#and I’ve been on the verge of a breakdown for two weeks that I can’t ignore but also can’t force into happening

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[malachitezmeyka]

I’m so tired

[ithinkabouttzu]

hey, sooo, i really like your BoB headcannons and i was wondering if you could do one of how they would break down and turn for comfort after a super hard week or situation or just the war getting to them?? If not it’s cool.

anon ~

Comforting them after a hard week (easy co.)

Genre! angst; kinda sad

warnings! Sad themes, crying

description! Easy company after a hard week (after the war)

a/n: I’m sorry if this sucks, i’ve been in a horrible writing slump 😭 😭

Dick Winters : Tries to keep it to himself, he tries to find other ways to calm down his mind when things get kind of tough, but at the same time, he tries his best to communicate to you his feeling on a regular and expects you to do that same. When things really get to him he just asks if you can talk to him, or just comfort him. He feels way better after you holding him and gets over it pretty quickly but still makes sure to thank you for listening to him.

Lewis Nixon: He has a pretty hard time expressing how he feels, so I think it would take a lot for him to break down, you would see him walking around and you could just tell something was wrong. Later that night he leaves without saying a word, and comes back two hours later shit faced while sobbing into your arms, he doesn’t say a word, but you hold him tight and pat his back, reassuring him that it’s okay. You guys promise to communicate when the other isn’t okay after this.

Carwood lipton: Communication is 🔑 in your guys’ relationship, so when he first starts feeling like this, he tells you about it, he doesn’t really know how to explain how he’s feeling but he tries his best to. The days leading up, he’s more quiet and reserved. Of course you asked him what was up but it was the same response of “nothing” Finally, he tells you just how bad he’s going through it right now, and apologizes that he can’t be completely there 100% for you.

Joe Toye: You’ll ask him over and over again what’s wrong but he’ll just respond with “nothing” one night, you woke up from sniffling come from beside you, when you noticed that he was crying. Before you could fully even wake yourself up, almost as instinct, you turn around and wrap your arms around the sad boy. Holding him tight and reminding him how much you love him and how you’ll always be there for him. All he can reply back with is “I love you” over and over again.

Joe Liebgott: When he’s feeling down he tries his absolute best to hide it from you, he never wants you to worry about him so the thought of him expressing his feelings to you is so hard. Eventually he will breakdown though and just crying into your neck, not daring to show you his tears. Apologizing over and over again for letting you see him like this. you’ll be there, reminding him how much you love him and how you’ll always be there for him. He always will appreciate your love for him.

Bill Guarnere: He’s probably a bit more vocal about his feelings, but he doesn’t necessarily breakdown either. Whenever he turns to you for comfort though he usually will just ask if you want to cuddle or something like that where he can he near you and feel your touch. When he’s mentally feeling under the weather he likes to stay close to you, making sure that you are taking care of makes him feel way better.

George Luz: He just has a sad puppy look on his face, when he walks around he just looks so sad. You do almost everything to cheer him up but nothing works. It takes everything out of you just for him to tell you what was going on, when he tells you just how he’s feeling, he can’t help but shed some tears while he’s doing it. He asks if you want to do something with him to help him get his mind off of it, and when you guys do get out of the house he feels way better.

Bull Randleman: Whenever he’s feeling down, and he knows he’s on the verge of breaking down, he just hugs you as tightly as he can. Hoping to feel any comfort from your hug in return. He’s more clingy in a way, and that’s your signal of knowing that something isn’t right, he’s not big on communicating his feelings so you guys both settle for long nice hugs and cuddles. After getting to spend that time with you he feels so much better.

Eugene Roe: He’s quiet about his feelings, but he offers to do more and more things for you when he’s sad. You can tell that he’s trying to get his mind off something. When you hug him tightly one morning, just reminding him how much you love him, he can’t help but break down in your arms, expressing to you his thoughts. You offer to spend a day just doing some of his favorite things, but you remind him that you will always be there for him.

Floyd Talbert: He tries to distance himself when he gets sad, he can’t bear to let you see him like this, emotional and vulnerable, so he tries to run from you as much as he can. Almost giving you the impression that he wanted nothing to do with you. You breakdown first, asking him what his problem was, “Do you hate me?” You ask, tears feeling up your eyes. “No baby, no not at all” That’s when he loses all composure. Letting out all of his feelings in tears, telling you how sorry he was for ignoring you.

Skip Muck: he’s just not his bright self like he usually is. He’s more quiet and just isn’t himself. So you come up with the great idea to surprise him with his favorite meal. That would cheer him up right? When you’re finally able to get him out of the house, you spend that whole time making the nice dish, preparing it very delicately, so that nothing was out of place. When he comes home and sees how much work you put in to surprise him, he runs straight into your arms, crying gently into your shoulder. “I love you so much”

Don Malarkey: He sticks really close to you when he is feeling out of it. He also gets very protective over you when he’s going through it. He’s just so scared that he will lose you. When he expresses his feelings to you, you make sure to let him know that nothing will ever happen and that you will always be here. Just making sure that you are safe and okay is his comfort by far.

Babe Heffron: Hugs hugs and hugs. That’s how he seeks comfort from you, constantly asking for hugs or being cuddled, as someone who loves physical intimacy, a good hug from the one he loves most is the best remedy for a bad day. He can just feel all of the stress leaving his body when he feels your arms around him. He loves it and he loves you.

Shifty Powers: His comfort is you. Just being around you is enough to make him feel so much better. Holding you is his favorite thing to do when he feels under the weather. If his emotions ever become too much, then he’ll tell you, he’s not scared of communicating his feelings to you, especially after all that’s happened. He knows that you will always reassure him and be there for him, and that makes him feel so much better.

Frank Perconte: When he’s feeling down, the best way to get rid of it is just spending all the time he can with you, now that he’s back home, he’s learned to never take time for granted. He doesn’t really breakdown but he seeks comfort in hanging out with you. Going on cute little date nights and having fun together. Any time spent with you is the best time to him.

Thank you for your request! If you liked this, make sure to like or reblog! 🤍

[fuck-customers]

I work at the big blue K store in e-commerce.

Manager says during the busiest days of the week especially with the Super Bowl coming up (Friday through Sunday, sometimes Monday), they are not going to be in the department. So now I feel as if all of their hours out of the department is going to turn into my overtime because they know I’m reliable and they easily guilt trip me. I don’t want the overtime. I can barely keep myself upright anymore.

The past three to five Fridays (not the only days but just the more common day) I’ve worked 10+ hours with only one 15 minute break and that’s if I’m lucky. I haven’t been in for the last two days. I’m nervous and I’m on the verge of having a mental breakdown. I need the money, but I can’t do this job anymore. The favoritism in this place is horrible too. I once got a comment of “how nobody wants me in this position” from a STORE MANAGER. I’m below a managers position. The comments hurt, even little ones I get on their bad days. Even when I know it’s just them having a bad day. I never get an apology, they just act like nothing happened the very next day.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[outerspacebisexual]

Congratulations on the followers! I hope there is another celebration for more soon as you deserve all the recognition!

I was hoping it's not to late to request from the prompts list. If it not I would like to request 13 and 18 with Argyle and a female reader. The reader has a crush on her friend Argyle, so when he returns from Hawkins and he tells her about what happened/is happening shes worried and upset.

Bad Trip - Argyle

Summary: Your friend Argyle shows up on your doorstep after vanishing into thin air. You aren't entirely pleased to see him.

Pairing: Argyle x Reader

Word count: 1.0k

Warnings: swearing, little fight, fluff!

a/n: i love writing side characters that i can just make shit up about. like, does argyle have a sister? dunno. does he have one in this? absolutely.

thank you for requesting! <3

Masterlist

You were hallucinating.

That was the only logical explanation for how Argyle was standing on your doorstep with an awkwardly sheepish smile on his face after being missing for a week.

Every thought emptied from your mind as the shock turned into relief, and then quickly morphed into anger. You stepped forward and planted your hands on his chest, sending him flying back a few feet as you pushed him.

His smile dropped as he stumbled. “What—”

“How dare you,” you seethed, stepping closer to him. “How dare you just show up like nothing happened? Like you didn’t just disappear without a single fucking word.” Tears pricked at your eyes as you continued your tirade while Argyle just stood there, watching you with wide eyes. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

He reached out to take your hand, but you stepped back, pulling your hand to your chest.

“Don’t.”

“I can explain everything, I swear,” he said. “Well, as best I can. There are still some things that are totally way over my head. But I can explain as best I can.”

You were crying in earnest then.

For a whole week, you had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown after you arrived to work to find Argyle had ditched his shift mid-way through. You had gone to his place after your shift ended, thinking that he might have split to hang out with Jonathan, but he wasn’t home.

You tried calling him the next day, but still nothing. You hadn’t been able to shake the sinking feeling in your gut that something was wrong.

And after the third day of radio-silence from him, you had used the spare key to let yourself into his house.  Nothing had been moved. All of his clothes were still in his closet. The dirty dishes were still piled on his counter. The movie that he’d rented for you guys to watch on the weekend was still sitting on top of his TV, even though it was due two days ago.

It looked like he had simply gone to work and not come home. That sinking feeling had turned into a pool of dread.

You had called his older sister, thinking that maybe he had gone to visit her, but she hadn’t seen him. You had even tried Jonathan, but his line had been busy every time you called.

No one in Lenora Hills seemed to know where he was. He had just vanished in the middle of the day.

You had been on the verge of calling the police, but hesitated. What would you have even said to them?

Despite the fact that you want to be so much more, you were just his friend, and he didn’t have to tell you where he was going and when, even though he normally did tell you everything.

Seeing him now, your heart was torn between wanting to throw yourself into his arms and never let go or throw him of your lawn and never see him again. “Go away, Argyle,” you managed, swiping at your wet cheeks. Your voice was pathetic, even to your own ears.

“I can’t leave with you crying like this,” he said softly. “Let me explain, please. And if you still want me to leave then I will. I won’t even fight you on it.”

You stared at him, debating letting him in. He looked hurt at your hesitation, face falling as you didn’t immediately welcome him in like you always did. That one look alone had you pulling your door open, leading him to your couch where he began explaining his disappearance.

An hour later, and you were wondering what kind of new strain Argyle had tried that led to a trip this bad.

You held your hands up. “Wait. So, Jonathan and his brother and sister somehow have magic powers?”

“No, just his sister. It’s so totally insane, dude. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The whole time he’d been explaining this crazy story, you had sat in silence, which you returned to now. You just blinked at him. “Right.” You still weren’t entirely sure if you believed it, but Argyle had never lied to you before, and to start with something this fucked up would be out of character for him.

He seemed to be excited about his little adventure. You weren’t sure how in the hell he could have any positive feelings about the gruelling week he’d had, but…that was just Argyle.

After a moment, his eyes fell to his shoes as he said, “I’m sorry that I didn’t call. It’s just, you know, secret government assassins on our tail and all.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I did want to,” he continued, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. “And I thought about it, like, all the time. But… but I thought that they might be able to trace the call or something, like in those spy movies you like.” He paused, finally looking up at you. “I didn’t want them finding you.”

Your heart melted at the sincerity in his voice. Even with all everything going on, he was still thinking about you.

“It’s alright,” you told him. “I was just so scared that something bad happened to you. I mean, I guess it did, so I was right, but I’m just glad you’re OK.”

He smiled, his casual Argyle smile that made you weak at the knees. “Gotta trust that gut instinct more often.”

You scoffed. “I trust my gut all the time. It’s you and Jonathan who second guess me.”

“Trust me, I won’t be second guessing any shit you say from now on.”

You couldn’t pull your eyes from him, just so overcome with gratitude and disbelief that he was sitting across from you. Safe. Even after being involved with monsters and superpowers and secret government agents. “You’re not allowed to be gone a whole week ever again,” you said. “Especially without telling me.”

Argyle laughed, throwing his head back. “I won’t be going anywhere any time soon. Not without you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, at the underlying meaning that you prayed you weren’t imagining. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

[trek-tracks]

Jim may be groggy from having been, you know, clinically deceased for a bit, but his genius brain makes it through the resurrection intact and he figures out surprisingly quickly through the looks on Bones and Spock's faces and the not-very-good obfuscation and deflection attempts that a) he should definitely be dead right now, and b) his inexplicable continued existence in the mortal plane means that Bones has accomplished something way out of line with the tenets of his profession, and something that's likely to get him in very real trouble. 

So, after thanking Spock for saving his life and gauging Bones' reaction (tense and self-deprecating), he asks Bones to give him and Spock a moment alone in the room; besides, you look like you could use a break, Jim says. Maybe grab a cup of decaf this time, Bones. I’ll be fine for a few minutes. Bones agrees, but Jim thinks he looks decidedly unhappy and reluctant about it, even through his usual joke about terrible hospital coffee and caffeine being its only reward. 

Bones leaves the hospital room with his remote monitor, on the verge of a breakdown that hospital coffee, even caffeinated, is not going to solve. He's just seen Jim warmly thank Spock and practically ignore him, aside from studying him for an uncomfortable minute, with a gaze that could be interpreted as accusing. Now Jim doesn't want him in the room. 

Best case scenario, he's been replaced, after all he's done. Worst case, Jim expressly hates him for his actions. Maybe Jim was at peace wherever he was, and “Doctor McCoy” pulled him back to a harsh universe of responsibility and judgment, where he has to face the reality of thousands dead on the ground, none of whom the doctor had thought about breaking his oath to resurrect. 

For his part, Jim waits a few seconds after Bones has left, and turns to Spock, whose open expression indicates that he seems to believe Jim’s intention is to continue his thanks. Spock readies himself to say, Gratitude is unnecessary - or, perhaps, illogical - but is taken aback when Jim interrupts him not with gratitude, but with a plea. 

Please don't turn Bones in, Spock. I don't know what he did; you know better than I do because, well, you were there, and I was dead. I know that I shouldn't be here now, which means he broke every rule in the book. He always feels he has to do that for me. I don’t know why. I didn't thank him because I didn't know how he'd take it; he lets guilt eat away at him when he thinks he’s done something wrong, and I didn't want to make it worse. He looked awful. I know you could probably throw the book at him and get him kicked out of Starfleet. I know you have every right to put it in your report, like after Narada. I understand that. But I can't let you do that to him. 

Perhaps Spock should have anticipated this, but it momentarily floors him. It takes his breath away to know that Jim thinks so little of him, and to know that Jim has real, precedented reason for doing so. Spock wonders if Jim's earlier thanks to him was merely an attempt to gain Spock's favour in advance of this request. If this is how Jim sees him - as someone whose utility is limited to teaching him to be unfeeling in the face of death, as someone who might get between Jim and McCoy’s friendship - then it seems, logically, that Spock is a liability on the Enterprise. 

 Spock passes Bones in the hall on the way out, after assuring Jim he has no plans to "throw the Doctor under the bus," as the strange idiom goes. Jim had smiled at him warmly after that - of course he had, in relief for what that means for McCoy’s future. 

The Captain's time is yours, Doctor, he says to McCoy without warmth. The fragile friendship and understanding they'd developed, especially in the past two weeks, seems to have disappeared.

It figures, thinks Bones. Jim is upset about what I've done, and now Spock agrees with him. I probably need to find another job, if I still have a license after this. 

I think I'll let him rest a while, Spock, Bones says, heading to his office to plan out the rest of his life, as Spock vanishes down the corridor. Best thing for him.

Jim wonders why Bones hasn't come back.

[artemiseamoon]

After this is over

Pt 3: The thing about time is

Slate x Calderoni ft Walt, Sal , Joaquin

Fic info

Part one | part two | part four - finale

(Alt endings one , two)

Read on A03

Words: 3,562

Warnings: not many, drinking, vague sexual content

3 weeks later

Slate shifted the brown grocery bag to her other arm and fished the keys out of her pocket. Turning the corner, she slowed her steps at the sight of her guest.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

He grinned, his voice warming her as it always does. He looks the same, but a little different, lighter maybe.

“You know phones are a thing, right?”

Slate stopped in front of him. There’s a playful mischief in Calderoni’s eyes.

“Surprise visits are more fun.”

Slate smiled. “Sometimes."

Calderoni takes the groceries from her; she lets him and unlocks her door. Once inside, and after locking the door, Slate kicked her boots off then goes to the kitchen. Calderoni put the bag on the counter, his eyes darted to her.

“You look good, Slate,” he paused as he took in her full form with his eyes.

His compliment, combined with the affection in his tone and his smoky gaze, makes her want to be closer to him. To melt against his strong frame as he secures his arms around her. She fights the urge and stands on the opposite end of the counter,

“You too Commandante,” she winked at him, “you’re shrinking.”

“I’ve been busy." He rested his hands on the counter. “Not a lot of down time.”

It's a movement she knows well, he would often do it back at the warehouse during their meetings. Just as he was going to say something else, Slate leaned over and looked at his feet, he chuckled in response,

“I remembered. I was carrying your damn groceries. Can’t do both.” Calderoni left the room, then returned, this time without his shoes, or his jacket. She assumed he hung it up by the door

He stood next to her and continues to observe her. Slate seems different, yet still herself. The last time he showed up at her door, she was on the verge of a breakdown and could have shot him. Now, she seems more centered, no signs of anxiety or stress.

