#and whether it works or not - it doesn’t hurt to clear your tabs

[oreolesbian]

me closing all my ao3 tabs to reduce server traffic to the website:

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hii! it’s me yet again. just resending the link. thank you!! 😊

https://www.tumblr.com/little-miss-dilf-lover/740301214616616960/hi-how-are-you-ive-been-reading-your-fics-for-a

hii angel!! really loved writing this!! link - but will summarise to save the search. thanks for requesting, hope like it💌 not back yet, this was in my drafts

MISSED CALLS.

tangerine x fem!reader

summary. tangerine doesn’t answer your calls when he’s away on work. one night you think you hear a someone breaking in

word count. 968

warnings. angst!! little bit of hitting (reader hitting tan) hurt comfort bc it heals my heart and wound cleaning

The severity and extreme conditions of Tangerine's job often left you feeling vulnerable - alone hundreds of miles away as you wallow in worry. Castaway with no way of keeping tabs on him, no way of confirming whether he was dead or alive. 

This particular mission had you in all sorts of perpetual grief - in an everlasting spiral of dread as you await his calls. For the last week, you eagerly lingered by the phone, waiting for him to give you updates - anything to let you know he was okay. But you never once received a call - not even a quick, measly text.

It was late, the evening dark and quiet as you set up in the kitchen, wanting to distract yourself from the fear of him being gone by making a hearty dish - cooking your favourite meal to ease the ache in your heart.

Pulling out the ingredients from the fridge, you place them on the counter beside the board and knife, setting everything down on the surface. You pause, stopping still as you hear the sound of faint scuffling from behind the front door - the noise of heavy footsteps.

You grab the large knife from the chopping block, clutching it tightly in your fist as you back away from the window, shrinking in on yourself to minimise being seen. Without a second to think otherwise, you find yourself following the sound, territorial footsteps leading the way.

Standing beside the grand wood door, clasping the chef's knife with the blade pointing down - holding it in the angle Tangerine taught you. Stilling your erratic breath, you pause, hearing a familiar groan from behind the oak.

The jingling of keys confirms your theory, and you yank the door open, the immediate feeling of relief easing your shoulders when you see him on the other side.

"Oh my god," you gasp, dropping the knife to the floor - pulling him in for a hug. "Oh my god," you repeat, shock evident in your breathy tone.

Tangerine drops his duffle bag, gripping you tighter, hands clasping around your mid back - holding you like he didn't want to let go. "I'm so sorry," he mutters, his words full of sorrow. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, clutching you in a tight embrace.

"Why didn't you call? I was so worried," you whisper, squeezing him, relishing the feeling of his upper body. "You didn't even text... nothing," your tone subtly changes, the juxtaposing emotion of anger slowly creeping in. "You didn't text."

You back your head away from its spot in his neck, pulling away. "A whole week— nothing. How could you do that?" you remark, tone growing pointed.

"I know, love. I know—" he starts, his words soft and heartfelt though you were in no mood to hear it this second.

"That's so fucked up," you retort, trying to pull away from his tight hold. "So selfish," pushing and hitting at his chest, attempting to free yourself. "Let go— you're so selfish. You— how could you do—" you continue, words breaking when he doesn't release you - his hold still firm around you even with your hitting. "A whole week."

"Darlin'," he coos, pulling you back in. "I know," he adds, words faint as he mutters them into your forehead - clear regret in his voice.

He slips his hands from their hold on your back, moving to the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks as if to calm you - ground you. Making you look him in the eye, and only then do you really see his face, finally taking note of the cuts and scrapes and bruises marking his skin. 

"You're hurt," you mumble, teary eyes darting over his face.

He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead. "Bit of'a bosh," he weakly smiles, trying to lighten the mood.

You give him that all-too-knowing look, a faint grin lining your lips as you slip from his hold, weaving your hand into his. Leading him into the kitchen, you guide Tangerine to the table, making him sit. 

You rummage the cupboard under the sink, collecting the medical kit and a glass of water - setting it all down on the table before washing your hands. You pull out a chair beside him, dragging it closer to take a seat.

You tear open an antiseptic wipe and carefully dap it around the gash above his eyebrow, cleaning the bloody skin. "Lucky it doesn't need stitches," you murmur, eyes focused on the wound.

Tangerine doesn't respond, not even a hum - appearing as though he was preoccupied, just intently gazing at you as you mend him. 

You part focus from his eyebrow and sift through the first-aid box. "I'm sorry for hitting you," you whisper, keeping your gaze down. "That was..." you raggedly exhale as you squeeze antibacterial cream onto your index, reaching to smear it on his skin. "That was stupid of me— shouldn't have done it," you shake your head, brushing off the thought.

His head cocks to the side in disapproval. "Don't say that," he softly scolds, his tone still warm and loving. "You don't need to be sorry... for anything."

You slump back into your seat, finally looking Tangerine in the eyes - finally meeting his gaze. "I thought you were dead," you admit, fidgeting with your fingers.

He notices your uneasy hands and places his over yours - large palms engulfing yours, the sentiment immediately comforting you. "I'm okay, darlin', I promise," he says softly, squeezing your hands. "I ain't ever gonna let that happen, okay? Ya'hear me? I will never let that happen."

"But what if when—" 

"No," he cuts you off, his single word firm and gentle. "I will never put you through that."

[alyjojo]

Twin Flame 🔥 Journey - May 2023 - Aquarius

Your Energy:

9 Cups - The Magician - The High Priestess

Regarding: 3 Cups

Your friends/family caused the issues between you, that’s being made crystal clear. It can be 50 different stories but it has to do with the people you surround yourself with, and competition involving that. Outside people. Idk if a friend likes you too, and they go up against this person. You could be a person that likes to go clubbing or something fun involving alcohol. You’re a free bird that won’t be tied down in nature generally, but something in particular on your side caused the separation initially. Something you’ve kept secret, or tried to, because you know/knew how much it would piss them off, has still caused silence and a lot of confusion between you and your Twin. Or you were planning something quietly, maybe with this person, but they don’t trust you based on other people. Something like that. Secrets + outside parties = chaos and destruction.

Their Energy:

Page of Swords - Knight of Cups - King of Wands

Regarding: 4 Swords

They ended the connection because they didn’t have a choice, you were driving them crazy. Their mental state cannot handle the kind of games you were playing with them. You may see it as harmless, but this is a very old fashioned person and they don’t understand any of this, they replay it all in their mind on a loop because they can’t understand how everything even went from A to B with you. Mentally, they’re still healing from this. Emotionally, they’ve moved on from any hurt or heartbreak, or at least they say & act like they have. They may stalk you, keep tabs, maybe they see you happy and it makes them question what your truth ever was. You make this person very insecure. It’s because of other people in the mix, both sides say it. They come up as King of Wands, someone very charming, attractive, a leader, someone that doesn’t normally sit in 9 Swords kind of energy so there must be some kinda air somewhere. They weren’t sure whether they should move on, but they knew they had to. They also don’t know if you really have. This person does want to talk and get some answers, the outcome doesn’t point that direction but they do.

Outcome for May:

9 Wands - 7 Cups - 9 Pentacles

Regarding: 10 Wands

This whole section is just this person reminding themselves why they can’t come towards you. Being your friend is too difficult, maybe even painful for them, they don’t want that. They’d like an apology but it wouldn’t mean much to them, if you gave them one they might not even respond. They’re recognizing they have other options, you clearly have other options too, they’re just going to mirror you by pulling away and chasing these other people. Something like that. The hurt caused by this connection may show that this isn’t one that can heal. This person is embodying Emperor energy, placing rules and standards on *themselves* and what they will and won’t allow going forward in any relationship. They may have had a lack of boundaries or a hard time standing up for themselves, with you. That’s all changed in their eyes. There is no movement towards you, they’re working on their independence right now, and will probably meet some other karmic with lessons along the way. You’re supposed to be apart 💯

Karmic Cards:

Mercury - Taurus - 8th House

- Communicate your beliefs as a life or death issue.

- Analyze the costs of getting and using power.

- Let your mind tell you how to use the most direct way and use other people’s resources.

Oracles:

You: Secrets

Conceal plans and actions from those not ready to accept you as you are.

Them: Preparation

Luck comes most often to the person and the place where preparation, opportunity, and skill meet.

Messages:

You:

- I am entranced by you 🤩

- Plays Too Much! 🤡

Them:

- Kind 😊

- Old Time Romance 🌹

Possible Signs:

Every sign. Leo & Gemini heavy

Also Virgo, Pisces, Aquarius, Cancer & Sag

Charms:

Saturn 🪐 on Secrets is karma, flat out. The consequences for your actions being whatever they were, even if they were secret. This person did what they had to based on what they were getting or seeing from you, and lessons came with whatever decisions they’ve made. It may feel unfair initially, but you’re co-ruled by Saturn. And one of your card energies is 7 Swords. The sneaky thief avoiding accountability...or pain. I’ll hurt you before you hurt me, steal these swords so you don’t stab me with them. Outsmart. Dodge. Avoid. It’s an air sign lesson to try to “get away” with things, and being a sign of intelligence, you sometimes do. But big things, if a person doesn’t catch you, Saturn delivers discipline directly to your door. Other people may not even know what’s going on, on a deeper level, but you do, or will. Cap is born disciplined, Aqua becomes* disciplined.

Shooting Star 🌠 on King of Wands shows this being your Twin, one you may not reunite with, and many/most Twins don’t. They’re chaotic connections that exist to light a fire in you and then send you off in your own directions to become who you’re meant to be, and something big has to happen to pull them apart in the first place. Between that event, and whatever happens afterwards, there is often too much pain, growth, moving separate directions or even other soulmates in the way of them ever reconnecting. In your case, a shooting star is a fleeting moment, it’s happens quickly and then it’s gone.

Lips 👄 on Mercury shows a lesson of yours being communication and needing to do that with your partners. I don’t see this person being open to that, but moving forward in your life. No more secrets. No more avoiding. 7 Swords flipped is complete transparency. It’s only healthy to speak up and address things, and hearing what your partner is saying too. Your cards indicate a locked up sort of person, not very open, you need to use your words. Like with Virgo, a song came up on my list that I’m being told to add, they could have that in their chart.

[songmingisthighs]

[4.11] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ you thought he didn't care, he was sure he doesn't, he had said it so himself to you. that was, until he almost lost the chance of being able to care for you.

⇁ tw : running away, mafia life (criminal/illegal acts)

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

At first, Wooyoung thought you had really ran away from him. After the fight you had the previous night, how could he not ?

"All I ask is a little bit of attention! I know you could spare some for me," you exclaimed, following after Wooyoung into the home office in his mansion. Yes, his, he never once said it was yours too so you treat it as such.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at you, "and I ask you shut that big trap you called your mouth before I shut it for you, but we can't all get what we wanted now, can we ?" He spat.

You're used to his aggressive words, it used to hurt but now the pain just comes and goes. But you're at your wit's end, he was distant when you both were first forced into engagement but he was still polite so you thought that was just the shock, but now that you're married, things got worse.

"Wooyoung," you called, leaning both of your hands on his desk aa he sit on his office chair, "it's been 8 months since we got married," he glared at you when you said that, so you sighed and change your choice of words, "since we were force into marriage... But I've been trying so hard to make this less of a chore for both of us, I don't know what else I could do! You're not even bothering to hide the fact that you hate my guts to your very core even though it wasn't my fault that we got into this! Heck, you don't even bother to acknowledge that I exist!"

Wooyoung slammed his hands down on the table, standing face to face with you, "that's right," he chuckled darkly, "I don't even bother, you know why? Because you're nothing in my life, I never ask for you, I never wanted you, you're still here because your dad's business fell through with my dad and he used you as mean of escaping because that's all you are, princess," he leaned closer to your face and spoke through gritted teeth, "a worthless burden that people toss around,"

It would've been a lie if you said that his words doesn't affect you whatsoever. Because it does.

Maybe deep down that was one of your biggest fear and having someone confirmed that made you feel sick to your stomach. You recoiled from the table, as if having been struck across your face.

Though Wooyoung had a satisfied smirk on his face, "you should know I've been planning your assasination ever since you said 'I do', I would've made it look like an accident so that my dad wouldn't be up in my ass talking about losing his insurance of control over your dad, maybe I should move the schedule up so I can get rid of you quicker,"

You stared at him for a while, not knowing that he actually hated you that much. All this time you thought it was just petty reluctance of being tied to you, but this just brought things to a whole new level.

"No..." you choked out, trying to hold back tears, "I'll take care of it myself," and with that, you ran out of his office to pack all your belongings with tears streaming down your face.

And that was the last time Wooyoung had seen you. He had heard from one of his butlers that he had seen you running around the house retrieving your things where it supposedly was earlier, you looked frantic and you hadn't even taken a second to take a break.

"And did she got out of the house today?" Wooyoung asked from his position on the couch, loosening all of the buttons on his shirt. "No, master, not that any of us know of," said butler then leaned close to Wooyoung's ears, "the cctv has been cut off, her bodyguards are dismissed, no one has tended to her nor got close to her, and I personally see to it that all windows and doors are unlocked just as you had requested,"

Wooyoung couldn't believe that he's probably a free man now, that YOU had left him so that he wouldn't be in hot water with his father.

With a glass of whiskey in his hand, he decided to look around to see whether or not you had really left while telling his maid to prepare dinner for him.

True to what he expected, he made two laps around the mansion but not once did he find you. Not even in his office with a divorce paper, as dramatic as it sound.

He finally step into his shared bedroom with you to make his final confirmation.

At first he knocked on the door, not really knowing why he did that, but when no sound came from the room he simply opened the door and walked in. He hadn't returned the night before, spending half of his night in his home office before going out with San to a bar, not realizing that it was his guilt that drove him out to drink his memory away.

Looking around the room, he couldn't really tell whether or not you had ran away. The room looked like it had been slept in the night before, he could see the spot where you laid in comparison to his side that's perfectly neat.

When he stepped into the walk-in closet, he was quite surprised at the sheer contrast to the bedroom. Your clothes thrown haphazardly, it seems like you were urgently looking for things to pack, and the more he analyze the items on the floor, the more he realized that you hadn't taken anything that was bought with his money.

But that wasn't the thing that got his attention.

It was your wedding dress that had been taken out of its garment bag, across from it, an empty bottle of wine and a box of tissues with crumpled tissues surrounding it. It looked straight out of a movie.

He walked closer to the dress and trailed a hand down it.

He remembered seeing you wear it on your wedding day. He remembered being too pissed at his father to be able to fully appreciate how ethereal you looked. He remembered how when you looked at him, he could see the redness in your eyes, indicating that you had been crying.

But over all, he remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he saw you walking closer to him. Of course, he would never admit it outwardly.

His train of thought was broken when his butler knocked on his bedroom door, "master, dinner is served," he said.

Wooyoung cleared his throat and straighten out his posture, "yes, of course, I'll be there soon," he called out.

As the footsteps of his butler fade, he carefully zip your wedding dress back into its garment bag, making sure that the dress is stored perfectly.

After that, he went to the dining room to have his dinner.

Usually, you'd be seated in your seat, across from him at the other end of the table that seats 10 people. He'd have to admit that it feels weird not seeing you smile at him after a long day of working, but he forced himself to believe that it was a good kind of weird.

Strangely, as he eat his food he felt that it doesn't match his palate, that something feels off. So he called for his head butler and asked him about it.

"Did we change cooks? Why does today's dinner taste so bland?"

His butler seemed hesitant to answer him, looking at the head maid for a bit. The middle-aged woman stepped forward from her spot, bowing slightly to avoid Wooyoung's eyes, "we did not have any change in staffs, sir, it's just that the mistress used to prepare all of your meals and considering... the circumstances, she had not prepared anything for you," she said, not even bothering to hide her bitterness that he had drove you away.

Considerably, he was shocked that you had never brought the fact up to him. But as usual, he masked his true feelings and just nod at her, continuing with his meal even though he can't seem to enjoy it.

The shock didn't stop there, though.

Over the course of the first 5 days of you leaving him, he began noticing the things that indicate your presence in his house. Or used to indicate your presence.

He never knew that you were the one who always put flowers around the mansion. He noticed this when he passed by a vase of wilting aconite. It almost broke him when he see the maids cleared all flowers, leaving an empty vase that he now associate with your absence.

He never knew that you kept tabs on food he likes and dislikes. After 3 days, he gave up on eating the food his cook made for him, firing the poor man on the spot and resorting to take outs.

He never knew that you were the one who personally arrange his wardrobe. Usually, every morning he'd find his favorite shirts or favorite sets of clothes on the front, ready for him to pick out and wear. Now that you're not here, he had to spend extra time deciding what to wear.

And lastly, he was surprised at the fact that you had never made it to your hometown.

"What do you mean she's not with her parents?" He growled at his henchmen, making them visibly scared. "W-we tried looking for her, even asking around, but no one had seen her," he explained.

All Wooyoung wanted was to hear about how you're happier without him, how you've settled back to your life without him, how he'd be assured with the fact that you leaving him was the best thing that could ever happen to you two.

Feeling that he owed this for the sake of his own closure, he ordered everyone under him to find out your whereabouts.

The desperation suffocated him, he hated the feeling.

So he ran out of his office to his garden, going to the furthest side where it is practically abandoned so that he'd be all alone to calm his mind.

What he hadn't expect to see though, was several pieces of clothes on the ground. At first he just thought that the laundry might have flown away due to the wind, but when he inspected them closer, he recognized them as yours.

"Why would these be here?" He muttered to himself as he began picking up the scattered pieces of clothes one by one. When he picked up the last piece, he noticed your suitcase by the corner of the tall wall that surround his house for protection.

The sight that made his stomach drop was a rather huge hole that could fit a person.

Wooyoung's brain put 2 and 2 together and the only reasonable conclusion made him feel like blowing up.

You had been kidnapped.

[plush-rabbit]

Skeptic Dating Headcanons

Request: soft dating headcanons for Skeptic? - F.L. Tomoyasu Chikazoku

A/N: first time writing for him!!

-

Tomoyasu can be mean and condensing. He wants perfection and won’t accept anything less. Anything less is failure, and he will not fail, not if he’s able to intervene. However, around you, he becomes considerably softer. When he’s around you, it’s the only time that someone can ever witness the high-strung man to be soft, to lower his voice and even cast a ghost of a smile in your direction when you aren’t looking.

Because of his work, he tries to keep you in the dark of the more dark and gritty parts. You know most of what he does, you see how he treats his puppets and you hear about how scary he can be, it’s only reasonable that you would learn just how dark his job can get. He’ll be honest if you ask, but he won’t give you the full details, just short and simple answers that will quench your curiosity for the meantime.

If you need something, he has his puppets attend to your errands. Even if it’s something as little as needing to go pick up a new charger or buy lunch. If he had it his way, you’d never have to lift a finger, his puppets would do whatever it is that you asked for. In the beginning, he was doing it mainly to show off for you, to witness just how crafty he was with his quirk, but now it’s him doing it simply because he doesn’t want you to get possibly hurt from the outside world, because he would rather have you by his side than doing some idle task.

As high strung as he is, as much of a perfectionist he is, when it comes to the relationship between the two of you, he is anything but perfect. He’s awkward, clumsily holding your hand and trying not to move, to keep himself still so as to not show even a hint that he would want to move away. Of course, he pulls away, fisting his hands at his side, twitching and extending his fingers hoping to reach for your hand once more, but finding himself unable to.

However, when he’s tired, he turns completely different. Whether it’s because it’s just the two of you in the room, or the work from the day has made him slightly delirious, he’s a very touchy man. He’d rest his head on your lap, his face pressed against your stomach and cling to you. Your hands would be entangled in his hair, twisting and parting the sleek hair and he’s sighing, already dozing off from your touch.

Speaking of his hair, you're one of the few people to ever see him with a different hairstyle than his usual. Early in the morning where sun peeks between the curtains, you can see him with stray hairs, parted as he grabs at the back of his head and puts his hair into a bun. Late into the night, when you’re looking up at him through bleary vision, his hair is in a low ponytail, curved over his shoulder as he holds you close to him.

Him having a high-ranking with Re-Destro, means that if you want something, he’ll do his best to get you whatever it is that you want. It helps that Re-Destro cares for those around him, that allows for you to be gifted whatever you want. Even if it’s something that you wanted in the past, he’d gift you anything, already opening up another tab to search for whatever item it is that you wanted.

While his job does often come first, with you in the picture, he often finds himself split in the middle. He wants to do good, to do the very best and show just how talented he is. Having said that, he also wants to care for you. At any spare moment that he has, when he isn’t yelling at a pawn, or tracking people, he is messaging you. He’ll call and text, and while the calls are short, he only really needs to call just to make sure you’re not feeling ill or that you’re doing okay.

With perfection in a relationship, he strives to remember all the important dates. You could forget a doctor’s appointment and he’s reminding you the night before, already having cleared your schedule for the day beforehand. It’s fine if you can’t remember something, and while it might prove to be a bit of a nuisance, he really doesn’t mind. You always thank him and kiss his cheek and he can show his indifference, but even that little gesture is enough to make him smile when he has a moment alone.

Surprisingly, he has a wide range of music that he likes. Tomoyasu gets extremely passionate about music and will play his albums in the room. It’s something a bit personal to him. While liking music isn’t some obscure hobby, he isn’t one to show anyone his tastes outside of a work environment. With you, he can sit beside you, and work as you both listen to music. His favorite part is when he introduces you to an artist and sees your excitement colored over your features as you beg to hear the song once more.

[empressapprentice]

Arcana Headcanons: Infidelity + M6

I’m back with more headcanons, and will be sharing even more soon as I have more free time! My last batch was super sweet and fluffy, these are decidedly not. I’m doing these headcanons as character study exercises, and since the LIs are so devoted to you in-game, I wanted to think about what could possibly motivate them to cheat. Not all of these involve sex because I thought that certain characters would consider emotional interactions cheating on their partner. But warning for non-explicit sexual content for several of the M6--I’d say this is PG-13. These are kind of long, but I felt I needed some good exposition to set things up. I hate how much I enjoy angst :( Feedback and requests are always welcomed: if you hate it or love it, let me know why so I can improve! Plus, check out my Ao3 here, where I’ll be posting these as well.

