#all the fucking sad in my body just dumped here on the page

[efangamez]

Hi :) I'm very, very depressed. 2/15/23

So I wanted to make this post to kinda humanize me a lil bit. If it's putting too much out there so be it. But don't get sad just yet though, there is a bit of hope! TW// Self loathing, self harm, eating disorders, depression

From about Thanksgiving, I have been very depressed. In this post. I kinda wanna talk about the things that have been making me feel this way and what happens because of it.

Living With Parents Living with my parents is a huge drain. My mother is not as homophobic and transphobic as my dad is, but it certainly is there. Also, we live on a farm, so I'm expected at any moment to help my family with whatever they need. This is a puts a HUGE damper on my mental health. Not only do I have to constantly remind them of my boundaries, but I also cannot express my gender as freely as I would like. I just want to wear dresses, maybe try some make up, hang out with friends, etc. But, here in south VA, I have no car and I have a phobia of driving, so there's that.

2. Burnout

I've been suffering from a lot of creative burnout. With the release of Reilley's Roadtrip, the last 1st Edition Neon Nights expansion, I have just felt completely wiped off the face of the earth. Yeah, sometimes I'll muster enough courage and energy to release a small game, but damn if I don't have the energy to make games more than 20 pages. I just feel...drained and conflicted. I have ALWAYS wanted more people to enjoy my games. I have. But I do ask people leave reviews for my games when they pick them up for free, and no one has been doing that. Wrath of the Undersea, my most recent game, has no reviews on Itch. That really sucks. I really like that game. Granted, more people downloaded it, but I want people to do more than that. I want them to have fun and maybe throw a little love my way. Idk, maybe I'm being super selfish with this. I'm a one person team living on a very small budget below the poverty line. I can't really afford to both hire people for games AND live. I can't. Also, I started these game jams recently, but I feel like I'm not advertising them enough and that kinda sucks, you know? Doesn't feel right. Idk. I do wish that I had my Twitter again, but it's kinda like a give-all thing over there that I just do not have the energy for. I guess I just kinda miss attention. I think that's the big thing here.

3. Self-Image Issues.

I am fat. I weigh WELL over 200 pounds, and because of this, I have major body issues. But get this; I am too fucking depressed and burnt out to work out. Hell, it is EXCRUCIATING to have to shower and brush my teeth now. And ALSO because of this, my gender dysphoria is CRAZY rn. It creates this super hellish loop that is just too much to bear sometimes. Right now I am so burnt out I want to take a month of unpaid vacation to just clear my head. Yeah, that will put me back a couple grand, but so what? Idk.

4. I Tire of Even Writing This

I am so burnt out even venting right now is a chore. I'm pushing through, but it's super hard. I can't even describe my own feelings without feeling I'm dumping everything on everyone. This sucks.

Anyway, yeah, idk why I am even publishing this. Hopefully people relate? Maybe send well wishes? Idk. Love y'all.

[baggythebag]

nethervillage mess chap 1

hi hi hi this is baggy and this is my first fic here :3 hope you enjoy it<;33

warnings: cursing,violence,death

3rd perso POV:

she woke up from her 34min sleep that's all she get for a couple of days sadly,but she doesn't mind since it make her more awake and ready for a fight,just in case, she forced her legs to move and get out of bed she went to the dirty bathroom the old owners didnt bother to take care of it one bit 'but who is she to blame them' though to her self .looking at her self in the mirror, sad,broken,tired ,and lonley thats what you will see on her face. ''Farah T.M. '' thats the young women's name , but people call them the angry shadow ….she had been hiding in this old building since the enemy is looking for her, and got stuck for 4 years in this disgusting place ,her11 years old self didnt find another home,but she would rather be here than under his control and none stopping abuse.

If you didnt know-which U DONT-this woman had been an agent for this man..lets call him Mr.S…., where she killed , poisoned,and kidnapped targets at the age of 9.we know it seem impossible but they had a power that made them seem like a strong human ,she did her job with cold eyes ,my life wasn't good before either: abusive father and a dump but kind mother wasn't the best ship that is ,so i ran,and i was forced to the join the KNE(KidNightEater)and today she'll try and escape this hell of a place she had to put a plan. this city known as nethervillage or the zombie land , is the most least safe place it's almost on an apocalypse, and its -Ohio like- state is going down with the lead of S. she stepped out the window with a backpack ready to jump out ,she gave a little confidence to her self , saying:'' the second i take a step out my life will take a new page a new beginning,a new-'' .gun shots.

Unknown POV:

'' target Farah #367 down ''she talked into the mic and turned my back and i calmly walked away from the body she was me , that Farah was me..in another universe of course! . ''I want a smoothie''Farah talked to herself'' I need to get the fuck out of here first tho-''

3rd person POV(againn)

with that being said she heard a growling noise behind her , she turned to her back and there it was a zombie running full speed at her, the strong women panicked and ran as fast as possible DONT GET PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS!'' she shouts while running but quickly corrected herself ''NO WAIT, THEY DO-'' .after the long run our hero ran out of ideas so she grabbed her gun ''I forgot I had this thing on me, damn'' she stopped and kneed down, pointing her bloody gun at the hungry zombie's eyes, shooting them ''enjoy being a blind little girl, or boy, or person don't care''. she took her cigarette out burning the tip of it and took a breath, she had to relax somehow, this was too tiring for her ''god that was awful, im late again'' .shadow arrived at the KNA base and put her clown costume on '' this clown wig is itchy can i get another'' asked the 15 years old girl hoping for something more comfortable, but the staff just ignored her like she was a crazy person talking to herself, Farah -angry and pissed- walked through the teleporting door they used to do their missions this time she had to do the ultimate task kidnap her old self they name them the o.children Farah exited the door and looked around carefully to not draw attention to herself, but she failed by stepping on a broken bottle of booze ''h-hmm…'' the bed twitched announcing that she woke that person.

welp this is the end for now :3 but i'll post chap 2 soon

SEE Y'ALL <;33 btw this is a little image of what Farah look like hehe

made with picrew

[neon-fruitmonger]

farewell to princess meatball, a very good & brave cat

tumblr’s utility as a conventional blogging site has always been questionable at best; nevertheless, it’s the only reliable stream-of-consciousness space I have outside of google docs.

importantly: putting this out here helps me. i’d like to think it can help someone else, someday, too. (be forewarned that it is very long and mildly graphic.)

the beginning

josh & I bought our first house in portland, oregon in the fall of 2014, two weeks before my 29th birthday. it was a freshly remodeled, mid-century ranch-style house a few short blocks from peninsula park. it came with retro-inspired light fixtures, charming built-ins, and a scraggly backyard-dwelling tabby cat. we purchased the washer and dryer separately.

we were not in the market for another pet. just as well, because this cat didn’t seem especially interested in being anyone’s companion. she laid out on our fence and occasionally peered into our windows, her docked ear the only sign that she’d been handled by humans. bearing the obvious marker of TNR and looking otherwise fed, we figured that could be enough.

i couldn’t tell you what possessed me to talk to the cat, but i did. there was nothing eventful leading up to our first conversation. we fixed each other with the same measured gaze -- me from the deck and her from her perch on the fence -- and i said, entirely conversationally: “hey, kitty.”

something about her face changed in that moment. she perked up and responded immediately with what I would soon come to recognize as her signature greeting: a confident and startlingly loud, “MEOW.” she slid down the fence, all claws, and came trotting up to me with an expectant gleam in her eye. 

what else was I to do but feed her? josh told me not to feed her; I lied and said I didn’t. one day at dusk (otherwise known as 2:59pm during winter in the pacific northwest), I caught him spreading out a blanket on the deck and inviting her to sit with him, bowl of kibble in hand. “don’t start feeding the strays,” I echoed back to him, and he called back sheepishly, “well, she seems pretty hungry. what else was I supposed to do?”

but she didn’t become our cat at first feeding. it wasn’t until we noticed the huge, gaping wound on her chest -- red and visceral with a glossy, sickly citrine overcoat -- and subsequently wrangled her to the local vet for stitches, that she eventually started the journey towards being our cat.

by this point, she was coming into the house just a little bit; enough to keep her out of the rip city rain and safely nestled in a cozy bed-and-blankets nest near the back door, but not enough to put her in contact with our other pets. she didn’t much like being indoors, either. we bought her a little outdoor cathouse with a heated bed where she could escape from the downpour, and that’s where she’d spend most of her time.

...that is, until I coaxed her inside with treats, wrangled her into a cat carrier, sustained significant injuries from the attempt, and somehow got her to the vet with my life intact. they asked for her name; we’d been calling her “meatball,” because of course we weren’t planning on formally adopting her, so why not give her a ridiculous moniker? (we would only uncover her royal heritage later, sometime between her peeing on the new mid-century modern couch and using the above-ground pool as a giant water bowl.)

turns out meatball was very well-behaved for the vet, so much so that they were able to clean her wound and stitch her up with a bit of local anesthetic and some veterinary elbow grease. I had her vaccinated and dewormed, with stitch removal scheduled two weeks out. there was just one problem: sweet meatball had to remain exclusively indoors from the time we arrived home until here stitches were ripe for removing.

tl;dr: she hated it. she yowled and scratched up all the furniture and peed on everything. she whined incessantly at the back door, staring out through the glass at the freedom she had always known. she would look up at the ceiling and flinch away, seemingly claustrophobic for the dearth of endless blue sky above her. she kept us up at night -- every fucking night -- for two whole weeks. all in, I paid $700 to be tormented nightly by a nine-pound demon spawn and was decidedly not stoked about it.

when we brought her home for her follow-up appointment, I was convinced we’d never see her again. we took the carrier straight out to the deck and opened the door for her, expecting some calculating hesitation at the very least. but no, she bolted out like lightning and never looked back, a shock of mottled brown fur running full-speed into the unkempt shrubbery where our fence met the neighbor’s behind us. she didn’t even pretend to be grateful. I chalked it up to my good deed of the year and we made peace with her unceremonious bailout. 

until, that is, she showed back up two hours later for her dinner.

princess meatball was ever after that our cat. she was mostly our outside cat, since that was where she felt most comfortable and at home. I had grand plans to convert her to an inside cat, but it seemed a cruel thing to force on an animal who had spent most of its life outside and loved nothing more than sleeping in impossibly tall trees, tightrope-walking the wooden fence, and yelling at all other animals that dared set paw in her yard.

not a year after we’d bought that house, I entertained a job offer in the bay area, in tech, a far cry from the boutique firm where I'd spent the last five years an underpaid editor, and where everyone was about to lose their job in an acquisition. we packed up the pets and drove 12 hours straight to san jose, where I hoped against hope that the yard in the house we rented -- a house we’d only seen through the lens of my local relatives who’d scoped it out for us -- was up to princess meatball’s lofty standards.

honestly, it’s hard to remember every detail from august 20, 2015 to december 21, 2020. between josh and I, we took enough photos and videos over the years to piece together a pretty accurate revisionist history, but there’s no need to rehash every detail. meatball’s days were mostly the same, in the best possible way: she spent her time outdoors, lapping up water from a bowl we filled with a garden hose, chattering at the many birds that nested in our trees, chasing butterflies, rolling around on the concrete porch, and sitting in the sunshine.

over the years, she acquired a two-story outdoor condo lined with turkish towels my aunt sent us for exclusive human use; we called it meatball’s summer house, but really it was an extension of her primary residence, and she gave no thought to the season. the princess had also commandeered the growing collection of patio furniture we amassed, along with all of the blankets and towels and everything else that made its way onto the patio. we joked that the back yard was “meatball’s house,” a concept that only grew in merit as she routinely greeted us every time we deigned to visit her.

it’s hard to convey through words alone, but the yard was her place. there isn’t a single inch of that space that wasn’t touched by meatball. when she wasn’t lounging in (or on top of) her villa, she was prowling in the bushes, taking shade under the hammock, or curled up on one of the seat cushions. she was everywhere, all at once. she was sunning herself on the deck. she was scaling the fence, albeit far more clumsily as she’d gone softer and, ahem, plumper from regular feeding and coddling alike. and if she saw you drag a blanket into the grass, she’d follow close behind, ready to lounge alongside you. 

mindfulness often eluded me, but sitting in the grass with that little tiger-ticked tabby -- the breeze fluttering her dark-rooted whiskers and tickling her nose, ears twitching towards the sounds of bluebirds and finches, fur glistening in the warm california sun -- was the only time I truly knew peace.

she had dozens of fuzzy blankets indoors, but meatball could be comfortable anywhere. she could lounge in the gravel; she slept in the dirt; she’d nap on the ice chest. inside the house, where her humans dwelled, she would flatten herself under the furniture; nest in open drawers, however shallow; lie in loaf position, head straight down, on the back of the couch near the window. she slept on both beds, all chairs, any piece of cardboard -- box or elsewise -- and every other surface imaginable, save the countertops. some of her sleeping positions seemed supremely unnatural and yet, meatball was so at ease in every space she occupied.

so when, in the summer of 2020, meatball seemed less and less comfortable in any space that wasn’t the bottom of the shower, I knew something wasn’t right. 

the end

one night, late in the spring, I'd remarked to josh that our princess seemed to be losing weight. she’d gotten fairly rotund up to this point, so the slimming didn’t seem drastic at first. even her increased thirst and cold-seeking behavior wasn’t totally alarming; we’d had unseasonably warm weather in the bay area, after all. deep down though, my conscience was nagging at me: something is going on with the cat.

meatball, like most other cats on planet earth, did not like going to the vet. unlike most other cats, meatball had been adopted semi-feral off the street and deeply feared all but the two humans who had dedicated their lives to socializing her. compounding this unfortunate fact were statewide covid-19 restrictions, which barred us from going into the vet’s office with her. nevertheless, on july 9th, we took her in for evaluation. 

she was anemic, we learned. her bloodwork revealed some other anomalies, but nothing definitive. her x-rays were practically useless. the doctor guessed parasites; we gave her a dewormer and went about our way. 

meatball maintained a strong appetite, but it wasn’t clear that she was gaining weight. against my better judgment, I googled her symptoms and her blood-tells. the internet’s vast crystal ball suggested hyperthyroidism and kidney failure and cancer. all of these were rare in a cat meatball’s age (or what we guessed was her age), but set my mental alarm fairies alight all the same. 

near the end of that same month, I slid my hand idly along her flank, scrolling mindlessly through the phone in my dominant hand, and felt a lump. 

it’s that same sick sort of feeling you get when you know you’re getting bad news -- life-changing, heart-rending bad news that will alter the trajectory of your worldview -- bad news that feels like a hard mass of something that doesn’t belong on your cat. I was not calm or collected; I was entirely mechanical as my feet dragged me to josh. I did not say, “I need you to come here” or “I need you to see this,” because those phrases were reserved solely for when the princess was being indescribably cute. instead, in a voice that felt unsteady and faraway in my own head, I said to him: “I need you to feel something on the cat.”

the results of this double-blind study were conclusive enough to warrant a call to the vet. the other vet. the really expensive vet with the on-premise hospital and compounding pharmacy and every type of specialist you could imagine. the vet that took three weeks to get into during the pandemic. that vet. 

by the time we were able to take her in on august 13th, she was alarmingly thin: just under seven pounds despite extra treats and stealing her sister’s leftovers. the expensive vet took a biopsy of the lump and examined it under her microscope. “it looks waxy,” she said of the results. “it’s not what I would expect to see with cancer.” 

vets have a tough lot. the totality of the healthcare system for humans in america is rotten enough on its own; naturally, most folks don’t have two nickels to rub together when it comes to preventive care and diagnostics for their pets. the typical next step for a human patient, said dr. blackwolf, was scheduling an ultrasound. but with pets, the expense was often tough for owners to justify, and she didn’t think it was urgent.

of course we opted for the fucking ultrasound. but the very soonest they could do it was september 5th. it would be ok to wait that long, she said, though the labor day holiday meant that we wouldn’t receive our test results back until the following thursday.

meatball remained as loving and good-natured as ever, but continued to lose weight. days before her ultrasound, she seemed increasingly uncomfortable, especially after eating. when the eternity between her biopsy and her ultrasound finally elapsed, we waited in the car, anxious and hopeful for the promise of a resolution. as with all appointments prior, meatball had peed in her carrier. 

when the doctor called with her findings, she did so in the voice that people use when they’re breaking tough news to you. that voice that’s practical and giving you space to process, but feels pandering in the moment. “we shaved her belly and found more lumps,” she said somberly. “her spleen looks like swiss cheese. her intestines are very irregular-looking. her kidneys are failing.” every word a mach truck to my gut. finally: “the prognosis is likely very poor.” 

she gave me options -- I don’t know what all of them were -- and advised me that they were contingent on the more conclusive lab results they’d get back. the doctor would not prescribe pain medication or recommend any therapy in the meantime, as this was highly dependent on the diagnosis. 

it took nearly a week for the “conclusive” results, which were as conclusive as: maybe your cat has cancer of some kind? if it was cancer and we wanted to treat it with anything but “giving up,” meatball would have to go to a specialist at an even more expensive hospital, because changes to california state law prohibited the adequately-expensive hospital from administering chemotherapy within its current square footage. so I called the specialist. september 24th was the soonest available; sooner than I’d guessed, but nowhere soon enough. I took it, and then begged dr. blackwolf for the aid of any political capital she could summon. in her last mercy to us, she emailed meatball’s test results directly to the head of oncology. I received a call later that same day that dr. regan could do a telehealth consult that friday.

by this point, meatball was urinating in her sleep. she slept at the bottom of the shower and would wake up with her left hind leg soaked in diluted pee. when she wasn't in the shower, she would lie on the outdoor dining table or the metal cooler or even the dirty concrete. she no longer liked to perch upon blankets, especially the fuzzy ones -- formerly her favorites. her breathing was labored. she was clearly uncomfortable. 

dr. regan was able to see meatball the morning after her consultation. she'd need to leech more of meatball’s precious blood, perform another ultrasound, and do all the things I'd wasted weeks and dollars doing before. but it didn’t matter, because help was on the horizon, and dr. regan was an oncologist. 

I thought about chronicling all the particulars of meatball’s appointment dates and protocols, but I'm not sure that it’s necessary or even helpful to get it all exact, here. importantly, meatball was finally diagnosed with high-grade lymphoma; the lumps we had felt on her flank were actually her lymph nodes. the prognosis was indeed poor, and we could either choose to give her steroids until her passing, or attempt a chemotherapy protocol.

after seeing my coworker put her dog through chemotherapy only a year prior, I had silently promised myself that I would not put my pets, my partner, or myself through that emotional rollercoaster. and yet, when an expert is on the line telling you that you can buy your beloved best friend -- currently a shadow of the animal you once knew -- a few good-quality months or even years of life, it’s really fucking hard to remember those commitments you make to yourself, when your pets are healthy and your life is going just fine.

we told ourselves that we’d see how it went. if meatball felt better, we’d continue as long as she did. if the treatment stopped working, we’d stop taking her in. simple, really.

and the thing is, the treatment worked. we’d started her on a 16-week protocol and she got five solid weeks of marked improvement. she put weight back on; not a hint of her former paunch, but the muscle returned to her legs. she wasn’t peeing in her sleep anymore. she was active, even playful at times. she hated the daily dose of prednisolone, and she wasn’t a fan of the weekly hospital visits, but we’d reasoned it was a small price to pay to see her enjoying food and treats, pain-free. each week, the doctor had said her lymph nodes were feeling normal. 

week six was her follow-up ultrasound and blood panel. once we saw how the cancer had diminished, we could put her on an every-other-week schedule, a much-needed respite from the weekly visits that sometimes kept her boarded for seven hours at a time.

unfortunately, this was also the week that the doctor felt meatball’s lymph nodes swelling up again, which meant the current protocol was no longer effective. every time we were at a crossroads with meatball’s health, I'd ask the doctors what they’d recommended. dr. regan said that we could try lomustine, a rescue chemotherapy protocol. there were risks, she’d said, but we could administer that to meatball instead of a now-pointless ultrasound and see how she responded.

if she’d responded at all, it wasn’t a good response. lomustine could only be given once every four weeks to keep its heightened immunosuppressive properties from overwhelming poor meatball. the first night, she threw up her undigested dinner on the bed. we’d brought her back weekly, still, for blood tests and monitoring. over the course of the next few weeks, she continued to lose weight and had lost her voice.

it was so important for me to be strong for meatball. I reasoned that she was enduring so much, the least I could do was provide her a source of stability and confidence. but hearing her signature loudmouth meow grow increasingly hoarse before falling completely silent nearly broke me. she ate haltingly, taking labored gulps from her dish. she could no longer alert me when she wanted in or outside, so she scratched at the door or simply sat and waited.

when we took her back to the oncologist, I thought that would be it; she’d tell me that there was nothing else we could do except “keep her comfortable,” an option that seemed out of our reach by then. selfishly, I wanted someone else to tell us when it was time to let go. but she offered to give meatball another dose of elspar and pursue another course of treatment from there, so I thought, may as well try.

and wouldn't you know it: our fierce little tigress, slayer of wayward rodents and champion of the tall grass, had once again bounced back from the brink. she put on weight. her meow returned in full force. 

it was one of many gifts we had and would receive for the duration of the princess’ reign. denial had a powerful hold on me for weeks, as I'd started to feel the notches in her spine once more; but the doctor said her lymph nodes were feeling mostly normal, remarked that her being was more substantial, and we held on to that hope until the very last. we held on until dr. regan called us an hour or so after we’d dropped meatball off for another treatment and said, I'm sorry, but I can feel her nodes again.

somehow, I expected the call before I even received it. meatball’s quality of life hadn’t decreased in any manner of obvious significance, but over the final weeks and months of her time in this mortal realm, I'd grown so in tune with her health and the deviations in her body and demeanor, however minor. the prominence of her ribs was as clear a diagnostic as any lab test, to say nothing of any disturbances in her eating and lounging patterns. these changes, like the ones preceding her eventual diagnosis, were gradual, subtle; viewing them as individual points in time, you could almost mistake them for the signs of aging, even in a cat as young as we think the princess was.

every time the disease changed course, dr. regan (and all doctors before her, for that matter) would present me with a set of options, typically in threes. this time was no different: we could try another, highly specialized course of treatment that required trained staff to administer; we could continue giving meatball the gentle elspar that had been working so well; or we could simply keep her as comfortable as possible for the remainder of her life on steroids alone.

unencumbered by emotion, I'd always prided myself on my practical, often utilitarian thinking. just like I thought I'd never elect to put my cat through chemotherapy, so too did I assume I would inherently know the right path at any crossroads during treatment. and once again, I had grossly miscalculated the impact that unimaginable sorrow would have on my decision making. as with every inflection point in this ill-fated choose your own adventure: cheating death on behalf of your cat, I hemmed and hawed. 

because what do you even say when faced with those choices? for so many people, the cost of life-saving or -extending care is infeasible, often for their human and animal loved ones alike. that doesn’t make the choice any easier; I suspect in many cases, it can even make finality of such a decision that much more gut-wrenching for its lack of alternatives. but we weren’t at the end of our rope, financially, nor had we apparently exhausted our options. to me, possibilities meant hope. 

just like the law, there is both a letter and spirit to interpreting a course of action. taking another route was a literal possibility, but if the guiding principle behind every decision was maintaining a good quality of life for meatball, then pursuing that path had to be in service of her best interest.

as usual, I asked the doctor, “what do you think is reasonable?” it was a cop-out, maybe, and one that flirted with unduly burdening her, but I trusted dr. regan to give me an objective response. she had already let me know that there was no shame, no defeat, in simply keeping the princess comfortable from the outset. this was her life’s work and her speciality; in the absence of known monetary hurdles, which we’d define if and when the expense became untenable, she could more readily chart the boundaries into moot territory. she could be meatball’s health advocate in a way my heart might not allow me to be.

this time, dr. regan did not recommend the alternative treatment. we agreed to take the middle ground of administering the elspar once again, and then every three weeks until it was no longer effective. in conjunction with the daily prednisolone, dr. regan said it would likely give her a few more weeks of good-quality life. 

this time, when we picked meatball up from treatment, it was a different nurse who carried her out into the parking lot and into my arms. she asked me if I had paid over the phone (I had) and said the doctor wanted to see meatball again in three weeks’ time. I asked if they would schedule us ahead of time, as they’d done before. “we’ll call you,” she said, and it felt non-committal under the sag of meatball’s carrier. 

they never called. not that it mattered; it was obvious to us that the elspar was no longer effective. meatball seemed stable enough in the following week. then, the week after, she started a noticeable decline. 

it hurts to think about the degradation of her quality of life at all, let alone in detail, but honoring meatball’s life means honoring all of her life, the hard parts included. she’d developed chronic diarrhea and was vomiting once a day. we reasoned that she was still eating, still purring, still perky. we ordered her high-fiber food and probiotic supplements. we babied her incessantly, and she ate it up. but starting that weekend, it became clearer that she wouldn’t make it to that next appointment; the one we never even made.

on sunday, she’d barely eaten. she had grown so fearful and resistant to her steroids, that the process of medicating her became traumatic for us all. after a very early and reasonably hearty breakfast, she vomited many hours later, in a voluminous splash that sounded like a hefty water balloon tossed onto the tile, all full of partially-digested food and mucus. it was then that josh made the call to the in-home euthanasia service, and we somehow agreed to a 1pm appointment the following day, gasping for breath between sobs. 

usually after she’d throw up, meatball would want to turn back around and eat again. this time, she retreated quietly outside to rest in the sun. when she ultimately came back in at night, the light in her eyes had visibly dulled. she enjoyed a few freeze-dried salmon treats from josh’s hand, but little else. I made her a nest out of a large cardboard box and a duvet cover, where she spent most of the night and the next morning, tucked away.

in the middle of the night, she heard josh get up to use the bathroom. like she often did when he rose at night, she followed him. only this time, she wanted to eat a full meal. he sat with her, petting her while she devoured her late-night dinner, listening to her purr rattle in her tiny chest before she curled up with him in bed. then, after giving him that last gift, she crawled into her box-nest and stayed until morning. 

I didn’t get up with the two of them that night, though I treasure the memory of her little crunching sounds echoing in the hallway. it’s a bittersweet feeling of happiness, tinged with sorrow; I wish that I had joined them in that last moment of meatball being meatball, but at the same time, I’m happy that they had a moment of shared tenderness and vulnerability. sometimes, knowing and observing is enough. in this case, it has to be.

in the morning, I laid on the floor in front of her corrugated hut -- another property to add to her empire, and proof that anything could be a bed to meatball. she’d bunched herself up against the back of the box and when she changed positions, slowly and methodically, we saw that she’d urinated in her sleep. as far as we could know, it was the first time since her formal diagnosis. cats are clean and prideful animals, but meatball was always immaculate. while it wasn’t embarrassing for her to soil herself, it was surely unpleasant, if not outright vexing.

as painful as it is to relive the loss of her life, hashing out the loss of her trust is somehow harder. over the last two or three days, she’d been especially wary of me. it seemed any affection she had left was reserved for josh, whom I'd intentionally positioned as the “good guy,” swooping in with treats and affection after I'd administer her daily steroid. selfishly, pitifully, I needed absolution before her passing.

so, against that damnably practical nature of mine, I put a small pillow on the floor and curled up near her, careful not to block her exit route. her eyes were dull and wide; she had little interest in anything but managing her own discomfort. I tried my hardest not to cry too much. and I spoke to her.

it’s important to note that my family believes in a lot of weird shit. at least, that’s how I always saw it. as a kid, my dad would talk to me about animals having a shared soul and collective conscious. a few years ago, my aunt had gone on safari in africa and met a purported interspecies communicator; she’s now convinced she can talk to animals telepathically. and while I can neither validate or invalidate their beliefs, I can say that, at bare minimum, talking to meatball helped me. I hope it helped her, too.

I started to tell her an abbreviated version of her life story as I knew it, and as I’ve written about it. I told her that she was one of the best things to ever happen to us, and I meant it. I told her that her legacy would live on with us, and that we would never forget about her. I told her that I wasn’t going to let her suffer any longer, and that I was so proud of how strong and brave she was, and that I only ever wished to help her. I told her that all of us did everything we could; the we knew she needed us to be strong; and that help was on the way for her. I told her how much I loved her, and how much I would miss her, but that both josh and I would be okay. I told her that it was okay for her to go, that she could rest, and that we would be here for her always. 

as I spoke to her, she slow-blinked a few times, an homage to the fond way with which she’d regard us when we complimented her, petted her, sang songs about her, or even asked her questions she couldn’t very well answer. when I was done, I asked her to forgive me. and for the first time in days, she leaned down to my outstretched hand and gave my fingers a lick.

perhaps I'm guilty of anthropomorphizing; maybe I sound like a quack. but somehow, meatball always knew what we needed. and even if she couldn’t understand my words, she seemed to know that I needed her love and acceptance in that moment. (and of course, I promptly lost my shit, cried, and thanked her profusely for her grace).

another hour or so passed in the box before she got up, walked to her water dish, and then promptly exited the human house through the propped-open back door, entering her domain for the last time. 

meatball was weak; a shadow of her usual self. she was gaunt, frail, and visibly tired. but she relaxed in her summer house one last time. she sat on the cushioned bench where she used to perch next to josh, grooming herself while he’d read. and then, one last time, she came to lie with us in the grass, on a blanket in the sun. 

among the aversions she’d developed during her bout with lymphoma, she most distrusted the sight of the two of us together. to her, it meant we were going to tag team getting her to her her appointments, and she was not having that. but she relaxed and allowed us both a spot on the blanket. she no longer purred, but she gave us both a few final head-butts. she licked my nose one last time, despite the taste of sunblock I'd slathered on. and she let us pet her for hours, until the doctor -- the last doctor in a sea of too many medical professionals -- arrived. 

by this point, meatball had grown suspicious. she could sense our combined anxiety; having to don face masks didn’t help ease her skepticism. I went to greet the doctor and go over logistics. by the time I escorted her into the back yard, meatball was back on her bench, next to josh, where she loved to be. 

while friendly and infinitely loving, the princess was feral at heart. we’d spent a long time socializing her, but she really only had eyes for us two. she feared other humans, especially humans dressed like doctors, and we, in turn, feared that she would try to make a break for it at the sight of dr. cheung. the nightmare scenario was that meatball would spend her last moments afraid, and being forced out of hiding by the two people she loved.

meatball tensed lightly as the gentle doctor approached, but seemed to relax just as quickly. we went through the paperwork. we picked out an urn. we tried to give meatball some ice cream, but she was too sick for it. then, the doctor gave her the first shot, a combination of morphine and general anesthesia.

being true to meatball’s legacy and experience, and without having the human words to share her thoughts, I can safely say that meatball fucking hated that shot. for a brief, wild moment as her angry yowl culminated in a fierce hiss, my brain panicked with thoughts of, “these are her last conscious moments and they are filled with fury and betrayal.” she tried to run off, up the stairs and onto the deck, towards the house. she made it up, but not inside; the drugs worked quickly, and Josh and I followed her with reassurances. 

honestly, I can’t remember what either of us said. I don’t know if it mattered. I think we both petted her. I think we both told her we loved her. and she began to settle, the drugs taking her pain and discomfort away. she eased into a peaceful sleep. at some point, I became painfully aware of my face mask filling up with snot. I felt like I was choking for air. I worried I would pass out there next to her.

dr. cheung clearly felt bad about meatball’s reaction. she came and tenderly folded a soft blanket under meatball’s little head. she let us sit and pet her for awhile. while we’d been forewarned, the sight of meatball’s beautiful, but unseeing eyes was disconcerting for me. I forced myself to look anyway.

her breathing was even and steady for the first time in days, unburdened by pain or nausea. her little front paw twitched involuntarily. dr. cheung, comforting us as well as herself, I suspect, told us, “if she knew from the start that we were giving her a peaceful end to her suffering, she would have held her leg out willingly.” then, even more quietly, she said, “I can feel the lumps in her belly. there are so many.” 