He inched closer to her until his arm pressed against hers. “Traffic was a motherfucker. A drink?” He asked.

“No. I don’t drink Monday through Friday now.”

“Just weekends?” He asked.

After the question leaves his lips, his eyes dipped down again to her outfit. It was simple really, but he expressed before how much he loved the way simple pieces looked on her.

Today she's in a black tee tucked into fitted black jeans and her leather jacket. It's only as his eyes roam, does she recall she did take these jeans to Mexico, and did indeed wear them in his presence. They were worn, old, but fit like magic and she had no intention of throwing these out until they literally fall apart at the seams. From the look in his eyes, Calderoni's a fan of these jeans too.

“Friday nights and weekends.” She replied with a grin.

His eyes met hers briefly before he made a go for the mini bar, in the left corner of the kitchen. Calderoni eyed the bottles then made a hmmm sound. He picked up a bottle, then presented it to her.

“Your boyfriend a scotch drinker?”

Slate stood beside him, “No, he prefers tequila. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

The little grin on his lips, paired with his amused expression causes Slate to roll her eyes at him. Smug bastard.

Slate stepped away to get a glass, then returned to give it to him. He winked at her as he took it, then processed to pour himself a drink.

“Interesting isn’t it, “his eyes met hers, “you don’t like scotch. Yet, here's a brand-new bottle.”

His eyes fell to her lips, and she licked them purposely before responding. “Maybe I just like options. The more the better.”

Calderoni chuckled, shook his head, then recapped the bottle.

Part of her wanted to ask how he knew about Joaquin, but it is Calderoni, he either looked into it, or he’s been in town for longer than he’s putting on. It’s possible he could have seen her with Joaquin, especially since loves riding with him and it’s become one of her off day past times.

As for the Scotch, it was never her first choice of drink. She knows only two scotch lovers, Walt and Calderoni. Walt is states away, so the bottle isn’t here for him. Truth is, she got the bottle because she was thinking about Calderoni. She saw it and he instantly came to mind, especially because it’s one of his favorite brands. The smell of scotch also reminds her of him, so she bought it, and tucked it in the back. Where he, of course, found it.

Calderoni knows that bottle is directly associated with him; the teasing smirk on his lips as he raised the glass gave it away.

Slate pushed herself forward and went to the fridge. She took a soft drink and opened it. “Why now?”

“You said you needed time.”

When she turned back around, she found Calderoni leaning against the counter with his drink.

She took a sip, then responded, “It’s been over 3 months.”

“I’ve been busy, Slate. Plus, you didn’t say how much time.”

“Fair.” She headed to the living room, he followed.

Slate sat in the armchair and pulled one of her knees to her chest. The two of them maintain heavy eye contact as he takes a seat on the couch to her left. Calderoni angled his body to hers. He pressed the tip of his tongue to his teeth before taking another drink.

“You seem good Slate, how have you been?”

“I am, rough days still happen but that's life, comes with the territory. My department is fine, I’m working a case I enjoy,” she put the can down, and lifted her other leg up off the ground, “I started seeing a therapist.”

He raised a brow. “How's that going?”

“At first, I almost quit. But, glad I didn’t. Turns out you have to - open up for it to work.” She grinned, so did he.

“Thats a full plate, when you’re not hanging out with bikers of course.”

“He’s not a biker,” she put her feet down, “he rides, but he's not part of a gang or anything.”

“Young and slim huh? Quite the change.” He patted his stomach.

Even with his comment, Slate was sure Calderoni isn’t suffering a lack of confidence, or feeling intimidated at all. Just, maybe a little jealous.

“Oh stop, I don’t care about that. Besides, I like you the way you are.”

He doesn't respond verbally to that, but she can see the amusement in his eyes, and the way the corner of his mouth slightly curled.

As he drinks, she slipped her jacket off and laid it on the back of the chair. Settling into position, she angles her body toward his. Slate let's her eyes roam, moving over his face, then down to his body. Even now, it still amazed her that he ignites such a fire inside of her, it was so unexpected.

“You’re like a cuddly bear."

He was mid drink and almost spit it out. Calderoni wiped his mouth then set the drink down, “a cuddly bear?”

“Yeah, but a badass, mysterious, dangerous cuddly bear.”

Calderoni chuckled, “of all the things I’ve been called, that’s a new one.”

“I had this bear when I was a kid. It was a thick brown bear, with this tummy that came out like this,” she talked with her hands to help him visualize it, “it became so flat over time because I was always sleeping on it and holding it.”

“Thats adorable,” his eyes are bright and warm, his body language completely relaxed, “still don’t know how I feel about being compared to a cuddly bear.”

“It’s a compliment, trust me." She leaned in his direction, continuing to observe him, “Guillermo?”

The use of his first name catches his attention. She didn’t say it often, she usually just called him Calderoni. There's something about hearing his first name on her lips that pulls at his heart strings and further stirs his emotions.

“I don’t have an answer for you, and I don’t know what we’re doing here. I just know that since I got back, I’ve been trying to forget you and move on - “

“With bikers.”

“Stop,” she laughed softly, “I’m being serious here. It doesn’t even make sense we don’t know each other. We only had a few moments together, but I can’t- shake you,” she looked away, his intense eye contact was starting to overwhelm her, “no matter what I do, or who I spend my time with, you’re still over my shoulder like this ghost I’m carrying with me, and I don’t know what to do about it. At the same time, I know we can’t be together, for obvious reasons. So, where does that leave us?”

Calderoni is quiet, reflecting on her words. His brown eyes downcast now, fixed on the floor.

She continues her thought, “Even if there was some way it could work, I’m here, you’re in Mexico. I’m who I am, and you’re who you are. Then there’s all the rest of it.”

He slowly raised his eyes to hers, and this time the warmth is gone, a heaviness is present. “I would have warned you if I was able to. You know that.”

Slate pressed her lips together in a tight line and scrubbed her hands over her face. “Yes, there are two sides to the whole thing, and yes, I understand where you were coming from, but I can't just be over that. I can’t just forgive you for killing Amat. That's shit was traumatizing, and I lost people I care about. Saw them die with my own eyes. I could have died in that field, Guillermo.”

She stood and went to him, kneeling down before him.

He frowned and leaned toward her, “you think I don’t think about that, Slate? All the fucking time? You lost people, I know that. Good guys who didn’t deserve that end. You also know Walt should have informed me of his plans. I’m not trying to be cold, Slate, but it comes with the job, you know that..."he trails off, then takes a breath before finishing, "I know, you could have died too.”

Slate rested her hands on his knees, her eyes full of emotion and locked on his. “If it was me laying there, instead of Amat, bleeding and begging for help, would you have shot me?”

Without skipping a beat, Calderoni answers, “no.”

Slate dropped her head and closed her eyes. He gently cupped the side of her face, his skin is warm against hers, but she doesn’t look up yet.

“The approaching men, they would have seen if I was alive.” She whispered.

“I would have pretended you were dead. Then, I would have carried you out of there.”

Her eyes raised to meet his.

“Come here.” Calderoni draws her closer to him and guides her into his lap. Slate sits on his thighs and rests her head against him as he wrapped his arms around her.

After some time, she sits up to view his face. “My bear didn’t have this though.” she scratches his mustache, the low chuckle from his gut vibrates against her.

Slate moved her hand from his mustache to his cheek and laid it flat. He continued to hold on to her, his eyes steady on hers.

“You ever think about a beard, you know, leaving the pornstache behind?”

“You want me to grow a beard?”

“Not a full grizzly one, just one of those well-maintained medium ones, “she traced the shape it would be with her fingers against his skin, “I think it would look good on you.”

He smirked and gave her body a little squeeze, “I've had the pornstache for a long time.”

“Think about it. Change can be nice.”

Calderoni freed one of his arms and grabbed her chin. He gently, slowly, drew her closer until his lips met hers.

Later that afternoon

A small smile lingered on her lips as Calderoni planted kisses on her bare shoulder. Seconds ago, she got up from the bed to open the window. The cool air helped dry the layer of sweat on her skin. Her heart is still racing, body buzzing.

When she climbed back into the bed, he pulled her closer and draped one arm over her body.

“There’s so much I want to ask you,”

He stopped kissing her shoulder in response and looked up at her.

“About your life, your family, who you were before all this.”

“Can’t guarantee I’ll answer all of them” He brushed the length of her arm with his fingertips, then took her hand into his own.

Slate went silent, thinking about what questions she wanted to try first. “This should be a safe one, where’d you grow up?”

His eyes are fixed on their interlaced fingers, between their bodies. He responded with a casual ease, “Reynosa.”

“Do you have a family? A wife back home? Kids?”

He quirked a brow, “you weren't joking about the questions.”

“Hey, I said I was going to ask.”

“I was married, but it didn't work out. One adult son. If there are any others, I don’t know about them.” he tacked on a grin at the end.

“Okay, let's see - rollin' the dice here, what made you into the guy we met that day?”

Calderoni slowly shook his head in response, no. Slate didn’t push the matter and relaxed back against the pillow.

Quiet replaced the brief conversation for a few moments.

“You never told me what you want to do, about this, us?” she looked him in the eyes.

She watched his mind work through his eyes. He took his time before responding.

“The reasons it can’t be are valid. So are the reasons we shouldn’t. Still, none of that takes away from what I - “he paused, reconsidering his words, “this could be my last visit, if that’s what you want.”

Slate sat up, the lightness in her expression now replaced with a sullen one.

“It would be the wise thing to do, for both of us. Just, bury this whole thing and move on. But just because it’s wise doesn’t mean i want to do it…” she takes a beat, and tries to read his expression, “I need you to be open with me about this Guillermo, about how you’re feeling, and what you want.”

“I want to keep seeing you,” his eyes returned to hers, “I like you Slate. I don’t want to give this up.” He sat up too, “even out of Mexico, it’s dangerous for us to be together, less so here. And “he cupped the side of her face, '' I never want to bring harm to you because of my job, or who I am. You have no idea how complicated things are there, and what I had to do to get to where I am. I don’t want to put you in danger. I didn’t have any control of that in Mexico, but I have some now. I want to keep you away from it.”

Slate nodded and dropped her gaze to the space between their bodies.

“And whatever you do, do not step foot back in Mexico, you hear me?” When she didn’t respond right away, he gave her cheek a little squeeze. “You and Walts little operation down there is long over but it’s still not safe. It hasn't been forgotten. You don’t know who else saw your face. So far, I don’t think anyone's looking or asking about you, I aim to keep it that way.”

“I’m not going back.”

“Good.” He moved his hand down the side of her neck. “good.”

Slate sighed and placed her hand over his. “So, what now? We just pick some place in the middle of nowhere to rendezvous every few months, existing in whatever this space is between us?”

“I could work with that. As long as you’re part of the deal.”

She smiled, leaned in closer, then pressed her forehead to his. “I can too.”

The next night

“Come, taste this.” Slate stirred the sauce once more then listened for his footsteps. Calderoni stood behind her, his chest and stomach pressed against her back. She twisted in place and raised the spoon, carefully, to his lips.

He tasted the sauce and hummed, “damn, this is good.”

“Thanks.” She turned her attention back to the stove and continued stirring. Calderoni hovered behind her a second longer and kissed the exposed skin on her neck before stepping away.

“ I leave early in the morning.”

“Already?” She glanced back at him; he’s setting the table.

He nods, “have to get back.”

“I understand.” She turned the burner off and put the cap on the pot. “I’m glad you came by.”

Calderoni put the table setting on hold and returned to Slate, he grabbed her waist and pulled her close to him. When they kiss, it’s a soft, lingering, sensual kiss. The kind that takes dinner off her mind and shifts her thoughts to something more physical.

Once the kiss breaks, he tilts his head back, his eyes full of warm adoration. His lips parted briefly, and she could feel he wanted to say something, but decided against it. He keeps it to himself, and instead kisses her once more before returning to the table.

“You’ll have to find the place on your own, you okay with that?” He asked as he finished the table.

“Yeah, I figured, it’s okay. I already have a few ideas.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“We can go even split.”

“No, I’ll pay for it.” He insisted.

She considered his offer, then accepted, “okay. Rental? Or just outright buy it?”

“Buy it.”

“You sure?” She headed over to him and grabbed his hand.

“Positive.”

“And what happens if we break up this not-a-relationship situation?” She smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Then you’ll get a bill.”

“Ha, real comedian here.” She returned to the stove. “Everything's ready, take a seat.”

…

Slate and Calderoni were in the middle of dinner when the buzzer rang. Her eyes jumped to the clock then to him.

“Expecting someone?” He asked, a hint of suspicion in his expression.

“No.” She stood and grabbed her phone from the counter. There are no recent texts, and none from Joaquin. “I have no idea who that is.”

Calderoni got up, then came back with his gun in his hand.

“I don't think it's the secret relationship police Guillermo, “she pointed at it.

“Better to be safe.”

“Can’t argue with that,” it buzzed again, and she went to the wall unit and pressed the button.

"Yeah?"

“We can see your light on; I’m freezing my balls off out here.”

Her lips parted in surprise, and she lifted her finger from the button.

When she looked behind her, she could see Calderoni, he knows whose voice that is too.

“I didn’t know he was coming - “she hovered her finger over the button.

The idea of Walt and Calderoni coming face to face, in her apartment, instantly filled her with panic and anxiety. Walt hated Calderoni and Calderoni was either indifferent to Walt or strongly disliked him, it depended on the day. This was a nightmare and would quickly expose what she’s been trying to keep secret.

“I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing in New York,” she stared off until the buzzer went off again.

“Let him in, this was going to happened eventually. “

“What, him picking the absolute worst time to surprise visit me?”

“Him finding out.”

“Yeah, but it’s my personal life, my business and this situation is about to be a fucking bomb, do you have any idea how - “when the buzzer went off again, a string of curses left her lips as she let him in. “fuck.”

“Hey,” he grabbed her by the shoulders, “it will be fine.”

“No, it won't.”

“It will, “he tried to reassure her, “he’ll have to learn to live with it.”

Slate nervously scratched her arm while staring at Calderoni. “If I asked you to hide in the bedroom - “

He chuckled. “I’m not hiding from Walt.”

“Of course not, a bunch of stubborn ass bulls, the whole lot of us,” she pulled herself from his grip and headed to the door.

Calderoni watched from the hall as she tried to amp herself up quietly, whispering something to herself he couldn’t hear. Then the knock on the door came. Walt’s going to lose his shit, and Calderoni is amused by that.

Slate swallowed then unlocked the door. She opened it slowly, revealing Walt and his large smile. “Surprise!”

“Yeah, that it is - “

Sal popped out behind him.

“Oh, and I brought Sal with me.”

Slate’s eyes jumped from Sal to Walt. In contrast to their excited faces, it looks like she's seen a ghost.

“Hey, what's going on?” Walt asked, his smile dropping.

“Shit, bad time? Is there a guy in there?” Sal asked, he rested an elbow on Walt's shoulder.

“Yeah, you could say that.” She forced a smile.

“Tell him to put some pants on, did you cook? It smells like - “Walt slips past her into the apartment before she can stop him.

He only makes it in two steps before stopping cold.

“Fuck - “Slate muttered; Sal took a step toward her.

“Hey, Slate,” he made eye contact, “what is going on?”

“A waking nightmare apparently,” she stepped aside, opening the door wider. Sal can finally see Walt, and what made Walt stop in his tracks.

“Why the fuck is this prick here?” Sal turned to Slate who now has part of her face covered with her hand.

Slate laughed, a nervous laugh and closed the door.

“It’s going to be a long ass night, better get a beer.”

Next

Masterlist

More Narcos

Might be interested. If not, I can remove the tag ;) chapter 3 is on A03 as well. The finance, chapter 4, will be up in 2 days. @yourlocalspacewitxch @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc

[heroloverangel]

Cloud City

We interrupt your regularly-scheduled filth for some surprise Sad Boy Hours.

You’re six years old when Oboro Shirakumo drops into your life. Quite literally, in fact.

It’s your first day of school, and you’re terrified. Your family only moved to this city a few weeks ago, and you haven’t had a chance to meet any of the other kids in the neighborhood. So here you stand in the school yard, shyly watching from behind a tree as your new classmates play together. You’re lonely, but too nervous to approach them. Your tiny mind is on the verge of a breakdown and you can feel the sting of tears in your eyes. “Don’t cry,” you whisper to yourself. “I’m not a baby, don’t cry.” You sniffle, but your train of thought is interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping above you.

There’s a boy floating on a cloud several feet over your head, one hand grasping a branch to keep himself steady. “Hi!” He grins down at you, and you look back with wide eyes. “I’m Oboro! Wanna be friends?” You gawk up at him; you’ve never seen a quirk like that before. Even his hair looks like a fluffy cloud in the breeze. 