Asra

Asra will never, ever regret giving up half his heart for you. But one night, he can’t sleep, feeling regret for the friendships and relationships he missed out on because it’s so difficult to form connections with others. He wishes that while he waited for you to recover from the resurrection, he’d been able to let others into his life.

He’s slept with people other than you (Julian, for one), but not since you woke up after the ritual. He realizes that he can’t remember any of his previous encounters. He completely forgot what anyone other than you feels like to hold and to touch.

The next day, he tells you that he wants to take a quick overnight trip to Nopal. With such late notice, you can’t tag along. He just wants to spend some time alone and actually get to know the villagers for once, intending to practice his social skills and break the cycle of isolation he unintentionally maintained with the people there.

When he sits around the fire, eating and sharing stories with the villagers, a handsome young man approaches him. He says that he’s always had a crush on the mysterious magician, but could tell that Asra was never open to getting to know anyone. Asra, remembering that he doesn’t know what it’s like to be close to someone else, starts flirting back. Before he knows it, his lips are brushing against the stranger’s.

The moment their lips meet, Asra pulls back sharply, overcome with guilt for betraying your trust. He shakily apologizes to the young man, saying he didn’t know what came over him. He runs back to his hut, gets on the Beast and travels back to Vesuvia as fast as possible. Faust comforts him as he sobs silently, thinking about never wanting to leave your arms again.

Nadia

Nadia is visiting a neighboring territory and sitting through a very, very boring dinner with dignitaries. She’s been away from Vesuvia for a week and anticipates having to stay for at least one more as negotiations drag on. She’s loath to admit it, but she’s lonely. The letters you’ve exchanged via Chandra only make the separation more painful.

So when a diplomat approaches her with questions about Vesuvia, she’s happy to have some company. She clearly admires Nadia quite a bit and compliments the work she’s done to turn Vesuvia around.

While basking in her companion’s kind words, she unconsciously moves closer to the other woman. It doesn’t take long for the conversation to become personal, moving away from professional networking. And even more quickly, the conversation becomes flirty. When Nadia moves her hand to touch the other woman, her intentions are clear. The diplomat is flattered, but hesitant, asking, “Aren’t you married?”

Nadia is momentarily stunned by the question, but refuses to lose her composure. The lie comes easily, from years of schmoozing fellow politicians. She replies that her marriage is open. The diplomat smiles, unaware of the shame pooling in Nadia’s core. She sheepishly invites the Countess back to her room.

Though the dinner is long over and the party moved into the sitting room for a digestif, many having already left, Nadia finds herself worried how it would look for the two of them to leave together. She hates herself for worrying more about appearances than you, but she’s been particularly hungry for the feel of a body next to her in bed and she’s frustrated at not being able to get what she wants for once. So, she agrees.

She excuses herself, saying that she must retire for the night, and waits a few moments for the diplomat to leave as well.

Nadia excuses herself after the shameful act, saying she must be in her own bed when servants come to wake her in the morning. She spends the rest of the night staring at her ceiling, vowing to never tell you about her indiscretion. You find out, of course, knowing your wife too well for her to hide that something’s wrong.

Julian

One night, he goes to the Rowdy Raven and is mid-tankard of Salty Bitters while animatedly telling the story of how he helped defeat the Devil. When he finishes weaving the tale, he heads back to the bar to another drink. Before he can get his coin purse to pay, an extremely attractive stranger tells Barth to put it on their tab--payment for the entertaining story.

Julian gratefully accepts, sliding into a seat to chat with the stranger. Whether consciously or unconsciously, Julian turns his charm up even more, wanting to make sure he keeps them entertained. They swap introductions, Julian’s natural tendency to call people affectionate names and his rakish attitude being interpreted as flirtation.

As the stranger returns the affection, Julian realizes what’s happening but doesn’t want to stop it. He’s practically glowing from the kind words flowing from the mouth of his new friend and is addicted to the feeling. A nagging voice tells him he should get back home to you, but it is quieted when the stranger moves closer to him, running a finger over his chest.

The stranger downs their drink and gets up abruptly. They tell Julian to finish his drink and meet them in the alley outside, with a cheeky comment about seeing what else his mouth could do thrown over their shoulder as they walk out the back of the tavern.

Julian’s breath catches at the thought of a clandestine alleyway quickie, and he can’t deny how appealing the idea seems to him. He stares at the drink remaining in his glass, fighting a mental war over whether to finish it quickly and run to the alley.

Barth approaches Julian, noticing he was about to finish his latest drink and anticipating a request for a refill. While waiting for Julian to finish, he makes light conversation with him. When he asks how you are doing, Julian bolts upright. His face reddens at the mention of your name, knowing he made a grave mistake even considering the stranger’s offer.

Julian leaves the rest of his drink untouched. He awkwardly gets up, says goodnight to Barth and hopes that he won’t run into the stranger when he exits the Raven out the front door. Mercifully, he doesn’t, but he might not have even noticed, he was so focused on getting back to you.

When he reaches the front door of the place you share, he’s sobbing. Even though it’s late, you are waiting up for him, knowing that he often needs you to offer him water and get him to eat some food after a night out. He falls on his knees before you, utterly broken by the kindness of you waiting to take care of him, and begs you to listen to him one last time. He tells you, again, that he is no good for you and it is inevitable he will break your heart. He confesses everything that happened at the bar, his voice breaking when he says how close he was to cheating on you. He admits in a small voice that he will never be worthy of you--despite all he’s changed, he’s always one step away from hurting you.

Lucio

Lucio is dressed in a new outfit, finely made and very flattering. He is about to attend a party at his estate in honor of the summer solstice. The last step in his pre-party ritual before joining you and making a grand entrance fashionably late is to admire himself in the mirror. He poses and struts in front of it, hyping himself up for the night, but stopping short as he notices a grey hair in his meticulously coiffed style.

Moving closer to the mirror, he is horrified that several other grey hairs have popped out since the last time he dyed his hair, not long ago. Stepping back, he frantically tries to change the style to hide them, shrieking as he realizes the wrinkles on his forehead are deeper than he remembers. The time-honored ritual, which has never failed to put him in the right mindset for a night of socialization, has only made him more self-conscious about his age than ever.

He starts pacing around his room, heels clicking and mind racing. He feels a strange sense of longing for his old life, when he had no responsibilities and never worried about the consequences of his actions. He’s old now, and he wishes for the freedom and stupidity of youth.

When he makes the grand entrance with you at the party, his heart isn’t really in it. He immediately heads for a servant, demanding a glass of hard liquor instead of his usual sparkling wine. One glass turns into several, and it’s not long before he’s very intoxicated. You see Lucio drinking more than usual, but you keep getting distracted by guests and can’t figure out what’s going on with him.

Once he’s drunk enough to not care about anything--just as he intended--he makes eye contact with an attractive woman in a slinky gown and winks. His rough flirting works, as the woman comes up to him. He feels a mixture of pride and shame that he’s still attractive and powerful enough to draw someone in with nothing more than a wink.

They chat briefly, but they both know Lucio desires more than conversation and the guest is more than willing to oblige. He takes the woman’s hand, leading her to an alcove far away from the party and they begin to make out. Soon his pants are at his ankles and they’re doing far more than kissing. It’s rough, messy and fast, exactly the thing he would have done in his life before he got the plague and before you.

The woman leaves him panting when they’ve both finished. His stomach drops as he realizes that this cheap attempt at feeling young again only made him feel worse. He realizes with a start that he jeopardized the thing that actually fulfills him and makes him truly happy.

Muriel

Muriel dislikes social interactions with pretty much everyone, especially strangers. How could he possibly cheat on you when he can hardly stand to spend time around his friends?

But as he becomes more comfortable with being around people, he starts spending time around the Palace. Usually, he’s waiting for you to finish your duties with Nadia so he can walk you home or go back to the shop for dinner, but sometimes he comes early so he can spend a quiet moment in the gardens.

The more time he spends at the Palace, befriending some of Lucio’s poorly-behaved albino animals and trying to train them, the more time he spends with a certain servant determined to befriend him.

At first, they don’t even catch his attention, he’s so used to tuning other people out. But this servant notices his gentle nature and sometimes brings him some water or tea and a pastry while he’s sitting by the fountain. They claim that they’ve been trained to always serve the needs of their guests, but they’re mostly interested in getting Muriel to open up.

After several weeks of Muriel becoming used to the servant and accepting that they can be trusted, he begins exchanging a few words with them beyond a grunted thanks for the refreshments. The way the servant approaches him reminds him of you and he finds he doesn’t mind light conversation to entertain him and distract him from Lucio’s pets.

One day, he realizes with a start that he not only trusts the servant and enjoys their company, but that he finds them attractive. He panics, not knowing how to tell you. He feels so ashamed of himself for letting someone new in and he’s never felt attracted to someone like this before, other than with you. He’s confused on how to handle his feelings and how he should tell you, if at all.

He confesses the situation to Asra before going to you. Asra is very kind and supportive, saying that it is natural to find other people attractive and that it’s a good sign that he is willing to let a stranger befriend him. But Muriel can’t shake the idea that he’s done wrong by you and refuses to come back to the gardens.

Portia

Given how much Portia likes secrets and romance stories, I think a part of her would love the idea of a sneaky romance. Portia is a deeply practical person, but there are times where she can get carried away with romanticism. The thrill of getting away with it and using her knowledge of the secret passages in the Palace, etc. to hide a tryst holds some appeal to her, but she’d feel ashamed of even fantasizing about it.

She has to work on the first night of the Masquerade after the events of the game due to her new responsibilities at the Palace. Out of solidarity, you work too, creating real-time magical spectacles to surprise guests. To keep up the aesthetic, you’re both still wearing costumes and masks.

While Portia is in the ballroom, she’s fretting over the floral displays and a heavily intoxicated person knocks into her, sending the vase flying. Before Portia can even react, she falls into strong arms, rescuing her from the splashing water and strewn flowers. She turns to thank the stranger, and they say she can express her gratitude by granting them a dance. In the spirit of the Masquerade, she accepts.

She and the stranger twirl around the dance floor to a fast-paced song. The stranger is a fantastic dancer and leads Portia through the steps flawlessly. They end the song by dipping her low. The music switches to a slow ballad while the lights dim. Still breathless, the stranger pulls Portia close, and she loses herself in the moment. The ambiance is incredible, and kissing a gorgeous masked stranger at a ball could not be more storybook-perfect. Their lips touch, until a swirl of magical energy brushes her and she remembers you. She steps back from the stranger and runs off, forgetting about her duties, the flowers on the ground and the rest of the Masquerade. She feels horrible about kissing someone other than you but can’t shake the smug pleasure deep inside her that loves her fairytale romance coming to life.

[americancowgirl19]

Leave a Message

Summary: No matter how many times they call, all they get is the answering machine.

Warnings: angst, cursing, fluff, dates might not be correct (deal with it)

Reader: Sister Winchester Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Sister!reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!reader, John Winchester x Daughter!reader, slight Bobby Singer x Daughter!reader

Word Count: 3,481

A/n: Y/n/n = Your nickname Y/d/n = Your daughters name

Masterlist

December 19th, 1996 - 9:17 am

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Hey, Y/n/n, it’s Dean. Where are you? Dad won’t tell Sammy and I anything. You’ve been gone for two days. Please, just tell me you’re safe. Call me back,”

March 5th, 1997 - 1:32 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“It’s Sam... You’ve been gone a long time... Dad won’t talk about you anymore, he gets mad when we bring you up. He won’t let us look for you but don’t worry, Dean still does and I help him where I can. I don’t know where you are but we’ll find you. We’ll bring you back. Love you,”

October 31st, 1997 - 8:49 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“...It’s Halloween... Remember when you would make Sammy dress up in some stupid costume and take him out trick or treating for a little bit? Dad would always get mad but you had this way of just lightening him up. I swear we would gain so much weight eating Sammy’s candy when he went to bed *small chuckle*… You’ve been gone for almost a year and I’m no closer to finding you than when I started... I’m not gonna give up though. I know you’re out there even if Dad won’t say anything. I just hope that wherever you are... you’re safe. Please, call back,”

December 25th, 1997 - 10:23 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Merry Christmas, Y/n. I miss you... a lot. Dean says you’ll come back but I don’t know if I believe him anymore. We should have found you by now right? Dad should be helping us *aggravated sigh*… He’s been drinking a lot lately... I just want you to come back. Nothing’s been the same since you left. I don’t know where you are but I hope Dean finds you. We need you here. We Love you,”

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Merry Christmas, Y/n/n... Sammy demanded that I call you and tell you that... He thinks you’ll come back if we talk to you or something like that... I don’t know... I’m starting to think you’re not actually missing... I think you and dad fought and you left us. I don’t think you want to be found... *sigh*… I thought you were happy here, with us. I don’t know what dad said to make you leave but please just... come back... Sammy needs you. I... *heavy sigh*… Come back,”

February 10th, 1998 - 2:30 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Hey, Y/n. Nothing has really changed in the last couple of months. Dad’s wanting to take me on more hunts but Dean’s holding him off. I know I’m ready to take on more of the big stuff. I just have to prove to Dean that I’m ready, that I can handle myself. You should come back and help me convince Dean I’m not a little kid anymore...You should come back... Love you”

June 1st, 1998 - 11:41 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Sammy got hurt today... We were hunting and... I don’t even know what happened. One second he was behind me and then we were separated and then he was hurt. Dad got pissed. Dad told me Sammy wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you were looking after him... I know he’s right... You were always better at looking after him than I was... Hell, you’re better at looking after me than I am... I don’t know how much longer we can keep going on without you. We’re falling apart here. Dad’s either hunting or emptying a liquor store. I’m trying to look after him and Sammy but... I can’t do this alone. I don’t know why you left or if you’re even- fuck... if you’re even getting these messages...”

October 31st, 1998 - 9:02 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Happy Halloween... Dean said I shouldn’t call... That you wouldn’t answer. That you’re probably not even listening to the messages... That might be true but still... You’re my sister and I miss you.”

December 25th, 1998 - 12:13 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Merry Christmas from Dean and I...”

December 17th, 1999 - 4:55 am

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“It’s been three years, Y/n... God, it’s been three years... I miss you like hell...Damn, I just... I just miss you”

December 17th, 2000 - 7:00 am

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Hey, it’s Dean. Just checking in... Everything’s fine on our end. Dad and Sammy are both doing good. It’s been four years and... I guess we’re just now figuring out how to work without you *small laugh, sniffle*… Sammy’s doing good in school. I can finally drink *laugh* legally that is. I know you’re getting these messages cause Sammy and I have left a shit ton and the box isn’t full yet. That means that you’re deleting them. I guess on the bright side that means you’re alive... I don’t know whether to be happy or pissed... I guess a little bit of both... I miss you. Sammy misses you. Hell, even dad misses you even if he doesn’t say anything. I hope you’re listening to these and not just deleting them... I guess it makes me feel better to think you actually listen... Guess it means a small part of you still cares enough to at least listen to me ramble on... *sigh*… I want you to know... You can come back. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been gone, you can still come back. I want you to come back. Hell, I’d be happy for a damn phone call or even a fucking text! Something!... Just give me something...”

December 17th, 2001 - 6:26 am

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Hey, it’s Dean. *Large sigh* I’m just... Just checking in... God, I wish you were here... More than anything... God, I need you. Text me where you are and I promise I will drop everything to come pick you up. Hell, I won’t even ask a damn question. Sammy and Dad have been going at it... It seems like it never ends. I can feel him pulling away. I know Sammy wants to leave and if Dad doesn’t lay off we’re gonna lose him just like... Just like we lost you... I can’t lose him.. I lost... I-I lost you an-and now *throat clearing*… If you come back then you can fix everything like you always could. You know, like, you could just... you can fix us... You can calm Sam down and make him stay... You can get dad to relax... I can’t keep this family together, they’re slipping through my fingers. Please, come back...”

July 8th, 2002 - 4:09 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“...Sammy’s gone... *slow sigh*… *sniffle*… I-... *quiet sob*…”

September 28th, 2006 - 6:37 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Hello, this is Stacey with the - hospital. I’m calling for a Y/n Winchester. I have news about the passing of a John Winchester...”

May 1st, 2008 - 11:59 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Uh... Hey, it’s uh... It’s Sammy - err - Sam. *Throat clearing* It’s been a long time since I called... Dean didn’t want me calling and I didn’t think I would have too but I can’t put this off anymore... Dean made a deal with a demon... His contract is up in a couple of weeks. I’m doing everything I can to get him out but... *shaky sigh*… I don’t know if... It would be nice if... If we could just see you. Leave the past behind us, ya know?... I doubt you’ll respond but I just... I had to let you know...”

Sam sigh’s hanging up the phone. It fidgets with the device in his hand, hunched over his knees. He could feel his heart dropping in disappointment. Even though he knew you wouldn’t answer there was still a small part that just... hoped.

He turns his head when he sees something moving in the corner of his eye. Dean leans against the doorway with his arms crossed. Sam looks into his eyes.

Neither of them have to say anything. They just understand.

It killed Dean that no matter what they said to you over the phone, you never called back. You never sent a text. You sure as hell never showed up. You simply dropped off the face of the Earth 10 years ago. No matter how hard they looked, they couldn’t find a trace of you.

You were always the best. You were the best hunter, being the eldest of the three. You were the best ‘parent’, being the unofficial mother figure. You somehow managed being both mother and sister. It’s what made your disappearance so hard. The boys weren’t just losing a sister.

Despite the fact that they couldn’t track you, you could track them. In fact, you had been doing your best to keep your eye on them. You’re father had demanded that you leave, never come back, and never contact them. You tried your best but you loved your brothers, you had to make sure they were ok.

However, they’re Winchesters. Keeping tabs on them wasn’t always easy. There would be months where they would be the ones that fell off the face of the Earth before suddenly reappearing somewhere. 

You listened to every single voice mail they left. You would cry your eyes out every time. You couldn’t put into words the pain you felt when you heard their voices begging you to come back. You always looked forward to their calls but it never failed to send you into an anxious depressive mess for weeks, sometimes longer, afterward.

It didn’t matter though, you had to keep moving. You had to keep living. It’s not just you who you have to worry about. 

In a couple of months your daughter would be turning 10. Y/d/n Winchester. The father disappeared a couple hours after conception. You had tried to track him down but it wasn’t your main priority. 

Telling your father was extremely hard but him forcing you to leave was the hardest. He wouldn’t let you say goodbye to your brothers. He just told you to pack your bag and get in the Impala while the boys were asleep. He bought you a bus ticket to the furthest place that the bus went too and told you to stay away from the life.

He knew if you talked to your brothers you would be pulled back in. If you were pulled back in, your daughter would be caught in the supernatural mess. John knew a war would be coming and a little baby shouldn’t be in the middle.

As much as you love your brothers, your priority is your daughter. You loved her from the moment you found out she was in your stomach. You had to protect her, no matter what. It didn’t matter what happened to you, your daughter was going to live a happy life.

You always dreamed of a day where you could introduce your daughter to her grandpa and uncles. You dreamed of different scenarios. You prayed they would come true.

When you learned of your father’s death you wanted to cave that instant. You wanted to pack your things, pick your daughter up from school, and go to Bobby’s. You knew the boys would be there. They could cover their tracks but sometimes they were just down right predictable. 

But then you remembered how he died. The nurses had explained the weird things going on and you got the security footage. You watched Dean teeter between the living and the dead before miraculously recovering. Not long later, your father dies. You were able to put two and two together.

Watching the footage would be the first time you saw Sam and Dean since you were a teenager. You didn’t think it would be possible for them to be so tall. The longing for your brothers amplified but they were in deep shit with demons. That isn’t the life you could bring to your doorstep. That isn’t the danger you could bring to your daughter.

However, when you got Sam’s call your world stopped. Hearing that Dean would be dead in a few weeks, dragged to hell by those damn hounds, made you fall to your knees. Hearing about your father’s death, hell seeing it on camera, was one thing. But to lose your brother is something you never wanted to go through.

Sure, you haven’t talked to him but you knew he was alive. You knew he was still kicking ass and taking names. But now you knew he was going to die and there wasn’t a damn thing you could to about it.

But you could do one thing.

“Where are we mom?” Your daughter asks in the back seat as you pull up to a motel. You don’t answer her. Your eyes are glued on the sleek, black Impala. Suddenly you’re 19 again being dropped off at the bus station by your dad who’s telling you to never come back again. “Mom?” You shake the thoughts out of your head. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” You whisper.

You were not fine. Your anxiety is so high that someone would need an oxygen take to climb to the top. Your nerves are shaking your hands. You couldn’t sit still. You felt as if you were on the verge of a panic attack. You managed to keep yourself together not wanting to have such an attack in front of your daughter.

“Sam,” You whisper. You’re youngest brother walks to the Impala, not sparing your car a glance. You watch him open the truck and rummage through it.

“That’s Uncle Sam?” Your daughter asks. Your daughter knew almost everything about your family. She had an idea about the supernatural but not a lot.

“Yeah,” You whisper.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” 

“Too long,” You respond. Sam closes the trunk and begins to walk away. “Stay here,” You say sternly. “I’ll come back for you,”

“Ok,” Your daughter barely answers before you’re out the car following your brother. You were so nervous about the fact that you were about to approach your brother for the first time in a decade that you had forgot one thing. He’s a Winchester.

Sam rounded the corner and you quickly followed. What you weren’t expecting was for him to grab you and slam you against the wall with his forearm digging into your throat.

“Who are you?” He snapped.

“Damn, Sammy,” You choked. Sam frowns his eyebrows and you give him the best Winchester smirk you could muster. “What? Don’t recognize your own sister?” You joke nervously. Sam frowns his eyebrows even more as he takes in your features. “You were the one who called me...” Sam eases back a bit but isn’t completely sure if he trusts you. “Unless you plan on cutting me with some silver or splashing me with some holy water, mind stepping back?” You grab your brothers arm and pull it to the side allowing you to slip away from the wall.

“Y/n?” Sam whispers.

“The one and only,” You wink at him.

“You’re actually here?” Sam asks. You nod.