I don’t know how much time we took, holding each other and crying, petting meatball and repeating assurances that she couldn’t hear, much less comprehend. I clipped a few tufts of belly fur off of her while she slept, a practice that felt mildly violative but still preferable to defilement of a corpse. at some point, not too long after, we gave the doctor the okay to administer the euthanasia. 

maybe I'm a coward, but I couldn’t watch meatball take her last breath. I held her front paw, the one that had twitched, the entire time. seconds (minutes?) later, dr. cheung held her stethoscope to meatball’s chest and said quietly, “she has passed.” I opened my eyes to look at hers, which had dilated unnaturally under the bright sky. part of me sincerely wishes I hadn’t burned that last image into my brain; still, I didn’t look at her belly, no longer rising and falling in the gentle cadence of calm breath. I buried my face in josh’s shoulder and kept hold of meatball’s little paw until we signaled dr. cheung to take her. 

as soul-crushing as it is to hold your pet while they breathe their last, to sit with their little body in death, to feel the oppressive weight of finality descend upon you, and to be so painfully raw and vulnerable in front of a stranger, it came with a sense of relief for an end to her struggle. 

from her perch on the top step, the doctor slowly -- so very slowly -- removed the blanket from under meatball’s head and laid it out on the deck next to her. she gently shimmied the waterproof pad under meatball’s backside and used it to carefully lift her onto the blanket, supporting her head and she went. although meatball would not have known, in death, if she’d emptied her bowels, we were glad for her sake that she hadn’t. this day, she did not vomit. she went to the bathroom moments before the doctor had arrived. 

dr. cheung swaddled meatball like an infant in her arms, leading us out to the back of her SUV where she lowered the bundle of meatball into a lined basket; a baby in a bassinet. finally, she peeled the blanket back from meatball’s little face so we could see her one last time, at peace, with yet another bed to her name -- as was her way.

life after meatball

meatball died on monday, december 21, 2020 at approximately 1:30pm. it was the winter solstice, and a day that marked the great conjunction of jupiter and saturn. somewhere, some sect surely believed this would be the day the world would end; for me, it may as well have been. 

that may seem melodramatic, even to an avowed animal lover, but if you were lucky enough to be loved by meatball, it would feel like the understatement it is. 

everywhere you were, there was meatball: loud, expressive, and a little bossy at times. she was so talkative, never minding the fact that we spoke in different tongues. over time, she only seemed to grow louder and more insistent, her meow often being mistaken for a screaming child in the background. strangely, she relished receiving pets while she ate. in fact, she would often consume her meal with more gusto once she had a hand gliding down her back and a familiar human voice praising her, bestowing formal recognition upon her as the very good eater that she was. we joked, once, that we’d created a monster by coddling her so; it seemed that after years of indulging her, well, indulgent behavior, she began requiring an audience for her meals. 

demanding though she may have been, she gave back a thousandfold. every time we returned home, always entering through the back yard, she would greet us enthusiastically, meowing and chirping and sticking her little face through the gap between the gate and the side of the house. she knew the sounds of our footfalls and the scent of our presence drawing nearer. oftentimes we wouldn’t make it through the door without showering her with affection, petting her belly while she rolled around on the ground, flipping back and forth and purring.

our PDA didn’t hold a candle to hers, though. meatball was a connoisseur of hand hugs, stretching out her limbs while we’d stroke her chest, then retracting them in a firm embrace around the hand whosever hand was tending her, nuzzling her face into the touch with a small, accompanying squeal, eyes squeezed shut. she loved to kiss and be kissed; we would take turns kissing the patch of golden fur on her forehead before presenting our own faces, upon which she graciously reciprocated the act. 

but she needed no invitation to lavish you with licks from her sandpaper tongue. meatball would approach the both of us at eye level and lick our foreheads, cheeks, noses, chins, and hair, wholly unsolicited. to this day, and for at least the year prior, I’ve sported a perpetual small, circular red spot at the tip of my otherwise bloodless nose; a physical testament to her unending devotion. earlier this year, I had resolved to discourage meatball kisses in the hopes that the mark, so obvious against my pale flesh, would eventually go away. it’s thoughts like those that make me feel so sick and sad. fortunately, I lacked the resolve to keep her at bay for long.

meatball loved to press her forehead against yours; rub the side of her face against yours; nuzzle you unabashedly and for absolutely no discernible reason. if you held a book or beverage or device in your hands, well, she would head-butt your hands and whatever thing that occupied them. at the risk of assigning human motivations to a tabby cat, we never got the sense that meatball’s sole objective was commanding your attention. rather, meatball was a cat that took matters into her own paws: if your fingers weren’t available for caressing her, she’d pet herself on them while you went about your business.

similarly, meatball could make her own fun. she never lacked for toys (or cardboard boxes), but when her mortal nemesis, rainbow snake, was nowhere to be found, she would just... attack the blankets. or the grass. or launch herself at a piece of furniture. 

more than anything in the world, meatball loved life. her vigor went beyond the unmistakable survival instinct that connects humans and animals by a spiritual thread; everything captivated meatball. every sound, every smell, every sun beam, every breeze, every little movement or flash of light. she took such joy in drinking fresh rainwater out of the divots in the deck; in watching the squirrels run along the fence; in being brushed; in receiving treats of any sort; in having one of us spoon her wherever she lay.

to write about her like this almost makes her seem needy; to the contrary, she was fiercely independent and happy to be part of the action without inserting herself at its center. she wasn’t a lap cat, but she was a lover through and through. and while concepts like time and gratitude were much too human to project unto her, I know that she spent the rest of her short life expressing her gratefulness to us for having saved her. I felt her thanks in every lick, every slow blink, every purr. 

2020 was a tough fucking year for so many people. I know that josh and I are among the luckiest of the bunch: we didn’t get sick, none of our human friends or family members fell ill, and both of us were able to work from home. we have good neighbors, a big back yard (that meatball generously let us use), and live in the heart of silicon valley, where we could have everything delivered to us with relative speed and ease.

but comparing the suffering of one human to another is apples to oranges. despite our position of relative privilege, we suffered heavily under the demands of our respective jobs. like everyone else, we were robbed of our routines, unable to see friends or be part of the community in the ways that we so enjoyed: the farmer’s markets, local coffee shops and restaurants, our favorite small businesses, and even the occasional trip to the coast. the stress of us politics and global events weighed on us. quarantine was depressing, the world was depressing, and life as we knew it just... changed. it was ok to grieve that loss.

the one bright spot: we could spend more time with our pets. meatball, in particular, loved this. for one, it meant that she wouldn’t have to choose between indoors and outside; we would leave the back door propped open with the metal, cat-shaped doorstop, allowing her an easy transition between spaces at will. it also meant that we could take lunches and breaks with her out on the patio or in the grass. and if she wanted a morsel or two of food she wouldn’t otherwise get outside -- we didn’t want to attract ants or other critters, after all -- well, then, that was just a bonus.

the sensible part of me is glad that we had this time together, in light of her diagnosis. it allowed us to be present for her and to maximize the remainder of her life with us. it also gave us flexibility with scheduling medication and feedings, and the peace of mind that we would always be around with her if a complication arose. 

the irrationally angry, still-grieving part of me is so unbelievably gutted that the universe saw fit to take away my one silver lining of this fucking pandemic. that, by acknowledging what was most important to me, I somehow doomed her to be taken away. 

and I know, I know: it’s better to have loved and lost. barring another tragedy, I knew we’d both outlive meatball, and that even another decade with her wouldn't have been long enough. I know she’ll live on in our hearts; I know that loving her made us better people. but right now, I'm struggling to breathe under the crushing, suffocating, unfathomable absence of her. the back yard is overwhelming in its energy and the absoluteness of never hearing her curious and joyful meows again.

because for all the routines we’d abruptly given up in march of this year, meatball so often was the routine. it might not sound rational or healthy to say, but in many ways, our day-to-day life revolved around meatball (and our other pets, past and present). despite my misgivings about enabling outdoor cats, meatball’s origin story made it entirely impractical for us to imprison her in a house, and the assortment of california fauna that might scrabble its way indoors in her stead had rendered the possibility of a cat door equally futile (to say nothing of the fact that we’ve been renting for the last five years, anyway). this meant that meatball needed a perpetual doorwoman at her beck and call; apparently, this was my true life’s work.

it would be dishonest of me to suggest I always accommodated her willingly and happily. leaving the door open was fine during the day, but at night, we’d close and lock it. if meatball wanted inside, she would have to yell to get our attention, scratch mercilessly at the back door, or both in tandem. 

sometimes it would only be once a night. more often, it would be two, three, or even four times she’d want in and out: to get a bite of food, to cuddle in the warmth of the bed, or for some unfathomable, attention-seeking reason I couldn’t comprehend at 3am. sometimes I groused about it; occasionally, I would have a meltdown about it. but I always did it. I never wanted meatball to feel like she would be abandoned by us or that she couldn’t have access to food or fresh water. similarly, and despite the obvious toll the cumulative sleep loss took on my health, I wanted reassurance that she hadn’t been captured by a nocturnal predator, hadn’t ventured outside of the yard and gotten herself injured or worse, and wasn’t suffering in an unexpected storm or drop in overnight temperature. and if she was in some sort of trouble, then I would never forgive myself for sleeping through her distress.

so many other rituals revolved around meatball’s wants and needs (or our various interpretations of them). she would wait outside the bathroom door if you were in it, waiting to be greeted. she would frequent “treat station,” a grassroots cat treat co-op sprung up from the bench at our dining room table where she’d sit and wait silently for one of us to give her some goodies. she would simply sit between us on the couch at night, watching whatever was happening on the big screen while her humans were preoccupied with their small screens, taking turns at absently petting her. 

her loss is felt in every corner of this property. I struggle to resume the search for a house to purchase, because leaving here means leaving a part of her behind. we can open the back door and glance two paces ahead at the spot where she died, a few of her little hairs sitting dormant until the next rainfall. we can take with us the furniture and the many blankets she loved, but the yard she owned and championed, the space where she lived her best until she ultimately perished, cannot be taken with us.

the ugliest side of grief

writing this out has been cathartic, in many ways, and painful as a motherfucker in others; I don’t know that the two are mutually exclusive. but still, it feels like the journey through inexplicable loss has just begun.

the thing is, we were trapped in a cycle of mourning for meatball with no foreseeable closure until now -- and even now, truth be told. cold fear had me gripped in the weeks leading up to her diagnosis, bone chillingly aware of how bad a sign unexplained weight loss was in cats. we feared we’d lose her before her treatment would even begin. then, her incredible response gave us such hope. we wept and grieved when she lost her voice; we cried any time she showed a sign of illness or discomfort. we knew that we couldn’t save her life; only buy her some time and solace. 

I used to think that when meatball did eventually pass -- innumerable years into an abstract future, as I'd imagined it then -- I would have no regrets about the life we provided for her. and on the whole, I really don’t. right now -- today and all days following her passing, though hopefully someday with decreased frequency -- I struggle with the kind of guilt only wrought from hindsight.

was there anything I could have done differently? was I not careful enough in administering her medication? did the droplets that leaked from the corners of her mouth or ricocheted off the insides of her cheeks make a difference of weeks or months? should I have at least tried the alternative treatment? was there anything else I could have done for her pain? should I have called the vet about her diarrhea and vomiting sooner? 

if I knew that princess meatball would die on december 21, 2020, would I have still explored all of the treatment options I did? was it worth it?

did she know how much I loved her?

did I force her to prolong her suffering on my account?

so many of these questions have answers I can’t possibly know. I know that I did my best; we both did. I know that we gave her a merciful end, even if she was angry about the needle part at first. I know that she isn’t suffering any more. yes, we could have called a day or two sooner and prevented any further decline; but with her ability to rebound after a bad day, it felt almost premature. I feel absolutely certain that the timing was right based the information we had. 

she knew that I loved her, even if she couldn’t understand why I constantly subjected her to things she didn’t like. she knew that I didn’t like those things either, I think. whether there was anything I did or didn’t do: who knows? everything I did for her was out of pure love, and for most of the treatment cycles, she was relatively comfortable and happy. she didn't like going to the vet, but she loved sitting on my lap for the car ride home. she hated her medicine, but she enjoyed being rewarded with tuna water and brushes under her chin. the treatment side effects, when they did manifest, were mild and few. and for awhile, we saw her enjoy herself as she used to. 

her loss is profound, and it chokes me throughout the day. I want to fight against fate, or give up and die, too. but that would be very silly of me to do, when a little tabby cat who weighed no more than five and a half pounds at the time of her death could fight so hard to stay alive for her people.

rest well, my golden-crowned princess. your light lives on in us.  

[demonpoxballad]

The Last Name - oneshot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: There’s one more name from the past bouncing around Bucky’s head. One more scribble ripped from the pages of Steve’s old book. Another person to make amends with. Except this one is different: he can’t remember doing anything wrong. No murdering or enabling of evil plans. No threats or political conquests. In fact, Bucky can’t remember much of her at all.

Warnings: swearing, description of panic attacks, angst, fluff

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Hey! Omg we're back! I guess this is the start of r moving in with Bucky after their time in Finland hehe. If anyone has anymore ideas for oneshots please let me know because I love writing this story so much <3

(really hoping this gets into the tags but my posts haven't been recently so please reblog if you liked this!)

New York, present-day:

Brooklyn loomed over her, on all sides. There were moments of respite: ivy winding up ornate stairs, handbag dogs with their jolly trots, the odd break from crowds. But it was overwhelming, she had to admit. At every alleyway punctuating their walk, she would tug Bucky away into the damp darkness. Her breath would heave, and her back would get soaked through from leaning on the wall, and he would just hold her face until she could go again.

“Nearly there,” he promised her. “We’re nearly there.”

“Okay,” she nodded, standing up straight and hoisting her bag back onto her shoulder. “I’m ready.”

“We can get a cab, y/n. This is too much, we should get a cab.”

“No, no. I can do this,” she protested. “I need to do it at some point, so it might as well be now.”

She pulled Bucky back onto the sidewalk, not paying any attention to his exasperated headshaking. If she would be living here from now on, she had to get used to the crowds. Her body still remembered the ebb and flow of them, though; Bucky trailed behind the whole way as she ducked and weaved like a local on a tight schedule. And she enjoyed the anonymity of cities, as well. She told herself that no one she encountered would ever see her again, let alone remember her well enough to describe. She was safe here. A nobody.

“I’m warning you,” Bucky told her as they approached his apartment block. “My place is a very sad affair.”

“It can’t be any worse than my fucking homemade shack, Bucky.”

He chuckled. “Okay. Fair enough.”

He led the way up the stairs, checking over his shoulder frequently to see that she was still right behind. She had to glance up quickly from his butt each time. He unlocked the door and dumped his stuff on the floor, watching as she ventured inside. She disappeared into the bedroom, taking in the empty bedframe and dry wet-room. Bucky was still embarrassed, she could tell, as she flopped down onto the grey loveseat. She resigned herself to looking as comfy as possible, spreading her knees and letting her head fall back, until he learnt to relax as well. It didn’t take long; he soon wandered over from his hiding space behind the kitchen counter to collapse beside her.

“Worlds colliding?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“Does this feel weird? Like worlds colliding?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he said. “More than that, though, you know?” He turned towards her and smiled. She instantly felt like a giggling teenager. “You make this place feel a lot better.”

She smiled back. “I’m glad.”

“How are you doing?” he asked.

She found herself jolting internally, her eyebrows jumping. Perhaps it would take a while for her to get used to this. To being looked after.

She reached for Bucky’s hand on his thigh. “I’m good. Tired. This is a lot.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head in refusal.

“We just have one more thing to do today, though,” he said.

“Buy a mattress?” she teased.

“Hah. Other than that.”

She tapped a finger against her chin in mock thought. Then a grin and a cheer: “Sam!”

“Sam,” Bucky affirmed.

***

“Last time I came here to see him,” Bucky said in her ear, his hand on her elbow. “They tried to arrest me, so just - ”

“Oh, shit,” she moaned.

“ – it’ll be fine, I promise.”

She stopped in the middle of the parking lot, eyes pleading with him. She really didn’t need any trouble.

He couldn’t argue with her. “Okay, it’s fine, I’ll call Sam,” he rummaged in his jean pocket for his phone, and she handed it to him from her own back pocket, “and he can come down to get us.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey!” a voice boomed across from the entrance. It was the man himself. “Here they are!”

“You should cancel the call,” she murmured in Bucky’s ear, meanwhile smiling and waving enthusiastically over at Sam.

Bucky fumbled with his phone, pressing buttons at random.

Sam held his phone out as he walked over. “Buck,” he shouted. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Shit,” Bucky murmured. She couldn’t help but snicker at him. “I – uh,” he called back at Sam, “we were just – never mind.”

Sam walked straight towards her, and she took hold of his outstretched hands gladly. “It’s good to see you,” he told her.

She found herself a little speechless. Sure, she knew Bucky, and he was a superhero too, no matter the tortured past. But Sam was well-adjusted, and kind, and handsome, and Captain America . . .

“How’s it going?” she managed to say.

The men hugged in that specific macho way, and she couldn’t help but grin at them. It was nice to see Bucky as a functioning member of society.

They walked inside together, Bucky’s arm tucking her into his shoulder. She reached over to pat his chest, holding up an innocent peace sign when he stared incredulously at her. “Bro,” she teased. He shook his head, chuckling. Getting past reception was blissfully uneventful with Sam as their chaperone.

“I’ve gotta say,” Sam said as they entered the elevator. “I can see how you managed to seduce this robotic mope into a European cottage romance.”

“Yeah?” she said.

“Yeah. You’re pretty.” He grinned. His smile was so dreamy. “Bucky never told me that, and the KIA pics don’t do you justice.”

“I’m right here,” Bucky complained.

Sam held his hands up. “I’m just saying what I see.”

“Um. Thanks, Sam,” she said, trying to catch Bucky’s eyes to smile at him. He was glaring studiously at Sam.

“Okay. I’ll stop now. It won’t happen again,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “You do that.”

They sat down in Sam’s office together, him on one side, and her and Bucky on the other. She took in the full-length windows, the plushness of the seat beneath her, the monochrome palette. It suited Sam well, and at the same time, not at all.

“Sorry about the set up,” Sam said. “I promise this isn’t an interview.”

“That’s okay,” she said. Bucky shuffled his seat closer to her and put his hand on her arm rest. She kept her own cradled in her lap.

“It’s more of a job offer,” Sam said.

“What?” She glanced over at Bucky but he was no help, only offering a nonchalant shrug. She’d have to have a stern talk with him later about surprises, and how much she really didn’t appreciate them.

“Bucky’s told me a lot about how you work,” Sam carried on. “And I’ve done my own research as well.” He leaned forward onto his desk, fiddling with a pen sat there. “You’re not just skilled, y/n, you’re empathy personified, a guardian. I need that kind of compassion around.”

She shook her head. “I know Bucky has probably told you his version of events, but it’s a sugar-coated - ”

“Stop it,” Bucky interrupted.

“What? I’m telling the truth.”

“No. Stop it. I’m serious.” His expression was resolute, eyes piercing her own.

“Bastard,” she whispered.

Bucky leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. She tried not to ogle at the way his biceps swelled. “Let’s just listen to what Sam has to say,” he said.

Sam was trying his best and failing not to smile. She didn’t feel like she knew him well enough yet to tell him off for enjoying their squabbling.

“Um. Okay,” he began again. “I do have a specific mission for you, to start off. How about I brief you next Monday, and you decide if you want it? I think it will suit you well, even with your time off. But no hard feelings if you’re not interested.”

She wasn’t worried about hard feelings. She was worried about soft, caring, disappointed-not-angry ones. Could she say no to Captain America? More importantly, could she say no to Bucky?

“I’ll think about it,” she told them.

“Working with Sam really helped me,” Bucky said, tapping her hand. “I had forgotten that could do good things, given a proper choice. Help people, even.”

Bucky and Sam smiled at each other, a distinct sense of understanding floating across the room. She felt sick to her stomach.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s fine,” Sam said. “That’s great, thank you.”

A long silence ensued. The men looked sheepish, their body language all twiddling thumbs and shifty eyes.

“Is there something else?” she asked.

“Fury,” Bucky said. “He’d like to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

They didn’t give her time to process.

Sam spun in his chair, pressing the button on a comically small remote. NFJ flared up as a hologram icon, hovering in the corner of the room. Standing up, Sam laid the remote down on the desk in front of her.

“Just press this twice,” he pointed.

They both left the room. She barely registered Bucky standing up next to her, nor the gentle kiss on her forehead before he walked away. She sat still, in front of the remote, for a period of time that felt just like falling.

And she still hadn’t moved an inch when Fury appeared himself, grainy but real before her.

She raised a finger to her mouth, biting down and trying to hold back tears.

“They told me to wait until you connected, but I didn’t want to,” he said.

“Right,” she replied. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“You didn’t fancy taking a short vacation to good old C-53?”

He laughed. Her own face remained sullen. “How are you?”

“I’d like to hate you,” she told him. It had been a long day already, and she didn’t have the energy for niceties.

“Okay,” he agreed. “But?”

“I don’t think I can. Not anymore than I hate myself, anyway.”

Fury shifted around on his feet. “That’s good to know.”

She strained to listen for background noise from his end, maybe for some foreign languages or strange dialects, but there were none to be heard.

“I’m sorry I fucked the mission,” she said.

“No, no,” he consoled. She’d never seen him look so remorseful. So out of control. “I’m sorry for leaving you on your own.”

“Did you hear about the widows? And all the super soldiers?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. Fury knew who she was. And she knew him. It was a relief to share this guilt with somebody.

“I’ve thought about you every day since,” he said.

“Same.” They shared a smile.

“I wish I could be there,” he said. “I might have even hugged you.”

She chuckled. “You’re a busy man. I understand.”

“You’re important to me,” he stressed.

She thought about Bucky. She imagined his eyes as he smiled, the crinkles at the edges, the luminous quality to his irises. His head on her lap on the day that he found her. And the peace they had carried between them ever since. She didn’t want to be angry, or sad; she’d already had a lifetime of that. No more.

“I understand,” she repeated.

(really hoping this gets into the tags but my posts haven't been recently so please reblog if you liked this!) Taglist: @mayasreadingnook @writing-for-marvel @howlermonkey69 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @cuddlycalcifer @bambamwolf87 @twinerd14 @violets-library @hallecarey1 @cjand10 @navs-bhat @themorningsunshine

[t0wnspersonb]

You’re Beautiful (Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader)

Word Count: 4,784

Warnings: SMUT, slight angst, bullying, my shit writing, Kuroo being too damn hot

Summary: Despite how much you loved him, you couldn’t handle the constant bullying that came with dating one of the most sought after males at your school. The constant harassment from Kuroo’s fans ended with you breaking up with him. But when Kuroo founds out the truth... well he does everything in his power to make sure you’re taken care of.

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Anonymous said:

Hiii 🦊 Rachel here! Could I please request a scenario in which kuroo s/o has been being constantly bullied by kuroo's fangirls during months to the point in which her self confidence is almost crushed but she remain silent and decides to try yo break Up with him?. She appears the Next day at school wearing sexy clothes and make up to make them believe she Split Up with him seriosly. But kuroo notices what's happening and reassures her? Smut ending please if possible!! Thank u so much!! 😊

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Anonymous said:

Can I please request a scenario where Kuroo helps his gf relieve her stress by giving her his full attention and worshipping her? She’s also very insecure. He walks in the room to find her staring at herself in the mirror, lifting her shirt up and looking sad (insecure about her body). No need for angst though! She beams the moment he flirts with her and call her kitten. Soft!dom vibes with lots of dirty talk and praise (and maybe cockwarming?). Thank you 🥺 ily and your blog btw

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I decided to put these two requests together since they both fall into the same category! I hope you enjoy this one Rachel and anon! 