“Okay,” you agree after a few more seconds of confused staring. Your new friend gives you a thumbs up, immediately loses his focus, and the cloud dissipates underneath him. Both of you scream as he comes crashing to the ground, landing on your back. You’re rewarded with some impressive scrapes to both your knees, and him with both his front teeth knocked out. You’re inseparable from that moment on.

You’re the best of friends through elementary, but things begin to change once you hit middle school. It’s cute when you’re six and happily tell your parents that you’re going to get married when you grow up. It’s just awkward when you hit puberty and start to discover that your feelings for your best friend suddenly aren’t so cute anymore. The two of you grow apart with separate friends and different interests, but still make it a priority to walk home together every day. 

“High school admissions are due soon,” he points out during one of these walks. It’s been storming all day, and the two of you huddle under the same umbrella in a half-hearted attempt to stay dry. He’s hit a growth spurt over the years and towers above you now; it’s hard for both of you to stay out of the rain if you’re not nestled suspiciously close together. “You figure out where you’re applying yet?”

You shrug, stepping wide to avoid a puddle that he ignores. “Probably just Endor. It’s close, and they’ve got a pretty decent reputation.” You nudge him with your shoulder. “You’re going for UA, right?”

It’s never been a secret that Shirakumo wants to be a hero, and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll be great at it. He stops walking and you look at him, surprised to see his expression so discouraged.. “Yeah, of course. You’re not? Their general studies class is supposed to be one of the best, too.”

You glance away. “Too much pressure, I think. And it’d be hard, going to school in a different city where I wouldn’t know anyone.”

“You’ll know me.” You’ve both had a grip on the umbrella, but now his fingers wrap tightly around your hand and squeeze.

“Oboro…” You’re not used to him having such a serious look on his face, his eyes wide and unblinking as they stare into yours.

“Come with me.” It’s not an order, it’s a plea, and your chest feels tight at the thought of disappointing him. You swallow hard and nod. It won’t hurt to apply, you think. You probably won’t even get in.

Shirakumo pushes a stray strand of hair out of your face and leans down to press his lips against yours. Your first kiss isn’t perfect; his neck is bent at an uncomfortable angle to make up for your height difference, your nose bumps awkwardly into his as you shift, a car drives by too fast and splashes both of you with frigid water. Still, when he pulls away his smile is as warm and bright as the sun. You’ll gladly follow him to UA. You’ll gladly follow him to hell and back if it makes him happy.

He’s accepted into the hero course without a problem, but you make him promise that he’ll go even if you fail. You’re more shocked than anyone when you open the envelope to find an acceptance letter welcoming you to UA, and you finally allow yourself to feel excited. You’ll be going to the best school in the country, and you’ll be there with your favorite person in the world. For the first time you won’t be in the same class, but you’ll still be close enough to watch him reach his dreams. 

The first few weeks of high school are a whirlwind of chaos before you settle into a routine. You have to be at the train station before dawn; every morning Shirakumo meets you outside your house, still half-asleep and groggy as you walk. You split something simple for breakfast most days while you ride. When you’re lucky enough to find two open seats together, you can manage a well-deserved nap slumped against each other’s shoulders. Your classes are tough but with enough effort you manage to do well once you form a study group going with the other girls in your class. They’re friendly, and they’re both impressed and jealous to learn that you’re already dating a hero student. They swoon when he appears at your side on the first day of school to buy you lunch, and you can’t help but gloat just a little at your good fortune.

The hero course is even busier than general studies, and you don’t get to see much of your boyfriend during school hours. It’s nearly a month into the term before he catches sight of you at lunch again and practically sprints over, flanked by two classmates you recognize from the stories he’s told you on the ride home every day. “Guys,” he grins and throws an arm around your shoulder. “This is my girl! The one I’ve been telling you about.” Your heart skips a beat at being called his girl, and knowing he’s been gushing about you to his friends. Yamada’s a bright, loud ball of energy when he introduces himself, while Aizawa barely mumbles his name and looks like he’s been dragged over against his will. They both seem nice, and you’re happy he’s found some good friends to work with.

Everything goes surprisingly well for your first year at UA, and your second seems like it’ll be just as good. It’s late one night, several months into the school year, when you’re woken by a tapping at your bedroom window. This isn’t the first time Shirakumo’s snuck you out of your house, but the window gets harder to crawl out of every year and you’re glad that graduation isn’t too far off. “Hey, come look at the stars with me. They’re really pretty tonight.” It’s not like he needs to give you the excuse, but you can see he has a point.

Ten minutes later you’re laying on a cloud together, floating a few feet over the power lines in your neighborhood. It’s cold up there, and you cuddle together for warmth as you watch the stars overhead. You know more about the sky than him, and he’s happy to listen while you point out a few things above you. A chilly breeze blows through your thin pajamas and makes you shiver, and he pulls you in closer to share his heat. “Was all of this just an excuse to get me alone up here?” You laugh, kissing his smiling lips.

“Not all of it,” he jokes with a smirk. “We’re past the halfway point this year already. Just one more, can you believe it?” You curl up close and listen to him chatter about his big plans for the future. You’ve heard this all before; he’s always so excited about the idea of opening that hero agency with Aizawa and Yamada. “I figure we’ll do the sidekick think for awhile, work up some solid experience, y’know? Then it’ll be smooth sailing when we break off on our own after that. Four, maybe five years?” You nod, running your fingers through his familiar fluffy hair. “And then once things settle with the agency, we can get married if you want,” he announces with only the faintest blush betraying his nerves.

“Oboro, what?” You bolt into a sitting position, gawking at him with wide eyes. Sure you’ve thought about the future you might have together, but the two of you have never talked about it before. “You can’t just spring that on me out of nowhere!”

He folds his arms behind his head, totally unconcerned. “It’s not really out of nowhere, is it? You know I’ve been in love with you since we were six, right?”

This boy is ridiculous. “Me too, but still! Isn’t this a little sudden? There’s so much more to talk about if you want to get married.”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it won’t be for a couple of years. We’ve got plenty of time to talk it over.” He grabs your hand and pulls you back down to rest your head against his chest. “I’ll wait for you, as long as you want.” You stay like this for a few minutes, mulling the proposal over in your head. “Just think about it for a couple years, okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “Okay.” You’re already warming up to the thought of marrying him. You’re seventeen, and you’ve been together for eleven years now. You can give him another five. Or ten. Or fifty, if that’s what he wants. In your heart you already know you’ve decided on an answer, and you murmur it into his ear later as he’s helping you climb back through the window into your bedroom. He’s beaming with happiness as he kisses you goodnight and flies off. You’re too giddy with love to sleep the rest of the night.

If you’d known what was coming only a week later, you never would have said goodbye. He promised to call you after his internship the night before, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep instead as soon as he got home. You’re not worried until he doesn’t show up in the morning to walk with you, even after you call him twice with no answer and wait until the last possible minute to leave on your own. You arrive at school just as the final bell rings, and it’s a bit of a relief when you catch a glimpse of Aizawa looking even more tired than he normally does. They must have had a really tough time on their patrol, you assume, and Oboro just decided to take a well-deserved day off.

Your day is uneventful until lunch, when you hear your name called to the office. The principal sits there with your homeroom teacher and the counselor, all of them looking grim. A lump forms in your throat; you’ve got no idea what you could have done. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. We understand that you’re particularly close with Oboro Shirakumo from the hero class.”

You nod. “Yeah, we’re dating. Um, actually we’re kind of engaged now, I guess?” Your stomach drops at the sad expressions facing you. “Did...did something happen? I haven’t seen him all day. Is he hurt?”

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for the answer. “He was killed in an encounter with a villain yesterday. I’m sorry for your loss.”

You want to argue, insist there’s been some mistake, but the words don’t come. A sudden sense of numbness sweeps through you as it sinks in, and it feels like everything within you shuts down. Your brain doesn’t process the voices offering you sympathy and compassion. Your lungs refuse to take in air. You’d swear that your heart itself stops beating in some attempt to defend itself. You’re not even aware of your movements as you stand and leave the room while your teachers are mid-speech. You need to get out of there. You need to be alone. You need to breathe, but you can’t. You’re on autopilot as you rush down the empty hall, if you can get up to the roof there’ll be fresh air-

Completely blinded by your grief, you collide hard with another body and almost fall before hands grab your shoulders to steady you. “Sorry,” you gasp through the lump in your throat. “I just-” You blink back your tears and stop when you recognize him. Up close, he looks even worse than usual. His eyes are red and hollow, the dark bags under them could pass as bruises. It’s obvious he hasn’t slept all night, you can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off of him. “Aizawa,” you croak, your voice cracking on the syllables. He doesn’t say anything, only gives your shoulder a squeeze, and something inside you completely breaks.

“Oboro, he’s...” is all you can manage through your tears. You fists ball into Aizawa’s jacket as you sob against his chest, and he doesn’t stop you. He knows there’s no comforting you; the only thing he can do is let you use his shirt as a tissue while you mourn. You’re vaguely aware that a bell rings to resume class, but you ignore it. You can’t bring yourself to do anything except cry until there’s nothing left, and he stands there holding your shoulders to keep you upright. It’s the best way anyone can help you right now.

An eternity later, you wear yourself out. Your throat feels raw, your eyes are burning, and your fingers hurt from the grip you’ve had on his uniform. “Thanks,” you manage out, and he nods silently. He’s not the most exciting, but you’ve always liked Aizawa’s calm personality as a match to your boyfriend’s unstoppable energy. Your own emotions are a train wreck, and you don’t think you could handle being around anyone else after that news. “I’m glad he had you,” you muse out loud.

“Thanks,” he says awkwardly with a shrug before fixing his wrinkled jacket. “You should get back to class.” Aizawa walks off before you can think of anything else to say.

You don’t go back to class. The other students have noticed something’s off, and rumors are beginning to spread around campus already that there’s a new, empty space in the hero course. You grab your bag and head for the exit as fast as you can, ignoring everyone else along the way. You spend the rest of the week at home; your parents allow it once they learn what happened. It’s a struggle to get through the first month without Shirakumo’s presence hanging over you like a cheerful little cloud, and the rest of the year doesn’t get any easier. Your friends do their best to console you, but it’s a losing battle when you feel his absence every minute of your day. It’s all too familiar, too easy to see the missing piece that’s been a part of your life for so long. You transfer to Shiketsu for your final year, where no one knows about Loud Cloud and you aren’t stuck going through a routine that’s been irreparably broken.

It’s an uphill fight. You force yourself to do well in school, because it’s what he’d want for you. You throw yourself into work and establish a good career, because it’s what he’d want for you. You make yourself move past your loss and date other men, because it’s what he’d want for you. By the time you’re 31 you’ve got a divorce under your belt, a sad excuse for a social life, and a cat with fluffy white fur; you loved him the moment you laid eyes on him. You’re not entirely satisfied with how your life has turned out, but it could be worse. You can go entire weeks now without thinking about him. Sometimes you wonder what kind of life the two of you would have, but you try not to dwell on those thoughts. 

You’ve had the day off and have spent it happily lounging around the house. You treat yourself to lunch and settle on your couch to watch a movie with your beloved cat when an unfamiliar number pops up on your phone. You answer without a second thought. “Hi, if you’re out of noodles, I can just get rice instead. It’s fine.”

There’s a beat of silence before the man confirms this is the correct number. You don’t immediately recognize his voice, but you’re sure you’ve heard it somewhere before. “I’m not with a restaurant. This is Aizawa, from...from UA, when we were younger.” You can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, and he continues. “We need to talk. It’s about Shirakumo.”

It’s surprising how hearing his name is enough to reopen wounds you thought healed years ago. You swallow nervously, fresh dread pooling in your gut. You can hear how hoarse your voice is when you answer. “Okay. I’m off today, if you want to meet.”

You’ve got a very bad feeling about what you’re about to learn.

[pot-of-terv]

Disclaimer: This starts soft but very quickly goes to a place I did NOT expect it to go so, just, be prepared. I guess there were some things my muse just couldn’t leave untouched :_D There’s also an additional drawing in there somewhere among the text. The ending is kind of a cliffhanger (dun dun duuun... part three is coming!!) but it’s happy (hurt/comfort y’all, MY BRAND)!

Also I have to say- oh my goodness this ended up having over 2,000 words and I’ve never written a fic this long! This feels pretty amazing but also, very scary, because as you know I’m a Finn so English is not my first language and this far I’ve stuck to just writing itty bitty things. Writing a story with multiple parts is also new to me, so wow, actually, thank you PuzzleJune for making me challenge myself in fresh and exciting ways 🥺

tw: breakdown

PuzzleJune2021, Week Two: Space (Quiet)

It is mesmerising. Intoxicating, even, Atem muses as he reaches up to rub his own sleep-soft face, eyes never leaving the still sleeping figure beside him. He shifts to lay on his side, slowly, with deliberate movements, trying to not disturb the quiet of the early morning.

Watching him sleep like this... I can feel the bed move when he moves and his warmth whenever he's close enough. I never had that before, he thinks and his heart clenches. I have it now.

Yuugi snorts in his sleep and Atem can't help but smile. That boy... no, that young man, has been through so much, too much, and yet he still sleeps so soundly. It's nothing short of incredible and the pharaoh wonders if he's ever met anyone more deserving of respect and admiration. Their journey thus far has only lasted for a couple of years and during that short time, the former spirit of the Millenium Puzzle has had the first-row seat to witnessing Yuugi's strength, his growth - how he slowly but surely had begun to trust himself.

Atem turns his gaze away from Yuugi and mulls over that thought. It hurts him somewhere deep in his core to remember how little worth Yuugi had seen in himself during those first months after Atem's consciousness awakened. He touches his chest where his heart is and leaves his hand there, feeling the slow rhythm beating under his palm.

That feeling of self-doubt could as well be his own, for he did think he was Yuugi for a while back then. It's a troubling realisation and he frowns at the ceiling. Despite not having any memories, how many of those insecurities had been Atem's own that he subconsciously reflected towards Yuugi's heart and by doing so unknowingly meddled with Yuugi's self-image as a whole? Objectively he knows that his emergence helped Yuugi gain confidence even though he didn't remember those first few times Atem took his place, but subjectively...? Atem's brows knit tighter together and he balls the hand that rests on his chest into a fist.

To call these thoughts troubling is an understatement. Suddenly Atem feels uncomfortably restless, he can't keep still, he needs space, he has to move. But moving would mean leaving the warm blankets and the even warmer form next to him and risk waking him in the process.

His chest feels so tight and it aches in a way Atem hasn't felt in millennia and he squeezes his eyes shut, holds his breath and with one swift movement pushes the blankets off of himself, sits up and rolls to the side to plant his feet onto the floor. The wood is cool under the bare soles of his feet and that sudden feeling makes him pause for a moment. He releases the breath he was holding.

It's almost funny how he already feels better. He glances over his shoulder to see if he had woken Yuugi up but the other youth seems undisturbed, still fast asleep. Relieved, Atem stands up... and doesn't know what to do. It's still practically night time and the house is silent. Mama Mutou and Grandpa will be getting up in one to two hours and Yuugi much later than that if his previous findings are to be trusted. Normally he would happily snooze the morning away with Yuugi but he doesn't want to go back to bed, the restlessness still buzzing under his skin even though that unpleasant tightness in his chest has ebbed and is now just a nuisance instead of actual, painful anxiety.

He turns around to face the bed so he can take another look at Yuugi, properly. A glance wasn't enough. Will never be enough, he realises all of a sudden. I want to be looking at Yuugi, and only Yuugi, forever. How can his heart feel so big and full but so small at the same time?

Atem is overwhelmed, not yet used to the absolute link between his feelings and his physical senses, and he lifts his hand once more to his chest, almost desperately grasping his shirt and pressing his fist against his heart, to feel the beat of it, and the warmth of his body.

He has this body now and he should be so, so thankful for it, but at this moment he can only feel guilt. He loves Yuugi but has still put him through so much and he knows, oh how he knows, that the trip to Egypt broke him. Atem had felt Yuugi mourn him weeks beforehand, felt his grief he so valiantly tried to conceal - too bad their bond at that point was the strongest it had ever been and Atem knew. It took everything in him to keep on going, to keep on telling himself that this was the right thing to do, this was how he could repay Yuugi's kindness and let him go on with his life, let him be free. He had heard the modern phrase “if you love them let them go”, and wouldn't that have been so grand? To prove his love in such a poetic, profound way?

All that in spite of Yuugi's feelings screaming at him that to be separated was the last thing he wanted.

Atem chuckles, a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite having shared such an extraordinary bond, communication had never been their strongest point, duels usually excluded, and talking about their feelings was not an exception. Still isn’t. They both had just kept on doing what they thought was the best for the other and in the process ended up wounding each other in ways that Atem isn't sure he can ever truly understand. Yesterday he had come down to the kitchen to find Yuugi folding laundry, eyes puffy and red, yet when he talked he sounded so happy. Atem had left it at that because there's nothing he could do when confronted by that smile that can put even the Sun in shade.