“I heard that Dean’s in a tough spot,” Sam ignores your comment. “Thought I’d come see you assholes,” The edge of Sam’s lip raises a bit.

“Mom?” Your head snaps to your daughter. Sam slowly follows your gaze.

“I told you to stay in the car,” You growled. 

“I wanted to meet Uncle Sam,” She says walking up cautiously. You sighed and motioned for her to come.

“Uncle Sam?” Sam whispers frowning his eyebrows.

“Sammy, this is Y/d/n,” You introduce glancing at your brother. “My ten year old daughter,” Sam meets your gaze and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“Ten?” 

You slowly nod your head.

“Well, technically not yet but I will be,” She says running a hand through her hair. “It’s nice to meet you,” Y/d/n says holding out her hand. Sam looks down at her and instantly begins to notice the resemblance. He slowly begins to smile and shakes her hand.

“I’m going to assume Dean is with you,” Sam looks back to you.

“And Bobby,” You smile at the mention of his name. “Come on, they’d love to see you,” 

“I’m not sure if love is the right word but they sure as hell will be shocked,” You say following after him. Sam grins a bit but doesn’t comment. “Y/d/n, I want you to stay behind me or by Sam, alright? I don’t know how Uncle Dean and Grandpa Bobby are going to react but don’t be scared. If it gets too much, step outside, alright?”

“Ok,” Y/d/n nods. You smile kissing the top of her head. Sam glances back at you and his niece. A fond smile coming to his lips.

“We’re in here,” Sam mutters opening the door. Dean doesn’t even glance up but Bobby does. The instant Bobby sees you he drops the beer he was holding.

“What the hell, Bobby?” Dean snips when some of it splashes on him.

“Use your eyes and look, boy,” Bobby snapped back. Dean looks at Bobby and then to you. You notice Dean pale.

“Hi, boys,” You whisper.

“What’re you doing here?” Dean asks, after a long silence.

“I came to see you Dean,” You tell him. Dean scoffs.

“What do you want?” He rephrases his words.

“Nothing,” You shake your head. “Sam called-”

“We both called,” Dean snapped. “Hundred of times we called,” You press your lips together. “Did you even listen to them?” He asks standing up.

“Every one of them,” You whisper.

“And you never thought to call back?” He growls stepping closer to you. “What about the time Sammy begged you to come back? What about when I begged? When I told you we needed you? Where the hell have you been?”

“Taking care of me,” Y/d/n speaks up. Dean’s head snaps over to her. You look at her as well. She looks nervous but you smile proudly as she puts on a brave face and walks up to Dean. She looked scared but she didn’t waver as she stopped in front of your angry brother. “I’m Y/d/n... and I’m ten... almost,” 

Dean stares at her, his mind processing everything. He slowly looks from her, to you, back to her. She shifts a bit but continues to look strong.

“It’s my fault she had to leave,” She continues.

“Baby-” You try to interrupt but she wont let you.

“I don’t know the whole story but I know she misses you and Uncle Sammy and Grandpa John and Grandpa Bobby a lot,” You glance at Bobby. The old geezer has tears in his eyes as she says ‘Grandpa Bobby’. “She told me all about the pranks you would pull together and how you would all look after each other. She would tell me stories every night. She wanted to go back to you but she wouldn’t because of me...” She whispers.

“Y/d/n, we talked about this,” You say, slowly turning your daughter to face you. “None of this is your fault, ok? I love you and I don’t blame you a bit because it’s not your fault. Yes, I missed my brothers and your grandpas but I love you so much that I would stay away. There’s so much you don’t know still and I’ll tell you when you get a little older but-”

“It was safer for you two to stay away,” Dean whispers. You glance at your brother. He’s staring at you. “She just wanted to protect you, she did what she had to do. She was always good at doing the right thing,” You smile a bit.

“There’s a few things I could have done differently,” You shrugged.

“A text would have been nice,” Sam muttered and you smiles a bit.

“How about letters?” You ask. Y/d/n pulls a large stack of letters out of her bag. “They’re addressed to all of you,” You say tearing up. “There’s some for dad too but...” You sniffle a bit.

“You’re here,” Dean whispers, disbelief clouding his eyes. You glance at him. For a moment you’re looking at teenage Dean.

“And I’m safe,” You smile a bit. Dean’s smile widens just a bit. “I just have to figure out a way to keep you safe... Can’t leave you boys alone for a second,” You tease tearfully. Dean smiles and pulls you into a tight hug. Sam comes up to you as well and you wrap your arms around your little, yet taller, brothers. “I love you both so much,” You whisper.

@akshi8278​

[pazumane-archive]

Closing Time - Asahi x Reader

Characters: Asahi Azumane, female reader, original female character, small Taichi cameo

Relationships: Asahi Azumane x Reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, SFW but 16+ please

Warnings: Alcohol, general drunken shenanigans, emetophobia (mentions of vomit), bad language

WC: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is a totally self-indulgent bedtime-scenario-type story because there is simply not enough Asahi/Reader content out there and I adore him. It’s also my first time writing in 2nd person, so PLEASE feel free to send me any feedback, please just be kind :) I really don’t like to use y/n, so I only used it a couple times towards the end when I wasn’t sure what else to do lol

The preview begins with the bolded text below and fic continues after the cut :)

Reblogs appreciated! <3

You weren’t planning on getting this drunk. But by the time it got to be about 11:30, you didn’t know what else to do. You had put so much effort and energy into making yourself look nice just for your date not to show up. Your roommate was out of town, so instead of going home and pouting, you figured you might as well have some fun while you were out. But you’ve never been good at exercising restraint, and the fact that you were alone wasn’t doing you any favors. But by closing time had rolled around, you could hardly see straight. You needed help, so you call upon an old friend.

“Do you have anybody you can call for a ride?” Kawanishi asks.

Kawanishi’s the bartender at this izakaya, and over the course of the night, you spent most of the time talking his ear off. He’s nice enough, and held pleasant conversation for the last few hours. He says he used to be a volleyball player, and had even played on the same team as a one of the guys on the Japan National Team. You forget to ask him which school he attended, but he probably was tired of talking to your drunk ass anyway, so you don’t bother asking. “Yeah,” you say, digging in your purse for your phone. “Are you sure? I can call a cab for you if you need it,” he offers. “Nah,” you say, hiccupping between words. “I’ll call somebody. Thank you though.” “No problem,” he says. “Just try to make it quick.” You scroll through your phone, trying to figure out who to call. Your roommate’s out of town visiting her parents, so she’s a no-go. You could call Kokomi. Honestly, she would deserve the 2AM phone call for setting you up on this failed blind date in the first place. Ever since you moved to Tokyo last month, she was constantly trying to set you up with somebody, whether it was a friend, a coworker, or some rando that she had met on the train. Unfortunately, all of them were jerks. And this one was the biggest jerk of all. You silently curse yourself for going along with her antics again.

“He’s great, you’ll love him!” “You said that about the last three guys you tried to set me up with, Kokomi.” “Please!! You’ll never know if you don’t even give him a chance.”

Well, you gave him a chance. And it ended up with you all alone, drunk as hell in an unfamiliar part of the city. You dial Kokomi’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Bitch,” you mutter. You unlock your phone again and look through to find somebody that might be able to take you home. You scroll back to the top of your contact list, and your eyes settle on another name. He lives just a few blocks away, and knowing him, he’s probably awake working on something anyway. You click on his contact and wait for him to answer.

*

The exhaustion’s starting to get to him. It’s the weekend and he can afford to stay up an extra couple of hours to finish this design, but the combination of fatigue and frustration are taking over. He sets down his pencil and moves towards his bed, until his cell starts to buzz. He glances over at the clock on the wall. 1:49 AM.

Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

Asahi picks up his phone, surprised to see your name on the screen. His heart skips a beat in his chest, both from excitement and nervousness. Aside from his teammates, you’re one of the only people he bothered to keep in contact with after high school. The two of you had even met up a few times since you moved to the city, but he never would have expected you to call at this hour unless… unless something is wrong. “Hey you, what’s up?” He says, choking back a yawn. “Hiiiii Asahiiii!  I tried to call Kokomi but she didn’t answer her phone… could you come pick me up?” Your voice is thick and your words are almost unintelligible as you speak. It’s obvious that you’re far from sober. “Where are you?” Asahi asks, failing to mask the anxiety in his voice. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” “M’fine,” you slur. “But I…” Suddenly the call drops. Asahi calls you back in a panic, his heart racing as he waited for you to answer. You could be in danger and he’d be powerless to help you. He doesn’t even know where you are. “Hello?” A man’s voice comes through the speaker. “Who are you? Where is she?” Asahi asks frantically. “Relax, man. I’m just the bartender,” he says. “Look, your friend’s next to me, but she’s on the verge of passing out. Can you come get her before she pukes all over my bar? She’s at Zoetrope. You know where that is?” “Of course, I’m on my way now! I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Asahi says, grabbing his apartment keys and putting on a pair of shoes. He’s out the door almost immediately.

*

Kawanishi presses your phone back into your hands. Your head is spinning so fast that you struggle to keep your eyes open. “Is he coming?” you ask. “Yeah, he’s on the way,” Kawanishi says. “He’ll be here soon. Now do me a favor, don’t get this drunk the next time you come into my izakaya or I’ll have to kick you out.” “You’re kicking me out???” “Only if you start throwing up,” he says under his breath. “I’m not going to throw up!” you exclaim, suddenly becoming very aware of the churning in your stomach. You grumble, slumping over the bar. You squeeze your eyes shut, the spinning in your head only getting worse with every breath you take. You feel like you’re going to die, and honestly, between the embarrassment of being stood up and the wave of nausea coming over you, you’re ready to welcome that death with open arms. “Hey!” Kawanishi says, smacking the bar next to your head. “Your friend’s going to be here soon, don’t fall asleep or I’ll throw you out on the street myself.” “I’m sorry, Kawanishi-san.” You sit up slowly and cradle your head in your hands once more, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Please get here soon, Asahi.

*

Asahi sprints down the street as fast as he can towards the izakaya. He’s sure that he looks suspicious running down the street alone at night, but he doesn’t care. You’re in trouble, and he’s the only person that can help you. He finally makes it to the bar and hastily pulls the door open. You’re dressed beautifully, and your makeup and hair are exquisitely done. Unfortunately, the way you’re slumped over the bar makes it obvious that something’s wrong. He’s not sure what happened, but whatever it was, it must have been rough. The bartender gently helps you out of your seat, and Asahi can’t help but think that he looks very familiar. You straighten up and as soon as you make eye contact with Asahi, you perk up. “Asahi-san!” you exclaim, rushing towards him and almost falling over. You crush him in an unexpectedly tight hug. “Long time no see, big guy!” “I saw you three days ago,” he says under his breath. You continue babbling unintelligibly, and Asahi looks up at the bartender. “Did she close out her tab?” Asahi asks. “I took care of it already,” the bartender replies. “Please just make sure she gets home okay. She’s had a rough night.” “Yeah, of course,” Asahi says. “Thanks for helping her out.” “No problem.” Asahi peels your arms off him and starts to nudge you towards the door. Just before the two of you leave, Asahi stops and turns back to the bartender. “Have we met before?” he asks. “I played for Shiratorizawa. Didn’t think I’d see you again, Karasuno Samurai.” Asahi frowns slightly. He hasn’t heard that nickname high school, and it’s weird hearing it again now. “Right,” he says. “Well, thanks again. Have a good night.” Asahi leads you out of the bar and down the sidewalk. You hold tightly to his arm, stumbling over yourself. He braces you against his side, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little bit. “Do you like my outfit, Asahi-san?” you ask, pressing into his side. “Yeah, it’s really nice!” he answers nervously, turning his head to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s not lying – you look beautiful, both your top and your skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. But it would be wrong to say anything more than that while you’re in this state. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you. He brusquely clears his throat and keeps walking as soon as the light signals that you can cross. “I dressed up extra nice tonight, but it didn’t even fucking matter,” you grumble, your voice breaking slightly. Asahi either doesn’t hear you, or does hear you and decides not to say anything. “I’m soooo glad you’re here,” you say, drawing out your words even longer than you were a minute ago. “I’m sorry, this is super embarrassing! I should’ve figured this out on my own.” “It’s okay,” Asahi says. “How long have you been in Tokyo again?” “A month? I think?” “Exactly,” he says. “You probably don’t know your way around that much. I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t able to help you find your way home.” “Meh,” you say. “I’ve had the worst night of my fucking life, so maybe it would be better if I passed out in a ditch somewhere.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Asahi asks. “No,” you answer quickly. “Okay.” You start blathering again and Asahi has to practically drag you down the street behind him. The station just past his apartment has a train that can drop you right by your building. He can just take a cab back after he gets you home. He considers inviting you stay the night at his place since it’s right there, but he’s afraid of being weird, so he doesn’t say anything. The two of you come to a stop at the train station… which is closed. “I’m sorry,” Asahi says remorsefully. “I guess the train stopped running at midnight. I’ll call you a cab.” He goes to pull his phone out of his pocket, but you grab his hand before he can. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask sheepishly. “I… my roommate is out of town. And I’m really not doing good right now. I just really don’t want to be alone.” Despite how out of it you’ve been since he picked you up, Asahi sees nothing but complete sincerity in your eyes. Tonight must have been really rough. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’ll just sleep on the couch- or a futon if you have one!” you say, nodding. “Okay.” Asahi turns back towards his apartment and you follow closely behind him, not letting go of his hand the entire time.

*

Asahi helps you across the threshold of his apartment and sits you down on a chair by the door. “Asahi-san, you’re so handsome with your hair down like that,” you say, reaching up to twirl a finger in his long chestnut tresses. “And you’re loopy,” Asahi mutters, disentangling your fingers from his hair. Once again, he finds himself hiding a blush. He’s not used to being showered with compliments, and he knows you wouldn’t be saying this stuff if you were sober. He kicks off his shoes and kneels down in front of you, helping you take yours off. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. “Can I get you some water or a some–” “Why didn’t you ask me out when we were in high school?” you ask suddenly. “I think I made it pretty obvious that I had a crush on you. It’s all I could think about when you were holding my hand back there.” “I – I, uh,” Asahi stammers. You burst out laughing, startling Asahi. It’s that same boisterous laugh you’ve had for as long as he could remember knowing you. You were always self-conscious about it in high school, but your laugh has always been one of Asahi’s favorite things about you. Despite the fact that it’s at his expense, he’s glad to see your mood improve. Asahi considers your question for a moment. He really liked you too back then, and everyone knew it. Suga and Daichi constantly teased him for it.

So why hadn’t he asked you out back then?

Well, for a number of reasons. He spent so much of his third year focused on volleyball that he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for much else. He hadn’t even planned on going back to school after graduation until Nishinoya helped convince him to pursue his passions. He felt directionless, and he didn’t want to burden anybody else with his indecision. But most importantly, he was scared you’d reject him. Suga was right. He really was a coward. He’d dated a few people since high school graduation, but none of them made him feel the way you did, and they didn’t treat him as well as you would have. Which begs the question – why hasn’t he asked you out since you moved to Tokyo? He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. This isn’t the kind of conversation to be having when you aren’t even able to form a coherent sentence. Asahi’s thoughts are interrupted by your hand on his shoulder and a loud hiccup. “I should wash my face. Can I wash my face?” “Sure,” Asahi says, helping you stand up. You stumble forward, but he catches you easily and pulls you back to your feet. He quietly leads you to the bathroom and sits you down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m a mess.” “No, you’re not. Hold on a second,” he says, opening the drawer under the sink. He pulls out a small package of makeup wipes and takes one out. He kneels in front of you and begins wiping the makeup off your face. “I know they’re not great for your skin,” he says. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” “Why do you even have those?” you ask between hiccups. “Do you wear makeup? I mean, it’s obviously fine if you do, but it doesn’t really seem like your thing.” “I don’t, but you never know when they’ll come in handy! I do work with a lot of makeup artists,” he says, somewhat defensively. You get the sense that he’s lying about something, but Asahi changes the subject before you can probe him any further. “So what were you doing there by yourself?” he asks. “It’s not safe to be alone so late at night.” Clearly this was the wrong thing to ask. All the negative emotions and thoughts you were having all even spring to the forefront of your mind, and you start to cry. Asahi starts apologizing profusely, but you wave him off. “It’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping a tear away from your cheek. “Kokomi was trying to set me up with one of her friends, but he never showed up.” Asahi sits back on his heels. Kokomi is another girl from Karasuno that ended up in Tokyo. She wasn’t in the same class as him, but he remembers how loud she always was in the hallways. Honestly, both of you were always loud, but you’ve always been much more considerate of others than Kokomi ever was. “Shit,” he mumbles. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.” “Yeah. It does suck.” Asahi grabs another wipe and asks you to close your eyes. You do as he says, and he lightly wipes off your eye makeup. He’s worked with enough models to recognize that you’re wearing false eyelashes, so he gently pulls those off too. You feel yourself start to wobble on the edge of the tub, so you grip his arm to steady yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.” “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” you ask suddenly. “Wait, what?” “I just… this keeps happening to me. Everyone always says that it’s because they’re not the right person for me, but it’s starting to feel like there’s just something wrong with me instead,” you say, choking back a sob. “I know I just moved here, but I’m just so lonely. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough.” Asahi tenderly wipes a tear from your cheek and cups your face in both hands. “Hey, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you,” he says sincerely. “That guy is an idiot and a jerk. If he had any idea how extraordinary you are, he never would’ve done that to you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You don’t feel like you deserve to be spoken to like this – with such genuine kindness and sincerity. Asahi makes you feel so good. So special. He always has. And he’s just so… tender, especially for somebody who looks as intimidating as he does. You wonder if those feelings from high school ever truly went away. You sit up straighter and try to smile at him, but your stomach flips unexpectedly and violently. “Asahi-san?” you ask, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Yeah?” he replies. “Toilet.” Asahi moves out of the way as fast as possible. You hunch over the rim and retch into the toilet bowl. Asahi quickly scoops up your hair and holds it behind your head as you throw up. “Please, just leave me,” you mutter. “I’m gonna fucking die here.” “I’m not going to leave you here and you’re not going to die,” Asahi says, gingerly picking up the last loose strands laying on your neck and holding them back with the rest of your hair. Your back tenses up again before you begin heaving once more. Asahi tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, careful to make sure that he’s out of your field of vision. He wants to be there for you but he had a weak stomach himself and the sight and smell of somebody else’s vomit is something he knows he won’t be able to handle. You mumble weak apologies between hacks, but Asahi just ignores them and rubs your back gently. After what feels like an eternity, the churning in your stomach finally stops and you reach up towards the flush handle. The exhaustion in your body and heart finally begin to catch up with you, and your hand falls back to your side. “I got it. Do you think you’re done?” Asahi asks, coaxing you back up into a seated position. You nod, too tired to try to speak. Asahi quickly tugs his shirt back down from his face before you can see and closes the toilet lid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Don’t be,” Asahi says, flushing the toilet. “I’m your friend. I want to help you. And I’ve already told you that you don’t need to apologize to me.” Asahi helps you sit on the top of the toilet and rises to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, scurrying out of the room. Although your eyes are closed, you still feel your body swaying. More than anything, you just want to go to sleep. Asahi pads back into the room and presses a wooden cup into your hands. “Drink this,” he says, turning on the faucet. Even though drinking something is the last thing you want to be doing right now, you go ahead and lift the cup to your open mouth. Cold water passes your lips and washes away some of the disgusting taste in your mouth. It feels gross, but you force yourself to drink all of it. Asahi takes the cup from your hand and turns the faucet back off. You flinch at the feeling of a damp washcloth on your face. “It’s okay,” Asahi says gently, cradling your chin with his free hand and angling your face up. “Just cleaning you up a little.” You murmur in acknowledgement and Asahi continues to wipe your face down. You almost fall asleep sitting on his toilet, but he gently shakes you to keep you awake. “Stay with me for another minute,” he says softly. “You can go to sleep soon. You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.” His words and his voice are so sweet that you want to cry. A couple rogue tears drip from your eyes and onto his hands. “I’m sorry,” you say once more. Asahi sets the washcloth on the counter and starts to pull you to your feet. You struggle to stay on your feet, so instead, he carefully scoops you into his arms and carries you out the bathroom. You don’t care where you go, you just need to sleep. Asahi’s pretty certain you’re asleep by the time he deposits you on his mattress. Your chest rises and falls slowly as he pulls his duvet over you. He begins to make his way to the couch, but stops when he feels you grab his hand. “Please don’t go, Asahi-san,” you whisper. “Please.” You tug harder at his fingers and he knows he can’t refuse you. He ends up sitting on the edge of the bed holding your hand until you fall asleep.

*

As soon as your quiet snores permeate the silence, Asahi untangles his fingers from yours. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face and he can’t help but let his eyes linger on your sleeping face for just a moment. The moonlight trickling through the window illuminates your hair and casts a silvery glow on your skin. Despite the awful night you’ve had, you look absolutely radiant. He feels himself blushing again, but he takes some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t have to try and hide it this time. Not while you’re fast asleep in his bed. He’s far too scared to admit it, even to himself, but he’s fantasized about falling asleep next to you many times before. But in those fantasies you weren’t drunk and crying over another man. Asahi sighs, stands up, and moves over to the dresser as quietly as he can. After setting a few things out for you, he goes into the bathroom, gets ready for bed and heads to the couch for the night.

*

By the time you wake up in the morning, you feel like you’re going to die. You can’t remember what exactly happened the previous night. The last thing you remember clearly was talking to the bartender about high school volleyball, of all things. Your head’s pounding, and your stomach aches painfully, screaming at you to please eat something. You don’t open your eyes, fearing that it would somehow trigger another round of vomiting. Eventually, you force yourself into a seated position and open your eyes. The bedroom you’re in is small, but pretty well-decorated. It’s decently tidy. The only mess is a few crumpled up clothing designs discarded on the floor next to the trash bin.

Designs? Did that mean?

You’re at Asahi’s apartment. In his bed. Your eyes widen in panic.

  What happened last night?

You’re still wearing the clothes that you wore to the bar last night. And there’s no evidence of him ever being in bed with you. You reach over towards your phone, which has been graciously plugged in for you and set on the bedside table. That’s when you notice the note along with a sleeve of crackers and a glass of ginger ale.