Sorry it took so long for me to write! I think I do a terrible job at writing characters as a dom so I apologize in advance if it wasn’t what you guys were wanting! As always please let me know what you guys think:)

~~~~

“- I don’t understand.” Kuroo’s frown deepened, his fingers clenching and unclenching into fists at his side.

 You had an audience, the soft whispers of people passing by curled around your ear like the wind.

 You knew exactly what they were talking about, what they will be talking about for the next couple of weeks.

 “Y/n why are you breaking up with me?” he pressed further, his tall frame taking a step closer to you. 

 “I told you.” Your voice sounds strained, even to your own ears, despite the mental preparation you had to do before.

 Hell, there was no amount of mental preparation that could prepare you for something like this.

 Kuroo’s annoyed and calculating expression shifted dramatically, hurt and confusion clouded his face, his large hand reached out towards you, causing you to take a step back, your arms wrapping around your body.

 You wanted to curl into yourself, to disappear completely so you didn’t have to see Kuroo’s pained expression.

 “That doesn’t… that doesn’t make sense! We were doing great! You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to go out with me! So why… why all of a sudden -” 

 “I told you.” You stressed, cutting him off immediately. “I don’t want to be with someone who only focuses on their club activities. You never have time for me, you’re always so busy with your stupid club. I can’t do this anymore.”

 Lies.

 Lies.

 Lies.

 They were all lies.

 But you… you had to make this work, you had to make this hurt, or else… or else you knew he would never leave you alone.

 The whispering around you got louder, the large smirks from the girls amongst the crowd pierced into your heart.

 But not as much as this.

 Kuroo’s expression ripped your heart in two.

 This hurt like hell.

 “Your team is waiting for you Kuroo.” You said quietly, ignoring the ache in your chest as he visibly flinched at the use of his surname, something you never called him. “I’ll see you around.”

 You turned to walk away, resisting the urge to look back at the tall male. You could feel tears stinging at your eyes as you rushed out of the school gates, it was probably a mistake to do this right after class; catching him right before he went into volleyball practice. 

 It honestly was all a mistake but… you didn’t have a choice.

 You were suddenly yanked back, causing you to stumble about.

 “That was quite the show.” a familiar voice drawled out, you flinched as you scrambled away from the group of girls that were staring you down.

 The group of girls that caused this mess.

 “It was smart of you to break up with him. Kuroo-san belongs to all of us, not just you. You ugly girl.” She sneered. “Who would want you anyway? Kuroo-san was just dating you out of pity, I bet he just wanted a quick lay. Since you’re that easy.”

 You could feel your lower lip tremble, the tears that were already gathered in your eyes threatening to spill over. 

 “Well it’s done, just leave me alone now.” You mumbled, walking away. 

 As soon as you were a safe distance away, tears began pouring down your face. 

The flood of emotions you were experiencing was something like no other. The pain that you felt deep within your chest was excruciating, and all you could see behind your lids as you wiped at your eyes was Kuroo’s hurt expression.

 You were lucky enough that your mother wasn’t home, she wouldn’t be home for the next couple of days due to a business trip. 

 Which meant you could cry your heart out in peace.

 No amount of mental preparation prepared you for this. For the hurt that you had caused the person you loved the most, for the hurt that you were experiencing from the constant cruelty of those girls.

 It was all too much. 

 By the time you had finally finished crying it was late at night, and you found yourself in front of your bathroom mirror.

 They were right, you were an ugly girl, why would Kuroo want to be with someone like you? 

 It was always a question that lingered in the back of your mind when Kuroo confessed to you. It was strange wasn’t it? He was quite possibly the most perfect human being you had ever met, so why would he want to be with you?

 “Since you’re that easy.” 

 You shook your head from the comment, Kuroo was your first for everything; memories that you would cherish forever, even if you were no longer with him.

 You at least knew that comment wasn’t true, Kuroo wasn’t a cruel person, there was no way he would have thought of you that way.

 The person you were looking at in the mirror wasn’t someone you recognized. A stranger in your own skin, your eyes flickered to every inch of your insecurities, your body shrinking down.

 You couldn’t go on like this, something had to change.

 ****

 “W-What are you wearing Y/n-chan?” Yaku asked, face flushed, as he took in your uniform.

 You were lucky enough to have arrived at school without any encounters with those girls and Kuroo. But you were unlucky in the fact that you were in the same class as Kuroo and Yaku.

 “D-Does it look bad?” You asked, carefully tugging at the hem of your skirt.

 “No but… you never wear anything that short… I’m just not used to seeing you like that… are you wearing makeup?” Yaku looked at you in surprise, the pink in his cheeks never fading.

 You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly, your head ducking down in embarrassment as you nodded.

 This was so uncomfortable; you were completely out of your element right now.

 You had opted for the shorter uniform skirt today, something that was completely different than your usual knee length one. Your legs had never been so exposed at school before.

 The makeup… well, you hardly ever wore makeup, it wasn’t like you were wearing a whole lot of it, but just enough to make you feel just a tad less insecure about yourself.

 “Kuroo is gonna flip when he -” Yaku shut his mouth immediately; eyes casting away from you.

 That’s right.

 He had almost forgotten that you had broken up with him yesterday, and from the slight fall of your face, maybe you had forgotten too.

 “You know… Kuroo was devastated when he came into practice yesterday, he made us do twice as many drills, got upset over the littlest things…” Yaku trailed off, glancing over at you briefly. “We didn’t know what had happened until Lev said something about it. News travels fast around here huh?” he joked weakly.

 “Just news that involves your golden boy.” you said quietly, your eyes trained on your folded hands that rested on your desk.

 Yaku turned his body completely towards you now. “Y/n-chan what happened? Why did you -” the classroom door suddenly opened, and in walked the golden boy himself.

 He looked… exhausted, sad. 

 The tiny piece that you were able to fix in your heart shattered once again, leaving you empty and achy inside.

 This was all your fault. 

 His exhaustion, his sadness, that was all you.

 You could feel his eyes flickering over to your form, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze, you settled for pulling out one of your books from your bag; eyes focused on the page, although, you couldn’t even comprehend what it was you were reading.

 His shadow loomed over you as he paused next to your desk. It was only for a couple of seconds before he sighed loudly, taking his seat behind Yaku.

 Fuck today was going to be a long day.

 ****

 The next couple of days were routine now, Yaku would attempt to make small talk with you, struggling each and every time to ask you what had happened between you and Kuroo, and each time it ended with Kuroo entering the classroom and standing near your desk before sighing loudly and leaving.

 Despite the fact that it was becoming routine, it still wasn’t easy. None of it was, the only easy thing was that those pesky girls in his fan club left you alone, at least you got relief from that.

 Until today. 

 Of course, it would be when you were walking home that they would approach you, no one in sight.

 “You really think that dressing up and wearing makeup is going to make you pretty?” one of them scoffed, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. “You’re still ugly, you did Kuroo-san a favor by dumping him, who would want to be with someone as hideous as you?”

 You gritted your teeth, your hands tightening around the strap of your bag as you attempted to step around them, only for them to get in your way once more. 

 They were cornering you now.

 “I did what you asked, why do you keep bothering me?” you asked quietly, pleading almost.

 “Because you took him away from us all those months ago. Kuroo-san has never and will never be yours. It honestly was such a bitchy thing for you to do Y/n. You really think that by just breaking up with him you would be let off the hook? Wrong.” 

 Your quiet demeanor never faltered; you were desperate to go home though. So you tried stepping around them once again, only to be shoved back into another one of the girls.

 They were laughing at you as they shoved you about, but you didn’t have the strength to fight back, to stand up for yourself.

 You just… you just let it happen.

 You probably deserved it anyway, right? 

 For breaking Kuroo’s heart.

 You deserved all of it, right?

 “Hey!” 

 Everyone froze, yourself included. You knew that voice all too well, and you couldn’t help the tears that began to pool in your eyes.

 Cool fingers clasped at your wrist, carefully yanking you away from the group of girls that were now cowering in front of the tall male that stood before them.

 “Are you okay Y/n?” Kenma peered at you in concern, carefully releasing his grip on you. You nodded, rubbing at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater.

 “K-Kuroo-san! We were just teaching her a lesson! She hurt you, didn’t she? We were just trying to protect you!” one of the girl’s pleaded.

 You had never seen Kuroo like this. He was genuinely angry, his eyes all but turning into slits as he glared down at the group of girls who were nearly in tears at this point.

 “From what I heard, you guys are the reason that Y/n broke up with me.” he said, tone deep and dark. “From what I saw… well… girls like you absolutely disgust me.” he sneered. 

 “K-Kuroo-san.” one of them began to cry.

 “From now on stay away from me, and stay away from Y/n. If I catch you guys anywhere near her then we’re going to have some problems. Understand?” he stood incredibly tall; his arms folded across his chest as he stared down at the group of girls.

 It was silent for a moment and then whimpers and loud cries began to erupt from the group, all of them running off.

 As soon as they were out of sight Kuroo slumped down, sighing tiredly as his large hand ran down his face, rubbing off whatever emotions he was feeling. But then he was turning to face you, concern clouding his eyes as he walked closer.

 “Are you hurt?” he murmured softly, one of his fingers gently sliding against your cheek, his eyes flickering across your face.

 You shook your head, but you could feel oncoming tears beginning to pool. You desperately wanted to throw yourself into his arms at this point.

 But Kuroo knew you too well, he recognized the look on your face and his hand slid down to grasp yours.

 “Let’s go.” he said. “Kenma I’m going to take Y/n home. Walk home without me.” his eyes glanced over at his friend who nodded, waving goodbye to the two of you before taking his leave.

 For the most part, the trip home was entirely quiet, you two hadn’t addressed anything that had happened at the school, or what had happened in the days prior. It was mostly small talk, but you felt lighter somehow. 

 Kuroo brought the best out of you, he was your better half; his mere presence brought a sense of calm to the raging storm inside of you.

 He also had never let go of your hand.

 Maybe it was because of what happened earlier, or maybe it was an unconsciousness thing, but you were grateful for it.

 His hand was large and warm, his thumb rubbing gently against the back of your hand, it was entirely soothing.

 But now your anxiety was through the roof as you approached your front door, pausing to retrieve the keys from your bag.

 Would he go? 

 Would he want to come in?

 Would he want answers?

 Would you guys get back together?

 “Y/n....” Kuroo stared down at you intensely, his face nothing but serious. “Can we talk?”

 Fuck. Maybe it was all of the above.

 You bit your lip, nodding before you guys stepped into your house.

 “Where’s your mom?” Kuroo asked casually, slipping off his shoes.

 “She’s on a business trip, she’ll be back on Saturday.” you said quietly. Kuroo said nothing back as you guys made your way to your room. Silence engulfing you completely, the air thick with tension.

 “Do you really not want to be with me anymore?” Kuroo asked as soon as you guys got settled in. There was no room for small talk now, he had jumped to the point immediately.

 “Or did you break up with me because of those girls?” he asked, his eyes never leaving your form.

“They’ve been… they’ve been harassing me since we got together, it got really bad recently…” you trailed off, ignoring the dark look that crossed over his face for a moment. 

 “Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was incredibly soft now, his expression gentle. “I would’ve done something about it.”

 “I don’t know.” you whimpered out, the tears that you had been holding back since school finally spilled over. “They were your fans… you’re so amazing, I didn’t want them to think badly of you. They’re right, you know. Why would someone like you want someone like me? I’m not very pretty or smart, I’m not passionate like you are… they said I was only dragging you down. I didn’t want to hold you back anymore. So, I - I had to break up with you, had to hurt you enough so that you wouldn’t try pursuing me anymore.”

 At this point you were full on sobbing, blabbering your confession. The words just leaked out, there was no point in stopping now, not like you could anyway. 

 “I didn’t mean what I said about the team either. I just said that to hurt your feelings. I love that you’re so dedicated to your team and volleyball, I love how hard you work towards your goals. You’re so good at what you do. I’m so sorry Kuroo. I’m so sorry.” you choked out, another sob tearing through your lips as you desperately tried wiping away the ongoing flow of tears.

 Your eyes were incredibly blurry, your loud crying and hiccups were the only sound that could be heard in the room. You hadn’t even registered that Kuroo had gotten off your bed until you were being yanked into a warm chest. His strong arms wrapped around you tightly, crushing you to his body.

 Warmth seeped into your being, radiated off of his chest and into yours. Your nose was filled with the scent of Kuroo, familiar and perfect as you buried your face deeper into his chest. 

 He caged you against his body, the strong grip he had only tightening further; his large hands rubbed up and down your back, soothing your hysteria until there were only soft hiccups and sniffles.

 You weren’t sure how long Kuroo held you for, but you didn’t care. You never wanted to leave his arms.

 He was solid, so strong and warm; grounding you to this moment. You could only think of him, as he was right now, and as you were right now. Right now, this moment was perfect.

 Right now, you knew that you would never stop loving Kuroo Tetsurou.

 “I wish you would’ve told me about those girls earlier.” he finally spoke, his voice was calm, the movement of his hands never stopping against your back. “At least you’re telling me now. But…” his hands gently pulled you away from his body. His eyes burned as they stared into your own, the intensity of his gaze took your breath away, he had never looked at you like that before. 

 “You’re seriously stupid if you think any of that is true. Not pretty? Not smart? Dragging me down? Holding me back? That’s not true.” He cupped your face carefully, titling your head back slightly, forcing your eyes to only stare at him. 

 “You’re the kindest person I know. You’re so beautiful, you have no idea how many of the guys at our school wanted to go out with you. You’re the top of our class, did you forget that you’re in the college prep class? You’re incredibly smart. You’ve never dragged me down; you’ve never held me back. You make me want to be better, you make me want to work harder. If I don’t have you by my side… then what’s the point to any of it?” his voice was deep and fierce, full of fiery passion as he stared down at you. 

 “Do you love me?” he asked.

 “Of course, I love you, I never stop-” Kuroo slammed his lips against yours, kissing you fiercely and urgently.

 You whimpered loudly, fingers gripping at the front of his uniform tightly as you surrendered yourself to his kiss. 

 Every ounce of his feelings for you were being poured into this kiss, it was searing, burning you completely as he nipped and sucked at your bottom lip, forcing his tongue into your mouth easily.

 It was wet and hot as he massaged the pink muscle in your mouth with his own, and you could only take it, clinging to him desperately as you tried to keep up with his pace.

 You hadn’t even realized that he was taking steps back until your world shifted, Kuroo easily pulling you down onto his lap as he sat on your bed. You held yourself up, knees pressing into the soft mattress on either side of his hips.

 “You’re mine.” he breathed against your mouth, the hand that was resting on your back trailed down towards your exposed legs. His fingers curled around the back of your upper thigh, skimming against the band of the thigh highs that you wore.

 “I can’t believe you started wearing these tiny little skirts to school. I hated the way other guys would look at you whenever you left the classroom… and the makeup? Who were you trying to impress?” he murmured, nipping at your bottom lip before trailing his mouth against the underside of your jaw, and down your throat.

 “I - ahh - I just wanted to…” your fingers slid into his hair; eyes fluttering shut as his tongue flickered out to taste your skin. “Feel good about myself.”

 He pulled away from you, his lips swollen, and pupils blown as he stared at you. “You’re gorgeous, you don’t need to make yourself up like that. I’ll make you feel good.” 

 Kuroo began tugging the clothes off of your guys’ body, easily tossing them to the floor until you were both bare.

 His lips parted as his eyes wandered to every inch of your skin, greedily taking in all of your pretty curves. You were his, he’d never let anyone else have you, he’d never let anyone else see you like this. Sprawled out on top of the bed, face flushed a beautiful pink, your knees bent as your feet sat flat against the sheets, your core entirely exposed to him.

 You were dripping, cunt glistening and begging to be touched.

 “It’s embarrassing.” you whispered, face heating up as you took in the way he stared openly at your exposed lower half. You moved to clamp your legs shut, only for his large hands to grab your knees, ripping them apart easily, exposing you further.

 “What’s so embarrassing about a boyfriend wanting to stare at his beautiful girlfriend?” he asked, eyebrow raising, a small smirk grazed his lips. “I’m going to make you feel so good, kitten.” 

 His face sank lower, the hands that were resting on your knees sliding down until they curled around the back of your upper thighs, pushing them further apart and up. 

His nose brushed against your mound and then you felt his hot breath blowing against your center, causing a loud whimper to escape your lips, your fingers gripping at the sheets below.

 “Thank you for the meal.” he smirked against you, eyes flickering towards you before his mouth enveloped you completely.

 You cried out.

 Kuroo’s mouth was like a furnace as he lapped at your cunt carefully, flattening his tongue against your soaked entrance before flicking it up towards your swollen bundle of nerves.

 The pink muscle easily swirled against your clit, lazy almost, before dipping back into your slit, moving in and out of you perfectly.

 Your chest was heaving at this point, your fingers reaching down to tangle into his already messy hair, urging him closer.

 His grip on your thighs tightened, his tongue moving against you faster as he felt you drip onto his tongue.

 “Tetsurou.” you whimpered. “I’m close, so close.” you slurred, the familiar tightness within your belly coiling rapidly.

 Kuroo pulled himself away immediately, a loud whine tearing through your lips.

 “N-No! Why did you stop?” You cried out, the tightness residing immediately, the dull ache of your cunt begging for more attention, for release.

 Kuroo stood above you, a devilish grin stretching across his face as you whined pitifully at him. One of the hands that was gripping your thigh suddenly came down, swatting at your swollen cunt with a sharp sting.

 You cried out in surprise as your body jolted with pleasure. His fingers gently running up and down your soaked folds, pressing down gently against your bundle of nerves.

 “I know I said I would make you feel good, but… there needs to be some kind of punishment too. Since you tried breaking up with me, and you kept secrets from me.” he chuckled, his eyes held nothing but warmth though, filled to the brim with love and lust. 

Suddenly Kuroo was hauling you up, easily pulling you back onto his lap, you could feel his hard member rubbing against the curve of your ass and then he was shifting you up once more and - another loud cry tore through your lips as he sheathed himself inside of you completely.

 The stretch burned as you struggled to accommodate his size, you would never get to this stretch, to him being buried deep inside of you.

 He hushed you tenderly, his lips pressing gently against your temple. His breath came out in hot, wet pants against the side of your neck.

 “Look at you.” he breathed, his eyes focused on the mirror that was propped against your wall, facing your bed. “Look at how fucking beautiful you are. Look at how well you take my cock kitten.” 

 Your eyes were screwed closed as you struggled to adjust to the new intrusion in your body. When you finally opened your eyes a loud mewl tore through your swollen lips.

 Kuroo had your back pressed tightly against his chest, your legs hung over the side of his muscular thighs, his thick member buried deep in your cunt.

 The scene before you was incredibly lewd. The way your pussy lips were stretched around his thick cock was on full display, your bare body covered in sweat and flushed red. The dazed look on your face and the tears gathering in your eyes; it was too much.

 Kuroo had his chin resting against your shoulder, his eyes never leaving the mirror as he took in every inch of you.

 “S-So embarrassing.” You whined again, attempting to turn your face away so you no longer had to stare at yourself in the mirror.

 Kuroo wasn’t having any of that, his strong fingers gripped your chin easily, forcing your head back towards the front. 

 “Don’t look away.” he commanded into the shell of your ear. “I want you to watch.” he began moving, his hips bucking up, sliding in and out of your velvety walls. “I want you to see how absolutely perfect you are. I want you to see how well you take my cock, I want you to see yourself cum. I want you to see how good I make you feel.”

 Your lips were parted, moans spilling out of your mouth as you watched the way your breasts moved with each hard thrust of his hips, the way your cunt stretched around his swollen member that continuously disappeared inside of your body.

 “You make the sweetest faces. Fuck look at how wet you are for me kitten.” Kuroo groaned lowly into your ear, his tongue flickering out against the skin. His eyes never left your form, cat-like and dangerous as you took what he gave you.

 “Do you hear that?” he murmured lowly. “Fuck you’re so soaked for me.” over the rustling of sheets and your moans the soft squelching noises of your soaked cunt could be heard.

 “Should I make you cum?” he breathed, his hand reaching down, his fingers brushing against your parted folds that were stretched tightly around his cock. His eyes were glued to the obscene image before him, memorized with the way you engulfed him completely. 

 “Please.” you sobbed, overstimulated tears now rolling down your cheeks. “Tetsu, please.” 

 He moaned softly, fingers reaching up to rub at your clit. 

 It didn’t take long before you began unraveling, from the quick swipes of his fingers against your bundle of nerves, from the way that his member filled you to the brim, reaching a devastating depth within you, it was no wonder you were reaching your end so quickly.

 You watched as your cunt gushed around him, trickling down his balls and staining the sheets below.

 “Fuck.” he hissed, teeth sinking into your bare shoulder as you convulsed against him. You were panting, crying at the rush of pleasure still coursing through your body.

 Kuroo stayed buried inside of you, waiting for you to catch your breath, your walls fluttering around him. He wouldn’t last long. But he needed you to cum again.

 “Give me another one kitten, I know you can do it.” he cooed, and then his hips started jack hammering into your core, hard and fast as his fingers worked against your clit once again.

 It was too much, overstimulating, sharp and biting, and you took it all. 

You sobbed loudly as your end approached, faster this time, but far more devastating. Especially when you felt his release, Kuroo painted your insides a beautiful white as he spilled himself deep within your core.

 You could feel your ears ringing, vaguely registering his gentle praises as he stretched you across the bed, sliding out of your puffy and swollen cunt carefully. You could feel his warmth seeping out, trailing down the length of your legs, but you were far too exhausted to care, to clean up.

 He pulled the sheets over your body pulling you against his sweaty chest, his strong fingers brushing away the hair that clung to the sides of your face.

 “I love you.” he breathed, a gentle smile covering his lips as he gazed down at you. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

 You sighed softly, a sweet smile grazing your lips as you stared back at him. “I love you Tetsu. I don’t ever want to be without you again.” you nuzzled your face into his chest, his arms wrapping around your body tightly.

 “I didn’t spend all that time convincing you to go out with me for you to leave so quickly. You’re stuck with me, and my stupid club.” he grinned at you.

 “That’s okay. I really missed spending time with Kenma.”

 “Oi.”

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 18

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 4276

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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

It’d been a little over a week since Shoto promised to go to the doctor with you and you were getting a little nervous. At first you were just waiting for the doctors to get settled in, but then Shoto was busy helping get things up and running and evacuating people to the bunker. Now you’ve just been chickening out.

Your period was a few days late, which wouldn’t be concerning if it weren’t for your current circumstance.

You woke up this morning and made a cup of coffee before taking Bravo out for a stroll around the bunker. He loved being able to run around and meet new people. He was a hit with the kids. They loved playing with him almost as much as he loved playing with them. The only downside was, there was only two places in the entire massive bunker that he could go to the bathroom. The farm and a small animal relief area near where the trash is dumped.

Needless to say, neither smelled great, but the farm was considerably better. So here you were, sitting on a small platform that oversees the crops with a cup of coffee and a book. Bravo sitting next to you keeping watch.

It was always a little chilly down here, which you honestly preferred. It just meant you could wear lots of hoodies. The more you could hide your body the better. Ever since leaving Dabi’s house you felt like you were always being watched. You felt so exposed and you just wanted to blend into the background.

Today you wore a new hoodie that Izuku had gotten you. It was probably one of the softest things you owned, and it was the prettiest shade of blue. The blue reminded you of a certain someone’s eyes… of the beautiful blue flames they were capable of creating… but then you’d shake the thought from your head and pull it closer around you.

You were enjoying your new freedom. Not that Dabi’s house had been a prison… but you hadn’t realized how much you missed doing things on your own. You had thought being alone would be hard, but you were thriving. It was never being alone that bothered you before, it had been his absence.

Against Katsuki’s wishes… Shoto had shown you the photos of what was left of Dabi’s car. And he hadn’t been exaggerating. You had almost passed out looking at how much blood soaked the driver seat and even the road around it.

You had been so lost lately. You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel. Your heart ached. You thought you had finally found your home. You had finally started to feel your pieces come back together. Now you felt like that would never happen. He took the last few pieces of your heart with him and you felt like you would never be whole again.

Dabi had been your comfort, your safety, your home. Now you were lost.

You hated that you felt this way. You should hate him. You should curse his fucking name. You shouldn’t be crying yourself to sleep over his death.

His death…

Was he dead? You weren’t convinced. It was too convenient, and there wasn’t a body. You wanted proof. Until then you’d go on believing he was still out there.

You closed the book you were reading. You had been on the same page for the past 10 minutes.

There was no way he wrecked his car like that. You had been in the car with him twice. Yes, he drove a little fast… but he wasn’t reckless. Either it was an elaborate cover up, or someone was after him. Or maybe… someone had been after you and he had gotten stuck in the middle as collateral damage.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

Shoto came and took a seat next to you. “I’d ask what’s on your mind, but I’m pretty sure I already know.”

“Am I that obvious?” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He leaned his head on top of yours. “It’s normal. I’d actually be surprised if you weren’t torn up over it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I can’t stop worrying about him. I keep wondering where he is. If he’s okay. If there’s some grand explanation for his shitty behavior.” You shrugged. “I’m just finding it hard to grasp that the same man who held me during my panic attacks was also secretly planning to breed me… It just doesn’t add up.”

“Guilt does weird things to people.” Shoto’s hand found yours and gave it a squeeze. “I know he’s my brother, but I have no doubts about who knew him best. I only know a version of him. I only knew what he wanted me to.” He sighed, “It was obvious you meant a lot to him, and I could see him becoming more… I don’t know… human? For the first time in years he was showing emotions that weren’t rage. It would make sense if you were starting to make him question what side he was on.”

Your eyes narrowed, “So what? You think he did some shitty stuff and decided to help me… because he felt guilty about it? That doesn’t make any sense.” You pushed away from him to look him in the eyes. “Dabi only does what Dabi wants to do. That has been clear to me since day one. So what the fuck did he want out of this? None of it makes sense. Was I just a possession to him? Was I a bargaining chip? Was I just some broken pet that he got validation from nursing back to health? What?!”

You could feel your hysteria building and Bravo put his head in your lap in an attempt to calm you down. You took a few deep breaths. “He better fucking be alive… so I can kick his ass myself.”

Shoto chuckled, “Touya doesn’t stand a chance.”

His eyes looked distant and sad. You nudged his shoulder with your own, “Hey can I ask you something?”

He blinked away whatever far away memory he was thinking about, “I don’t see why not.”

“What was he like? Touya I mean… Before he became Dabi.”

Shoto’s lip turned up just slightly, “He was the best big brother I could have ever had. He was always there to help me when our dad was too rough with me. My dad tried to keep us separated… didn’t want me mingling with what he considered to be his biggest failure.” You flinched at the casual way he talked about the abuse they endured. “But Touya would sneak into my room at night. He taught me how to handle my burns and would bring me cold soba on bad days.” His eyes glassed over, “I was devasted when he died. Well… when I thought he died.”

“I blamed my dad, we all did. So, when he came out of hiding, it was like this enormous weight had lifted off of my shoulders. I hadn’t even realized I was carrying it around, but I had never truly gotten over his death.” He chuckled, “So I went looking for him. I didn’t care if he was Touya or Dabi, I just wanted him in my life again. I’d take what I could get. So, I settled for our don’t ask don’t tell relationship.”

You felt a tear that wasn’t yours hit your lap. Of course this would be hard on Shoto, he’s potentially lost his brother for the second time. “If it makes you feel any better… He admitted to me that he loved you.” You smirked, “Well actually he told me he used to hate you which contradicts your story quite a bit. But he said he always wondered if things would have been better for you if he stuck around.”

Shoto laughed, “Sounds like him. Trying to act like the tough guy who didn’t give a shit… Just like how he was with you. I can’t tell you how many times he called me when he was gone checking on you. Texting me every single time your vitals spiked. He would check the cameras and send me voice memos about how he was going to beat my ass if I didn’t keep my hands where he could see them while we were sparing. But then he would deny it when I asked what going on between the two of you.”

“Hey, come on, I have an idea.” You stood and walked over to the corner of the field behind a small tool shed. You picked up a massive rock and moved it so it was hidden from view. “Can you burn his name into it?”

Shoto eyes darkened, “You want to have a funeral? We don’t even know if he’s dead…”

You nodded, “You’re right we don’t… but I think it’ll make it easier. We can have a place to morn him in private. Weather we mourn his death… or the death of who he could have been.”

Shoto’s shoulder slumped and eventually he nodded. His hand heated up and with his finger he wrote on the rock, “R.I.P. TOUYA”

You both sat there for a while just staring at the rock. You felt too cold standing here in the shade of the tool shed. You gripped your hoodie closer to you and held back the tears that you desperately wanted to shed. You knew you shouldn’t, but you let yourself think of Touya. You thought about what he would have been like if he had gone to UA. If he had become a hero. If you had met him under better circumstances. Would the two of you still have ended up together? Without your mountains of combined trauma would you even be the same people?

“You ready? We should head out soon or we’ll be late for your appointment.”

You rubbed your eyes and sniffled, “Yeah… let’s get this over with.”

Bravo wasn’t allowed in the medical side of the bunker, so you made a quick detour to your room to drop him off. Shoto quietly following behind you. “So how are things with you and Bakugo?”

You groaned and rubbed your temples.

Shoto chuckled, “That good huh?”

“He’s been hovering over me like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces at the slightest inconvenience. I appreciate what he’s trying to do… but it’s just too much. I told him I needed space… and we had a fight. He hasn’t spoken to me in two days.”

Shoto whistled, “I never thought I’d see the day that the two of you had a real fight. Sure, you always bickered like an old married couple growing up. But on anything serious he always caved to your every wish.” He paused at your door, “Wait. So, are you the reason he’s been extra grumpy lately?”

You blushed, “I don’t know… Maybe?”

You gave Bravo an extra scratch behind his ear before closing the door. At that same moment you heard the door next door click shut. Your eyes snapped up to meet Katsuki’s. “Oh hey… I didn’t know you were back from the surface yet.”

“Got back early this morning… I was actually on my way to see you. You have a time to get an early lunch? I want to talk to you about something.”

You played with the ends of your hair, which was an immediate give away that you were nervous. “I actually have some plans with Shoto. But I’m free after that. Shouldn’t take too long though.”

His eyes narrowed at your nervous posture and you cursed how well he knew you. “Oh yeah? What are you guys up to? Maybe I’ll tag along.”

You began to stutter but thankfully Shoto interrupted, “Clingy isn’t a good look for you Bakugo. Like she said… it’s not going to take long. Just wait here and she’ll be back soon.”

You saw Katsuki bristle and decided to step in before he picked a fight with Shoto. You stepped over to him and put your hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I just dropped Bravo off. He’s had some pretty bad separation anxiety lately so why don’t you go to my apartment and hang out with him while I’m gone. Make some coffee, pick out a movie or something. I’ll be back soon, and we can talk then.”

His posture softened as he looked you up and down. It was obvious to him that you were nervous. But he was trying his hardest to give you the space you wanted. He pulled you to him as he sighed, trapping you in his arms. “Okay fine. I’ll babysit the mutt. Can you do me a favor and bring back some migraine medication from the medical ward. My heads killing me.”

You nodded stiffly, hoping it was just a coincidence he needed something from the medical ward. “Not a problem. I have the weighted blanket you gave me on the couch if you want to take a nap while I’m gone. You look like you could use one.”

He squeezed you tighter to him. “I’ll be fine.” He leaned his head on top of yours. “I’ll be better once we stop fighting about stupid shit though.” He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, “I’ll see you when you get back.” He released you and looked to Shoto, “Try to behave. The two of you hanging out makes me nervous.”

Shoto chuckled, “Good. You should be nervous. If you don’t figure your shit out soon, I’ll be taking your best friend spot… Kacchan.”

You snorted as you pulled Shoto away. “Are you trying to get your ass kicked? You know only Izuku gets away with calling him that! Well… and me when he’s in a good mood. But even that’s pushing it.”

“Oh, he’ll get over it. He needs a reality check. He thinks the world revolves around him.” He led you down the hall. “He can be such a pain sometimes. But I will admit he’s so much easier to be around now than when we were in high school.” He bumped your shoulder, “In a way it’s thanks to you. As sad as it is, when you went missing, he matured. It was like out of nowhere he realized there were more important things in the world then him and his hero status.”

Something about talking about Katsuki’s emotional vulnerability while walking to the clinic to check if you were pregnant with Dabi’s child made you feel slimy. “Can we talk about something else. Literally anything else. How are you and Izuku doing?”

“Good… we settled into our room. It’s a nice enough room… but it’s right next to my dad’s room. Apparently he’s thought all this time that we were just roommates.” He threw his hands up and scoffed, “Honestly! Did he think we were both professional heroes, making tons of money, but couldn’t afford to live on our own?”

You giggled, “That sounds awkward. These walls aren’t exactly thick.”

“Oh believe me I know. And I don’t care. Poor Izuku though can’t even look my dad in the eye now without blushing.”

You laughed so hard you had to wipe away a tear. “Aw poor Izuku… He’s too innocent for this world.”

Shoto scoffed, “Innocent my ass. That man is a freak in—”

You held up a hand. “Stop, stop, stop! I don’t want to know. He is a pure innocent little muffin who used to braid my hair before workouts.”

“I thought Bakugo was the one who braided your hair? I can’t imagine him being okay with Izuku being that close to you.”

You laughed. “Oh he wasn’t at first. But mostly because Izuku was better than him at something. Kats liked to braid my hair in private while we watched TV.” You shook your head at the memory, “He actually got to be really good at it eventually.”

Shoto had succeeded in distracting you long enough to make the trip to the medical ward, but now that you were here the anxiety was creeping back in.

You paused before crossing the threshold. You knew it was important to find out once and for all if you were pregnant. But you were also enjoying living in ignorance. The fact that you didn’t know meant that you could live your life as normal. If you were pregnant… it would flip your entire world upside down. You would have a life you would be responsible for, a little human that would constantly remind you of the love that almost broke you.

If you weren’t pregnant then… you didn’t know how you would feel. Would you be relieved? Would you mourn?

Your hand found your flat stomach and clenched your shirt. You took a few steps further into the ward and was hit an overwhelming sterile smell. Your breathing hitched and your knees shook. It was too clean. It was too white. It reminded you too much of the lab.

Shoto’s hand took yours and gave it a soft tug. “Hey. It’s fine. You don’t have to do all of this. I can go in and request a pregnancy test and we can go back and do this in your room. Would that make you feel better?”

You shook your head, “Katsuki’s there…”

Shoto’s shoulders sagged, “At this point I think he’d be more upset at you hiding this from him. I’m not telling you how to live your life. I think you’ve earned the right to do whatever the fuck you want. But if it were me… I’d want as big of a support system as I could get…”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought about it. Did you want Katsuki to know? How would he react? What if you were pregnant? Would he be disgusted with you? Would he want to help? Your head was spiraling down a rabbit hole of what it and it was starting to make you dizzy.

“Hey, breathe! Just take a deep breath. Let’s get you out of here before you have a panic attack. Wait outside for me. I’ll get everything we need.

You pushed the wave of anxious nausea down and gave a shaky nod. “Okay… But remember to get some migraine medication for Ka—”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Go sit down outside and try and focus on your breathing I’ll be right back.”

You made your way outside and immediately sat down and leaned your forehead on your knees. You needed to get these invasive thoughts under control. You thought about what Dabi used to do. He would sit with you and try and distract you by talking about random shit. You knew he’d be pissed if he knew his younger brother left you all alone during one of your episodes. The thought of him yelling at Shoto was almost enough to make you chuckle.

You took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds and started listing animals that start with the letter A. When you couldn’t think of any more you breathed out. Then you repeated the process with the letter B, then C. You had made it F when Shoto made his way back to you.

“Okay, so they gave me some weird looks. Which makes sense considering I am a gay man asking for pregnancy tests. But they didn’t ask too many questions. I have two tests, a bottle of water, some Tylenol, and a phone number for a doctor… you know, for if it’s positive.”

You took his outstretched hand and stood up. “Okay… let’s get this over with.”

Every step towards your room felt heavier than the last. You just wanted to curl up under your blanket and pretend none of this was happening.

You hesitated at your door for a few moments before remembering you were a tough bitch and barreled through it full of false confidence.

You expected to see Katsuki lounging on the couch watching something on the tiny TV. Instead you found him passed out with Bravo curled up next to him. The sight of it calmed your nerves.

“Hey Shoto, can you get some coffee going? I’m going to wake him up.” You tiptoed over to him and sat on the edge of the couch. “Hey…” You shook his shoulder. “Kats? Wake up. I need to tell you something…”

Katsuki grumbled and his arm snaked around you, pulling you down to his level. “Shhh, m’head hurts.”

You giggled “Hey stop I’m being serious… I need you to get up.”

One of his eyes cracked open. “What’s up you sound like you’ve been crying.”

You sighed, “I haven’t been crying, but I am… stressed…” He sat up and moved so you were sitting facing each other. He nodded urging you to go on. “So… The reason Dabi uh… locked me in his office was so he could go to the store to uh… buy a…. pregnancy test.”

Your eyes stared at your hands and you heard him suck in a breath. “Are you? …Pregnant I mean.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know… we got some tests from the medical ward today and I’m about to take them. I’m just… a little scared.”

A medicine bottle whistled through the air and smacked Katsuki in the face. “We got you your medicine too. You’re welcome.” Shoto was smirking over by the coffee maker.

Katsuki groaned as he stood up. “One of these days I’m gonna kick the shit out of you, IcyHot Bastard.”

He stretched and held a hand out to you. “Alright, come on. Let’s go piss on a stick.”

You felt a weight starting to lift from your shoulders. “Wait. So you’re not mad?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “Why would I be mad? I knew what the two of you were doing. It’s not like you cheated on me. As much as I wish we were, we aren’t together.” His thumb came up to brush a tear away that you didn’t even know had fallen. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily Y/N. You being pregnant wouldn’t change how I feel about you. I would even be willing to tell people it’s mine if it makes it easier for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

It was quite for a few moments, while you absorbed and processed this new development. He was surprisingly calm about all of this, and it was making it easier for you as well.

“God you’re whipped.” Shoto handed the pregnancy test to you but was smart enough to remain behind you so Katsuki couldn’t hit him.

You left the boys to bicker as you entered your tiny bathroom alone. You peed on both of the sticks and set a timer on Katsuki’s phone. The next three minutes were the longest three minutes of your life.

You paced as you tried to think of anything else. But your thoughts kept going back to that night when Dabi held you in his recliner after fucking you. He had asked about you having a baby. He had sounded so hopeful. His eyes so bright at the idea of you having a kid with him. Part of you couldn’t believe that was an act. He had seemed so sincere. You thought about how he would react if he knew you were taking a test right now.

The timer went off.

Shit.

Was your whole life about to change?

With shaky hands you picked up the first test. You held your breath as you looked to the second one to confirm it.

You opened the door with tears in your eyes.

“So, what’s it say? Am I going to be an uncle?”

You let out an audible sob. “I don’t know why I’m so upset right now.” You showed them the tests. “They’re both negative.”

Katsuki wrapped you in a hug and ran his fingers up and down your back. “It’s okay to be sad. Shoto made some coffee, I don’t have plans today. We can hang out here until you feel better.”

You cried into Katsuki’s chest as you watched some cheesy movie. He didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t even know what to say if he thought it would help.

You were grieving a child you never had, and a love that was nothing but lies. You needed to let it out. You needed to grieve so you could move on. And this is how you do that.

By the time the credits rolled your eyes were dry and you nose stuffy. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something earlier…?”

Katsuki stiffened, “Yeah, but I think it can wait. You’ve already had a rough day.”

You shook your head, “No… I want to know. I’m just going to worry about it until you tell me. I’d rather you just rip the Band-Aid off.”

He nodded, “We got word that Dabi may have been seen by your old place. We aren’t sure it was him though. Toga had been previously spotted as well, so it’s more likely that it was her. But either way, it looks like the LOV is sniffing around.”

“W—What makes you think it was Toga?”

He cleared his throat, “We have an informant working in the LOV and he told us the last thing he heard about Dabi was that Shigaraki had sent a team to collect him… but when they came back they were bloody and he wasn’t with them.”

You sighed, “Of course he wasn’t.”

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

*The Laws* 1. No fucking shrugging 2. No drugs 3. No saying sorry for something that isn’t your fault 4.We work on communication every day 5. Wake up whenever the hell you want 6. No locked doors 7. We eat three full meals a day 8. No means no, no negotiations 9. We work on exercise every day 10. Ice cream must be kept in stock at all times 11. Accept help when it is offered 12. No lying 13. I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.

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

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi @sarahschance @babayaga67@starenemy

[mistymorningdewdr0p]

The Little Things You Keep Hidden From Me

~~~(this is a long one so bear with me! using she/they pronouns for namaari btw!)~~~

namaari likes things—she really really does! she just, well, never really knows where to put their stuff, just shoving it into a basket to get it out of sight...they had never really thought of it as a problem, just something that was obvious since she was so busy with all of her royal duties, but the longer she’s around raya the more they realize something might be up.

when raya and her start dating, they naturally begin to spend more time at each other’s homes, more specifically in each other’s rooms. the third time raya spends the night in fang since they’ve become official, she finally asks namaari just why her room is so incredibly bare, claiming it looks more like a spare room in a random inn rather than a living space. namaari is actually stumped by this question, answering that “she’s just too busy to put any posters up or little figurines out.” raya doesnt believe it though, she can tell there’s something else by the quirk in namaari’s brow that the fang princess does often without even realizing. nevertheless, raya let’s it go and cuddles deeper into her girlfriends neck, taking a mental note to bring it up when they’re both more awake.

the next time raya brings it up, however, is when the girls are sparring together to blow off some steam. namaari had already been slightly agitated from an argument with her mother so it probably wasn’t the best for raya to bring up right then. despite that, the princess of heart had tried to play it off in a joking manner, snickering a bit as she told the other princess that they should travel to talon sometime to pick up decorations so namaari can stop having such a “bare ass room”. the kick to the gut raya received immediately notified her that it was definitely a bad time, especially as she moaned on the ground in pain as namaari stormed off. despite it only taking them two days to reconcile after that, raya promised she wouldn’t bring it up again, even though namaari still hadn’t told her why the question bothered them so bad.

even though raya had said she wouldn’t bring up the issue again, she began to rethink after a short talk with sisu about the matter. the dragon had brought up a very good point: “why not just add things here and there and see how namaari reacts? that way nothing is permanent and namaari wouldn’t have to try and put her feelings into words, just remove what they didn’t want.”raya didn’t have the best feeling about this but she sensed that this issue was more than it seemed and that it needed to be explored so she took sisu up on her offer and put the plan into effect on her following trips to fang. she’d place a poster by namaari’s bed or a small dragon carved of trees from spine on the desk one day and place a plant or a book by the door the next. the first two items disappeared within the hour of them being up and the second two held out for a day. raya tried this again two more times and the same pattern followed. she was now missing a poster, the wood carving, the book, a throw pillow, a small teddy bear, and a plant—this only concerned her more as namaari hadn’t brought any of it up. just as raya was starting to give up on this experiment, a breakthrough moment happened.

it had been a exhaustingly long day of meetings and diplomatic hearings and all the two princesses wanted to do was sleep. they hung out on namaari’s bed, cuddling as they chatted with sisu who was perched on the windowsill before namaari decided she was going to shower. sisu said goodbye and raya started gathering her own belongings from her bag for bed. normally she’d join her girlfriend in the shower but they were both feeling much too sluggish for that kind of shower at the moment.

as raya was taking off her jewelry, one of her arm bands rolled off the edge of the bed and under the closet door on the other side of the room. she sighed in exasperation but got up to retrieve it nonetheless. when she opened the closet door and reached in to grab her jewelry, she was surprised to see a large basket placed in the middle of the chamber among her girlfriend’s clothes. she knew she should probably ask namaari if it was ok to open it but something in her gut was screaming at her to peak inside, so she looked behind her to make sure no one had entered the room without her knowing and moved to open the basket, face contorting in confusion when she saw what was in it.

in front of her sat all of the objects that she had placed in the room, all situated in such a way so that nothing was broken or squashed. raya also noticed some other objects like books and pages of artwork hidden under the materials she had lost. it took her only a moment to sigh sadly and put the lid back onto the basket. she made her way back to the bed and sat on it, head in her hands as she waited for namaari to return.