Slowly he realises that he's been staring at his partner for such a long time that it must be bordering on creepy. How did he get here from that warmth he first woke up to, from that love he so deeply feels for Yuugi? Why hasn’t he thought about these things before? It's like all he has in his head are questions with no answers to calm his mind. It's only been a week since... since it all should've ended, but didn't, all because of Atem's selfishness. Selfishness... and love. His own heart had broken when his life points counted down to zero and he saw the utter hopelessness he felt surface in his heart reflected right back at him on Yuugi's face. The memory of it is still so strong that he has to grit his teeth together to keep his jaw from trembling.

He hadn’t been able to stand that expression, to stand the knowledge that he was the cause of it. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough. The pride he had felt toward Yuugi's skill was completely overshadowed by the grief that hit him in waves, his legs feeling like lead as he slowly walked to Yuugi, his own voice distant to his ears as he offered words of consolation and praise. Empty words, they were, he knew it then and he knows it now. How could he ever leave this person who had gone through so much for him, because of him, who had loved him so fully, who had risked it all to be there for him in his quest to regain his memories even when knowing that the price for that would be too steep to consider if Yuugi ever stopped to do that?

Atem had never wanted to leave. He had learned to live again, to have friends, and grow as a person, no matter how minuscule that growth might have been. Yuugi had been him and then Yuugi had become his world. There's no other way to explain it. As much as Atem had longed for his memories, for those people he loved and lost all those thousands of years ago, he couldn't bear the thought of losing another family. Even when the prize would be to regain his first one. 

But he had to. He had thought he had to.

Yet when he was just about to take the last step, he had faltered. Had wondered - does it have to be this way? What if there's another choice he could make?

And the gods had answered him. He didn't have to beg, he didn't have to fight, he just had to ask.

Just ask.

It had been so simple, in the end, so effortless. Of course, Atem asked for that third choice - or didn't really even ask, he didn't dare, he wished for it, his heart on the verge of breaking a second time. He had been painfully aware of his friends behind him, holding their breaths, waiting for the end. Atem felt their feelings wrap around him like a cloak and he bore the weight of it, accepted it, as he couldn't quite believe that it would be that easy to stay. So he had wished.

And that wish had been granted.

And now he is here.

Standing in the middle of the floor in Yuugi's room while Yuugi sleeps, hands closed into fists, both grasping his shirt now, holding back tears that threaten to spill forth. Wondering why did he even put Yuugi through all that, when in the end, it was for nothing? Oh, he thinks, oh, how it hurts. His own shortcomings, his own pain, the pain that he had caused others. Especially the pain that he had caused Yuugi. He hadn’t deserved it, he never deserved something so cruel and insincere as Atem's decision to leave had been.

A sob wrangles itself up and out of his mouth, he's not able to stop it in time and that breaks his resolve. He sways on his feet as tears force their way out and streak his cheeks, fall into his shirt and seep into the fabric as he hiccups and tries half-heartedly to stop it. He shouldn't be crying, not after everything he’s done. He doesn’t deserve to feel so sorry for himself - he should be the one to take responsibility, to carry that burden without a hitch. But, the thing is… at this moment, he’s no longer the prince-then-pharaoh from 3000 years ago. He’s no longer the amnesiac spirit occupying the Puzzle. He’s not the King of Games.

At this moment, he’s just a 16-year-old boy who is desperately trying to deal with every responsibility he’s imagined are only his to bear and failing spectacularly. So he cries, and cries, and he can no longer see with how blurry his eyes have gone. He prays Yuugi won't wake up to it, he just has to suffer through it and he'll be fine. Crying is fine, actually. He would laugh at himself if he could - aren't tears an actual luxury, after all? He wasn't able to cry his own tears with his own body before, but now he can.

There's a hand on his shoulder and Atem's heart drops into his stomach - oh no, now he's woken up - then another on the other side, then a tug, and Atem follows blindly. He's guided back to the bed and coaxed to sit down where a warm body presses against him and he's enveloped in an embrace.

Atem finds that he can't talk, he tries to draw breath to get the words out but sobs are the only thing he can produce and finally, he hears a voice call his name. It's so soft and warm and loving that Atem somehow feels worse and buries his head into Yuugi’s shoulder, his chest heaving and he almost wails from the struggle of it.

“Shh, other me. Cry it out. It helps. I know.”

He listens to Yuugi and does just that. It’s not easy to give up the reins but with Yuugi by his side, he finds the will to allow himself to succumb. He clutches his partner's shirt, holds him and is held in return, and lets himself cry. Lets his tears come like he's never done before and faced with the force of them, he feels like there's no end to it.

But there is an end. After a period of time that feels like an eternity, his sobs subside, his tears slow down, and he feels like he can finally loosen his hold of Yuugi's shirt to let blood flow into his fingers again. His nose feels snotty and he's sure there's no dry spot left on his partner's clothes and somehow that thought makes him laugh.

“See? All better now,” Yuugi murmurs against his temple and presses his lips there. That sign of affection almost makes Atem's eyes well up but he squeezes them shut, refusing to start crying all over again. He feels drained and empty and he's pretty sure he should be ashamed. He had woken Yuugi up and made him comfort him without asking but all he can feel is gratitude. Gratitude and love and endless adoration.

“Aibou,” he sniffles, voice congested and raw. He means to thank him but his throat closes up, yet Yuugi seems to catch his meaning.

“No need,” the shorter of the two says and Atem can feel his smile against his skin, “it's okay. You're okay, we're okay, everything's okay.”

Atem wants to argue but finds no energy for it. And - as he thinks about it, he realises that Yuugi is right.

They're okay.

He wraps his arms properly around Yuugi and squeezes, sighing softly. His mind is comfortably quiet now and he presses his ear against Yuugi's chest, listening to the beat of his heart (his heart's heart?) and feeling his own fall smoothly into the same rhythm. It's natural, it's right.

“I think,” he manages to croak out, “that we need to talk.”

Yuugi holds him closer and nods before pressing his face into Atem’s hair.

“Yeah,” he replies, sounding relieved, “we sure do, other me.”

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

In which @inber​ sends a drabble request, and I accidentally write nearly 4k words instead. Woops. This is all probaly quite dreadful, I warn you now. If it wasn't 11:30, I'd cut it down. But it is. So I won't.

Geralt twisted the key in the ignition once more. The engine choked and spluttered, the car jerking beneath him. Shit. Cars zoomed past him on the dual carriageway, their headlights illuminating the inside of his car in bright strobes. His phone sat discarded on the passenger seat. As he watched, another message flashed up. He grabbed the phone and scrolled through them.

7:31 - Geralt?

7:45 - Where are you

7:59 - Hello?

8:15 - Hello?

8: 25 - Ok don’t bother w/e

9:02 - I was more interested in your brother anyway

With a sigh, he thumped his hand against the steering wheel. His hand accidentally connected with the horn with a short, sharp honk, making him jump. He cursed, and thumped his head against the wheel.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Shit. His first date in a year and he’d fucked it up. Honestly, he felt more annoyed about the failed date than the woman he was supposed to be seeing - Eskel had given him her number, muttering something about her magnetic personality - and as they and Lambert were on their second bottle of Redanian Spirit by that stage he’d actually texted her. She’d actually seemed keen to meet: the restaurant had been her idea, in fact, and she’d sent him the link to make reservations nearly three weeks in advance. Sure, it had been expensive, but…

Geralt stopped thumping his head against the steering wheel. Fuck. Suddenly, everything fell into place. He was an idiot. He was a horny idiot who’d been so invested in the idea of not dying alone that he’d managed to completely ignore all the red flags.

He turned the key again. This time there wasn’t even a response from beneath the hood. The car was completely dead. Fantastic. He quickly checked over his shoulder to make sure no more cars were coming, then hopped out of the car and clambered up onto the grass verge beside the hard shoulder. The dress shoes he was wearing had no grip whatsoever, and slipped on the muddy grass. He swore, the hazard lights blinking at him, mocking him. He found the number for the breakdown cover Vesemir had insisted he get, and tapped an impatient foot as the calling tone hummed against the noise of the traffic.

“Good evening, this is Western Winds Breakdown Cover, how can I help?”

“Hi,” said Geralt, blocking the sound of the wind and traffic with a cupped hand, “I’ve broken down and my car is completely dead. I need someone to come and tow me to the nearest garage.”

“And where are you?” Trilled the voice.

Geralt looked around. “The A26,” he said, “just before the turning to Oxenfurt.”

“One moment, please.”

The line cut to tinny hold music. He sighed, fiddling with a self-aware nervousness at the sleeve of the suit jacket his date had insisted he wear. Finally, the voice reappeared.

“It looks like we’ve had a bit of a rush this evening,” she said, “I’m afraid we won’t be able to get anyone to you for at least a couple of hours.”

“What?” Geralt bit back the urge to swear at her. “I can’t wait here for two hours!”

“Oh, of course Sir. We never recommend our clients wait at this time of night, especially for so long. If you can just confirm your license plate and membership number for me, I can send out a truck as soon as one’s available. The driver will give you a ring when he arrives just to confirm that it’s your car.”

Geralt breathed through his nose, impatiently. “Fine,” he said, “Fine,” then gave her the details she needed. He could hear her tapping away on her keyboard at the other end of the line.

“Right, then,” she said, finally, “And we’ll just need a password as well, just so we can confirm your identity when our truck arrives.”

He didn’t even think. “Dandelion.”

“Excellent choice. Thank you very much for choosing Western Winds.”

The line dropped off. Geralt stared at his car, the hazard lights still merrily blinking away. He looked at his watch - his best watch. It was half past nine. There was nothing else for it. He’d have to walk to safety.

He leant back into the car to grab his keys and his wallet, which had been lying next to his phone on the passenger seat. Next to the wallet was a vibrant bunch of flowers. Fuck. He grabbed them too. They’d been expensive, after all: He’d dashed into the flower shop moments before getting in the car, struck with the sudden panic that a fancy date at a fancy restaurant would also require fancy flowers. The woman behind the counter had been a little amused - and very sorry, as that late at night there’d been fewer blooms in stock than usual. He’d had to make do with what they had: a few red tulips, some carnations, a couple of chrysanthemums. It was, to be honest, a bit of a mess, but in a sudden surge of creativity Geralt had decided a simple dozen red roses would be too boring.

He stared down at the mismatched bouquet and sighed. She probably would have laughed at it anyway.

He began the slow trudge through the wet grass towards the slip road, the ridiculous dress shoes squeaking and twisting in the mud. Up above, far away from the noise of the main road, a neat row of houses twinkled down, their windows illuminated in neat orange rows. He stared up at them.

Wait…

He reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone, and quickly dialed the number. It rang for a long time. He was about to hang up, realising what a stupid idea it had been, when there was a sleepy voice in his ear.

“Hello? Geralt?” Jaskier sounded exhausted.

“Jaskier? Sorry, did I wake you up?”

There was a sniff. “No, no. Well. Yes, you did, but it’s too early to be asleep anyway. What’s up?”

“My car’s broken down on the A26, just before the Oxenfurt slip road.”

“Fuck, Geralt. Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine. The car’s not.”

“Ohh, no,” breathed Jaskier. It sounded like he meant it. “Poor Roach.”

“Hmm.”

“Have you got a thingy coming? You know, a tow truck guy?”

“Yeah, but not for a couple hours.”

“Shit. Geralt, I’d come and get you but I’ve had two very large glasses of wine. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t expecting you to.” He paused. “Are you okay, Jaskier?” There was a long silence. Jaskier would chat and chat no matter what. If he was silent, something was definitely wrong. “Jaskier?”

“You’ll get all judgy on me.”

“No I won’t,” Geralt lied.

“I… went round to Virginia’s house. Virginia de Stael.”

“Jaskier.”

“I know, I know. You warned me. And I went anyway.”

“And?”

“And… she was there with her new boyfriend. Who told me fuck off. And then she told me to fuck off. And I said, look, Virginia, you’re the one who sent me that text, and then her boyfriend started getting angry, and she started getting angry, and then…”

“What?”

“Well then I read the text out, and then they started swearing at each other, so…”

“You ran?”

“I ran. I ran all the way to Tesco to buy a bottle of Rose and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. And they didn’t even have Ben and Jerry’s. I had to buy a cake. It was the cheapest thing I could find with sugar in it.”

“I did warn you.”

“And as we both know, you’re always right.”

Geralt couldn’t help but smile to himself. Even traipsing through the mud, his new shoes and freshly-pressed trousers almost certainly ruined, speaking to Jaskier lit a kind of warmth within him, making him feel safe.

“Can I come over?” He asked.

“I… what? Geralt, what are you talking about?”

“Your house is only forty minutes from the slip road. Look, I know it’s late, but I’ve got nowhere else to go…”

He could hear Jaskier’s dramatic, exaggerated sigh. “I suppose you can come over.”

“Thanks. I, ah…” He bit his lip. “Thanks.”

“What are best friends for, hmm?” Jaskier purred. “And if you pass Tesco, make sure you buy another bottle of wine, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So…” Jaskier said, clearly trying to sound nonchalant, “What’re you doing on the A26 Oxenfurt slip road at nine thirty in the evening?”

Geralt coughed.

“What was that?”

“I was… going on a date.”

“On the A26?”

“No, in Novigrad.”

There was another pause. “May I ask… with who?”

Now it was Geralt’s turn to hesitate. Jaskier picked up on it immediately.

“Who was it, Geralt, come on. Tell me. I deserve to know.”

Geralt sighed. “Remember… Eskel’s friend?”

Jaskier swore so loudly he had to hold the phone away from his ear. A car sped past, illuminating him as he winced. When he brought the phone back to his face, he could hear Jaskier ranting.

“--warned you, Geralt, it was a terrible idea! And you go ahead and do it anyway! Well now fate has clearly intervened on my behalf, to prove to you what a foolish…”

“I know.”

“Come again?”

“I know.” He laughed. “I know it was stupid. Want to know where our date was?”

“...go on?”

“The Passiflora.”

“Geralt, no. They take bookings weeks in advance!”

“I know, Jaskier. I had to get one.”

“They take a deposit!” Jaskier said it like it was the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard. “They don’t let you in unless you’re wearing…” he trailed off. “Geralt?”

Geralt knew what was coming. “Yes?”

“Are you… and, forgive me if this is cruel, but are you currently walking down the A26 wearing a full three piece suit?”

Geralt didn’t respond.

“Oh my gods you are! Geralt!” He burst into laughter. “Oh, Geralt, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I think she just wanted to see how far she could take me. She just sent me a message about how she preferred Eskel anyway.”

“Well…” Crooned Jaskier, thoughtfully, “She may be onto something there…”

“Jaskier!”

“I’m joking, Geralt. Come now. So… it didn’t work out, then?”

“It didn’t work out.”

“Shame.”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

Jaskier just giggled at him. “So… when can I expect you?”

Geralt had begun the slog up the steep bank of the slip road. His shoes slid dangerously on the mud. “Half an hour?” He guessed, as a huge lorry zoomed past.

“What?”

“Half an hour!”

“Alright, alright, no need to shout about it. I’ll get the kettle on, shall I?”

“Please do.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“See you in a bit, Geralt.”

He tucked the phone back into his pocket. Three more cars zoomed past. He wondered, somewhat bitterly, why none had stopped and offered to help. Oh well - no use dwelling. He stared up at the hill that presented itself to him.

There was only one way up.

~

Jaskier flicked through Netflix, listlessly. He’d last spoken to Geralt forty-five minutes ago, and he was beginning to get nervous. He’d tried to call him - tried to call him several times - but was only getting his voicemail.

He tried to focus on the TV. He was not thinking about the suddenly very real and rather awful idea that Geralt might be lying in a ditch on the side of the A26, covered in mud, his sad, lifeless body lit up by the passing traffic, the only sound the roar of the--

He dialed Geralt’s number again. He listened to the dial tone, then the ring, impatiently tapping his fingers against his knee.

“Pick up, Geralt,” he muttered, the tapping growing more insistent. “Pick up…”

There was a sudden banging at the door. Jaskier leapt out of his skin, dropping the phone onto his chest. He jumped up, very nearly sending the half-full glass of wine sat on the floor next to the couch flying, and ran to the door.

He slid back the latch and pulled it open.

Geralt stared back at him.

Jaskier burst out laughing. “Oh Geralt.”

He really had dressed up for his date. He was wearing a black three-piece suit, the blazer slung over one arm. The waistcoat was unbuttoned and the perfectly tailored trousers were coated thickly with mud. In fact - most of Geralt was coated with mud: it was streaked up his leg, splashed up one arm. There was even some in his hair.

His hair which, Jaskeir quickly noted, had been tied into a rather fashionable top-knot. It suited him, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw. In fact: the whole outfit suited him, the shirt and waistcoat well-tailored to his frame, neatly outlining his torso. Jaskier very rarely got to see Geralt in a suit, and the rather lovely image was only a little ruined by the aforementioned mud.

“What happened?” He said, finally.

“I fell.”

Jaskeir’s heart swelled. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Bruised ego more than anything.”