Good morning!

There’s a set of clothes you can wear at the foot of the bed and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower if you want. Extra towels are underneath the sink. Please have something to eat and drink too. You’ll feel better if you do.

-Asahi

P.S. Please don’t feel bad. It’s okay.

You grab a few of the crackers from the bedside table and eat them, washing them down with the ginger ale.

Why does Asahi have to be so damn considerate? The whole situation is so embarrassing.

You contemplate just grabbing your phone and getting the hell out of his apartment, but you’re not going to pass up the opportunity to shower. You finish the last of the crackers, chug down the ginger ale, and grab the spare clothes at the end of the bed. You turn the doorknob as silently as you can and awkwardly creep down the hall towards the bathroom, stopping briefly to peek in the living room. Asahi’s fast asleep on the couch, clad only in pajama pants and a pair of fuzzy socks. His hair is down and messily splayed across the throw pillow he’s resting his head on. Quiet snores pass his lips. He looks cute. Your eyes trail from his face and down to his stomach. Despite quitting volleyball after high school, he seems to have mostly maintained his athletic form, except for a tiny little layer of pudge on his lower stomach. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile, until that little voice in the back of your mind reminds you of your place.

Quit staring, you perv! You need to get out of here!

You hurriedly continue down the hallway and jump into the shower as soon as you get into the bathroom. You think that maybe if you clean up fast enough, you can get out of Asahi’s apartment before he wakes up. However, as soon as you step into the shower, all worries about rushing out disappear into the back of your mind. You bask in the hot water, the steam clearing your sinuses and relieving some of the pain in your head. You silently thank the gods that Asahi actually uses conditioner, and not just 3-in-1 like most of the other men you were previously…. acquainted with. Although, it makes sense to you that somebody with hair like Asahi’s would have a strict haircare routine. As you shower, fragmented memories of last night start to come back to you.

Being stood up at the bar. Calling Asahi for help. Puking your guts out in his bathroom. Him carrying you into his room and laying you down on his bed. Him staying by your side until you fell asleep. You wishing he would’ve crawled into bed with you and held you through the night… Wait, what was that last part?

As soon as you’re done rinsing the conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower and swiftly towel off. You find the spare toothbrush Asahi mentioned, take it out of the packaging, and brush your teeth with his toothpaste. The dry, gross feeling in your mouth is quickly replaced with a minty fresh taste. You slip on the sweatpants and t-shirt that Asahi left for you and dry your hair. Thankfully, Asahi isn’t as huge as most people make him out to be, so while the clothes he left out are a bit big on you, you’re not drowning in them. You’ll just bring them back some other day. You start combing through your hair, and that’s when you hear it – the sound of somebody padding around in the apartment. Shit. Once the footsteps quiet down, you rush out of the bathroom and towards the front door. Asahi eyes you as you scoop up your shoes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Good morning!” he says kindly. “How are you feeling?” “I’m so sorry Azumane-san, it won’t happen again!” you say as you throw open the door and rush into the hallway. “Hold on, wait up!” he says as you pull the door closed behind you. You run all the way to the stairs at the end of the hallway and go to call Kokomi for a ride home. That’s when you realize that your phone is still plugged into the wall in Asahi’s room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You turn around and trudge back towards his apartment. Before you can even knock, the door opens slowly. Asahi stands there in just his pajama pants, holding your phone out to you. “You shouldn’t leave without your phone,” he says. You thank him and take your phone, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You try not to stare at his bare chest, already feeling like a creep for ogling him while he was sleeping. “Your clothes are still in the bathroom, too,” he says. “I can go get them for you. Or I can just wash them and give them back to you another time if you want to leave.” “No, that’s okay,” you say, covering your flushing cheeks with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll get them. Can I come in?” “Of course.” Asahi steps out of your way and you head straight for the bathroom, avoiding looking in his eyes. Asahi never gets angry, and you know he wouldn’t be mad at you over something like this, but a lingering sense of shame still washes over you. You scoop up your clothes and leave the bathroom. As soon as you cross the threshold into the living room, the smell of coffee and frying fish washes over you. Asahi stands in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. In the time that you were in the bathroom, he put on a Black Jackals sweatshirt and threw his hair into a loose bun. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks, smiling at you and pouring his own cup. “It’ll help with the hangover.” You stand there and ponder his offer for a moment. Sensing your hesitancy, Asahi suddenly turns back to the stove and mumbles something that you can’t quite make out. “What did you say?” you ask. Asahi rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’s had since you were kids. “I don’t mean to pressure you to stay or anything! I just thought it might help for you to have something more than crackers and ginger ale.” “You’ve done plenty to help me since last night,” you say. “But I’ll take that coffee if the offer is still on the table.” “It is!” Asahi says a little too enthusiastically for his own good. You can’t help but smirk as you take your seat at the kitchen table. Asahi pours you a cup of coffee and slides you a bowl of the rice and fish he made. You thank him quietly and start to eat. He slides into the chair across from you and eats his own breakfast, eyeing you carefully. “What?” you ask after catching him staring. “Since when have you ever called me Azumane-san?” he asks. “I don’t know,” you mumble into your coffee mug. “I didn’t think we reverted back from first name basis,” he says. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” “I don’t know,” you say, a devilish smile crossing your face. “Care to explain why you actually had those makeup wipes in your bathroom drawer? I doubt your makeup artists are coming over to your apartment.” Now it’s Asahi’s turn to blush again. “My ex-girlfriend left them here,” he says. “Felt like a waste to just throw them out.” “Ex-girlfriend?!” you exclaim suddenly, startling Asahi and causing him to drop the wipe on the floor. “I didn’t know you were seeing somebody!” “Yeah,” he says, throwing the wipe in the trash and grabbing a fresh one. “We broke up a while before you moved to the city. She left a bunch of her stuff here and refused to come pick it up. I think she was just too embarrassed to see me again. I got rid of most of it a while ago, but I kept some of the more… uh, utilitarian things.” “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely. “Why did you break up?” Asahi feels a slight pang in his chest. He met his last girlfriend through his job. She was nice enough, and things seemed like they were going okay until he showed up at her apartment to surprise her for their 6 month anniversary, only to find another man in her bed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. “It’s fine. She cheated on me with some other guy,” he says, his expression darkening. “I think they’re engaged now.” “Shit,” you say. “What a bitch.” “Woah, settle down, it’s okay –” “No, it’s not,” you say firmly. “You deserve someone way better than that. Somebody that treats you with the love and respect that you deserve.” Asahi knows you’re right, but he doesn’t really want to press it. That whole mess had done a number on his mental health, and he really doesn’t want to burden you with his emotional baggage. He adjusts his glasses again and forces a smile. “You know, you should really take your own advice,” he says. You try to think back on what you had said to him last night. The details are fuzzy, but you remember crying. A lot. Instead of answering him, you shovel down the last of the rice and fish. “Thank you for the meal,” you say. Asahi smiles and nods at you before beginning to clear the dishes away. You stand up and stop him, insisting that you clean up yourself. As you finish drying the bowls, your phone buzzes. You check it, only to see a handful of missed texts from Kokomi.

Ono Kokomi [8:32} Hey!! Sorry I missed your call. How was he?  (°◡°♡) [9:14] That good?  (^.~)☆ [9:18] Or that bad?! (;;;*_*) [9:57] HELLO?? (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ [10:32] ARE YOU ALIVE?!?!?!  〣( ºΔº )〣

You roll your eyes and quickly type out your response.

Y/N [10:33] Yeah, no thanks to you. (￢_￢;)

Ono Kokomi [10:34] Was it really that bad?

Y/N [10:34] He didn’t even show up. (╥_╥) [10:34] Azumane picked me up at 2 AM because I was too drunk to go home alone. I stayed the night at his place. [10:34] Speaking of which, can you come pick me up? Not really in a state to take the train and I think you owe me one.

Ono Kokomi [10:35] (⊙_⊙) [10:35] Spill. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Y/N [10:36] There’s nothing to spill. I threw up in his bathroom and he slept on the couch. Can you just answer my question please? (҂` ﾛ ´)凸

Ono Kokomi [10:36] Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m on my way, lovebird. (￣ε￣＠)

“Everything okay?” Asahi asks. “Yeah,” you say, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Kokomi’s going to come pick me up.” “Are you sure? I can take you if you want,” he offers. “Yeah, she’s already on her way,” you say, setting the bowl down and turning to face him. “Besides, you’ve done more than enough for me already over the last twelve hours.” You silently pick up your things and walk towards the door. Asahi rises from his chair and awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you have all your stuff?” You nod and smile. Before you open the door, you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. He shyly hugs you back, hoping you can’t hear the rapid pounding in his chest. “Thank you, Asahi,” you whisper. “You’re amazing.” You let go first and leave his apartment quietly. As soon as the door closes, Asahi walks back into the living room and flops down on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans. This morning was almost too much for him – seeing you in his clothes, eating breakfast together, you hugging him before you left. It was all so painfully domestic, and he wishes it didn’t have to end. If only he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve asked you to stay longer. He doesn’t know how long he lays there until he finally decides to get moving for the day and finish that piece he was working on when you called last night. He checks his phone and sees your name pop up on the screen.

Y/N [11:00] I’m home. Thanks again for babysitting me last night. Whatever did I do to deserve you as my guardian angel? ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ [11:00] Or was that Noya-san? I forget. (^ω~)

Azumane Asahi [11:01] Lol. You’re welcome. And that was what we called Noya in our club days, but I don’t mind you calling me that too (* ^ ω ^)

Y/N [11:03] Let me make it up to you. [11:04] Come over for dinner tomorrow night?

Asahi almost drops his phone on his face. His fingers fumble as he types his response. He waits a moment before sending it, rereading it ten times to make sure he doesn’t come across as desperate.

Azumane Asahi [11:07] I’d love to. Do you want me to bring anything?

Y/N [11:08] That’s not necessary. I owe you a nice dinner. [11:09] You still like tonkotsu ramen?

Azumane Asahi [11:10] I do!

Y/N [11:11] It’s a date! See you tomorrow! (☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

*

“You said nothing happened last night,” Kokomi says, staring over your shoulder at your phone. “Nothing happened, Kokomi. Now leave me alone,” you snap, tossing one of your throw pillows at her. She deftly catches it and plops down on the couch next to you. “Please,” she says, swatting you with the pillow. “The only reason you two haven’t gotten together is because you’re the densest people on the planet. I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” “Shut up,” you grumble. Kokomi’s phone rings and she quickly checks it. “Anyway, I have to go meet Kaito,” she says. “Got to go. Let me know how your date goes!” She waves and practically skips out the front door. You lay down and start making a shopping list for ingredients for tonkatsu ramen. As soon as you’re done, you set your phone down and cross your arms over your face.

“I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” No, Kokomi. That’s me.

[hopelesshawks]

Love and Admiration Part 7- Drinks

18+ Bakugo x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: (Y/n) has known Bakugo since middle school, admired him since high school, and had a crush on him since the first time they met. Even now, a top pro hero in her own right, she can’t shake her school girl crush. Too bad Bakugo literally has no idea she exists. Well that’s not entirely true… He does know pro hero Mercury exists, but (y/l/n) (y/n)? Never heard of her.

Warning for male masturbation

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

You must have cycled through half a dozen different outfits before you finally settled on one you liked: a careful balance of sexy and comfortable after a long day of hero work. You’ve only been to Masahiro’s once before but it’s a nice enough place and the drinks are good. You spend a stupid amount of time putting on makeup and then double, triple, and quadruple checking how you look in the mirror before you finally head out.

It’s an easy train ride into downtown, a few people recognize and stop you to ask for an autograph or words of wisdom or advice. It’s a surreal experience, sure your popularity has been exploding lately but it’s still odd to be treated as a celebrity. As you walk past a billboard of yourself advertising athleticwear it occurs to you that you kind of are a celebrity. Your train of thought is interrupted by Masahiro’s coming into view. You hurriedly duck into the bar, it’s pretty empty on a Thursday night so it doesn’t take you long to spot Bakugo. He, of course, looks incredible. He’s got on a plaid over shirt that he’s rolled up to his elbows, impressive forearms on display. The black tee he wears beneath it stretches tightly over his muscular chest. He’s sitting at the bar top but you can still appreciate the way his jeans hug his legs. He’s scowling down at his phone, having not noticed your entrance, and it shouldn’t be an attractive expression but somehow on him it just is. You take a deep steadying breath as you steel your nerves, trying to calm down your racing heart as you walk over towards him.

“Where are the others?” Bakugo’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice, eyes connecting with yours. “They bailed,” he scoffs, his annoyance clear in his voice. You hum in acknowledgment but then lean against the bar to flag down the bartender. Bakugo watches you curiously, only now properly taking in your appearance. You look good, he’ll admit. In the back of his head a voice that sounds suspiciously like Denki corrects him that you look hot. It’s his first time seeing you in civilian clothing, he realizes, and you wear it well. He’s still trying to decide whether he prefers you in your civilian clothes or hero costume when you finally get the bartender’s attention and the sound of your voice snaps Bakugo out of his trance. His ears go slightly pink when he realizes his train of thought and he quickly shakes his head as if doing so will physically dislodge the thought from his brain. He decides to instead focus on whatever you’re talking to the bartender about. “An order of your finest saké please, and just keep the bottles coming until we ask you to stop,” you tell the bartender with a grin. Bakugo is about to stop you, it’s a ludicrous fucking request considering the astronomical price tag that will surely come with it, but then you finish your sentence. “Oh and would you mind putting it on Chargebolt’s tab? He wanted to treat us to celebrate our big bust today but had to bail cause of work stuff. Y’know how pro hero work is,” you continue. “Of course! No problem Mercury, I’ll get right on that,” the bartender tells you before whisking off to fulfill your request.

As you get comfortable in your seat you find Bakugo giving you a slightly impressed look to which you respond with a shrug. “If he’s gonna bail on us the least he can do is let us get plastered on his money. If the bill gets too ridiculous we’ll switch to one of the other flakes’ tabs,” you reply with a grin. To your delight, Bakugo’s mouth stretches into an amused smirk as he chuckles. “Well played Mercury, well played,” he tells you as the bartender brings over the first bottle and fills two small glasses for you both. “We’re off duty, at least call me (y/l/n),” you tell him with a roll of your eyes. “Well then (y/l/n), let’s make dunce face’s fucking wallet hurt,” Bakugo tells you, grin almost feral as he takes his glass and holds it up. “I’ll drink to that,” you grin before raising your own. The two of you cheers before quickly drinking down the contents of your cups, probably too quickly considering the quality it, and then pour yourselves another round.

Fast forward a few hours and you both have had way too much to drink. Your laughter is too loud, your grins too wide, but neither of you seems to care and after one person had tried to tell you to quiet down and Bakugo nearly ripped their head off no one else has made an attempt. Bakugo genuinely didn’t expect to have this good of a time. Sure, you occasionally would start teasing him, bringing back his trademark scowl, but it was always good natured in the same way Kirishima, Kaminari, and (dare he say it) even Deku tended to be. The kind of teasing he didn’t hate, the kind that didn’t make him want to hide under the bluster and temper that he’d worn like a shield most of his life. He also can’t help but notice little things about you like the beautiful color of your eyes, the way your outfit hangs off your incredible body just right, the way your laugh seems to brighten the entire room. The more the two of you drink the harder it is for him to push the thoughts away. Every time you almost catch him staring a little too intently, he’s immensely grateful he can blame the flush in his cheeks on the alcohol. You are distracting in a way no one has ever been for him and it’s a disconcerting enough thought that he shoves it away and locks it in a box full of things he refuses to think about.

“Hey Bakugo, you listening?” you ask, waving a hand in front of his face. “Course I’m listening dumbass what?” he snaps, disgruntled at being caught lost in his thoughts of you. “That’s a lie,” you snort. Bakugo is about to snap at you but you raise your hand to cover his mouth with a giggle to stop him from saying anything. “Last call was like an hour ago, they’re kicking us out dummy,” you tell him, sliding your hand away from his mouth to let him reply. “You’re so drunk,” he accuses you like a hypocrite. “So are you,” you fire back. He doesn’t have a rebuttal for that so he just rolls his eyes before grasping hold of your hand and pulling you from the bar and into a waiting rainstorm outside.

Bakugo knows he should let go of your hand now that you two are outside. He knows you both should go somewhere to take shelter from the rain. There’s a lot of things he should do but instead he’s just standing opposite you, staring at your wide delighted eyes as you grin from ear to ear, alcohol keeping you warm even as the rain soaks through you two’s clothes. This is the part where he’s supposed to say goodnight and the two of you will walk your separate ways but he finds himself not wanting to leave you yet. “C’mon idiot, lemme walk you home,” he tells you tugging you along towards the train back to Hosu City. “I can walk myself home you know, I am a pro hero,” you tell him teasingly as you catch up to walk along beside him. The mere thought of you walking around the city drunk and alone is enough to send a protective surge through Bakugo as he growls out “Absolutely fucking not.” Even on the train he tugs you in closer against him, hiding you in the protective shell of his body and trying very hard not to think about exactly how close you are right now as you giggle and tease him. Your smell fills his nose and it’s intoxicating. He almost feels more drunk off your very presence than he does the copious amounts of saké the two of you had consumed.

Finally the two of you arrive at your apartment and Bakugo finds himself wishing the walk had taken longer. “This is me,” you tell him as the two of you walk up to your front door. He needs to let you go, you’re both soaked through and could use a long, hot shower but his alcohol soaked brain insists on telling him the two of you should conserve water and shower together. He tries to keep his eyes focused on yours but he can’t help the way they instead wander down to your lips. They’re so close and you’re standing there so open and vulnerable. Without consciously choosing to do so Bakugo feels himself start to lean in as if pulled by some gravitational force. He’s close, so close and when your eyes flutter shut he knows you feel the same pull he does. Just before he can close that final distance between you two, your phone rings, shattering the moment and causing both of you to spring apart. You curse and fumble to retrieve your phone before hurriedly answering. “Wha- yea. I just got home actually. Yes I’m fine,” you tell whoever is on the line with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. You mouth an apology to Bakugo but he’s a little preoccupied trying to figure out what the actual fuck just came over him as you finish up your phone call. Finally you hang up and turn back to him. “Sorry about that, just a friend checking I made it home safe,” you explain. “It’s fine I should, uh, get going,” Bakugo says, looking anywhere but at you with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Oh, ok,” you reply and Bakugo wonders idly if he’s imagining the disappointment he hears in your voice. “I’ll see ya around I guess,” he tells you. “Yea, I’ll see you around,” you reply. He nods and then turns around on his heel and quickly walks back down the direction the two of you had come in, oblivious to your gaze still trained on his back long after he’s entered the stairs.

When Bakugo gets back to his own apartment he almost immediately peels out of his wet clothes, leaving them in a heap in his bathroom as he pads across the cool tiles over to his shower. He can’t get you out of his head. Your laughter, your smile, your body, and especially the way you’d looked as he’d started leaning in towards you in front of your door. He turns the water on hot, waiting until it heats up properly before he steps beneath the spray. He thought the water might help clear his mind but it has the opposite effect. All he can do is think what may have happened had your phone not rang. Unbidden his brains offers him images of him closing that final distance to bring your lips together. He pictures pulling you in closer and kissing you senseless, pictures the way you’d breathlessly pull away just enough to invite him into your apartment. How the two of you would have made your way to the bathroom and stripped out of your wet clothes together instead of alone on opposite sides of town. His dick is already painfully hard when the temptation becomes too much and he reaches down and wraps one hand around it. As he slowly begins to jack himself off, he closes his eyes and pictures your hand wrapped around him instead. The image is so vivid, the memory of you so fresh, that it doesn’t take long for him to start approaching climax. He uses his free hand to steady himself on the wall as he moves his hand faster and faster, still pretending it’s you driving him closer and closer to orgasm. When he finally falls over the precipice, his cum splattering against the shower wall opposite him, it’s your last name that he moans as he slowly pumps himself through it until he’s finally spent. As he slowly comes back to himself, the post orgasmic haze clearing little by little, Bakugo is struck by two thoughts:

1. He is going to murder his idiotic friends

2. He is completely and utterly fucked

A/N: The fic finally earns its 18+ rating. Also, Masahiro’s comes from Masahiro Sakurai, the game developer who created the Kirby and Super Smash Bros games, which have always been my favorite.

Taglist: @pixelwisp @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @heroacadema @kozukatsuki @captaincyberqueen @undead-nyx

[angelkurenai]

Imagine being in a relationship with Dean, but when you finally start to make things more serious, you start to distance yourself and keep quiet from him. Being worried he might have ruined the best thing to ever happen to him and despite his insecurities, Dean decides to have a talk with you to figure out what’s wrong.

“What?” Dean's voice was gruff, still far too early for him to speak or stand in the first place especially since he hasn't had his coffee yet, but he did repeat with a frown at his brother “What?”

“Huh?” Sam blinked, looking away from your still – maybe far too still to be normal – form, hunched over your steaming cup of coffee, to look at his brother who had one raised eyebrow at him already “Oh uh, I- What did you say again?”

“I asked you. What's the matter man?” Dean blinked slowly compared to his brother who blinked too fast.

“No, nothing's the- You know actually-” Sam cleared his throat, turning more towards his brother and lowering his voice “I've just- I was looking at (Y/n) and I've noticed that lately some things are different, like- like this morning, and I've been meaning to ask you but I didn't know if I should so I just-”

“Sam” Dean said in a rough voice “Too early. Too many words. Cut to it.”

“Is she alright?” he asked with actual worry both on his face and in his voice “Cause I- I was paying attention to some things and she really doesn't seem like herself. I would've asked her but, while I'm her best friend, I didn't know if it was entirely my place to. So I thought I should ask you, seeing how attached to the hip you two are. Is (Y/n) alright?”

“I-” Dean started but frowned even more, his eyes immediately jumping to take in your form at the moment as he tilted his head to the side in confusion and deep thought “I don't-”

“You don't? Don't what, Dean? Don't know? She's your girlfriend, for crying out loud!” Sam whispered-hissed at his brother.