“i can’t believe how much dirt can stick to you when you sweat, it’s absolutely disgust-“ namaari said as she walked back into the room, now in her night clothes.

“raya? what’s wrong, why do you look so sad?” The fang princess said, closing the door behind them with a worried expression.

raya was silent for a moment before exhaling and standing up from the bed, walking over to her girlfriend and taking both of their hands in her own.

“when i was getting my stuff together for my shower, one of my arm bands fell off the bed and rolled under the closet door. i saw the basket, maari.” raya said, looking down at their conjoined hands.

“you didn’t open it, did you?” namaari said, voice clearly wavering as her eyebrows creased together.

“you know i had to. it didn’t feel right...” raya replied sadly.

“well it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a stupid basket.” namaari huffed, pulling her hands away from raya and walking away from her and towards the window, back to their girlfriend.

“that’s not true namaari. you and i both know what that basket is for.” raya could tell namaari was getting upset, their shoulders were tensing and her fists were squeezed into balls.

“i said it was nothing. drop it raya.” namaari warned, chest heaving as she started to get worked up.

“i will not drop it! why didn’t you tell me that you don’t keep any of your personal items out because you’re afraid you’ll have to flee fang one day and don’t want to risk leaving them behind?!” raya shouted, temper fully exploding.

to anyone else, that may seem like a ridiculous stretch, but raya knew better. she knew this is what namaari had done because she had done the same thing all her years of searching for sisu. since she had no time to gather her belongings the day the dragon gem broke, the only mementos from home she had left were the clothes and accessories on her body, tuktuk, and her father’s sword. for years as she traveled she never once took them out of her bag, in fear that she’d be ambushed and would have to outrun bandits or druun. she longed to be able to take out her clothes she was wearing that day and hold them close to her chest, focusing on how beautiful that morning had been with her father still in her life, but she was more terrified of losing them in the event she had to run for her life.

the basket was large but also made out of a very light material that was abundant in fang. the handles were designed to not pinch or strain the hands and the bottom was weaved in such a way that running with it would not be too much of a hinderance. raya immediately knew that this basket was bought for a specific purpose and the person who bought it hadn’t even realized how heartbreaking the situation was.

“so what?! i just want to be prepared, get off my case about it!” namaari shouted back, turning to face raya with a deep scowl on her face.

“namaari, being prepared is packing a bag with the essentials for survival! maybe even some extra clothes that mean a lot to you, this is not prepared! this is paranoid!” raya shouted, gesturing around the bare room with flailing arms.

“i am not fucking paranoid! who knows what could happen tomorrow?! who knows who i could lose at any moment in my life! just because i want to keep my things at the ready does not mean i am paranoid, it means i’m smart, don’t be jealous because you were too dumb to think of it!” namaari all but roared at their girlfriend.

they both froze for a moment, just looking at each other in a huff as they took in namaari’s words.

“i’m smart enough to know when someone is going through something and i’m smart enough to know that i need to step in to help. but yeah, guess i’m the fucking idiot for trying to check on you, my own girlfriend. my bad, though, i’ll try to be less dumb next time, yeah?” raya said, face stone cold as she grabbed her coat and left the room, leaving namaari with tears streaming down her face behind her.

~~~

namaari absolutely hates crying. not because they feel like they don’t have the right to do it, but because once she starts, she can rarely ever stop. she bottles up so much and when that bottle explodes every negative emotion she’s had just comes gushing out. they cried and cried, head feeling like it was going to split as she sobbed into her hands. they hadn’t meant to hurt raya’s feelings, they were just so incredibly ashamed their fears had gotten to them so badly. it took her an hour for the tears to stop falling from her eyes and one hour after that to fully compose herself enough to stand up from where she had sunk to the ground. they walked over on shaky legs to their closet and opened it, pulling out the basket and dumping the contents out onto the bed. she looked over the objects, finally understanding it had been raya who had placed them all in her room out of care and not her mother to spite her, the thought only making her want to cry again. she shoved it down and kept looking, eyes finally landing on the bear plushy that had rolled farther down her bed. she picked it up and sighed, holding it close to her chest as she bit back more tears.

“i hate it when you two fight.” sisu said solemly from the windowsill, voice soft but still startling namaari on accident.

“you and me both.” namaari responded, voice weak from their sobbing.

“she’s ready for you, you know.” the dragon said, making her way into the room to stand beside the fang princess.

“i know. it just, continues to shock me just how much she trusts i’ll always come back to her. i don’t think anyone but my mother has fought for me that hard.” namaari said, toying with the plush in her hands.

“i don’t think she’s ever wanted to fight for anyone as much as she fights for you, other than her father.” sisu replied, placing a hand on the human’s shoulder.

“i really messed up, sisu. i feel awful.” namaari said, leaning into the touch.

“nows your chance to make it right then, come on, she’s waiting.” sisu said, waiting for the princess’ consent before grabbing her by the waist and flying them out the window.

~~~

raya absolutely hated being angry. the feeling burned like thousands of fire ants under her skin that were crawling through her nerves and stinging at her body to get out. she just wanted to help namaari! that’s all. she had been exactly where the fang princesses had and it was eating her alive that she felt like namaari wasn’t trusting her.

after leaving namaari’s room she had managed to make it to the water front uninterrupted in an angry haze before sisu stopped her.

“woah, woah, woah, hold it right there, grumpy!” sisu said, stopping right in front of the heart princess.

“what’s with the frown?! did namaari kick you out again because you snore?” sisu said, completely oblivious to the fact raya was deeply upset by this.

“no sisu and i don’t want to fucking talk about it right now, move.” raya said harshly, pushing passed the dragon and continuing her stomping.

sisu was back in front of her in seconds, face now contorted in a scowl as she towered over the princess from heart. they had talked about how much sisu hated when people cursed at her, even if it was all light hearted, and it seemed like raya had forgotten and needed to be reminded.

“don’t talk to me like that. it’s disrespectful, princess.” the dragon all but spat at the human.

rayas eyes went wide, weak inhale filling her lungs as she understood what the dragon was saying. after a moment of them staring at each other, raya sighed, hands pressing onto her eyes as she started to tear up.

“you’re right. i’m sorry. i just—god i’m just so angry!” raya said, tears falling freely from her eyes at this point as she sunk to the ground. they were at the water front now, sitting on the edge of where the boats would dock.

“what happened?” sisu asked, gently wrapping her arms around her friend.

“namaari and i got into a fight about all of the missing stuff. i don’t know why i hadn’t put two and two together but she was hiding it in a basket in her closet because they were afraid they’d have to run from fang.” raya said, leaning into the dragon’s touch.

“why would they still be afraid? the druun are gone now.” sisu asked, face pulled into a worried expression.

“i would’ve asked them but they got defensive when i told them about the basket and you know when she gets defensive she starts acting like a jerk.” raya said, wiping her tears as they fell.

“sounds like someone else i know...”sisu said, smile clearly present in her voice.

raya laughed softly, sisu’s comment cheering her up slightly. she sighed and pulled away from the dragon, pushing her hair out of her face.

“i don’t want her to be afraid that they’ll come back. we’ve only talked about them a little bit i know she also has nightmares about it and it keeps her awake when i’m not with her. i just didn’t expect them to be so fearful that they refuse to keep anything permanent up in their room because they don’t think they’ll be able to take their belongings with them in case they have to flee.” raya said, now looking down at her hands.

“i know you just want to help but getting over stuff like that isn’t always easy, especially when you think you’re moving forward and it seems like ten things push you back. i know i’m not the best at relationship advice but maybe try letting her talk at you rather than with you.” sisu said.

“like how?” raya asked.

“let her get everything out: the nightmares, the objects and what they mean to them, all that stuff. no arguing and little to no commentary. just free talk. through that you might understand the underlying cause of all of this paranoia. which i’m also guessing you made her feel bad for so you should apologize for that asap.” sisu replied.

“you’re right, i know you are, it’s just—hard. i’ve never felt like this before, so in love with someone who has their own stuff to work through too, and i don’t want to mess it up because she deserves happiness.” raya said, looking up from her hands and at the dragon by her side, who she was surprised to see was wearing an expression of absolute surprise at what she had said.

“what? why are you so surprised? was it something i said?” Raya began—in that very moment realizing it was something she said. she covered her mouth with both hands and matched sisu’s wide eyes.

“raya, you said the L word.” sisu whispered.

“oh my god i said the L word.” raya echoed.

“sisu—i...” raya tried to speak but the words were caught in her throat. she had really said it out loud that she was in love with namaari, like fully and deeply in love with her and it was so overwhelming she began to cry again.

“i’m so proud of you, girl! admitting your in love is a big step. i’m so happy for you.” sisu said, pulling raya into a hug that was beating the edge of way too tight for a human and not tight enough for raya.

“thank you, sisu, you’re an incredible friend.” raya smiled.

“yeah, i know. i rock!” sisu chuckled, pulling away and getting up from where she had been sitting.

“now, i’m going to go get that other grumpy princess and you two are going to talk some things out, ok?” sisu said.