“Shall I fetch you a cup of tea?”

“I’d rather a glass of this, actually.”

Geralt thrust a bottle of wine into Jaskier’s hands. “Oohh,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “this is the good shit.”

Geralt shrugged. “I’ve decided,” he said, kicking his muddy feet against Jaskier’s front step, “that I deserve it.”

“I think you do,” said Jaskier, grinning. “Come on, come in, go and get yourself cleaned up and I’ll find you a clean glass.” Geralt hovered in the doorway. “What’s wrong? I don’t mind a little mud, you know me...”

Geralt thrust out his other hand. Held within it, was a slightly wilted bunch of flowers.

“Oh!” Jaskier couldn’t help the little shocked noise. He knew, logically, that these had been for Geralt’s date - not for him - and yet… “They’re lovely, Geralt. Do you want me to find you a vase? These are nice, they’ll keep till tomorr--”

“They’re for you,” Geralt said, rather awkwardly. “I mean. You should keep them.”

Jaskier gazed at the flowers. “They’ve not even gotten muddy,” he said, unsure what else he could say.

“They were in my other hand.”

“Right. Yes. Ah…” Jaskier swallowed, trying to ignore the little elated feeling in his chest. “You should come inside, really. You’re making my house look messy. What will the neighbours think…”

Geralt smiled. He was about to step into the house, when he seemed to pause. “Wait…”

Pressing toe to heel, he wrenched each shoe off. Jaskier grimaced at the haphazard way he treated the clearly very expensive shoes, but decided it was best not to comment. When the shoes were removed, the socks followed - also, somehow, stained with mud. Geralt stared down at them.

“You can… leave them outside,” said Jaskier. “I don’t think anyone’s going to steal them, do you?”

“No, probably not.” With a final awkward glance at his stained clothes, Geralt stepped inside. Jaskier quickly shut the door behind him.

“Right,” he said, bustling around Geralt, “You know where the bathroom is. You head up and get as much of that muck off as you can, and I’ll find you something else to wear, alright?”

“I…”

“Go on! You’re getting mud everywhere…”

Geralt did as he was told, traipsing up the stairs towards the bathroom. Jaskier hurried into the kitchen, throwing the bottle of wine into the fridge and then filling the sink for the flowers. When they were safely submerged, he followed Geralt up the stairs, heading towards his room. He dug through his chest of drawers until he found an old pair of sweatpants and a band shirt that seemed the right size. He folded them - fastidiously - and placed them outside the bathroom door.

“I’ve left a couple of things just outside the door,” he called through the wood, “for you to get changed!”

And then, trying very hard not to linger on the mental image of Geralt standing naked in his bathroom, Jaskier headed back downstairs. He grabbed another glass from the cupboard and the wine from the fridge - only slightly cooled - then wandered back into the living room. Wine and glasses safely deposited on the coffee table, he sat back on the sofa, waiting.

He began to drum his fingers on his knee again.

He looked down at himself. He was dressed only in his pajamas, and not even the cute ones with the little shorts - the old ones that he’d picked up ages ago, full of holes in all the wrong places. And Geralt - perfect, marvellous, dreadful Geralt - had shown up in a full three piece designer suit.

Shit.

He held his head in his hands. First Virginia, now this. He could feel dutch courage buzzing in his fingers. No: he couldn’t. He wanted to, but he wasn’t going to. He did not want to get rejected twice in one night.

“Jaskier?”

He looked up. Geralt stood in the doorway to the living room, staring at him.

“Hrnkkkhello.” It came out slightly choked, a strangled little noise.

He’d been right, at least: the clothes he’d chosen for Geralt fit him. Just. The sweatpants - well - they fit well enough around the legs, but the higher they went the tighter they got. The thin fabric clung to his arse, and left absolutely nothing to the imagination anywhere else, either. Even the shirt, which Jaskier had always thought was at least a little baggy on himself, clung to his arms like it was painted on.

Geralt seemed to notice his sudden distraction.

“Jaskier?” He said, coming closer, “you okay?”

“Hmmmyes, fine,” said Jaskier, quickly. “Wine?” He grabbed the bottle and the glasses, trying to find anything to distract himself.

“Please,” said Geralt, slumping onto the sofa next to him.

Jaskier smiled, going to unscrew the lid, then realised.

“A cork?” He said, “very fancy. Hold on…”

He picked up the bottle and headed into the kitchen, glad for a brief respite from Geralt’s maddenly sculpted figure. He rooted around in the draw for the bottle opener, then quickly got to work at unstopping the bottle. The cork came out easily with a satisfying little pop.

Jaskier sighed, grabbing onto the counter top. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

His eyes fell to the bunch of flowers, still sitting in the sink. Keen to find something to do with his hands, he grabbed a vase from the shelf on the other side of the room and filled it with water, then grabbed the bouquet. He unwrapped the paper and dunked the stems into the vase haphazardly. Grabbing the vase in both hands, Jaskier was about to move it to the table when he glanced, for the first time, at the actual flowers.

Red tulips. Carnations. Pink and red chrysanthemums. Huh. Geralt wasn’t one for floriography. He’d probably just grabbed whatever blooms he could. And, even then, they were meant for someone else: not him.

Even so…

He stroked a gentle finger across the soft petal of one of the tulips, velvety against his skin. He sighed.

“Uh… Jaskier?”

He spun around. Geralt was standing in the door of the kitchen, looking concerned. “Uhh…”

“What’re you doing?”

“I just thought I’d… sort out the flowers. While I remembered.”

“Right.”

“They’re… really lovely, Geralt.”

Aware he was looking a little awkward, he grabbed the vase. “Here,” he said, offering it to Geralt, “You can take this. Put it on the coffee table, would you?”

Geralt reached for the vase. It was heavy, and awkwardly shaped, and instead of grabbing the vase his hands wrapped around Jaskier’s. Oh. He knew he was blushing, knew that as soon as Geralt’s hands had touched his that his face had lit up like his head was full of fairy lights.

“Ah--”

“Um--”

They gaped at each other for a moment, then Geralt removed his hands, awkwardly rubbing them against his sides.

“I’ll, ah… get the wine, shall I?”

Jaskier nodded, and Geralt rushed past him towards the counter top. Without looking behind him, Jaskier darted back into the living room, taking longer than was strictly necessary to find the right spot for the flowers atop the ring-marked coffee table. He was sliding it into place when a full glass of wine was placed next to him with a gentle clink. Without looking up, he heard the sofa sag behind him, Geralt’s content murmur as he sank into the soft cushion.

He grabbed the glass, and rose back to his feet. Geralt was leaning back against the sofa, the glass of wine hanging lazily from one hand, his legs spread just enough to make it indecent. Jaskier took a long, slow sip. And then - barely thinking - he dropped down onto the sofa next to him, pressing his shoulder against Geralt’s side, the glass held in his other hand.

“So,” he said, finally.

“So.”

Jaskier took another sip of wine. “It appears,” he said, slowly, “we’ve both been quite horribly rejected this evening.”

Geralt looked down at him, slumped against his arm. “My car broke down. I wasn’t rejected.”

“No? Just me, then.”

They lapsed into silence once more. Jaskier’s gaze kept drifting to the bouquet of flowers, sat innocently on the table.

“Tell me, Geralt…”

“What?”

“Do you know what red tulips mean?”

He shifted against him. “I can’t say I do.”

“I thought as much.”

“Why?”

“No reason.” Jaskier moved, sliding himself back along the sofa. He was too close, too intimate - suddenly struck with the need to move away from the madding touch of Geralt’s skin on his.

And then - Geralt’s hand was on his, his finger’s lacing between his own, his thumb gently rubbing across his skin. He hadn’t even turned to look at him - still staring at his wine glass. “Do you know?” He asked, apparently innocently.

“I… yeah.”

“Will you tell me?”

Jaskier trapped his bottom lip beneath his teeth. “Perhaps,” he said, “But I’m going to need another glass of wine first.”

[getouswh0re]

pairing: kirishima eijirou x reader

genre: yandere, unhealthy relationships, gaslighting, peer pressure, blackmailing, mentions of school bullying, power play

synopsis: all you want is a peaceful languid life free of trouble, yet everything spirals downhill when a certain redhead wanders into your life out of nowhere. Worst of all, he isn’t planning to leave you for good.

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

one

“What is it that you want to ask me, Kirishima?” The spiky redhead sucks in a deep breath, feeling the rhythmic thrumming of his heart rising to a crescendo as he shoots a nervous glance at a nearby bush where his squad is hiding. It is going to be alright, he reminds himself. You have practiced the confession with Sero and Kaminari over and over again, all that’s left is for you to say the exact words in front of y/n again!

“I ... I know we have only been friends for a short while y/n, but I really like you! And I was thinking if there would be a chance for the two of us to try things out. Please ... please be my girlfriend! I promise I’ll make you the happiest person on the entire planet!”

For a while, silence dominates the air, leaving you shell-shocked and an extremely flustered Kirishima who turns his head away, refusing to stare at you in the eye. He cognises that this confession must’ve given you quite a bit of shock, yet he is willing to wait for you to reciprocate his feelings no matter how long it takes. Squeezing his eyes shut as he clasps his palms together, the redhead feels like he is waiting for your reply — akin to an answer from the heavens. Not until you open your mouth and what seems like an iridescent future for him has reduced to dust.

“I’m sorry Kiri ... I like you too, but I don’t think of you romantically.”

It takes you forever to muster up the courage you need to politely reject the bubbly redhead; and in all honesty, you can already feel your conscience berating you for doing so. Admittedly, Kirishima is a wonderful guy — with a bright personality, amazing quirk that would guarantee him a promising future in the hero industry. You, on the other hand, have a somewhat decent quirk as well; yet despite everyone around gushing about how great it would be for you to become a hero, your resolve towards being one isn’t as strong as your fellow classmates in UA. And you don’t want your thoughts to affect the other students in striving towards their ultimate goal. 

Including Kirishima Eijirou.

“... why?” Pangs of guilt shoot through your heart when you hears the redhead choking back sobs. “Why can’t we give one another a chance to work things out? Am ... am I not good enough? Did I annoy you? Or do you hate my hair? I — I can dye it whatever colour you want! Just to make you happy ...” 

“It’s not like that Kiri.” You place a hand on his hunched shoulders, attempting to cheer up his dejected spirit. 

“You are not annoying, nor did your behaviour put me off. You are a really nice guy to be honest, and you deserve a lot more. I’m not like you or the others ... I just want to live a normal life, and I don’t want my mentality of not being a hero to affect the rest of you who work so hard to reach for the stars. Plus, I’m sure you’ll meet a lot more amazing people like you out there once you become a professional hero ... and perhaps, you’ll find someone more deserving of your kindness and love. I wish for your happiness Kiri ... may you have the best of things coming your way in life.” 

With that, you spill out apologies one after the other, leaving the heartbroken hero-in-training behind. 

two 

Never would you have imagined that the act of turning down Kirishima’s confession eventually bites back at you like karma. 

Soon after the incident happens, words about how you reject the redhead has spread its way around the school like wildfire. Within the span of a day, you’ve become the number one gossip of the campus; wherever you go, dozens of eyes would trail after you as if they are lurking predators and you being the prey.

Many shoot you harsh dirty looks, raising their voices every time you saunter through the corridor about what an ungrateful, insolent bitch you are to break poor Kirishima’s heart into shambles. 

Insults are thrown your way, slips of paper filled with harsh messages flood your locker; and once in a while, some students would purposely stand in your way, intentionally bumping their shoulders into yours and shoving you out of the way. Even your own classmates from class A whom you’ve gone through thick and thin with side with the disconsolate male, muttering about how all of this would’ve been avoidable if you’d simply said ‘yes’. 

School has become an absolute nightmare for you for the next couple of weeks; and to make matters worse, the school authority doesn’t do much to alleviate the situation, merely giving verbal warnings about how bullying on school grounds is unacceptable before moving on with settling their own matters. You’ve tried to ignore everything that happens in school, you really did. Yet with the weight of it all come crushing down upon your shoulders, you eventually find yourself teetering on the brink of suffering from a mental breakdown. 

For countless nights you would cry yourself to sleep, burying yourself beneath layers of blankets in order to forget about the pain. Still, it does nothing to alleviate your suffering and you wake up to find the dark circles under your eyes growing bigger with each passing day. The vicious cycle continues, with you trapped in the centre of it. Perhaps this is your punishment after all — your consequence for hurting a fellow classmate who is loved by everyone. 

And maybe it’s about time you fix your mistakes before it is too late. 

“Kiri ...” You bow deeply as an apology at the surprised redhead when you manage to drag him out of the classroom during break time under the prying eyes of everyone poking their heads out from the corridor, brushing aside the mean comments reverberating in the air. 

“I’ve been thinking about it ... and I realise I’m wrong. Maybe I was too quick to jump to conclusions, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give things a try. I’m ... I’m sorry for hurting your feelings, and yes. Let’s give this relationship a try, shall we?” 

Oddly enough, the bullying vanishes into thin air once words are spread around the school that the two of you are dating. 

three

Being in a relationship with the boisterous redhead isn’t as bad as you had imagined, but you wish there is something you could do to get yourself out of this mess. Kirishima isn’t a terrible lover at all; he has been nothing but loving, kind and openly affectionate with you at all times. You would’ve regarded him as the perfect partner for life — if not the fact that he pries a bit too much about your personal space and social circle, making you utterly uncomfortable. 

You totally understand his intentions, albeit thinking that it would’ve been better if he knows not to cross certain boundaries. Regardless, every time you try to bring the subject up, Kirishima would invariably find a way to divert the topic of discussion. Still, you need to make sure he understands the message; and so comes a certain night, when you decide to sit down and settle matters with your boyfriend. 

“Eijirou, we ... we need to talk.” 

“What do you want to talk about babe?” 

“I ... I think I need a break — for this relationship I mean.” Hearing that, the redhead’s smile falters. 

“Why? I ... I thought everything was going perfectly! You’re happy, I’m happy. Isn’t that good enough for you?” 

With tears squeezed forth from the pro hero’s waterline, he lunges forth to grab at your arms, nails digging a bit deeper into your skin than a normal lover should. Despite wincing at the pain, you shift your gaze away from your crying boyfriend, reminding yourself of the inordinate number of occurrences that Kirishima has guilt-tripped you into pushing your boundaries. Seeing the unfazed expression on your face only makes chagrin seethe in the redhead’s chest even more. You love him just as much as he loves you, right? Why would you go to such lengths to destroy everything? Why would you risk all that there is to tear yourself away from his life? 

“Tell me babe ...” The rawness laced in his voice is more than evident to drive your frozen heart on the verge of breaking, his unanswered pleas coming out as a broken record. “Do you hate me that much ... that you want to leave?” 

Taking your silent nodding as a yes, Kirishima’s chest aches more than ever. Being a professional hero is never easy; the weight upon his shoulders increases excruciatingly as he steadily climbs up the ranks. Together with shouldering the guilt of the lives he once failed to save, the suffocation is immense. You are his elixir, his solace every time he returns home battered and utterly drained day after day of repetitive villain fighting. Your presence is all that it takes to save him, and he has become a hero — your hero. He has dedicated his all to protect the city.

So why couldn’t you just do the same for the sake of his sanity? 

“... I understand.” Pulling himself out of his pensive mindset, the redhead finally compromises. “But I have one last request: there would be a hero gala this Friday, and all I want is for the two of us to go as a couple for one last time before this relationship ends. Would ... would that be fine with you?” 

You agree without hesitation, relief surging through you as if a weight has been lifted off your chest. Your wishes have finally been answered, and freedom is just within arm’s reach. 

Or so you thought. 

four 

You hate him for putting you in the limelight. 

Still, you are to blame as well. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so gullible in the first place, believing that Kirishima Eijirou is a man of his world. 

Staring at yourself in the mirror, a wry grin adorns your face as a team of makeup artists and hair stylists prepares you for the grand wedding, gushing about how lucky you are to charm your way into the chivalrous redhead’s heart and the privilege for you to be his one and only blushing bride (except that all of this is out of your own will — more like enforced onto you). Despite being dressed in the most elegant wedding gown you’ve ever seen and having your features accentuated with powdery makeup, you don’t feel elated to the slightest. Most girls would be thrilled on their wedding days, yet you couldn’t even bring yourself to smile. 

If you had unveiled Kirishima’s lies, would all of these happen in the first place? 

“Everyone ... there is something I would like to announce.” Having said that, the hero gives your hand a gentle squeeze whilst the two of you walk onto the podium situated at the centre of the banquet hall where the gala is held. Thinking that the redhead is about to reveal the breakup to the others, you don’t have much on your mind at that particular moment — that is. 

Not until the entire outcome of the jamboree changes completely when Kirishima gets to his knees without warning and pulls out a shimmering diamond ring before you even get to scream at him about what the fuck is going on. 

“y/n ...” Deceptively adoring eyes that make your stomach churn bore into the depths of your betrayed ones as the redhead shamelessly plays his trickster part well, ignoring your hushed protests while he pulls off an elaborate performance in front of the party guests, his sinister intentions masked beneath the innocent smile and corny confession of love. 

“For as long as I could remember, we have been with each other through highs and lows. You are everything to me and I wish I could cherish this bond for a lifetime ... would you make me the happiest man on earth — and marry me?” 

That son of a bitch —

Following that, claps and cheers resonate in the expanse of the arena, overshadowing the choked sobs ripped from none other than your throat. You should’ve expected this, for a lovesick bastard like Kirishima to resort to such abject measures when he runs out of options to make you stay by his side, forcing you to accept his proposal under the pressure of the gathering crowd. 

You hate him.

You despise him more than anyone else. That said, it isn’t like you have a choice to get yourself out of this predicament; and with a heavy heart, you could only follow along the scripted play, feigning tears of joy as you reluctantly mumble your response. A cheeky smile stretches across your fiancé’s face as he does what every engaged couple would do: slipping the ring onto your finger and showering you with kisses whilst surrounded by incessant blessings of fellow pro heroes and friends alike. 

“You look stunning today, love.” Catching a glimpse of slicked vermilion hair, you cannot think of an alternative response other than flashing the grinning groom a prominent scowl. “Now don’t give me a face like that. It’s our wedding day, we should be happy right —”

“Cut the bullshit.” You spit with raging fury, tears rolling down your face as you back away from your husband-to-be. “You’ve ruined my happiness and my future, yet you have the audacity to act like this? To be all smiles in front of me? I never want to be with you in the first place Kirishima Eijirou! Hell — I never want to date you!” 

Your words pierce his throbbing heart, but the redhead can’t care less. Taking a step closer at a time, he easily towers over you; tenderly caressing your stained cheeks, Kirishima gives his final warning. 

“Love, it’s my word over yours. Who do you think people would believe? An up-and-rising pro hero, or a civilian like you? Also, even if you manage to leave me, how long do you think you can sustain your own living out there? I wonder if anyone would hire you ... if I told them every bit of info I have on you —“

Pupil-blown and legs shaking, you fall limply beneath his intense stare. 

“You ... you wouldn’t dare!” 

“Oh yes I would.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Kirishima saunters out of the door. “Now ask your stylists to touch up on your makeup, wouldn’t want to look like a crying mess on your special day. Would you?” 

[pluviophile-bookworm]

HSMTMTS 2x10: New and a bit alarming... ok, very alarming

I don't even know at this point if I'm more nervous or excited for this episode. I've done my waiting and, well, whatever lies ahead, good or bad, or a little bit of both, I just can't wait anymore, even though I haven't been so scared to press play since... well, since last week. Guess I should just go for it, then:

Ooh, shady Seb doing the recap! We love to see it. Like, seriously, I'm anxious about the Seblos fight, but shady Seb is kind of my new favourite Seb.

I just... Ashlyn's acting is top tier. Emotional connection to the material? Superb! Chemistry with her co-lead... well, he'd have to be co-leading for any chemistry to be possible. I love Ricky, and I feel for him with all he's been through, but he's just not lead material right now. And it shows. Especially next to Ashlyn, who is killing it!

Miss Jenn is on the verge of a bloody mental breakdown and I just... wish I could do something to make things better. She reminds me of my mum when a deadline approaches for her to submit an article, and I just feel for her right now. Gosh, I'm feeling for everybody today. My empathy seems to be at its peak and I might just burst from all these emotions this episode is making me feel even before the 5-minute mark.

Ok, but Miss Jenn being stressed means Carlos is stressed for two, which means... this is a really bad time for him and Seb to have personal problems. My heart just can't handle it.

Wow... I never thought I'd see the day! The two leads are actually talking to each other! This is a mid-July miracle!

Why does everyone keep pretending their HSM was good? It was a flaming hot mess! A child could see that.

Miss Jenn needs a lot of work on her 'gracious face'. I, like Carlos, have quite some notes. Only mine aren't exactly, how do you say... verbally formulated quite yet.

Did Carlos just refer to Miss Jenn as 'mother'? Because yes.

I've been in a couple of local theatre productions in my day, but none of them had actual physical sets — we relied on the audience's imagination quite a lot — so I wouldn't know what a good set is made of... but even I can tell that plywood and Elmer's glue = not good.

Kourtney is a multi-tasking icon and we love her. I feel like I don't say this enough, but she deserves all the love.

Ooh, shady Seb is... well, shady! 'Quit school and get a job at the pizza shop?' — I mean, you don't see Reddy or Kourtney (or Howie, for that matter) quitting school in order to work at the Slices! Those kids juggle it all and, as someone who's never had to balance school and a job all at once, they have my deepest admiration.

Still, I think they should have thought about 'inventing' something re: transformation earlier than this point. The personal drama has taken up too much of their time.

Why does everyone keep inviting people over to Ashlyn's? I mean, it's not like I've ever heard her complain, but the girl needs some rest! And her house is not a public space.

Oh, so they're making this into a contest? I mean, I have never been a fan of competition, but to each their own. And Redlyn are hosting! This is going to be so beautiful! (You know, unless the boys try to sleep — see my post from yesterday about Reddy's background noise machine)

'I'm not worried. But North High should be!' Ooh, I love this look on Ashlyn! See, there's a lead to take notes from! And Ricky should be the first to do so. Take notes about what a lead acts like, I mean.

Oooooh, Big Red claps back! We love to see it. Although, you know, it stems from the fact that he's nervous about coming up with a solution to the transformation problem. 'I get bossy around the power tools' — Yes, sweetie, and I love that look on you. Maybe you should be around power tools more often, if that helps.

Ughhh, look what the cat brought in! Lily (I wish I knew her last name so I could refer to her by it exclusively, but we'll have to make do). I hate that girl. She reminds me quite exactly of the girl who bullied me in seventh grade to the point where I wished I'd die before having to deal with her at school again. She and Lily both bring out my aggressive side, and I hate that about them.

Ricky — 'so good at being a leading man'? I don't know what Lily is playing at here, but Ricky has not shown himself to be a very good leading man this season. He has the potential to be, but he has not fulfilled it by this point. Sure, he supports his friends and they support him, but that's basic decency. Not yet good leadership. No hate on Ricky, just the truth.

'I vaguely remember him' — please tell me this is setup for Ricky leading Lily on and then slamming the door in her face with the truth. The way I see it, he's been given a chance here. A chance to be the supportive, protective best friend Big Red deserves. I just... have a lot of ideas about this and I don't want it to end badly instead.

'I'm just not well-liked here, and I don't know what to do' — well, of course you aren't well-liked, you little— (ok, ok, calm down, breathe, 10, 9, 8...) whatever. I mean, she hasn't even considered basic decency, as it seems. Must be a new concept to her.

'Don't start with me, Carlos!' Wow. As much as I hate it that my two faves' only interaction in so long is so hostile, I kind of like this side of Big Red. I wonder what other sides of himself he's been hiding.

Listen, I don't like Seb being patronised and babied, but... 'Chip, this is your mother speaking: go call your mother!' made me laugh so hard. They're leaning into the on-stage family dynamic and I live for it.

EJ's idea of using old skateboards for the spinning contraption is... a brilliant callback to the fact that Ricky and Big Red were first characterised as skateboarders... you know, before diving headfirst into the theatre thing. And it feels like it might actually work.

Miss Jenn's excitement at seeing Mr Mazzara ('Benjamin!!!') is perhaps only topped by the fact that he was halfway home, got a text from her and instantly went back to the school. I mean, these two have something that's really big.

Miss Jenn referring to the kids as 'my children', combined with Carlos calling her 'mother' earlier just warms my heart so much! Those guys really are family. I live for it.

Ok, but... as clear as it is that the Wildcats are very far behind NH in terms of budget, rehearsal time and who knows what else, I hate seeing Miss Jenn resigned to them losing. I want to see her have faith in them, talk about how they will win, and, in her own words, 'trust the process'. I mean, I guess it's good that, as a teacher, she wants to prepare her kids for a possible defeat (and I mean really possible if they don't step up their game immediately, especially some of them * cough* Ricky *cough *), but a team that goes out to the field expecting to lose has a very minimal chance of winning.

Despite everything I've been saying again and again about Nini lately, the fact that she just delivered a very different 'No, Seb' has just redeemed her. See, this one wasn't dismissive or patronising — this was like, 'no, Seb, don't put yourself down' and I love that spin on the catchphrase I'd grown to hate. See, many things can be redeemed. And some simply cannot. * cough* Devil's spawn Lily *cough *. Also, Seb being self-conscious about the fact that Carlos 'doesn't have many options' at East Hight is the perfect setup for In a Heartbeat — meaning they will either have a chance to talk about their issue, or they have a telepathic connection, in which case, what kind of soulmate stuff is that?

'You're my sister; he's my cousin' — yeah, Ash, putting it like that makes it sound a lot weirder than it should, but I do get what you're trying to say. This is not a drill! Ashlyn is a Portwell shipper (heck, maybe even the captain of that ship) — but I feel like we already knew that.

'Why'd I never hear about this?' — and there it goes. Within the same scene, Nini was redeemed and then made aggravating again. What does she care if Gina thought Ricky sent her chocolates? He didn't. Because he and Gina can't be anything but very good friends. And I feel like good friends is what Gina needs. Maybe that's why I wanted EJ to be that for her initially (or it was because I'm aroace and don't tend to notice romantic attraction between fictional characters — or real people for that matter — unless it's explicitly stated to be there). But I've been on board of the majestic S.S. Portwell for a few weeks now and it's finally about to set sail.

Yeah, Nini, get a root beer, calm the heck down and get over it!

'Your other clockwise!' — Why does this even need to be said? How many 'clockwise's are there? I absolutely understand why Big Red gets the way he gets around power tools. I'd be on edge too, if the people I was trying to work with didn't know what way clockwise is. Still, I feel like by the time I'm 30, nobody younger than me would have a reason to know what way clockwise is, and I don't know if I feel bad or neutral about it.

Oh, so there's no telepathy involved in Seblos' problem resolution — it's been Redlyn's good communication all along. I might have known.

Ooh, Portwell is being discussed on both sides! PORTWELL NATION HOW WE FEELING

Nini? Why is everything about Nini? There's no way everything is about Nini. In all seriousness, though, EJ's worries about letting the next girl go seem valid in regards to Gina, given that she explicitly stated (though not within earshot of EJ or anyone who could have tipped him off) that she needs someone who will show up and stay. But they'll figure it out. They'll find a way. I know it. They will, or I will riot, and I know I won't be alone in that.

Ooh, Howie is giving Kourtney the original blueprints! Looks like Reddy isn't the only one who has a spy on the inside.

Ahhh, Ricky! Not 'Let You Go' again. I haven't cried to it in three days and I was not ready to break that streak. But... wait, this is where Carlos approaches Ricky to ask him for help with writing a song for Seb, isn't it? I am definitely ready for this.

Oh, is it... is it Ricky who suggests Carlos write a song for Seb? Now that is what a good leading man looks like.

'I'm adjusting to being called bro' — me too, Carlito, me too. But... this scene must have been so emotional for Josh, given that he hadn't come out yet. I remember him crying during The Climb and... all I'm saying is I want Ricky to come out at some point, too.

Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh... they were just talking about love languages and that's when Carlos shows up? Cinematic. Wait, there's Portwell too? This is what dreams are made of.

My oh my oh my! Risotto! For real this time. I might have just teared up. (Full disclosure: I did.) I've only had Portwell for about three weeks, but if anything happens to them, I will... you know how the meme goes. [side note: Wait, when I said 'for real this time', I was not expecting EJ would say it, much less word for word. Am I... writing this show now? It's usually my dad who predicts people's lines in TV shows]

'Not that I know of'... excuse me while I hyperventilate! These two are literal soulmates. They might share a brain, too, for all that I know. Portwell nation you ok guys?

I love that Ricky helped Carlos out with this song and is supporting him through it, but... I just might have preferred for him not to be there. I kind of need Seblos to have this moment to themselves. But, you know, with the way they feel about each other it might as well be like they're alone in the universe, let alone the room.

Ok, but Frankie's voice... brings out feelings in me that I didn't know I was capable of. Make of that what you will. Also, I'm not sobbing my eyes out, you are.

Ahhh Reddy my sunshine my sweet boy I love you but why did you have to cut Seblos' moment short? They were going to kiss, I know it. Oh well, they probably will, later on. Off-screen probably, but who cares? Not everything is for us to see. At least Carlos and Ricky had a moment there... Carlos calling Ricky 'bro' made me more emotional than I expected. It's like Miss Jenn says in s1: 'They're best bros, and that's a sacred thing... for reasons I will never understand'.

Ricky's acting sounds like a cat about to spit up a hairball, and it's so funny... in a scene that is supposed to be arguably the most dramatic of the entire play, that is not a good thing.

Oh my, oh my... you did not! You did not just end the episode with Ricky taking a fall from who knows how high. I was not ready. This episode was entirely too much for me. I will need 10 to 15 business days to recover from this, and we all know there aren't that many. But in the meantime you'll find me obsessively listening to In a Heartbeat for hours on end. Seriously, this episode is too much.

[toomuchtv95]

Life Saver

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Wife!Reader

Warning/s: Poorly writing medical talk, Pregnancy, Fluff 

Word Count: 2.4k+ 

Request:  Hey can you do a reader wife x Jay halstead where she had gone to check on Pat halstead when the fire happened and she somehow manages to save him and take him med but due smoke inhalation she falls into coma and the test also show that she pregnant.

A/N: I hope you do mind that I changed up the request slightly and I also did change up the plot of the episode just because it made sense of how I writing this. 

Masterlist  Mobile Masterlist

Wednesday mornings were always a little hectic in the Halstead household. Wednesday mornings you usually head over to your father in-law’s apartment to do your weekly check-in with him since Jay and his father since still aren’t talking unless it involved yelling at each other. You and Pat had been doing these weekly meetups since you and Jay had started your relationship. Pat was welcoming to you which shocked both brothers considering he didn’t even get alone with his own sons.

“Morning.” You walked into the kitchen to see your husband pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Morning, beautiful.” Jay looked up at you with a smile on his face. A soft smile spread across your face as you placed a hand on his upper arm before leaning in and giving him a soft kiss. “Want something to eat?”

“No, I’m good. I’m grabbing bagels and coffee on the way to your dad's.” You kissed his cheek as you walked over to the kitchen table to grab your gun and badge, but your work phone was missing which was weird cause that was you left it last night. “Have you seen my-” You turned around to see Jay standing next to you with your phone in his hand.

“Right, today’s Wednesday.” Jay handed you your phone before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, it usually comes after Tuesday.” You smiled at him while shoving your phone in your pocket, before clipping both your gun and badge to your waistband.

“Are you-”

“Don’t start with me.” You leaned forward and kissed his cheek before turning and leaving the kitchen with Jay close on your tail. Walking towards the front door, you grabbed your coat from the coat rack and turned around to see Jay leaning against the railing of the stairs leading upstairs. “I gotta go.” You stepped closer to Jay before leaning forward and connecting your lips to his. Jay placed his free hand on your upper arm pulling you as close as he can to him.

After a moment, Jay pulled away and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You peaked his lips one last time before pulling back. “Okay, I need to go now.” You grabbed your keys off the table near the front door before opening the door to leave.

“Be safe out there.”

“Right back at you.” You turn around with a smile on your face.

“I don’t understand.” Jay stood outside of your hospital room with his brother Will, who was trying to explain to his brother your condition.

“Because of all the smoke she took in, it caused some inflammation around her airway and lungs. When they brought her in, she was already struggling to breathe.” Will reached over to place a hand on his brother's shoulder for comfort. “The only way to help her heal and breath was to put her in medically induce a coma.”

“A coma?” Jay was still confused about what was happening. “Is she going to wake up?” Tears formed in his eyes as he glanced over at your body that had wires connected to machines and a tube down your throat to help you breathe.

“She needs time for the swelling to go down around her airway before we can wake her up. She on a bunch of medicine to help. We are hoping that it’s no longer than a week.” Will looked at Jay who was on the verge of a breakdown and the other new he had to share he wasn’t sure how he would take it. “There’s more.”

“What do you mean there’s more?” Jay was aggravated not at his brother, not at you, just at the situation. He never imagined that this could happen. Sure, you’ve been shot at, broke bones, consciousness, and everything else the job came with, but never this.

“There is some good news out of this.” Will looked over at your body with a small smile on his face. “Her blood work came back, and everything came back in range for her condition except for one thing.” Jay looked at his brother waiting for the shoe to drop. What else could he possibly have to say to make this better? “Y/N is pregnant. She’s about 6 weeks along.”

“Wait what?” Jay was in complete shock because the two of you weren’t even trying for kids at least not anytime soon. Sure, the two of talked about kids and you both wanted them but the two you just got married within the last years and still were enjoying being married and just the two of you.

“You’re going to be a father, Jay.”

Jay couldn’t even wrap his head around what was happening, and once Jay turned to look at his wife, it hit him. “I’m going to be a father,” Jay whispered. “Wait, if she’s in a coma and-”

“The pregnancy is early enough to where the smoke inhalation didn’t do any damage to the baby. And for her being in a coma, it won’t do any harm to the baby either.” With that said, Will’s pager went off, notifying him he was needed back in the ED. “She got all those people off that floor, including dad. And before you go on a rampage, know that no matter who was on that floor she would have done it regardless. It’s her job as the first responder to jump into action.” Before leaving Will pulled Jay into a hug before letting him know that he would be back later to check on her.

Taking a deep breath, Jay walked into your room and stared at your lifeless body. Grabbing the chair, he pulled it over to the side of the bed and took your hand. “I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but Will says that you might.” He closed his eyes as he tried to hold back his tears. “I love you so much and need you to pull through this. I need you. You are my lifesaver. If it weren’t for you, I would still be in that dark hole that I was digging myself into.” His chest heaved with a quiet sob, and tears welled up behind his eyelids, slipping down his cheeks without resistance.

“On the bright side of all of this, Will did deliver some shocking yet good news.” Jay squeezed your hand tighter. “It looks like it’s not just gonna be the two of us anymore.” A small smile formed on his face as he thought about becoming a father. “So, you need to make it out of this because I can’t do this alone.”

It’s been almost a week since you were brought into Med and you were still in a coma, but Will assured Jay that things are moving in the right direction. A couple of days ago, they had taken the breathing tube out, because the swelling around your airway had gone down enough to were you were breathing on your own. There was still some swelling around your lungs, but the medication you were on was helping and it was going to take some time for it to heal. On a positive note, today was the day they were going to wake you up because of all your vital signs where they were needed to be to wake you. They had a few hours until they were going to wake up, so Jay decided to run around and get some errands done.

“Here again, pops?” Will walked into your room to check on you when he saw his father sitting in the chair next to your bed. Ever since you been in the hospital, Pat had to visit you every day and just sat there with you. Since the fire Jay and his father have gotten along a lot better than they used to. Pat was thrilled to learn that he was going to a grandfather and being trapped in that fire, just made him realize that life is to short to be picking stupid fights with his sons.

“Well, I wanted to be here when they woke her up.” Pat placed the newspaper he was reading down on the table near the bed before looking up at his son.

“It’s gonna be a couple of hours.” Will walked over to the machines to record your vitals.

“I don’t mind,” with that said, Will mentioned to his father that Jay should be here in a little bit before disappearing to treat his other patients. Pat looked over at you with a small smile on his face. “I know I’ve never said this before but I’m glad you came into Jay’s life when you did. If it weren’t for you, he would still be in a dark place. When he returned from the war he was in a dark place and then you came around and his whole world was flipped around. I’m just glad that he manned up and told you how he felt.” Pat let out a dry chuckle at the last part. “I’m glad I have you as a daughter and I couldn’t be more thrilled to become a grandfather.”

Hours passed and it was finally time to wake you up and Jay was more than ready. “Once we lighten the sedation, she may or may not wake up right away, it’s perfectly normal. It could take a while.” Will handed Jay the paper for his consent. Once Jay signed the papers, Will motions for the nurse to inject the medicine into your IV. “I’m going to go find dad. He wanted to hear when she woke up. Give it time. She will wake up.” Will patted his shoulder as he left Jay alone with his wife.

20mins passed and you were still not awake, but Jay was staying positive. Jay was staring out the window with his arms folded against his chest. “Jay…” Jay snapped his head in your direction and when he saw that you were awake, he sprinted over to you. You glanced over at the water on the bedside table which Jay took as his cue to give you some water.

After taking a few sips of water, Jay put the cup back on the table and stood by your bedside while stroking your hair. “What happened?” You spoke in a low tone almost a whisper.

“You’re at med.” Jay sat on the edge of your bed holding your hand. “Do you remember what happen?”

“I remember I was having breakfast with your dad and then there was a fire.” You let out a soft cough which caused your throat to ache. “Then I remember the ambulance ride to med, but that’s about it. How long was I out for?”

“Sweetheart,” Jay's face softened, and you knew Jay too well to know that something was wrong.

“What is it, Jay?”

“There’s no easy way to tell you this,” Jay took a deep into your eyes before continuing. “Because of the smoke you took it, both your airway and lungs were inflamed. You were struggling to breathe when you came into the ED and the only way to help you breathe and heal was to put you in a medically induced coma.”

A coma? How long have you been out for then? “Jay, how long?” You weren’t sure you wanted to know, but you knew you had to know.

“A week,” you were in complete shock. You struggled to sit up on your own, so Jay lightly grabbed your one arm and used his other arm to place behind your back to gently move you to sit up.

“How’s your dad? Is he okay?” Jay gave you a soft small, knowing that was going to be your first question. You always put other people’s needs before you, which was one of the reasons why fell in love with you all those years ago.

“He’s fine. Suffered a little smoke inhalation. He was here every day for the last week, sitting here with you.” Jay reached over and stroked your cheek with his thumb before moving a strand of hair behind your ear. “When I heard about the fire at dad’s apartment building, I got really worried. I thought I was going to lose you.” You could sense that Jay was holding back something else and just as you about to ask, Jay spoke up. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“Jay whatever it-”

“We are going to be parents sooner then we planned.” You looked at Jay with confusion. “Your about 7 weeks along. And before you started panicking about the health of the baby because of the smoke, Will said that the baby is perfectly healthy.”

As you sat there, tears formed in your eyes not out of sadness but out of joy. You looked up at Jay and all you could do was use whatever strength you had in you to pull Jay in for a passionate kiss. Jay returns the kiss with everything he had. After a moment, Jay pulled away slightly and rested his forehead against yours.

“We are going to be a family.” You rested your hand on his cheek before planted another soft kiss on lips. “I love you, Jay.”

“I love you, more.”

[luciesbabyboy]

The Letter.

Something momma and me wrote together, the background to this is fact, the solution is pure fantasy. But OMG this was such fun to write together.

Steve came home to an empty house after 21 days working away. It had been the longest stretch working away and he was completely broken. His wife had sent him a message earlier saying she was sorry she wouldn’t be there when he got home from his flight, but not to worry she would be home at 9pm, she was just having coffee with an old friend.

He made himself a cup of tea and sat down on the sofa and flicked on the TV. His eye was drawn to the fireplace and an plain white envelope with “Darling, please read me” written in his wife’s handwriting

Having picked it up he returned to the sofa and gently prised open the envelope, his nostrils caught the sent of his wifes perfume and he smiled at the thought of her. He opened the letter and began to read.

 “Darling,

First, let me tell you how much I love you and how proud of you I am for everything you do. You make me feel so loved and our time apart is only made so much better when we are together. However, I’m really worried about you. I know you’re not telling me the whole truth about the hours you are putting in, but I know as you read this letter that you are completely destroyed mentally and physically and its will take you days to recover. But you’re not recovering, you’re surviving, you’re not eating properly, you’re not getting the sleep you need, you’re not getting any exercise, you’re waking up, going to work, eating crap to feed your depleted energy, you’re working 15 hours a day and 7 days a week and you’ve just done this for 21 days. How you’re not in hospital I really don’t know.

 What you have done at that business, is beyond remarkable, you’ve single handed built it to an extremely successful, profitable business, but you have to look after yourself. If you don’t I fear you’ll self implode. I’ve seen you when you come home from a tough period away and I can tell you’re just minutes from going down the drain. How you recover enough to face another week is beyond me.

 We need to get you back to where you were mentally and physically 4 years ago, cooking and eating great healthy food, loving life, exercising and reading....remember how you used to soak up books, almost a book every week, and we used to sit listening to classic alums on the record player. Now you just sit down and because you’re exhausted you don’t engage with much. I understand, but we used to have so much fun, we’d spend time with friends and family or just being on our own.

 I know you’re at breaking point, and I fear that any day I’m going to get a call from your work saying you’ve had a heart attack or a mental breakdown. Thats why, this week, I contacted your CEO and she agrees with me. Again she is amazed at what you have achieved for the company and the group, but she agrees that you’re on the verge. The business will cope, you’ve built the foundations, you have got the staff in there running it, you now need to step away and relax.

 So from this weekend, with your bosses blessing, you have a 10 week leave of absence. We have 10 weeks to reset you, to get you back into a mental state that gives me confidence that you’ll not kill yourself before your next birthday.

 And I know exactly how to rest you “little man” 😊

 On the other side of this letter is a 10 week program to take you back to basics, to allow your brain and body to dump all of that stress and then to slowly build you back up. You will, if you agree, give up all responsibilities and I will make sure you are looked after like the gorgeous little man you are.

 Weeks 1 & 2

                Regressed to a 9 month old. Momma will take care of your every need, she will bathe you, feed you, clothe you, read you bed time stories, cuddle you, change your nappies, love you unconditionally.

                During this period, you are not allowed to walk, talk (9 month olds can’t do either), you communicate by using your hands and either crying or babbling. Just like a little baby. You are allowed to crawl around the house, but you are to use your nappies for their true intended purpose. No phones or computers and no tv except early learning tv like sesame street and in the night garden. Early bed times and day time naps. Me feeding you with a spoon, having all your drinks in baby bottles. Millions of cuddles on the sofa.

 Weeks 3 & 4

                My little man is now a proper handful as a 2 year old: You can toddle around the house and can use big words, but you still need momma for cuddles and everything else in weeks 1 & 2. You’re still not able to use the toilet, you can watch a few more interesting things on tv and you can play with lego and cars and colour with crayons. Your food is a less babyish, and you love food time and getting all messy with eating with your hands. You need to ask momma for everything you need, even though you can reach the counter top, cookies and treats are off limits without asking. Time out on the naughty step if you get caught doing something momma has said you can’t.

 Weeks 5 & 6

                Oh my, what a cute little 3 year old you are. So independent, but so naughty, trying to do things yourself and getting into all kinds of scrapes. Momma still has to tie your shoe laces and get you dressed and you still have problems with the potty, so momma is keeping you in nappies for a little while longer. But you’re old enough now to let momma know when you need to go poopy. Where she can undo your nappy and sit you on the big boy potty and wipe your cute little bottom after, and put you in a fresh nappy. You’ll be in a lot of trouble if you forget to tell momma you need to go number two and momma will smack that poopy bottom and make you sit in a dirty nappy to remind you what a dirty boy you are. We can now watch Disney cartons together and you’re learning your abc’s and numbers so well. You still need nap times, and momma needs to still take you for a bath, but can leave you to play with your bath time toys.

 Weeks 7 & 8

                 6 months older and such a handful for this momma. You’re getting much better at potty time, so momma has decided to let you wear pull ups. You need to tell momma when you need to go potty and she will pull your trousers and pull ups down and sit you on the big plastic potty. Little boys who are potty training still need nappies at night and you’ll be wrapped up tightly in a big fluffy nappy after bath time every night. Of course I’m sure you’ll forget about needing to go potty which is why momma will constantly ask you if you need to go, however if you say no and then wet your pull ups, you can expect momma to pull those down and put you over her knee for a well earned bare botty spanking. Momma is going to be strict with you and any rule breaking will result in a red bottom and corner time. But now you’re older you can help momma bake cookies and cakes and she’ll let you lick the spoon. Lots of cuddles with my little man and you can help momma around the house. You’ll look so cute in just your Spider man pullups and dinosaur t-shirts. It makes momma’s job of checking you for wetness so much easier

 Weeks 9 & 10

                Oh my you’ve grown up and momma is getting you ready to go “back to school” You’re nearly fully potty trained with only the occasional wetting accident. So momma has gone out and bought you some proper big boy briefs. They have lots of cool designs on them. Spiderman obviously, I’ve got several pairs of them, some other marvel prints and some basic plain colours so you can feel like a big boy when we go out. Momma is still going to ask you if you need the potty, especially if she sees you doing your little potty dance. As you’re bigger now, you have lots more responsibilities, you are big enough to put away your toys after play time is over, you can read books by yourself. You help momma clean up the house and do the laundry. And you can help her big person cooking. We have put the big plastic potty away in the cupboard and now you’re using the big boy toilet all by yourself and wiping our bottom properly after poopies. Momma is so proud of your journey to being a proper little man, but understands you still get into mischief. You sometimes still have little wet accidents in your big boy pants and that means momma will turn that cute little bottom of your red and put you back in a nappy for the rest of the day as punishment. You can go the whole night without wetting your night time nappy, but momma knows you sleep more soundly having one on, so she still gets you properly wrapped up for bed every night.

So that’s it my love. I need you to be better, to get you’re head in the correct space you can be a proper functioning adult. We’re going to have so much fun over the next 10 weeks. I’ll take you to the park, we’ll go for picnics and walk the dog and feed the ducks. You’ll get an allowance to spend on sweeties at the shops if you’ve been a good boy. You’ll get to go shopping with momma and she’ll make sure your bottom is checked when we’re out for wetness.

 Now the bad news. You’re not allowed any alcohol for the whole 10 weeks. You have to do everything momma says without questions. Any breaking of my rules will result in you getting a proper hard bare bottom spanking. You are never allow to touch your nappy at any time or play with what is in it 😊 Which brings me to “Mommas needs” Obviously momma has needs, that only a grown up can provide, seeing you naked 4 or 5 times a day as I change your nappy, or bathe you, or even when I turn that tight little butt of yours over my knee will inevitably make momma hot in all kinds of places. Therefore momma is going to need you to fix this her whenever she needs to satisfy her needs. I will take you out of your nappy and you will be allowed to be a proper man, then straight after we’ll go back to our plan.

 If you agree to this plan, and giving me full responsibility for you over the next 10 weeks, just send me a text with a “Baby emoji” and the words “I’m ready momma”

Love you so much baby boy.

 Your darling wife.

 He let this sink in for a moment, and an emotional wave came over him. He felt so loved in that very moment that he started to cry, all the stress that had built up was too much for him. With tears in his eyes he reached for his phone and sent the message his wife needed to see.

 His phone immediately buzzed back with a heart emoji and 10 seconds later buzzed back again with the following message:

 “Finally and you’re not going to like this one little bit. When I get home, I want you standing in the corner in just your underwear. I want you to get a high backed chair from the dining room and place it in the middle of the lounge. You will also need to get the paddle, the hairbrush and the cane from under the bed. I know you have constantly lied to me about the hours you are doing and I know you’ve been going back into work when you said you are tucked up in bed. So I’m going to really punish you for this behaviour so you remember what happens to naughty boys who lie to me. This is not going to be a normal spanking where I turn your bottom red and then we make love afterwards. I’m going to teach you a lesson through your bottom that you will hopefully remember. If you end up sobbing and begging me to stop then I know its working, but only I will decide when the punishment is over. You will be so thankful to be put back into nappies tonight to protect a very sore bottom when you sit down over the next few days. I’m sorry baby, but I have to show you that lies and sneaking around are not good for our relationship and I’m only doing this for your own good. Love you, see you in 30 minutes. Don’t disobey me or it will 10 times worse.

[adenei]

Day 4: January Word Challenge

A/N: This one is a Romione Half Blood Prince AU that is actually a follow up to “Why, are you scared of loving?” I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, so here we are.

**********

Stars

It was later in the evening when Hermione found herself with Ron outside once more, watching the sun set over the pond. She put the day’s earlier conversation behind her, and was trying to enjoy the time with her best friend. It was hard to concentrate in his proximity. 

She’d sneak sideways glances at his features when he wasn’t looking. The way his blue eyes sparkled in the setting sunlight, and the contrast of his red hair against his pale, freckly skin. It was cruel how attractive he was. Hermione found herself thinking often about what it might feel like to feel the hard muscles of his body against hers, with his arms wrapped around her. She never thought she’d appreciate quidditch quite this way, but thank Godric for what it had added to his physique.

Hermione tried to shake herself out of those thoughts. You’re only making it worse. There’s no way someone like him could ever fall for someone like you. And yet, here they were, watching the night sky appear before them, ready to gaze at the stars that would soon shine down over the Burrow. Wasn’t that something that couples did?

“It’s nice out tonight, isn’t it? Not too hot, for once,” he said, breaking the silence around them.

“Yes, it is quite comfortable. Though, I’m worried that when night sets in I’ll be a bit chilled.” English weather had a knack for that.

Ron couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll never understand how you can always be cold.” 

Hermione smiled as the last curve of sunlight slipped away, covering the Burrow in twilight. “It’s just how I’ve always been.”

“Well, it’s a good thing our school uniform makes us wear those robes everywhere. I’ve noticed the castle gets really drafty at night when we’re on rounds.”

“Yes, it does. I actually joked with Mum one summer about adding a fleece liner in one set to keep me warmer.”

“You and your muggle ways. Just use a warming charm,” Ron suggested.

“But then everyone would know I’m constantly cold if they walked by,” Hermione said. 

She wasn’t really sure why, but she felt like arguing with him. Not real arguing, of course, but in that playful banter that she’d come to crave from their friendship. 

“Why would that matter?” Ron asked inquisitively.

“It wouldn’t, but it’d be another reminder that I’ll no doubt be alone as everyone else in our year pairs off.”

Ron looked at her. “What makes you say that?”

Hermione gave him a slight shrug of her shoulders. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure what she meant. She was thinking about her dorm mates and the other students in their year starting relationships the previous year. She knew it wasn’t true, but some days she felt like she was the only one on her own, and was none the wiser on how to alleviate that particular issue.

“Just because Harry had a go with Cho for a bit, and Ginny seems to have blokes lined up to take her out doesn’t mean everyone’s getting together,” Ron said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows in question at him. “Since when are you suddenly okay with Ginny’s dating life?”

“ ‘M not, but I reckon I’ll get hexed far worse than any guy who comes onto her if I don’t leave it.”

“Smart choice.”

“May not say the same for you though,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?” Hermione wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right. “Last I checked, I’m not your sibling, and I don’t think I need protecting.”

“Well, you are my best friend and I don’t want any bloke thinking he can take advantage of you.”

“Who’s to say I can’t handle myself?” Hermione felt her cheeks flush. This was not where she hoped the conversation would lead, but it’s what she got for playing with fire.

“I’m not saying that! You don’t know what the other guys- you know what? Nevermind. It’s not important,” Ron cut himself off.

“The other guys what, Ron? You can’t just cut off mid sentence like that.”

He gave her a look that clearly said, ‘did you just hear yourself?’ Okay, so she’d been guilty of doing that a lot over the years. She waited impatiently for him to answer, but when he did, it wasn’t what she was expecting.

“You know, we’ll probably see some shooting stars tonight.” He had changed the subject completely.

Hermione huffed as she lay quietly on her back, and took in a deep breath of the dewey air around them. She watched the sky as Ron laid down beside her. He was close, and she could feel the heat of his hand and arm against her own.

More and more stars appeared as the sky grew darker. It always amazed Hermione with how many they could see out in the country. It was so different from the city life she’d grown up in.

They must have been looking in the same spot at the same time, just as a faint flash darted across the sky. “Look, there! Did you see it? Shooting star, make a wish,” Ron said eagerly.

Hermione nodded as she smiled. His excitement was contagious. “Yes, I did.” She closed her eyes and made her wish. When she opened them she saw Ron had propped himself up on his elbows.

“So, what’d you wish for?” She could barely make out his lopsided grin from the faint glow of the lights in the house behind them as he asked the question.

“I can’t tell you that. Everyone knows if you share your wish it won’t come true,” Hermione laughed as she rolled her eyes at him.

“So, that means your wish is something that can happen?” Ron teased her. Her face fell slightly, and she could tell he regretted his words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just something my brothers would say to Ginny and I when we’d all come out here. It was just a way to get us to give away our wishes.”

“No, you’re right. Wishes are just that,” Hermione said with a sigh. “No one could ever want me anyways.” She figured that even if he didn’t share the same feelings for her, she could trust him with that piece of information. He was her best friend, after all.

“What?” Ron asked, his tone serious now.

“Nevermind, it’s nothing. I just wished that I might get a boyfriend of my own this year. See what all the fuss is about.”

“That’s not impossible, though.” Ron said quietly.

Hermione gave a most ungirly like snort. “Have you looked at me lately? I’m not exactly Lavender and Parvati. Who in their right mind would choose me when I’ve got those two as my dorm mates?”

“Hermione, does this have anything to do with what we talked about earlier?”

“What do you mean?” There I go again, all but pouring my soul out to you and you completely change the subject by bringing up a different conversation, Hermione thought. 

“The whole scared of falling in love thing.”

“I’m not following, Ron,” Hermione was stifling back the scream of frustration she desperately wanted to let out. Could she ever get a straight answer out of him?

“Just what you said about not measuring up to the other girls, which I don’t think is true, by the way, and what you mentioned about being scared to fall for someone who doesn’t fancy you back.”

Hermione thought about what Ron had said. Maybe she didn’t give him enough credit. Those two things were definitely related. “I guess you’re right.”

“Well, I wouldn’t pass it off. You never know...the person you fancy might surprise you,” he said as he looked back up at the sky.

She was gaping at him. Did he know? Had she given herself away? The sheer panic was enough to make her want to jump up and run back into the house and avoid him for the rest of the night. Miraculously, though, she stayed rooted in her spot. And perhaps even more amazingly, she came up with a witty retort. 

“And how would I know if that person fancied me back?”

She heard him take a deep breath in and exhale slowly. “Well, for one, he’d enjoy spending time with you. Even if it meant giving up a whole beautiful afternoon to revise in the library.” 

Her mind was instantly thrown back to the week before O.W.L’s. She was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and Ron had offered to go with her to the library to help her study. It was one of the few times he’d offered instead of being asked. Hermione felt her heart begin to beat faster in his chest as she waited for him to continue.

“He’d also make sure you weren’t overworking yourself because you have a tendency to do that, you know. Making sure you take breaks, actually show up and eat your meals. Oh, and even though you don’t need any more to do, he’d still help with the crazy groups you think up.” Ron grinned at her.

She had no doubt in her mind that he was referring to S.P.E.W. and the DA. “Anything else?”

“Well, I’ve been told that it’s fairly telling if a bloke gets a girl some fancy, personal gift for her birthday or Christmas. Might mean a bit more than, say, a planner.” His eyes averted her gaze at this last one, but she could hear the playful sincerity in his voice as she thought back to the bottle of perfume he’d given her for Christmas.

“Ron…” she said in almost a whisper. It was quiet, save for the rustling of the trees in the soft breeze and the occasional cricket in the field beyond. She was sure that he heard her.

“I’d say those are pretty good ideas of whether someone fancies you or not. You wouldn’t happen to have any tips for me, would you?”

Hermione stared at him. Her brain was past the point of mush and she couldn’t even begin to comprehend putting something so clever together without spilling her heart out to him. “Only one thing comes to mind,” she said softly.

“Yeah? Are you gonna share, or keep that secret to yourself?” Ron asked her.

Hermione closed her eyes and hoped what she was about to say wouldn’t backfire on her. “My suggestion would be to show her how you feel...because she feels the same way.”

Neither had realized that their faces had inched closer together throughout the entire conversation. Hermione glanced briefly down at Ron’s lips before she looked up and met his eyes with her own, bravely searching for any understanding reflecting back at her. Whatever her next thought was about to be, she’d never know as she felt Ron draw closer to her. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips softly brushed her own.

That first encounter was tentative, but when Ron realized Hermione wasn’t pulling away, he leaned in again, more confident as he pressed his lips into hers. Hermione returned the kiss, though carefully trying to not come across as too eager. Gradually, they found a rhythm with the kiss, and neither wanted the moment to end.

Eventually, they did break apart, knowing that they should head inside before Mrs. Weasley came calling for them or sent someone out to stumble upon them. “We should head inside,” Ron said, as if someone needed to say what they were both thinking.

They stood up, and Ron reached out his hand and Hermione took it. She couldn’t help but smile as they walked back towards the house. Looks like wishes do come true, after all.

[jensengirl83]

Regret and Redemption Chapter eight

Dean x reader

Mechanic!AU

Word Count-2269

Warnings-Angst, language, heartbreak

Summary- Reader has left Dean and is trying to move on with her life. Can Dean prove himself and convince her to come back home?

A/N- Song in this chapter is “Don’t Know What’s You’ve Got Until It’s Gone” by Cinderella. Thank you to my beta @emoryhemsworth and all my girls and guy for the encouragement to keep going with this series. I love you all!

Amazing series cover and text dividers courtesy of @talesmaniac89​ 

Regret and Redemption Spotify Playlist

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2FX7eDSq8WEUlFyPUG1j8f?si=PZNFJlmqS42rhBuqO-Fd4g

Mary: Y/N, I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, and I understand, but Dean is not doing so well, and I hoped we could talk about what exactly happened. He has me very worried and I can’t get him to tell me much of anything. I will always think of you as my daughter, Y/N. I truly hope you will message me back and let me say what I need to tell you.

Y/N stared at the text from her mother in law, her emotions now worse than before. She’d always loved Mary and would miss her dearly, but she wasn’t sure if she should reply. Y/N was sure that Dean was having a hard time, but so was she. He was the one who’d betrayed her. He was the one who had thrown their marriage away with no regard for her feelings. The longer she looked at the text message, the angrier she became. Who gives a damn that Dean was having a hard time! Y/N had been the one who’d been slapped in the face with the worst of betrayals. Her husband had been sleeping around behind her back! She’d been nothing but loyal to him, so fuck him and his hard time!

Y/N threw her phone across the room with a scream. The raw emotions of everything had crashed down on her. She felt as if she was drowning as she fell to the kitchen floor in a heap of sobs and screams. How could he do this to her?! She’d loved Dean with every fiber of her being just to be betrayed by him. Her body wracked with sobs as she finally let the severity of their situation overtake her. She’d never felt a pain like this in her entire life, but she never loved anyone the way she had loved Dean Winchester.

Y/N had laid on her kitchen floor and cried, grieving for her loss. Her heart ached as she thought back to all the promises whispered in their tender moments together: the promises that had been shattered like porcelain being thrown to the floor, the words that ran through her head since the day she walked out on him. She missed her husband. Not the man he was now, but the man he had been: the man that would hold her close as he made love to her like she was the only woman in the world, the man who had promised her forever and meant it. She missed the way he used to love her and only her. Y/N decided then and there that those were the last tears she would ever cry for Dean.

Dean had just awoken, and his head felt as if it weighed twenty pounds and was on the verge of exploding. He’d drank himself to sleep the night before and he planned on doing it again. His marriage would be over in a few weeks’ time and he had nothing else to stay sober for. He’d ruined one of the only good things that had ever happened to him. He was being sued and could possibly lose everything he had worked for and he couldn’t care less. Without Y/N, he didn’t want any of it anyway. What was the point if he had no one to share it with?

Dean traded his morning coffee for another glass of whiskey. He threw his head back and finished the drink in one swallow, hissing at the burn as it made its way down his throat. He refilled his glass and repeated his actions from seconds ago, deciding to forgo the glass and take the whole bottle back to the couch where he planned to stay for the day. He had already called the garage and told them he didn’t know when he would be back in. There were too many memories of Y/N there, and if he had to be reminded of her, he would rather be home where he could drink himself into a stupor.

Dean stared down at the ring that was still on his left hand. He hadn’t been able to make himself take it off. Even though he had signed the divorce papers, taking his wedding band off made it all too real and he wasn’t ready for that. He was hanging on by a thread and the finality of removing his ring would drain what little strength he had to keep going.

Dean couldn’t handle the quiet any longer as he hit shuffle on his playlist. He knew he was sure to hear something that would remind him of Y/N, but he didn’t care. The memories of their time together were all he had left, and he welcomed the pain. It was the only thing that let him feel like he was still alive like he hadn’t died the day she walked out and left him alone. Dean turned up the whiskey and chugged as the tears began to make their way down his face. It became part of his daily routine to let the tears flow and wish he could go back and make different decisions. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, letting the pain and heartache consume him completely when the first notes of a song filled the room.  

I can't tell ya baby what went wrong

I can't make you feel what you felt so long ago

I'll let it show

I can't give you back what's been hurt

Heartaches come and go and all that's left are the words

I can't let go

If we take some time to think it over baby

Take some time, let me know

If you really want to go

The lyrics that filled the room had Dean singing along as his heart ached. They’d both always liked this song, but now it hit a lot differently.

Don't know what you got till it's gone

Don't know what it is I did so wrong

Now I know what I got

It's just this song

And it ain't easy to get back

Takes so long

He hadn’t realized what he had in Y/N. He took for granted that she would always be there, and now he was paying the price. Dean turned up the bottle as the song continued to play.

I can't feel the things that cause you pain

I can't clear my heart of your love it falls like rain

Ain't the same

I hear you calling far away

Tearing through my soul I just can't take another day

Who's to blame

If we take some time to think it over baby

Take some time let me know

If you really want to go

Y/N had already left and wasn’t coming back. Dean’s chest heaved with the emotion that was coursing through him. He always buried his emotions deep, but he couldn’t be strong anymore. His whole world was crumbling around him and he couldn’t keep his feelings from coming to the surface.

Do you want to see me beggin' baby

Can't you give me just one more day

Can't you see my heart's been draggin' lately

I've been lookin' for the words to say

Don't know what you got till it's gone

Don't know what it is I did so wrong

Now I know what I got

It's just this song

And it ain't easy to get back

Takes so long

The last notes of the song filled the air as Dean chugged the rest of the whiskey in the bottle. He could only wish for one more day, one more chance. He’d blown it and he had to deal with the consequences. If only everyone knew how he had planned on dealing with them, in a constant drunken stupor.

Y/N took a shower to calm down after her mental breakdown. The text from Mary was still in the back of her mind. She knew she needed to let him go and not look back, but she couldn’t help but worry. Y/N decided to give her mother-in-law a call to put this to rest once and for all. Y/N dialed Mary’s number and braced herself for the conversation she was about to have.

“Hello,” Mary answered.

“Hi, Mary. It’s Y/N,” she said with hesitation. She wasn’t looking forward to this conversation.

“Y/N! Oh honey, how are you?” Mary asked with concern.

“I’ve been better,” she answered honestly.

“I know sweetie. I’m so sorry, Y/N! I raised him better than that and I’m ashamed of how he betrayed you,” Mary’s voice getting softer as she finished speaking.

“It’s not your fault. He’s a grown man. He knew what he was doing,” Y/N wasn’t sugarcoating anything with his mother.

“He’s bad off, Y/N. I walked up on him screaming at his father’s grave and blaming him for everything last night,” Mary said in almost a whisper.

“What?!” Y/N asked in shock. Dean had only been to John’s grave a handful of times since he passed.

“I’ve never seen him that upset, Y/N, granted he was drunk, but he wasn’t that upset when John died,” Mary said, the sadness and worry evident in her voice.

“I don’t know what you think I can do, Mary. I’m not trying to be rude, but what am I supposed to do?” she asked exasperated.

“Go talk to him, Y/N. I know I have no right to ask you to do this, but talk to him and convince him to let you go without drinking himself to death! He won’t listen to any of us,” Mary pleaded with her.

“Fine! He’s not going to listen to me either, but I’ll try,” Y/N said with a sigh.

“Thank you, sweetie! I appreciate it! Bye, Y/N,” Mary said, hanging up the phone.

Y/N hung her head and groaned. How did she let herself get roped into doing this? She still had two hours before she had to meet Steven for lunch, so she decided to just go get it over with. She hoped that Mary had been exaggerating and that Dean wasn’t that bad, but she knew him too well. She grabbed her wallet and keys and headed to the door to go try to talk some sense into her soon-to-be ex-husband.

What Y/N saw when she walked through the front door made her heart ache. Dean was passed out, whiskey bottle still in hand. He looked like he hadn’t shaved or showered in days; he was a pitiful sight to take in. She walked over and took the bottle from his hand, setting it down on the coffee table as she took a seat next to it.

“Dean, wake up!” Y/N exclaimed as she tried to shake him awake.

The smell of the whiskey emanating from him made her stomach churn. She had seen him drink his feelings away before, but this was an all-time low. Y/N shook him again as he started to stir.

“We need to talk, Dean,” she said, trying to keep her voice void of all emotion.

“Y/N?!” Dean questioned as his eyes went wide at the sight of his wife before him. It had to be a dream.

“What the hell, Dean? What are you trying to accomplish here? Have you seen yourself? You look awful!” Y/N said as she shook her head.

“Hey, baby! I miss you,” Dean said as he reached out to run his finger down her cheek.

“Stop it, Dean! I’m here to tell you to get your shit together. Do you know that your mother practically begged me to come and knock some sense into you? She’s worried you are going to drink yourself into the grave and now I can see why she thinks that,” Y/N said as her voice began to crack. He’d hurt her, and their marriage was over, but seeing him like this was killing her.

“Come on sweetheart….I’m fine. Nothing to worry about,” Dean said slurring his words.

“You don’t look fine to me. You look like shit and you need to get a grip on yourself. This is ridiculous, Dean!” Y/N resorted to yelling, hoping it would make him listen because her heart was breaking seeing him so broken.

“Ridiculous?! I’m being ridiculous? I’m not the one who walked away and left me here for dead!” Dean yelled as he tried to sit up but to no avail.

“I’m not doing this with you, Dean. Get your shit together and move on! I won’t be back to have this conversation again!” Y/N growled as she stood to leave.

“I’m sorry baby! Don’t leave me, please! I love you Y/N, please come home,” Dean begged as he grabbed for her hand but was too drunk to catch her.

“I’m sorry Dean. We’re over, so please get a hold of yourself and move on. If you won’t do it for your family then do it for me, please?” Y/N said with her back to the drunken man.

Y/N didn’t give him a chance to respond before she walked out the door, slamming it shut behind her. She couldn’t let him know how seeing him like that had affected her. She barely made it to her car when the tears began to stain her cheeks. She promised herself that morning that she wouldn’t cry over him again, but seeing the shell of the man he once was had been too much to take.

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