“I just- She seemed fine to me all this time! I never noticed a thing out of the ordinary. She's acting the same way she always did around me!” Dean shrugged, voice also hushed “No, really, that's how it's always been. Our relationship is the same too, maybe better than ever! I mean-” a smile, or more like a proud grin, started lifting the corners of his lips as he looked a bit into the distance in thought “If last night was any indicator, we are certainly better than ever!”

“You- what?” Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother with a tilt of his head.

“You know, I was a bit tired after the case, but then she came out of the shower wearing my shirt and you know how one thing can lead to another, and I really couldn't help. It was oof-” Dean blew out a breath “Wow, really, wow. So much of-” Dean had started recounting the events of the previous night with a coy smile on his face, until Sam interrupted him.

“Dean. Dean! Hey, not- not the point here, yes? And I'm certainly not interested in being scared for life by the mental images that would inevitably invade my mind, please and thank you.” the younger Winchester pointed out, effectively cutting him off also with a look that made Dean's smile vanish and the man sober up and get more serious “Our point here is (Y/n) and whether she is alright or not.”

“She-” Dean paused, letting out a short huff before straightening his back “Hey, honey? (Y/n)?”

“Hmh? What?” you asked slowly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you finally looked at something but your coffee, your boyfriend.

“Are you alright?” he asked caringly still.

“Define alright.” you said back with a serious face and they shared a look “Alright as in alright with an asteroid striking earth and killing everyone this morning or alright as in alright with passing out and sleep the rest of my life off with occasional breaks for midnight snacks?”

It took a couple seconds for any of the Winchesters to speak, only silence having followed save for the sound of the coffee machine, as they both stood there for a couple seconds only blinking”Alright as in... alright? Alright as in functioning properly as a human being and being... mentally stable perhaps?”

“Oh” you blinked, only twice, in understanding before shaking your head “No, then. No.” you went back to staring at your coffee, waiting for it to cool down and letting silence hang in the air but for a shorter amount of time before you added “As for mentally stable though, I think I've got something close to it. My mind is in a stable situation as in a never-changing state.”

“Never-changing state? Wh-what would that be?”

“You know, normal stuff.” you shrugged, eyes still laced with sleep “Like an internet browser.”

“You mean... like a computer? Sharp and with a good memory?”

“No, I mean like a browser. Fifteen tabs are open, seven of them are frozen and I don't know where the music is coming from.” you said with a casual shrug “But there's nothing new about it. 'S pretty much the story of my life, how I've always been. 24/7 and it stays the same, so don't worry.”

“I-” Sam frowned even more deeply, blinking in confusion again before shaking his head and turning his head abruptly to look at his brother and mostly glare at him, before he whispered “You call this alright?”

“Well, just between you and I... yeah!” Dean shrugged “That's how she is man, we both know it.”

“Well, yes, obviously. But today she seems to be even more of... that! Seriously, Dean-” Sam sighed deeply, shaking his head “Work with me for a moment here, ok? Really do. Think well about this. Has something happened that could affect her? Something that maybe... you don't even know about? Something that she wouldn't tell you for one reason or another?”

“Not tell me? Why would she not-”

“I don't know. I mean-” Sam shrugged, face going more serious this time around “Does she have a reason to? Is there something there that would cause it? Is... Is everything ok between the two of you?”

“Of course, why else-” Dean started, defending himself and what you had, before it slowly started downing on him and he stopped abruptly, going serious immediately “I'll- I will go talk to her.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean, maybe you should wait a bit? Think this trough?” there was clear doubt in both Sam's voice and face, not that it deterred the older Winchester in the least bit. He was far too busy being worried abut other things than him messing up.

“Yeah, I've got this. Don't worry, I'll clear it all up.” he reassured his brother though Sam looked anything but reassured.

“Doubt that but alright, whatever you say.” Sam sighed “Just- Make sure to be calm. Be careful about this.”

Though Dean barely paid attention to half of the words, he gave a nod at his brother – which, alright, looked more dismissive than anything else – before making his way towards you.

“Hey, honey.” he said softly, slowly reaching out to take hold of your hand; the only thing you did was hum in acknowledgment, eyes focus on stirring your coffee.

“Alright uhm-” he cleared his throat, glancing at his younger brother who was looking closely at the two of you in concern “Hey, sweetheart, are you- How are you feeling today?” he corrected himself when he realized his previous question had already gotten an answer, albeit weird one.

“Oh just a lil bit tired. 'S all. But what else is new?” you shrugged, finally moving to slowly take a large sip of your coffee and sigh in content.

“I understand, the case was a bit tough for all of us. But things will get better, we'll take a break for some time if need be.” he nodded his head slowly, his fingers playing with yours as he hesitated for another second “I just- You know, you seem a bit off, so I- I couldn't help but feel slightly concerned about you. And I know you said you are ok but I wanted... I neededto ask you again if everything is really alright... between us?” his question managed to make you look up from your cup with a deepening frown and tilt of your head, fact that only put him even more on edge and made him worry even more.

“You felt concerned?” you question, glancing at Sam the same second he did.

“Yeah, I- well, we both did. But I even more so, you understand. So I just wanted to ask you. And honey, if- if I ever did anything, if I wronged you somehow, if- gosh, if I hurt you even, I am so sorry. I didn't- I didn't even realize it, I get so caught up with our hunts sometimes that... maybe I even neglect you. Some kind of boyfriend, I am.” he scoffed at himself, shaking his head “I know I suck sometimes, but you know I love you more than anything. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me and to know that I might have somehow ruined this in any way, even in the slightest, hurts as hell. So I want you to tell me, I want us to talk, so I- so I can do my utmost to fix it. Something. Anything. So I can be better for you.”

“Fix it?” the more you only repeated his words in that careful, low tone the more the man panicked on the inside that things were much more wrong than he knew and wondered if there even was any fixing it.

“I- Well, I hope?” he asked slowly, before squeezing your hand “I just want us to be alright and it's clear that we're not. You just seem off and I was hoping you could talk to me about it, that I could change it. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need from me? Anything at all. You just tell me and I promise-”

“Well, since you started this-” you shrugged, straightening your back “I wasn't going to mention this but, yes, maybe you are right. There is something great I need, that I almost can't live without, and that I feel like I've been missing all this time. I really don't know how to tell you but in every relationship we must also think of ourselves, not our partner. There is no use in suffering just to make the other happy, it's not healthy. So I guess, enough is enough after some point, right?” you asked and he gave a weak nod “Dean-” you sighed heavily as he looked at you with almost wide, terrified eyes “I really need some space.”

Sam held his breath as he watched with almost wide eyes on his own the scene unfold before him, expecting anxiously his brother's reaction. He really hoped he didn't overreact, though, that his words were carefully thought, calm and collected instead of-

“You're breaking up with me?!” Dean nearly yelped the exclaim and Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. There went the first option of a civilized conversation, right out of the window.

You held his gaze for a couple more seconds, face completely blank before you finally snapped or close to it as you punched Dean on the shoulder “You're taking up all the bed you little piece of shit! I just need some space to sleep comfortably without having the fear of ending up on the floor, you idiot! I haven't been able to sleep well for the entire week because of you just sprawl out on the damn bed and take up all of the freaking space!”

When a kick on the foot under the table followed, Sam couldn't help but snort and let the smile rest on his lips. Relief, no doubt ten times bigger, washed over his brother though Sam wasn't sure for how long it would last.

“I'm so-”

“Oh no, you don't get to apologize! You don't get to say shit about this Winchester. I barely slept two hours last night, two freaking hours! All the while you were sprawled and snoring softly and murmuring in your sleep and enjoying your time in freaking dreamland like Sleeping Beauty!” but you apparently could snap harder and much as it made Dean back down with wide eyes, Sam was thoroughly enjoying it “So you want to be a good boyfriend and really try to make our relationship work? How about you start with the freaking basics such as letting me survive! Cause last time I checked lack of sleep is detrimental to one's health.”

“I- I will. I promise, I-”

“You fucking better.” you hissed, glaring at him before you grabbed your cup and got up, pausing only to look at Sam but with less menace because, in all honesty, he wasn't the one that wouldn't let you sleep “See? That's why I didn't like falling in love! Before you know it you sacrifice everything that's important to you for the other one. From sleep to your favorite cake! At least back then I didn't have to share my bed with anyone, it was all mine. And gosh, I will forever mourn that last piece I didn't get to eat. See, back when we weren't together he would have never dared do something like that! Now he has the audacity to do than and think that makeup sex will solve everything.” you scoffed shaking your head before muttering “Have a good day Sammy.” and exiting the kitchen.

“You have a nice day, too, honey.” Dean said albeit a bit more hesitantly, voice small.

“Don't tell me what to do!” you yelled both so that he could hear you and so that he knew you were far from alright “And stay the fuck away from my leftover fries!”

“I- alright.” Dean let out a breath, eyes wide before he shook his head and cleared his throat “Ok, well, it's safe to say that we don't have to wonder or worry anymore, right? So, silver lining.”

“Well, that did look like an (Y/n) who hasn't slept well, so yes it's safe to say we can be sure about what troubles her. Though I don't think that you're far from done.”

“No, yeah, I had no such illusion.” Dean sighed, getting his cup and taking a sip “I'm definitely gonna be sleeping on the floor for the next week.”

“Hmm maybe make it two?”

[echo-three-one]

How ‘bout Jealous Soap x reader?

Hello Earthisdonut 🌍 🍩

I saw your ask while I was at work and I can't stop thinking about how the story goes... I had a lot of ideas but as I wrote, it kept on swinging on the other direction. Maybe it's my feelings being resonated into the words or an entire force telling me to go this way. Anyways here you go...

A jealous soap x reader fic.

Take me home

You take a deep breath and closed your eyes, clearing away the mixed sounds of random chatter, loud tv commentary and the all the yelling. 'Friday evening shifts are the worst' you thought to yourself as you make your way back to your station, wearing a smile on your face.

"Hey miss!" a customer whistled from the far end of the counter. You hastily walked to him and smiled. 

"What can I get you?" you asked with sincerity in your voice. You've worked long enough to master the art of faking a smile when in fact you are tired, but this job is all you have and the tips kept the bills afloat.

"Two beers and roasted nuts, please." He ordered, you were impressed at how kind he was, unlike the other new customers who reeked of rudeness and bad manners.

"Coming right up, Sir!" you winked as you tend to his order, mentally noting his tab for later. You hand him over the beer, placed on a circular chip that served as a coaster, followed by a heaping bowl of roasted nuts.

This kind of scene continued throughout the night, just with different kinds of people with different combinations of orders. You feel tired but you tend to forget it when you look at the tip jar, the thing that kept you moving forward. It's also the thing that's holding you back from life, you remembered when your best friend told you that you should unwind sometimes instead of rendering overtime during your day offs, to which you replied : "Soon enough", and that was well over a year ago.

As you wiped off the recently left spot by the counter, a well built man immediately took the spot and sat down, you tilted you head upward as the action surprised you. There he was, you couldn't miss his look, he stood out on the crowd because of his haircut, a perfectly cut mohawk and a scar on his left eye. He grinned at you, his blue eyes looked excited as soon as it met yours.

"John? I didn't know you'd be home!" You gasped as soon as you realized he's actually there, quickly putting a shot glass and pouring his favorite drink.

"Hey Y/N! I knew I'd find you here!" his hand gestured for a shake but he quickly dismissed it as soon as he realized he couldn't do it while you're at work.

"Yeah, working as always." you replied, trying to sound contented. He smiled at you as he raised his glass and downed the drink. You couldn't help but look at the way his Adam's apple moved as he consumed the drink.

His face turned into something incomprehensible as he let the taste of the strong alcohol set in, making you chuckle a little. His eyes turned to you as he heard you laugh.

"What's funny?" he asked. You simple shook you head and poured another pint on his shot glass. 

"I'll be back in a few. I have to serve drinks for these wild crowd." You informed him, but as soon as you were about to step out, you hear him stand up.

"What time will you be off?" He asked.

"Two more hours." You replied without looking back. You could feel your cheeks warm up and an uncontrollable smile plastered on your face. 

"Okay. I'll be here till then." he yelled as you entered the door to the employee's area. 

'Shit Shit shit shit.' you whispered to yourself as you regain composure. He felt way off. He didn't act like this toward you before. You could feel something odd between you two, and you're very distracted about it.

You made your way to your manager's office to request a five minute break. You knew he'd approve a breather from you because he was a accommodating to you since day one. You believed it's because you always give it your all in every shift.

You softly knock on his office door and pushed it slightly ajar, peeking your head through it as you saw him on his desk, doing some paperwork.

"Ah, Y/N. You need anything, love?" he greeted in his usual tone. His endearment didn't matter you as he calls every female "love".

"Can I take a five? Just needed to breathe." you huffed. He nodded in approval and stood up. 

"Let's puff it out, yeah?" he smiled as he offered a stick of cigarette.

The cold breeze of the Saturday evening wrapped around your work uniform. The noise from the bar was muffled but occasional screams would echo across the street. You exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke through your mouth as the relaxing feel of nicotine coursed through your system. Smoking was your go-to activity whenever you feel extreme unexplained emotions, such as seeing John MacTavish after a long time.

"Tough crowd?" Your manager turned his head to you as you casually leaned on the cold metal railing.

"Not really. I just saw someone I least expected to see." You retorted, pressing your lips against the cigarette butt as you closed your eyes and inhaled the vice.

"Someone you hate?" He queried. 

"Not necessarily. But at one point of my life, maybe... It's just... it's complicated." You complained, sighing at the thought of him once again. You mentally fought against yourself whether to reminisce or not, reminding yourself that the reason you went out here was to clear your head, not to fill it with memories of summer 4 years ago.

You fixed your posture and flicked off the cigarette butt to the ashtray. Your boss followed, escorting you back to the office. 

"Thanks for the company. I needed it." You thanked him as you crossed the street. He hummed in acknowledgement as he opened the door for you. You couldn't help but scan the room quickly for a mohawk, but he wasn't around. Maybe he went to the bathroom, you thought to yourself as you get back to your station.

9:59 pm. Your eyes trailed to the huge digital clock by the door, rapidly moving across the crowd still no mohawk in sight. This actually made you sad, he wasn't the kind of guy who dissappoints, you always saw him as a man of his word. You did confirm that he already paid for his tab about an hour and a half ago, just after your short break.

Guess you're going home alone. So much for ' I'll be here till then' you mentally argued, frowning as you wiped off the last glass in the tray.

10:00 pm. You sighed and lazily grabbed your time card and let the huge metal clock record your departure. You felt your energy quickly deplete due to the dissappointment that is John MacTavish.

"See you on Monday!" you waved goodbye to your coworkers who seemed to notice your sudden loss of energy. You push the back door slowly and stepped outside. It was getting cold and you weren't prepared for it.

"Hey." A low scottish accent muttered just beside you, making you yelp in surprise.

"Holy crap, you scared the shit out of me!" you angrily punched his strong arm, hurting yourself in the process.

"I'm sorry." he spoke lazily, almost tired or drunk. You couldn't exactly tell, but it was far from his tone earlier. 

"Pretty chilly, eh?" you asked him, imitating his accent. Something that you always considered a major turn on when it comes to him.

"A little bit. And your impression is way off, I don't say it like that." he retorted nonchalantly making you worry if something happened while he was waiting.

"You seem a little off, what's the problem?" you asked, playfully bumping him while you walked the empty streets on your way home.

"It's just... uh.. Nevermind." he trailed off, his secrecy was making you impatient and you stopped on your tracks. He continued walking, looking down at the ground until he noticed you're no longer beside him.

He turned back. "You forgot something?" 

"I don't get you." you raised your voice. He slowly walked back to you until he's just inches away from your face.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I should've just asked..."

"Asked what? You told me you'd stay here till my shift is over and then you're gone like that?" you complained, the tone of your voice was demanding and you could see him flinch when words hurt.

"I didn't want to raise suspicion." 

"Who would be suspicious of you?!"

"Shortly after you left, I took a smoke. But I didn't do it by the smoking area. I was way up here, enjoying the breeze." he said, turning to the smoking area which was very visible from up here. Was he sad because he saw you and your manager by the smoking area? What kind of eyes did he have? You didn't want to assume things so you started to supply him with questions to fill in the blanks.

"And? Was the area too sad for you to be all emo like that all of a sudden?" you complained, soing your best impression of an angry person, but you know deep inside that you couldn't get angry at this man.

"Yeah. You could say that." he chuckled. He couldn't even look at you anymore.

"Bullshit." you retorted. He slowly tilted his head and smiled as soon as your eyes met. The view was so gorgeous you almost felt like the world was in slow motion.

"You don't have to believe me if you want. Why are you walking with me home anyway. You could've said no. I bet he has some nice fancy car to drive you home." he blurted, fog started to huff out of his mouth as the snow started to fall from the sky.

"Where are you going with this, John?" you spat, letting the emotions get the best of you. If only he was clear enough then this wouldn't have happened.

"I saw the two of you smiling while talking, I thought to myself. Yeah, she's happy with that bloke huh, I wish I knew that before I invited her earlier." he breathed out. You almost felt guilty, but it wasn't your fault. He easily assumed things that weren't even true.

"What made you think we're together? Just because we're smoking together doesn't mean we're in a relationship. Is that what you thought?" you replied, fighting back helping him on his way to the truth.

He paused, it's as if his whole thought process was shattered when your words stung him. 

"I got jealous. To be fair, I was gone for 4 years... I always thought you already found someone else within that time." he frowned. It was not usual of him to feel this vulnerable.

"Look-" you tried to explain but you suddenly felt his warm embrace wrapped around you.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered. The same words he said before leaving 4 years ago. The same words that hurt you back then and the same words that's going to hurt you at this moment. He was the one that got away, he was the one whom you shared your most magical moments with, but not the one who's going to be there until the end. He'll have to leave anytime soon, as his job requires him to save the world. You told him he could settle for less risky world saving endeavors but he insisted that this was his purpose. And you were not willing to let him choose again.

"You know... you're not supposed to feel jealousy." you consoled, rubbing his well sculpted back. 

"I know... I couldn't help it." he whispered. 

"Let's get you home, John." you whisper to him as he pulls away from you, his face pouted like a baby whose candy got stolen.

"Why are you here anyway?" you added.

"I'm getting reassigned to a new task force. I figured I could say goodbye to someone I hold dear." he smirked, he felt normal, but then again you couldn't help but feel that this would be the last time you'll be seeing him. You we're thinking he won't be able to travel freely back here anymore or worse, he'll be the hero the world wanted him to be.

[opossumanonymous]

How did he get in this mess?

Warnings: Inko literally uses her quirk to pull out AFOs pubic hair because I don't think anything else would immobilize him temporarily, talk of inko using her quirk to pull organs, guns mentioned

I wrote this on my phone so sorry if anything looks funky for computer users. If I made any mistakes or any characters are too ooc please tell me. Also this is a fanfic featuring AFO as Midoriya Hizashi and Inko as a ex-Black Widow and mostly features them please enjoy!~

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

How did he get in this mess, face kissing the floor and completely caught off guard?

Hizashi wasn't quite sure himself actually. One minute he was doing some 'work' before he heard the voice of his wife over his shoulder.

"Hizashi, what are you doing?"

Then he was on the floor a nearly blinding pain spread over his body leaving him in fetal position unable to think of nothing else.

Once his mind got clear again he turned his head to the side looking up at the woman who he thought was his wife. Her usually gentle smile was gone leaving a cold look on her face as she read through his files. One of her hands out stretched towards him while the other clicked through the computer.

Which made him briefly realize he may have to put plan B into action but before that he had to know if this was his wife or someone else. Last thing he wanted was to do something reckless if this wasn't his wife.

"Who-" Before Hizashi could utter a word he felt another painful pull causing him to ball up even further trying to somehow ease the pain. He choked on air as Inko? Stared at him with a blank expression now turned away from the computer. She crossed her legs as she watched him wither in pain looking at with him cold emotionless green eyes.

Who was this woman she can't be Inko! It gave him brief fear realizing that a shape-shifting spy might have tricked him somehow. After all theres no way his sweet wife could ambush him, let alone be capable of hurting him this badly! But if this is someone with a shape-shifting quirk there's no way they would also have wife's quirk as well. Unless they can copy the quirks of people they shape-shift into but then-

"So was this what you were doing while I was comforting our son?"

His eyes widened at that realization, it hit Hizashi hard as he broke out in a cold sweat. He looked up at Inko who still had that chilling look on her face making Hizashi for the first time in 200 years feel...afraid.

He didn't know whether to be impressed at her or disgusted in himself, him, All for One, the symbol of evil, the villain who has brought many heros and villains alike to their knees is...afraid? It sounds unreal just thinking about it that someone could still scare him.

Not by much but still it was a feat that no one before her had done in a long time.

He felt like he was getting whiplash knowing that the same woman who cooked him breakfast nearly every morning, who cried at anything sad or happy, and cuddled up to him at night was looming over him like some villain.

"Hizashi speak up your mumbling." She spoke harshly as he felt another pull, he's starting to lose feeling in his legs.

"I already knew." He said breathless feeling defeated almost, yet another feat none before her had accomplished. He could almost hear his brother laughing from his grave at this point. "What?" Her forehead wrinkled the cold look leaving her face for a moment making her look more like the Inko he knew.

"I checked Izuku years ago, I had my suspicions when he didn't develop his quirk after he turned 5. While I can't tell what a quirk is if I don't know it, I can sense them." He told her truthfully "When I reached into his subconscious one night after I tucked him in bed, I found no sign of a quirk." He knew their was a chance Izuku would be quirkless anyway, Hizashi was from the first generation of quirk users after all.

But he would never give his son a quirk, no he's not going to let history repeat itself, if there's anything he's learned in his 200 years of life it's never give your hero loving relatives a quirk.

Plus being a hero is 10 times more dangerous now, no thanks to him, he'd rather his precious son live quirkless.

Despite the ridicule quirkless people get from society atleast he won't ever get badly hurt or worse killed. Luckily Hizashi had a back up plan just in case he needed to protect his family from themselves.

But seeing Inko looming above him is starting to make him think about adding more reinforcements to the vault. After all she's not so much of a gullible woman like he once thought she was.