“ok, tell her i’m ready for her.” raya said, smiling as sisu sprang into the sky and glided to the palace.

~~~

even though it would seem like namaari would be afraid of heights, it was actually quite the opposite. they loved being in high places and looking out at the world around them. soaring through the air with a dragon, let alone the sisudatu, was not something she ever thought she’d do in her life—now? they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“this is your stop, your majesty. oh! and be on your best behavior or i’ll drop you in the ocean when i come back.” Sisu said, placing namaari on the ground next to raya.

“and that goes for both of you! best. behavior.” sisu added before flying off and leaving them alone.

both princesses sat in silence for a moment, both not entirely sure where to start.

“look, maari, i’m—“ raya began.

“No!” namaari countered, effectively cutting Raya off.

“you always take the first step. i don’t want you to think that i won’t meet you there. if it’s ok, i’d like to go first.” namaari said, sitting down next to the heart princess.

“ok, go for it, i’m here to listen.” raya replied.

“i’m really sorry for how i reacted. I didnt mean to hurt your feelings or imply you’re not intelligent. I was so ashamed that i let my fears get the best of me that i started acting like a...” Namaari began.

“A jerk?” Raya asked, mouth slightly quirked up at the corner

“A bitch.” Namaari smiled softly.

“I should’ve listened to what you were trying to tell me. I was being paranoid when i should’ve just toughened up.” Namaari finished.

Raya sighed and took her girlfriend’s hand that wasn’t holding onto the little bear.

“Don’t say that. You are not a bad person for being paranoid and it’s not so easy to just “toughen up” when it comes to trauma. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, i was so wrong for that, maari. And i’m also sorry for opening the basket without your permission.” Raya confessed, making good on her agreement with sisu to apologize for making Namaari feel less than because of her fear.

“thank you, that means a lot to me, raya. I just dont want to start thinking that the druun will never return only to be proven wrong if they do, it makes me feel stupid and like i should’ve known better than to expect better. the nightmares and the second guessing and the stress of being alone on a lot of open land with no water source...it’s all so hard to deal with sometimes. but i think i’m realizing the more i push it down the worse it gets.” Namaari confessed.

“as much as i wish i knew what i could do to make it hurt you less, I don’t think i’ll ever fully understand how you’re feeling, even if our situations used to be similar—so i’m gonna work really hard to prove to you that you can always come to me and get comfort, even if i don’t always know what it’s like. i guess i was just feeding my own fear that you didn’t trust me instead of realizing you were so afraid because you do trust me.” raya explained, squeezing her girlfriend’s hand tighter.

“i dont want to lose you, not like i did before.” namaari said, unshed tears making their eyes gloss over as they squeezed raya’s hand tightly.

they both knew they were talking about when raya turned to stone, since namaari was uncertain if putting the pieces back together was going to work at all—if they hadn’t that would mean raya would be gone forever.

“i promise you i’m not going anywhere. i love you far too much to not fight for you.” the heart princess said, placing her hand softly on namaari’s cheek to use her thumb and brush away a stray tear.

“please never stop loving me.” namaari pleaded, tears rolling down her cheeks now.

“i wouldnt dream of it, dep la.” raya said, pulling the fang princess in for a long overdue make up kiss. she firmly pressed her lips to namaari’s as she pulled the princess’s face towards her, love confession making her needy. though she wanted to savor namaari (thanks to her newfound energy of course), she knew that this kiss was all they needed right now.

“if you want, we can start taking one thing out from the basket at a time,” Raya said as she broke the kiss, “i think we should start with the plant since it hasn’t had water since i got it and is probably dead.”

namaari chucked at this, “of course you’d get me a thirsty, half-dead plant to slip into my room. you’re a menace.”

“maybe,” raya began, breaking her sentence up by pressing another kiss to namaari’s soft lips with a smile, “but i’m your menace so you can’t get mad.”

“i love you, dep la.” namaari said, leaning over with the bear still clutched in their hands to rest their head on raya’s shoulder.

“and i love you, princess.” raya echoed, placing an arm around her girlfriend to pull her closer as they looked out at the water as the moonlight glistened on it.

[funkypoacher]

Fixing jewelry/ necktie!!!!!!

This prompt has been sitting in my inbox for months. Well before Christmas, at least (I think). But thank you very, very much for the prompt, you’re always amazing for sending prompts, and I seriously appreciate it. And thank you to @sforzinda for getting me talking about Fallout (and Deacon), it kicked me in the butt to get something down.

Deacon/OC FO4 Fixing jewelry/sunglasses

“Come on,” she said, hands in her pockets. “It’s a hop and a skip from here. Although don’t actually do that, goof.”

Guiding the still-just-numbers synth along, she knew the newbie’s jitters were simply a by-product of being freshly sprung from the Institute. The kid—he looked about 45, but whatever—he didn’t even have a name yet. Hell, it could be said he hardly had a face. From brow to stubbled chin, his façade was rendered inert by robotic ignorance of expression. Unsurprisingly, maintenance units weren’t programmed to smile, sneer, or grimace horrified; his serene face, therefore, had not yet been given life by emotional language, and it’d be a real bitch if he learned to emote now, out of nervousness. So on they trod.

“Stay close,” she whispered. “Shouldn’t be anything to worry about, Goodneighbor is a pretty alright space. But it’s always better to keep out of peoples’ way.”

Her anxiety was hitting from the same place, really. Since returning to the Commonwealth, she’d been running on a fuel-mixture of paranoia and fear. Also panic. Loneliness, isolation; desperation. The Sads, The Dumps, and a Funk. And while this is where her list of personal woes ran out of room on the page, there wasn’t one thing that she felt—it wasn’t only one thing that she carried on her shoulders like a pack too burdened, or a body. She didn’t bear the dead weight of the Railroad—some of them had survived, after all—but she definitely struggled in supporting the truth that the Institute had hit them, that the Switchboard was gone, and that the rest… and the rest.

Yes, some Railroad members still lived. Yes, yes, thankfully yes. And she didn’t know a damn one of them.

Escorting the synth, staying up-beat for his sake, there it was nonetheless. Loneliness. Isolation. She was taking this coulda-been friend to be unmade. The mind-mug makeover he’d receive at Doctor Amari’s office was for his benefit, obviously, but she wished, desperately, that he’d reconsider. That he’d stay. With her. The safehouse she was working for—the Allen safehouse—was just four agents sitting around, idle, while being human. Not a crime, that; however, following Acadia’s social freedoms, the local stifle was exhausting. It would've been nice to be one synth among two—nice like warm baths and cold beer, which, of course, were Commonwealth indulgences. Nice was an indulgence. That was something she’d forgotten.

The guts-grinding fear of hearing too many footsteps behind you? That she hadn’t forgotten. Not even kinda.

Oh, good. We are being followed.

“Fuck.”

With a simple acknowledgement of the suspicion licking down her spine, there followed a subsequent hauling of ass. Insisting M6-26 down a side-alley by dragging, she urged him to Just Hurry.

“And if you have to, run,” she added over her slightly-jangled breathing. “Run and ask where the doctor is. Amari will help you, it doesn’t matter if I’m there.”

Although Goodneighbor looked small, it swelled. It expanded through turns, lanes, and streets. The streets were crowded by rubble and ruin, which was where the cramped feeling came from, but it wasn’t small. If anything made it small, it was situations like this. A dangerous presence threatening closer. The heart racing; one’s vision darkening.

In pulling the synth along, Goodneighbor got smaller, felt smaller, she felt smaller, in that terrible, specific way which was all she knew, lately. The Institute had fatally crippled the Railroad—there were no allies here, and her pistol only boasted one damned bullet. A clean run to Amari’s had been freaking crucial. And this—if they had to fight, then…

… Then one bullet was going to have to make the difference. Taking the first corner, she pressed close to the wall, wet and edged by broken brick, waiting to ambush.

Her jaw stiffened. Her breathing stopped. Gravel crunched. They were right there.

Surprise.

Springing forward, shoving their bird-dogger against the wall, that was it all it took: a quick look-see at the would-be killer. Sunglasses slid down the man’s nose, revealing rounded eyes, and, like Institute maintenance units, neither were Institute Coursers programmed to look surprised.

“Sorry,” she blurted out.

Thanks to paranoia and the months away, she’d all but forgotten how locals liked a fight. It was, statistically speaking, about a million times more likely that he was trying to rob them over working retrieval for the Institute.

Realizing there had been an offered apology to that possibility, she huffed, readying for a different headache.

The man squared his stance. It was a bit of a show. There were lengths gone to to seem large and imposing, from hunched shoulders to bent elbows, increasing the room he took up. He was clean shaven-ish, ishly-armed with a knife at his belt, and this suggested he was a good-enough dude having a bad day, which, actually, was worse than anything.

“Not the right neighborhood to be starting things in, girlie,” he roughly grumbled, glaring over the tops of his sunglasses. “Unless, of course, you’re looking to get… railroaded.”

It wasn’t that. It wasn’t that—using that term in such an obvious, ham-fisted way that made her stomach drop and her head go feather-light. It was… God damn, she could hardly stand. And it wasn’t how he’d said it, either. With that bad, Boston accent, layered with a parody of menacing.

Jelly legs… Heard of ‘em, but never had ‘em. Not until now, not until—

“My god.”

Her body understood first. Her mind continued reeling, but her hand—a limp hand moved forward, feebly pushing his sunglasses back into place, up the bridge of his nose. It was that—it was his eyes which had given him away. She knew it all over again as she placed a hand on his upper arm, clothed in stained denim, and took in the raw, rough surface of the ancient cloth. She knew it over, and over, and over, and that knowledge seeped a dazed, dreamy smile across her face as her mind cupped the understanding, at last, as though water from a stream.

He’s alive.

“You’re shitting me,” rasped Deacon, too awestruck for jaw-dropping joy.

“No.” She grinned numbly. “No, I am not. Man, I’m good, huh?”

“How, though?” Deacon shifted his weight from one leg to the next. “I got the face-swap weeks back, and walking into HQ… I mean, some people still don’t recognize me. And after five damn seconds, you—”

“It’s because you’re bad at voices, Deacon. I know how bad you are at…”

Oh.

Ah.

The sob that bubbled up through her throat she let spill into sobbing, though she had sense, at least, to stifle it in palms pressed hard at her lips. She hadn’t said his name once since hearing of the Switchboard’s demise. She hadn’t had anyone to say the name to, but that really didn’t matter. She’d forgotten how to speak it without attaching to it gratitude, affection, fear, and the dozening other definitions which, when balled up, overwhelmed.

‘Overwhelmed’ was under-stating, of course. She couldn’t breathe.

“Hey. Hey, Bigs, c’mon.” Deacon’s voice softened. “It’s alright.”

Holding her upper arms, like she had done to him, Deacon’s grip was firm. Allowing her to ride it out—to moan quietly in waves, heartbroken and happy, then nauseous at the combination—well, a hug would have been better, but that wouldn’t’ve been him.

“Sorry.” Laughing stupidly, she wiped her cheeks, finding that talking was actually calming. “I—frick. I just—I mean, I thought…” Sigh. “Dejen came to Acadia and told me what happened,” she explained, watching Deacon through fresh tears, “so obviously I thought you were dead. Who else is okay? Where has everyone…?”

“Dejen got out?” Deacon’s hands dropped, propping on his hips. “Good, that’s—I mean, that’s the kind of good news we could definitely use.”

She nodded. She understood. Again. “So it’s bad, then?”

“Yeah.” His throat rolled. “It’s bad.” Cracking a smile, however, he was suddenly Deacon Takes A Holiday From The Doldrums, nonchalant and flashing pearlies. “But, hey, now you’re here. Big Mama is back. Bigger and better than ever, am I right? Plus, you brought a friend.”

Side-stepping the initial oopsie of realizing the synth had probably watched this in confounded dread, she got tripped up on the fact that she wasn’t in Acadia anymore—and that she had to watch what she said, and how, a hell of a lot closer.

“This is…” Approaching M6-26’s side, she placed a hand on his arm, adding a soothing squeeze. “This is Allen. He’s… out of Allen. We are on our way to the, uh, Memory Den for some new… memories, and this…” Turning to M6, she explained, “this is a friend.”

Deacon’s voice distanced in surprise. “Allen is still functioning?”

“You didn’t know?”

The man paced. “We’re getting our bearings. Slowly. But, no, since we all lost our heads and our quarters, wink-wink, what we know could fill a goddamn bottle cap. Protocol says we let things simmer a little longer before reaching out—”

“But you don’t give a shit about protocol,” she said, smiling.

“But I don’t give a shit about protocol,” was his echo. “Goes to show how hard it’s been to do the talky-talk thing with other Allens lately. Good to know some still have the resources to fight the good fight, though.”

They stopped speaking long enough that the world crept back in. It started with a glass shattering somewhere, every piece and fractal heard decimating against a wall, or the ground. A vulgar laugh followed. A shout. A bang. Wham, bam, thank-you… hm.

She glanced at M6. “We should get going.”

Deacon nodded. They were two steps in when she asked, casually, “who else is left?”

“Phft. Where’s the fun in telling you?” Deacon shook his head. “Come on—we get back to HQ, and you’ll see. Plus, the new digs? Very fancy. Very, uh… Cozy. That’s what you say when you’re packed in like sardines, right?”

“Dee, come on. Tell me. Is Glory, at least…? Is she—is Tommy alright?”

Like her, he stopped. Stopped walking, stopped talking, stopped bullshitting. He looked at her, and long ago she’d learned to read his body in lieu of getting a clue at his shaded eyes. Deacon’s hands were on his waist, his head was craned back, expression one for the sky, which, away from people, was where he preferred to hide his pain, and vulnerability. But he had stopped. Stopped walking, stopped talking. Stopped bullshitting.

“Mom, if I’m being honest, counting down the survivors is a little like listing out the dead. And I… “ By nature, Deacon’s voice cracked. With this, it hitched in his throat, shook and shattered, and was gone.

She changed the subject.

“Dawn.”

Head snapping in her direction, Deacon obviously hadn’t understood, which was fair. Confusion distracted, and that’s what she’d been going for.

“What?”

“I mean, obviously my codename is the same, I’ll always be Big Mama, but I…” Fingers knit together, she went nearer, smiling gentle. “I picked out a name. A real one. It’s Dawn.”

Deacon nodded. He looked at her for so long, and so steadily, that she started to believe he’d forgotten the world.

He hadn’t.

“Pretty,” he finally said.

Deacon, Dawn, and M6-26 continued to Dr. Amari’s.

[ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey]

A Secure guy

Written for the Hinny Ficfest 2021. 

Thank you @clarensjoy for organizing this! Really! We're so lucky to have you!!

@thedistantdusk , you're a sweetheart and I love you. Thank you again for everything. That was the sweetest surprise.

Prompts:

#66: “That was the last time. I’m serious this time.”

#85: “She deserves flowers and gifts and a secure guy who isn’t almost murdered by lunatics left and right and I can’t give her that.”

Also available on Ao3.

TW: Rated M just in case. And really angsty.

She deserved flowers and gifts and a secure guy who wasn’t almost murdered by lunatics left and right and he couldn’t give her that.

Harry knew it was a matter of time, he wasn’t that stupid or delusional. 

He just hoped it’d never come and the emotions jostling in his heart hurt like hell, so much more he’d thought it would.

The bed bounced when she retrieved her jumper from the floor of his room and got dressed. 

“That was the last time. I’m serious this time,” Ginny murmured in the night, hooking her bra behind her back, her voice colder than ever before. 

Harry contented himself to nod, unable to come up with a reply anyway. The ball in his throat suffocated him, and yet, to his despair, he wasn’t dying. 

She meant it this time, it was evident. He had to resign himself that it was over, the end of a story, of a story he had himself destroyed. Ginny had turned the page and it wasn’t her fault if he was still stuck in the past.

It was over. Never again would the tips of his fingers graze her hot skin, his palms brush her thighs, his lips skim her face or his nails scratch at her back. 

It would be someone else’s task now, he reckoned. 

She hadn’t looked at him at all this time, keeping her eyes shut, her lips away from his, like it was now forbidden to cross that line. He’d noticed the difference right away, leaving him tight-lipped. His lips had searched hers but she’d turned her head, her long hair colliding with his face. His heart racing, his movements unsteady, he’d tried again, but she’d pulled back completely, increasing the speed of her hips connecting with his, her hands clutching his biceps.

Harry understood at this instant that something had changed in their intimate relationship, that she wasn’t interested to share that part of her with him anymore. He contented himself to observe her while he was trying to pleasure her, her silhouette blurred from his lack of glasses. He cherished every pant and sigh coming from her lips, touching, with a heavy heart, these sections of her body only he knew of.

For now. 

It had killed him to not feel her trembling on him from the intensity of their love-making. Ginny had  jumped from him the second she finished like he’d burned her. Clenching his jaw,  he realized another man would have that chance now, and that he should have relished in it more the last time they had been together. He hadn’t expected it, as stupid as it sounded, and now he was let trying to grasp at every single souvenirs of it he could recover in his memory. 

Thus far, she’d stayed close to him in bed after, her head on his chest, her sweet smelling hair tickling his chin, just like before he decided to fuck it up.

But he prefered to crush his dream life then to live with the possibility of endangering her.

She got off of the bed, the sheet moving from his bare chest at the same time. He couldn’t look at her getting dressed or leaving his room for the last time, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to bear it, that it would be the last image of them sharing something intimate together. 

It was his decision and he couldn’t expect her to act like he hadn’t broken up with her. 

Again. 

His eyes stung, and yet, he did nothing to stop it, too devastated to sooth the pain. He stared at the ceiling of his room, arms crossed over his heart, attempting to protect the last bit of dignity he could gather. 

The door closed behind her, the click reasonating in his ears, and he was left alone to face his intolerable heartache like a big boy. But it hurt more than knowing you were the only one to save the world, more than wishing your mum would rock you at night after a nightmare, realizing your aunt would probably be willing to do that for anyone else but you. Because you were different, you were dangerous.

Because Ginny had been the only one he’d ever trusted enough to be completely vulnerable in her presence, with whom he’d accepted to share the most private parts of him. Their relationship had been a turning point in his life, raw, essential to his survival. Special enough that she could scream to the world the feel of her lips on his was the principal reason they were rid of Voldemort. 

The first threatening sob escaped his lips, the sound breaking the silence of the room, and then another, and another, and he found himself unable to control his shaken body.

Rolling on his side, he brought up his knees to his chest, struggling to breathe, the flow of his tears flooding his pillow. 

He deserved the pain. He deserved it. Because he was different, too dangerous, and Ginny couldn’t be with him. 

He grasped his comforter, bringing it to his nose in hope it was filled with her flowery scent and he could get the impression she was here, close to him. Just one last time. Just once.

Crying convulsively, shedding tear after tear, Harry didn’t even hear when the door creaked again. 

“Sorry I forgot my- Harry?!”

He tried, really tried, to stop the last sob from crossing his lips, in vain. Sealing his lips together, Harry hoped Ginny wouldn’t judge him or take pity on him, or worse, fetch Ron. 

He stayed still, hearing his heart pumping in his ears and feeling dizzy from the sadness and anger at himself consuming his insides. 

The mattress sank under Ginny’s weight and Harry felt her feet against his calves. One of her hands settled on his shoulder, the other one taking residence in his hair, tentatively brushing lock after lock. She pressed against his back, her clothes remembering him she didn’t stay this time. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here,” she whispered in his ear.

“You-you don’t want to be here,” he managed to reply, shame rousing inside him. Harry was mortified she found him in a ball on his bed after they just had sex. His chagrin  was eating him alive, sending him spiralling in a dark void where he could only feel hatred and disgust for himself, but also heartache and something related to agony, he was sure of it. 

The silence stretched a moment until Harry sniffed, his hand squeezing the comforter tighter against his chest. An owl hooted outside, reviving Harry’s melancholy at not having Hedwig to talk to, with whom he could share without embarrassment his fright of dying without being loved. 

“That’s only because you don’t want me to be here, Harry,” murmured Ginny, her words shattering his heart. Regret burnt in his veins, knowing he’d afflicted Ginny with his deepest terror.

Being dumped, ditched by the person you trusted the most. 

Harry turned on his back, needing her to understand she did nothing wrong, on the contrary, that he never wanted her to feel abandoned or betrayed. But the words died in his throat when he saw her eyes filled with her own tears. 

“I just want to protect you from me,” he pleaded with her to understand. She had to understand.

Ginny closed her eyes, inhaling sharply, the hand that was on his shoulder now playing with the hair on his chest, close to his heart. Harry remembered that time to cherish it, to incrust in his mind the solace her small fingers on his skin brought him, soothing the violent anguish torturing his mind. “You’re hurting me more than anyone else could ever do,” she spat at him.

He sniffed again, her words like a knife twisting his heart. He searched for something to say, for the best way to explain his train of thoughts, but he’d never been the best at formulating his idea. 

“Well, I guess I have nothing else to do here,” said Ginny, and he felt her hand lifting from his chest.

He panicked. “No, no. Stay. Please, Ginny.”

She frowned. “Why? For me to hurt even more when you’ll tell me you didn’t change your mind? That you still don’t want to be with me? Just in case? You can’t, Harry. It can’t continue. You can’t fuck me, kiss me like we were still together, and then expect me to be all good with it when you gently remind me we’re not. It’s destroying me,” Ginny said, her voice cracking. Her hand lifted to her mouth and she closed her eyes before turning her back to him, exactly like she did when he let her alone in her room after their last kiss years ago. 

He let her down so many times.

But all he could think of was that: Was she really thinking he only used her body lately for his own physical needs? How could she have been aware that each time they had touched, it  had been the only times he’d felt alive lately? 

She wasn’t trusting him anymore, just like most people she knew. He was now discarded in the “dangerous category”, the same as Tom.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Swallowing, he pressed his palms to his teary eyes, begging himself to regain control of his emotions. Harry sat up, his hand shaking when he moved it to her back. “Don’t- don’t hide from me.” 

He started caressing her back, feeling more confident with her than he ever felt with any other crying girl. Merlin, he was so messed up, he didn’t even know why Ginny ever wanted him. 

Harry should have realised Ginny's trust was something difficult --maybe impossible-- to regain, and that was why she didn’t turn back, still trying to muffle up her sobs. 

He had to try though, to show her it was real what they ever shared, that he meant it when he told her he loved her. He should have said it more, showed it more.

At this point, Harry didn’t even know what he was doing, his mind confused, his needs, desires, dreams and fears all twirling and colliding in his head. There were still dangers at being with him, to be displayed by his side, to be linked to him, and his anxiety of losing her was strong enough to leave him breathless and choking in fear. Harry was unable to think straight when it happened, ready to do anything to keep her safe.

Yet, he made a mistake. Again. He knew it now. 

“I’m sorry, Gin. I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, laying his forehead on her shoulder. 

The tears started flowing from his eyes again but he didn’t hold them in, knowing it was no use. Not when it came to her being in pain, a pain he caused. 

“I-I don’t,” he tried. “I don’t know what-what to do. I don’t want you to die too.” 

There was a beat, and then Ginny turned, laying her forehead on his, keeping her eyes close. “I understand, I’m terrorized by the idea of you dying too,” she confided to him, her fingers dancing around his wrist. “Just- I’m my own person and it’s my choice who I date. Just act with your heart for once. I’ll deal with your decision, but-”

“Can I kiss you?” whispered Harry, knowing he’d made up his mind. A life without her was meaningless and he was nonfunctional without her love.  His hand went up to her freckled cheek, the skin there so soft compared to his rough palm. 

Taken aback, Ginny swallowed before humming in response. Without opening her eyes, she leaned her mouth to his, her breath warming his chin. The tip of her tongue moisted her lips in the most tantalizing way, causing Harry’s head to spin, and then she crushed her lips to his. 

He kissed her with fervor, with a passion he wasn’t aware he was capable of. She pushed on his chest and he brought her body with his on the mattress. Straddling him, she kissed his neck and he felt himself being consumed with desire, with a powerful lust leaving him panting. Ginny chuckled in his neck  and then lifted her head to look into his eyes, giving him such a sensual smile he groaned in longing. 

Their love-making this time was like he was remembering it: full of intensity and filled with love, little attentions and pure ecstasy. 

"Give me some time," she whispered when they were regaining their breath, her head resting on his chest. “I-I need time.” Harry’s breath hitch and Ginny surely heard it because she lifted her head and moved on him to rest her chin on her hands, which were close to his heart. She kissed his chin tenderly. 

“I love you, I just-”

“I understand,” said Harry, cutting her. Because he did, really did. “I’ll wait. I love you. Forever,” he told her earnestly, caressing her hair and promising himself he’d do all he ever needed to do to get her trust back.

[with-paint]

Not Alone

Part 1 of 2 of Whatever the Outcome Series

Rating: Teen and up

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,555

Summary: Lip needs your help to convince Amanda to speak to the board regarding the picture she leaked of Helene, and you’re coming for blood

Warning: lots of swearing, blood, broken nose, slut shaming (kinda)

A/N: Okay so clearly I’m watching Shameless and writing Fics as I go. I know I got problems. That’s on meeee. I’ve never written for Lip so don’t @ me if it’s ooc. Set in 6x06. Part 2

A series of knocks on your dorm room door made you sit up blearily. The mid afternoon sun streamed into your room and you looked over at your roommates bed. It was empty. The incessant knocking turned into frantic pounding as the door remained unanswered. Yawning and stretching you stumbled out of bed, ready to cuss out whoever decided it was a good idea to wake you up.

“Alright shit what do you want?!” You hissed throwing the door open. Lip Gallagher stood there, he ran a hand over his mouth and jaw and let out a heavy breath.

“Y/N fuck can you come with me to talk to Amanda about Helene? Amanda’s always liked you. Maybe she’ll listen if you come.” He rushed out looking behind his shoulder to her dorm room.

You blinked at him and sighed deeply. This was about the pictures of Professor Runyon, of fucking course it was.

“She’s scared of me idiot. Alright fine. Let me put some pants on.” You sighed out and turned away from him. Tugging a random pair from your floor, you shoved them on and turned back to Lip. Usually he’d make some comment about your constant state of half nakedness, but not today. He was standing in your doorway, eyes staring at the floor. His thumb traced his lips. You couldn’t help but notice how bright his blue eyes looked. They always got this way when he was stressed. Something you always thought was both incredibly endearing as well as so fucking sad.

Usually eyes get brighter when their owner is happy and carefree. Not with Lip. The poor boy only knows the feeling of stress so his anatomy worked around it.

You smiled softly and put a hand on his shoulder, scaring him out of his panicked silence.

“It’s gonna be alright. We’ll fix this. It’s gonna be alright Lip.” You murmured rubbing, what you hoped, was soothing circles into his tense shoulder. He let out a deep breath and allowed himself five seconds to calm down before his eyes snapped open and he pulled away from you abruptly.

“Alright let’s go.” His voice was still rushed, but not nearly as fast. He jogged over to Amanda’s dorm room, looked over at you for confirmation, and began banging on her door as loudly as he had yours.

You let out a little laugh and slammed your open palm on the door next to his, yelling at Amanda to open the fuck up.

“Open up Amanda.” He called and you kept your knocking up to keep the noise loud and clear for this horrible person. “Look just tell the board you made a mistake.” Lip called again.

You kicked the door and yelled your own plea to get her to open up, “Say you’re a jealous cunt and you didn’t mean to get her in trouble.” Lip looked at you with an eyebrow raised. You only shrugged and kicked away at her door again before it swung open.

Amanda stood in all her stuck up glory, holding two bags and looking down on the both of you. You wanted to deck her on sight. You never liked her and when you found out she was the one to send out the picture because her itty bitty heart had been broken, you were halfway across campus to break her arm before Lip caught you and carried your swearing form back to your room. You kept your anger in check this time. This was all Lip’s fight and causing this bitch any pain would only result in more harm done.

You leaned on the door frame as Lip took up most of the space in the doorway to plead with Amanda.

“What board?” Amanda snapped looking between the two of you. “Y/N why the fuck are you here?” She huffed.

“Like the committee, the provost.” Lip cut in before you could make a wise ass comment and make Amanda even less likely to help you two out.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” She said and had the audacity to seem irritated with this conversation. You forced down a snarl.

“What do you mean? They didn’t ask you to come in?” You hissed instead. There was no way she was getting out of the mess she created without having any repercussions.

“Nope. Excuse me.” She said dismissing you and attempted to push past you two, but you stepped forward and crowded her, she took a step back and turned to Lip with a sigh.

“Okay, wait, then, then make a statement or post a retraction somewhere.” Lip stuttered looking frantically between the both of you.

“Where?” She demanded.

“Online!” Lip exclaimed, sounding as panicked as he looked. You pursed your lips and crossed your arms. If she kept this “holier than thou” attitude up you were going to make her bleed.

“Do you actually not understand how the Internet works?” Amanda spat. You took a step forward, read to level her only to have Lip pull you back by the waist.

“I don’t care how it works, okay! Helene could lose her job!” Lip shouted before his voice faltered at the end. He squeezed your stomach as a grounding point and you stayed still. Letting him have an anchor in his panic. Amanda jumped in at the sign of weakness.

“Well, maybe she should have thought about that before she started banging her students! And maybe you should learn how to treat the girls that you sleep with better. Ever heard of the campsite rule?” You wanted to punch her right in her snotty nose. You completely agreed with her, but making the dig about how Lip treated people was too far. Amanda knew damn well all she was was a fuck buddy and she created this fantasy of a boyfriend in her mind. It wasn’t Lip’s fault, it was hers.

“The what?” You spoke up, an eyebrow raised as you challenged her. Lip sighed sounding dejected.

“Leave the area in better shape than you found it, asshole. Move.” She spat and knocked her shoulder aggressively into Lip.

“Wait wait wait.” He cried letting go of you to block her path.

“Give me a break.” She whined doing all but stomping her foot down.

“Where are you going?” You said interrupting her tantrum. She huffed and looked down at her bags.

“The Feminazis are after me. Accused me of trying to destroy a high-status female because I’ve internalized my own gender oppression. Two thousand comments on my Facebook page, including death threats. My parents want me to leave campus until it blows over. You’re on your own, Lip.” She turned the lights off in her room before facing Lip again.

She smiled sickly and hissed out. “But then again I guess you always were.”

You sucked in a deep breath, shoved Lip out of the way, and slammed your forehead into Amanda’s nose. Her glasses fell off as she doubled over, gripping her nose in shock and pain. A scream came out of her mouth as she stumbled back into her dorm. You made a move to lunge at her before Lip’s arms grabbed you by the midsection again and hauled you back.

“Y/N that’s enough!” He yelled as you tried to kick out from his hold. Wanting nothing more than to get your hands on the now fake blonde cunt who ruined two peoples lives with her bullsht jealousy. You didn’t like Helene either, fuck you might’ve even hated her. But Lip was falling for her and she made him incredibly happy. So you kept your mouth fucking shut.

“You send out a statement to the board right now you bitch!” You snarled watching as she cried hysterically, her tears mixing in with the blood gushing from her nose. It was now crooked and you stared at her broken nose for as long as possible. Wanting this to be what you remembered when you thought of the fucking skank. The damage she deserved from your own hands.

Lip yanked you as he walked backwards. “Amanda shit, I gotta go!” He yelled as you kicked and flailed, your feet off the ground as Lip hauled you away from his former fuck buddy. He kicked open your door and dumped you on your bed. You scrambled off it and made for the door before Lip was on you again. He forced you back on the bed and straddled you to keep you down.

“Hey hey hey that’s enough! You broke her fucking nose I think you did enough!” Lip sighed and rested his head by your elbow. “We’re fucked. It’s over.”

He sounded so broken as he rolled off you and lay face first in your pillow. All the anger in your body melted out as you took in the sad dejected boy curled up next to you. You ran your hand through his hair and sighed.

“Lip I’m so sorry.” He didn’t say anything just laid there letting you comfort him.

You didn’t know how this would end. Didn’t know if Lip would get expelled or Professor Runyon would lose her job. But you knew whatever the outcome, you were going to be there in Lips corner. Because what Amanda said was dead wrong. Lip wasn’t alone. And he never had been.

[lonelyreputation]

Trouble in Canada • TWO

A/N: Thanks for your patience & thanks for all your support 🥰 Only 3 months late with this 🥴 Can’t believe I’m posting TiC2 AGAIN wow I’ll forever love this series bc of you all 🤧🤧

THANKS A MILLION A MILLION FOR ALL YOUR KIND WORDS!! I love you all with all my heart 🥺🤧

TROUBLE IN CANADA PT. 1 | MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: Arguing, angst, few swear words here and there

WC: 10.1K // Angst

“We need to talk.”

The cup of tea you held slipped through your hands and shattered.

Normally when a glass shattered in your apartment, Shawn would always rush forward.  He would always push you back, no walking around without shoes, he would say out of care as he kneeled down to pick up the minuscule shards of glass, don’t want you getting glass stuck in your foot.

But the two of you just stood there, looking at each other with different emotions swimming in your eyes, as the ceramic mug lay destroyed at your feet.

You had never seen your husband lack emotion in his eyes.  His eyes were always your favorite aspect of him, they were one of the first things about him that you fell in love with.  His eyes that normally held love, care, and compassion were now dark, empty, and held a hint of anger.

While his eyes held negativity, you felt the back of your eyes prick with tears, throat tight with sadness.  But you were looking at him with eyes wide of desperation––full of questioning and heartbreak–––because why on earth wasn’t he wearing his wedding ring.

You knelt to the ground, getting to work on picking up the broken mug, because you didn’t want him getting glass stuck in his foot.  It felt as if you were getting a glimpse into how this conversation with your husband was going to go; you trying to pick up the remnants of your heart that you could already feel breaking.

Once you got the small pieces together, you walked over to the trash can with Shawn’s eyes following you with every move.  You brushed the pieces in the bin and took the broom from the closet to dispose of the larger breaks.  You held eye contact with him as you walked back out into the entry area of your apartment.

His eyes trailed your every movement with skepticism, like he didn’t trust you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your emotions at bay, as the broken pieces of the mug made a clanking noise when you swept them together.  You looked up at Shawn through your eyelashes and saw his eyebrows pulled together as if he was thinking of what to say.  

Frankly, you didn’t think you were able to say anything.  He was the one who said that the two of you needed to talk, you had no idea what you wanted to talk about. You figured that you would be listening to more of his side of the conversation than talking.

When did he take off his wedding ring?

“That was the mug I got for you on our second Valentine’s Day together,” his words were only slightly louder than the broken pieces falling into the bin, his voice cracked, “And you––you’re throwing it away?”

You stopped dumping the glass pieces into the trash, and looked up at him with sad, questioning eyes, “It’s…broken?”

Placing the dustpan on the counter, you walked out from the kitchen and stood in front of Shawn, and for the first time since before you started dating all those years ago, you didn’t know what to say.

“Are you not even going to try and fix it?!”

The pain behind his voice sounded like he was talking about so much more than a broken mug.

Cautiously, you took a step forward, eyes glancing down at his bare hand, then stared into his fuming eyes, “Why…” You gulped, eyes returning down to where his wedding ring should be.

Why was he not wearing his wedding ring?

In theory, the question shouldn’t be a hard one to ask him.  He was your husband, there were no secrets between the two of you in the decade you’ve known each other.  There were no secrets between the two of you as you slept next to each other at night, his arm thrown around you to keep you safe; there were never any secrets.

But now? Now you didn’t know.  You didn’t know the words to string together in order to ask him why he took off the ring you slid on his finger the day you promised to love each other for eternity.  

The nausea built up in your stomach slowly, bile churning with each thought that passed through your mind.    

What made him not want to wake up with you every morning?

Nothing was settling right in your stomach.  Nothing about this was a case of, oh, sorry I forgot to return your calls I was too busy.  He had dodged your calls, purposefully avoided you––his wife––and now he was standing in the middle of your home not wearing his ring.

Your house didn’t feel like much of a home anymore.

For a moment you pushed your doubts aside.  You tried not to focus on the pain in your heart as you shifted your focus on something else you needed to discuss with Shawn; your cooking instructor.  

The thought of Ethan had been weighing down on your mind ever since your last lesson.  You lightly touched your wrist, remembering the way his hand tightly circled around your wrist that day.  The glower of possessiveness he held in his eyes when he looked at you caused you to shudder at the memory.  The feeling of embarrassment flooded your entire body as the phantom pain of hot oils dripping down your back as the whole class stood and watched.

You wished you had confided in Shawn about the uncomfortable actions Ethan demonstrated during each lesson.  

Pushing your crumbling heart to the back of your mind you took a deep breath, anxiety crawling up your throat, “I need to––um––I want to tell you something.”

Feeling nervous in front of your husband wasn’t uncommon. Everyday you had spent with him felt like the day of your first date; on your toes, giddy about what the rest of the day would bring––excited to spend the day with him.  It’s what made you fall in love with him at a rapid pace.  But while you were accustomed to the affect of your heart skipping a beat whenever you were around him, this was a different kind of nervousness.

This nervousness felt more like knowingly walking into a trap instead of a blissful evening with your husband.

With another deep breath, you looked down at your sock clad feet, not wanting to see his reaction, “There was um––Something happened when you were on tour–––”

“Can’t even look me in the fucking eyes when you say it?”

You whipped your head up, eyes wide, and for the first time you were frightened of your husband.  His tone was lethal, words sharp, as his jaw was set, “I would’ve thought you could at least do that when you tell me––”

You took a step backward, “Tell you what?”

For a second the animosity he held in his eyes fell and was replaced with desperation, “Don’t,” his voice cracked for the second time as he sniffled, “Don’t make me say it.”

While you felt your heartbreak at the hopelessness in his tone, he sounded exactly how you felt on the inside.

“Shawn,” you said his name carefully, afraid that if you said one wrong word he would explode like a time bomb, “I––I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let out a scoff, “Okay, then,” he crossed his arms over his chest and sent you a glare so strong it felt like you were slammed into the wall behind you, “Go on.”

You knew this was something important you had to share with him.  He’s your husband, you thought to yourself, he’s here to protect you––to keep you safe––you should tell him.  But everything about him seemed off.  His stance was guarded, arms stiffly crossed over his chest, as he coldly stared at you.  

“Um, well,” you nervously twisted your sweaty hands together in front of you, “When you were on tour there was this…guy,” you shuddered at the thought of Ethan, ‘And he––There was a situation––”

“Just fucking say it,” He sounded tired, but his words were still powerful, “Fucking say it and then we can be done.”

His words felt like a dagger piercing your chest.  All of the oxygen left your lungs as you were left breathless, hand pressed against your chest to shield you in any way from his dismissive tone, “What?” You gasped out, “Be done with what?”

“You know.”

“I don’t––”

“You,” his hand reached into his over the shoulder travel bag and pulled out a magazine, “Know.” His voice was laced with venom as he threw the magazine at the floor in front of you, “You fucking know.”

Gently, you bent down and picked up the edgeworn magazine, and it automatically opened up to an article.  The pages looked crinkled as if someone had read these pages until they had the words memorized. The top right edge of the glossy paper looked like it had been folded over repeatedly. And you didn’t miss the tear stains that smudged some of the inked words.

You read the bold headline––Trouble In Canada–-over a few times before your eyes darted around the two page spread that contained an article and blurry pictures of you with Ethan; specifically on the last day of class where you were pressed up against him.  The angle of the picture made you look guilty of an act that you never thought of committing against your husband.  Your breath, along with your heart, stopped beating as you glanced up at Shawn before skimming the article.

He misses Y/n––Below, pictures of Y/n and a mystery man have appeared––Everyone around him knows how much he loves his wife––Noticable changed––It’s not going to end well.

It’s not going to end well.

You clenched the magazine in your hand, “Who’s the source?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?!” Shawn let out a laugh, “Not that I had to find out through my mother texting me a link to an article about how my wife was having an affair?!”

Your eyes widened as the magazine dropped to the ground.  

An affair.  He thought you had an affair.

Your eyes darted back to Shawn’s hands.  He nervously rubbed his thumb along the underside of the finger where his wedding band used to take up space.  He thought you were having an affair with a person who made your skin crawl.

“Who––”

“Does it matter?!” He threw his hands up as he yelled before his voice quieted down, repeating the question under his breath, “Does it matter?”

You shook your head rapidly as you walked forward, wanting to reassure him that the article had it all wrong, “Shawn, that’s not––It’s a shitty tabloid, Ethan isn’t––”

“Don’t,” You stopped walking forward and started walking backward as Shawn angrily pointed a finger at you, words laced with malice, “Say his name.”

You felt your eyes begin to water, chest heaving up and down as your worst nightmare was slowly starting to become a reality, “He’s not––That isn’t––Those pictures are not what it looks like.”

“They seem pretty self-explanatory,” His voice fell in sadness, “I would wait hours to call you––”

“Shawn, listen––”

“Hours,” he cut you off, bottom lip quivering, “to hear about your day.  I would wait hours to hear your voice calm me down because touring is stressful and you were the only person who was capable of calming me down––”

“Were?”

“––Only to find out that you’ve been running around with someone else!”

“You stopped picking up my calls!” Your voice was pleading with him, “I stayed up for hours at night wondering what I did––”

“You were having an affair!” He matched the volume of your yells, “Why would I want to talk to you?!”

He wasn’t listening to you.  It seemed as if he was so caught up in the narrative he created in his head that he didn’t want to listen to you.  He thought it was better to believe the heartbreak of you running into another person’s arms while he was the one who was left in the dust.

“Were you that lonely,” Shawn narrowed his eyes, voice gravelly low, “That you went to someone else? Christ––We have the money that you could’ve used to come out and see me! Or have you had enough of me?”

“Do you even hear yourself––”

“Was being married to me too much?” He let out a sarcastic laugh, “After years together, you can’t even handle a single year of marriage. What ever happened to for better or for worse––”

“I didn’t have an affair!”

You stomped your foot on the ground as if you were a little girl throwing a tantrum.  Your voice was high, throat scratchy from trying to hold back your tears as Shawn threw countless accusations your way.  But when Shawn accused you of making a mockery of your wedding vows to him, that’s when he crossed the line.

The room was silent, your words ringing through the apartment just as loud as the ringing in your ears.  Shawn looked shocked, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide at your outburst.  Never once had you screamed about something so desperately.  But this was your marriage.  This was your marriage to the person you thought would love and trust you until the end of your life.  And you thought he would love and trust you until the end of his life.

“I didn’t,” your bottom lip trembled as you sucked in a breath, a few tears leaking from your eyes, “I would never,” you hastily wiped away the falling tears on your cheek with the heel of your palm, “Do you honestly think that little of me?”

Shawn opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.  His cruel words still floated around in the air.  After all the love songs he wrote about you not once did you think he was capable of saying words as degrading as the ones he yelled at your face.

“That guy,” you closed your eyes and brought your hands up to your forehead, trying to subdue the raging pain in your forehead from all the yelling, “Was the cooking instructor Jessie and I had for our cooking lessons.”

“I don’t want to know––”

“He,” you cut Shawn off before he could find another way to belittle your feelings, “Wasn’t very…helpful as a teacher.” You bit the inside of your cheek, mirroring Shawn’s position and crossing your arms across your chest as you bounced your leg, “Sometimes he would––”

“God,” the pain in Shawn’s voice struck a chord with you, “Do you really think I want to know what you two did together?!”

You stood there frozen, not being able to wrap your head around the situation you found yourself in with Shawn, as the two of you looked into each other’s eyes with opposite emotions.  

Your eyes were wide as they overflowed with desperation, terrified that your marriage was about to come to an end; they poured over with hurt from the devastating allegations Shawn proposed.

Shawn’s eyes were narrowed at you as they seethed with aggression, on the edge of becoming unhinged at the thought of someone stealing the love of his life right under his nose; they overflowed with untrust.  

But both of your eyes were both filled to the brim with love, not understanding how the person they vowed to love and to treasure for the rest of their lives, could hurt the other so viciously and carelessly.

“He––I’m your wife, Shawn,” you choked on a sob, “I’m your wife and you’re not listening to me!”

“You haven’t said anything!” His eyes were red as he cried right back at you.

“How am I supposed to tell my husband that another man made me feel uncomfortable when he’s accusing me of sleeping with them?!”

Shawn looked like he had more hatred to spew planned out in his head, but once the truth to your story came out, he was at a loss for words.  His shoulders dropped as fast as his face and an audible noise escaped his throat.  

A new wave of tears threatened to spill over as he looked at you, “That’s––What did––What?”

You bit your bottom lip, nodding your head as your eyes refocused on the lack of his wedding band on his finger.  You toyed with the diamond of your engagement ring, “But apparently I had an affair.”

Since the first time he had come back, Shawn was silent.  He was as silent as the moment he walked through the door and said words that shattered your world; we need to talk.  

He was as silent as the day of your wedding, speechless as you walked down the aisle more than ready to spend the rest of your life with him; I love you, he had said through tears, I’ll love you with all my heart until my last breath.

And as you stood in front of him, at a loss of words for yourself, you still wanted him to love you even after accusing you of the most heinous act in a marriage.

Another pregnant pause; your teeth clattered together as you failed to hold back your cries while Shawn’s fists shook at his sides.

Wordlessly, you brushed past him and picked your phone off the counter rushing to the door.  You threw on your converse, only having time to tuck the laces under the tongue, not wanting to spend anymore time in Shawn’s presence.  It felt as if the walls of your marriage was collapsing -––Your lungs were collapsing as you felt sobs blocking your airway––And with each step you took further away from Shawn, you felt your world crumble a little bit more.

You plucked a random jacket from the coat rack and before you even registered Shawn trying to call out your name, you slammed the door shut.  You dug your hands deep in the pockets as the brisk Toronto air hit your face.

Your rings were burning a hole into your skin.

A twenty minute walk on the streets of Toronto would normally relax you, but normally your hand would be hooked around Shawn’s arm as the two of you laughed on your way to a restaurant.  The streets were tainted with memories of him as you rounded the corner of a familiar street.

“Y/n?”

You sniffled as you spoke into the callbox, “Hey–Jessie? Can––Could you buzz me–me–In?”

The sound of the door unlocking brought more comfort to you than your husband had in the past month.

Not being able to stand still in an elevator by yourself, you opted to walk up six flights of stairs.  You had spent countless days at Jessie’s apartment whenever Shawn was away on tour; from when you first started seeing each other, toward the end of his Illuminate Tour, you had spent countless nights sleeping over at her cozy Toronto apartment.  The two of you would stay up late with ice-cream as you scoured every update account to get a glimpse of the boy who would text you after every show saying how he wished you were with him.

You knocked once on the door before it swung open to show a confused Jessie in a bathrobe and facemask, she tilted her head, “Lover’s quarrel?”

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth, but no amount of muffling could cover up the sound of your uncontrollable cries of grief.  Jessie’s eyes widened as she ushered you into her apartment and quickly shut the door as you fell into her arms before she turned the lock of the deadbolt with a soft click.

You stood in the entryway of her apartment, staining your best friend’s shirt with tears, as you gripped onto the back of her shirt for dear life.  Because the lifeline you normally had in your husband was thrown overboard.

Forming a coherent sentence was impossible with the sobs that tore through your chest.  You tried your hardest to say that; no, this wasn’t just a lover’s quarrel, it was something bigger.  It was something bigger than Jessie realized until she was able to decode a sentence that you kept repeating out loud until it became as familiar to you as a prayer.

He doesn’t want to be married to me anymore.

///

A few days had passed since you hastily made an exit from your apartment.  You thought the sinking feeling would leave once you were away from your husband’s presence, but instead, your heart only ached more.

Shawn didn’t have much time left in Canada before he had to head back on the road, and it caused your chest to tighten up every time you thought of him leaving you again.

But why did it matter; you thought to yourself as you were wrapped up in a blanket, knees tucked up to your chest as you leaned on the far side on Jessie’s couch.  Your hands cradled the lukewarm tea, it being the only thing that gave you warmth, he doesn’t want to be married to me anymore.

You’ve only moved from your position on the couch to go walk to the bathroom, your socks gliding on the hardwood floor because you didn’t have the energy to pick up your feet.  

It was lunch time, and just like all other three meals throughout the day, Jessie brought over the meal she prepared you and softly placed it on the coffee table with a meek smile and somber eyes, “Tomato soup.”

You nodded your head and glanced at the soup in the yellow bowl.  You took another sip of your tea.

“Y/n,” Jessie breathed out your name, trying to get your attention, as she knelt down in front of you.  But you continued to stare past her shoulder, eyes focusing on the window as the pitter patter of rain softly hit the glass

She repeated your name once more, a comforting hand on your knee, but you slowly shook your head with a wobble of your chin.  The only time you had spoken to Jessie was when you first arrived at her place and fell into her arms as you sobbed about your ruined marriage.

You were silent, just like Shawn’s communication with you since you fled your home.  

He came home without wearing his wedding ring.

Your hands tighten around your mug, tea now cold, as you bit the inside of your cheek until you tasted something metallic.  You had no verbal answer for her, just a shake of your head as you held your breath, trying to rid yourself of the lump in your throat.

The all too familiar sting behind your eyes crept back like an old friend.  You shut your eyes tight as you gasped out for a breath.

“He’s going to divorce me, Jess.”

Her hand on your knee fell limp as you brought a hand up to cover the choked sob that escaped past your lips, “I love him so much and he’s gonna divorce––”

“He would never do that to you,” Jessie’s voice was confident, something you hadn’t felt about yourself, or your marriage, in months, “He wouldn’t even dream of that.”

You removed your hand from your mouth, a gut wrenching sob shattering through your chest as you tried to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling, “You didn’t see him––The––The things he said to me,” Jessie took the mug form your hands as you wrapped your arms around your bent legs, tucking your head into your knees, “I’m so scared.”

It was a whisper, but the despair in your voice was not lost on your best friend.  

“I––” Jessie didn’t know how she felt.  She knew she felt her own heart breaking for her best friend––for Shawn as well––because she had been there with them since the start of their relationship.  She was the one who introduced you two. But she also felt anger, a betrayal, deep within her bones that made her blood boil, “––I need to pick up groceries.”

Jessie didn’t want to leave her best friend, but she wanted to pay a visit to the man who broke his promise––to cherish you forever––to her best friend.

She reluctantly stood up, staring down at you with tears in her own eyes, as you kept your head buried between your knees and the blanket.  She knelt down to press a featherlight kiss to the top of your head, whispering, “get some rest.”

She didn’t know if you would listen to her, but she noticed the exhaustion behind the heartbreak in your eyes.  And with a slight nod, you agreed that you needed sleep, readjusted your position on the couch and tried to keep your eyes shut tight so as to not let any more tears stain the blanket.

Once Jessie was positive you were asleep, she slipped on her sneakers and left her place without a jacket.  She needed the cold Canadian air to cool down the heat she felt in her body for being so angry.

The twenty minutes it would normally take her to walk to your apartment took her only thirteen minutes.  Jessie breezed through the lobby, impatiently tapped her foot as she rode the elevator up, and harshly knocked on the door until it was opened by a wide eye Shawn.

“Y/n?” Shawn asked desperately before he even registered who was at the door.

Jessie rolled her eyes and pushed past him, “Do you think she would knock on her own door?”  She scoffed as she looked around the apartment; pillows thrown astray, dishes piled up in the sink, and ruffled blankets on the couch telling her that he hasn’t been sleeping in their bed, “What the hell is your problem?!”

Shawn didn’t register her question as he continued to stare out the door, looking up and down the hallway.  Jessie knew exactly who he was waiting for, and with a sigh, she softened her voice, “She’s not with me.”

His head whipped back to Jessie as if he forgot she was there, “She––Are you––Has she been staying with you?”

All the anger came flooding back into her system as she narrowed her eyes at his question, “You would know if you tried calling her.”

He slowly closed the door and leaned up against it with a defeated sigh, “I knew she didn’t want to hear from me––”

“Are you kidding?” Jessie clenched her fists at her sides in anger, “You were the only person she wanted to hear from.”  

Shawn closed his eyes and rubbed the corners of them, not knowing what to say in response.  Jessie knew she didn’t have to tell him how terrible he acted toward his wife, she could see it with every defeated slump of his shoulders, the way their usually neat apartment was a mess, and his bloodshot eyes.

“How is she?”

Jessie rolled her eyes again, ignoring his question because she knew that he already knew the answer to it, “You have some nerve coming home to her without your ring.”

Shawn’s melancholy composure dropped and she saw his eyes narrow in irritation, “How else was I supposed to react?”  He let out a bitter laugh, “A whole magazine spread came out showing my wife with another man––”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Jessie walked up to him and poked his chest hard, “What happened to you always telling her not to believe everything she read in the papers about you? Every time you were seen with a different girl, every rumor of ‘sparks flying’ after you sang a duet with a different girl––What about everything she had to put up with with you?””

“That’s different because she knew those weren’t true––”

“So what about this?!” Jessie blew up and threw her hands in the air, “This is no different.  This is the first time she’s been caught up in something like this.”

“She was jumpy the last time I spoke to her on the phone!” Shawn defended himself, “She sounded like she didn’t want me to come home and after I saw those pictures,” Shawn swallowed as he looked down at the floor.  He felt his stomach drop as if he remembered the moment his mother texted him a link to the article.

“Everything just made sense,” Shawn whispered as he shook his head.

There was silence between the two of them for a moment before Jessie spat out, “That’s a weak excuse,” and Shawn raised his head up, eyebrows pulled together, “Did you forget what’s written on the inside of your ring?”

Shawn looked down in shame and shook his head.  He knew exactly what was written on the inside of his ring––with your handwriting––and the same thing was written on the inside of your ring; with his handwriting.

With all my heart.

Out of habit, Shawn brought his fingers to touch his ring finger.  But unlike all the other times the tips of his fingers would softly brush against the ring finger on his left hand in remembrance to you, he didn’t feel the cool metal of his ring.  Just his bare finger.

“How could you?” Jessie’s voice was barely above a whisper.  Shawn wasn’t her husband, so she couldn’t even comprehend the amount of betrayal you felt, but with being his friend since he was thirteen, she was at a loss of words, “For as long as I’ve known you…I’ve never been more disappointed in you in my life.”

Shawn ran a hand through his hair, “Jess––“

Jessie shook her head, “She always let you explain yourself––Most times she didn’t even think twice if you were out with someone else––Because she trusted you.”  Shawn nodded solemnly, “But you didn’t give her the same respect.”

“I know.”

Without sparing his feelings, because Jessie didn’t think he deserved any sympathy, she said words that knew would cut Shawn to his core, “She thinks you’re going to divorce her.”

His mouth dropped, all expressions of guilt left his face, as he stared at his friend.  He didn’t even know what he was feeling.  All he knew was that he swore his heart stopped beating and that the ringing in his ears was becoming relentless.

“She––Why would––That never––“ his hands started shaking, as he felt his eyes well up with tears, because he never wanted to picture his life without you.  His voice cracked, “Divorce?”

With a sharp nod, Jessie crossed her arms over her chest, “Well, when your husband comes home without his wedding ring on, what other conclusion is she going to come to?”

Shawn shook his head, “That wasn’t my––“

“You took your ring off,” Jessie’s eyes looked at his ring finger, noticing a sliver of his finger a share lighter than the rest of his skin tone, “I’m not married, but I know you’re not supposed to do that if you love your spouse.”

“I do love her,” Shawn spoke angrily.

Jessie tapped her foot, “I’m not leaving until you put your ring back on.”  She watched as he dug his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and pulled out a golden band.  She smiled as Shawn slipped it back into place, “You two need to talk,” she said as if it was the easiest thing in the world, “You need to listen to her because there’s more to those pictures.”

Shawn nodded his head, like he was a kid listening to his mom telling him to clean his room.  He knew they needed to talk, he knew that he messed up, but he was also terrified of what you were going to say to him.  He had never thought of divorcing you, but if the thought was swirling around in your mind…Would you want to divorce him?

“I have to run some errands,” Jessie smiled at the ring that was back in its place on his finger, “I’ll be gone for about an hour–––“

Before Jessie could finish her sentence, Shawn turned around on his heel, running to the front door to fling it open.  She heard his footsteps race down the hall and smiled to herself even more.  

Shawn was lucky that she knew where their spare key was hidden so she could lock up behind her.

///

You knew Jessie waited until she thought you were asleep to leave to pick up groceries.  So you tried your hardest to fake your rest, and when you heard the door softly close behind her, you opened your eyes and continued to stare out the window.  You didn’t have a lot of motivation, sometimes just thinking was too much energy, so you only tried to focus on the sounds of rain hitting the window and the low rumble of thunder you heard.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that for, but you started to get thirsty, and without Jessie here to refill your tea, you had no choice but to make yourself a cup.  Begrudgingly, you sat up, keeping the blanket wrapped around you like a cape, and made your way into the kitchen.  Filling the tea kettle up with water, you placed it on the stove.  Picking at the hangnails on your fingers, you lifted your head up when heard the door abruptly open.

Even if it had been Jessie returning with groceries, you still would have stayed mute upon her re-entry, and when your eyes landed on the person you least expected to see, you still stayed quiet.

He was out of breath, cheeks flushed red as his chest heaved, but you didn’t say a word to him.  You only listened to the low rumble of water boiling in the tea kettle.

He didn’t say anything either.  He was trying to communicate with his eyes; wide and hopeful that you would forgive him for being an idiot.  But you stared at him with a blank expression.

“Did you run here?”

Shawn nodded as he exhaled, “I––Jessie said you were here.”

You quirked an eyebrow, and pulled the blanket tighter around your body.  Not saying anything in response, you diverted your eyes down to the white kettle.

As you stood in the kitchen with your husband, you had never felt more uncomfortable in your life.  You never thought there would be a time you didn’t feel comfortable in his presence, just seeing him through FaceTime would be enough to make you smile; but as you stood in front of him for the first time since you saw him without his ring, you didn’t want to see him.

Your eyes were focused hard on the kettle, channeling all of your anger to the boiling water, “Thought the next time I would hear from you was going to be with Brian serving me divorce papers.”

It was a low blow, and you heard the sharp intake of breath from him, but you didn’t care.  He made you feel like hell for the past month of him ignoring you and then blowing up in your face, not giving yourself a chance to explain your situation to him.

“I would never––You know I would never do that.”

“Do I?” You bit your bottom lip, “I never thought you’d take off your ring.”

That cut Shawn off from saying whatever he planned because you had a point.  He never thought he would take off his ring, but he did.  He took it off, and at the time, he didn’t understand the consequences that would come with it when he returned to you.  He thought he knew everything by just looking at those pictures.  He thought the marriage was over before he stepped foot back into your home.

Hastily, Shawn lifted his left hand, the gold ring was dull under the kitchen lights, “I put–––“ he stopped talking when he saw you lightly touch the kettle with your left hand.  You only brought your hand out of the blanket for half a second, but that half a second was more than enough time for him to realize what the worst sight in the world was, “Your––You took off your rings.”

You retracted your hand back into the blanket and glared at him, “I wasn’t the first.”

“That’s not fair,” Shawn’s words were cold, “There was proof that you could’ve been––”

“Could’ve been what?” You reached up into the cabinet to grab a tea bag, “Cheating on you? Unfaithful? In a relationship with another man––”

“Stop!” He yelled as he pressed his palms against his head, eyes shut tight.  He’d been tortured with the thought of you being with someone else while he was away, he didn’t want to imagine it even more, “Jessie told me that it wasn’t fair to not let you––”

“Oh, so you listened to her and not me?” You shot back at him, forgetting about your tea. “Should I be worried about that?  Hm?  You and Jessie––”

“Now you’re just being over dramatic,” Shawn rolled his eyes.

You felt the anger bubble up in the pit of your stomach like the tea that started to lowly whistle, “No,” you raised your voice to match his, “being over dramatic was taking off your fucking ring––”

“I put it back on!” Shawn yelled as he held up his hand again, pointing to the ring on his finger, “I put it back on for you––”

“That’s rich,” you laughed out, “Because if you hadn’t dodged my calls you wouldn’t have taken it off in the first place.”

He clenched his jaw, “Well, if you didn’t sound like you didn’t want me to come home we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“If I…” Your voice cracked as you thought back to all the times Ethan made advances on you, where he made you feel uncomfortable, and it was as if you were transported to your last lesson.

With a deep breath, all anger you felt towards your husband disappeared.  You were now more sad than anything else.  Sad that he wasn’t taking time to listen about how those pictures came about.

You repeated yourself with a sniffle, “If I…” you had to pause again, feeling your throat close up because if he wasn’t taking the time to listen for the second time around, would he ever listen to anything?  

“I didn’t know how to tell you about him––How––How uncomfortable he made me feel––”

The rigidness behind his voice cut you off, “I’m your husband, you can come to me with anything, and if he made you uncomfortable, why didn’t you just change instructors?”

“Why didn’t I––What?” The shakiness of your voice was covered up by the tea kettle that was now whistling out of control, “Change instructors––He––Do you even care what he did?”

“That’s not the––”

You brought your left hand up to cover your mouth, you had cried too many times in front of him and you were tired of him not listening to you, “Leave.”

Shawn shook his head, “Y/n, I’m not leaving––”

You felt your chin wobble as you shook your head, vision starting to cloud from the build up of tears in your eyes, “Go––I––I want you to leave.”

He took a step forward, reaching a hand out to comfort you, but the last thing you wanted was for him to comfort you.  

Noticing you recoiling from his touch, he reached over to turn the stove off and poured the hot water into the mug, “I don’t––I’m not home for much longer,” his voice was desperate as he set the kettle back down on the stove top, “I’m home for three more days––Don’t––Please come home.”

You shook your head, “I don’t––You––Leave.”

He stood firmly in place, “Not without you––”

“Go!” You shouted through your tears as you pointed at the door, “I can’t be around you-–you.”  Shawn continued to shake his head, his eyes filling up with tears as you pleaded with him to leave you alone.  

Your next words were cruel, you were taking advantage of how scared he was to lose you, but that didn’t matter to you.  All you wanted was to be alone.

“If you don’t leave now,” your voice had softened but the edge was still there as tears continued to run down your face, “I don’t know what that’ll mean for our marriage.”

He didn’t move an inch, challenging your words, but you kept eye contact with him.  You wanted him to know that you were serious––serious about how him not leaving would be detrimental to your marriage––But in all honesty, you were bluffing.  You didn’t want your marriage to end as much as he didn’t.  But right now…You couldn’t be in the same room as the man you married.

His eyes were wide, not believing the ultimatum you gave him, but he didn’t want to lose you forever.  He took a step toward you, but when you shut your eyes at his movement, his heart broke and he knew the best thing to do was give you what you wanted.  And that was space.  

Your eyes stayed shut as you heard his footsteps grow further away.  You finally opened your eyes when you heard the door close.  Even with how you continuously cried for days, your eyes were not out of tears.

 You felt a new wave of sobs take over your body as you sat on the kitchen floor crying your eyes out with your tea abandoned on the counter.

///

You didn’t go back home and Shawn left for tour again.  

He would be gone for two months until he got the chance to return home to Canada.  It might’ve been selfish of you to ignore his plea for you to return home to him, it would no doubt cause him more stress than usual on tour, but for your sanity you knew returning home would only cause another argument.

You stayed with Jessie for a week longer before coming to the conclusion that you needed to return home.  While your home wouldn’t be complete until Shawn returned, you needed to be back in that space.

Walking into the home for the first time in a few weeks was strange.  It was eerily quiet, but everything looked in place, if not more clean than what you were used to.  Jessie told you that she had seen dishes stacked up in the sink among other things thrown around, so you were glad Shawn had the decency to clean up before he left.

Standing in the doorway, you looked at the bay window you sat in when Shawn returned home that afternoon.  And like a movie, it was as if you could see the whole fight play out; Shawn throwing the tabloid at your feet and then screaming at one another.  The vile words he said to you still hurt to think about, so you looked away from the window that made you fall in love with the apartment.

You slowly walked further into the apartment and everything you saw held a memory.  In the kitchen you saw Shawn trying to distract you from cooking as he did a terrible dance.  In the living room, you saw the couch and thought about the countless times you’d fallen asleep on each other in the middle of a movie.  And in the corner, where there was a little bookshelf and chairs to relax in, you saw yourself reading a book as Shawn sat in the chair opposite of you, trying to perfect a song’s chorus.

Everything coming back in waves was too much, but only a few tears leaked from your eyes.  Most of the memories that came back to you were happy.  They were full of laughter and smiles––Just like how your marriage had been.  They always say how the first fight is the worst, but you didn’t think it could get any worse than this.

Finding yourself in your bedroom, you flicked the lights on, and immediately changed into sweatpants and one of Shawn's shirts.  Part of you wished you returned home before he left, but you knew you weren’t emotionally ready for that.  So you opted for one of his t-shirts to bring you his comfort as he was halfway across the world from you.

You peeled back the covers on his side of the bed, slowly getting under, and bringing the sheets up to your chin.  You buried your head into his pillow and that’s when you lost it.  What if by being selfish and not coming home you had wrecked your marriage? You were both angry, but Shawn took a lot of things to heart, and there was no doubt you knew he felt absolutely crushed that you didn’t return home.

As if he knew you were thinking of him, your phone rang, and you saw the ridiculous selfie he took on your phone when he was nineteen.  You wanted to swipe and answer the call.  You wanted to hear his voice.  But you were scared that he would actually confirm your worst fears and say that your marriage was over.

You screened the call, and right when you were about to put your phone down and cry into his pillow more, his contact picture lit up your screen again.

With a shaky breath, you tried your best to push all your fears down as you answered the call, “Sh––Shawn?”

“Y/n,” he breathed out your name with a sigh of relief, “I––I’m so glad you picked up.”

You nodded your head against the pillow and whimpered, “I––Yeah––I––Sh––Shawn––I––”

“Please don’t leave me,” he shakily breathed out the sentence in one breath, “I don’t know––I––” You could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m such an asshole and this––You––I love you and I can’t––” You heard an ugly sob from the other end of the phone as he whispered out the best he could, “Please––please don’t leave me.”

You felt all of your fears disappear as you let out a little cry of relief, “I love you too.”

“We––We can talk––You can talk,” he corrected himself and it caused you to laugh a little, “When I get home?”

You nodded your head and for the first time, in a long time, you smiled, “I’ll be waiting.”

///

Nearly two months later, you were making yourself a cup of tea as you awaited Shawn’s arrival.  Even though the two of you talked almost every night, conversation was still strained with how you last saw each other; you shouting at him to leave threatening that your marriage could be over if he didn’t.  It was a heavy note to leave off on, but the two of you brushed it under the rug as you would recount what you did during your day and he told you about the show he had performed.

You were nervous––more nervous than you were on your first date with him––but you tried to push those feelings away.  He was your husband.  You both loved each other endlessly.  And it did ease your anxiety a bit knowing that your marriage wasn’t going to end after this conversation.

The sound of a key unlocking your door caused your heart rate to spike as you threw away your tea bag.  He was home and it was time to really talk.

Much like the ill fated day he came home without his ring, he rolled in a small carry-on suitcase and had a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.  The first thing your eyes went to was his left hand, and even though you had seen it in every picture of him performing on stage, it still brought a smile to your face seeing it on his hand.  While his left sock was raised higher than the right sock, and his t-shirt was still wrinkled, you noticed his hair was a little shorter.

“Did you get a haircut?”

Shawn dropped his duffle bag with a smile as he rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen, “Do you like it?”  

You nodded your head with a smile as you passed him a freshly made cup of tea as your hands circled your own cup, “Your curls look more tame.”

Shawn laughed into his tea before he took a sip and placed the mug down.  He exhaled a deep breath, tapping his fingers on the sides of the mug like he was playing piano, and gave you a worrisome look, “Can I––Can I hug you?”

Your shoulders dropped at how uncertain he sounded.  But then again, it had been months since you last touched him.  The last time you touched him was before he left for tour the first time; before he took off his ring.

“Yeah,” you croaked out with a nod.

Within a matter of seconds, Shawn’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, hugging you like it was one of his last moments on Earth.  You circled your arms around his waist and your body was immediately flooded with the warmth of his chest.  It had been so long since you had any form of physical contact with him that you almost forgot what a simple hug felt like.

And it was something you never wanted to go months without again.

Shawn pressed a kiss to the top of your head, which made you feel giddy on the inside, before he slightly pulled away, “I––I won’t say a thing,” he whispered as he rubbed his hands up and down your back, “But I think we need to talk.”

The giddiness you felt dissipated and your insides now felt queasy.  You wanted to forget that the past few months had happened.  You tried your best to block it from your memory, but Shawn was right, you needed to talk in order to move forward in your marriage.

So you talked and Shawn didn’t utter a single word.  You explained how Jessie thought cooking lessons would be a good idea to distract you from missing Shawn, how the advances Ethan first made were a joke here and there, but then he started paying more attention to you.  He became hyperfixtated on the way you cut vegetables and how––If you change this and follow me, he would say before lightly touching you and directing your hand movements, you’ll have what you need––trying to add a double meaning to his words.

You could see Shawn’s jaw clench a few times as his knuckles would turn white from how tight he was holding the mug.  While you knew he didn’t like what he was hearing, you were appreciative that he was listening instead of arguing with you like the last time.

“And um––Yeah––So That’s––Yeah.”  You rambled off as you went to touch your wrist that Ethan harshly grabbed a few months ago.  And even though the grease burns on your back were healed, you still felt the itch of them as if they happened yesterday.

After a brief moment of silence, Shawn closed his eyes and let an aggravated breath out through his nostrils, “He…He touched you.”

You nodded your head as you took a sip of your tea, wanting to delay any sort of response for as long as you could, “Yeah,” But with his eyes staring into yours, you knew he wasn’t going to let you skip over any detail, “Those, um––That picture in the magazine…That’s when the grease spilled on my back.”

Shawn rubbed his hands over his eyes, he was no doubt exhausted from traveling, and it probably didn’t do him any good hearing this story, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

What was different than before the times you tried to talk to him about this, his voice wasn’t accusatory;  It was careful.  Careful in the sense that he didn’t want you to think he was upset with you.  Because the situation wasn’t your fault and he knew that.  

“You’re already so stressed with your job,” you looked down into your empty mug, “I didn’t want to add any stress.”

Shawn reached his hand across the counter and unwrapped one of your hands from your mug.  He laced your fingers together and held your hand tightly, “I’m your husband,” he weakly smiled at you, “The music, touring, writing––None of that is a real job––My my job to worry about you.”

While he sounded a bit defeated, you knew that he meant well.  You knew that he was only upset with himself because you were scared to go to him with something that made you uncomfortable.  He always wanted to be your person to go to whenever you felt yourself in a weird situation, and in this instance, he thought that he failed at that part of being your husband.

So you squeezed his hand back in reassurance, “I know you’re not going to forget about this,” he raised an eyebrow at you because you knew he was never going to forget this disastrous fight or forget about what Ethan did to you, “But for now, can we forget about it and take a nap?”

With a shake of his head, he let out a chuckle, “You’re right that I’m not going to forget about this,” he said as he lifted your connected hands over your mug as he pulled you out of the kitchen and down to your bedroom, “But a nap sounds fantastic.”

And for the first time in months, you walked to your bedroom with a lovesick smile on your face, trailing behind the man you fell in love with more every day you shared together.

///

FOUR MONTHS LATER

“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” You laughed as you tightened your hold around Shawn’s arm, “This isn’t fair!”

“It’s a surprise,” he smirked as he continued to lead the way down the streets of Toronto.  

It was a peaceful day in the capital city of Ontario.  The sun was shining, birds chirping, and you were arm-in-arm with your husband.  He had just finished the last leg of his world tour and you couldn’t be more proud of everything he accomplished.  Luckily enough, you were able to join him on tour for the last two months, and spent your first wedding anniversary in Napa, California the day before his show in Sacramento.

It was definitely an ideal way to spend your first year married to Shawn––drinking wine––And everyone congratulated you on getting through what was dubbed to be the “hardest” year of marriage.  That was the understatement of the century. And both you and Shawn would always brush off everyone joking about it because they didn’t know how hard of a year it really was.  

The whole debacle with the tabloid magazine was mostly swept under the rug, and you just told your families and the people on Shawn’s team he was closest to, that it was just a misunderstanding; A tabloid that took things way out of proportion. The only people who really knew how devastating the year had been was you, Shawn, and Jessie.

Sometimes there would be a thought in the back of your head about how detrimental another fight like that could be to your marriage.  But you always tried to shut those thoughts down as soon as possible and just focus on the good things in your life.  And right now, that was Shawn leading you to a surprise location, because he thought the two of you needed another anniversary celebration.  

“I––I’ll…” Your voice trailed off as you walked down the familiar strip of shops, “After you’ve fallen asleep, I’ll take your socks off.”

Shawn threw his head back in laughter at your poor attempt to get him to spill the surprise, “Impossible because you always fall asleep before me.”

“Fair,” you let out a sigh, “I still think it’s weird you sleep with socks on.”

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that.”

“It’s just,” you squeezed his bicep, at a loss of words, “infuriating.”

Shawn smiled brightly down at you before quickly pressing a kiss to your cheek, “But you still married me.”

With a roll of your eyes you softly hit him in the stomach, “Yeah, yeah…” But when you turned a corner, you knew why these shops were so familiar, and you almost stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, “What are we––Shawn?”

He looked back at you with a sheepish smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

“Shawn,” you hesitantly said his name again, “What're you planning?”

Again, he shrugged his shoulders, “You know how terrible I am in the kitchen,” he glanced back at the place where you took your cooking lessons when he was away on tour.  And for a moment, the playfulness dropped from his face as he seriously looked into your eyes, “If you’re not comfortable going back in there, we can always get coffee across the street.”

You mentally made a pros and cons list in your mind.  You hadn’t been in the place you received your cooking lessons since you stormed out of there.  And as far as you knew, Ethan still worked there, which made your skin crawl.  But you were with Shawn.  Shawn would be by your side the whole time.  And you were curious to see what he had up his sleeve.

“I mean…I’m fine with it,” your voice wavered.  He raised his eyebrows, silently asking you if you were actually fine to go back in there, because he didn’t want to push you with something you weren’t 100-percent on.  So you cleared your throat and repeated yourself, “I’m fine going in, but…I think he’s supposed to be teaching today?”

A wicked smile spread across Shawn’s face, “Three o’clock couple’s cooking class with Ethan Anguis.”

Your mouth dropped and you couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh, “You did not.”

Shawn smirked, “I do believe we have to check-in in ten minutes before we lose my deposit.”

You shook your head because you could not believe how ridiculous your husband was, “Lead the way.”

With a gleam of mischief in his eyes, he smiled as he bent over with his arm stretched out as he opened the door for you.  You let out another laugh as he followed you into the familiar classroom.  You were standing behind a few other couple’s but once you heard his voice, your hand instinctively gripped onto Shawn’s tighter.

He looked down at you, again, silently asking you if you were comfortable with this.  You nodded, and before you knew it, you were face-to-face with the man who had caused your marriage to be hell for a few months.  

Ethan was looking down at the check-in book, not realizing you were in front of him, before Shawn cleared his throat, “Mr. and Mrs. Mendes.”

His head shot up as he ignored Shawn’s presence entirely and only had eyes for you.  You shifted closer into Shawn’s side as Ethan sent a smile your way, “Y/n, it’s nice to see you––”

“Do you always refer to your student’s by their first name?” Shawn didn’t hide the malice in his voice, he wanted Ethan to know that you were just a student. 

Ethan’s eyes darted to Shawn for a brief second, before his eyes flickered down to your hands clasped together, and you swore you saw him glaring at your hands before he tried to compose himself before answering Shawn’s question, “She––I’ve had her in class before.”

“Then you should be used to calling her Mrs. Mendes.”

Ethan’s eyes hardened at the protectiveness of Shawn’s words as he nodded his head once, “We’ll be at table six––”

Shawn stepped forward until his lower stomach was basically toppling over the weak wooden podium, “If you do anything to make her feel uncomfortable again,” his low and threatening voice sent a shiver down your spine as he insinuated what he had done in the past, “I swear you’ll never work in a restaurant in Toronto again.”

You noticed how Ethan’s jaw clenched as his face began to turn red.  You didn’t know if it was red out of embarrassment or anger, but you didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“We’ll be at table six,” you said as you dragged Shawn by the hand.

You made it to your table and you couldn’t help but smile up at Shawn who had a proud smirk on his face, “What are you doing?”

The two of you sat down on the barstools as you waited for everyone else to get checked in.  Shawn moved his stool closer to yours so that you could sit side-by-side, thighs touching, as he threw an arm over your shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, “Just tryna cause a little trouble.”

You rolled your eyes as you rested your head on his shoulder, “I love you.”

Shawn smiled brightly down, “And I love you,” his attention was briefly pulled away when Ethan called out that the lesson would be beginning shortly.  When he returned his gaze back down to you, he smiled softly, noticing that your eyes had never left him, “With all my heart.”

taglist: @fallinallincurls @alina--jpeg @adelaidestreets @5-seconds-of-mendes @particularnarry @now-that-i-saw-u @turtoix​ @shawnsmutal @vinylmendes @mendesficsxbombay @lights-on-mendes @illuminatepotter @shawnmendez @thatkidwhodreams 

[kaori-flowers]

The end of Tommy. Idk if it's sad, im not good at writing sad I don't think but uhhhhh yeah I hope you enjoy? Idk. Sorry ;-;

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Wilbur watched from a distance as Tommy walked up the hill towards his tent. He dumped his bag of wood out near the small fire pit he made and groaned. His arms and legs were tired so he walked into his tent and flopped on his bed. A sharp object jabbed him in the side and made him sit up quickly as he hissed in pain. He pulled the object out from under him and looked at to find it was a book he'd never seen before. He sighed and opened it as he laid back on the bed, reading it in his head. He got through a few sentences before sitting up quickly, reading it more seriously now. After he finished the page he buried the book under his bed quickly. Then he left the tent and looked around slowly, scanning for Wilbur. Wilbur stood up on the hill in the distance and Tommy glanced at his necklace. He pulled it off and looked at the black and red coloring with the carved words in it. He growled and stomped down to the beach, stopping at the edge of the water. He threw it as hard as he could, hurting his arm, into the ocean.

"Tommy!"

Wilbur was finally able to get close to Tommy without being in immense pain. He hugged Tommy as soon as he was close enough, almost knocking him down. Tommy hugged him back, gripping his shirt tightly and almost crying.

"I thought you were mad at me! You just disappeared!"

"No, never. You're my little brother and I love you."

Tommy calmed himself down, managing to hold back his tears. He took a deep breath and sighed, relaxing a little. He let go of Wilbur and took another deep breath, letting it out slowly. Wilbur gently kissed Tommy's forehead and looked him all over, making sure he was okay. He was for the most part. Tommy sighed and relaxed, pushing Wilbur back a little.

"Okay, I have a plan. So go away."

"What? But i-"

"Trust me Wilbur. Go away. Please, I have a plan."

Wilbur hesitated, not wanting to be separated from Tommy for long again. He trusted his little brother though, and followed his instructions. Tommy took a deep breath and walked over to the small forest area by his tent. He smeared mud on his clothes, and ripped them open. Then he picked up sticks off the ground and scratched himself with them. Then he broke them and tossed them close by, before lying down on the forest floor. Wilbur watched from afar, worried, and wondering what he was doing. Tommy moved in a slightly weird position and closed his eyes, relaxing his body. Attempting to look unconsciously normal. He waited and waited. Tommy felt like each minute that passed was an hour. He dislikes laying there in that position and was almost ready to give up.

"If you're hiding from me to try and scare me it's not gonna work Tommy."

Dream's voice gave him home and he remained still, as the sound of gravel and leaves crunching got louder. Tommy purposely groaned loudly, and sat up which gained Dream's attention. Dream rushed over to Tommy and dropped his axe, looking him over as if he actually cared.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I don't know, i fell out of the tree and- wait.... where's? Where's my necklace?"

Tommy looked around as if he was actually concerned on where it was. He stood up and fake stumbled a little, and looked around quicker. Dream grabbed Tommy's arm and held it tightly to prevent him from moving away.

"It's fine. It's okay, I'll just make you a new one."

Dream sighed, but wasn't actually bothered that he lost the necklace. It meant nothing to Dream, it was just something he made to keep Wilbur away from Tommy. He could simply make another that does the same affect to Wilbur. Dream doesn't care, the necklace is not even close to important to him.

"No it's not! First I lose tubbo, my best friend! Then I lose my compass that Wilbur made for me. Now he won't come near me and won't even talk to me. Now I lost your necklace that you made for me. All I do is lose things!"

Tommy let himself fall on his knees and he quickly pushed himself to cry. It wasn't hard for Tommy to make himself cry since he was full of sadness ever since he left. He was constantly on the brink of crying and even taught himself how to turn it on and off. Like a light switch. Dream didn't know that though and it was the first time the ever seen Tommy cry. It made him feel weird and uncomfortable, especially since he's never seen it before.

"Tommy, it's okay I promise. Come on we can look for it together. Where were you last at?"

Tommy stopped crying but his face and eyes were red from it. He wiped the tears off his face and stood up off the ground. Tommy looked around slowly before shrugging and making Dream sigh. Dream looked up at the trees, scanning the branches for anything shiny. Dream was sure they wouldn't find it, and just planned to make another one later. Tommy and Dream walked around the small forest together, checking the ground and trees.

"Here you can play with this while we look for it. Just don't hurt yourself with it."

Dream handed Tommy the netherite axe that he had worked so hard to get. Tommy smiled as he let tears slide down his cheeks and swung it around. Dream looked at him and mentally scoffed at the sight of him. Dream still seen Tommy as a child that didn't understand anything, and wasn't smart enough to figure things out. Which wasn't entirely wrong, but Tommy was gon a crush Dream now that he knew. His plan was already in motion and he wasn't gonna back down at any time. Wilbur followed along in the distance, curious about what was gonna happen.

"Let's check the Nether."

Before Dream could object Tommy was already jumping in the portal. Tommy waited for Dream on the other side and when he arrived he started walkimg again. Dream hesitated a little, knowing Tubbo was somewhere in here, but let him keep going. Wilbur waited a few minutes before going through the portal and looking around for them.

"So Tommy..... How have you been since I last seen you?"

"Alright. I gathered up enough fire wood to last me 3 days at least. Unless you burn it again.... along with my armour.... and my food...."

"Yeah....."

Dream awkwardly looked away from him for a few seconds but continued to follow him. Tommy rolled his eyes, knowing Dream couldn't see them right now. Tommy swung the axe around carelessly, making Dream tense. At any second Tommy could drop it into the lava below and it would be gone. Forever. Dream would have to take another 4 days to get or even make another one. Which was irritating because if he was busy making an axe then Tommy was unsupervised. Which meant anyone could visit Tommy when Dream wasn't around. Dream didn't want that. He didn't want Tommy to know anything besides what Dream told him.

"Hey Dream close your eyes and stop walking for a second. I have a surprise."

Dream stopped and hesitated a little but closed his eyes slowly. Tommy quickly took out his pickaxe and mined himself out of reach. He stood in the middle of the block that was floating out over the large lava pit. Wilbur tensed up and joined Dream's side, not caring about distance anymore.

"Okay open."

"Tommy what are you doing?!"

"Wilbur shut up. Deam if you make any movement towards me I'll jump."

Dream slid his foot back in place and he remained still as he watched Tommy intently. Tommy threw the pickaxe down in the lava and then Dream's axe. Dream's jaw clenched but he didnt move from the spot he was in. Tommy emptied his pockets of everything, throwing it into the lava. Across the sea of Lava Tubbo and Ranboo watched out on a small cliff. Halfway down under them was Fundy and Nikki, and above was Techno with Philza. None of them knew each other was in the nether, because they were all in 2s. They were collecting resources but stopped once they seen Tommy, glued on the situation in a large mix of emotions.

"Tommy don't do anything stupid." Dream scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"You. Lied to me."

"So what?!"

"You betrayed me! You-"

"Tubbo betrayed you!"

"BECAUSE YOU MADE HIM. He wasn't gonna exile me but YOU pushed for it. All of this is YOUR fault. All of your actions is what lead up to this Dream. This. Is on. YOU."

Tommy's words were filled with pure hatred as he spoke, glaring at Dream. It made Dream feel a little uncomfortable and even made him glance away a few times. Tommy's stare felt like daggers of fire to Dream, and he found it extremely uncomfortable.

"So what Tommy! I-"

"You hid all the invites. You lied saying Tubbo burned his compass. You don't let anyone visit me. You don't tell me ANYTHING about how the others are doing. You-"

"Tommy calm down, you're gonna get yourself hurt."

"Calm down? Pssh, yeah as if. As if you actually care Dream. You don't care about anyone. Not even your HUSBAND. You've spent more time with me than you have with him. How fucked up is that? He's your husband Dream, you're supposed to be WITH HIM."

"Tommy you are crossing the line!"

Dream took a step forward, towards him and Tommy stuck his foot out over the block. Dream growled but froze on the spot, not moving again. Tommy didn't put his foot back on the block though. Instead he balanced on one foot, making everyone hold their breath. Dream didn't want Tommy to kill himself though. He wanted Tommy to stay alive and suffer slowly. He wanted to see Tommy so broken he couldn't get out of bed, and that's when he'd kill him. In front of Tubbo so he would see what he did. But it wasn't Tubbo's fault, and Dream's plan wasn't going to happen.

"There was NO LINE. You kicked me out of my HOME, and made me lose my best friend. My BROTHER. All my family. I have no one left! I fucking hate you!"

Tommy's scream echoed through the nether, filling everyone's ears. Philza looked away, not wanting to see another son die. The first one was already hard enough, and he didn't want to see this one. Tubbo's chest hurt horribly and he felt like tears were going to burst out of his eyes any second. Nikki always seen Tommy as little brother as well so she was worried for his safety. Fundy was annoyed and upset because what Tommy said was the truth. Dream had been spending so much time with Tommy and not him. And they were married. Technoblade felt wrong, and bad that he didn't provide help to Tommy when he clearly could have. Instead he just laughed at him and left him with barley anything.

"Tommy... Did you really have anyone to begin with? Wilbur is dead. Your so called father and older brother MOVED ON. And your so called best friend? He moved on as well. He's president Tommy. You have no one because you are no one."

Dream didn't believe that Tommy would actually jump and kill himself. So he decided to say it out he seen it, hitting him hard as he was already down. Although Tommy had already made up his mind, and as much as he was scared he wasn't backing down. He had no where else to go and Dream was right for the most part. Tommy actually had no one except Wilbur now, and so why not join him?

"And who do you have? Punz? Sapnap? George? You're as much as a no one as I am."

Tommy scoffed, rolling his eyes at Dream. His cheeks glistened as his tears slid down them and dripped onto his clothes. Tommy took a deep breath to calm himself and then let it out slowly. He looked at Wilbur and sighed slowly, relaxing a little. He was ready. He was embracing his fate.

"Wilbur."

"Tommy."

"Take care of Tubbo for me."

"Wha-"

Tommy fell backwards, off the block as he closed eyes slowly. Dream's eyes widened at the fact that he actually did it. Tommy actually jumped. Well.... Technically Tommy just fell back off the block, accepting his fate. He put his arms out and kept his eyes closed enjoying the soft wind feeling. Which only lasted a few seconds.

"TOMMY NO!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"TOMMY!"

"NO TOMMY!"

"TOMMMMMMMMMMYYYYY!!"

The nether was quickly filled with screams as Tommy plummeted down towards the large lava ocean. There was absolutely nothing anyone could do for him. As soon as Tommy hit the lava ocean he was engulfed in flames, and dragged under as if he was a cinder block. Tommy felt a string of pain for a few seconds then he felt nothing. Tubbo had tears streaming down his face as did Nikki. Dream was frozen in place and Technoblade held a blank face. Despite Techno's blank face his insides felt like they were being crushed with a truck. The nether got extremly silent except for the Ghasts and the constant cracking of the lava. Without saying a word Technoblade pulled a flower from his pocket, and threw it in the lava ocean. Phil took a shaky breath, knowing by the pervious screams that he only had 2 sons left.

[vxlkyrie]

letters to you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers!au

warning: cursing, mentions of alcohol

word count: 7.0k

summary: uh oh, spencer wasn’t supposed to see those

a/n: maeve didn’t die nor have a stalker and we stan her and anderson in this household. also i broke my own heart writing this :) enjoy! (also i hate that some of the text isn’t italicized on mobile i want to cry)

“hey y/n, whatchu writing in your diary?” derek smirked as walked through the office.

“none of your business. and it’s not a diary, it’s a journal.” you rolled your eyes as you continued writing.

“and what do you write in your so-called journal?”

“whatever i want. usually thoughts i have when i’m finished with a case.” you shrugged.

“so basically a diary,” he laughed, leaning on your desk. “can i see what you’ve been writing?” he tried to lean over your notebook. your eyes widened.

“no!” you shouted as you slammed your notebook shut, making derek jump up a little. “s-sorry morgan. it’s just that it’s very personal.”

“don’t worry about it. i understand.” he smiled at you, kissing your forehead before going back to his desk.

it’s true that you use your journal to write down your feelings. you weren’t that open on talking about your feelings, so you took an unused notebook and filled up the pages with your rants, whether it was about stressing over a case or having to deal with your bitchy landlord. but you also use that journal to write down your feelings towards a certain boy genius (who actually suggested that you should write down your thoughts in a journal).

you weren’t sure when you started seeing spencer, your best friend, in a different light. maybe it was when he would bring you coffee and a muffin practically everyday. maybe it was when you started to find his fact dumps endearing. maybe it’s when he would cuddle you when you two would have movie nights together.

whatever the exact moment was that made you fall in love with him, you weren’t ready to tell him about your feelings. so, shortly after starting your notebook, you started writing down “love letters” that were addressed to him. you found yourself writing out confessions, moments where you found spencer being adorable, even dates you would have if you two were together (all the cheesy stuff).

dear spencer,

i love you – as more than just a friend.

yes, you are my best friend. you are always there for me when i need someone to get me energized when i didn’t get enough sleep the night before. you are always there for me when i need to tell someone about a shitty date. you are always there for me when i just need a hug after finishing a week-long case. and before i knew it, i found myself falling in love with you.

i wish that i can just tell you how i feel in person, but you know that i’m not that good with expressing my feelings verbally, so i decided to write them down instead. even then, this page isn’t enough to explain what i love about you and how much i love you.

love, y/n

dear spencer,

there are so many times where i just find you cute.

your eyes lighting up after you found out that doctor who is being renewed for another season. your smile after everyone complimented your new haircut. even your little dance after i bought you half a dozen of your favorite donuts.

i could go on forever and list every moment i have found you adorable. my heart starts beating faster just by the sight of seeing you be happy. i know you’ve been through a lot, and you deserve happiness. i hope that someday i can give you that.

love, y/n

dear spencer,

i might not be the most romantic person, but i can’t help but daydream about the cute and cheesy dates we would have.

we could go to the aquarium and you can tell me everything you know about every creature we see. we could visit the art museum and we could point out the small details in each piece. we could even go to the smithsonian!

but we could also go on small cafe dates. maybe go to the bookstore and you could recommend me your favorites (i’ve been trying to read more). we could even just have a night in and have dinner and cuddle while we watch true crime shows and point out their mistakes and make our own profiles.

now that i think about, being with you would be the same as we are now, just with handholding and kissing.

love, y/n

did writing them down help with your feelings? yes.

were you ever going to send him those letters? absolutely fucking not.

“hey y/n!” a voice called. you looked up to see spencer smiling at you from his desk.

“hey spence, what’s up?”

“i’m almost done with my paperwork, wanna grab dinner after? i’m buying.” he asked. your eyes lit up.

“yeah, sure!” you smiled back.

“great! just give me like 15 more minutes.” he said. you nodded, finishing the last file before handing it in to hotch.

-

“oh my god, this food is amazing!” you exclaimed, taking a bite of your dish as spencer chuckled at you. “have some.” you gestured at your food. spencer smiled at you as he grabbed a fork full and placed it in his mouth.

“wow, that is delicious.” he nodded in approval.

“i know right!” you smiled.

“anyways, there’s something i wanted to tell you, y/n.” spencer said. your eyes immediately widened.

does he like me and he’s finally going to confess?

does he know that i like him and he’s trying to let me down easily?

or is it something completely unrelated?

your heart raced as millions of scenarios that could possibly happen at this moment played in your head.

“of course. you know you can tell me anything.” you reassured, grinning at him.

“i know,” he grinned back. “you know that one girl, maeve?”

“that geneticist you’ve been talking to for your migraines? yeah, what about her?” you raised an eyebrow.

“i finally had the guts to ask her out – and she said yes!” he smiled.

oh.

you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. you wanted to just get up and run and never talk to him again, but you couldn’t. you knew that he deserved to be happy – even if it wasn’t with you.

“you didn’t tell me you like her!” you happily exclaimed, putting on a facade.

“i’m sorry! we were so caught up with work and i didn’t even know if her and i would even work out. and if morgan ever found out, he wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.” spencer rambled on.

“is that why you’ve been acting weird and leaving at the most random times?” you raised a teasing eyebrow at him.

“so if our unsub killed our victims here, here, and here,” spencer said as he dotted the map on the board with a marker. “then he could live anywhere around here” he finished as he draw a circle that connected the dots.

“do you think he would live in the middle?” you asked. 

before he could answer, spencer’s phone suddenly started ringing, causing the tall man to reach into his pocket to check who was calling. you peeked over to see a random number display across his screen.

“excuse me.” he said as he quickly left the room.

that’s weird. he never answers calls if it’s not from anyone on the team.

“what’s that about?” emily asked. you shrugged in response.

a few minutes later, spencer returned to the room with a big smile on his face.

“who called?” you asked him. spencer had a panicked look on his face shortly before he switched to a more calm manner.

“oh, my mom.” he lied, which no one seemed to notice.

“yeah,” he shyly nodded. “i’ve been calling her for the past few weeks.”

“that’s great spence! i’m so happy for you!” you smiled widely.

“thank you, y/n. it really means a lot coming from you.” he said, gently grabbing your hand.

please don’t do that. please don’t break my heart into even more pieces.

you slowly pulled your hand away from him, earning a slightly confused expression from spencer.

“so, tell me more about maeve.” you said, making sure he can’t read through you.

“well...”

spencer continued talking as you silently listened and ate the rest of your food (although your appetite has been ruined), talking about maeve’s incredible work in her field and her favorite books. you tried your best to keep your happiest expression on as you hear your best friend (and crush) gush over someone else.

wow, she’s perfect for him.

“she sounds amazing, spence.” you tried your best to smile at him.

as soon as you got back to your place, you finally let the tears flow out of your eyes , sliding down your front door. your body trembled as loud sobs left your mouth, even the hand that was placed over it couldn’t muffle the sounds of your cries and breaking heart.

when you find yourself calming down, you walked into your room and changed into your pajamas as you tried to catch your breath. you unpacked your work bag at your desk. as soon as you took out your journal, you immediately turned to the pages that contained your unsent confessions.

of course he doesn’t like you, stupid. he never did.

you ripped the letters from the spine of your notebook and threw them onto your desk. ignoring the mess you just created, you walked to your bed to get some shut-eye as you let more tears run down your face.

-

you couldn’t let yourself be sad anymore. you had to walk back into work the next day with a smile on your face, making sure none of your coworkers could tell that you were breaking. you let yourself get distracted with cases and paperwork, and even continued talking to spencer like you normally would (because he would definitely notice something was up if you had suddenly stopped). over the next few weeks, you find yourself actually befriending maeve.

“hey spence!” an unfamiliar, yet honey-like voiced called out, causing everyone to turn away from their work. you looked up to see a woman with dark auburn hair carrying a brown paper bag as she walked towards spencer’s desk.

wow, she’s really pretty.

“hey, maeve.” he smiled, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“spencer, how come you didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend?” derek smirked at him.

“we just started dating. everyone, this is maeve.” spencer introduced to the team. everyone said their quick hello’s while you got up from your seat and walked up to the couple.

“so you’re the girl my best friend has been talking to,” you genuinely smiled at her. “hi, i’m y/n.” you said, offering your hand to her.

“it’s nice to meet you! i’ve heard so much about you!” she smiled back at you as she reached out to shake your hand. you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

fuck, and she’s really nice too.

sometimes, maeve would come visit the bau and eat lunch with you and spencer.

“on my way here, i saw that this one clothing store was having a sale.” maeve said as she took a bite out of her lunch.

“oh i saw that!” you exclaimed. “i heard that they were closing, so they decided to have a huge sale. it’s sad to see them go.”

“we should stop by sometime! i think i saw a really cute dress that i wanted to try out.” maeve suggested to you.

honestly, you didn’t feel like a third wheel. it actually feels good to be getting along with spencer’s girlfriend.

“that sounds like fun.” spencer chirped.

“shhh, babe, the girls are talking,” maeve joked as he pouted, causing you to laugh. “i’m kidding! you can come along if you want.” she grabbed his hand as he gave her literal heart eyes.

you felt your heart sting a little.

you would talk to maeve when spencer would bring her over to a family dinner at rossi’s.

“he did what now?” maeve’s jaw dropped in excitement as you told her a story about her boyfriend.

“y/n, don’t tell her, please.” spencer pleaded.

“no, y/n, tell me.” maeve encouraged.

“yeah, y/n, tell her.” derek joined in, placing his head on his hand as he leaned in to listen.

“fine,” you sighed. “spencer wanted to show me how great he is at nunchucks. it was going pretty well, until he accidentally hit his...well, his man parts.” you explained. maeve bursted out laughing along with the others.

“hey!” spencer pouted as he nudged your shoulder with his.

“i’m sorry, it was funny.” you giggled as he ruffled your hair.

“well, now i know what to not get you for your birthday.” maeve smiled. spencer laughed, giving her a kiss on the lips.

you tried your best to not grimace.

you even invited her for a girls’ night out with the rest of the bau ladies.

“thank you for inviting me!” maeve said, giving you a hug.

“oh it’s nothing. you’re dating spencer, so that means you’re a part of our family now.” emily grinned at her.

“and you look amazing. i see that you’re wearing that dress you bought when we went shopping together.” you added.

“you’ve noticed! and thank you for convincing me to buy it, i love it so much.” maeve smiled.

“we’re back with drinks!” penelope yelled as she and jj walked back with a tray full of alcohol. “oh my god, maeve, you’re here!” she smiled at her.

“i am.” maeve laughed.

“oh my god, i forgot to get you a drink! i’m so sorry, i didn’t know what to get you.” penelope practically cried.

“that’s fine, i can go grab something real quick.” maeve stood up from her seat.

“i’ll come with you. i’ll pay for the drink!” penelope said as she followed her back to the bar.

you, emily, and jj took a sip of your drinks.

“so, y/n,” emily started, causing you to turn your head towards her in confusion. “are you okay with all of this?”

“all of what?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“maeve and spencer dating.” she answered. your eyes slightly widened.

“yeah, i’m okay with it. why wouldn’t i be okay with it?”

“because we know you’re in love with spencer.” jj said. you almost choke on your drink.

“i’m not!” you immediately denied. “he’s my best friend.”

“y/n, you might not be that open with your feelings, but we can tell that you like spencer and that him dating someone else is hurting you.” jj explained, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“and we might’ve read your journal.” emily muttered. you sighed.

“yes, i do like him, but i can’t do anything about it. he looks so happy lately and maeve is such a sweet girl. they’re perfect for each other and i don’t want to ruin that for them.” you shrugged as the girls looked at you with sympathy.

“okay, we’re back!” penelope yelled, causing you three to put on a happy mask. “let’s get this party started!” she added as the rest of you cheered and danced the night away.

despite the random times your heart would hurt after seeing spencer and maeve showing affection, you were genuinely happy for him.

“hey y/n,” spencer called out to you from his desk, causing you to look up from your files. “why are you still single?” he asked bluntly, causing an eavesdropping derek to spit out his coffee.

“first of all, ouch,” you sarcastically scoffed. “second of all, i just haven’t had time nor found the right guy.”

and that i’m madly in love with you.

you ignore emily and jj raising their eyebrows at you.

“well, i can set you up with someone i know.” spencer grinned.

“spence, you don’t have to do that-”

“yes i do! you’re my best friend and an amazing person and i want to see you happy.” he explained. you were definitely ignoring emily’s and jj’s eyes practically popping out of their heads.

right. best friend.

“besides, we have the weekend off. you can go on a double date with me and maeve at the foreign film festival!” spencer beamed.

“oh, i don’t want to be a bother.”

“you won’t be! and i think you’ll like this guy.” he said with confidence.

me liking a guy who isn’t you? i don’t know about that.

“please y/n.” spencer begged. after a few moments, you sighed.

“fine, i’ll go.” you agreed in surrender.

“great! i’ll text you the details later.”

maybe this blind date will actually go pretty well and i’ll finally get over spencer.

-

you arrived to the park that the festival was being held at, carrying a picnic blanket as you sported a cute midi dress.

“y/n!” a familiar voice called out to you. you turned to see spencer waving to you with one arm as the other was wrapped around maeve’s waist. you noticed another familiar figure standing next to them.

“hey guys!” you smiled as you quickly walked up to them, giving spencer a hug.

“you look amazing!” maeve complimented you, bringing you in for a quick hug as well.

“thank you, you too!” you grinned at her. you turned to the third person, giving him a friendly smile.

“y/n, this is-”

“agent anderson.” you smirked at him, surprised that spencer had set you up with a coworker.

“please, call me grant. you look beautiful.” he smiled at you.

“thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.” you smiled back.

grant wasn’t a horrible guy. you’ve had small talk with the guy before, and you were actually shocked to see that he shared a few similar interests as you. and you weren’t going to lie, he was quite the looker.

“we still have another half hour until the screening starts. let’s walk around and check out the vendors.” spencer announced, grabbing maeve’s hand as they walked away.

that definitely did not hurt. and you are on a date right now, y/n.

“see you later, lovebirds!” she shouted, causing you two to laugh.

“let’s go, shall we?” grant offered his arm to you. you grinned as you wrapped your arm around it.

as you two walked around, you found yourself having a good time while talking to grant. you both talked about where you’re from, what made you want to go into criminal justice, and even teased each other for the snack choices you both bought for the films.

“i’m telling you, sour patch watermelon is better.” you argued as grant laid down the picnic blanket next to spencer and maeve (who were already cuddled up next to each other).

“at least you get different flavors with sour patch kids.” grant raised an eyebrow at you. you huffed as you took your spot next to him, popping another piece of candy in your mouth.

“aw look, they’re already having their first fight, how cute.” spencer teased, earning a popcorn thrown to the head by you.

soon, the first movie projected onto the big screen, the noises dying down as it started. grant wrapped his arm around you (after asking you politely, which you accepted) as you watched the movie with ease, seeing that you knew the language it was playing in.

“hey, y/n?” grant whispered.

“yeah?” you raised your eyebrows as your eyes were glued onto the screen.

“funny thing, actually. see, i don’t know really know what they’re saying,” he gave a nervous chuckle quietly. you looked at him with confusion. “i thought they were going to have subtitles.” he confessed as you tried to suppress a laugh.

“don’t worry, i got you,” you gave him a small smile. “so far, the guy and the girl are from rich families and their parents are making them marry in the next month.” you explained.

“oh,” he nodded. “wait, what’s happening now?” he looked at the screen with interest.

“that guy over there,” you pointed out the weird-looking man. “is trying to make sure the marriage doesn’t happen. he said he’s gonna seduce the girl and marry her and take her money and kill her.”

“not with that mustache.” grant joked, causing you to chuckle.

you kept translating for grant, trying to keep quiet as he kept making funny remarks. you were having a great time with him, until you heard giggles from your left.

you turn your head to see maeve smiling as spencer’s lips were centimeters away from her ear  (assuming that he was translating the movie for her too) as his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. you couldn’t help but feel you heart breaking again.

“you okay, y/n?” grant whispered closely to you. you slightly jumped, snapping your head towards him.

“yeah, i’m fine.” you faked a smile.

you both continued translating and joking around as you ignored the pain in your chest. after a couple more hours, the film finished with a happy ending, causing you to tear up (and grant to wipe them away with the sleeves of his sweater).

“that was such a good movie.” spencer said as the four of you walked to your cars.

“i know! i started crying!” you said, earning laughs from everyone.

“y/n, you cry at everything though.” spencer teased.

“i do! it’s a talent of mine.” you quipped, raising an eyebrow at him as grant laughed.

“well, this is us,” maeve said as she and spencer stood by her car. “we’ll see you two later!” she bid goodbye as you hugged her and spencer.

“see ya!” you waved goodbye as they got in the car.

“may i walk you to your car?” grant offered.

“sure!” you accepted as you led the way. a comfort silence fell between you two as you walked under the moonlight.

“you’re in love with him, aren’t you?” grant broke the silence. you stopped in your tracks.

“what?” you furrowed your brows.

“spencer. you like him.”

“what? no,” you shook your head as you continued walking. “he’s my best friend.”

“i don’t need to be a profiler to notice the way you look at him,” he shyly put his hands in his pockets. “and i’m guessing you let him set you up on a blind date so you could get over him.”

“i’m sorry grant,” you sighed. “you’re a great guy, really. and i had a lot of fun tonight.” you sulked.

“y/n, it’s totally fine. you can’t control who you love,” he patted you shoulder in comfort. “i think you should tell him how you feel.” he suggested. you looked at him like he was crazy.

“that sounds like a horrible idea, grant,” you laughed. “as you can see, he’s in a happy relationship.” you said as you arrived to your car, leaning on your door.

“i’m serious! you really should.”

“and why would i do that?” you crossed your arms.

“first, spencer looks at you the way you look at him. second, you should hear the way he talks about you.” grant explained.

“no way. he’s just being a good friend and he’s known me for a long time.”

“when he was talking to me about setting us up, he talked about you as if you had put all of the stars in the sky – he was blushing and even stuttering! trust me y/n, i know. tell him before you lose him for good.” he rambled. you sighed, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“i don’t believe you for one bit,” you both laughed. “and besides, i don’t want to ruin spencer’s happiness.”

“you both deserve to be happy,” he smiled at you. you lazily smiled back at him. “listen, i gotta go. thank you for tonight, y/n, it was nice getting to know you more. even though this date didn’t go as planned, it was nice to make a new friend.”

“thank you grant.” you pulled him in for a warm and comforting hug.

-

you scrolled through netflix as you tried to decide on a series to binge-watch with spencer.

spencer: hey y/n, can i come over and hang out with you?

y/n: sure, why?

spencer: maeve’s caught up with work.

y/n: oh, is she okay with that?

spencer: yeah! she knows we’re just friends.

yeah. just friends.

spencer: wanna watch something? i’ll let you pick.

y/n: sure!

spencer: great! i’ll see you in a bit. :)

yay. great.

you finished putting down bowls of your favorite snacks on the coffee table when you heard a knock. you rushed over to open your door to see your best friend smiling at you.

“hey, come in! i hope you like watching new girl again.” you opened your door wider, letting spencer walk in, he immediately jumped onto your couch. you laughed as you sat next to him, pressing the play button on your remote.

“so, how was the date? what do you think of grant?” spencer asked as the show played in the background.

“it was fun! he’s a cool guy.” you answered.

“that’s great! did you guys kiss? when’s the wedding?” he joked.

“hold your horses, bud,” you rolled your eyes at him. “we did not kiss and there will be no wedding. we actually decided to be just friends.”

“what?!” spencer’s eyes widened. “why?! you two looked so good together.” he pouted.

“i know you worked hard to get us together, and i appreciate you for doing that, but it’s for the best. now can we get back to new girl?” you asked. spencer nodded as you two glued your eyes to the tv.

after a season had finished, spencer looked to you, only to see you knocked out. he shook his head in amusement as he stood up and walked to your room to find you a blanket. before he could grab your blanket, your desk caught his eyes.

“what a mess,” spencer muttered to himself as he tried to organize the files that sat on top of a pile of paper. he moved a few folders and started to organize the papers until he started reading them. “what are these?”

dear spencer,

you are the sweetest person i know. you always bring me my coffee order (i would ask you how you remember my order, but then i realized you have eidetic memory) along with my favorite muffin. even when i have already gotten my order, you still show up with two coffee cups and a paper bag and give me my half. 

to be honest, i feel bad that you’re always spending on me, even if it’s just coffee and muffins and you always tell me that it’s nothing. but i appreciate that you’re always thinking of me – and that’s one of the many reasons why i have fallen for you.

love, y/n

“fallen for me?”

dear spencer,

i wonder how many facts go through your head at a time. i also wonder what kind of books you’ve read to have come across those facts. and with the amount of facts that your brain has obtained, i wonder how fast it takes for your brain to bring up a fact that relates to whatever we’re talking about.

despite the random times you started rambling about a topic and someone from the team stops you, i started to find them fascinating. they’ve interested me enough to the point where i started to do some research on my own whenever you brought up a random fact. your fact dumps are cute – you’re cute.

love, y/n

“y/n thinks i’m cute?”

dear spencer,

oh boy, the things you do to me. i know you’re my best friend, but there are times where it just feels like we could be so much more. remember when we were hanging out at my place and we were watching star wars for the hundredth time? we were having a great time, until you wrapped your arms around me and started cuddling me while we finished the rest of the movies.

i got scared, but i didn’t stop you. i let you hold me in your arms and even wrapped my arms around your torso and leaned on you, hoping that you didn’t notice my heart beating louder and faster than usual. i shouldn’t be feeling this way for my best friend, but goddamnit spencer i’m in love with you.

love, y/n.

“she’s in love with me?”

“s-spence?” a voice called out to him. spencer turned his head to see you with a terrified look on your face. “what are you doing with those?”

“i- are these love letters? to me?” he asked. you visibly gulped.

“those were from a long time ago.” you tried to explain as you felt your eyes starting to sting.

“why didn’t you tell me?” spencer sounded like he was about to break. you deeply inhaled before speaking.

“i was scared of ruining our friendship and obviously you don’t see me that way. there was no point in telling you since you’re with maeve now. i meant to throw those away, but i guess i forgot.” you lowered your head. spencer sighed as he tried to take everything in.

“y/n-”

“can you leave?” you asked slowly. “i think we both need some time to be alone right now.”

“but we need to talk this ou-”

“spencer, please.” you looked up at him with tears that were ready to fall. he understood and walked out. as soon as you heard your door close, you fell onto your bed, hugging your legs to your chest, sobbing until you let darkness consume you.

-

after a few days of taking some time off, you were called in for a local case. the moment you sat at your desk, you could feel spencer’s eyes on you. ever since that night, you haven’t returned any of his calls or messages as you tried to recover yourself from getting your heart broken. and now that you’re back, everybody could feel the awkward tension between you two. you tried to ignore it, putting your focus on the case. 

luckily, hotch could tell what was going on and decided to pair you off with emily for the day. the case you were working on wasn’t as severe as the others you have worked on, so as soon as the team delivered the profile, you went out to lunch with grant.

“and then i asked him to leave.” you finished explaining the incident to him.

“i’m sorry that happened.”

“it’s not your fault. my dumb ass forgot to throw away those stupid letters and now spencer and i can’t even look at each other.” you sighed as you continued to eat your lunch.

“don’t say that. it was better that he found out sooner or else your feelings would’ve eaten you up the longer you kept them in.” grant raised his eyebrows at you.

“you’re right. i just miss him. i miss seeing him and talking to him and i messed it all up. god, even after a few days off, i’m still not over him.” you lazily poked your food.

“the wound is still fresh. no one expects you to be alright right away. but it does help if you talk to him.” he suggested.

“what is there to talk about? spencer doesn’t like me and he’s happy with maeve – end of story.”

“yeah about that,” grant nervously chuckled. “spencer broke up with her.”

“what?” your eyes widened. “why? they were so good together. i didn’t want him to break up with her because of me. now i feel bad.” you frowned.

“he didn’t tell me exactly why they broke up, but i’m guessing it has to do with how he feels about you.” he shrugged.

“about me? yeah, sure.” you roll your eyes in amusement.

“you’ll never know unless you talk to him.”

“how do you always know what to say?” you grinned at your friend.

“it’s part of the charm.” he said, earning a laugh from you.

you soon returned to work to wrap up the case. hours later, it ended with a quick arrest with no one else getting hurt. you relaxed into your desk chair as you started on paperwork.

hours later, you found yourself being one of the only people left in the office (along with spencer sitting at his desk and hotch in his office).

“are you sure you don’t want to come get drinks with us? paperwork can wait until tomorrow.” emily offered as she, jj, derek, and penelope were ready to hit the town.

“as much as i would love to, i think i’m just gonna stay in tonight after i’m done. thank you though, and have fun for me!” you smiled at them, giving them quick hugs before returning back to work.

after a couple more hours, you finished the last of your paperwork, bringing your pile up to hotch’s office.

“here’s that paperwork i’ve finished. i also finished morgan’s pile,” you said, placing the files on his desk. “is there anymore that you want me to do?”

“no, you’ve done a lot today. get some rest.”

“okay, thank you.” you smiled at him.

“thank you again, y/n, have a good night.” he said, not even making eye contact.

“thanks, you too.”

“oh, and y/n?” hotch quickly said, lifting his head up. “talk to reid.” he simply said. you softly exhale.

“yes sir.” you nodded, giving your boss a small smile.

you quickly returned to your desk, looking up to see that spencer had already left. you slump your shoulders in defeat.

maybe i’ll talk to him tomorrow.

you opened your drawer to grab a few items and placed them in your bag. you checked the drawer again to make sure you didn’t miss anything, until you noticed some things that weren’t there before.

envelopes? what are those doing there?

you picked them up to see your name and a number written in an eerily familiar handwriting on one side. you carefully opened the envelope that said ‘y/n (1).’

dear y/n,

you’ve always intrigued me. not gonna lie, when i first met you, i was intimidated by you. you carried yourself with such confidence and ambition, i instantly thought that we were opposites – that you would be annoyed by me. but then i got to know you. you greeted me with a big smile, and i honestly felt my knees wobbling.

you are the sweetest girl. you’re so understanding and you always make everyone’s happiness your number one priority (although i do think it’s not a bad thing to be selfish sometimes). you’ve done so much for everyone, especially the team, both inside and outside of work.

when i found out you had a secret love for superheroes and science fiction, we became closer. i told you everything and whenever i felt down, you were the first person i went to, and you did the same to me. i am so grateful to have you by my side. i know you aren’t one to open up a lot, but i’m happy to be that one person you let break down your walls sometimes.

love, spencer

you started choking on air as your heart started picking up the pace. you picked up the second letter, opening it a little faster than the first one. you took a deep breath before you started reading the longer letter.

dear y/n,

for someone who has eidetic memory, i can’t pinpoint the exact moment where i realized i was starting to have feelings for you. there are so many moments where i see you as more than just my best friend, it’s honestly the little things you do that just gives me butterflies in my stomach.

like your first christmas with the team when you gave me several pairs of star trek socks. you told me you felt bad for not getting me something more expensive, but i love them. i’ve worn those socks more than any other pair i own. there was another time where you sent my mother a gift basket just because you thought she was feeling down. i didn’t know you sent her one until she called me out of the blue, wanting to thank you for cheering her up – i honestly didn’t even know you two regularly talked to each other. i don’t really talk to anyone about my mom until i met you, and it really means a lot to me seeing you check up on her when i wasn’t able to.

but what made my heart flutter the most is when you came over to jj’s and helped watch henry with me. i can usually take care of that little rascal without trouble, but i guess one night he decided to eat a bunch of candy and run around the house. you basically teleported (which is not scientifically possible, yet) and managed to catch henry and help him settle down. i couldn’t help but admire you with loving eyes as you made henry laugh while you tucked him into bed. you’re really great with kids and would make an amazing mother someday.

this letter was longer than usual and i got a little carried away. i just wanted to tell you that you are a wonderful person who deserves the world.

love, spencer

you felt a tug at your heartstrings as you smiled from ear to ear. you looked at the last envelope, feeling a little bit scared to open it. nonetheless, you ripped the top open, taking in another deep breath before reading.

dear y/n,

i really am an idiot, aren’t i? ever since the night i found your letters, i felt like the biggest jerk in the world. i broke your heart many times without even noticing, and seeing you cry that night made me feel like absolute shit. i hate that i’m reason you’re hurting and i would give everything up just to make you happy again.

after thinking things through, i broke up with maeve that same night. i love her and she will always have a place in my heart, but she isn’t you. and before you start to think that it’s your fault, it’s definitely not. i made the decision to end things with her, and don’t worry, she’s okay and she actually understands. i’m 100% sure of my decision.

i’ve never met anyone like you. you’ve been in my thoughts and dreams for the longest time. when i fell for you, i fell hard. i didn’t even think you would see me as more than just a best friend, and i am such an idiot for thinking that i can replace you. you deserve true love and happiness and i hope you find that someone that gives you their all – even if it isn’t me.

love, spencer.

you wiped the tears off your face as you read the last sentence.

“holy shit.” you managed to breathe out. 

you quickly got up and grabbed your bag and car keys and sprinted to the elevator. you bounced your leg as you anxiously waited for the elevator to reach the parking garage.

run to your car. speed to spencer’s apartment without getting pulled over. slam on his door until he answers it – i’ll kick it down if i have to.

as soon as the doors open, you started running to your car. as you got closer, you spotted a tall figure leaning on your car, stopping in your tracks and almost dropping your keys.

“spencer?” you said, causing him to jump up a little.

“hey y/n.” he scrambled, trying to get himself together.

“you waited for me?” you stated the obvious. spencer nodded, giving you a nervous smile.

“seeing that you were still up there for a while, i’m guessing you read the letters.” he lightly scratched the back of his neck.

“oh, i had one more case to file,” you started to joke. “what letters?” you raised an eyebrow. spencer’s eyes widened.

“well, this is awkward. i guess i’ll get going-” he started to walk away.

“i’m just kidding!” you exclaimed, gently grabbing his wrist. “i did read them.” you said quietly.

“oh.” spencer cooed.

“look, i didn’t mean to put you in that situation. i really was happy for you two and i know you said it’s not my fault you broke up with her, but i can’t help but feel guilty. i’m sorry.” you felt tears building up again.

“please, don’t be,” spencer grabbed your hands. “yes i liked maeve. she’s a great person and all, but what i felt for her was nothing compared to what i feel for you.” he confessed. you felt your heart racing.

“really?”

“yes,” he chuckled. “and if you don’t feel the same anymore, i’m totally fine just being your best friend. i’d rather have you in my life as a friend than as nothing at all. and i know you deserve someone who makes you happy and won’t break your heart and-”

before spencer could finish, you placed your hands behind his neck and pulled him in for a sweet, yet passionate kiss. you felt him smile as he held your face in his hands, deepening the kiss. soon, you both pull back to catch your breaths, and you found yourself looking at him as if he held the entire universe in his eyes. you gently placed a hand on his cheek.

“i want you.” you lazily smiled at him.

“can i ask you something?” spencer raised his eyebrows.

“anything.”

“did you throw away those letters?” he asked. you thought about his question, realizing that you never really did touch those letters ever since he found them.

“actually, i didn’t. why?” you looked at him with confusion. spencer suddenly started smiling mischievously. he snatched your car keys out of your hand and ran to the driver’s side.

“we’re going back to your place and i’m reading every single letter you wrote me!” he laughed.

“spencer, no!”

[romanceimp]

The Canary Pt. 2 Todoroki x F!

hi, this is pt 2 of my Shouto Todoroki x musician!reader where its a hot mess bc its kinda a love triangle with Enji????

Listen if ya missed pt 1... its here

TW: anything on my page is 18+, fuck outta here children and get some juice... manipulative relationships, messy love situation/ love triangle, hints at abusive relationship (between reader and her ex), her ex is also a drug addict... and a criminal... if you're wondering why this is such a messy fic its inspired by my watching the show euphoria... 

and lemme address this: i know enji got a redemption arc but i wanted to write him with a similar vibe to nates dad from euphoria... to explore the manipulative sides of age gap relationships or relationships with clearly unbalanced power dynamics, my portrayal of him here is not what i would deem perfectly canon but more a vessel for the plot and ideas i want to explore with this piece and the complexities within it, now... that being said... i give you a long awaited pt 2 to The Canary

You watch as Shouto opens the front door and slips away into the night. The door closes and upon hearing the latch click you realize you’d been holding your breath. You exhale long and slow, still stunned by Shouto’s vulnerability. He worries he will never be able to save himself. Yes, you very much relate to that problem. There is something about Shouto that scares you, looking at him in person, it feels like he is someone you’d known forever, that you should have memories of him but the place in your mind that they should be, is blank.

How he feels about you is still incredibly unclear. You had been very aware of how carefully he watched you during your meal, his eyes seemingly tracking each of your movements and committing them to memory. Dinner was uncomfortable, you had wanted to hide and simultaneously prove yourself to him; that you were different from his idea of who you must be considering the circumstances. You knew what he thought; that you were just some shallow girl dating his dad for the money. But that wasn’t the truth.

Maybe someday you and Shouto would learn the truth of who the other was, your pasts, desires for the future, and maybe what that feeling was that made him seem so familiar. You could easily picture yourself trying to make him laugh on a warm spring day and you smile to yourself.  

“Well I’m glad to see you smiling,” Enji remarks as he sits next to you on the couch. “Shouto can be a bit harsh, I apologize…” Enji murmurs and wraps his arm around you, a protective and comforting gesture. “No, it’s okay, it’s only natural for him to feel suspicious or confused,” you console. You pull your legs onto the couch and snuggle into the cushions.“I’ll talk to him about it,” he offers but you shake your head. “No, it’s really okay, I think he’s warming up to me.” Enji raises an eyebrow at you and smiles slightly. “Shouto doesn’t warm up to others easily… or at all,” he dismisses and kisses your cheek. You look up at him and blink. “I’m not worried ‘bout it… best to just give it time,” you smile. Enji gives you a single nod before his expression falls stern.  “As much as I enjoy your optimism, we need to discuss Friday, I won’t be able to go and I don’t want you going alone.” You inhale slowly and hold your breath until you can figure out the words exactly.

“Enji, I told you, I can take care of myself for a night, I don't need you to watch over me every time I do a gig.” His gaze bores into yours, eyes piercing. “And I’ve asked  you nicely not to play this weekend, you’re sophisticated now, a place like the Viper Lounge should be considered beneath you.” You move away from his touch, crossing your arms. While Enji is more supportive than anyone else about your music career, he still didn’t understand. He had been a hero, a place like The Viper is considered scummy in his circle but for you it’s the holy grail of performance venues. You explain time and time again and the words are becoming dull and grey with repetition. “It’s one of the best places for someone who’s looking to get scouted to perform… and the Viper  invited me, that's a big deal.” Enji shifts to face you, “I know this feels big to you but it’s just a small set in a shitty dive.”

A part of you wanted to cry hearing those words, but the tears didn’t come. Just a small, sad smile. “There’s going to be talent scouts and agents there… just to see who was selected for the line up and I’m the closing set… It's a pretty big deal.”  

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shouto walks from the house, his head filled with thoughts of you. Your smile, your voice, that ridiculous yellow guitar. Your eyes, their inquisitive nature. He thinks back to his answer to your question, “I'm afraid that no matter how many people I save, that I’ll never be able to save myself.” He sighs, he can’t remember the last time he could be so honest with someone, let alone someone who was practically a stranger… But there is something about you that seems oddly familiar, though for what reason he felt this way was unclear.

He is about halfway to his car when he feels how light his pants pocket is. His phone… he must have left it inside somewhere, maybe the kitchen? He sighs, he doesn’t want to return to the house, to have to look at you again after being so honest. He had been bold in hopes of- well he isn’t all that sure why he had said something like that so openly, all he knows is the heat is creeping to his cheeks. He takes a breath before hesitantly opening the door. He collects himself, hoping you wont be able to see his embarrassment.

“I told you, there will be plenty more opportunities and you won't have to perform in such a dump,” he hears his fathers voice. He knows that voice… Shouto opens his mouth to call out but shuts it again hearing your icy tone, “you’re not listening... Enji.” Shouto’s eyebrows raise in surprise, you’re not as childish as he first thought. In fact, it seems you’re holding your own against his father in an argument of sorts. He hears Enji laugh mockingly, “I’m not listening? What about Kai?” There’s a long pause, the sound of cicadas filling Shouto’s ears while the name Kai tumbles around his mind. He knew that name from somewhere. “What about Kai?” your voice is so low he can barely hear it. “Is he going to be there?” Enji pushes. Your voice raises slightly in aggravation, “I don't know, I don't talk to Kai, I haven’t said a word to him since the day I left.” Enji scoffs, “Really? It’s suspicious that the Viper Lounge invites you to perform when you’re almost a year out of that scene, he has connections there, what if he’s just using this “gig” as an excuse to get close to you? C’mon y/n, use your head.” Enji’s tone is viciously condescending. Shouto clenches his jaw, waiting for your reply. “I’ve thought about that possibility, but it's an event to showcase new upcoming artists and I haven’t performed there solo before, so I don’t find it totally unbelievable they would ask me.” For once Enji has no rebuttal and you take that as your cue to continue. “Kai isn’t even in the line up… and even if he was, I’m going because this is important to me, this has nothing to do with him.”

Shouto couldn’t keep standing outside listening, he had to get his phone now. He briskly steps inside and shuts the door loudly behind him. “I left my phone,” he announces as he walks through the house to the kitchen. The silence that follows his interruption makes him worry you both figured out he had been listening, though perhaps you were both just embarrassed to be caught arguing. He finds his phone by the kitchen sink and pockets it quickly, before heading back towards the door. He nods towards you both before turning his back.

“Hey Shouto?” The sound of your voice stops him in his tracks. He shifts carefully to face you and sees your eyes glinting with mischief. “You own a hero agency right?” Shouto nods, watching carefully to see where you were going with this. “I’m sure then that you would have a hero capable of a simple bodyguard job, for just this little gig I’m doing on Friday, I know it’s last minute so if you don’t have anyone… I’ll be fine.” He had to play this carefully so as not to expose himself for eavesdropping. “Where’s the gig?” “The Viper Lounge,” Enji scoffs. His father must be furious that you’ve now involved a third party. If there was something Enji Todoroki hated, it was airing his dirty laundry. Shouto was careful not to laugh… you were far smarter than he initially gave you credit for.

“I’ve performed at the Viper before… tons of times-``''You have, but only with Kai Chisaki.” Your face tells Shouto that name hits a sore spot. Hearing his whole name sparks Shouto’s memory and he realises who Kai is. Kai Chisaki, an underground rapper… face tattoos and some nasty habits that earned him a hell of a rap sheet; burglary, assault, possession of unlicensed weapons, public indecency, drug counts too high to keep track of… He’d been arrested again a few months ago, but just like the last, he was bailed out and the charges were dismissed.

“But the Viper asked me to be a part of this gig for showing off upcoming talent… Enji’s just worried for me because he can't be there and my ex has a reputation- ``''That’s putting it lightly,” Enji interrupts, “he’s scum, deserves to rot in prison.” You rub your palms on your thighs and smile gently at Shouto. “I just think the situation would be more comfortable for everyone if I had some protection… Maybe you know of someone that could watch out for me for the night?”

Shouto resists the urge to volunteer, though the temptation of hearing your voice again is overwhelming. “Tch- as if I would trust any of the foolish heroes Shouto babysits to watch after you in that cesspool…” You gaze at Enji with big doe eyes, your body turning, hands inching towards his father’s legs. “You trust Shouto don’t you?” Enji pauses, before he sighs “I do.” You give him a winning smile, “then he’ll pick someone fit for the job.” Enji’s brow creases pensively, “Shouto,” he addresses. Shouto meets his father’s eyes, his heartbeat quickening as he realises what he’s about to ask. “What are your plans Friday? Could you take her?”

Shouto pretends to consider it, but really he counts the seconds until he can agree. He didn’t really know what it was about you that made him want to go with you so badly to this gig. It’s a separate part of himself that Shouto was unfamiliar with, a part of him that wasn’t thinking but desired only to know you… or understand you? There was just something about you. That was all he knew for sure. He nods, trying his best to hide his true feelings. “I could make arrangements to accompany y/n, as long as,” he looks at you, “you’re comfortable with that.” You hold out your hands defensively and shake your head, “if you have to move things around- you’re so busy- I-I don’t wanna cause you any trouble.” Shouto dismisses your statement, “it’s not trouble, I wouldn’t agree otherwise.”

You shift uncomfortably, “as long as you’re sure…” Shouto turns towards the door, facing forward as he leaves you with these words. “It’s important to you, right? Just accept my help.” He opens the door, and holds the frame tightly. He knows he shouldn’t, he hears the chorus of voices telling him not to look back, but it's that one part of him again that takes control and turns his head. He can’t help but smile slightly seeing your expression. Mouth parted and brow raised slightly in surprise. Beautiful.

“We’ll connect about details sometime during the week,” he confirms, “see you Friday.” He hears you call out your gratitude as he closes the door and makes for his car. He slides into the driver's seat and turns on the engine and looks towards his childhood home. The light from the windows casts a glow onto the grass. He finally exhales and with each new breath he gains more clarity about the situation. He shouldn’t care about you, he can’t let himself get any closer. He would help you with this gig and go back to avoiding family dinner like the plague. Shouto leans his head back into the seat and puts the car in reverse. He tries his best to shake off these thoughts but that little devil on his shoulder keeps cackling and whispering suggestions he chooses to immediately ignore.

He pulls out of the driveway and onto the road, pushing thoughts of you away and doing his best to find another topic to think about, something to distract him from the confusion of his swirling emotions. But as much as he tries, he can’t stop thinking about you.

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[beelsnack]

Obey Me! Boys and an Insecure MC

Alternate Title: Coping mechanisms? In my demonic dating sim? It’s more likely than you think.

I honestly didn’t mean for this to be so long, but hey.

CW: Depression, self hatred, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Lucifer: It was subtle, but nothing escaped the notice of the Eldest. He saw them fidgeting with their tie before heading to class, watched the frown tug at their lips when all they managed to produce was a rumpled tangle of silk. Caught them poking ruefully at their acne scars in the reflection of their D.D.D. Heard the frustrated sigh as they tried to sit in a way that hid the meat on their abdomen. But, above all, he paid close attention to those comments.

“Wow, I can’t do anything right, can I?”

“You would have to be a professional makeup artist to fix this mess, haha!”

“It’s alright, you can say I’m ugly.”

That was it. Lucifer stood from his seat at his desk, an errant paper fluttering to the ground in his wake. The Firstborn made his way over to where they were sitting, working away diligently on their laptop. Their breath caught in their throat when they turned to face him, and Lucifer fought back a sadistic grin when he felt them shudder at the feeling of his gloved hand sliding beneath their chin. He would file that away for later.

“That’s quite enough.” his voice was low as he lifted their face. They averted their eyes, clearly uncomfortable, but he kept his hand where it was. “Self-deprecation is unbecoming on anyone, but I certainly will not have it marring that beautiful face of yours.”

Nothing escaped the notice of the Eldest. Especially not the shy smile they wore as they bade him goodnight.

Mammon: Call him an idiot all you like, but if there was one thing that a solid gambling career had taught Mammon, it was how to read a person’s tells. The way they stood with their arms folded and body turned inward said they were trying to hide. Their habit of avoiding mirrors told him they hated the way they looked. The twinge of resigned sadness on their face when they carefully deflected Asmo’s blatant flirting made it obvious that they thought they didn’t deserve it.

It must have been particularly bad one night. The two of them had made themselves comfortable on the bed in preparation for movie night, but instead of cuddling up next to him like they normally did, they sat far enough away that Mammon had to actually scoot forward to jab them in the shoulder.

“Hey, what gives, human? Why’re you all the way over there?”

“I’m just feeling a little warm.” they shrugged, pulling their knees to their chest. They were trying to pull some reverse psychology bullshit by purposefully staring him in the eye while they lied to him. Mammon snorted.

“You really think you’re going to fool me like that? You’ve got at least a millennia until you can even think of lying to The Great Mammon!” he opened his arms and his voice softened when he spoke. “Come here.”

They hesitated - eyes flicking back and forth between him and a knot in the branches that made up their bed frame, nervous - before they tucked themselves into his waiting arms.

He leaned his cheek against the top of their head, inhaling the sweet smell of their freshly-washed hair and internally purring (maybe externally, but you wouldn’t be able to get him to admit it) when he felt them snuggle in a little deeper and release a pent up sigh.

Mammon stayed silent, absently stroking the back of their neck. Words had probably done the damage, and they definitely weren’t going to fix it. He knew that from experience. But shielding his human from their own poisonous thoughts for a few moments was a good place to start.

Levi: Self-deprecating comments were one of Levi’s main forms of communication. It was a defense mechanism, a low-level shield someone would cast when the enemy was ridiculously OP but the game didn’t give you a retreat option. He knew this mechanic.

But when he heard them use it, it made him angry.

How could someone as amazing as them - smart, pretty, brave, loved gaming, made sure to feed Henry 2.0 when Levi was at a Sucre Frenzy concert - think they were anything less then perfect? No, more importantly, who hurt them so badly that they started thinking that way?

He felt like he did that one time Mammon had dropped one of his limited-edition Ruri-chan figures from a balcony. Someone damaged something precious to him, and he wanted blood.

Of course, that would involve talking about feelings and other mushy, normie stuff, and he just wasn’t ready for that. So, he did the only thing he could think of.

Leviachan: Hey, you down for a raid? There’s this new set of armor - it’s suuuuuuper rare, and you’re the only one good enough to get through the dungeon with me!! Pleeeeaaaassseee?

Satan: These little reading dates had started without him really noticing. One day, the human had came into the library seeking a quiet place to study and finish up their homework. Then, they came in with a human world book that Satan had never heard of tucked under their arm and were more than willing to talk about it. This lead to the two of them huddled on the sofa with their noses buried in the same book, and the human surprising Satan by being able to keep up with his reading speed. And here they were.

Satan had chosen a detective novel that he was positive they would like, and the both of them had taken advantage of a quiet Sunday morning to let themselves get absorbed into the story. Satan had his long arms wrapped around them holding the book, and they were leaning against his chest as they flipped the pages. An easy routine that the two of them had fallen into.

He felt them sigh heavily against him and he quirked an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I just...” they trailed off, gazing out the window at the dusty purple sky before snapping back to the present. “The love interest in this book is amazing. I’m a little jealous of them.”

“Jealous?” Satan echoed, looking down at the small frame curled up in his arms. “Why would you be jealous?”

“They were able to do so much with their life. They’re so young, yet they’ve got their life sorted out, they’re smart, beautiful, charismatic, and they’re confident in themselves despite all the shit people put them through...” they sighed again, and this time Satan heard the note of self-hatred on the exhale. “I can’t do anything like that.”

“Now where did you get that idea?” Satan said incredulously. “In the few months you’ve been here, you have excelled in every class you’ve taken, stood up against all of us in our true forms at least twice each, solved a murder, and convinced me to stop plotting to rip Lucifer’s throat out. All while adjusting to life in a world where most of the citizens could kill you by poking you a bit too hard. I would say that goes above and beyond ‘having your life sorted out.’“

The blush that bloomed across their face was so hot that Satan was able to feel it through his shirt, right next to his heart. He chuckled softly as he bent down to kiss their hair. 

“I could write for eons about how amazing you are and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Asmo: Emotions fell right into his area of expertise, and even if they were immune to his charm, Asmo still could smell their emotions like a perfume. And their low self-confidence reeked like rotten fruit. A beautiful arrangement that had been abandoned and left to decay.

The Avatar of Lust was an inquisitive soul (Lucifer would call it being nosy, but whatever.) He was also a firm believer in the theory that you can tell everything you need to know about a person by their skincare routine. So that’s what led to him sneaking into their bathroom while Mammon had dragged them out on one of his stupid get-rich-quick schemes.

“Oh, I don’t think so!” Asmo cried in alarm as he picked up the bottle of human world acne treatment. “They might as well be washing their face with snake venom!”

With a scoff, Asmo kicked the waste basket out from beneath their counter and tossed the face wash in. Bottle after bottle followed it, and Asmo was just about to dump the last bottle of what he assumed was straight rubbing alcohol when he heard the door open.

“Asmo, what the fuck.”

“Darling, we need to have a very serious discussion about your choice in skincare products.” Asmo grimaced as he glanced at the label on the bottle before unceremoniously dropping it into the bottle graveyard. “Can you even pronounce some of these?”

Ah, there it was. The sickeningly sweet smell of self-hatred. Asmo fought the urge to recoil as they practically dove for the trash can.

“Asmo, come on, I have gross skin as it is, don’t take away the only things keeping me from looking like a slice of pizza.”

The sound of glass breaking echoed somewhere in the back of Asmo’s head. That rotten smell was rolling off of them in waves, but he fought off his aversion and knelt down next to them.

They nearly hit the ceiling when Asmo clasped their hands between his own. “Now, now, none of that.”

“None of what?”

Asmo giggled. “You know I wouldn’t bother associating myself with someone unsightly.” one of his hands moved to gently cup their jaw. “You poor thing, you’ve been ruining that lovely face of yours.”

“I didn’t think I could make it any worse.” they muttered, looking away as Asmo stroked a thumb over their cheekbone.

Asmo’s heart clenched, and he leaned forward to kiss them gently on the forehead. “Oh, I can’t stand hearing that kind of talk, especially coming from you. That settles it, then.” he stood with an air of finality.

“Settles what?” they tilt their head in a manner that reminded Asmo of a very adorable puppy.

“We’re going to get you some proper skincare products, and I’m going to spend the rest of the night making you feel like the divine beauty you actually are.”

It was only for a second, but Asmo swore that overpowering smell of rotten fruit was replaced with something just a little fresher.

Beelzebub: Normally, the Avatar of Gluttony wouldn’t complain about someone not eating. More for him. But he didn’t like the way the human was pushing food around their plate without actually eating any of it. They usually loved fried bat wing, too.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, keeping his voice low so his brothers wouldn’t butt in. “Aren’t you hungry?”

They laughed sheepishly, pushing their plate towards him. “Nah, not really. I was snacking all day. Here, you can have it.”

“But I just heard your stomach growl.”

Shame flashed across their face before they looked up at him with a grin that didn’t quite make it to their eyes. “I guess, haha. Just trying to watch my figure, you know?”

Before Beel could swallow down the mouthful of bat wing - when did he even pick it up? They had stood from the table and excused themselves, saying something about having a lot of homework.

It was a few hours before they got back to their room. What had started as them doing their homework in the living room had turned into Mammon begging them to help him study, which then somehow turned to Mammon challenging Satan to a pillow fight. Finally, they had decided to give up and do their homework in their room.

Something delicious wafted out of their room when they opened the door. The source was an overly full plate of food - with extra bat wing, they noticed - sitting on their desk. Blinking in confusion, they shut the door behind them and approached the plate. When they got closer, the note tucked underneath the plate came into view.

Please eat properly. I don’t want you to starve.

-Beel

Belphegor: He never would have called himself needy or touch-starved before. But after spending so long stuck in that attic room with his only interaction being with Lucifer, Belphegor couldn’t seem to get enough physical contact. Especially with the human.

He knew he didn’t deserve their affection, not with how he took advantage of them, manipulated them, murdered them. But the human had enough room in their heart to forgive him, and he would take any ounce of affection they were willing to give.

But it still stung when they flinched.

It was only for an instant, but Belphegor could feel the instinctual tightening of muscles when he draped himself over their shoulder. Feel them jump when he bumped shoulders with them in the hall. Feel their heartbeat speed up when he decided to use them as a body pillow.

“You know you can tell me no, right?” he murmured sleepily as the moment passed and the human settled down.

“Would you stop if I did?”

“Hm...” he hummed, cracking open one amethyst eye to peer at them. “If you don’t like me touching you, why do you let me do it?”

The human sighed, scooting down from their position against their headboard so they were face to face with Belphegor, who still had his hands around their waist like they were a giant teddy bear.

“It’s more like...I can’t believe you want to touch me.”

Now that woke Belphie up - well, as up as he could be while still doing his best impersonation of a koala. “What?”

They laughed, but it sounded strained. “Come on, Belphie, look at me. I’m all...jiggly.”

“So?”

Silence. They looked at him like they were trying to solve a puzzle, and he met their gaze like he was trying to figure out why they couldn’t figure it out.

“It’s not like it matters,” he shrugged, snuggling down into the soft blankets and holding the human a little bit tighter. “I like touching you because you’re you. You being soft and warm is a side benefit.”

“Belphie - “

He yawned, and they genuinely couldn’t tell if it was fake or not. “Shh, I’m going to sleep. You’re my pillow, so don’t talk. Especially if it’s negative stuff like that.”

Honestly, that was the best nap they’d had in a while.

[tarithenurse]

Nightingale - 33

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Fluff and pining! All the fluff! Oh and some smutty hints. Mostly fluff though with a bit of doubt. (Proof reading? What’s that?) A/N: As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 33

The muted sweep of the window sliding open is enough to wake Kakashi, his hands imperceptibly reaching for the kunaï tucked in between mattress and wall. Cotton. Right away, the scent relaxes him.

“Mmm?” he offers as a lazy greeting.

“You didn’t come back,” Uguïsu explains as she pulls the window closed.

Shoes are abandoned by the wall and the white-haired jōnin listens to the soundless steps nearing the bed which then dips under her weight. She waits for him to make room before she lies down, curled on her side and hand resting on his bicep. It sends shiver through his body that he neither can nor wants to suppress.

“So you decided to come here.” Kakashi likes that. “Maybe I should get you a blanket and pillow.”

Even in the darkness of the night, it’s clear she’s grinning. “I can just steal yours.”

“Prft! No way!”

“Hrm. Share then?”

A surge of nerves shoots out in every direction from his chest at the suggestion. He wants to cheer, hoot with joy and the blue-haired woman...instead he wordlessly lifts the cover and lets her scoot closer so close that her knees push against his thighs and her chest brushes against his arm when he breathes – something he suddenly has to struggle to do. I could stay like this forever. It feels like heaven as the silence envelops them.

“’Kashi?” she eventually ventures, “when...how will I know if I passed?”

Fuck! Right! “You could open the drawer in my nightstand,” he suggests.

Rolling over (and stealing most of the blanket) she does as prompted, and Kakashi knows exactly when her fingers wrap around the headband because a tiny gasp escapes her lips and he’s about to congratulate her when every thought is blown away. She’s holding him tight, head burrowed into the crook of his neck, left arm and leg thrown across to somehow pull them closer than ever. Sure, the hand clutching the headband is mushed between their torsos.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!” Uguïsu giggles between kisses along his jaw, cheek and neck.

Despite a dizzying breathlessness, the jōnin manages to answer something relatively coherent.

She’s so warm. Soft. Moulding against his body that’s craving more and responds by embracing her as best as he can. It feels good. Too good. And the growing tightness in his abdomen doesn’t lessen when she tugs at his shirt to create access to slip a hand onto his skin. She can...my heart...

“Thank you, Kakashi,” his nightingale hums in contentment.

His heart is thumping wildly, mostly leading the blood downwards despite the attempt to keep his thoughts clean. “Always. Whatever makes you happy.”

Uguïsu’s thigh is slung across his legs just below the crotch. One small movement and she would be able to feel his predicament...but she stays quiet and her breathing eases into a deep lull. She’s asleep? It seems like it, however there’s no reason to risk waking the girl by moving to check. Or moving to adjust or lessen any discomfort Kakashi temporarily is experiencing.

...

If the trio in Team 7 were envious, only one of them openly shows it.

“...not even like it’s a special headband...” Naruto mutters despite the bump growing on his head, “ev’ry genin has it....’s not like it’s hard...”

Thankfully, Sakura is more than excited enough to compensate and it takes their sensei a while before he can wrestle the attention back and set out with them on their latest mission: an anonymous citizen needs help to repair the roof of a derelict old house.

It’s not that bad. Pitching in himself, Kakashi is surveying the uneven and broken shingles as he tosses what has to be replaced over the edge. The woodwork beneath is in surprisingly good shape and it isn’t long before Sakura exits with the good news that only one room has suffered a leak. She doesn’t on anything else she must have seen in there, and why should she? Any evidence of the previous inhabitants’ identities is gone, erased by the fading of memories or carefully removed by the only living relative.

There had been no sadness the day a much younger Kakashi had decided to find another home. Why didn’t I just sell it back then? Even as a teenager, he had had no dream of living a life where anything but a simple apartment wouldn’t suffice. On the other hand, he had had no need for the money he might have earned on a sale and despite not wanting the memories tied to the place to haunt him, something must have told him that getting rid of the house wouldn’t free him.

Now, as he stands on top of his old life, the unspoken dream is already beginning to seep into the old wood and settle deeper than the dust on shelves and floor. Yes, he smiles secretly, this feels right.

Naruto’s voice cuts through the growing reverie sharply. “Who would even want to live in this old dump?”

“Moron!” The boy has to dodge a sweep of a half-rotted trim. “No one when it’s like this and that’s why we’ve started fixing it.”

There’s a moment where the glare bounces off of Sakura with no visible effect.

“Well...I’m not doing all of the repairs...” Naruto mutters.

Sasuke huffs a laugh from down below, and the sensei and captain of the team thinks he can hear the underlying meaning clearly (something to the effect of: “of course you won’t because we’re the ones doing the work”) and he scrambles to defuse the bickering.

...

They’re right though. Lots of hammering and a few splinters later, there’s still a long way to go and even when the place is ready (eventually) there’s another matter waiting. How do you ask someone? Of course, Uguïsu won’t strictly need to know the history of the house or it’s available to her. It’s not technically lying to omit certain information. Who am I kidding?!

Fingers cart through the white hair, the nails scratching gently along his scalp. “What’s bothering you, ‘Kashi?”

Hanging out on the floor in her little living room, the tentative couple have each been reading their own book, but she must have noticed the lack of page-turning on his side of the carpet.

“Just...something Naruto said today,” he tries, gaining her full attention.

Dark eyes peer at him, a single brow arching in the way he knows means she’s about to figure things out quickly. “...about the exam and stuff?”

That’s a good excuse. “Among other things, yeah.” Closing his favourite book, the jōnin slowly moves to rest his head in her lap. “They got a way to go still...but they’re improving quickly, are dedicated, work hard...”

“You’re considering recommending them for the exam already?”

“Well...” Am I? “I’ve gotta consider it. All captains do...”

However, he doesn’t have to think about it right this moment. Not when Uguïsu is playing with his hair and he’s enveloped in the best, cottony scent. And the same goes for the other thing. Whatever it was. Some...not yet. Halfdozing, he smiles at a muted sputter of giggle and realizes how far she’s gotten in Icha Icha Paradise.