"I see but that doesn't change anything, you weren't there for our baby when he needed you most. That's why after this you're going to march into our sons room and comfort him like a good father should." He almost winched at her harsh tone. He honestly didn't know if he should be scared or not. He did still have an arsenal of quirks he could use but none that were non lethal from a long range he could use on her.

"And if I don't, what will you do?" He was curious in all honesty after all it's not every day your usually gentle and emotional wife does a 360 degree personality change on you.

"Then I'll keep ripping out your pubic hairs till you comply." He felt a slight tug again at the slight flick of her wrist causing him to flinch.

He had felt tempted to challenge her, now realizing it was a mistake seeing as she has him by the balls...literally.

"And if you try anything...well you'll be surprised at how many organs count as a small objects." She said with a chilling smile which he almost hates to admit made him flinch.

He always knew her quirk was suspicious despite only being limited to small objects it could still be a deadly quirk if used right. The number of deadly weapons considered small objects was big and considering she only needs a vague idea of where an object is located to pull it to her which includes organs...Hizashi's starting to realize he didn't really know his wife like he thought he did.

After all who would've guessed his sweet Inko would use her quirk so...creatively. He nodded, head still pressed to the hard wood floor of his office.

Inko gave a sigh of relief as she genuinely smiled running her hand through her green locks. "Good I'm glad we could come to an agreement." Hizashi felt the release of her quirk as she sat back legs still crossed.

He slowly sat on all fours before rising to his knees still feeling phantom pains with each slight movement.

Once he was on his knees he wrapped his arms around her waist laying his head in her stomach. She gently caressed his head of white curls causing him to sink further into her and let out a content hum. After a while he looked up at her, the cold look on her face gone now taking a more softer expression.

"I knew you where a villain since the first week after we got married." Hizashi didn't think Inko could shock him anymore but that honestly got him, and yet again she conquered another feat.

He would have never guessed that she knew about him being a villain before now. "Honestly I felt like I got rusty since I found out so late, but I guess living a normal civilian life will make anyone like that." She smiled gently at him looking more like the Inko he knew. Or atleast thought he knew, she was one of the most ordinary people he met from her average nursing job to her adorable naiveté at times.(which he now knows was probably just an act) She played him like a fiddle, he underestimated her and made him fall even harder for her.

That's right, he didn't think it was possible to love her even more than he already did, but this moment proved that wrong.

"Wait then if you knew why did you stay and why wait until now to bring it up?"

She furrowed her eyebrows again before turning her head away from him thinking about her answer for a second before looking back. "I'm not exactly who I said I was either..." She trailed off with a far away look in her eyes almost like she was looking through him and not at him.

He took her hand which had stopped rubbing his head and brought it to his cheek. This seemed to help her focus again as she gave him a tired smile.

"I'm not a good person either Hizashi I've done alot of things that I now regret." For a moment he guessed that she was an ex-villain that he'd just never heard of.

Although that was very unlikely seeing as he liked to keep tabs on most high profile villains to find anyone with good...potential. Inko definitely wasn't a low class villain she just didn't fit the profile of a bank robber or common street thug. Her aura gave off a more experienced air to it not to mention no low class villain would have the guts to look him in the eye once finding out who he really is.

"I was once apart of an organization who specialized in training those considered...unless in society." The way she said useless held a malice to it despite her still having a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"They kidnapped me and many other young girls most of them either being quirkless or having 'weak' quirks." Quirkless trafficking while rare nowadays still went on but he'd never heard of an organization making quirkless people assassins. Wlep there's a first time for everything he guessed.

"They trained and raised all of us to be assassins, to put it simply, they chose us because they knew we'd be underestimated."

Assassins? If someone had told him is lovely wife was secretly an assassin he'd laugh in their face before killing them for saying such a thing. But now after being brought to his knees by her he honestly isn't surprised, at this point he'd believe anything that came out of her mouth. She could tell him she could kill someone with only a plastic spoon and he'd believe her.

"I was one of the lucky ones i was able to escape before my 'graduation' if you could call it that. I was even able to find my birth certificate after months of digging through missing persons reports." She now went back to stroking his white curls as she spoke.

"After escaping I decided to live the life my mother wanted me to or at least I like to think she'd want me to." He knew she was an orphan, she'd told him that on their second date he never thought much about it.

He never even really looked into her mother much either only knowing that she died when Inko was young and that she was Nana Shimura's sister. When he found this out at first he was suspicious but over time he let his guard down, if that was a mistake is still up for debate.

"They called us Black Widows." He'd heard that name before but it's been so long, last time he heard the words Black Widow he was reading a comic book to his sick brother. It's either unoriginal or genius considering most will only think of the comic book hero Black Widow opposed to it being a real organization.

Finally getting the feeling back in his legs he stood up stretching slightly while she watched him. He stared down at her now that he had the high ground it was time to give her what she deserved.

He leaned down towards her his hands coming up to her face menacingly. But she just sat there unfazed with a serene look on her face, their was no real use in trying she knew he wouldn't hurt her. He held her face as he leaned in and gave her lips a gentle kiss.

After pulling away he took her hand and helped her out of his office chair. "Now time to go see about Izuku hopefully I can get him out of his depressed mood."

Giving her a true smile only reserved for his family he lead her out of his office not before shutting down his computer and locking the door.

"Yes please talk to him because I didn't know what to do than to apologize to him." She sighed clearly distressed. "While it has been a long time since I escaped somethings I still just don't know the right words for." She looked defeated like she didn't just have Japan's greatest villain nearly kissing her feet.

"It's fine darling soon Izuku will go back to being that happy kid again, you'll see." He gave her a final kiss before heading to Izukus room ready to help his son or else face the wraith of his wife.

He briefly wondered just how good of an assassin his wife is and just how many she's killed. But quickly shook those thoughts away as he entered his son's All Might themed room.

While he'd never ask her anything more about her past as a Black Widow he soon came to realize she was highly skilled as he watched his son on TV.

He was watching UAs sports festival with Tomura at his current hideout the boy exclaiming in shock at this year's winner.

The one to take first place was UAs first quirkless student Midoriya Izuku who took out the competition with only a pair of electroshock bracelets as wepons.

Not to say that it was only the support tools that secured his win, the way he bended dodging attacks and hit his opponents with devastating blows to the head made him nearly laugh out loud.

It was almost hard to believe that this was the same kind boy he once tucked in bed but he had to admit his son was quite reckless.

He's in all honesty proud of his son especially for beating Mizuki's brat whose bullied his poor son for years. While he isnt happy that his son's well on his way to being a hero atleast Inko trained him well.

Just how did Hizashi get in this mess he'd hoped quirklessness would make his son reconsider being a hero but it seems Inko had other plans.

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

Extras:

So originally Inko was gonna hold him at gun point but I felt like AFO wouldn't be sacred of a gun so....

Also Inko has wepons (mostly guns) hidden in every wall in the apartment after all you never know when the red room might strike.

Inko still gets chubby but not from stress over Izuku being quirkless it's more so over the red room possibly finding him and taking him. She's still bad ass tho, can kill anyone with a just plastic spoon.

She also ran away from the red room before they could sterilize her.

Izuku does eventually get One for all but it's after the sports festival instead, tho he does still parade as a quirkless hero even after One for all.

He also is a vigilante on the side under the name Black Widow tho most think he's a girl because of the Black Widow reference. He even wears his mom's old Black Widow suit.

You could say he's hero Deku by day and vigilante Black Widow by night!

AFO totally knows it's him tho because he knows Inko wouldn't be that reckless or feral.

Izuku has no idea his loving father is AFO but knows his mom's an ex-assassin.

[authorialarcanist]

It Seems I'll Never Understand (Kagerou Project)

Genre: Angst

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Tateyama Ayano x Kisaragi Shintaro

Summary: "...Hey, Shintaro. Why'd you do it? I mean... You could have stayed out of it. It wasn't your fight."

In a world where Shintaro Kisaragi was the one who killed himself on that fateful august day two years prior, Ayano isn't sure what she can do with her life. Living in fear of the Snake of Clearing Eyes, all she can do is think back on the past, and wonder - why it was that her best friend took her place when she's sure he must have hated her, and when was it that it all went wrong.

Shinaya roleswap with a focus on making it work with as few changes to canon as possible.

---

It’s late - late enough that it’s gotten truly dark out. I’m walking along the road to my home, a boy next to me. The bridge we’re crossing seems to stretch out endlessly into the distance, illuminated only by the moon and the street-lamps we’re passing by.

I fiddle with my scarf absentmindedly as I steal a glance at his face. I’m so glad… I was finally able to become friends with him. Or, well… maybe ‘friends’ isn’t the right word just yet. To him, I’m sure I’m still just that stupid girl who made him tutor her for hours after class.

Still… I tell myself that this is the most important first step. Mm-hm. Now that I’ve introduced myself, I’m sure that we’ll be friends - real friends - in no time at all.

“You really saved my life! I never would’ve been able to finish that problem set on my own.” I grin weakly as my babbling inevitably turns to self-deprecation. Ah, well… after my terrible performance back there, trying to act cool for my new friend was a lost cause already. Well, if this was a manga, at least this might be the part where the aloof genius breaks character to reassure me that I can do it?

“Even with my help, it took you way too long…” He sighs. “Geez. I only came here to get my wallet, too. I must be really unlucky.”

—Yeah, right. I’ve only known this guy for a few hours now, but it’s pretty obvious that tender support isn’t his strong suit.

“I really am sorry…” I shrink a little under his criticism. “But! I promise, I won’t forget about today!”

“What are you saying? Didn’t you just say you forget things no matter how much you study?” Ow… I guess I did say that, but… he really has no faith in me at all, huh?

But he just doesn’t get it! Not quite panicking, I redouble my efforts to explain myself. “Today’s special! I’m going to try extra hard not to forget, so it’ll be okay!”

He hums in contemplation and stares away into the distance. And then—

—“Liar.”

I recoil from the sudden accusation. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You’ve broken your promise already, haven’t you? You can’t even remember my name.”

He picks up his pace, and though I try to follow, I can’t seem to move forward.

“Huh? Of course I can!”

“Really? Then why haven’t you said it?”

“Why are you so focused on that all of a sudden?”

“Say it, Ayano.”

“Stop it!”

“Say my name.”

“I— You’re—“ Tears spill from my eyes. I’m trying to say it. Why — why is this happening? Why couldn’t we just keep walking together, chatting about nothing important, like friends do?

“…Yeah. I thought so.” He stops walking, and for some reason, I freeze as well. I have no choice but to watch his back as he speaks. “I guess it’s not your fault, though. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “But… Try to remember, okay?”

He turns to face me again.

His eyes are red.

“If you can’t remember soon, then—“

——

Knock. Knock. Knock. Three hesitant raps on my door.

The sound wakes me from my dream. Already, it’s growing too hazy to remember. All I can say for certain is that hewas there.

He’s always there in my dreams. Maybe it’s some cruel balance for the fact that he’ll never be there again in real life.

“Ayano?”

At the sound of the voice calling for me, I turn over in my bed and bury my face in my pillow, trying not to make any sound to indicate that I’m awake.

“Ayano, please, I know you’re in there. I just want to talk.”

I don’t respond. My father is dead. That’s the best way to think of it. The safest way to think of it. Even when the snake lets him out, it’s only in the hopes of getting me to snap.

“Ayano, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the best father to you, since your mother died. But please, I just want to know what happened. What happened to Shuuya and Tsubomi and Kousuke. Why you won’t talk to me. Ayano, please.”

My hands clench against the pillow. I force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

“Ayano…”

In.

Out.

“…Just… think about it, okay? I’m here, if you’re ever ready to talk. Even if you need another two years, I’ll still be here.”

A lie. Dad won’t be here. Just the snake.

“…I love you.”

I stay silent, waiting until the sound of footsteps fades from my hearing. No matter how many times I go through this, it never gets any easier. But… I can’t talk to him.

Even if the snake wasn’t privy to his every thought, I can’t bring myself to speak with the man who sold my world.

“…Is… he gone?” A tinny voice whispers from my computer’s speaker.

I listen for a moment. When nothing happens, I nod. “Yeah.”

My computer monitor lights up as it exits sleep mode, and a girl in blue peeks out from her hiding place behind a browser window. “…I still don’t understand why you don’t leave here, Ayano-chan…”

I shake my head. “I… I just can’t. I’m sorry, Ene.” Ene… that’s what this girl calls herself. About a year ago, she popped out of an email and decided to stick around. She tried to put on this sassy, hyper front at first, but it fell apart pretty quickly.

I’m pretty sure I know who she really is, after all. And she knows I know. I just haven’t been cruel enough to push the topic.

It’s not like she has much of anywhere else to go, after all.

“…Okay. I get it.” She looks down at the taskbar and pokes her index fingers together. “Just… hang in there, okay, Ayano-chan? Do your best.”

“Like my best has ever mattered,” I mumble, and sit down at my computer chair. To be honest, my activities since dropping out of school two years ago have been nothing, nothing, and a heaping dessert of nothing. It’s not like I have any sort of online life to speak of, even. It’s just that… ultimately, there’s nothing else to do when I’m living under the same roof as my father. I can’t risk going outside at the wrong time and having to face him. At least he respects the boundaries of my room; and the snake finds it convenient to leave me a sanctuary under his supervision for as long as he doesn’t have any need of me.

“…So, um… Ayano-chan?” Ene glances up at me, a little shyly. “Can I ask about whether…”

Ah. That. I shake my head. “…I’m sorry. I’ve tried talking to him while my father was away, but Konoha really doesn’t seem to remember anything about us.” Konoha… the white-haired boy the Clearing Eyes took in really is just another reminder of my failures. Still, I know that’s not hisfault, and I can’t really blame Ene for being too scared to check up on him herself. Talking to him hurts badly enough for me, and I still hadn’t been quite as close to Haruka as she was. Honestly though, whenever I’d felt safe enough to slip out and check on him, Konoha had seemed pretty nonresponsive. Forget remembering me and Ene; he didn’t seem to remember anything, not even basic things like rain.

“I see…” Ene droops. This happens every time she brings up Konoha; as much as she’s tried to be around for me, I don’t have the first idea how to comfort her when this topic comes up.

Well, honestly, I don’t think I’m in a place to be comforting much of anyone. Back when I tried all those years ago, it only ended in pain.

In the end, I go with the tried and true method of pretending I didn’t see anything. When there’s nothing you can do, acknowledging the problem only ends in more tears, after all. I pass the day mindlessly browsing the web and making more paper cranes for the army that chokes every available surface in my room. Occasionally, I can’t help but fantasize about what things might be like if I had Paper-Animating Eyes. Sending an army of little origami birds to get revenge on the Clearing Eyes… it’d definitely be a more efficient way of getting a wish granted.

Ah well.

At least my father has work during the day and the snake has better things to do than waste time in this lonely house during the nighttime, so I’m able to check on Konoha and grab something from the kitchen for lunch on most days. That’s particularly important, because dinner can be much more spotty, depending on whether my father is in a “bury his problems in work” mood or a “try desperately to be present to make up for selling his soul to an evil snake” one. Well, okay, I really don’t know how much he’s able to retain about what the Clearing Eyes does when in control of his body, but if he really is oblivious about everything that might actually be worse.

Unfortunately he seems to be in a “try to atone” cycle right now, so I’m running off of a single meal when the knocks return once again.

“Ayano.”

Ene hides behind the browser window again, and I click off of the tab showing a video of a mongoose taking down a snake.

…What? Look, I have to deal with the spite somehow.

“I know you’re in there.”

I stay silent.

“I’ve got another mission for you, Ayano. You know the deal by now.”

I freeze. This isn’t dad.

“I trust I don’t need to spell it out for you?”

It’s the other one.

“I’m waiting.Or is this some pathetic attempt at rebellion? If so, I have to applaud. It’s the most pointless one yet.”

I finally find my voice. “I-I understand.”

“Heh. Good.” The snake chuckles. “Two children are coming to stay in this house soon. Your father’s sister-in-law, and some hanger-on. When they’re here, you’re going to be the model of a big sister, understand? Get them to trust you, and then make sure they’re in a certain place on August fifteenth.”

I shrink in on myself. Children? Please, no…

“I said, understand?You know what’ll happen to your family if you refuse…”

“N-no!” I shoot to my feet in panic. “No… I understand…”

“Good.” What should be my father’s voice drips with malice. “See? Wasn’t that easy? Goodbye, Ayano.” Saying the last two words in an odd sing-song voice, the snake leaves. I collapse back into my chair, hugging myself.

“A-ayano-chan…” Ene peeks back out from her hiding spot.

I turn to her with wide eyes.

“Ayano-chan, you don’t have to do this. Please, we can fight back. I’ll help you.”

…If only. But no, I know it’s hopeless.

I can’t fight the snake. All I can do is delay the inevitable.

I shake my head, and start disconnecting the speakers from my computer. If Ene tried to do something brave, and the Clearing Eyes found out…

“…Ayano, please…”

I pull the plug on my monitor. Ene may still have access to the inside of my computer, but the most she’ll be able to do in the house is open and close the CD drive.

“…sorry…” I whisper quietly to myself, even though I know she can’t hear me.

God, how did things turn out this way?

——

I have many precious memories, moments I’ve spent these past two years trying desperately not to forget. Reading storybooks at bedtime with my mom. Meeting my little siblings for the first time. The way my dad’s face used to look when he’d play with us, long before everything happened.

If you were to look through those treasured days, flipping from one to another as though they were files secreted away in a lockbox, one might still stand out from the rest. Perhaps it’s laminated, or hidden behind a false back. Not because it’s more precious than the others - I wouldn’t trade my family for anything - but because it’s unique nonetheless. A moment elevated in its rarity, and in the pain it brings me - not the dull ache of my mom’s face, nor the stabbing betrayal of my father’s failures and mine, but a gaping void of ‘what if’s.

The first time I ever got to see Shintaro smile.

It was during our second year of middle school, a couple months after the day I finally introduced myself. The last test I’d gotten back had been my lowest score yet, and with exams rushing to meet me, I was honestly in a panic.

But then, Shintaro’d spoken up. For the very first time, he gave me a totally unprompted offer to help me study.

“Thank you so much,” I’d sobbed. “I don’t know what I was gonna do…”

“Ugh, don’t be annoying about it!” He’d refused to meet my eyes as he grumbled. “I just know that if you failed your exams I’d somehow get dragged into helping you catch back up. It’s just easier to get this over with this early, alright?”

Whatever his stated reasons, I still felt like I’d been saved when he stuck around to help me pound the latest lessons into my skull. And I don’t know if we finished faster than usual, if something good had happened to him at home, or if his guard was just down that day for some other reason, but one way or another, he decided to stick around and chat for a bit afterwards.

I can still picture it clearly. That sunny classroom, me perched on my desk to bask in the light from the window, him leaning his chair back as we killed time… and the glint of light that drew my eye to the spine of a book just peeking out of his bag.

“Hm? Hey, Shintaro?”

“What?” He glanced lazily back at me.

I tilted my head to read what I could from the spine. It rung a bell; I’d overheard some of the other girls in our class talking about it from time to time. “Isn’t that ‘Let’s Fall In Love’?”

“HUH?” I winced at the sudden crash as Shintaro lost his balance and fell in a heap.

“Ah! Are you okay? I’m sorry!” I rushed to help him up, but he just scrambled back until he was pressed against the wall.

“W-w-w-what are you talking about? I-I don’t, I mean, that’s not—“ Shintaro grabbed suddenly for his bag, but his hand missed its mark and sent the contents spilling out as it toppled over instead. The book landed face up, its cover proudly displaying a drawing of a boy and a girl standing together in a very shoujo-esque artstyle. Emblazoned above the picture was ‘Let’s Fall in Love ~ by Yumeno Sakiko.’

“Umm…”

“I mean! It’s Momo’s! Yeah! My little sister wouldn’t stop pestering me, so I picked up her copy for her, uh-huh! I definitely don’t read shoujo manga!” His stuttering picked up pace as he scrambled for excuses, and I couldn’t help it - some part of me kinda wanted to watch him squirm for a little longer.

So, I grinned slyly and searched my memory of my classmates’ conversations. “Uh-huh? You know, with how Mamiko and Oze were talking in the latest chapter, don’t you think there might be a chance they’ll—“

“THAT’S HERESY!” Shintaro slammed his hands down on the ground, and I winced at the sudden spike in volume. “Mamiko and Suzuki are meantto be together!” He clenched his fist and held it to his chest. “I can’t imagine how anyone would think otherwise after that moment in volume 7! And anyways, Oze and Waka may be having a fight right now, but everyone… knows…” He trailed off as my control failed me and I started to giggle. “…Fine. You caught me. Happy now?”

At the sight of him forcing down a pout and struggling to regain a serious expression, I laughed even harder.

“…So I like shoujo manga. Is it really that funny to you?”

“No, no! I’m sorry!” I did my best to get myself under control. “It’s not that, honestly. You just looked so earnest, and then you kept trying to hide it… If reading that sort of thing makes you happy, then I think that’s a goodthing! It’s actually kinda c—“ I suddenly realized what I was about to say, and blushed heavily. “—I mean, it’s kinda cool! Yeah! You shouldn’t worry what other people will think about your interests, you know?” Oh yeah, that was an absolutely stellarsave, Ayano. Absolutely nobody was gonna suspect that you almost called your classmate ‘cute’ without thinking. Aside from, I dunno, people with eyes.

Thankfully, all of that intelligence must have come out of Shintaro’s perceptiveness instead, because he let it pass without comment. “So…” Shintaro seemed to be looking anywhere in the room other than my face, which might have helped the whole ‘not noticing my face doing a bonfire impression’ thing. “Do… you also read it, then?”

“Huh?”

“Y, you know! ‘Let’s Fall in Love’!”

“A, ah! Right!” I snapped out of my thoughts. Right, let’s just pretend that slip never happened for now, and I can unpack whatever the heck it meant on my own time, when I won’t make my one school friend think I’m even more of a weirdo than he already does. “Ehehe… Not really, actually.” I scratched the back of my head and grinned sheepishly. “I was just parroting something I overheard. I’m more into the shounen stuff, you know? Hot-blooded super sentai fighting to save the world, and all that.”

“Really? But they’re so formulaic. You can see everything coming from a mile away. And how do those guys get through posing dressed like that and not die of embarrassment?”

Well, I couldn’t just sit there and take that. “What? Hold on a moment, like your mushy stuff is any better! Aren’t they all just ‘boy meets girl, cue nothing happening for the rest of their school lives’?”

“Wh— they are not!There’s nuanceand relationship growth and everything!” Woah. Shintaro was looking about the most fired up I’d ever seen him! At that thought, an idea clicked in my head.

“Hmm… Alright, then!” I grinned at him and gave a sharply enunciated chuckle, heh-heh-heh. “Why don’t you tell me more about this series, and if you manage to change my mind I’ll give reading it a try? And then, in return, you’ll watch an episode of Engine Sentai Go-Onger with me, and we’ll see how you feel about heroes after that!”

Shintaro rose to the challenge. “Fine! Come on then, I’ll teach you about why Yumeno-sensei is a master! I mean, her portrayal of Mamiko’s inner struggles alone touches the heart, even for a boy like me! There’s this moment in chapter 12 when she…” He lit up as he talked, gesturing wildly with the plot points. I’m a little ashamed to say that I actually stopped paying attention after a few moments, because my focus suddenly seemed drawn to his face. He was grinning - actually grinning, the first genuine smile I’d seen from him in, well, ever- as he opened up about his interest.

I can only remember thinking two things as we walked home that day.

The first was, ‘What a pretty smile.’

The second was, ‘…oh. Crap.’

…So, yeah. It looked like I maybe had a teeny little crush. That was okay! It was fine! It meant I was finally starting to grow up, right? Anyways, whatever Shintaro’s romance manga said, I was pretty sure that people were supposed to get a lot of those with time. They didn’t have to mean anything, or, y’know, gamble their only real non-family friendships on the chance that someone who was really smart and cute would still want to hang out with a dumb girl they barely tolerated helping out if she asked.

Not a problem! I’d just go about my life as normal, and it’d fade in time. Eventually, I’d probably look back on this day and laugh.

…And if in the meantime, I wanted to see him smiling like that again? Well, that could be my little secret.

——

Of course, let nobody accuse me of being a good planner. Obviously, the darn thing only seemed to get stronger with time. Wanting to see Shintaro smile because I wanted him to be happy slowly morphed into wanting to be the reasonhe was smiling like that. Hoping that maybe, if I could be the one to make this lonely boy smile, that’d mean I was actually worth somethingreally the hero I pretended to be.

Mom died, and I had to be the strength for the whole family as dad seemed like half his world had gone missing, but no matter how much I needed comfort of my own, I wasn’t ready to tell him.

We met Takane and Haruka, and one friend turned into three, but even though I’d only be gambling 33% instead of 100, I was still too scared to tell him.

And then I found out that dad had changed, what the thing in his body had planned for Haruka and Takane and my siblings, and suddenly my stupid little feelings didn’t seem so important. I had to research the read eyes, and I needed Shuuya to cover for me, and in the end I didn’t have the attention to spare for my friend my crush my…

…for Shintaro. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice our growing distant. Why I didn’t notice things growing strained.

Why I didn’t notice that I really was just burdening him with my own expectations.

Didn’t notice until a hill at sunset, a hand snatched away, his back receding into the distance while I stood alone.

After that, I wondered about a lot of things. How much had been genuine, and how much really had just been putting up with me. How much of my motives had been pure, and how much had been that dark little thrill of seeing him down and feeling like I was still needed.

How cruel it must have been, to plan what I was planning and still try to hold onto his hand until the last minute.

So I didn’t try again. I delegated as much school time as I could to Shuuya (and carefully didn’t wonder why his face was growing more stressed, why his own time seemed to draw thin.) I withdrew further, and dedicated everything I had to my lonely mission. August fifteenth came all too soon at last, and I shoved my responsibilities onto Takane, told her to be honest with her feelings even as I swore that my own were better ignored. I wrapped my scarf around my neck, the colour of a hero, I steeled myself and turned to mount the stairs, and I was interrupted.

“Shuuya? What are you doing?” My little brother had arrived in front of me, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath.

“N, neechan, please!” Panting, Shuuya raised his eyes to meet mine. They glistened with tears. “You have to— you have to stop Shintaro-kun! He’s about to do something really stupid!”

“Huh?” I was taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s already gone to the roof! I couldn’t do anything! Neechan, please!”

“The roof?” I still didn’t understand, but I burst into a run anyways, leaving my brother behind. Why was Shintaro even here today, when he didn’t need summer school? Why did Shuuya know about it? What could he be doing on the roof, other than…?

He wasn’t involved. God, please, he wasn’t involved, why was he here?

I took the steps two at a time, ignoring the pain shooting through my lungs, and had no choice but to stop for breath and lean against the wall for a moment when I finally reached the door leading outside.

My father’s voice filtered in from outside. No - not my father. The thingwearing his skin. “Honestly, kid.” He sounded mildly exasperated, like my dad did whenever a student had turned in a particularly baffling answer on a quiz. “You think that you’re gonna be the big damn hero? You really think there’s a single thing you can do here to beat me?”

“No.” Shintaro, this time. “Honestly, it’s a stupid plan. Totally useless in every way. But hey.” A dark chuckle. “Objectively speaking, the life of a rotten boy like me is just worthless enough to make it worth trying.”

I’d finally caught my breath, but at that it caught in my throat. Did he mean—

I burst through the door, screaming, “Shintaro, NO!” The roof was empty except for two people. My father, standing on solid ground looking mildly vexed. And Shintaro, clad in that red jersey I’d said I liked, the color of a hero, sitting perched half-on the fence around the edge of the roof and half dangling over open air.

His eyes met mine, and no matter how hard I try I know I’ll never forget the way his face clouded over, the way his eyes darkened, or the words he said to me at that moment.

“…Oh.

“Ayano.

“The very last person I wanted to see.”

His final curse delivered, he leaned back. The world distorted around him, horrible discordant red tearing open fangs in the sky.

And he fell.

I must have screamed, but it’s a blur. I just know that by the time I came to, I’d fallen on my knees, and the thing that took my father was laughing.

Laughing.

“Ha! You kids never fail to surprise me, you know that? I never once would have expected that depressing little thing to get up off his ass and do something like this!” He paused. “Well okay, I guess I would, but the part where he tried to stand up to me was still new.”

Before I even knew what I was doing, I’d jumped to my feet and was tackling him. “SHUT UP!”

“Whoops!” Somehow, my father’s body stepped out of the way before I could react. I found myself impacting concrete and rolling on the roof, scrapes all over my body where I’d fallen. “Come on, brat. You’re a big girl now, you should be used to hearing swear words by now. Or wait, are you angry about the boy?”

With a wordless scream, I threw myself at him again, but this time he casually stuck out a leg and tripped me.

“You might still have time to save him, you know. Throw yourself off the roof after him, and maybe you could convince him to come on out and bring me that snake he stole.” He sneered. “Of course, it’d mean making this whole little sacrifice play all for nothing. And this guy” he tapped the side of my father’s head, “might even willingly help me kill the brat if you did! Oh, now thatdespair would be delicious to see.”

I swallowed the pain as my fists clenched, scraped raw though they were. “…Shut up. You… you’re just trying to convince me because you know your plan’s finished. You can’t gather the snakes now. There’s no… no more reason to kill Takane and Haruka, or the others.”

*snrk.* The monster covered his mouth with a hand.

“What’s supposed to be so funny?”

“Ha! Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just… you think this kid managed to save your friends? Please.” He rolled his eyes. “He was too late. They’re already dead.” He shrugged and continued in a sing-song voice. “And anyways, the boy was a goner already. You should be thankingme; this way, at least he has a chanceof living for another year or two.”

“W…what…?” I slumped, the fight draining from my veins. No. It couldn’t be. Takane and Haruka… they were gone, too?

My “father” walked up to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. To anyone watching, it might have just looked like a father comforting his daughter; but I could feel his fingers dig into my flesh in a vice grip. “Still, working this all back out from the top is going to be a pain. And that’s not even counting all of the cleanup I have to do! It’s one thing for those other two kids; I’d made preparations for them. But spinning the sudden disappearance of this brat, too? No, that’s far too much work.” He crouched down until he was level with me, a too-wide smile on his face. A shiver ran down my spine. “So, Ayano.I’m going to have you do me a little favor, alright? And before you consider trying to do something brave, consider just who it is that has your family’s life in his hands, hmm? Don’t say anything; just nod.” I nodded, stricken. Everything I’d planned had come to nothing in a few short minutes. “You’re going to find Shuuya for me, and you’re going to have him go make himself look like this guy -“ he waved vaguely at the empty edge of the roof - “’s body for me. A suicide should be easy enough to explain away. Especially when the victim was as gloomy-looking as this asshole here. Honestly, people’re gonna think it was a miracle he lasted as long as he did.” My fists clenched again at relentless slander, but there was nothing I could do. I was totally and utterly defeated. “You got it, Ayano? Do this, and I’ll let the people you care about live a little longer.” He chuckled. “…Well, what’s left of them, at least. Hahahaha!”

How could I have ever thought I could be a hero? All I’d managed to do was arrive too late to save either of the snake’s intended victims, and drag a bystander to his death in the process.

In the end, tears streaming down my face, all I could do was nod.

——

“Neechan!” Shuuya rushed up to me the minute I exited the school. He grabbed my hands - I didn’t resist - and gasped at the scrapes all over them. “What happened to you? Where’s Shintaro-kun?”

“Shintaro— He’s—“ My voice caught.

“Nee…chan…?” I could see the exact moment Shuuya caught on. His eyes widened and his face fell, all in one motion. “Dammit! And just when the guy starts to convince me he’s not all bad, he has to go and do something like this…” His hands tightened involuntarily around mine, but I couldn’t even find the energy to wince.

I spoke in a flat voice, forcing myself to put one word in front of the next. “Shuuya. There’s something very important I need you to do.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“You need to use your power to turn into Shintaro. Let somebody discover ‘his’ body, so there’ll be a record. If you don’t, then… then he’ll…” My voice caught again, but I forced myself to continue before Shuuya could ask any questions. “And then there’s one more thing you need to do. I need you to take Tsubomi and Kousuke, and go away. Go somewhere far away from here, and don’t— don’t tell me anything about where you’re going. You can’t contact me at all, okay? I can’t have any way to find out more about you.”

“W—what?”

“It’s the only way that you’re going to be safe. I… we can’t stop the Clearing Eyes. He can have you all killed in a moment.”

Shuuya must have been able to see the seriousness in my eyes, because he didn’t try to debate the point. “Okay, but… Why can’t you come with us? We can all run, that’ll be safer!”

I just shook my head. “…No. He… he’ll find me, somehow. He knew how to respond to everything that I tried. Anything I do… no matter what, I’m sure he’ll…” I hugged myself and started slowly walking towards the path home. It was clear to me now. I was nothing more than a puppet dancing on the Clearing Eyes’ strings.

“W-wait, Neechan! Come back!”

“Goodbye, Shuuya. Please don’t forget to do what I told you. Consider it… My final request as your sister.”

“NEECHAN!”

——

“…Hey, Shintaro. Why’d you do it?”

I lie on my back, staring at the empty ceiling as I talk to the air.

“I mean… You could have stayed out of it. It wasn’t your fight.”

The cranes crowding every surface above me seem to swirl and distort, like a heat haze.

My head keeps playing his final moments on repeat. Even as the happy days grow dimmer and dimmer, I can’t seem to forget his last words no matter how hard I try.

‘The very last person I wanted to see.’

“If… if you hated me so much, why didn’t you just let me be the one to jump? Why take my place?”

I wonder… if I’d been the one to jump that day, would he have been able to do what I couldn’t? I indulge in a brief fantasy of Shintaro, red jacket flapping behind him, standing tall with my siblings as they face down the Clearing Eyes together.

…Somehow, I just can’t see it. Sorry, Shintaro.

‘The life of a rotten boy like me is worthless’

“…Did you hate yourselfthat much? Were you so sick of life that you grabbed the first excuse you could find?”

…Maybe. But… somehow, as much as he tried to shut the world out, I can’t help but see Shintaro as someone who was brimming with life underneath it all. At the very least, whenever he talked about his sister, he didn’t seem like he’d want to leave her.

The thought of Momo-chan makes me wince. Another memory, this time of her crying and screaming at me when I’d tried to comfort her.

When I’d broken down and sobbed that it was all my fault.

I can’t blame her for hating me. To be honest, I wonder if it wasn’t what I was secretly hoping for.

Just another case where Ayano’s self-satisfaction came before actually doing her job.

My alarm clock rings. I’d set it instead of my phone, to make sure Ene couldn’t try and be a hero. (I can’t help but hope that she’s given up on me, and found her way to somebody who’ll be a better friend.) It means that the children…

…my victims…

…should be arriving soon.

I push myself to my feet. In the end, even blaming myself is just pointless self-satisfaction. I’ve made the choice to play this role; I made the decision that these two children were worth less than the family I know and care about.

It doesn’t take too long to get myself presentable. I choose an outfit that looks like its owner hasn’t been in hiding for the last two years, and glance at my scarf, hanging wrinkled and dusty on a hook.

My hands shake.

And I turn away without touching it. I don’t deserve to wear that color.

Not when red is the color of blood.

“Sorry, Shintaro. Guess you made the wrong trade, in the end. Even a genius like you makes mistakes, huh?”

With that snide remark, I turn my back on his sacrifice and walk out into the house.

…Still, a thought flits across my mind.

—Ah, I would have liked to see that smile, just one more time.

The doorbell rings. It’s time.

I hide my feelings behind a smile, painting it from ear to ear.

And I open the front door.

[oumaheroes]

Earthbound: Matthew’s Story

Context:

Hundreds of years after the fall of Earth, mankind is slowly starting to return. Some people have a stronger urge to return than others, confused by fragments of memories from a life already lived.

Full fic can be found here.

Arthur’s story can be found here.

-----

Matthew is four. His family have got their first dog and it’s a large, fluffy creature, all flank and tail and teeth. Matthew is horrified, at first, at this large thing that has suddenly appeared in his house, and he cries and tries to get away from it when it approaches him in the living room.

‘Just come say hello,’ Daddy says, hoisting him up to sit on his knees and taking his small hand in his larger one. His father’s body curls around him and, enveloped in arms, Matthew feels safe. His daddy reaches out his hand, thus, Matthew’s hand, giant thumb in the middle of his palm so that it is pinned there, and holds it aloft in front of the creature.

A large wet nose immediately descends and Matthew squeals because it is cold and strange and scary and Daddy shushes him, bouncing him on a knee. ‘He won’t bite’, Daddy says, ‘I won’t let him hurt you. He’s just trying to say hello; doggies say hello a little differently, is all.’

He kisses Matthew’s temple and rocks him, gently. ‘Want to try again?’

He is not but he nods and says yes because he wants to be brave and strong and he trusts Daddy, he does, or he really really wants to. At his reply, Daddy holds out their hands again, in front of the thing’s mouth, and whispers soothing nothings in Matthew’s ear- he’s not paying attention, too focused on the mouth with the teeth.

The creature snuffles their hands before giving them a lick, pink rough tongue and slobber; Matthew gasps, surprised, and then laughs. Daddy chuckles, and Matthew feels the vibrations rumble through him. ‘See? I told you; he only wants to be your friend. He’s called Kumajirou.’

The name doesn’t quite stick, too long and cumbersome for Matthew’s tentative tongue and he becomes Kuma, instead. It fits.

Matthew is eleven and wishes people could be more like dogs, open and friendly and honest about all that they are. He finds people too quick, children especially: too sly and fast and always with something hidden behind their smile. He’s figured out that he isn’t really a people person, anyway- it’s not that he doesn’t like people, exactly, but he doesn’t really know how to act around them; doesn’t know what to say or how to read them properly and now the whole process of opening his mouth to speak to someone feels daunting, like standing on the roof of his house and forcing himself to step off.

Matthew likes to sit on his thoughts, chew them about in his mouth a bit and be sure of the shape they will form before he lets them go. This means that he takes too long, is silent more often than not because kids his age don’t have the patience to stop and wait for him to get himself ready, lining up his words like soldiers about to march.

He’s known as the silent one at school, blending into the environment like a piece of furniture. Whether it’s in lessons, in sports, in games, or anything in between, his classmate’s eyes glaze past him and he knows that they’ve forgotten he’s there, forgotten that he’s an option to speak to. They’re not mean to him, they just don’t think about him, anymore. Even adults are not immune, more used to handling the demands of the louder kids, dazzled by the brightness of the smarter ones, fond of the affectionate children. Matthew is only half there, he supposes, sitting in the background with a mouthful of words that won’t come out when he wants them to.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s even really there at all, because that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Memories of things and people and places and conversations- moments you share with other people that plant you in time, leaving a mark of your life like a footprint in their existence. He feels like a ghost of a person, a shade of parts that resemble someone else and it leaves him more tongue tied than ever.

But if Kuma is there, wherever he is, it’s instantly better because Matthew can be himself, can feel something loosen inside him and let him act like a person because Kuma loves him no matter what. Dogs act the same to everyone as long as you’re good to them- love them even a little. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew doesn’t want to talk, or doesn’t know how he properly wants to say something. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew struggles to find his words, tripping and stumbling over them as they clog his mind, clumping awkwardly on his tongue.

Kuma will sit there, patient and still, as Matthew whispers his day into his fur, words clear and strong and unsullied by fear in a way they never are with people. He will lick him on the nose and shove his head onto his lap when Matthew has curled himself into a ball in his room, replaying his day over and over so much that his mistakes blur together like paint, colouring everything with a smear of shame.

Matthew is fourteen and he feels as though he finally understands something. It starts as a small something, creeping and pattering through him and leaving tiny tracks in his mind, but now it’s growing larger and stronger, moving within him and sending his thoughts racing.

Kuma died a few months ago. This is what started it, Matthew knows, seeing Kuma slow and slow, more so each year, before, towards the end, it took all he had left to just lift his head. Matthew had felt terrible, of course- at a loss and helpless sitting there with him, stroking Kuma’s head and whispering final goodbyes. His father had joined him on the floor, both of them cocooned by a companionable silence in a way they couldn’t be at any other time, and Matthew felt truly heard, to the bottom of everything he was, in the depths of his grief. This was a moment that needed no words, was a thing that could not be named- only felt and experienced.

His father is a research scientist at some big lab in the heart of the colony and is more used to theory and hypothetical than practical application, but he had found some e-tab journals on dogs, about how their bodies worked and how to fix them, and used his skills to pour over them with Matthew on the floor, studying the miniscule entries as much as he could to provide some help.  Matthew watched, days lit by the flash of the e-tab as story after journal after analysis was checked and rechecked by his father beside him. There was no medicine that could save Kuma, no special cure for age, but there was some information about helping it, easing it- gentling death until it was as soft as sleep and Matthew’s father tried each and every one that he found. Kuma left them with a shift and a sigh and Matthew was surprised at death’s kindness, how easy it could be.

His father, haggard, tired, and sad, had given something of himself for Kuma, and Matthew felt so proud of him, thankful for the benefit it had given his oldest friend. Kuma is gone, but Matthew thinks of that shared peaceful end, of those journals filled with age old accounts from long dead men. He realises that there must be many of these e-tab entries about so many other animals, the few that are left and the thousands that there were before and he flicks onto one, in passing, just to see.

That’s all it takes. One leads to another, which leads to another and another and another and then Matthew can’t stop himself from drinking up as many as he can sync to, allowing himself to be pulled down through trees of evolution, skipping through the classifications of mammals to haunt reptiles and glide past the wingspan of birds. There used to be so many animals, more than he can ever name, more than he can ever conceive being possible- in the seas and the skies and the land and all at once. In, out, around- a planet teeming with things besides humans, living alongside the hulking toxic growth known as mankind and breathing life into the skies.

When earth fell they were lost, all apart from the few that the survivors managed to cling to, stolen away in their bags and clutched under an arm. Small animals and creatures that could be carried and fed easily with scraps that weren’t needed by another fleeing human life, or domesticated food that was herded and pushed, clueless, into a slaughterhouse of spaceships. It is redundant, of course- a pointless skill for him to nurture but Matthew is hungry for all of it; drawn in and hooked to something beyond his control he syncs file after file, strange creatures taking shape in his mind to migrate the past into his waking day.

Matthew’s colony is one of those ones where they like to push people, like to specialise their children early and drive them to great things. They’re good at what they do, structurally organised to churn out success and Matthew see the benefit of this, finally. He hadn’t really taken part before, hadn’t really shown an interest in pushing himself into a single category, but now, all of a sudden, he wants to do what his dad does.

Well, not exactly what his dad does, numbers and figures and study of physics, but the process of it. The breaking down of information, the mythological categorising of data; the calm soothing expectation of silent contemplation. So, he picks to try to become a research scientist too, selects classes that will give him access to greater libraries and archives and locked journals for deeper study, searching for fur and teeth and claws amongst them.

Matthew is eighteen. He managed to find a uni that taught a few classes in veterinary studies, the medical beginnings for those wanting to specialise as a vet. Matthew doesn’t want to do this, exactly -he’s more interested in how animals work and what they’re like, what colours they come in and how big they are- but if he becomes a vet it will allow him to work with animals all day and this, small as it is, could be enough. He isn’t sure, really; doesn’t really know exactly what he wants other than to learn but he hopes that if he takes enough classes, he’ll eventually figure something out.

The bell rings and he stands, gathering his things and heading out of class -anatomy of canines, his favourite- and turns a corner, slinging his bag over a shoulder and aiming for the canteen where he hopes they’re serving pancakes. He keeps missing them, never making the queue in time, but today he’s hoping that maybe he can manage to push his way through. Suddenly, as he turns a corner someone bumps into him, not seeing him at all, it seems, and everything crashes to the floor, e-tab skidding away out of sight.

There’s a mumbled ‘watch it!’ from someone whom Matthew doesn’t see, just a mouthless shout from a sea of strangers, and then he’s left scrabbling on the floor, parting students like a boulder in a river. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glint of metallic grey and a flash of Kuma’s tail across the hallway by a wall. He sighs in relief and scoots his way over, bending to snatch his tab up before it can get trodden on and straightening to come face to face with an e-board, notice shining bright and loud.

Matthew blinks at it, then shakes his head and blinks again when the advert doesn’t change, displaying something he never thought possible. It’s Earth, there and large and green and Matthew can’t read the words properly because, out of nowhere, his eyes are filled with tears and he’s crying- great shuddering breaths that turn heads and rip his voice from out of him.

Earth. Earth, there, open. Looking for people. He’s crying, crying so hard he can’t breathe, just gasp and choke and cry and people stop to stare at him because all of a sudden he’s the centre of attention, the loudest thing there is. He can’t control himself, can’t reign it in because at the top, under a heading for ‘Looking for skills in:’ he sees-

Animal care.

He doesn’t need to think, doesn’t need to read any further, doesn’t even stop to feel shame for his outburst; class forgotten, lunch forgotten, life forgotten he sprints home, avoiding the shuttles and cars he runs as fast as his legs can carry him, pounding on the electric walkways that shoot through town and feeling himself grow lighter and lighter with each step.

His mother and father don’t want him to go, mother clinging to him with arms wrapped tight around his neck. They feel, briefly, like a noose and Matthew chokes to think of listening to them- at the thought of staying here.

He loves them, he loves them- they’re his parents and he loves them so fucking much but this is something he needs to do, has to do and as he pulls away from his mother and meets his father’s eyes he can see that his father knows this too.

‘You may not get to work with animals,’ he says seriously, ‘at least not the ones you want.’ Matthew’s mother steps back to look at his father in horror, betrayal raw on her face as she realises that his father isn’t saying no Matthew can’t go, that he must stay. She reads the acceptance there, understands the truth of it and leaves the room to compose herself, Matthew staring after her sad but determined.

Matthew nods. ‘I know.’

His father steps forwards and puts a large land on his shoulder, rooting him in this moment. ‘If you’re not happy, will you come home?’

Matthew feels his eyes begin to burn, throat tighten, and thinks of the birds he’ll see even if he works in a lab, the insects he will find and small animals he can watch from a window; life spilling over the edges to bleed into buildings. ‘I’ll be happy.’

[michaelevans27]

I've got to leak somewhere at this point regardless of the vulnerability of the dodgy 1 way mirror that can exist. When you're in a position of trust with another person and depth of entanglement and deliberate growth around and with someone and yet consistently have the vines of life leave the sunlight and spread sidewards and pull the sweet fruits/berries into the shade or start to find this vine you are building with help question where you can flourish and blossom it leaves you with so much uncertainty with what you have left when the growth works to pull apart. Sometimes plants have to be seperated for the benefit of their respective health. Sometimes they take too much of each other's sun or they struggle to work synchronously. Sometimes plants will grow and find themselves tangled again. Vines and gardens and plants all beautiful but all unable to know their own needs. It takes a skilled gardener to know what's best and sometimes even then it's not an absolute.

Humans are not plants, we are far more complicated, we are filled with emotion, judgement, issues and conscious thought. Who are we to know what in the fuck we want? How are we supposed to trust in others when we can't even trust our own opinion or struggle to form one? Whether through my own twisted lense of perception, gaslighting or struggles and moments of first experiences and dealings with the many complications to any moment with many people and feelings and topics all that came to my mind was feeling like a robot like maybe my emotions aren't with as much depth or good enough or come out wrong. Yet without the comparison of the past and the need to be clear and therefore properly understood, with the simple and only requirement being to myself... well it doesn't get easier to know your own thoughts but at least it's clearer the depth and strength of feelings one has. The kind of feelings that make you question what feelings are and how you might interpret them.

The ones that are so fiercely strong that you can't tell if you're angry because you're upset or upset because you're angry, whether you're upset because you're thinking about a happiness or upset because you're thinking about the pain, the kind of feelings that tell you you're an idiot for not protecting yourself sooner while also telling you that you ought to not need to protect and all emotions and thoughts between. They say pain makes you stronger but they fail to ever say how it makes you stronger. How one converts or ignites strength from or through the pain, whether pain is to be replaced or forgotten or constant. At what point do you stick true to who you are or maybe were, possibly either foolishly trusting and quick to do so whimsically or refreshing and positively quick in trusting or maybe even both at once since it comes with benefits and goodness but through enough exposure and unfortunate chance you'll be able to have it taken advantage of.

Are there any right answers in the end? Any correct paths to take? In such a perfectionist world high on emotions low in patience and so particular and picky in tastes will there be any humanity able to step back and be hopeful but not condemnful? Any chance of understanding and fair expectations while not sacrificing oneself and not settling for less than ideal but the composure and treatment one would hope in return in this world? I want to be myself, my ideal self in this world, the young man with dreams to do it all and be around for all, to be interactive and caring and trusting with all as I can be, to do as much as I can with my time and to build a pure family with no distances with energy to spread something further with cosiness and trust and openness I was so ready for all of that, I was so ready I took on more than I could, I rushed about the place, I grew tired and pulled in my sphere expanding from a quiet furnishing floater to much more too quickly. I saw my vision in even the worst of times even with each moment of collapse where it would feel like there was a poisonous atmosphere out to get me, with little mind of my mind but there was always enough to keep me going. Didn't matter whether it was external or internal when it mattered most it was internal, when my mind and opinion wavered on whether my feelings were in need internally if needed I'd smooth over and repair as best I could whether I was reckless and blind excusing the damage or smoothing over without the proper external material or against external or internal counterparts is a matter somewhat. What matters to me the most though is having a hold on understanding, ironic how often it can be to feel misunderstood and to not quite understand the new or unknown around you and yet worst of all not have enough perspective and capacity or perhaps too much of the capacity to think so much and not understand yourself.

So much blabber that might not make sense but ultimately it comes to this, I've felt deeply, and strongly regardless of how many times I've felt empty from depression and of the opinions of others. How do I know I've felt that strongly about something? Well for starters I already knew it in each moment where there was effortlessness and yet knowing the moments that had and would take all the effort which meant so little amounting to effortless when achieved. It was clear in the way I'd feel when things would seem to co-incide literally with moments that would match and I'd tell myself that it's a tie at a level deeper with fate, souls, voodoo whatever shit you can think of that becomes your own metaphor keeping minds and states and moments as one or close to one. It's so much more that told me so much about myself and my insides that it'd be a disservice and silly to bother for many reasons to go on.

The biggest thing that told me about the strength of my feelings and opened the Pandora box and decided to make me feel like I finally understood my robot belief and build the knowledge of not knowing what I know or feel or what to trust even within my feelings as to which is central rather than which is in control, the biggest thing that ripped it all open was playing to my biggest weakness, my desire to help anyone that needs it, especially those important to me. My eagerness to drop everything for now and focus on what matters to me most, being there for someone that I trust and I see as positive as a person who simply feeds that fuel of what's good and feeds into a future I know I can keep working for because those people can show me or make me feel there's a positive world and that I am not fighting against an ocean but a stream wide as you want but never endless. I trusted and eagerly took into place the most important and sacred and meaningful things to me in being there and I always will trust in even people that in now way or form have had a chance to earn it, but yet that trust was broken, it isn't often I let my upset take control of me, I keep my emotions in check as much as I can so I'm not hurting others because you can be upset and share upset without doing harm. The most important thing and pure thing I can ever feel like doing, something I struggled to do in moments that I was never prepared for, something I'd do without even noticing in smaller moments, something I do no matter the distance or the positional issues and yet my trust was taken freely advantageously whether maliciously or not, my feelings plain and simply feeling shit on all the while sharing the best of them freely.

Knowing what you truly are feeling and thinking, wanting or needing is hard enough on a basic unaltered state, figuring it out while having no real trust on your own understanding or trust in your ability to trust alongside the deservedness or maybe the potential usage of that trust is an entire different level. People will do all sorts of things in life and may change who they decide they'll be whether it follows their best version of themself, their best vision for themself or just what they feel they ought to be or can only be. There's no way of ever knowing whether someone is reaching out to you and asking how you are to simply do their part in the world, to spy on you and judge or wonder and simply update their info on you, potentially care about you, keep you at arms length as a controlled growth that's simply a body to have contact upon just due to having been part of their life or hell anything under the sun. There's no knowing if it's in your interest to respond and be accomadating to become the next generic and used person in their life that is simply kept up on tabs to know for the sake of knowing or if you'd be accomadating the a simple position where you'd be simply supplying gratification or comparison to their journey, maybe it's in your best interest to share with them regardless since it's progressive in some way? No idea what way or maybe through accomadating the asking of how you are and asking back it would do some good to them and you or even just good for them and it'd be better to do the non-selfish thing and likely what you'd want being good for them by helping them out by doing so but leaving yourself with no betterment from the exchange maybe even worse off. You're supposed to wish people well if you care about them but if you care about them that much don't you also know that it'll hurt ever knowing that would be a case.

Maybe I'm more emotional than I ever realised or maybe people would call me emotionally immature or say that I'm toxic or selfish to not immediately stray towards the most beneficial befitting accomadation of another but last time I did that it made me feel like an object a used object. When it's constantly on loop and stuck on your mind is their a reason? Is there a purpose or direction the universe is pushing you deliberately with all this stuff all these strong deep entrenched thoughts and feelings never giving any long pause of rest? Is it supposed to be a reason to go against in spite of it and trust and respond and engage or is it to follow and close up to, is it stupid to trust someone without constant proof and effort from them showing trust? Is it supposed to stick around and be the way it is for any connections made? Or is it a shitty curse among a strong memory that keeps so much in long term storage that never let's you forget anything. Am I supposed to avoid or forget about or hate or enjoy or be indifferent of little details that I couldn't forget even if I tried, should I be able to forget details. Thinking about it a robot was never a good representation of myself because it focused on a lack of or a disconnection with emotion, feeling miles away from emotion capable and shared by so many more normal people who fit into society or whatever dodgy society may be around, it didn't focus on the confusion of and difficulty with emotion, it didn't focus on the overly believing attitude the childlike expectancy to things working out no matter what and to everything being possible without any sacrifice, the sensitivity to even some violence and small issues among bigger moments thinking everything can be perfect with some ease the rarer of the idealistic over the top optimism moments. At least a robot can know or think and decide in a certain way. It will always make a decision based off of something and wouldn't be unsure of itself. At the end of the day I don't care about it's label because it's the outside world or the stagger into the dark that'll eventually tell me something about my thoughts even if it never comes or my mind is changed more than once. I do really hope it being the first birthday I'll be so seperate from that it'll somehow be as personal and enjoyable as any before, I wish I could somehow have any factor on it but I also wish I'd stop wishing because there's plenty of reason or stories I'm sure to explain that there's nothing good from such stuff being wished since it's at my own detriment maybe. I think that's enough to look back at and know roughly my own thoughts and hopefully give me some peace on it all for a while. Maybe I'll not have to use this ever again.

P.S Michael you might not even understand half the crap you're writing but at least it's been written also there's a wasp and who cares about readability or thinking more about this until it has a reason to be thought about more with a wasp

[petersasteria]

Free - Harry Holland

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Requested? Nah

Harry Holland Masterlist || Ultimate Masterlist

Harry and the reader are both 23 x

* * * *

Seven years. You've been dating Harry for seven years and you were now engaged. When you first started dating when you were sixteen and both of you honestly didn't know that you'd last for so long. Now, here you were seven years later; still together and engaged for six months. You loved Harry so much and you knew that he was the one for you. Everyone said that you were a great pair because both of you loved working behind the camera. He was the director and you were the editor. It was perfect.

All good things eventually come to an end, though.

You didn't know when things started to change and you certainly didn't know that things were changing up until Sam told you that he was starting to notice something different about Harry. Of course, you decided to observe Harry. You thought it was ridiculous, but the more you observed, the more Sam was right.

Harry was shooting his newest short film and you noticed that he was starting to get close with the lead actress. You noticed that his smile was brighter around her. He laughed more, he was relaxed, he was carefree, he looked contented. If you weren't dating Harry, everyone would think that Sarah, the other girl, and Harry were dating.

You noticed that Harry was slowly starting to drift away from you. He talked to you less and less. He comes home late and when he's at home, the whole house was quiet. He wasn't present in wedding planning anymore and eventually, he didn't suggest anything anymore; leaving all the planning to you.

Everything started to feel different now. You began to realize that you and Harry weren't perfect for each other after all. As he started to drift away, you didn't put up a fight anymore. Maybe you should've fought for him, but you knew him. You knew him so well that you knew even if you did fight for him, he'd still choose the other girl. It didn't take long for you to find your own place.

You found a small apartment that was just right for one person and you immediately bought it. Whenever Harry wasn't home, you were packing up some of your things and moving it to your new apartment. You started buying new furniture for your new place and there was one weekend where you slept there. As much as you hated to admit it, you sort of liked it.

On Harry's end, he felt guilty for neglecting you. But, we can't help what we feel. He used to love spending time with you and he used to love the daily routine you two shared. Now, it felt like he was moving around because of muscle memory. Sarah was different. She made him feel things. He wasn't numb unlike whenever he's with you.

Harry didn't go on dates with Sarah. He didn't give her a lift in his car and he certainly never went to her apartment. Despite all the things he never did, he still felt like he was cheating on you whenever he spoke to her about her lines or when he would smile at her as he watched her behind the camera.

Sam frowned whenever he'd see it because he saw Harry decline your phone calls and eventually put his phone on silent. Sam watched as Harry texted you his suggestions for your wedding until he started removing the wedding related tabs on Safari. Sam knew that he had to tell you what was going on because he was starting to see that Sarah felt something for Harry.

One night, everything finally came out. You just got home from your new apartment and Harry was on the phone in the living room. You couldn't take it anymore. Harry couldn't take it anymore too. He was texting Sam about how to tell you that he didn't love you anymore and Sam just said: man up and tell her straight to her face. You owe her that.

You entered the living room and cleared your throat. Harry looked up from his phone and said, "I have something to tell you."

"I have something to tell you too." You said and sat next to him on the couch. You made sure there was distance between the two of you and you didn't know where to begin.

"You go first." You said. Harry nodded. He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands, "I don't love you anymore."

You looked at him and nodded, "Yeah, I figured. Everything hasn't been in place lately and Sam told me that things were starting to be different. He was right. It's Sarah, isn't it?"

"I'm so sorry, Y/N." Harry turned to you and frowned. "I'm really sorry."

"I have so many questions and I have so many things to say and I don't know where to begin. I lay awake in bed every night just thinking, 'how did things go wrong?'. I honestly didn't know we were falling apart until Sam told me." You cried.

"And to think we were going to get married. I imagine our sad marriage and we probably won't have kids because you don't love me enough to make love to me. When did things change, Harry? When did you stop looking at me like I was the only girl in the world? When did you replace me? When did she take over your heart like I used to?"

"I don't know." Harry sighed.

"I used to be more than enough for you and when did you realize that I wasn't enough anymore? Why didn't you tell me immediately so that you'd never come home to a disappointment such as myself?"

"Hey, don't talk like that." Harry shook his head. "You're not a disappointment. You're more than enough. Not loving you doesn't make your worth any less, alright? Y/N, you're such a huge part of my life. You've been in it for years and we've been together since we were sixteen. Y/N, you're a constant in my life that I'm not willing to let go. I care about you and I need you-"

"But you don't love me." You interrupted.

Harry sighed.

"Can you just tell me where I went wrong so that I know? I don't want to make a mistake for the next guy, so just tell me what I can improve on." You said.

"There's nothing to improve because you're amazing. You're an amazing person to be with and any guy would be luck to have you. I'm lucky."

"Was."

"What?"

"We're done now. So, you're supposed to say, 'I was lucky'." You explained.

Harry didn't bother to correct himself. Whether or not you decided to break up, he wanted you in his life. He couldn't imagine living a life without you and he will forever be lucky to have you in his life.

"You did everything to make me happy and I'm forever grateful for that." Harry said sincerely.

"I'm just so mad at myself that I didn't notice it early on. I feel so stupid. But now I know. I know that whenever you're with me, you're yearning for her. Whenever you hug me, you're thinking of her. All of those are painful, but what hurts the most is that you loved me first and you loved her last and you will love her for the rest of your life." You were sobbing which made Harry cry. He hated hurting you, but it was too late now. The damage was done.

"I know how much she makes you happy, so I won't force myself to stay with you thinking that everything will work out in the end. Look at us right now. Nothing worked out. We're damaged. When did you stop telling the truth?"

"What do you mean?"

"When did you stop saying 'I love you' and meaning it?" You sniffed.

"I don't know." Harry was heartbroken that you were feeling so crestfallen.

"Then why didn't you tell me that you loved someone else?"

Harry stayed quiet. He didn't know the answer to that either.

You wiped your tears, "I feel so stupid for thinking that this would never end." You chuckled humorlessly. You got up from the couch, removed your engagement ring and put it on the coffee table.

"I'm leaving." You said and went upstairs to pack the last of your clothes. You went down with two suitcases and went back to Harry who had his head in his hands.

"I wish you all the best, Holland. I really do. I hope she takes care of you and I hope she never makes you cry. I see it in your eyes, y'know? The eyes, they never lie. The look you give her is more than enough for me to stop fighting. I understand and I don't resent you for it. After all, if you're happy with her, why would I force myself to someone who's not meant for me? Fate is hard to fight with and I surrender." You cried once more. Harry couldn't look at you. He was hurt too.

"All I wanted to do was love you and I don't get to do that anymore. That's someone else's job now. Please don't contact me anymore. It hurts to be with you in the same room and speaking to you is like death. Goodbye, Harry. Thank you for the years we spent as friends that started when we were kids and I especially thank you for being my lover for seven years. It was fun while it lasted." You said and walked out of the house that used to be your home.

Harry looked up when he heard the front door closed and he looked out the window to see you drive off. He hated himself.

"I'm sorry it had to end this way." Harry whispered to himself as he watched your car turn to a corner and never see it again.

"Hey, Sam?" You tried not to breakdown as soon as he answered. You were driving to your apartment and you needed someone to vent to.

"What's up, Y/N? How're you and Harry?" Sam asked nicely.

You chuckled pathetically as tears streamed down your face, "There'll be no wedding, Sam. I'm calling it off tomorrow."

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry, Y/N." Sam said sadly. He was really rooting for both of you.

"It's okay. I'll be fine." You sniffed. "Things will be fine."

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑...

Things turned out fine for you. At first, you didn't know how to function anymore. Eventually, you got the hang of it and everyday you wake up filled with hope that you'll one day find a man who'll love you and only you.

You never spoke to Harry and he didn't contact you. But he would ask Sam how you were doing and Sam wouldn't tell him. He'd just change the topic. Harry meant it when he said he won't stop caring about you and not knowing how you were doing sent his mind into a frenzy. You were his friend before dating and he still saw you as a friend.

Harry's short film was a success and your earlier edits were kept in the film. Harry didn't want your involvement in the film to be completely scrapped. It was the only thing he had of yours and he cherished it.

Sam was hurt that you don't talk to him as often as before, but he understood. Talking to Sam hurts you too and Sam didn't want you hurt. But everyday Sam would think of you and he'd pray for your health and safety.

You were walking back to your office when you bumped into someone. You looked at the person and smiled when you realized it was Sam.

"Y/N!"

"Sam!"

Both of you immediately hugged each other tightly for about a minute before pulling away. He looked at you and smiled when he realized you were okay.

"I'm so happy to see you! You have no idea. I haven't seen you since-"

"Three years ago." You continued and smiled. "We should catch up, but I have to get back to work. My lunch break just ended."

"Of course! Same number, yeah?"

"Yeah." You grinned and kissed his cheek.

"Sam, we need to- Y/N? Is that you?"

You turned and saw Tom. You chuckled and nodded, "I'd be concerned if I'm not Y/N."

"Oh my god, it is you!" Tom grinned and hugged you tightly. "I missed you!"

He pulled away and spun you around to look at you from head to toe. "Wow, you look good! New haircut, new hair color, new clothes-"

"New style." A voice said. It was Harry. All three of you stared at him but he was only looking at you. "I like it. You're constantly changing your style, but this one's my favorite. It suits you and it has 'you' written all over it."

"Thank you." You gave him a small smile. "I'm glad I found the right style for me."

"I'm glad that you're glad. How are you?" Harry asked.

"I'm good, actually. I recently got a promotion, but I don't know if I'll take it."

"What? Why? Tom asked.

"They're asking me to move to L.A." You said shortly. "I can't stand the thought of staying away from home."

"Oh." Was all Tom said.

"Anyway, how are you?" You asked in general, but only Harry answered.

"I'm engaged. Wedding's next month." Harry said. Sam wanted to hit Harry because it sounded so insensitive.

"Congratulations." You smiled genuinely. "Tell her I said, 'hi'."

"What about you, Y/N? Any special someone?" Sam asked.

"Yes, actually. I'll show you a picture." You smiled and opened your phone to show them a picture of you and your one year old son. "This is my son, Harvey. He's my whole world."

"Who's the father?" Tom asked.

"Not present and he won't ever be present. I was drunk one night and one thing led to another. Harvey's a blessing because just when I thought that I have no hope of finding love, he came along. I love him so much." You gushed and smiled at your phone before putting it in your bag.

"I have to get back to work now, alright? Sam, I'll be waiting for your call. It was nice seeing you all again. Bye!" You walked inside the building of the magazine company you work for and the three men continued on with their day.

"Motherhood suits her." Tom said. "Plus, the little guy is so cute!"

"I agree." Sam nodded. "What do you think, Harry?"

Harry smiled and said, "I'm just glad she's alright and happy. That's enough closure for me."

* * * *

I have an alternate ending for this one lmao

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @sufwubi @abrielleholland @osterfieldnholland @purplepizza-summerrain @euphorichxlland @marshxx @lizzyosterfield @itstaskeen @ilarbu @justanamesstuff @dudethisvoid

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @petersholland @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @perspectiveparker @parker-potters @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @chloecreatesfictions @holland-styles @halfblood-princess-505​ @spidey-reids-2003​ @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff