#but everything you see here will be available | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drownedthemall · 2 days ago

Text

sweetness of her laugher

part 4 - fate

caracalla x noble!reader x geta

a/n - sorry for taking so long, hopefully, you enjoy this chapter <3

4k words

summary - the gladiator games have begun and the emperors are eager for you to indulge in the cruelty

also, general acacius has plans for you...

You tried to sleep off the things that you had witnessed today. But to no avail, slumber does not visit you. You hope to attempt to remedy this by revisiting the gardens. You rise from your bed, tiptoeing to the door of your room. You peer outside. The guard subtly turns his head towards you. You request, "I'd like to go to the gardens.", you whisper softly.

He shakes his head, "Princess, It is not recommended for anyone to be out at this time, I cannot let you.", he denies your request with haste.

"Please, sir", you jokingly pout, attempting to convince him. "You can watch over me if you're that worried," you argue with the visibly annoyed guard.

He sighs defeated, "Fine, my lady..", he shakes his head in disapproval. You lightly smile at how easily he gave up. He leads you to the gardens, standing guard by one of the columns as he watches over you. You peer over your shoulder to see if he's following you. He is not.

You head over towards the fishpond that is surrounded by an abundant amount of rose bushes. You do this as you ponder the route you want to take this night. You stand over the pond, trying to make out any of the fish that could be in the body of water. Which proved difficult when only the moonlight was illuminating the pond. You then see a shadow from up above move quickly. "An owl?", you try to rationalise to yourself.

Suddenly everything was really quiet. Maybe it only seems that way. Nevertheless, you check for where the praetorian was stood at. Your heart stops as you notice that he's gone. This leaves you frantically looking over any column you could see from where you're stood at, thinking that maybe you've just misremembered. But no, he's gone. That's when you immediately come to terms with that you should probably head back to your chambers.

There was a reason for the guard discouraging you from coming here. It's not a secret that a large population of Romans are not pleased with the Emperors. It's only a matter of time before people gather and revolt. Likely, someone from the inside may even plan an uprising of some sort. It's not like it's unheard of. You however do not want to be caught amid something like that. Yes, you may have grown to like the two but the fact they hold the titles of Emperors can intrigue any woman, right? The fact you've been around them puts you in danger, despite how much you'd like to not think about that. However, the truth prevails. You shouldn't have come here. Not just the gardens, but Rome itself.

As you turn round you're greeted by a tall figure. You feel as though your soul has transcended through five different lifetimes. You gasp and take a few steps back. The calves of your legs hit the cold stone edge of the pond, making you off-balanced. A pair of hands come to your rescue. They grasp your forearms, stopping you from making a bigger fool of yourself. You are about to fight back but you notice the familiar robes of the man before you. This seems to reunite you and your soul as you come to realise it was Geta. He pulls you into his chest. He holds you tight as if the water is about to steal what is rightfully his.

You sigh relieved, "Emperor..", you lean your head against his chest. His face entangles into your hair, "I didn't mean to scare you.." he mutters softly. You can feel how the warmth of his breath nestles into your bed of hair. As you calm, the embarrassment sets in and so does the realisation of the position you're in.

Eventually, you build up the courage to push yourself away from his hold. You could instantly imagine the scowl that painted his face. He moves his hands to your waist, still keeping you secure in place. He breaks the silence, "Why are you out this late", his tone was oddly accusatory as if he had just foiled some kind of treacherous plan of yours.

You try your damn hardest to avoid his accusing glare, already having to endure the effects of his touch and the closeness between the two of you. "I couldn't sleep, Emperor, I was just seeking some fresh air..", you try explaining yourself.

"Does your balcony not provide you with that?" he continues with his rather harsh tone.

"I..", you begin, "I'm sorry, Emperor", you apologise defeated. You knew it was a bad idea to argue with him. Aware that one misstep could very well acquaint you with the scythe.

Your tone of voice seemed to have soothed him, but you could still sense his distrust. He brings up one of his hands from your waist to your face. He cups the side of your cheek. Alluding that he wants you to look at him. So you do. He caresses your cheek, he likes the fact that you are weary of him. That you were unsure of his intentions, he revelled in that. However, now, he wanted you to wholeheartedly give yourself to him. He didn't want you to fear him while in such an intimate moment. His hand travels down to your bare neck, which wasn't adorned by any necklaces. This brings your attention to the fact that he is not accessorised either. Though he is still in his formal robes from earlier today, he must've been in the process of going to bed. He was the owl in question.

His knuckles brush up and down your neck. "..Don't be afraid", he softly begins, "I won't hurt you.", he attempts to reassure you. Whether his words are truthful or not, they work. His other hand comes up to tuck a loose strand of hair away from your face. You see the way he's concentrated on every subtle movement your face makes. You didn't realise you were holding your breath. You breathe out, "Would you like to join me in my stroll?", you ask, knowing this is the only way you could accomplish what you had set out for yourself earlier.

He stops all of his caresses and thinks about what you suggested. After what feels like an eternity he nods in agreement. He takes hold of your hand and beckons you to follow him. He has already decided the route for you two to take.

You two walk along the gravelled pathway, with distantly placed oil lamps emitting the way. The pace of you two is leisurely, which would be perfect for admiring the greenery surrounding you both. However, the drowning darkness of the night only points your attention to the man who is holding your hand. How his toga has left his shoulder bare and exposed for the sight of only you and the Gods to see. How he keeps glancing back at you as if you're going to disappear if he takes his eyes off of you.

You pull away the blanket of silence that has draped over the both of you, "Why was I even invited for this whole...", you flail your free hand, not knowing how to describe this whole arrangement.

Geta just stares at you for a moment before answering, "Caracalla likes you, that's why.", he states almost dismissively.

This frustrates you further, "But how does he know of me?", you huff, seeming to have now found the courage to voice your mind.

He just shrugs his shoulders. "I had not known of you previously... He was just very adamant on it being you", he explains in his bored, unamused tone.

You were expecting to get some proper answers out of him. You deserve to know why after being dragged all the way out here. Where you know not a single soul that resides in Rome. How even when you try to find a moment of peace it only gets ripped away from you, as if you don't deserve it. Your spiralling thoughts end with, "Now, can we not mention his name?", he looks you in the eyes as you two near the pond again. You just hum in response, even though he was the one to bring him up in the first place.

---

This morning you're awoken by the sun's rays. They cast a warm glow over your face. Which is a nice change compared to how you were awoken the night before. As your mind leaves the ever-so-comforting dreamscape, you're reminded of the games happening today. This only brings forth dread to your shortly lived sweet morning. At least you'll see Acacius...

You reluctantly peel away the warm covers, immediately longing to just curl back into them. Bam. You jump at the noise. Why can't you ever find peace? You turn your attention to the location of the noise, only to be met with an unexpected embrace. Your door had been barged open by none other than Caracalla. Your head once again meets the feathered silk pillows. His legs straddle the sides of your body as his face is mere inches from yours. He drinks up your worried expression and admires every freckle and blemish that lies upon your skin. "You're already awake", he says in a hushed voice.

"Yes... I am", you whisper as you try to wrangle yourself from him. He only giggles at the attempt, grabbing a hold of both your wrists.

He leans in to whisper in your ear, "Are you excited?", his earring settles on your lips. You feel your insides twist at the implication.

"For the gladiator games?", you hoarsely ask, your voice not yet prepared for the day.

He slightly moves back, bringing your hands closer, manipulating them to cup his face. "Yes, for the games," he answers as he leans into your touch. You decide to answer honestly, shaking your head in response. You felt that you could be more truthful with Caracalla. Even if you disagreed or didn't fully align on things, you sense that he would still cling to you. You didn't share the same sentiment with his brother, however.

He furrows his brows, "Hm? Why not..?", he asks queried, almost offended.

"I don't know how to feel about the violence", you answer, shying away from his burning stare.

He chuckles, "Well, I suggest you feel excited, invigorated..." he begins, "..and aroused", he ends the sentence in a breathy tone.

You can't help but look displeased at his words, you knew the Emperors were sadistic. But you can't even pretend to not be phased by his gross verbiage about people dying for entertainment. However, Caracalla misreads your expression. He turns his head, his lips making contact with your palms. He kisses them. "Don't worry," he comforts. He leaves another kiss. "It'll be fun, I promise", he mumbles against the palm of your hand. You notice the way his breath left your palms wet, his kisses only doing the same.

"I shouldn't be here", he admits quietly. He continues, "Geta would not be pleased", he giggles like a misbehaving child, putting emphasis and pause on the word 'not'.

"He would not?", you ask rather worriedly, afraid that if Geta were to find out he'd somehow put all the blame on you.

He smiles amused as if reading your mind "Only at me, don't worry", he kisses your bare inner wrist, "I won't let anyone hurt you", he says in an unusually lucid tone.

You hate to admit but your heart is quite literally doing cartwheels. These two must be affecting your mind somehow because all of a sudden you're feeling beyond impulsive. You take advantage of the fact that his head is in your hands and you pull him towards you. His mouth is subtly open and his eyes are glazed over in desire. His lucidity disappeared in mere seconds. He stabilises himself by pressing his hands into the bedding. Your lips meet his, and your attempt at keeping this short and sweet changes as he deepens the kiss. He nips at your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to dance along with yours. Your hand find itself in his hair, and you tug and pull on his red locks as the two of you 'fight'. He pulls away to catch his breath, saliva coating both of yours and his lips. He admires you in a daze, bringing one of his hands to caress your lips. Sliding his thumb over your bottom lip. A boundary has now fallen and the pit in your stomach tells you that you will come to regret it

Thud. Caracalla doesn't even bother to look over at who has entered the room, only devoting his attention to you. You, however, do and see a familiar redhead. You want to crawl into a ditch and die. The Emperor above you seems to feel zero shame, this mustn't be a very rare predicament for him to be in. You wonder how often he's been caught in the act.

"Brother," Geta states sternly, looking over the two of you as if he's a bull that's seen red.

The older redhead only continues absentmindedly playing with your hair, disregarding his brother's presence, "What do you want.", he says boredly.

"What did I tell you about doing this?", he sighs frustrated at his older brother's actions as if this has been discussed extensively without your knowledge.

He rolls his eyes, "Oh, please, it's not like she's complaining," he finally looks at his brother and then immediately returns to you, "You like this, right?", pressuring you to answer.

You feel humiliated. Your already flushed pink face only turns into a more noticeable shade. You open your mouth to answer but Geta interrupts, "Don't play into his stupid games," he dictates.

Now this ticks him off, "Hah, fuck off," he throws a murderous look towards Geta, "You always ruin everything." He roughly kisses you one last time before leaving you to process everything.

The way they treat you makes you wish you could peel your own skin off. The way they play with you like you were some kind of doll. Sure, you are growing to like them... but is that due to your isolation and inability to compare actual normal interactions to theirs? Or are you truly becoming just as sick as them? Infested with the disease that undoubtedly plagues both of their minds. These are the thoughts that keep nagging you throughout your stay here.

---

You feel how the ground you stand on is vibrating from the amount of people gathered in the arena. The never-ending buzz of people talking and shouting over each other. The concoction of smells enveloping your nose, from the smell of iron and faeces to the smell of the Emperor's perfumes and oils. The unbearable heat only made the stench much more potent. All of this enthrals you with a painful headache. The heavy jewellery you wore that the Emperors themselves insisted on you to wear did not help either.

The three of you are the first to enter the viewing booth. It consists of three gold-inscribed stone thrones positioned right at the front, and the rest of the seats are placed further back for the other noble guests. The Emperors seemed to have lost their more put-together composure that you have grown to like. They were now buzzing with excitement, absolutely restless. Pacing from one side of the viewing box to the next, wanting for the other guests to arrive as soon as possible. In the meantime, you attempted to not think of what was about to happen, which only did the opposite. You were just as restless as them but for a completely different reason. You wanted to get the hell out of here. Feeling like a bird in a cage at this very moment.

Caracalla is sitting on his seat, he looks over the arena, occasionally sending a look your way. The first person to arrive is the man with the winning gladiator, Macrinus. He steps foot into the booth, greeting the caesars instantly. "My pleasure to be here Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla." He says this as he takes Geta's hand. The younger brothers' excitement is palpable, "I'm interested in seeing your poet, Macrinus," Geta humours.

"Haha, yes, so am I," he laughs alongside him. He then looks over to you and takes hold of your hand as well, giving it a soft peck, "It's wonderful seeing you here, Princess", he greets. Geta leaves the two of you, however he still listens in from the sidelines.

You smile politely, "I wish strength to your fighter", you say as you pull your hand back to your side. Fidgeting with the rings that do not belong to you.

"Thank you, my lady, hopefully, the Gods pay mind to your wish", he chuckles, glancing up at the 'preoccupied' Emperors as they watch the interaction.

Acacius and Lucilla then enter the booth. Caracalla remains in his chair, while Geta heads over to meet the two. You perk up at the sight of the General, relieved to see a familiar face. "Emperor Geta," he lightly smiles at the caesar.

"General Acacius, hope you spent your free time well", he laughs, looking over at Lucilla. She held a small piece of lavender to her face, presumably to calm herself and to reduce the smells of the arena.

"Thank you, Emperor, we did," she responds disingenuously. He hums, moving his attention fully to Lucilla herself. This leaves an opening for you to converse with the broad-shouldered man.

"Princess," he declares as he gives you a subtle grin. "Hope you're enjoying your time in Rome," he starts.

"General," you nod. "Yes I am, thank you," you chuckle, for once happy to talk to a sane person.

"Are you excited?", you ask, wanting to gauge his opinion of the games about to take place. This question seems to pique the interest of the Emperor sitting. He was already listening in on both the conversations but he was now only focused on yours. He peers over the seat, leaning on the armrest. This is only noticed by the General.

"Ah, who wouldn't be?", he answers, with his arms locked behind him. This frustrates you, he was no longer being candid with you the way he was in your travels. Understandable in the presence of the caesars but nevertheless annoying.

"He's right," Caracalla states, causing you to look at where he's sat. By this point, your Caesar and Lucilla are done talking. He comes up behind you, hand on your waist, mouth to your ear. "It's time," he hushly says. You subtly gasp at the unexpected contact. He smirks, while the other brother just giggles at the sight. He leads you to your seat, you look over your shoulder at the three, disappointed that you couldn't talk with Lucilla. The only woman here other than you.

As you sit down, Emperor Geta announces the games that are about to take place. He beckons the General to come up and speak of his victory in Numidia since the games are in celebration of it all. He reluctantly moves to the front of the viewing booth, to be seen by those in the colosseum. The brothers snicker, knowing full well that the General had not prepared something beforehand.

You fiddle with the gold cuffs your wrists are decorated with, feeling that they're too tightly clamped. You turn your view to Caracalla, and you see that he already has his eyes on you. Yours slightly widen as this catches you off guard. This amuses him and he grins, his gold tooth visible in his smile. He leans to you and grabs a hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "You're so antsy, relax already," he teases. You sigh softly, trying to calm yourself. He moves back in his chair, satisfied with the touch of your hand.

As the General moves to sit by his wife, Lucilla, he gives her a curious look. He seems to have taken notice of how the caesars act around you. It's been a short amount of time since you've arrived but the way the Emperors treat you has already been noticed by many. Acacius and Lucilla would like to take advantage of this.

It all begins with the armoured rhino leaving the caged layer of the colosseum with a champion gladiator standing upon it. As every new thing develops in the arena you feel the way his hand squeezes yours, his excitement uncontainable. While you just try to shield the view with your other hand, nausea creeps its way up as more and more blood can be seen on the arena walls and ground. A fighter gets impaled by the ravenous beast, and this leaves the caesars glancing back at each other, laughing at the sight. Geta sees you grimacing and ignoring the display of gore.

"Watch!" he encourages in a commanding tone, wanting you to also take pleasure in the cruelty. You force yourself to pay attention to what's happening before you. Well, you try but you feel as though your mind is drifting off elsewhere. Anywhere but here. However, you do when you notice the familiar gladiator from the day before. He was all sweaty, dirty and bloodied. He seems to have taken on the leadership role of the group. This role doesn't last long as soon enough it's only him and the champion. He grabs a handful of the sand and strategically throws it, right as the rhino charges forward. Now, ashamedly you were entertained. Especially now that it was leaning in his favour. The beast bashes full force into the wall of the Colosseum. With the impact vibrating all the way to where you're sat. This causes the caesars to leap to the edge of the booth, and you follow suit as the clingy Emperor drags you along. You and the two were enthralled at the way this was playing out. Caracalla lets go of your hand and instead pulls you in by the waist.

"It's that poet, is it not?" Geta shouts over the roaring crowd to his brother.

Caracalla narrows his eyes, trying to piece the man's face to any that he might've seen before. "I can't remember," he admits, shouting back in response.

"It is," you add to the discussion. Caracalla angles his face inches from yours, "How come you know?", he interrogates. "You like him?", he jabs without missing a beat from his previous question.

"What?", you reply genuinely confused at the random spiel of questions.

"Look, look!" Geta cuts the tense moment short by pointing to the gladiator bringing a finality to the fight. He stabs the champion through his chest. Geta dramatically raises his arm in the air, deciding the fate of the man who is on his knees. This was another nauseating sight, that they were the ones to deem the fate and worth of the lives they were playing with. With their existence, you lose faith in the God's. They are the epitome of chaos, mortals that have been fed lies to shape them into something they are not.

Geta symbolises the demise of the once-known champion, pointing his thumb down, the Gods have decided. People cheer at the decision, jumping from their seats to see the final act at play. The gladiator decapitates the man, his body slumping to the ground even further. You don't even have the energy to shield your eyes. You realise that you have no real control over your fate as long as you're in the hands of the Emperors.

taglist - @duckyhowls @himiko @lover-rep-fanfic @t6gse370 @syraxnyra <3

#caracalla #gladiator 2 #caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #fem reader #female reader #general acacius #geta #emperor geta #x reader #gladiator ii

125 notes · View notes

muqingslover · 1 day ago

Text

[ It's come to my attention that MC and Caleb fool around with strawberries somewhere in-game and I'd like to give my take on that ]

Caleb has a long history of being rather...sneaky when it comes to stashing food. Specifically, he always has some sort of snack on him for when you feel peckish, no matter the situation— Long study sessions? Have a chocolate. Late for work? Here's an apple before you leave mans just pulling stuff out of his inventory. However, as sweet as that is, he is just as sneaky when it comes to stealing food from you because 'yours tastes better' even though you two are having the exact same thing.

In which brings us all to now, where here he was again trying to steal a strawberry from the bowl you had been snacking from. This time however, you were quicker to snatch it away from his sticky hands before he could and told him he couldn't have any, earning an amused chuckle from him.

"Stingy much?" He mused, tilting his head to the side with a playful glint in his purple eyes. "What's the harm in letting me have one?" And that's when the idea sparked in your brain. It all started as a silly tease, payback for all his crimes of theft if you will.

"Fine. Here," You agreed a bit too easily for his liking, and he immediately knew you were up to something when you brought the fruit to his lips with a mischievous expression he's far too familiar with. "but you can't touch it. Who knows how many you'll steal with those sticky hands of yours."

He raises an eyebrow at your words, but before he can argue with some clever retort you press the strawberry against his lips to shush him, the red juice oozing out as you hurried him to eat it. Caleb however is not one to let you have the "last word" and he will get back at you, one way or another, and this time he does it by tilting his head down to take a bite without resistance.

"It's sweet" He says without breaking eye contact with you as he continued to eat the fruit until his lips touched your fingertips and he nibbled lightly on it. One of his hands would grasp your wrist to hold you in place to keep you from pulling away when he pushes his warm tongue out to lick along your skin where the sweet juice of the strawberry had trickled down. He follows the red streak slowly, cleaning up the mess and enjoying the feeling of you on his mouth, which he can't help but let his mind wonder about just how good you'd taste if he had his mouth somewhere else instead— That thought makes his hand clench hard next to his side and is enough to make him realize he's pushing his own luck by thinking he could tease you without dragging himself down a rabbit hole.

"But everything always taste better when it comes from you." He smiles charmingly, ruffling your hair so you couldn't see his face as he stood up and excused himself as quickly as he had appeared. From that day onwards, Caleb didn't try to steal food as often anymore unless you two were somewhere with a bathroom close by, preferably with a cold shower available.

#i still dont know how to tag #love and deepspace x reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads

102 notes · View notes

queerdeans · 3 days ago

Text

Five Acres on an Unnamed Road

Summary:

Cas buys a five-acre lot on the outskirts of Lebanon. Dean builds a house. For @destielvalentineszine2025 organized by the lovely @disabled-dean and @butch--dean — there are still three days to submit your work for the zine! 💚💙

The bunker walls are too close and its darkness too absolute for Castiel to live there comfortably anymore. Everything reminds him of the Empty, though it’s been five months since Jack pulled him out. It’d only taken Jack a few days to decide he didn’t want to play the role of Absent God from some miserable corner of the universe, but instead, he wanted to let the universe keep trucking while he lived as normal a life as possible in Lebanon, Kansas, where his family was.

Five months since Dean had opened the bunker door to see Cas standing there. Five months since the bone-crushing hug that had threatened to break Cas’s body, newly sewn back together.

Four months and twenty-nine days since the first tentative, uncertain kiss.

But who needs to count when you have a lifetime at your fingertips?

Cas insists on driving to the store one bright and bitter-cold day, and Dean lets him take the wheel, which is one of the many ways Cas has learned that Dean Winchester says I love you. When Cas diverts from their well-trod route into town, Dean’s quiet; he likes when they do new things, even if it’s just driving on a road they haven’t been down before. He loves to stretch into their newfound free will, to explore the infinite paths forward that they have available to them now. But when Cas slows down next to a wooden sign, whose careful FOR SALE lettering has been plastered over with a SOLD sticker, Dean frowns.

The land is blanketed with heavy snow and is mostly flat. There’s a half-hearted, drooping wooden fence that travels the full perimeter of the five acre lot. Cas knows this because he’d walked the entire thing the week before, the snow soaking through his shoes, the cold whipping at his face. But he hadn’t needed to; he’d known from the second he saw the for sale sign that he would buy it.

Dean’s been pretty set on living an honest life lately, so Cas forewent asking Jack to work a small-scale miracle or getting Charlie, whose Apocalypse World counterpart is every bit as savvy as the Charlie Dean and Sam had met a decade earlier, to forge some loan documents. Instead, he made a few calls, spread the word about what he wanted to do, and the money came pouring into his newly-created checking account at the Kansas Federal Credit Union, courtesy of their network of friends both near and far.

Now, as Dean hesitantly gets out of the car, Cas pulls the title from the glove compartment. He rounds the Impala and hands it to him wordlessly. Dean peers at the paper and then up at the land in front of him, and slowly, a smile spreads on his face.

“Who’d you have to bribe?” he asks.

Cas shrugs. “A lot of people love you, Dean, and were happy to pitch in. All they ask is that we host a housewarming party.”

Dean laughs in half-shock. “A housewarming party? There’s no house here.”

“Not yet.”

The land stretches out in front of them, curving away with the horizon. The lot is quiet, settled beneath the wide prairie sky, and is nestled in between two family farms. The earth is fertile and ready for planting deep roots, ones that might stay awhile.

It takes a year for there to be a house. The earth is still mostly frozen when they break ground. Dean’s wearing a hard hat and grinning ear to ear, and when he digs the shovel into the dirt, he lets out a loud whoop of joy. Jack takes a picture and Sam shakes his head and Eileen consults yet again Dean’s questionably-sound building plans. Cas just watches Dean, hands shoved in the pockets of his winter coat, amazed to be alive, to be standing here, to be with his family on a cold day.

Used to be, the entire world was his to watch over, and he’d grown bored with the millennia. Now, entire centuries worth of joy pass between his eyes and Dean’s as they stand on the little patch of dirt that they call their own.

Over the next year, Dean insists that his brief experience working construction while living with Lisa is sufficient. And in the end, it proves to be, though the construction is not without significant hiccups. Dean nearly dies several times of perfectly normal, stupid, and preventable causes, which, after the danger has passed, seems to somewhat delight him. He falls from a ladder but only breaks his tibia; he nearly shoots himself in the head with a nail gun, but doesn’t; and there’s an incident involving a territorial opossum that he refuses to speak about.

Cas has never seen him so happy.

Dean won’t let Jack or Cas use any of their God-or-angel mojo on the house, and for awhile he doesn’t even want Sam helping out. But as summer begins to stretch itself out and Cas’s anxiety to get out of the bunker increases, Dean capitulates and lets Sam, Jack, Eileen, and Cas help out more frequently. Jack turns out to be a natural with power tools, though Cas catches him cheating with his God-powers every now and then when he thinks no one is looking. Eileen reveals herself to have roofing experience (“What? Can’t a woman have a life?”) which comes in handy. Sam and Dean bicker about stupid things that have nothing to do with Lucifer, Michael, Hell, or the world ending, but rather building codes, railing lengths, and types of wood — and they both enjoy it immensely.

When the year mark on the project approaches and the house is nearly ready, Dean starts to be secretive, telling Cas not to come over, that he wants to keep a few things a surprise. Cas takes to spending more time at the local farmer’s co-op, where he’s been picking up a few regular hours of work each week, learning everything there is to know about simple and beautiful things like fertilizer and chicken care and seeds. Everyone seems to like him, and though Dean’s nervous the first few times he drops by during one of Cas’s shifts, his new coworkers welcome him as Cas’s partner with open arms.

Finally, the place is ready, according to Dean, and he and Cas pack up the last of their belongings and load them into the back of Cas’s truck. Sam and Eileen have found a place in Topeka and will be moving there in a few weeks, though Sam’s still planning on coming back to the bunker regularly to check in on the hunters who will be moving in to take over the bunker’s care; Jack’s got some grand plans to backpack the world for a couple of months, after which who knows what he’ll do?

It feels more like a beginning than an end as Cas drives the loaded-up pickup down the unnamed dirt road that leads to their new house. When he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, Dean peers at him sideways, nervous, and Cas squeezes his hand.

“As long as you didn’t paint a mural of Steven Tyler on our bedroom ceiling, I’ll love it,” he promises Dean before they get out of the car and approach the house.

It’s a craftsman with a wide front porch and is painted a soft yellow. There are two rocking chairs on the porch which they’d found at a flea market in Kansas City. Dean’s painted them up and applied some wood glue in key places to make them sturdier, and he made a little table to go between them, which he says is key — it’s where they’ll put their beer when they sit out here at night.

Inside, it’s warm, as Dean came by earlier that morning to load up the wood-burning furnace in the living room. The downstairs is made up of three large rooms: a living room with a worn, comfortable couch, a big mounted TV, and the two plaid armchairs from the ‘Dean Cave’; a dining room with a long wooden table and plenty of chairs; and a kitchen filled with natural light and a solid butcher’s block counter. Most of the elements that furnish the home were found at flea markets or thrift stores, all of them used and coming with a story, such as the couch, which had been loaded very precariously into Cas’s truck bed and most certainly would not have actually fit and remained steady for the long drive back to Lebanon without some divine intervention from Jack, who had denied his involvement.

Upstairs there are two rooms. First is the main bedroom with a walk-in closet and a large bathroom, complete with a detached tub big enough for both of them. The picture window behind their bed faces out onto the backyard and lets in plenty of natural light. Next to their room is what is technically the guest room, but is really Jack’s, for whenever he wishes to stay. Next to the bed is the IKEA bookshelf that Cas and Kelly had built in the days prior to Jack’s birth; it had been intended to hold baby books and stuffed animals, though now Jack has filled it with figurines of some of his favorite movie characters, along with books about dragons and sprawling histories of ancient civilizations.

Because Dean’s a hunter, and because they’ve lived the lives they’ve lived, the house has a few special qualities. First, there’s warding throughout the foundation and beneath the paint jobs in each room, done by Cas, checked by Sam, checked again by Eileen, and so on. There’s warding on the fence posts that ring the property, as well, newly built and sturdy. In the bedroom closet is a false door hiding the gun safe, though it holds far more weapons than just guns. Though both Dean and Cas have mostly retired from hunting since saving the world this last time, neither is naive enough to think that there may not be a time they’ll want to follow up on a strange newspaper headline or help out some fresh hunters with a difficult case. And Cas isn’t sure Dean would sleep as well without knowing the weapons are there, anyway.

Dean takes Cas’s hand now pulls him through the first level to the back door. “Don’t expect too much,” he says, and Cas wants to tell him that everything about this place already surpasses his wildest expectations, the most outlandish dreams he could have ever had.

When Dean opens the door, Cas sees that the backyard has been transformed. They had spoken briefly about putting a patio and a grill back here, but really, Dean has done far more than that. There is indeed a patio and grill, with string lights draped between poles all around it, making it perfect for entertaining whenever folks come through town and stay awhile. But beyond that, Dean’s built several long garden beds, next to which is a newly constructed chicken coop. There’s a freshly-painted shed, a wooden beehive box, and a fenced-in area with a small barn. Cas gapes at all of this, unsure what to say.

“Thought we might raise some chickens, bees, maybe some goats,” Dean says, his hands shoved into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels nervously.

This time, it’s Cas’s turn to smile, just as Dean had done when Cas gave him the land deed. “It’s perfect,” he says, taking Dean in his arms and kissing him. “Just perfect."

The guests arrive sporadically throughout the day, depending on their distance and how much they want to help Dean and Cas prepare for the party. Jody and Donna, for instance, arrive three hours before the start time, with Claire, Kaia, Patience, and Alex in tow. Dean makes fun of the minivan they all arrive in for a solid fifteen minutes. Charlie arrives an hour after that with Stevie, and Bobby and Rowena surprise each other by showing up at the same time, the former from where he’s been carving out a life in South Dakota and the latter from her throne in Hell. Garth arrives closer to on time with Bess, Gertie, Sam, and Castiel, which gives Dean something to grumble about for the twentieth time (“why wouldn’t he name him after me?”). A few other hunters join the mix, and when Cas gets a text from his new friends from the co-op that they’re on the way, he has to make an announcement to everyone to “act normal” and if they have to talk about monsters, to do it quietly.

In the entryway of the house, they’ve hung up a big poster board with progress photos tacked onto it, starting with the empty lot. 5 acres of nothing; trees dotted here and there and a little stream that ran through the northwest corner, wild grass growing untamed, the family of opossums which Dean conceded a half an acre to. There are progress photos, including one of Dean at the urgent care, grinning ear-to-ear, high on painkillers, arm in a splint after his fall from the ladder. The photo of Eileen leaning over the edge of the roof while Sam panics below gets a laugh from everyone, though Sam is less-than-amused by it.

The party is in full swing with Dean’s carefully-curated playlist cranking out through the speakers in the living room and the food dishes spread out on the table. Cas comes and finds Dean in the midst of an argument with Charlie over a video game character. He taps him on the shoulder and beckons with his finger; Dean, whipped until the very end, follows Cas upstairs obediently.

When they get to the bedroom, Cas closes the door and orders Dean to sit on the bed. Dean does so with a smirk and a “With all the guests around, you kinky bastard?”

But Cas doesn’t say anything, just lowers himself onto one knee and produces a small box from his pocket.

Dean’s struck dumb, staring at him with his mouth slightly open. “Are you…” he starts.

“Yes,” Cas says, opening the box and holding it out. The ring is silver, a thick band similar to the ring that Dean used to wear. “I think I’ve made enough… speeches for a lifetime,” he says, never eager to remember that moment of happiness he’d allowed himself before the Empty had swallowed him up. He’d assumed it was his last — and he’s been counting every happy moment since as a blessing.

“You know how I feel about you, Dean. About our life. It’s… it’s in everything around us.” He casts a glance about the room. One of his sweaters is tossed over a chair, a flannel shirt of Dean’s haphazardly laying on top of it. A book lies open on his pillow while Dean’s reading glasses — the ones he makes Cas swear to never tell anyone about — rest on the bedside table. It’s a life. A real life, a good one. Simple in all the ways they’d never thought they could have.

“I didn’t want to do this publicly,” Cas says, “but I want to use this moment, with everyone around us… all of the people we love… they’re all here, we’re here, because of you, Dean. And I’d be honored if you’d—”

Dean can’t wait anymore, and he’s on his knees too, pulling Cas in by the shoulders for a kiss. His hand tangles in Cas’s hair and he breathes into Cas’s mouth. “Yes. Fuck yes, I’ll marry you, Cas. Of course.”

“Do you think this is what your father would have pictured for you?” Cas asks that night as they sit on the porch. The party has wound down but many of the guests remain, lingering in the house or the yard. The crickets are loud tonight, scoring the evening. The living room’s warm glow is cast onto the porch, over the two of them, but the surroundings are still dark enough that the sky’s bounty is easily visible. Dean had gotten Cas a telescope for Christmas so that he could see all the cosmos, the infinite worlds that still existed, framing this one world, theirs. Cas can name most of what he sees in the sky tonight, and he cherishes the sight of it, the way infinity looks from this five acre patch of grass.

“No,” Dean says with a shake of his head. The ice in his whiskey clinks gently in his glass. “Yours?”

Cas lets out a low rumble of a laugh. “Thankfully, no.”

Some small part of him, the part that may never be able to forget the Empty and all that it had meant for so long in his life, hanging over his head for years before pulling him away from Dean, waits for himself to be swallowed up once more. But Dean reaches out a hand and finds Cas’s, and he squeezes it tight. From inside comes Jack’s voice, loudly recounting some story from his travels, and Claire’s laugh replies.

No darkness rushes forth to grab him. There is only this: a patch of grass; the bleating of goats; the clucking of chickens; and the sound of family, just inside.

#destiel #deancas #deancas fic #destiel fic #spn fic #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #spn #spnfandom #supernatural #spn fanfic #virginia writes

60 notes · View notes

loulou-land · 1 day ago

Text

The Perfect Beach Day

Day 12 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | a day at the beach | 1,465 words | on ao3

Buck had been craving a day at the beach for what felt like weeks now. Living in LA meant he could simply go whenever he wanted. Oftentimes, Buck would drive his Jeep, park by the beach and just sit there letting the salty air and rhythmic crash of the waves soothe him. Other times, he'd grab his surfboard and hit the waves until exhaustion set in leaving him feeling satisfied and at peace.

Yet, in all the time he'd been with Tommy, they hadn't gone to the beach together. He’d wanted to change that. Buck had whined about his lack of ocean time, as well as his desires to go with Tommy until the other man had given in, kissing Buck on the forehead with a promise to make the trip on their next day off.

But the universe had other plans, because their schedules had refused to line up for weeks. That was, until now.

Which was the reason Buck was all but vibrating, barely able to contain his excitement right now. He had been looking forward to this all week, already picturing Tommy shirtless, the sun casting a golden glow over him, enhancing all his yummy muscles, his curls all tousled and unruly. The mere thought had Buck grinning like an idiot and foaming at the mouth.

Of course, him being who he was—he’d had so many plans for their first beach outing together that he'd had to bring out the clipboard. He meticulously made a list of everything he wanted to experience with Tommy—sunbathing, sand-castle building, swimming, having a picnic, taking an ice cream break and ending the day by watching the sunset. Buck had accounted for every single detail he could think of, wanting this to be the perfect beach day.

“Baby, we haven’t even parked yet,” Tommy said, amused as he glanced at Buck, practically bouncing in his seat, one hand on the door handle.

“I know,” Buck sighed. “I'm just excited.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Tommy said dryly, his mouth twitching slightly.

Buck shot him a dark look. “Oh, har har. Go ahead, make fun of me now. But wait till you see all the fun things I’ve planned.”

“You do know we’re here for the day, right? Not a whole week,” Tommy pointed out as he finally pulled into a parking spot.

“I know,” Buck replied cheekily. “That's why I made the list. It’s perfectly designed to maximize our time.” He turned in his seat, rummaging behind him until he came in contact with what he'd been looking for.

“Aha!” His fingers closed around the edge of the clipboard, and he triumphantly pulled it out, presenting it to Tommy like it was a sacred object.

Tommy hummed, taking one look at it before deadpanning, “Didn’t know we were bringing the clipboard along for our day.”

Buck narrowed his eyes. “It has the list. Of course I’d bring it.”

“Oh yes, Of course,” Tommy said, voice dripping with indulgent amusement. Before Buck could snark back at him, Tommy reached out, tugging him in by the back of his neck and pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his lips.

Buck let himself be distracted for a few blissful seconds before reality set it. He pulled away, squinting suspiciously. “Nice try, but I won't let you distract me from the schedule.”

“I wasn’t—” Tommy started, but the rest of his words were cut off as Buck eagerly jumped out of the truck, heading to the back to grab their things.

Tommy shook his head, amused, as he followed, gathering the rest of their gear. “Alright, lead the way. I’m sure you’ve got the perfect spot in mind.”

“If you must know, I do.” Buck said smugly. He had been to this beach plenty of times and he knew the ideal spot—one that offered both shade and sun, and was close enough to the water but also far enough from the tide when it started to rise.

And for once, luck was on their side. The spot was still available.

Buck set out the towels while Tommy placed the cooler and their bags down. He took a long, satisfied look around before launching into a rambling explanation of everything they were going to do.

“Okay, so I was thinking we’ll start with sunbathing. The sun’s rays are pretty light right now so we don’t—” Buck was interrupted by large hands grabbing his waist. Before he could make sense of it, the world tilted and the next thing he knew, he was upside down—his view consisting of Tommy’s very fine ass.

Buck gasped, kicking playfully as he wiggled in Tommy’s grasp. “Tommy! What are you doing? Put me down!”

“Mmm, in a minute,” Tommy said, laughing.

“Oh, you better not be thinking about doing what I think you are,” Buck warned lightly.

“We’re going swimming,” Tommy said innocently, moving closer to the water.

“Babe, we were supposed to sunbathe first! I had a plan,” Buck whined, swatting at Tommy’s backside.

Tommy moved one of his hands over the back of Buck’s thigh before sliding up, giving him a light pinch on the ass.

Buck yelped, then noticed they were almost in the water now. “Okay, fine!” We’ll go swimming first. You can put me down now”

Tommy ignored him.

“Oh, you are not seriously going to—Tom—” Buck’s protest was cut off as he was unceremoniously tossed into the cold water.

Buck resurfaced sputtering dramatically, as water dripped from his hair and down his face. He shook his head wildly, before setting his sights on Tommy. There must have been something in his eyes, because Tommy took a cautious step back, lifting his hands placatingly.

“Sweetheart,” Tommy started, attempting—and failing—to look apologetic, before bursting out laughing. “I'm sorry…you just look like a drowned angry cat.”

Buck lunged at him.

They wrestled around in the water, before switching to dunking each other, splashing water everywhere, as their laughter filled the air. Eventually, their playful rowdiness slowed, and they naturally drifted closer to each other. Buck wrapped his legs around Tommy’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder as he clung to him like a starfish.

Which reminded him of the documentary he'd watched the other night.

So, naturally, he had to start spewing facts about them.

“Did you know starfish aren't actually fish?” Buck murmured into Tommy’s ear.

He felt Tommy’s smile more than he saw it. “Tell me more.” Tommy replied, just like he always did when Buck had facts to share.

Tommy hummed as he listened—asking questions, keeping Buck from going off topic like he tended to do—his fingers lightly tracing random shapes over Buck’s forearms.

After a while, they decided to head back to their towels. Tommy grabbed a large beach towel, turning to Buck with a soft smile.

Buck grinned, stepping into Tommy’s arms and letting him dry him off. He shivered slightly whenever Tommy’s touch lingered over particularly sensitive spots. He watched Tommy’s face, his breath hitching at the love he saw reflected in his eyes, felt in the gentleness of his hands as he took care of him. Almost a year together, and Tommy still stole the breath from his lungs.

“How’s that? Good?” Tommy asked, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Buck just smiled and leaned in, kissing him slow and deep, tasting the salt of the ocean on Tommy’s lips. He deepened the kiss, chasing the taste, searching for Tommy’s warm tongue, moaning when he found it. Tommy pulled him closer, when—a screech farther up the beach reminded them of where they were. They broke apart, their foreheads touching as they caught their breath.

Tommy stepped back, but not before he pressed a soft kiss to Buck’s cheek.

Buck beamed.

Once dried, they settled onto the towel. Tommy sat first, Buck settling in front of him as he leaned back into Tommy’s chest. He sighed as Tommy’s arms came around him, holding him protectively. He never got tired of this—of the solid warmth of Tommy at his back, the steadiness, the quiet comfort. He melted into it, letting the stress of the past few weeks fade away. The salty air and the faint scent of Tommy's sunscreen grounded him, as they watched the waves roll in.

After a while, Tommy murmured in his ear, his voice a low rumble against Buck’s back. “So, what’s next on the list?”

Buck thought for a moment, then let out a soft, contented sigh. “You know what? The list can wait. Let’s just stay like this for now.”

Tommy hummed in agreement, pressing a lingering kiss to Buck’s shoulder.

And so, they stayed wrapped up in each other, watching the waves, enjoying their perfect beach day—exactly as it was.

#bucktommyfluffebruary #day at the beach #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #fluff #attempt at humor #my fluffebruary fics

53 notes · View notes

narrycherries · 10 hours ago

Text

ivy: clover blooms in the fields

she needs help and he just so happens to be the only one available..

(part 6)

mastermind / ivy series

word count: 12.3k

warnings/tags: harry x fem oc, angst, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, surgical procedure/recovery

[a/n: hi, sorry for missing a week but here u go! this is a very important part of the story so I hope u enjoy it. less angsty but still tense and frustrating for them, be patient with me we are getting to the good stuff I promise! part 7 is so good I can’t wait to give it to you!]

Waiting in a hospital room to be prepped for surgery was not how Ivy expected to spend her Wednesday evening. She had been experiencing painful aches in her stomach for the past few days, and she was familiar with the feeling but she hoped it was nothing. Maybe her period was messing up and the dates had shifted, it did that sometimes when she least expected it. The cramps and pulls of her muscles were worse than her usual period symptoms. She didn’t want to go to the emergency room, but when Emma found her in the bathroom crying her eyes out and holding her stomach, she forced her to go.

“Dad, it’s okay.” She mumbled into the phone as she closed her eyes, not wanting to be blinded by the bright hospital room lights.

Emma kept an eye on her as she sat on the uncomfortable couch across the room. She hated knowing that Ivy was feeling this bad and that she was having to have this procedure again, but she was glad to be by her side. Ivy pushed out a breath as her dad began worrying more and more.

“I can’t make it to you right now, honey. I’m.. I’m trying my best to get my boss to work with me.”

“Dad, I’m not alone. Emma’s here.. I’m going to be alright, I promise.”

“What did the doctor say? How many is it?” He was worried, and it broke her heart to know he was so far away and couldn’t get to her right now.

She took a deep breath, the pain medicine pumping through the IV in her arm was making her a little dizzy, in a good way. “Just the two.. they didn’t see any other ones.”

“I’ll try my best to-“

She cut him off. “Dad, please don’t.. it’s okay. I know you can’t change your schedule.. it’s fine, I promise. I’ll be alright. I’ve done this before.”

“You weren’t alone before.”

Her eyes opened, staring up at the ceiling. She didn’t know how to tell him any other way. She was familiar with the surgery she was going to have soon, she had been in this situation before. It wasn’t anything too serious, they caught it in time before any major issues occured. Her dad was a few hours away and she didn’t want him to try to rush to make it to her. His work schedule was tough to negotiate, so she didn’t want him to worry about it.

“Dad, please. I’m fine. I’ll call you when I get out. They said I’ll stay overnight and probably go home tomorrow afternoon.”

They went back and forth for a few more minutes, it was mostly him trying to figure how he could get to her and Ivy trying to convince him that she was going to be okay. It took a lot of bargaining, but eventually she assured him everything was fine. He didn’t want to agree to her terms, but he could tell she was getting frustrated with him. The last thing he wanted was for her to stress out and make things worse on her body. When she ended the call with her dad, her head shifted on the pillow, her eyes finding Emma.

“Is he upset?” Emma asked in a soft voice.

She sighed. “He’s not happy but.. I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll do my best to help.” Emma stood up, her arms folding over her chest as she walked to the hospital bed. “I won’t leave you alone, I promise.”

“Except tonight.. you can go home. I’ll have nurses to look after me.”

“Ivy, I don’t want you to be by yourself.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you to sleep on that couch. I’ll be fine here.”

Emma knew there wasn’t anything else she could say to change Ivy’s mind. She was rather stubborn at times. She looked around the room, her eyes scanning over the IV tube and the medical equipment surrounding the bed. She was terrified that something could go wrong, but she didn’t want to cause any more stress to Ivy’s mind.

“Okay. Just promise me you’ll call me if you need anything.”

Ivy smiled sweetly, glad to have her in the room. “I will, Em.”

Emma’s phone dinged in her back pocket, so she fished it out and read the text. “Niall says he hopes you feel better soon.”

“Thanks.. and don’t worry.. I’m not letting you miss your little trip with him.” Ivy said with a grin.

Emma’s brows furrowed. “I have to sit with you when you’re back home. Niall can plan it for another weekend.”

“No. You’re going. He’s put a lot of thought into it.”

“Ivy, your dad is going to freak out if he finds out. I can’t leave you for that long.”

She did the quick calculation in her head. Emma and Niall had a weekend trip planned for just the two of them. He wanted to take her someone nice and just enjoy time alone. They would be gone just the weekend, Friday evening to Sunday morning.

“I’ll just need help tomorrow night and Friday morning. Then I’ll be okay to move on my own. I’ve done it before.”

Emma was not pleased with what was being suggested. “No. You were just ten minutes from your dad the last time this happened.”

Ivy let out a gentle laugh, everyone was so worried for her when she wasn’t concerned at all. “I’ll be okay. I’ll be able to get out of bed by tomorrow night anyway. I’ll be fine, Emma.”

There was no more time to argue about the arrangements anymore. They’d have to continue on after the surgery was over. The nurse came in and told them it was time to get ready. Ivy wasn’t nervous, partly due to the fact she had pain medicine spilling through her body. She was calm and collected, whereas Emma was starting to worry herself into a panic. She called Niall as soon as the nurse gave her directions on where to wait. He was going to come up to the hospital if he could get someone to cover his shift at the store, he didn’t want them to be alone.

Ivy was wheeled to the operating room, where they went over everything again with her and assured her she’d be fine. It didn’t take long for them to put her to sleep and begin the surgery.

Emma’s heart was racing as she sat next to Niall, his arm secured around her shoulders as he tried his best to comfort her. She was worried beyond belief for Ivy. He was grateful that one of his employees was able to come in and take over his shift so he could be here for them. Emma was waiting half an hour before he was finally able to come.

“So.. what exactly is going on?” He asked with a bit of confusion, Emma had really explained it to him yet she just called and told him there was an emergency.

She took a deep breath and shifted so that she was leaning on him, her body feeling exhausted from all the constant worrying. “She was hurting really bad.. and when we came to the ER they did some scans and stuff. She has two cysts on her ovary.”

“Is that a bad thing? Like, are they dangerous?”

“I mean, they’re not dangerous but.. they can be. She’s had them before, a few times actually. She said they can get really big and they sorta weigh on the area. They cause crazy cramps and aches. She was hurting really bad, Niall.”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “But they can remove them, yeah? Get it all out before it causes any damage?”

“Yeah, they can. It’s a good thing they found them. She said sometimes cysts aren’t a big deal. I could have one right now and it could never bother me. But sometimes they just get.. in the way and cause issues.”

Niall nodded his head slowly, absorbing all the information. He wasn’t familiar with the subject matter, but he was glad that Ivy had successfully made it through this before and it didn’t sound too bad. With anything, though, it could’ve gotten worse. Ivy had a close call when she was a teenager, and that was the scariest moment of her life. Thankfully, the few other times she’s had to deal with the cysts, they’ve been much smaller and less aggressive.

“Was she scared before going back?”

Emma smiled gently at the thought of how relaxed Ivy had been. “No, she was calm. I mean.. the medicine helped that. But even before.. when they told her what was going on.. she was calm.”

“Experience plays a role in that, I’m sure.” Niall mumbled back.

“She doesn’t want me to stay with her this weekend. She wants us to go on our trip.” Emma turned her head to look at him, a pout evident on her face.

“We can reschedule, babe. I don’t mind.”

“She refuses to let me stay home. She wants us to go.”

Niall let out a sigh, not sure what he could really do about it. If Ivy didn’t want Emma to miss their trip and insisted she go, then he’d just go along with it. If Emma felt uncomfortable going out of town during her recovery, then he’d be fine with staying home. Apparently, Ivy wasn’t going to let that happen. She didn’t want them to stop their lives for her.

“If we stay home.. she might get angry with me.”

“How long do they expect her to stay here?” He asked, a thought popping into his mind. Before he could bring it up, he needed some details.

“If all goes well, she’ll be discharged tomorrow. They said it's a quick procedure with low risk complications. She’s had it before and never had an issue.” Emma said, picking at her thumbnail as she considered the what ifs.

“So.. you’ll be home tomorrow with her.. and Friday until it’s time for us to go.” Niall said, thinking his way through a plan that might benefit everyone. It would keep Ivy looked after and calm Emma’s nerves. “We can ask Michelle if she can check on her. Maybe stay with her Friday and Saturday night.”

Emma sat up, Niall’s arm falling from her shoulders. “I didn’t think about that. Do you think she’d do it?”

He laughed a little. “M’sure if we ask and she’s available, she’ll do it. She loves being around Ivy.”

“I just can’t leave her alone. I’d worry too much. Her dad can’t get out of work until Monday. She’d really be by herself, Niall.”

“We won’t let her be alone.” He assured her, reaching up to press his hand on her back. “Don’t worry too much.”

“Can you text Michelle?” The desperation in her tone made him softly smile. He was admiring her concern for Ivy, how much this was affecting her. Emma didn’t want anything to happen to her.

“Yeah.”

Her eyes went straight to the clock on the wall a cross from them, she was very impatient and wanted to know what was going on in the operating room. The doctor promised he’d let her know if anything bad was going on. She was just sick to her stomach at the thought of Ivy experiencing some kind of bad complication. Niall sent a quick text to Michelle, explaining briefly the situation they were in. He was hoping she wasn’t busy and would answer fast.

“She’s typing.” He uttered under his breath, capturing Emma’s attention.

She leaned over, her eyes burning holes through the screen of his phone. A message popped up and Niall read over it, a subtle frown shaping to his lips. Michelle was unfortunately unable to help out. She had already made a commitment to other plans for the weekend.

“Damn it.” Emma groaned, that worry building up higher and higher.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’ll see if anyone else can help out.”

Emma sat back in the chair, her head falling against the wall. She knew Ivy didn’t have anyone else in her family she would rely on during a time like this. Her dad was stuck, unable to get out of his scheduled work hours. She was the only person Ivy had that could take care of her. It was scary to think about leaving her alone.

After a little while of texting back and forth with everyone in their small circle, Niall came up short with a solution. He let out a sigh as one final idea popped into his mind. There was no other option left, aside from them staying home for the weekend. Ivy didn’t want that to happen, though. Maybe she’d change her mind if she knew what her only choice was.

“Well.. I have an idea.. but I don’t know if Ivy will like it.” Niall said as he handed Emma his phone so she could read over the text he just sent.

Her eyes widened and she looked over at him. “She’s going to hate this.”

—•—

The following day was going better than Emma ever could have imagined. Ivy was awake eating some of the soft foods the hospital provided for her, since she couldn’t eat a lot for a couple of days. She was in a rather pleasant mood, despite all she had gone through in the past few days. Ivy had been checked out by her doctor just an hour ago and he assured them that she was on the right path of healing. Her incision was looking well. Luckily, they didn’t have to add another scar to her body. They were able to go through the healed cut from her last surgery. She knew how to take care of it, how to make sure it stayed clean. They approved her discharge for later in the evening.

“Niall’s going to come get us and take us home.” Emma said with a hesitant voice, she hadn’t mentioned the arrangement Niall made for Ivy yet. “He can help you get inside and to the bedroom.”

“Okay, thanks. I really appreciate it.” She smiled back, content with the idea.

The only thing Emma could come up with as a lie. “Niall’s going to see if Alyssa can come over while we’re gone and check on you.”

Ivy nodded. “That would be nice.”

“He’s waiting for her to get back to him.” Emma continued her lie.

“This morning when they came in before you got here.. they told me I might experience some soreness for a few days, but they’re giving me a prescription for pain medicine. I don’t want you to worry too much about me.”

Emma sighed. “I have to worry, Ivy.”

“I’ll be okay.” She tried to give her a comforting smile, but she could tell Emma was stressed.

As much as Ivy wanted to keep assuring her everything would turn out fine in the end, she didn’t want to upset her. So, they both went quiet and just watched whatever was playing on the television hanging on the wall. Ivy didn’t know how her pain tolerance would be once she was out of the hospital, but she was hoping it was good. She never had any recovery problems with her previous surgeries, so she highly assumed this one would be good, too.

While they waited for the discharge to begin, she got a call from her dad who was still very much upset over the whole situation. Ivy calmed him down though by letting him know someone would be taking care of her over the weekend. She mentioned Emma, even though she wouldn’t be there, just to make sure her dad knew someone would be there. If he knew Emma was leaving, he would just freak out more.

After the call ended, she closed her eyes just to relax and sink back into her thoughts for a bit. Her dad wasn’t very emotional with her while she was growing up, and it got worse once her brother passed. But that didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t care about her, of course he did. He just had an odd way of showing it most of the time. Now, he was very worried and made sure to let her know he was going to come see her as soon as he could. She was grateful for his care, but she didn’t want to disturb his life. Just like with Emma and Niall, she didn’t want them to cancel their plans just to sit with her for a few days. She hated feeling like a burden, and she tried her best to explain that to Emma.

In the late afternoon, when everything was finalized with her discharge, Niall came to pick the girls up from the hospital. He had dropped Emma off that morning, so she didn’t have a way back anyway. He assisted the nurse in getting Ivy safely into the car from the wheelchair they brought her out in. Emma insisted she sit in the front since it would be easier to get out of the car once they got home. Ivy didn’t want to at first, but Niall gave her no choice.

He shut the door and met Emma at the back of the car. “Have you told her yet?”

She shook her head, keeping her voice to a whisper just in case. “No.. I’m waiting until tomorrow.”

Niall sighed. “Why? What if she doesn’t want it to happen?”

“Then we’ll stay home this weekend and reschedule.”

He wasn’t thrilled with Emma’s decision to hold off on the conversation he deemed to be very important, but he didn’t intervene. They both got in the car and soon started the trip back to their house. Ivy was comfortable for now, the pain medicine numbing any possible aches in her stomach. She felt odd riding in the car after getting so used to sitting in a bed, but she was ready to be home. The hospital bed was not as comfortable as her own, plus she wanted to be surrounded by her personal belongings and not light grey walls and sanitized counters.

It was nerve wracking trying to help Ivy get inside and to her bedroom, but Niall tried his best to be gentle with her. Emma held the door open, watching carefully as Niall guided her in. He was much stronger than Emma and could hold Ivy upright, assisting her as she walked carefully step by step. She wasn’t trying to rush inside, she was patient with herself and glad that Niall was, too.

“Sorry, Niall.” She muttered out as he finally got over the threshold of the door.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re doing fine.” He assured her as Emma moved behind them to shut the door.

She quickly ran to Ivy’s room to open the door. She cut on the light and went to the bed, pulling the covers back and adjusting the pillows so she’d be comfortable. Niall was moving at Ivy’s slow pace, reminding her every few moments that she was doing well. He didn’t want her to get into a hurry and hurt herself. Emma was making sure things were tidy in her room, just in case there were clothes laying around she figured Ivy wouldn’t want Niall to see. But her room was clean and there was nothing in the way. She looked around, thinking of other things she can do to help out.

They finally made it to the bedroom, Niall’s arm still wrapped around Ivy’s waist as he helped her make it to the bed. She let him go and carefully sat down on the side of the bed, a small grunt coming from her mouth.

“That wasn’t so bad, yeah?” He said with a smile as she looked up at him, she appeared to be exhausted.

“It was alright.”

“Do you want me to get you anything right now?” Emma asked as she watched her scoot back in the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot.

Ivy winced, her stomach slightly aching from all the moving around. “No, not right now.”

“Remember to move around as much as you can.” Niall said, giving her a stern look. “You don’t need to sit here all weekend.”

She let out a laugh. “I know, I know. But right now.. I need to rest.”

After a few moments, she got adjusted in the bed and felt like she could actually relax and hopefully get some sleep. She didn’t need to sleep all day, nor sit in the bed. The doctor made it clear that she needed to move around and be active when she could, but it was okay to rest when she needed to. She was familiar with the recovery plan and kept in mind all the things she did previously.

“Do you girls need anything else?” Niall asked.

Emma shook her head. “I don’t. Ivy?”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks, Niall, for helping.” She gave him a polite smile.

“No worries. If you need anything, let me know.”

Emma walked Niall to the door, telling him multiple times how grateful she was for his help. He was glad to know he could be of assistance. They hugged and said their goodbyes, but not before Niall reminded her she needed to tell Ivy the plan soon. She ignored him and said she’d get to it eventually. Once he was gone, Emma returned to Ivy’s room with a reusable bottle full of ice water and a small notebook.

“Alright.. tell me some things you want me to get at the grocery store. I know you’ll need some softer foods for a while.” She said as she sat down at Ivy’s vanity, a pen in her hand as she was waited to start the list.

Ivy tried to tell her it wasn’t a big deal and she could eat what was in the house already, but Emma wasn’t going to accept that. She wanted to make sure she had everything Ivy needed and wanted for the weekend. So, after a bit of nagging, Ivy finally gave in and listed off some items.

—•—

Ivy let out a grunt as she stood up from the toilet. She was not having a good day at all. The morning was tough, she tried to get up and move around the house but every step she took sent a shock wave of pain through her body. She didn’t wake Emma up, just suffered on her own as she tried to scramble a couple of eggs. Emma did get up when she smelled the food, rushing to find Ivy leaning on the counter with her face scrunched up, holding in the pain.

She was not pleased with Ivy doing all this work on her own, despite her claiming she was fine. Emma finished the cooking and then helped her back to the bedroom afterwards. They sat in her bedroom for a while, talking about different things to try and distract her from the uncomfortable feelings. Emma was deeply concerned about her, but Ivy kept pushing it off.

After refusing to eat anything for lunch, Ivy tried to make it to the bathroom to get in the shower. Although the doctor approved her for taking one after Emma insisted she call and double check, Ivy was being talked out of it. Emma was terrified she’d lose her balance and be too weak to catch herself, resulting in her falling and hurting herself even more. She tried her best to convince Emma it would be fine, but she lost the battle. Emma said she should just wait until the next day. She helped Ivy wash up with a wet hand towel, but Ivy wasn’t pleased with the outcome. She wanted to be clean.

Niall was supposed to come pick Emma up for the trip in an hour, so she figured it would be best to mention the plan to Ivy. She tapped on the door and heard a quiet ‘come in’. Emma put on a smile as she saw that Ivy was sitting up in the bed, her journal resting on her lap. She was glad to see she had busied herself with something.

“Hey, feeling okay?” Emma’s smile dropped to frown as Ivy’s head lifted and she saw how sad she looked. “Ivy, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “ I.. I thought I’d feel better.. but I don’t know. I’m really sore.” Ivy had tears swelling in her eyes as she pressed her hand over her covered incision.

“Do you want me to stay home?” Emma felt like she was letting her down. “I swear, it’s no big deal.”

“No, Emma.” She whined out, squeezing her eyes shut as a wave of dull pain flooded through her torso. It was much more bearable than the aches the cysts had caused. “You said.. something about.. Alyssa coming over? I can.. I can pay her.”

A lump began to grow in Emma’s throat as reality was quickly crashing in It was no longer an option to keep the secret from her. Guilt was building in her gut as she realized she shouldn’t have waited this long to begin with. Ivy didn’t notice how nervous Emma got, her eyes were closed as she tried to fight through the pain.

“Well, she can’t. Niall asked around and.. everyone is unavailable.. except.. one person.” Emma’s voice trailed off to a whisper.

“Who is it?” Ivy’s brain was so fogged from all the medicine and the uncomfortable sensations happening in her body that she couldn’t come up with any ideas on her own. She tried to think of people she knew, but she was coming up short.

Emma started to fumble with her own fingers, a nervous feeling taking over. “Ivy, I.. I think I should just stay. You’re not going to like the idea.”

Ivy groaned at the mention of the trip being canceled. “I don’t care who it is, Emma. Just need someone to check on me.”

There was a quiet moment that seemed to last forever. Emma had to gather up the courage to finally tell Ivy what was going to happen while they were gone. There was no turning back now.

Niall chuckled as Ivy pushed out a huff once she landed softly on the couch. She wanted to get out of the bed for a while and attempt to move around. She figured it wouldn’t be hard to navigate from the couch to the kitchen. Emma came in with her bag, sitting it next to the door before going to give Ivy a hug.

“I’ll text you as much as I can.” She whispered into her ear before standing up.

“Don’t spend your whole trip thinking about me.” Ivy grinned, shifting her eyes to Niall. “Keep her occupied.”

A smirk shaped to his lips. “That’s the goal.”

“We’ll check in.” Emma added, still nervous about leaving her.

Ivy opened her mouth to say something back, but a knock on the door stopped her. Niall looked over his shoulder, already knowing who was behind the door. He walked away from the girls to answer it. Everyone seemed to be a tad bit on edge, especially Ivy, who’s smile faded to a straight line on her face. Her eyes moved down to her own lap, looking at her chipped nail polish.

“Hey.” Niall’s voice filled the quiet room. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

The remnants of physical pain were pushed aside as anxiety claimed possession of Ivy’s body. She never thought she’d hear Harry’s deep voice roll through her house like thunder filling a stormy sky. She held her breath as footsteps tracked in. Niall shut the door and turned to face him. Emma just stared at Ivy, trying to figure out how she was feeling.

Harry was their only option. Everyone else had things they couldn’t get out of for the weekend. Earlier, when Emma told Ivy about Harry, she figured her mind would change and the plans with Niall would be rearranged for another time. But Ivy didn’t cave in to the fear. She was determined to not let herself care or worry about it. He was just going to check on her, surely she could handle that.

She was listening as Niall was explaining to him what all he needed to do and what he needed to watch out for. He mentioned how the soreness and pain could come in sudden waves. Ivy wasn’t too concerned with what Niall was saying until a specific response from Harry made her head spin towards them.

“So, I’m staying the weekend, right?”

“Yeah. Emma’s gonna grab some blankets for you before we leave. Couch is actually comfortable. I’ve napped on it a few times.”

Ivy interrupted the conversation, her voice wasn’t as loud as she hoped but she still caught their attention. “Nobody said anything about staying the night.”

“Ivy, you can’t be alone right now.” Emma started, carefully resting her hand on Ivy’s leg. “You hardly made it to the bathroom by yourself earlier. I don’t want you to fall or trip or anything like that. If you get stronger by tomorrow, then he can go home and just stop by.”

“Nobody asked me about this.”

Emma felt a punch to her gut, she had made another mistake. “I know, I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset. Ivy, you can't be by yourself right now.”

“You’re a lot weaker than you might realize, Ivy.” Niall walked over to them, a half smile on his face as he tried to be helpful and not make things worse. “If someone is here to help you walk around, you can build your strength up a lot quicker.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Harry took a few steps forward, his eyes landing on Ivy as he spoke. “As promised.”

“He won’t do anything stupid or I’ll kick his ass.” Niall gave her a chuckle, and it actually made her smile. “And.. there’s something he has to say to you.”

Watching Niall give Harry a stern look pulled a giggle from her, she was amused by how Niall acted like a father figure in this moment. Emma couldn’t help but laugh, too. Harry rolled his eyes and gave Niall a lift of his middle finger. Niall just smirked and crossed his arms, waiting for the statement he made Harry agree to give.

Ivy’s heart skipped a beat as Harry’s eyes moved back onto her. She didn’t know what to expect from him. This entire situation was insane, she couldn’t wrap her head around it. How did she end up in this predicament? Nobody else could stay with her aside from him, that was just her luck..

“I’m sorry for.. yelling at you. I was drunk and overreacted.” He said, not too thrilled about having to apologize to the girl but glad he finally got it off his chest. Even if it wasn’t his initial idea to say it, he wanted to..

Her mind brought up memories of that night just a few weeks ago. She so easily remembered the anger that covered his face and the loud yells that he couldn’t seem to hold back. She wanted to be furious with him now like she had then, and the days following when her diary caught hell about it. But she couldn't find it in her to be angry at this very moment. Perhaps it was the medicine lurking in her veins, clouding her judgement and making her more susceptible to being nice.

“It’s alright.” She finally mumbled out, her eyes falling from his.

“Good, now everyone’s back on good terms.” Niall clapped his hands together. “Let me show you where everything is.”

Niall gestured for Harry to follow him down the hall, leaving the girls alone. Emma instantly turned to Ivy and started to apologize.

“I’m sorry. I really am, Ivy. I know you.. you can’t stand to be around him, but please, please just let him look after you.” She was trying to make up for everything, despite Ivy actually not being that mad. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

She let a smile cover her lips. “Emma, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? God, that medicine must be strong.”

“Yeah, I think it’s working too well.”

They shared a laugh, even though it hurt Ivy to contract the muscles in her stomach. She pushed her hair out of her face, wishing it was pulled back altogether. The plan to have Harry stick around for a few days was not something she would have come up with on her own, but she was somewhat glad he was going to be there. As much as she tried to act like she was fine all day, it was tough on her body. She was struggling, no matter how hard she tried to lie to Emma and Niall, it was painful to move sometimes. The medicine only worked for so long, and there was a waiting period she had to take in between doses. It was going to be a long weekend, but at least she wouldn’t be alone..

After they left, Ivy started to regret agreeing to let Harry be the one to look after her. His imposing stature and cold demeanor were already seeping into every inch of her home. There was an obvious opposition from him, his presence alone was causing resentment. She tried her best to look past it, hoping maybe he’d warm up to her and get used to be in her home. When she stopped by his shared space with Niall that time, she felt awkward being in their home. Perhaps this behavior was normal in a different way for him.

He sat down in the armchair adjacent to her, his body falling against the back of the chair and his hands hitting his thighs. He looked around, somewhat curious about the room. Without looking her way, he spoke.

“So, what’s the plan? What am I supposed to do?”

She took a deep breath and remained courageous - this was her home after all, he couldn’t intimidate her here. “I have two rules. One, don’t come in my room.”

He let out a short laugh. “How am I supposed to check on you if I can’t come in your room?”

“Knock and I’ll come to the door, I need to move around anyway.”

Harry lifted his brows, not sure why she was making this more difficult than it had to be. “You could fall, you know. That’s the point of me being here.. to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine. I can make it to the door.”

“Whatever, what’s the second rule?”

She was somewhat surprised he was engaging in a conversation with her, but it was obvious they couldn’t get away with ignoring each other this time. He still wasn’t looking at her, he opted to stare at the books on the coffee table that were neatly stacked. He figured they were just for decoration, but he had a small wonder if they had been read by her eyes

“Don’t wake me up. If I’m asleep, just leave me alone.”

He made a confused expression. “How will I know if you’re awake or not if I can’t open the door?”

“Text me. I’ll have my phone next to me the whole time.” Her sass returned to her tone.

He smirked lightly, but she wasn’t paying him any visual attention. “I don’t have your number.”

“Well, give me your phone.”

Harry was amused by her quick and sharp replies. He was used to her hesitant mumbles and nervous glances. He stood up and reached into his pocket for his phone, quickly unlocking it before handing it to her. He watched as she opened his contacts and added her name and number into a new listing.

“There, now you have it.”

He sighed as he sat back down. “There’s only two rules?”

She pursed her lips as she thought about it. “For now, yeah.”

“Alright, well.. what do you want to do? Stay here or go to your room?” Harry didn’t quite know what to expect from her, but he assumed she wouldn’t want to be around him.

“Stay here for now.” She said, picking up the remote from beside her.

He rose to his feet again. “I gotta go get my bag. Don’t fall off the couch before I get back.”

A chuckle rolled past his lips as she snarled her lip and rolled her eyes at him, finding no humor in his comment.

He was only gone a few short minutes, but Ivy couldn’t help herself from getting lost in her thoughts. She didn’t want to think about him, didn’t want to get so obsessed with her admiration for him. Why wasn’t he being more rude to her? Why wasn’t he treating her like he usually did? Was he doing this only because he owed Niall a favor?

When Harry came back in, he dropped his bag next to the armchair and sat down again, this time his eyes shifted to where Ivy was placed on the couch. Before he could say something, she blurted out a sentence.

“I don’t think I need much help.. I don’t know why they insisted on someone being here.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. “Niall said your knees were weak and shaking when you got out of bed earlier. Sounds to me like you need help.”

She crossed her arms on her chest, avoiding his eyes. “My legs were asleep.. that’s all.”

“Sure.” His response was sarcastic, but the words that followed seemed more genuine. “What happened to you anyway?”

She turned her head, meeting the stare she could feel burning through her skin. “I had emergency surgery.. I had a few cysts that were hurting me. Niall didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head, changing his stare to just a gaze as he blinked. “He didn’t specify.. said he didn’t want to tell your business without your consent.”

Ivy was appreciative of that. As much as she trusted Niall and wouldn’t have minded if he told everyone what happened, she was glad he was mindful of her privacy. She decided to look away from him.

“It’s nothing serious.. I’ve had them before. Sometimes they become aggressive and have to come out.”

“Where were they?”

“Um, on my ovary.”

Harry listened with more intensity than he ever had when it came to her. He wanted to understand what was going on in case an emergency unfolded while he was on duty here. Plus, he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t concerned for her. She is a human being after all, not just a soulless body.

“But you’re alright? Like.. they’re not tumors?”

Ivy felt a spark go off in her chest. Why did he seem so concerned? No, she was just overthinking it. She had an emergency surgery, people were going to be curious about the reason. She pushed aside the feeling and let out a soft sigh.

“No, they’re not tumors.”

He went quiet after that, just gave her a nod when she glanced his way. There was still apprehension radiating from her, still that what if feeling. What if she said something he didn’t like and he went off on her? What if he was just pretending to care so he can use it against her when he’s mean to her again? What if he actually cared..

Neither of them spoke for over an hour and a half. Ivy kept her eyes on the television and Harry stayed on his phone, mindlessly scrolling. She didn’t want to be the one to break the silence. He ended up asking her if she wanted anything to eat, but she said she was fine and she ate earlier. That was a lie. She was too nervous to eat. He made sure she didn’t want anything a few minutes later, double checking just in case she changed her mind. She hated feeling like a bother, she didn’t want to burden him with making her food. She assured him she was fine.

It wasn’t much longer when she stretched her arms above her head and yawned, catching his attention. She shifted closer to the edge of the couch, about to stand up when Harry got up to help her. He held his hand out, but she just looked up at him.

“M’fine.”

He sighed lightly. “Do you need my help?”

As she stood up, still ignoring his hand, she turned away from him so she could head towards her room. “No.. just walk behind me.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he took a step closer to her, she wasn’t moving very fast so he didn’t have to go far. “You don’t need to risk falling.”

“I’m okay.”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

Ivy grunted, wanting to scream but she refrained. “Because I had surgery on my stomach, not my legs. It was a minimally invasive procedure.. they didn’t chop me up.”

She was glad he didn’t give her a snarky remark. He stayed behind her, his hand out in case he needed to grab her, and followed her to her room. Ivy’s steps were delicate, her eyes glued to the floor. She was able to walk on her own, but after a few feet her legs began to get weak. She stopped to take a quick break.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” She quickly said, squeezing her eyes shut.

She had to gather up all her strength before walking again. This time she was moving faster, in hopes to get it over with. The doctor instructed her to walk as much as she could to gain her energy. While her legs weren’t operated on, the scar on her lower torso was painful as her body shifted - each press of her foot to the floor created pressure.

“Okay. See, I made it.” She said with a sigh of relief as she reached her bedroom door.

He moved beside her so he could see her face. “And you’re sure you can make it to your bed?”

“Yes.”

Harry didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to go against her rule. She didn’t want him in her private space, and he was going to respect that wish. Maybe her bed was close to the door and she could get there quickly?

“Alright.”

She turned the handle, about to push the door open, when she stopped and looked up at him. “Did they give you the pillow and blankets?”

“Yeah.”

“If you get cold.. you can turn the air up.”

He gave her a nod. “Alright, but I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll, um, text you when I get up.”

Harry licked his lips quickly. “Call me.. in case I’m asleep.”

“Okay. Thanks for sort of helping me.” She shrugged her shoulders, then slipped into her room, shutting the door behind her.

As much as he wanted to wait until he knew she was in the bed, he didn’t want to intrude on her privacy, so he went back to the living room. He shut off the lights after laying the covers on the couch. It felt odd to be on a couch, but he easily got comfortable. Ivy was already bundled under blankets. She drank a bit of water with her nighttime dose of pain medicine, getting in a comfortable position so she wasn’t hurting. Before long, they were both asleep.

—•—

Ivy hoped it had all been a dream, that none of it ever happened. Her stomach wasn’t healing from a surgical cut, her body wasn’t exhausted, and Harry wasn’t in her living room sleeping on the couch. But unfortunately for her, it was all real. A groan slipped through her lips as her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the volume was purposely lowered so that nobody would disturb her slumber. She wanted to sleep in as long as possible so she could be away from Harry. To her dismay, his name was lit up on the screen when she brought it close to her eyes.

She answered with a groggy voice. “Hello?”

“Are you awake?”

She huffed back. “I am now.”

��You need to come eat something. What do you want?” He said through a sigh, hoping she wouldn’t be as difficult today as she had been the evening before.

“Nothing.. M’not hungry.”

“It’s past eleven.. you need to come eat something.”

She felt like she could sleep for another ten hours, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She had to get up and be active, it was the only way she would get her energy back to normal.

“I don’t want anything.” She told him again. “But m’getting up.”

“Are you coming out of your room?” He asked with a less stern voice than he had been using.

“Yeah. I can’t lay down all day.”

“Alright.”

She wondered if he would just come to her door if she had to ask him, since she was so insistent on not needing any help before. She could tell she would be weak once her feet hit the floor.

“Can you.. come to my room?”

“Yeah, that’s my job, isn’t it?” He wasn’t cocky with his words, he spoke in a normal tone.

She smiled softly. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll be right there.” She swore she could hear a smile.

Ivy hung up after that, telling him she needed a few minutes to get dressed. She knew she’d have to use the bathroom before she went to the living room, so she tried to mentally prepare for that. It didn’t take her very long to put on a tshirt and a pair of cotton shorts, something she’d be comfortable in all day. She moved carefully as she dressed and soon found herself at the door. She wasn’t feeling too bad yet, but she knew she’d need to take the medicine before she left the room.

She held back a groan as she twisted around to go back to the nightstand where the orange bottle was waiting for her. She took one of the pain medication pills, making a mental note of the time so she wouldn’t take it too early later on. Finally, she made it back to the door where Harry had been waiting with his shoulder pressed against the hallway wall.

“Admitting to yourself that you need help today?” He said with a smirk she didn’t find appealing.

“M’tired, not weak.” She muttered out as he bent his arm and stuck it out for her. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Ivy tried to be confident with her movements, hoping to not make a big deal out of it in her head. So, she grabbed onto the inside of his elbow and secured her other hand on his forearm, holding on so that he could assist her to the bathroom. He led her at a steady, slow pace so that she wouldn’t trip over her feet. She was mindful of her steps, glancing down every so often to check her footing. She slipped off his arm as she reached the bathroom, leaving him in the hall to wait patiently. As much as he didn’t want to be here, he wasn’t completely irritated by having to help her. He wouldn’t want someone to leave him alone if he were in a similar situation, and just because they didn’t get along doesn’t mean he wanted the girl to get hurt even more.

“Have you decided to eat now?” He said as she came out of the bathroom.

She pushed out a deep breath. “No.”

He shook his head lightly, not believing her at all. He let her take his arm again, she returned to the same position. It wasn’t as awkward as either of them expected it to be. She was focused on not falling or straining her stomach, instead of on the fact she was touching his very strong, toned arm. And Harry was just watching her closely, not thinking about anything other than not letting her fall. He knew he’d be quick enough to catch her before she hit the ground.

When they got to the living room, he guided her to the couch and she chose the spot on the left side so she could prop up against the corner. He asked her if she needed anything and her only request was a cup of ice water. She was very content with his decent behavior, he didn’t seem to be as vicious as he normally was.

“Have you taken your medicine?” Harry asked as he sat down in the armchair, claiming the spot as his own for the time being.

Ivy was looking at the neatly stacked pile of the two blankets and pillow that he used to sleep with last night. It sat perfectly on the other end of the couch. She shifted her eyes to him, realizing how far away he was.

“Yeah, I took it before I left my room.”

He slowly nodded, looking down at his phone for a moment before moving his eyes up. “I don’t want this to be weird for you.”

Her brows dropped a little. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in your own home. I know this.. isn’t what you wanted to happen, and you probably don’t want me around, but I don’t want you to feel awkward about it.”

Ivy was slightly taken aback by what he was saying. He didn’t give her the impression of being someone who considered another’s feelings or thoughts. She looked away from him the moment he ran his hand through his long hair, pushing it back from his face. What could she say that was nice and not rude in any way? She didn’t want to be unintentionally mean.

“I mean it’s not.. my ideal situation, but it’s fine. I’m kinda glad someone’s here with me. I’m not uncomfortable.”

He was no longer looking at her either. “I know we don’t necessarily get along, but I just want you to know I wouldn’t do anything on purpose to make you uncomfortable while I’m here.”

“Harry, I’m not uncomfortable. I have to get used to it, yeah, but it’s not that bad. Like I said, I’m glad I have some help. I.. I’m a bit worse off than I thought I’d be.”

He was silent for a long moment, making her fear that she didn’t say what he wanted to hear. What if he blew all this out of proportion and left her stranded? A nervous feeling bubbled in her gut, was he going to get frustrated if they kept talking about this? It wasn’t an easy conversation and she knew he didn’t handle that sort of thing well.

“I’ll do my best to help, but I’ll give you some space.” He sat up in the chair, about to stand but he stopped when she looked towards him.

“Are you leaving?” Her voice had softened since the last time she spoke.

“No, I’m just going to sit at the table for a while.” He made it to his feet this time. “I’ve got something I need to work on.”

“Okay.” She watched as he reached into his bag and pulled out a thick book she thought resembled a journal.

Harry gave her one last look before he walked past her, heading to the kitchen. Ivy was confused to say the least. What he brought up sounded so sincere and serious. She was surprised by it, but she was glad he said what he said. Maybe he didn’t hate her that much after all? It was evident he knew they shared a lot of tension.. but perhaps it was more bearable than she thought.

For almost an hour, Harry sat at the table and quietly wrote in his journal. Ivy wasn’t sure what exactly he was writing, and she didn’t dare ask him. Maybe it was something personal or just work related. She kept her eyes on the movie she picked to watch, but after a while her stomach started to grumble. She bit down on her cheek as she felt a layer of drowsiness fall over her brain. She was feeling the effects of the medication, the subtle pain from her incision was gone for now and her brain was a tad foggy.

She couldn’t stand it anymore, she needed something to eat. She thought about getting up, but she was entirely too comfortable. She had maneuvered herself on the couch so her legs were stretched out and she was leaning into the corner, a throw blanket over her.

“Harry.” She said his name, but she was unaware of just how soft she was speaking.

He didn’t answer her right away as she expected, so she tried again. Maybe he was focused and just didn’t hear her.

“Harry.” Her chirp was more audible this time.

“Yes?” He called back from the kitchen, his eyes lifting up to peer her way.

The open layout made it easy for him to see her from the small table. She hadn’t moved at all, she was in the same spot as when he looked at her the last time. He gave her glances every now and then to make sure she was alright. She was talking again, but he couldn’t hear her over the television. He stood up and started the short trip to the living room. She furrowed her brows and frowned as she realized he wasn’t talking back to her. Just as she was about to move to sit up, he appeared in front of her.

“I couldn’t hear you.” He said, his towering height made her feel small.

“M’kinda hungry.” She mumbled out, her eyes were wider than usual, her lips rolled to a pout.

“What would you like?”

“I dunno.”

He was being patient with her, since it was obvious her mentality had changed slightly. He could tell she was drowsy. He wasn’t a stranger to the common side effects of painkillers, so he easily recognized she was experiencing them.

“Pick something. You need to eat.”

Ivy rolled her lips in as she thought for a minute about the options. She could eat solid food by now, it had been long enough since the surgery but she didn’t want something that was too heavy as she was dealing with gentle waves of nausea.

“Can you make me some oatmeal?”

He couldn’t resist the subtle smile that tugged on his lips. “Where’s the stuff in the cabinets?”

She shook her head. “We have some packets.”

“You want instant oatmeal?” He asked with a light laugh.

She felt a little unsure about his reply, it made her feel silly. Was he making fun of her? Of course, it was just the worry in her mind mixed with the dazing effect of the medicine that was causing this.

“Yes.. The apple cinnamon one if there’s any left. That’s my favorite.”

Harry realized she was speaking very calm and gentle, like she was unable to speak any louder. Her eyes had dropped to her lap where she rubbed her fingers against the back of her other hand. This wasn’t the usual girl he was used to dealing with - even when she became shy with him, she was never this quiet. Her demeanor was very different, more fragile than ever before. He didn’t want to risk talking too harsh to her, so he tried his best to stay calm and on a level she would appreciate.

“I could make you some fresh oatmeal, you know.” He tried offering.

She frowned. “No, I want the packet, please.”

He let out a soft sigh. “Okay, where are they at?”

“The pantry.. next to the cereal.”

A feeling he so rarely got occurred when she tilted her head back and looked at him - a feeling he had only a few times, all to which were because of her. A flutter in his heart nearly stopped it, his chest tightened and he felt his lungs weighing down. Something about the way she looked at him, her face so softened, her eyes wide - she looked like an angel.

“Alright.” He managed to get out something. “Do you want me to add any sugar?”

She considered it, but shook her head. “No, but just a little bit of extra cinnamon.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Harry.” She whispered to him.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Ivy waited patiently as Harry microwaved the oatmeal for her. He wasn’t too keen on her eating the prepackaged stuff when he was perfectly capable of cooking it fresh for her, but it was her choice. She seemed to be used to it, especially her favorite kind. He was just glad she was finally eating something.

When he brought it to her, he made sure to ask if she needed anything else. She requested a banana from the basket on the island, so he went and got it for her.

“Thanks.” She muttered as she sat the banana next to her.

“You’re welcome.”

“Thanks for making this.” She said, sniffing the oatmeal she scooped onto the spoon. “It smells good.”

“You don’t have to thank me for everything.” He reminded her.

She didn’t say anything, just gave him a glance before focusing on the oatmeal. She had to blow on the spoonfuls to cool them down. Harry had already walked back to the table when she called his name, turning her head to look for him.

“Yeah?” He hadn’t sat down yet, so he made his way back to her.

“Can you get me a napkin?”

He nodded, turning back to go to the kitchen. He was actually glad she was utilizing him, he didn’t want her to be nervous to ask him to do something. When he gave her the napkin, she mumbled a soft thank you in return.

Ivy ate the oatmeal slowly, savoring the bites each time. Harry had returned to the table, picking up where he left off with whatever he was writing. After sitting for a bit once the food was gone, she realized she needed to use the bathroom, all the water she had been drinking was catching up to her.

“Harry.” She called his name, this time turning her head in his direction.

“Yeah?”

“I need to use the bathroom. Can you help me?”

He got up from the table and walked over to her again, giving her a confirming nod. She was able to stand up on her own, but her legs were feeling stiff as if they couldn’t move. She chose not to say anything and just started to walk. Harry kept a close distance, holding his hand out behind her in case he had to catch her. She made it past the couch, but that was it.

“Wait, Harry.” She froze, looking over her shoulder.

“What is it?” He asked with a drop of his brows. “Are you hurting?”

“I don’t feel.. as strong as I thought.” Ivy gave him a slightly worried look.

“I’ll help you.”

Harry gently pressed his hand to her lower back, then placed his other on her elbow to guide her. She was nervous at first, but she took a few steps. She was grateful there was no pain right now, but the fear of her legs giving out was just as scary. But she couldn’t give up, she needed to move around.

“Go on, you’re alright.” He said in a calm voice as she tried to stop.

“I don’t wanna fall.” She whined softly as they freed toward the hallway. They weren’t far from the bathroom, yet she was taking her time.

“You won’t. I’m right here.” He tried to assure her, but she was not trusting her legs.

Ivy felt a wave of anxiety flood her body. “Harry, don’t let me fall.”

Harry took a deep breath, his patience was fine, he was just disappointed that he couldn’t help her more. He slid his hand to her waist to give her more support.

“I won’t let you fall, love. You’re fine. I got you.” The words that came from his mouth made her heart drop.

What did he just call her? No, there was no need to overreact. He said it so casually, like it was a fixed word in his vocabulary. He must say it a lot or use it in a friendly way.. Ivy couldn’t wrap her head around it. She swallowed hard, trying to think of anything else. She failed at doing so.

After a couple slow minutes of her trying to gain strength, they finally made it to the bathroom. Harry let her go and opened the door for her.

“I’ll walk back in here.” He mumbled to her as she stepped over the threshold.

“Why?”

A smile pulled on his lips. “Give you some privacy.”

“Oh.. right.”

Once she handled her business and washed her hands, Ivy stood at the sink and stared at her reflection. Her hair was messy, most likely tangled up. She saw how tired her eyes appeared. She felt unclean. The routine of showering had been disrupted by the surgery. She hasn’t been able to submerge her sewn incision yet, so having a hot bubble bath was out of the picture. Maybe she can gather enough energy to shower before bed tonight.

When she opened the door and peeped her head out, she was somewhat disappointed by not seeing Harry. He wasn’t lying about stepping away to give her some personal time alone. She licked her lips and called out for him.

“Harry.. I’m done.”

He appeared in the hallway, walking straight towards her. She was relieved to know he was there. While it was not too hard of a task for her to walk on her own, the fear of tripping or losing her balance was frightening.

Harry assisted her back to the living room. She chose the same spot on the couch to sit down on. He asked her if she needed anything, but she didn’t. He was about to walk back to the kitchen when she said his name.

“Harry.” Her voice was as soft as ever.

He realized she had never said his name as much to him as she has today. He liked the way it rolled off her tongue, how sweet it sounded in her voice. It was hard to not think about that.

“Yeah?”

Ivy’s eyes fell from him. “M’sorry if I’ve been mean since you got here.”

He kept a gentle smile on despite her not looking. “I wouldn't say you’ve been mean.”

She huffed, pulling the blanket up to her collar bones. “You’re being really nice to me with helping and all that and I don’t wanna be mean.”

Harry had to keep in mind that her medicine was making her somewhat loopy. She wasn’t the bold, energetic girl he knew she could be. She wasn’t even the super shy, locked away girl he’d witnessed either. She was soft and quiet and delicate.. He didn’t want to say anything wrong or that would make her believe she’s right.

“You haven’t been mean, Ivy.”

There it was again, that little spark in heart that popped in whenever he said her name. She nodded softly, and surprisingly moved her gaze back to his.

“Can.. can you tell me something.. before you go back in there?”

Harry didn’t know what to expect. “I guess, what is it?”

Maybe it was the medicine that made her so open with him right now. She didn’t have to battle with her anxiety or face any worrying thoughts. She was free to just speak to him like nothing else mattered.

“The other night.. why did you.. get so mad at Cory?”

The question rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t want to hash it up again. He shook his head and tore his eyes away from her.

“Ivy, I don’t want to talk about it.”

She hesitated at first, unsure if he would get angry at her right now. She was in such a vulnerable state, surely he’d show her some grace. “I.. I just want to know.. were you mad at me?”

Harry didn’t want to get into it. “No, I wasn’t.”

“You.. you screamed at me.” She mumbled right back.

“And I apologized to you.”

It didn’t go unnoticed by either of them that the volume of his voice increased slightly. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she stared down at the coffee table. Maybe asking him that wasn’t a good idea. Things were going so well, why did she have to jeopardize that? Harry watched her for a solid minute, taking note of how she seemed to be sad about it. Her eyelids were heavy, her lips had rolled to a pout, and her hands were rubbing each other in her lap. She was trying to get out of the situation, but he was standing there staring at her.

“The way you told him to get off of you..” His voice almost frightened her, she didn’t think he’d speak back. “I just immediately thought about the night that guy was chasing you. I didn’t want you.. to be that scared again.”

Sincerity was rare when it came to him. He never let it be seen how he really felt. Nobody got any special treatment, he kept things to himself and didn't explain his actions if asked - but Ivy got that treatment. He’s found himself again telling her more than she should know. For just a split second, her eyes met his. She didn’t reply to him, didn’t even give him an expression. Her gaze fell to the pile of things next to the armchair.

“Is that.. the stuff people got for me?”

He was grateful she let the previous topic go. “Yeah, Emma told me to help you put it away but since I’m not allowed in your room.. I left it there.”

She hummed to herself, looking at the collection of gift bags. She knew that she received a few things from everyone and she was appreciative of that. There hadn’t even a chance for her to go through it yet, she had been so tired since she got home.

“Can you bring it to me? I wanna look at the stuff. Please.” She added the final word in a quick chirp.

Harry gathered the gift bags and brought them to the couch, sitting them next to her. He wasn’t sure what she was going to ask him to do next, if anything, so he chose to sit in the chair and watch her open the stuff. She started with the bag she recognized, the one from Emma. She got it at the hospital but didn’t go through it. She pulled out a stuffed teddy bear that was honey brown, attached to it was a pretty pink ribbon bow. She smiled sweetly as she read over the card Emma left for her. The second bag was labeled as being from Michelle. It was an assortment of snacks and candy that she was excited to dig into it. A card was also left, wishing her a quick recovery and a girls night soon. Alyssa put together a snack collection for her, too, with Zayn adding a short get well message to the card. She felt spoiled, but it was a relief to know they cared enough to send her things.

The last bag was a small one. The outside was covered in pink flowers, the bag itself being white. She reached inside and let out a shriek as she grabbed the small stuffed animal. It was a very pale shade of pink with big plastic, glittery blue eyes.

“Look at this one!” She was talking to herself, squeezing the pig with both hands. She thought it was the cutest looking thing she’d ever seen. It had an odd look to it that made it even more adorable.

She checked the bag, but there was no card or anything. There was nothing written on the outside of the bag either. “I wonder who got this. There’s no name on it. He’s adorable.”

Harry watched her as she rubbed her thumbs over the soft material of the plush, her eyes wide with joy and amazement. She had never seen something so cute before.

“Do you know who got this?” She glanced at him quickly.

“No, Niall brought it all in together.”

Ivy sighed, wishing she knew who the gift giver was. She wanted to thank them for blessing her with the pig. She decided to keep the teddy bear and the pig on the couch with her, politely asking Harry to put the candy and snack bags on the kitchen counter. He complied with her request and just smiled to himself as she mumbled about how much she liked the pig.

Later that night, Ivy was able to stand up on her own in the shower and take care of her basic need. Harry stood in the hallway just in case something happened to her. Once she was out, he went back to the kitchen so she could walk across the hall in the towel. She hated the feeling of drying off completely and getting dressed in the bathroom, the steam from the shower lurking in the air making her uncomfortable. So she carefully walked with her body wrapped up in a towel to her room.

Harry decided he’d work on dinner while she was doing her routine. She wanted something soft and easy on her stomach, so she requested macaroni and cheese. Harry found that somewhat amusing, that was all she wanted. But nevertheless, he agreed to making it for her.

There were no more deep conversations like the one they had earlier. She remained quiet and he kept to himself. She ate the food he made for her and watched the television until she was tired. Harry guided her down the hall and made sure she was in her bed before he went to get comfortable in his own makeshift bed. Ivy didn’t stay awake much longer, she was exhausted and ready to sleep.

When morning came, Ivy was way more confident in her walking. She realized that her legs felt much better and the pain from her sewn skin had gone down drastically. Everything was falling back in place, a sense of normality was slowly returning. She found Harry sitting at the kitchen table like he had spent most of the previous day doing. He closed his journal when he saw her come in.

“Sleep alright?” He asked, quickly noticing how swift her movements were . “You’re walking better, yeah?”

She nodded. “Slept good and yeah.. I feel so much better.”

“Well, that’s good. Niall called me earlier and said he’d let me know when they were heading back, should be around lunch.”

She licked her lips and let her eyes stroll over to the stove. “Okay. I’m kinda hungry.”

“What do you want?” He stood up, ready to do whatever she asked of him.

“I can try to do it.”

“You might as well use me while I’m here.” He chuckled very lightly. “Take advantage of my services.”

She thought about for a minute. He’s been washing the dishes he’s used for cooking. He’s cleaned up the kitchen, handled the garbage, done the little tasks she was so used to doing on her own. It was nice to have a break.

“You’re right.” She shrugged. “I just want some eggs.”

Their Sunday morning was much quieter than the Saturday had been. Like Niall estimated, it was a bit past lunch time when they arrived home. Emma practically ran inside to make sure Ivy was still alive and her and Harry hadn’t killed each other. She was relieved to see her on the couch, appearing much better off than when she left her. Emma demanded a full list of every moment from Harry. She had to ensure that he took well enough care of her. She was pleased to hear how everything went and how Harry made her walk around to gain her strength back.

Niall spoke to Ivy quietly on the couch, making sure that he got her side of the story. He was ready to pounce on Harry if he heard any negative comment that was made or any instance of attitude given. He was delighted to hear that Harry had behaved.

Not long after they arrived, Harry made his departure and Niall wasn’t far behind him. Emma made sure Ivy was comfortable before going to her room to unpack her bag. The crazy, unplanned weekend was finally over and everyone could get back to their normal lives. Before she forgot, though, she sent him a quick message that Sunday night.

Ivy: hey, just wanted to say thank you for staying with me. I really appreciate it.

Harry: you don’t have to thank me.

Ivy: but I’ll thank you anyway :)

She went to sleep shortly after that and when she woke up the next morning, she was surprised to see a message from him. He had sent it probably ten or so minutes after her last one, but by then she was passed out. Her heart skipped a beat as she read over the words. She was so stunned that she couldn’t come up with a response. How could something so simple suddenly mean the world to her?

Harry: you’re welcome. by the way.. I got you the pig. glad you like it.

[a/n: I’ve been waiting weeks for this update!! I hope you enjoy it.. the forced proximity is obviously very prominent in this part. things are shifting hehe see you soon!]

taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

@victoriasigaard

@ariiscringe

@harlowsgirl

@lomllover

@haniaaa04

@sideboobrry11

@tenaciousperfectionunknown

@fangirl509east

@fruity-harry

@sassamanda77

@lizsogolden

@prettygurl-2009

@sincerely-yours-marsbar

@boopookie

@mypolicemanharryyy

@angelbunny222

@mads3502

@harrysredroom

@inlikea-coolway

@matildasatellite

@imaginexxharry

@sassamanda77

41 notes · View notes

ramblingandpie · 4 hours ago

Text

[Image description: screencap of tags reading #so many thoughts about the notes here

#i'm just gonna say that the civil servants i know who are just trying

to make society work are often begging for more people to opine

#there are secure white people with nothing better to do who spend

all their time making their opinions heard

#just to feel alive

#i cant guarantee anything but i know there are people in

government who would want to help your voice be heard

#if only you knew who to speak to

#so start saying what it is you need to say to everybody you might

possibly need to say it to

#and get better at saying it #and make your thoughts known

#because there are people who your thoughts matter to

#yes even in a red state

#i don't in any way believe the way our government works is ideal but

you need to use the tools that are available to you to make life bette

#civil and otherwise.

End description.]

This particular civil servant would love if folks would use alt text.

And also, yes, please send in feedback. We want to know. We need to know. Sometimes I know something is An Problem but unless people complain I am not allocated resources to fix Yon Problemme. We literally keep binders of program feedback sorted by topic. We use them to make our plans and agendas of what to work on and where to allocate resources.

We care!! We want the program to go smoothly!! And! If you're like "oh but this is a minor problem" we may genuinely have no idea!! Typically, the people who are doing the regulatory work and procedure updates and such? Are NOT the frontline staff who sees "minor" problems. Like. I see the most messed up of claims where everything has gone wrong and while yes obviously those DO need to be addressed... I also am completely out of the loop on more minor issues unless someone tells me. And sometimes it's a really easy fix!!! Or it's something we can incorporate into something else we're working on!!! And I try to be proactive (like... if I'm working on an update for A Chonker Of A Problem, I try to reach out to people who deal even remotely with that problem and ask them to please tell me any and all issues they run into, because like... if I have to remake a form? I'd rather do it right????)

Anyway wow this has turned into a rant but yes there are definitely civil servants who care. Most of us, I reckon.

Strongly recommend calling your reps and freaking out on the phone, both as a self care practice and so they can know that their normally chill constituents are saying things like “I guess if I can’t teach kindergarten teachers to be nicer anymore I shall have to become a bonus army”

#civil service

542 notes · View notes

becoming-never-being · 17 hours ago

Text

“Leftist” security culture is dead-end. Organizations should post on all available platforms to show the masses that there are options outside of those presented by the bourgeois system. Study/workplace groups publicly posting is actually more important now that many people are looking for resistance outside of the Democrats. The author does go on to state that individuals shouldn’t be judged based on their social media postings and while that is true, that’s a point wholly disconnected from the “stupidity” of posting at all.

The liberal lets their hand slightly show by mentioning the “fire bombing Walmart” tweet. There probably exists some adventurist individuals who are making posts about shaming people for not committing custeristic acts, but that population is so small that I feel that this is an utter strawman of the actual positions being stated. Additionally, the hand is completely shown with the mention of the satire article going around. That’s what’s really got OP mad, everything else here is just fluff. This whole thing is a clear reaction to the asks of activists to do something (which is extra funny because the author then makes individual judgements based on posting to declare these activists as online-only). The author goes on to say there are people making “small acts”, but small acts in disorganized manners are politically ineffective, they are nice, sure, but if the concern for millions of people is that the system is either slowly or rapidly killing us then collective action that rises to the level of importance must be taken. I also have no clue what the small actions being taken are because 1) they are not propagandized such that I and other people can see and know to replicate it 2) the author does not bother to list them so small acts can probably range from ActBlue donations to office work sabotage

No, tumblr user, you can’t just slap on a mention of “a climate like this” with no additional context and think that makes the preceding statement correct. Joy is not in of itself an act of resistance. One can combine joy and acts of resistance, but one’s joy is not an act of resistance. Resistance must be something that materially slows or stops the mechanisms of oppression. Facing off against cops is not joyful, it is stressful and sometimes painful when they decide to pin you to the ground for speaking in a megaphone. Collaboration with the bourgeoisie can bring great joy in the form of material comfort and protection, but that is an act opposed to resistance. Actions that increase in scale are significantly less about the joy of individuals, but about improving material conditions such that we no longer exist in the bourgeois political system that produces “a climate like this”

#I thought about rbing it #but decided this is more of a rant than anything

38 notes · View notes

random-blurbs · 3 days ago

Text

A/N: How do yall want me to write Mark?? Kindaaa want to make him possessive lowkey but slowburnish does this make sense? Suggestions please?

<<<prologue part 2>>>

Groaning you propped yourself up on the plush bed the throbbing pain of your head never truly going away.

It’s been weeks since you’ve been here at least you can only assume with the help of the ticking clock. It reminds you of the room you were formally in just more prison like somehow.

Somehow?

You scoffed as you pressed your hand on your upper neck feeling something just underneath your skin. “Don’t mess with it too much or it can go off.” You barely acknowledged the man in the corner as you huddled into your body. “You promised Mark you would let me out, to help me remember.”

“And we tried Y/N you don’t understand how sensitive this is.” He tried explaining; both of you being broken records as this went on annoyingly long everyday. “Then let me live my life! I won’t do anything I just want normalcy Cecile. That’s it.” You begged as the bruises on your body bloomed. You don’t know why they’re giving you little information about who you are as a person. Rather performing invasive procedures to try getting it bad as apparently it’s more safer, and they can pick and choose what memories you’re given.

But nothing works. You are a blank slate of human being.

“Look kid we really tried and I’m sorry. We don’t know if you’ll get your memories back but we do need you.” He confessed as he took closer steps towards your bed. You made no effort to even try pushing him away. You already knew fighting against them will get you knocked out. Pricked and prodded. You will feel the pain all over again.

You just wanted your parents. You must’ve had parents. You just wanted them to get you out of here already.

“But if you can work for me there’s no more pain. We can take care of you, you can live your life as normal as you can.” You already know it’s too good to be true. He knows that you know.

“But you have to be willing to drop everything to help us.” Shaking your head you tried thinking more about your options. Your very limited options. It was stupid. So stupid. As you thought about your options you wish you had his help. You barely knew the guy. But he had told you he was going to help you.

You should’ve known better to trust a guy you had just met. What were you thinking? You refuse to admit to yourself that you did give in to his looks. Who can blame you really?

“But besides that I can live my life? You won’t be surveilling me 24/7?” You asked which he nodded his head to. “None of that if you’re ok with me popping by to alert you.”

Sighing you leaned your head back realizing what needs to happen. You’re going insane here. You can’t stay here for any longer hoping that Mark will pass by to help you with your memories. You need to find those who you love. “Fine. Whatever I just need to get out.” You finally said as you imagined your life. What it even was.

You barely had a moment to yourself into you fell forward feeling like you were dragged in. Yelping you put your hands up as you crashed into the floor with a loud thud. Somehow you did that with carpet.

Carpet?

Quickly looking up you spun around seeing an unfamiliar room. 2 beds one fully side fully decorated while the side you’re on barely having anything. “This is your dorm room we made sure it was still available to you after we figured everything out.” You took in your room that you could’ve had from the beginning. You could’ve made a friend potentially with the girl next to you. But what’s the point of being angry.

“Thank you…” He gave you an awkward tight lipped smile as he motioned towards the boxes on your bed. “These were here before we found you. We didn’t want to move anything either.” Taking a closer look at the boxes it looked like you went through them as things were sprawled out all over.

Maybe this could help you. “Thank you Cecil. And I’m sorry for y’know-.” Doing the motion of your hand squishing him he waved it off with a shake of his head. “We both messed up. Clean slate now so let’s not regret it.” Agreeing with him he said his goodbye making you stumble back as he teleported away.

“What the fuck…” In awe on how quick it was you realized that’s what probably made you face plant onto the ground. He didn’t face plant tho…

Digging through your boxes you took out different pieces of your personality. Some posters, books, ornaments that are supposed to be you. But it doesn’t feel like you. Biting your lip as you tried to calm the tears that pricked at your eyes it was getting so hard. Fanning your face to calm your nerves you saw a sticky note in the far right corner. Reaching out to it you’re surprised to realize it was a phone.

Need this to communicate so far only my number is in it

“Dammit.” So this has nothing to help you. A fresh new phone with nothing about you. Your head shot up towards the door as you hear the doorknob move. “We actually have to study or I’m kicking you guys out.” Excited to hear a new voice you panicked as you tried making yourself look busy.

“Oh!” Looking up you see 3 people standing there confused to see you. What the-?

You didn’t recognize the 2 people standing there. But him.

He seems stunned to see you. That you were here alive and breathing.

“Oh sorry I was surprised to see you since it’s been a month since the semester started.” The girl in-front said as she took a step closer putting her hand out. “My name is Amber I guess we’re going to be roommates for the year.” Quickly shaking her hand you smiled at her. Hoping to make a friend to help you feel like you belong here. “Yeah um my name is Y/N, sorry for the late notice.” You motioned to your blank side compared to her side filled with life. “It’s ok! I’m glad I finally get a roommate I’ve been wanting someone here so I can complain to about my classes.” You giggled at her comment as you don’t really know what to expect when you start your classes. But it’s an exciting feeling to start.

“What’s your major we might have some classes together if you’re a freshman?” For the first time during your conversation you paused. It was going so normal.

“O-oh my major?” You tried racking your brain through it until you realized once again. This was another thing taken from you. Something so small.

“Oh are you undecided?” Someone chimed in as you saw a pale looking guy with brown hair taking a place next to Amber. Were you?

“Um yeah I am! Still so much I want to do.” You explained as they agreed with what you just said.

But somehow he saw it. The awkward smile you had given them was laced with a pain he knew was familiar to you. As he realized you were still in the dark. Cecil couldn’t help you.

“Um actually I gotta head out. So enjoy studying!” You didn’t really let them respond as you nudged past Mark just needing to get out.

You felt the familiar disappointment rise in your body as you can’t help but be reminded that you’re incomplete. You can’t function normally you don’t even know what you’re doing. Do you actually even belong in this University? Only knowing bits of what happened to you. You knew you were saved from a massacre. But which one was it? They wouldn’t tell you. They would’ve told you if it was family wouldn’t they? All these doubts and thoughts were going to split your head open.

“Y/N!” Turning around you see Mark trying to catch up to you as you rolled your eyes. You didn’t need this right now.

You sped up as you turned the corner as you hear him yell out your name again. He was confused as he didn’t want to full on run after you making a suspicious scene happen.

But you weren’t letting up as you walked out the dorm building feeling the cold air hit you. And it had just hit you. It’s been awhile since you’ve felt the outside air like this. A bitter scoff left your lips as you hear the door open again. And there he stood. The boy who told you he was going to help.

You didn’t realize how much this bitterness ran as you couldn’t help hide the anger in your face. This seemed to deter him as you see his happy face fall. “Y/N… I’m glad they let you out.” You didn’t say anything as you took a seat on the benches infront of the dorm buildings. He saw it. The anger you have for only him. The anger you had when you were in room. You were looking at him as if he was everyone else. And he truly didn’t enjoy it.

“I’m sorry for not being ther-.” You put your hand up signaling him to stop which he immediately did. Not wanting to lower his chances forming a connection between you two. “Please don’t apologize. You weren’t there, that’s it. I can’t be angry at you I don’t even know you.” How curt you were with him left him uncomfortable as he saw how capable you were of having happiness. When your bright smile took over your face making people want to mirror you back. He smile back when he saw it in the room.

“I want to apologize. I told you I was going to help you but Cecil threw me on all these missions out of nowhere!” His reasons still hurt. Nothing will take away the hurt as you were strapped to a hospital bed as you thrashed around trying to get away from the pain.

“Dammit.” You felt the tears prick your eyes as you turned away from him. But with superhuman speed he was sitting right next to you concerned as he sees your hand tighten around each other. “I’m really sorry Y/N. Even if we don’t know each other I still made you rely on me when you had nobody.” As the words spilled from his mouth he fully started to realize the damage he caused. It wasn’t his obligation. But he stilled lulled you into believing you were safe. But as he sees the bruises that are blooming, peeking from your turtleneck. He realized how much he left you with.

He needed to talk to Cecile.

“You don’t owe me anything Mark.” You can’t help being blunt towards him. Everything he says will practically fall to deaf ears as you can’t handle the disappointment again. Can’t handle waiting for him expectantly. Looking like some lost kid waiting to be helped. You won’t feel like that again your body can’t take it.

“I want to be there for you.” You shake your head at his words. “I don’t think your girlfriend would be happy hearing that.” You said as you tried pushing him away as he leaned away from you remembering he left Amber and William. They would understand? It’s not like he finds you attractive and he’s doing this totally out of the goodness of his heart. That’s what he’s rationalizing it as. You were scared and you relied on him he plans on sticking with his word.

“You don’t remember anything from being on campus?” He asked as you groaned in annoyance as he continued. He wasn’t planning to leave even though he knows how annoying he looks. He knows he should leave. But the guilt is eating at him. And you know that’s the reason he’s staying. “I don’t remember anything. Obviously I was supposed to go here but…” Your time was cut short by that massacre. You refuse to believe you were saved from it. How were you the only one who lived.

“Maybe you took a tour or checked out the places around here? Do you want to give it a try?” You quickly shut down the idea making him deflate seeing his eyebrows furrow as he tried thinking of something new. You brought your knees up to your chest. Leaning your head on it looking at him as you see him deep in thought.

You hear him mumble to himself as you heart started to calm. The tears that sneakily got out began to dry as you just took in his appearance. “Does your girlfriend know you’re a superhero?” You asked as you remember how you now live with her. Not wanting to slip up and actually reveal something life changing. He seemed surprised by your question before rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “No she doesn’t, so if you can?”

“Don’t worry I wasn’t planning on it. That would be petty of me.” You muttered locking eyes with him. It became calm as he took in your features. You weren’t the scared girl he faced. He saw how tired your eyes looked with a sad smile matching with it. And somehow you pulled him in. He wanted to know you more and disguise it as help. Was it selfish? You needed a friend.

“What if I keep you company during your time here?” Perking up at his suggestion you were confused by what that entails. He saw the curiosity in your eyes as that encouraged him further. “Yeah I’ll just show you around campus all the good spots until you get your friends and stuff. So it doesn’t feel that lonely.” He reasoned as the proposition seemed more tempting as he explained. It would no doubt be lonely for a bit. Especially if you have little breakdowns of not remembering. But Mark knows of your lack of memory so you wouldn’t have to worry too much. It seemed too good.

“How do I know you won’t flake on me?” You ask still doubtful not wanting to agree to Mark’s empty promises. Internally wincing at the jab he still stood his ground confident in what he wanted to give you.

“I’ll take you right now then.” He said with confidence as he stood up offering you his hand. You let your hand fall into his as he helped you up. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll take you to this coffee shop. Everyone goes there so you would want to know it since it’s also a really good studying place.” He explained as he pointed off to the distance, which also would be a potential place to meet friends. “I might get a meet-cute there.” You wistfully say not remembering how you really were with guys. Did you even have a boyfriend?

“A meet-cute?”

“Yeah like meeting my future husband.” You said shrugging your shoulders as that’s an iconic place that all the rom-coms did it at.

All the rom-cons?

“Oh shit.” Before Mark could finish his very non-wanted imagination of helping you meet your husband he turned to see you with a bright smile. You were grinning, looking up at him that he swears your eyes were twinkling. “I remembered something!” It was surprising to yourself as Mark hugged you in response happy for you. Scarier to yourself as you reciprocated back holding him as well. “That’s amazing! See it’s possible!” He didn’t think on how this can be seen to anyone else. Except he was genuinely happy for you, glad that it’s possible. Glad that you can get a chance to live your life normally.

The thought made you want to cry as you thought about the potential. Pulling away from the warmth of his body as you realized how freezing it really is. “It’s something so little…” You said embarrassingly as you registered how you practically threw yourself on him. “No Y/N this is great! If you want you can always tell me about them even if they’re small. If you want obviously.” He emphasized making you giggle, seeing how careful he is with overstepping your boundaries. “Thank you, I’ll try not to bother you too much.” Officially taking his offer making him grin.

“Oh you’re probably cold! Do you want to head to the coffee shop now?” Hesitating as you didn’t realize he was being serious your eyes went between him and the dorm doors. You really want to go to the coffee shop. Maybe you can remember your coffee order or something. If you ever went with friends?

“I don’t know…aren’t you supposed to be studying right now.” You slightly teased as the realization hit Mark. And it hit him hard. Trying to hide his surprise he was bouncing between two options. He has a smart amazing girlfriend waiting for him to help him with his missed homework assignments. And here he has you.

You are right there waiting for him.

He just wants to help.

“It’s ok we can bring them back drinks. It’ll give me energy to study harder.” He said truthfully. He needs the energy considering earlier he saved a plane from crashing since monsters love to attach themselves to it for some reason. “We should go quickly then so we can give it to them.” You pulled at his arm sleeve walking towards the direction he pointed at prior. He slowly followed you as he debated on asking you what he wanted. He looked around noticing that nobody was out surprisingly and no cameras. It’s like the world was on his side. “What if we fly? It’ll be faster?” Turning back to him you looked at him excitedly as he matched your energy right back. “We won’t get in trouble?” You didn’t want Cecil to suddenly appear in front of you and take you back to that prison. You truly wanted to stay in your lane and not mess anything up.

Letting out an excited yell you wrapped your hands around Mark’s neck as you felt him pick you up. You feel his arms tightly hold your body close to his chest as you just held on tighter. Surprised by his quick actions your body flushed with excitement, he looked down at you with a soft smile as he saw you try to warm yourself. “Just hold tight, I’ll keep you safe.” He wouldn’t have a choice so you happily nod your head at his words. Happy that you found someone you can trust.

———-

“Even if I don’t remember my order, I think the matcha tastes pretty good.” You see the disgusted face that Mark made making you nudge him playfully. Pointing at his drink you shake your head, “What’s the point of getting coffee if you add so much vanilla.” You judged as he acted hurt by your words making you both chuckle down the hall.

Doing the awkward panic pat down as you got closer to your door. You don’t question how Cecile somehow got the keys into your pocket. Should you even question anything anymore?

Opening the door you see the two studying heads zip up making you feel a little awkward. You see them trying to gouge out what happened between you two as obviously they wouldn’t know how you two even met. “We got some drinks for you guys!” Mark boasted happily as he naturally gave the drinks to them, shutting the door behind you. It felt weird being in the same room as them. Offering them a small smile you turned to your side making yourself busy.

“The both of you guys went?” You hear Amber ask as you tried not to look over. Emptying your boxes you hear the hushed whispers between the two. Seeing in the corner of your eye you see the brown haired boy looking over concerned your seeing the two probably talk about you.

Great.

“I think we should study another time.” Amber finally said out loud making you wince hearing some annoyance in her tone. You spared Mark an apologetic glance which he quickly shook his head not wanting you to feel bad. “Bye Y/N it was nice meeting you for like half a second.” Seeing it was the other friend you gave him a tight-lipped smile as Amber rushed them out, following right behind them. You hear arguing behind the door making you move around the room so you don’t accidentally eavesdrop. This is the least you can do for them.

Not wanting to be obvious of their interaction you didn’t turn towards the door as you hear Amber sigh when she walks in. You were setting up your posters, who you now remember as romance characters you adored. Wanting a love just like theirs. “Y/N how do you know Mark?”

Why is that question so scary.

It shouldn’t be. Yet it is.

Turning around slowly you see her at the edge of bed her expression unreadable. “What do you mean?” Her foot tapped excessively as she looked directly at you. Maybe wanting to see if you would lie. “I find it weird how Mark never mentioned you. But it seems like you know each other.” She said a matter-of-factly as she her eyes didn’t waver. “And he tells me he can’t tell me so what am I supposed to think?” She confessed as start to even feel worse about your interactions with him. You never would’ve pursued anything since you knew he was in a relationship. Roommate or not. “I told him not to tell anyone.” You lie.

You don’t want to. But you don’t want her anger to be directed towards Mark, he was just put in a terrible position. “I knew him from awhile back, and it’s just been awhile.” She didn’t seem to believe you making you panic. He left his girlfriend and friend to go after some girl he hasn’t seen in awhile. That sounds terrible jeez.

“My parents were going through something…and I relied on him.” You confess not knowing if you parents were actually a picture perfect family. “I don’t know I was embarrassed if anybody else knew. But he’s the only one who made me feel normal when my life was going to hell.” You swallowed the ball of nerves down as you see her start to look at you in a different light. Glad you weren’t starting anything in their relationship she had to worry about. “But I know now he has a girlfriend so I don’t plan on contacting him in regard to that anymore. So I’m sorry if I made you think there was something.” You finished as you can see Amber trying to find the right words to the story you spun. Somehow out of everything you said the only truth was with Mark. He made you feel normal. Like you have a right to be in their world. And you wanted to be so bad.

“I’m sorry.” Stunned that you heard an apology you looked at her in disbelief as she grabbed your hands confusing you further. “I’m sorry if I looked like some control freak, I’m not you get it-.” Shaking your head furiously you made sure she knew you got what she was trying to say. “But no. Mark is your friend as much as he’s my boyfriend. It was just so secretive and ugh!” Flopping back onto her bed she let her arm fall over her eyes as you see her have an internal battle with herself. “I shouldn’t have doubted that.”

“You have every right to doubt me Amber. I’m a random roommate that popped up after a month of enrollment. I would think you hate Mark if you don’t doubt anything.” You tell her trying to ease her doubts of looking obsessive which she chuckled at. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth. You wish you can tell her the full truth as you see her give you a grateful smile but this is enough. Maybe one day when you get closer you can have her help you find the truth.

“Thank you. It sounds nice that I don’t sound crazy.” She confides which makes you chuckle. “So continue talking to him I don’t want to take away your friend. But if you ever need a girlfriend I’m here.”

A girlfriend?

The idea had you jumping in joy. Normalcy. It’s so close.

“I’ll probably take you on that offer I feel like I might need some girl talk. But it’s ok about Mark either way I don’t have his number anymore-.”

She quickly got up putting her hand out towards you. You looked at her confused as she saw your phone beside you. Grabbing it she started to click away. “You need to put a password on this. But here!” Handing your phone back you see she had it open on contacts. Seeing her name, and Mark’s.

“You can text me whenever you wanna hang out, if living with me isn’t enough.” Biting the inside of your cheek you knew you missed this. But finally receiving it after the torture you practically went through at your prison. You were grateful. You don’t know what you did to deserve anything that happened to you. But you’re glad that they’re making it easier. You didn’t know what else to tell her besides thank you, which she smiled happily at.

—————————-

“Holy shit!” Scared out of your mind you see the balding man in front of you, surprised by his sudden appearance. “Am I ever going to get used to that.” He shrugged his shoulders as he took in the surroundings. It was a nice sunny day after you finished your first class of the day. Finding your class schedule in the notes app alongside with some passwords. It was pretty easy but everyone around you had already made their own cliques. It would be awkward going up to anyone right now. Not wanting to be hunged up on it you settled yourself in a beautiful patch of grass with a perfect amount of shade. Wanting to bathe in the sun as much as you can after the month without it. It felt weird at first but you came to love it. “Mark not with you?”

“Why would he be?” You ask genuinely considering Cecile must know everything about everyone. That’s something else you remember. That the government somehow knows everything Cecile being no exception. “He came to talk to me earlier. Wanted you to be out of the field.” Biting your lip you nodded your head at his words not wanting to show your surprise. Why the hell would he go to Cecile? What else did he say?

“Y/N!” You both turn your head seeing Mark out of breath running towards you. Was he running prior? He quickly jogged up to you both eyeing Cecile in the side. Which he rolled his eyes at. “I’m not doing anything villainous Mark. I’m just here to let her know to get suited up with Art later today. She’s going to need to help us eventually.” It was obvious that Mark wanted to throw something in but you gave him a pleading glance which immediately made him back down. Even though he really wished he didn’t. “I just wanted to check in on how you were doing. If there’s anything you need.” Trying to remember if there’s anything missing from yesterday’s day. “Oh! Is there anyway I can get money? Did I have anything or?” Recalling on yesterday’s coffee hangout Mark had to pay as you embarrassingly patted yourself down for a wallet. He was more than willing but still.

“Damn that’s what we were missing.” Digging through his suit he pulled out a leather wallet before pulling out a black card. “Take this for now we’ll set you up eventually with your old stuff just need to fix some stuff.” You absolutely did not want to take that out of his hand. What the hell.

“Is that your card?”

“What no! It’s technically the governments…” He somewhat mumbled as you looked at him with disbelief. “What I didn’t get that!” Mark complained as he was right next to you making Cecile glare at him. “It’s not going to be hers it’s just a placeholder.” Wanting them to stop arguing you grabbed the card shoving it in your pocket. You don’t want to think about the logistics of it. Government card are you kidding?

“Ok I’ll go to Arc or whatever just drop it. And thank you.” You quickly added as you plopped yourself back into your original spot. Drained from the small interaction. He sighed at Mark which was obvious that annoyed him but gave you a respectful nod before teleporting off. “What did I do!” Laughing at his genuine annoyance you pat the empty plot of grass next to you. Complying he sat down with a big sigh as he leaned against the tree. Even though his body looks relaxed his face says otherwise. “Did something happen with Amber?” You ask hoping he can confide in you as you are with him.

“What?”

“You look stressed so I’m assuming something happened sorry…” Thinking you crossed the line he quickly sat up as he shot down the apology. “No it’s not about her. She was happy with me which I’m assuming you helped with?” He said with a small smile as you replicated his. “I just didn’t want you to get in trouble for helping me.” You explain hoping he wasn’t mad at the lies you told his girlfriend. Thankfully he seemed grateful, for one less thing to stress about. “I appreciate it tho.” Happy that everyone was in a good place you leaned back into the tree which he copied. “Did you want to talk about it?” Carefully asking hoping it doesn’t seem like you’re prodding. “U-um it’s just a lot.” He tried dodging which you didn’t mind. Not wanting to force anything.

“Did you wanna hang out then?” You had one more class but he didn’t need to know that. “You don’t have more classes?” Dammit.

“Nope.” Suspiciously eyeing you he refused to believe your old self would schedule yourself for only one class in a day. Pursing your lips you continued to wait there as Mark tried gouging anything. “Fine. Let’s go somewhere.” Springing himself up he helped you with your bag as you tried to think of what can cheer him up. Movies gives you no chance to talk, coffee shop already happened, what would he like?

“Is there an arcade around here…my treat!” With an excited laugh you pulled out the black card given to you just moments ago. It seemed to bring back the joy in Mark’s eyes as a mischievous smirk graced his lips. Cecile will truly regret not giving him one. “There’s one not too far if you’re ok with walking? Maybe your memory will trigger something?” Agreeing as you didn’t even think about that as he pulled out his phone finding the directions for it. He motioned for you to follow which you closely did, feeling the sun hit you now. It’s such perfect weather you can’t help but grin. “Are you that happy with the sun?” Mark asked with a grin as he sees the sun help you tenfold. Brightening everything about you, it’s unfair how much the sun likes you.

“Of course! I really think it was my favorite type of weather.” Maybe it was actually because that month in that prison is something you never want to go through again. You probably took for granted the sun but now you definitely won’t. “Yours? You kinda seem like a snow type of guy.” He gives you a questioning look as you comforted him that it wasn’t an insult. “Sunny weather definitely.” You give him a doubtful look as he swore that he didn’t take your answer. You really swore it could be that or rain.

“Also if you’re ok with helping me? Can you take me to Arc’s later? I’m not too sure how to get there.” He laughed as he saw you just realize you knew nothing what Cecile was trying to tell you. “What were you going to do if I wasn’t there?”

“I think you would’ve shown up eventually. You did promise me to help.” You say gratefully in response to Mark’s teasing. “You’re not wrong.” You don’t know how to feel as you’re slowly starting to see the amount of help Mark is trying to provide. You’re grateful but you don’t want to take advantage of this kindness. “If it’s alright with you I can help you train so you know what to expect? Or if you rather do that in the GDA?” Only needed a moment to choose between the two you thanked Mark again never feeling like enough as he came through once again for you. “Can I fight with you next time!?” He was amused by your exhilarated reaction to the idea of fighting side by side. But the idea of you being introduced to a whole new world of people… he’s not too thrilled about that. Was this opening too much to you at a time. He was somehow stressing himself out with this.

“You don’t have to say yes it was somewhat a joke.” You said dejectedly not knowing the emotional turmoil he was just going through - you took his stressed face as a no. “W-wait no-.” He swears he sees your body melting into the floor in embarrassment as he felt 10x worse as he really tried fixing his wording, too many words swirling through his head. “Of course I want you by my side!”

“Mark!”

“N-not like that obviously! You can fight!” You both turned away from one another burning hot with embarrassment as the conversation sounded insane to everybody who hear. Not wanting to be the first to break the awkward silence that took over you both. You can’t be too mad as you’re happy with Mark just having your back and making up for his ‘mistake’.

Even though you accept the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it and you’re just grateful he’s here. Hoping to make it up to him eventually.

#writing #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible x reader #invincible show

32 notes · View notes

charliedaltonswife · 18 hours ago

Note

could we maybe get a part two to “an education in loathing….?” the sizzling tension, the hatred, the quippy remarks OOOO i loved it. maybe the two get assigned as partners for a project (or something??? idk??) and a late night argument finally boils over into something smutty…if you feel comfortable writing that….

An Education in Loathing - Pt 2

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

soooo, went overboard with this one, high word count, um gets heated....

Summary: read the request

Warnings: far from none. S.M.U.T. do with that what you will

master list found here

You begged, as in got down on your knees and hands clutching together in prayer type begged, for anyone in the group to switch with you in this stupid project. But to no avail.

You should have seen it coming. The way the universe seemed to take particular delight in your suffering, in orchestrating your life like a Greek tragedy, the fates snipping their shears with barely concealed amusement. Of course it had to be Henry.

Julian had announced the project with a kind of airy indifference, as if he weren’t about to ruin your entire semester. A “joint exploration of classical interpretations,” he had called it, pairing each of you off with someone to work through the assignment together. A “reward,” he had added, as if being shackled to Henry Winter for the foreseeable future was anything short of divine punishment.

Now, here you were, sitting across from him in the library’s dim back corner, trying not to succumb to the overwhelming urge to either strangle him or fling yourself dramatically out of the nearest window.

Henry, of course, looked perfectly unbothered. His long fingers turned a page of De Anima with excruciating slowness, his expression unreadable. The lamplight cast deep shadows across his face, sharpening the angles of his cheekbones, his jaw. He looked like some archaic statue came to life, some smug, superior deity sent to torment you.

“I suppose we should begin,” you said, barely keeping the venom from your voice.

Henry didn’t even glance up. “By all means.”

Your nails dug into the paper in front of you. “Well, seeing as you have no original thoughts of your own, why don’t you start by parroting whatever Julian has spoon-fed you on the subject?”

He made a quiet, amused sound, finally lifting his gaze. “Charming,” he murmured, setting the book down. “I see you’ve elected to be insufferable tonight.”

“You bring out the best in me.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You gritted your teeth, trying not to let him see the way he got under your skin. If you let him have that, you’d already lost.

“We could always divide the work,” you said, feigning a pleasant tone. “That way, I don’t have to suffer through your droning monologues, and you don’t have to endure my… how did you put it last time? ‘Exhausting need to contradict everything you say’?”

Henry leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, utterly at ease. “No,” he said simply.

You blinked. “No?”

“I don’t trust you to do it properly.”

You let out a sharp breath of laughter. “Oh, I’m the one who can’t do it properly?”

“Yes.”

You wanted to throw something at him. Preferably something heavy. “And why, exactly, is that?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering. “You’re impulsive.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’re a condescending bastard, but we all have our flaws, don’t we?”

His mouth twitched. “The difference is that I’m right.”

“Oh, you are so-” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply through your nose. You refused to let him rile you up this early. You had to pace yourself. If you let the irritation take over now, you’d never survive the night.

Instead, you took a slow sip of your coffee, schooling your expression into one of disinterest. “Fine,” you said at last. “Since you’re clearly too much of a control freak to work separately, we’ll suffer through this together. But I swear to God, Henry, if you correct me one more time on things I already know-”

“You’ll what?” His voice was almost amused.

You leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into something slow and deliberate. “I’ll smother you in your sleep and burn all of your books.”

Henry regarded you for a moment, gaze flickering over your face, before he exhaled a quiet laugh. “It’s adorable that you think you could.”

You stared at him, and there was something taut in the air between you, something sharp and charged. You could feel it, a tension neither of you wanted to acknowledge but both of you were utterly ensnared by.

Finally, you forced yourself to look away, reaching for your pen with more force than necessary. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Henry smirked, but he, too, returned to the task at hand.

The problem with Henry Winter, you had learned, was not simply that he was insufferable. It was that he was insufferable with such careful precision, such cruel artistry, that you sometimes suspected he did it on purpose, the way a cat will toy with a half-dead bird. That he liked needling you, watching the slow build of frustration, the way you burned under his gaze.

However, you found yourself in his apartment, not exactly what you’d expected; cold, austere, and far too tidy. Books lined the walls in obsessive, precise order, not a single one askew. A small fireplace, unlit, and the smell of something faintly metallic in the air, like old paper and ink.

You had known from the start this was a mistake.

“You could at least pretend to be a gracious host,” you muttered, dropping your bag onto the armchair nearest to the desk. “It wouldn’t kill you.”

Henry didn’t glance up from where he was pouring over a text, one hand idly at his temple. “I didn’t invite you here for pleasantries.”

You scoffed, taking a seat opposite him. “No, you invited me here because Julian gave us this absurd assignment, and unfortunately, you are stuck with me.”

“I wouldn’t say it's unfortunate.” His voice was mild, but there was something in it, something you didn’t trust.

You ignored it. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He hummed, leaning back slightly. “You’re in a mood.”

“You put me in a mood,” you retorted, flipping open your notes. “Now, are we discussing the comparative mythology of Orpheus, or are we going to sit here and psychoanalyze my temperament?”

Henry exhaled sharply through his nose, his version of a laugh. “The former, obviously.” He turned a page. “Though your temperament is certainly interesting.”

You gave him a sharp look. “Don’t.”

He smirked, and you hated how he did it, so subtle, so knowing. Like he had already won. “As you wish.”

For a while, you managed to focus. Or at least, you tried to. But Henry had a way of getting under your skin, his presence coiling around your thoughts like smoke, making it impossible to concentrate. And of course, he was unbearable, correcting your phrasing, sighing pointedly whenever you said something he found lacking.

Eventually, the digs began. As they always did. Thank the lords the group wasn't present, although they found your banter amusing, often when it got too far they were the ones having to break you two up and sometimes being caught in the crossfire.

“That’s not the primary interpretation of the myth,” Henry murmured, flipping a page, barely looking at you.

You grit your teeth. “It’s an interpretation.”

“A weak one.”

“Oh, I see. And you’re the sole arbiter of intellectual strength, is that it?”

Henry glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to.” You set your pen down with a sharp tap. “You think so.”

There was a pause. “You always assume the worst of me.”

You scoffed. “Because the worst is usually true.”

“Is that what you think?”

“I don’t think it, Henry. I know it.” You leaned forward. “You like feeling superior. It’s why you go after people the way you do, why you can’t just have a discussion, you have to dismantle. I’d almost admire it, if it weren’t so-” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Pathetic.”

For the first time that evening, his expression shifted.

And then, to your horror, he smiled.

Slowly, purposefully, he shut the book in front of him, his fingers resting lightly against the worn cover. “That’s an awfully emotional response for someone who claims not to care what I think.”

Your pulse quickened. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t have to,” he said, voice low. “You do it for me.”

There was something wrong with the air in the room. It had thickened, become charged. You suddenly felt too warm.

Henry stood, moving past you toward the bookshelf, running his fingers idly over the spines of the texts, the firelight casting sharp shadows along his jaw. “You hate me,” he mused, his back still turned. “And yet here you are.”

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It’s an assignment.”

He turned.

It was something in his posture, the slow way he leaned back against the shelf, arms crossed, head tilting slightly. The smirk that wasn’t quite a smirk.

“Of course,” he murmured. Something about the way he was watching you made your stomach tighten.

“Stop that,” you said, voice coming out sharper than you intended.

“Stop what?”

“Whatever this is. The-” You gestured vaguely. “You’re being weird.”

“You’re imagining things again, we’ve talked about this darling, you must stop doing that” Henry said smoothly, pushing off from the shelf. You looked forward, only hearing his steps approach you as he rounded the table to stand behind you.

You meant to say something cutting, to brush him off, but then, his hand. Light. Barely touching the inside of your wrist as he moved to lean over you.

The contrast was startling. His words, his voice, the sharp precision of his arguments, and then, this.

It was like a game.

And worse, you were losing.

“Careful,” you murmured, echoing the warning you had given him before.

Henry, leaning so his lips were ever so close to your ear. “Am I making you nervous?”

You inhaled sharply, your eyes blinked a few times before you turned your head slightly to be eye to eye with him. You were so close it felt suffocating. “You wish.”

You suddenly pulled the chair out from under you, the back of it forcing Henry to step back. You quickly move to the middle of the room, facing him and strangely out of breath. You didn’t want the distance for a reason unbeknownst to you, but if you were that close to him anymore you were going to combust.

He hummed, as he moved closer, boxing you in. Slowly, so you barely noticed it was happening. Until your back was nearly to the bookshelf, and Henry was in front of you, his presence filling every inch of space between you.

It wasn’t quite touching. But it was close.

“You like to think you know me,” he said, his voice lower now, almost conversational, like he was considering something carefully. His fingers skimmed the edge of your sleeve, so light you almost didn’t feel it. “But you don’t.”

You swallowed. “And you like to think you’re unknowable.”

Henry’s lips twitched, but his eyes darkened. “Maybe.”

There was something in the way he was looking at you, something electric, a live wire strung too tightly. Your pulse was an insistent, frantic thing against your ribs.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure if it was a warning or an invitation.

Henry leaned in just slightly, the heat of him inches from your skin, his breath warm against your jaw.

“So are you.”

You should have left the moment you realized what he was doing. Should have made some scathing remark, put him in his place, turned on your heel and walked out. But instead, you stayed. And Henry knew it.

You could see it in the way his eyes gleamed, dark and knowing, in the small curve of his mouth that wasn’t quite a smirk but something worse, something more dangerous.

"You always run your mouth, don’t you?" His voice was quiet, almost amused, but there was something sharper beneath it, a blade hidden in silk. “So much conviction. So much certainty.”

You exhaled sharply, trying to push past him, but he didn’t move. He only shifted, subtly, deliberately, blocking your escape with the sort of ease that made you realize he’d been planning this, had anticipated every move, every reaction. Your back pressed against the bookshelf, the sharp corners of the wood digging into your shoulder blades. Henry leaned in.

"Tell me, do you ever stop talking long enough to listen?" he murmured, and his breath was warm against your ear, a stark contrast to the razor edge of his words.

You breathed hard, threw your nose, letting your chest rise and fall. "Get out of my way, Henry."

His hand lifted, light, barely there, trailing just along the side of your throat, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin beneath your jaw.

"You don’t want that," he whispered.

You did.

But he was so close now, his body a careful, practiced cage around yours. His cologne, something dark and expensive, filled your lungs.

“I think you like this.” His voice was a murmur now, a secret only for you. "I think you like fighting with me. Like how I make you feel.”

You swallowed hard. “You’re delusional.”

Henry exhaled a quiet laugh, tipping his head slightly, close enough that you could feel his lips brush the shell of your ear.

“You know what I think?” he whispered.

You refused to answer.

“I think,” he continued, voice silken, “that you like the way I get under your skin. I think you wake up in the middle of the night replaying our arguments, rehearsing all the things you should have said." His fingers drifted lower, a ghost of a touch along the inside of your wrist. "I think it keeps you up.”

Your heart was hammering against your ribs, your breath uneven. You didn’t answer, but Henry wasn’t expecting you to. He tilted his head, considering you.

“I wonder,” he mused, his fingers slipping down to the curve of your waist, tracing over the fabric of your sweater, "if you even hate me as much as you pretend to."

Your skin burned under his touch, and you gritted your teeth, furious, at him, at yourself, at the way your body betrayed you.

“Henry,” you said, a very empty warning, hating how unsteady your voice was.

He only leaned in closer, his lips barely an inch from yours now, his breath warm, steady, unrushed.

"Why?" he murmured, his fingers tightening ever so slightly at your hip. “Afraid you’ll like it?”

Your nails dug into your palms. “You,”

Henry lifted a single brow, waiting.

You wanted to slap him or maybe you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kick yourself for wanting both.

His fingers trailed up your spine, slow, deliberate. He pressed in closer, his body a whisper against yours, the heat of him making your knees weak.

And then, just as you thought he might close the distance, might press his lips to yours, might finally shatter whatever had been simmering between you for months, he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in, let his mouth hover just beside yours, and whispered,

“Say please.”

It was so condescending. You refused. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, wouldn’t feed his ego with whatever twisted game he was playing. You shook your head, not saying a word.

But Henry was patient.

His lips hovered just beside yours, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, the maddening proximity of him. His fingers traced slow, idle patterns along your waist, barely touching, just enough to make your skin prickle with awareness.

"Nothing to say?" he murmured, voice low, teasing. "For once?"

You turned your head away, jaw tight, but he only laughed, a quiet, amused sound that made something coil hot and electric in your stomach.

Then, his hand caught your chin, turning your face back toward him. Not forceful. Not rough. But firm.

His thumb traced lightly over your bottom lip, the touch so featherlight it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I could make you beg,” he said, thoughtful, almost to himself. "If I wanted to."

Your breath caught. “Go to hell.”

Henry just hummed, nodding his head as to agree with your statement. "Ladies first."

And then, he dipped his head, his lips grazing along the line of your jaw. It wasn’t a kiss. Not really. Just a brush of warmth, a suggestion, as though he was testing you. As though he wanted to see how long you could last before you cracked.

“You hate me,” he mused, his mouth ghosting over your skin. “You hate this.”

Your fingers curled against his chest, gripping the soft, expensive fabric of his sweater like you weren’t sure whether to pull him closer or push him away. His lips moved lower, the curve of your throat, the sharp line of your collarbone, never quite touching, just enough to make you want to chase the feeling. And god, you hated that.

His hand slid lower, past your waist, tracing slow, teasing lines over your hip.

"Say please," he whispered again.

You swallowed hard. “Go fuck yourself.”

Henry sighed, like you were being particularly difficult, and then, he pressed his lips just beneath your ear, the faintest scrape of teeth against sensitive skin. Your breath hitched. His hands curled against your hips, pulling you just slightly, just barely, against him. And oh, you felt it then, how hard he was, how much he was enjoying this.

The realization sent something sharp and hot spiraling through you, a dangerous kind of thrill, a rush of power tangled with frustration and something else you weren’t ready to name. Henry leaned in, pressing his body flush against yours, caging you against the bookshelf.

And then, with a voice so low it was almost a growl, he murmured,

"I think you like being told what to do."

Your breath left you in a sharp exhale. Henry tilted his head, studying you, like he was savoring your reaction.

Slowly, maddeningly, he dragged his lips down the side of your throat, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just above your pulse. And before you know it, you let your desire overcome your body, you let it consume your movements and your thoughts. Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his shirt desperately to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it.

You hated him. You thought you had. He thought you had too but he could feel how much you loved this in your own sick and twisted way, your hips pressing against his.

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he guides you to the desk with all of your work scattered on it. He moves to stand behind you, and slowly trails down your spine with his finger tips before pushing you down to lean against the desk. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself

“Henry,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him. He smiled down at you while sliding up your skirt.

“Say please.” He already knew what your answer would be. He knew you couldn’t do it. Not yet.

You shook your head side to side, pressing yourself back into his hands. “You’re insufferable,” you managed, voice breathless, unsteady.

Henry exhaled a quiet laugh.

"You’re trembling."

You hated that he was right.

Hated the way your body betrayed you, the way his voice sent a pulse of heat straight through you.

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “Oh darling, let’s see where this hatred will take us.”

He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties. You gritted your teeth, not wanting him to be awarded the pleasure of your moans, gripping the wood of the table to keep yourself shut when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle.

“Such a shame,” he said, pausing his movement. “Letting your pride get in the way of your own pleasure. It’s not as noble as you want to believe.”

“You’re a pretentious, self righteous, piece of sh-” you cut yourself off with a whine as his hand came down onto your flesh again.

“There we are,” he murmured, and in quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fabric pool around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest flush against the table. “So good for me now huh,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs.

“Fuck you,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly. He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, curling gently as you bit your lip, nearly drawing blood. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out. You let an annoyed whine escape your lips, feeling pathetic to let it slip.

“Say it,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back.

“No.” You replied through gritted teeth, and before you knew it you felt him pushing into you. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your hips as he pounded into you.

You screamed, your whole body locking up and then losing all control of itself, collapsing harder onto the shaking table. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook.

He was panting, the heat from the fire in the study made sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. You felt as if your soul had ascended, you were reaching for the sublime. You let out loud noises from your lips, letting the pleasure drip like honey, letting him grip your hips. You didn’t want to, but you needed to.

“Please, Henry, please.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis.

“I knew you could do it. Just had to fuck that attitude out of you, didn’t I.” Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled.

“Yes,” You moaned out, tears beginning to prick your eyes and threaten to fall onto your cheeks.

“How much do you want it?” Henry asked, almost politely, which almost made you laugh. If you didn’t feel like your body was being taken over, like pleasure was swimming through the veins of your body, making your heart pulse at a rate you didn't know was possible, you would have laughed.

“So much, please Henry.” You were both so close, holding on to the brink of this worldly feeling. Then, it happened.

“Yes, yes, fuck!” It hit you, your whole body convulsing as it ripped through, and he was done for too. It flooded through you like golden light through cracked stained glass, something vast, something unbearable, an ecstasy so sharp it teetered on pain, leaving you trembling, hollowed out, and whole all at once. You were nothing but a vessel for it, a body undone by beauty, by longing, by the sheer ruinous joy of surrender.

Bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, again, were trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “All you needed to do was say please,” he murmured, throat tight with affection.

“Such a jerk,” you muttered, amusement ringing through your tone so he could catch it. You chuckled before he moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

The only sounds were the ragged edge of your breathing, the ticking of the antique clock on the far wall, and the faint rustle of Henry adjusting his sweater sleeves and you fixing your own clothes up.

You were slumped against the desk, fingers curled against the polished wood as if it might anchor you, keep you from unraveling entirely. Your skin was feverish, your body still humming with the aftershocks of everything that had just happened.

Henry, infuriatingly composed, leaned back against the bookshelf, watching you. His lips were pink, his hair mussed in a way that betrayed his otherwise careful exterior.

You tilted your head and smiled slightly, biting back its full capacity. “Don’t look so smug.”

“Why not?” His voice was languid, smug, so utterly him you could’ve throttled him. “I think I’ve earned it.”

You had to force yourself not to laugh. “You-”

Shifting closer, voice a murmur. “Would you rather I pretend it didn’t happen? That you didn’t enjoy it?”

You bristled, standing so abruptly your knees nearly buckled. Henry caught your wrist before you could move away, his fingers light but firm.

"Careful," he murmured, tilting his head. "I wouldn’t want you to fall."

Your pulse leapt.

“You’re staring,” you muttered, still breathless.

“So are you.”

You scowled, pushing yourself up, reaching for your coat draped over the chair. “Well, I’m leaving.”

Henry hummed. “Why?”

You hesitated, fingers curling in the fabric. And then, just as you turned toward the door, Henry caught your wrist, not forcefully, not teasingly, just… gently. A stark contrast to everything that had just transpired between you.

“Stay.” His voice was quieter now, none of the sharp edges from earlier, none of the arrogance. Just the simple weight of the word. You swallowed, suddenly unsure.

“We hate each other,” you reminded him, but your voice lacked its usual bite.

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Do we?”

Your heart pounded. He was still holding your wrist, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your pulse. It wasn’t calculated, wasn’t another move in whatever game the two of you had been playing for years.

It was just him, just you.

“I won’t ask again,” he murmured, eyes searching yours. “If you want to go, go.”

For a second, you thought about it, thought about leaving, pretending none of this had happened, continuing as if you still couldn’t stand the sight of him.

But then, instead of pulling away, your fingers curled around his.

You exhaled, shoulders sinking. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to walk back in the cold.”

Henry’s lips twitched. “Of course.”

You rolled your eyes, but when he laced your fingers together, you didn’t let go.

25 notes · View notes

thorlokibrother · 3 days ago

Text

UK asthmatic here! Cigarettes in this country are so heavily taxed that they're unaffordable for people genuinely living hand to mouth. Unless they're buying them illegally.

No, cigarettes aren't helping impoverished people cope with being impoverished, they're making the poverty worse.

Yes, they're buying the cigarettes because of addiction, but help to stop smoking is heavily subsidised and readily available through the NHS. All you have to do is go to your GP and ask for assistance.

The UK doesn't get everything right, not by a long stretch, but I'm not prepared to give much sympathy to cigarette smokers when they're given so much help to stop smoking, are spending so much money in order to keep smoking, and make the air unbreathable for people like me who are ill by bad luck.

Very frustrating to see people with healthy lungs damage them on purpose and put people with faulty lungs at risk, and then complain about how somehow smoking is their only way to cope with a hostile environment.

alright i’m being mean, but this reads like a parody of a certain kind of post

#the british experience

580 notes · View notes

meanstepdad · 6 hours ago

Text

i made these little mini-zines as a way of processing. well. everything going on lately in the united states lol

"make zines" is a double-sided mini zine that includes a mini poster on the inside with instructions for how i made both of these zines.

"it would do us all well to make more art" comes with an additional PDF that gives instructions on how to print, cut, and assemble the zine from one double-sided sheet of paper.

both zines are available for free/pwyw to download and print from my ko-fi shop! feel free to print them, share them, take them apart to make your own zine templates, etc.

if you'd like to order physical copies of the zines together—because you don't have access to a printer, because you want to support me, or because it's nice to get things other than spam in the mail sometimes—i'm selling the physical copies together for $5.

here's a link to my ko-fi shop if you want to check out my other work!

and i'll put my big long rant about the thoughts i had while making these zines behind a cut.

i don't think that art is the solution to all our problems or that making art is on par with direct action, protesting, forming local community networks, calling representatives, donating to mutual aid funds, etc. art isn't a free pass to avoid doing the hard stuff. especially all of the stupid, silly art that i make, like my zine about the sims games lol.

when i think of discussions about the importance of protest art, i can't help thinking about that quote from vonnegut: "during the vietnam war, which lasted longer than any war we've ever been in -- and which we lost -- every respectable artist in this country was against the war. it was like a laser beam. we were all aimed in the same direction. the power of this weapon turns out to be that of a custard pie dropped from a stepladder six feet high."

creative doubts are a very leisurely problem to have in the scheme of things.

with that being said, these zines are more of a mantra that i've developed to pull myself away from all the spiraling thoughts that come when i spend too much time online doomscrolling, or when i think about the works i've made on gender, queerness, and anti-fat bias and how pointless it all feels.

and then i remember there are both very shitty, rich people and their very shitty, indoctrinated followers that would prefer i continue to feel this way, and that i and the people like me stop existing, or at the very least stop making our existence known and stop thinking our work and joy and community is of any importance. and then out of spite i resolve to scroll less and make art more, because i'm not going to give them that kind of resignation for free.

additionally, i think zines are a really valuable tool to utilize during a time when it's getting more difficult to organize and access information online. we're coming into an age now where we're really recognizing the impermanence of the internet—from important webpages and communities being wiped from existence to the increase in online content censorship that we see from platforms trying to appear more advertiser friendly family-friendly. this inherently conflicts with the nature of the world that we find ourselves in, whether it's talking about queer bodies or the ongoing genocides. additionally, it's getting harder and harder to access news that isn't from extreme right-wing sources without running into paywalls, which makes it difficult to educate yourself and others on important topics.

but nobody can shadowban zines. if your zines get taken off the internet for whatever reason, no one can stop you from printing off physical copies and mailing them, putting them in public places, or sharing them in-person with others. zines are both ephemeral and eternal, and also a great way of turning feelings of hopelessness into hope and community that you can share with others, whether they're about important things or silly video games.

#zines #zine #mini zines

20 notes · View notes

phightingheadcanons · 14 hours ago

Note

Headcanons i have about the phighters i tend to play the most (i play alot of different ppl and this isn't even all of them anymore-)

Katana

- has a phone, but its like a *really* old phone that uses like, 3g or smth (it is.. so slow.. but he barely uses it anyways)

- would rather send letters through some mail system to talk to people than calling or texting

- When him and Hyperlaser go out for drinks (like two, maybe three times a month me thinks) he usually gets a drink that tastes sweet or a little bit fruity.

- ^ Katana will also get harder/darker liquors, but he prefers the lighter stuff so more sweet/fruit flavors come through over the alchohol taste

Rocket

- is actually pretty self-consious about his arm and leg, but just masks it most of the time

- he loves the prosthetics themselves, but feels like he'll be judged by others for having them (even though he knows they almost definetely wont)

- Rocket actually needs Zuka's help sometimes to clean up his horns and maintain the way they look (Zuka always chuckles when he asks because Rocket always asks a little awkwardly)

Scythe

- her white eye isnt like glass eye or a blind eye or anything, its just naturaly completely white. like the sclera, iris, and pupil are all just naturally white, and no one knows why.

- ^ Medkit has tried to figure out why and has pulled more than one all-nighter (not in a row) to figure out, no no avail

- ^ her eye being white doesnt affect her vision at all, surprisingly. Scythe can see perfectly fine with it. the worst it gets its a little bit blurry sometimes, like a super weak gausian blur over everything, but only out of her left eye.

- Her right eye is completely fine and normal. She uses the lens thing to see farther away for better aim when she has her scythe in rifle mode.

- ^ the lenses have the three different levels of zoom and focus, and can be adjusted (not while in use though)

Shuriken

- because ninja vibes and vigilante, he's learned to walk silently and scares Vinestaff and Slingshot alot. sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose, just depends on his mood rlly.

- Shurifin is an inside joke between him Vinestaff and Slingshot when he dressed up in a really tacky fish costume for halloween one year (like amazon 5 bucks kind of cheap)

- he learned how to patch himself up pretty well so Vinestaff and Slingshot didnt suspect anything when he came late from vigilante stuff (saw this from another anon, love it sm so i included it here bc it really does just fit)

Vinestaff

- alot of people think she's self-concious about her arm, but she really isnt. yeah she doesnt exactly like the fact that her arm is tree, but she's learned to live with it

- her arm sprouts during spring/summer. i like the cherry blossom idea that i saw from a another anon too (im sorry i dont remember who you are-)

- ^ Vinestaff tolerates her arm more in the spring because of the pretty pink cherry blossoms, and likes how it looks throughout summer too. once it hits fall or winter though she goes back to not liking it as much because its bare and pretty much just bark, no pretty flowers or blossoms

- 🌌✨️ anon

"Ohhhh I love thosee"

#phighting headcanons #phighting!#headcanon #phighting #◇ mod sianachkit ◇#katana phighting #hyperlaser phighting #rocket phighting #zuka phighting #scythe phighting #medkit phighting #shuriken phighting #vinestaff phighting #slingshot phighting #🌌✨ anon

27 notes · View notes

juniperwoodwell · 2 days ago

Text

THE ROOFTOP

Paring: Matt Murdock X F!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol usage, Implied smut but nothing is explicitly written, No use of Y/n. (I think, I could be wrong). Smug Matt. A little Angsty, a little Fluff, a little Spice.

Word Count: 4k

A/n: Wow! Hello! Been awhile since I've written a Matt fic, I got back into my Matt phase since the new show is coming out soon. So Uh, here's this! Might make a second part for either 🥵 or to explain the history they have.

Late night. New York City. Endless possibilities.

Except the one I want.

My friends dragged me out of the house with the excuse of, "You’ve been cooped up in here for weeks!" If only they knew the real reason why.

The absence of the masked vigilante stung more than I cared to admit. So when they brought me to the club, I made a beeline for the bar, slipping into the first available seat. Folding my arms under my chest, I leaned over the counter to grab the bartender’s attention. He glanced my way before offering a small smile.

"What can I get you?"

Sitting back, I returned the polite gesture. "Gin and Coke, please."

He nodded, finishing off a glass he’d been polishing. I barely had a second to let my thoughts drift before a hand landed on my shoulder. My body tensed, but I quickly relaxed at the sight of familiar blonde curls.

Maya.

I glanced over my shoulder, taking in her bouncy, blue-eyed enthusiasm. "Maya, you startled me." My voice was soft, but she brushed off my reaction.

"You’re drinking already?!" she shouted, raising her voice as the music surged louder.

I shrugged. "What can I say? I like to start early."

She gave me a look of disapproval, but I ignored it.

"We have a table if you wanna join. We’re gonna dance!"

I tilted my head, eyeing her outfit—a baby blue tank top that showed just a sliver of stomach, low-cut shorts, and a thick black belt. A pair of oversized black sunglasses sat atop her head.

This was what we called her hunting outfit.

I smirked. "Oh, I see. You’re on the prowl, huh, Maya?"

Her face flushed a rosy shade. "Nooo, I swear I’m not!" She smacked my arm in protest just as the bartender set my drink in front of me.

"Gin and Coke."

"Yeah, thanks." I picked it up, taking a sip. The familiar burn trailed down my throat, a sensation I’d come to enjoy.

Maya placed a hand on my shoulder, leaning in so I could hear her over the music. "I’m gonna go dance, but you should join us. Please? It'll be fun."

I shook my head. "Maybe later. Go have fun."

She pouted but left me alone.

I sighed, shoulders sagging as I nursed my drink. "What a night." The words slipped out to no one in particular.

I sat there, contemplating the dull weight of responsibilities—work, bills, emails I’d been putting off.

Then, someone slid into the seat beside me.

I barely reacted at first, still hunched over, one arm resting on the bar while the other held my drink. But I felt them—their presence radiated heat despite the inches between us.

Curiosity piqued, I turned my head, and my breath hitched.

The man beside me held a white cane. He wore red-lensed glasses and spoke to the bartender in a low, smooth tone. My alcohol-buzzed brain struggled to process his words, too distracted by his lips, his shoulders—everything.

My gaze shamelessly devoured every inch of him.

I was never this bold. On a normal day, I was respectful. But when he turned his head slightly in my direction, I snapped my eyes away, suddenly embarrassed.

I took a long sip of my drink, draining it.

Sliding the empty glass across the counter, I reached into my pocket for my wallet—only to freeze.

"Shit."

I squeezed my eyes shut, cursing myself.

Leaning over the counter, I apologized quickly. "I’m so sorry, I left my wallet at home—do you have an ATM here?"

Before the bartender could respond, the man beside me spoke up.

"Put it on my card."

I turned to him, startled. "N-no, it’s okay. I just need to get some cash. You don’t have to—"

He smiled. And just like that, my already fuzzy brain fogged up even more.

"It’s alright. Just pass it on."

I hesitated before finally nodding. "Alright… well, thanks."

Sliding out of my seat, I scanned the club, searching for my friends. The dance floor was a mess of bodies—sweaty, grinding, lost in the music. I spotted Maya and the girls at our table and straightened my shoulders before heading toward them, dodging wandering hands and swaying hips.

Apparently, a hoodie and black jeans weren’t enough of a deterrent.

At the table, the girls cheered when they saw me.

"Hiiiiii!" Maya was the loudest, throwing her arms around me in a hug.

I smiled, patting her back. "Hi."

She pulled away with a pout. "Find anyone yet?" I teased, sliding into the booth beside her.

Mixed responses followed—some excited, some disappointed. I just shrugged.

A sudden squeal erupted beside me as a new song started.

Before I could react, a pair of hands yanked me from the booth.

"Maya! I’m not dancing!" I yelled over the music as we reached the center of the floor.

"Oh, come on! Let go—have some fun for once in your miserable life!"

She was drunk. I knew it plain as day.

But the words still stung.

Her hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide with regret. "Oh my God, I didn’t mean—"

I rolled my shoulders back, forcing a nod. "Right."

She reached for me, but I stepped away.

She shouted apologies, but I didn’t hear them. I was already pushing my way through the crowd, past feverish singles and entangled couples—until my shoulder collided with something firm.

Someone.

I looked up, gasping softly.

It was him. The man from the bar.

He held a beer in one hand. The other…

I glanced at my arm, where his fingers rested.

He leaned in slightly, tilting his head. "Are you alright?"

His voice vibrated through me.

I stepped back quickly. "Y-yeah. I’m fine. Thanks."

Then, the realization hit me.

"Why is a blind guy in a nightclub?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

My eyes widened in horror as I clapped a hand over my mouth. "Oh—oh my God, I’m so sorry, I—"

He laughed.

A genuine, amused chuckle.

And just like that, I forgot how to breathe.

"Who said I was blind?" he smirked, throwing my not-so-sober brain for a loop. I tried to respond, but it came out as a confused stutter, which only made his smile widen and his laughter continue.

"Blind guys can have fun too, you know," he teased, making me roll my eyes and smile.

"I realize that, it's just… there are a lot of people and a lot of things you could run into if you're not careful."

He shrugged and took a sip of his beer. "Well, I like a challenge."

I snorted out a laugh—it caught me off guard. Maybe the gin and coke was too strong tonight, or maybe I was going crazy.

"You remind me of someone I know," I said.

He tilted his head. "Oh yeah? How so?"

“I don’t know exactly…” I murmured, searching for the ghost of a memory just out of reach. “You just… feel like him.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, his head tilting slightly toward me, like he was listening for something beyond my words. “That so?” His voice was smooth, teasing, laced with a knowing amusement that sent a shiver down my spine.

Before I could piece together what felt so familiar about him, the music shifted into something slower, something that curled through the air like an invitation. His hand lifted toward me, open, expectant.

“Dance with me?”

I hesitated, my pulse stuttering for reasons I couldn’t name. But then my fingers brushed against his—warm, steady, confident—and suddenly, stepping into his space felt inevitable.

We moved easily together, the motion effortless despite the press of people around us. I guided him just slightly, but he already knew how to follow, his grip light yet assured, the sway of his body perfectly in sync with mine. He didn’t need to see the way I watched him—he could feel it, sense the shift in my breath, the way my fingers tightened in his.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, voice just audible over the music. “Thinking too hard?”

I huffed a soft laugh. “Just… trying to figure something out.”

“Mm.” His lips quirked, amused. “And?”

I studied him—how he moved with such certainty, how he never hesitated, how he tilted his head just slightly as if catching on to the things I wasn’t saying. It was in the way he held me, not just with his hands, but in the space between us, filled with something unspoken. Something I should’ve recognized.

“I just can’t put my finger on it,” I admitted.

His smirk deepened, just enough for me to feel it rather than see it. “Careful,” he said, voice dipping lower, almost conspiratorial. “You might not like the answer.”

The words sent a strange thrill through me, but before I could respond, he shifted just slightly, closing the distance between us, his breath warm near my temple. The world outside our slow-moving steps blurred—the pulse of music, the murmur of voices—until it was just us, caught in the quiet pull of something neither of us had named.

For now, I let myself stay in that moment, letting the mystery linger, the answer just out of reach.

As the song came to a slow, fading end, I felt a presence beside me before I even turned my head.

“There you are!” Maya’s voice cut through the haze, a mix of relief and impatience. “We’re heading out. You coming?”

I blinked, my fingers still loosely curled around the man’s hand. I glanced at Maya, then back at him, feeling an odd reluctance to step away just yet.

“No—It’s alright,” I said slowly. “I think I want to stay a bit, with—”

I turned back toward him, realizing I didn’t even know his name. He must’ve noticed my hesitation because a small, amused smile tugged at his lips.

“Matt,” he supplied smoothly.

I met his gaze—or rather, the space behind his red-lensed glasses—before nodding and turning to Maya. “With Matt.”

Maya gave me a knowing smirk, but she didn’t push. “Alright, just text me when you get home.” Then, with a wink, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone with Matt and the pulsing warmth still lingering between us.

He tilted his head in the direction of an empty booth near the edge of the room. “Sit with me?”

I nodded, following him as he maneuvered through the club effortlessly, despite his inability to see. He slid into the booth first, then gestured for me to sit.

Before I could say anything, he flagged down a server. “A water for her,” he said, then tapped the bottle of beer in front of him. “And I’ll finish this.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Ordering for me already?”

He smirked, resting his elbow on the table. “Call it a well-educated guess.”

I huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t argue as the water was set in front of me. I took a sip before leaning forward, studying him again.

“You really do remind me of someone,” I said, picking up where we left off.

He took a slow sip of his drink before setting it down with an amused expression. “Still stuck on that, huh?”

I narrowed my eyes playfully. “You’re not making it any easier with your whole… vibe.”

He leaned in slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “My vibe?”

I waved vaguely at him. “The smugness, the teasing, the way you talk. It’s like you know something I don’t.”

His grin deepened. “Maybe I do.”

I scoffed. “See? That! That’s exactly what I mean.”

He chuckled, running a slow finger along the rim of his bottle. “And what if I just have one of those faces?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Bit of a bold claim, considering…”

His smile didn’t falter. If anything, he looked even more entertained. “Touché.”

I shook my head, sipping my water as he finished his beer. Our conversation drifted into easy banter—light, teasing, but always skirting around the edges of something unspoken. Every time I tried to place the familiarity nagging at me, he would smirk, throw out a casual remark, and steer me away before I could catch onto it fully.

Before I knew it, the club had thinned out. I sighed, stretching my arms over my head. “I should probably head home.”

Matt nodded, pushing his empty bottle aside. “Let me walk you.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “You don’t have to—”

“I know.” He stood, waiting for me to do the same. “But I want to.”

Something about the way he said it, calm and matter-of-fact, made it impossible to refuse. So I didn’t.

With a small nod, I zipped up my hoodie, and together, we stepped out into the cool New York night.

As they walked, the city lights casting long shadows on the pavement, I glanced at Matt with a smirk.

“You know,” I mused, tucking my hands into my jacket pockets, “I think it’s kind of ironic—a blind guy walking a girl home.”

He chuckled, the sound low and amused. “Well, you seemed pretty confident dancing with me. Figured you’d trust me to get you a few blocks safely.”

I scoffed. “Dancing in place and crossing a city street are two very different things.”

He smirked. “Not for me.”

I shook my head, laughing softly as we continued in comfortable silence. The city hummed around us, the distant sirens, the occasional honk, the steady rhythm of our steps against the sidewalk. It was strangely easy—being next to him, teasing him, letting the warmth between us linger a little longer.

Before I knew it, we were at my building. I stopped at the entrance, turning to him with a small, grateful smile. “Well… thanks for the escort, Matt.”

He gave a small nod, standing relaxed with his hands tucked into his coat pockets. “Anytime.”

I lingered for half a second before stepping inside, but just as the door started to close, his voice reached me—calm, smooth, and laced with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t stay up too late working on the rooftop tonight.”

I froze. My breath caught in my throat, heart hammering against my ribs.

Slowly, I turned back to face him, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

Matt stood just where I left him, head tilted slightly, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

The world around me blurred as memories slammed into me all at once—late nights on the rooftop, the crisp night air, the city stretching endlessly beneath me. The voice, the teasing remarks, the quiet laughter that always found its way into our conversations.

Him.

My lips parted, but no words came out. My throat tightened, my eyes stung, and before I could stop it, a tear slipped down my cheek.

He just stood there, waiting.

I took a shaky breath, stepping forward, my voice barely above a whisper.

“…It’s you.”

Matt’s smirk deepened ever so slightly, but he didn’t confirm or deny it. He just stood there, letting the weight of realization settle over me like thick fog.

I took another shaky step forward, my pulse a frantic drum in my ears. “You—” My voice cracked. I swallowed hard, my mind racing to catch up. “You left.”

He exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. “I did.”

A flood of emotions crashed through me—relief, anger, confusion, something dangerously close to hope. I wiped at my cheek quickly, blinking against the rush of tears threatening to spill. “Why?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His lips pressed together, his jaw tensed. He wasn’t smirking anymore.

“I had to.” His voice was quieter now, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted me to hear it. “It wasn’t safe—for me or for you.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “And now it is?”

“No.” He took a step closer, the heat of his presence wrapping around me like a whisper of something I’d been missing for too long. “But I couldn’t stay away this time.”

A sharp breath left me, my throat tightening. This time.

The past year and a half of wondering, of waiting on that rooftop for a voice that never came back, of aching for something I never fully understood—it all came crashing down on me.

And now he was standing here, saying he had to leave but wanted to stay.

I shook my head again, stepping back, trying to put some kind of distance between us before I drowned in the pull of him. “I don’t— I don’t know what to do with this.” My voice was thick with emotion. “With you.”

Matt tilted his head slightly, studying me like he could see every part of me, even without his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything,” he murmured. “Not tonight.”

The way he said it—gentle, patient—made something in my chest crack open.

I looked away, exhaling shakily.

I could send him away. Walk inside and pretend this never happened.

But that wasn’t what I wanted.

I wanted answers. I wanted to understand why he left. Why he came back.

Why I still cared so much after all this time.

I looked up at him again. “Do you—do you want to come up?”

Matt didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

–

He followed me inside, the soft click of the door shutting behind him sending a ripple of unease through me. Not fear—never fear with him—but something heavier, something tangled between longing and disbelief.

It was the first time he’d actually stepped into my apartment, and suddenly, I saw it the way he would. Dishes stacked in the sink. Laundry baskets overflowing in the corner. Work files and unopened mail strewn across the table. A complete disaster.

I shrugged off my hoodie, tossing it onto the couch like I didn’t care. The air felt too thick, too suffocating, so I moved to the window and shoved it open. A cool night breeze rolled in, but it did little to steady my racing heart.

"I’ll make some coffee," I offered, needing something—anything—to ground me. "And maybe a snack."

Matt hummed in approval, stepping farther in. He slid off his coat, draping it over the back of a chair before following me into the kitchen. He rested his back against the counter, arms crossing over his chest in that effortlessly confident way of his.

I kept my back to him, pretending to focus on the coffee maker, but his presence pressed into me like a weight. Every inhale, every shift—it was maddening.

My thoughts spun, colliding between the past and present. Even after all this time, after already feeling his hands on me, there was still this desperate yearning to reach out—to touch him, to know he was real.

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

"Why now?" My voice came out quieter than I intended. "Why couldn’t you stay away this time?"

Silence.

It stretched long enough that doubt started creeping in, twisting in my gut. Then, finally, his voice—low, smooth, familiar—cut through the tension.

"Would you believe me if I said I missed you?"

I let out a breath, half scoff, half laugh. "I don’t know. Do you actually miss people, or do you just like messing with them?"

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and damn it, it sent something sharp through my ribs.

"Both," he admitted, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "But this time, it’s real."

I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching as I reached for a mug from the cabinet. My grip tightened around the ceramic, rolling the weight of it in my palm.

And then, instead of setting it on the counter for him, I put it back.

“Cold, sweetheart.”

“You deserve it,” I shot back, finally turning to face him.

His smirk deepened, but something flickered behind it—something I couldn’t quite place.

“Fair,” he said easily, though I could tell it amused him.

I crossed my arms. “You just decided one day to find me?”

“Not exactly.” His voice softened, the weight of something unspoken pressing between us. “I always knew where you were.”

My stomach clenched. I searched his face, trying to decide if that was meant to be comforting or unsettling.

Matt must have sensed my unease because he quickly added, “I wasn’t watching you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I narrowed my eyes, skeptical. “No? Because that sounds an awful lot like something a guy who was watching me would say.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t push. Instead, he just sighed and leaned back against the counter, tapping his fingertips idly against the surface. “I stayed away,” he murmured. “Told myself it was better that way. That you’d move on.”

I exhaled a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Move on from what?” I shook my head. “You never even told me your name.”

His jaw tensed slightly. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then—

“That was the problem,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to leave at all.”

A dull ache settled in my chest, my pulse tripping over itself.

It wasn’t fair. That he could say things like that. That he could come back after all this time and still make me feel—

I looked away, blinking hard. “You’re an ass, you know that?”

Matt chuckled, tilting his head. “So I’ve been told.”

I turned back toward the counter, eyeing the empty coffee mug I had put away. For a split second, I considered taking it back down.

But I didn’t.

I let him sit with that.

I turned, gripping the counter behind me. "So what now?"

Matt let out a slow breath, tilting his head slightly as if listening for something beyond the walls. "That depends on you."

"On me?" I scoffed. "You’re the one who left. The one who stayed away. You decided what was best for me without even asking."

His lips pressed together. "You think it was easy?" His voice was quieter now, rough around the edges. "You think I wanted to disappear?"

I swallowed, my grip tightening. "I don’t know what to think, Matt. I don’t even know who you are anymore."

Something in his expression made my breath hitch. His eyes—unseeing but unwavering—pinned me in place.

"Then ask me."

I hesitated, every question I wanted to ask battling to be first.

"Did you miss me?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, soft and uncertain.

Matt’s lips parted slightly, like he hadn’t expected that one.

His fingers tapped against the counter once. Twice. Then stepping toward me, closing the space between us.

"I thought about you every damn night," he admitted, his voice low and unguarded. "I told myself it was for the best, that you’d be safer without me in your life." A wry smile flickered across his lips. "But then I’d hear your voice in my head, telling me I was being an idiot."

I exhaled a shaky laugh. "Sounds about right."

Matt reached out then, slowly, giving me space to pull away. When I didn’t, his fingers ghosted along my wrist, trailing up to my elbow.

"I told myself I wouldn’t come back," he murmured. "That I’d stay out of your life, no matter how much I wanted to see you again."

"Then why are you here?" My voice barely rose above a whisper.

His hand trailed higher, brushing my shoulder, then my jaw, his thumb just beneath my chin.

"Because I lost that fight."

And then his lips were on mine.

It wasn’t tentative or careful. It was searing, a collision of every word left unsaid, every moment stolen by time and distance.

I sucked in a breath, caught completely off guard. My hands hovered uselessly at my sides, caught between the instinct to push him away and the overwhelming need to pull him closer. For a split second, I hesitated—years of questions, of hurt, flashing through my mind. But then he let out the smallest, almost desperate sound against my lips, and I melted.

My fingers fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him in as I kissed him back, all hesitation burned away in the heat of his touch. His hands framed my face now, holding me to him like he was afraid I’d slip through his fingers again. And Lord help me, but I didn’t want to let go either.

The world outside ceased to exist. His hands were firm, steady, tracing along my jaw, threading into my hair as the kiss deepened.

I felt it everywhere—his warmth, his breath, the way he moved against me like he was memorizing me all over again. I didn’t realize we were moving until my back hit the edge of the couch. He pulled me with him, guiding me through the apartment, our hands never leaving each other, fingers gripping, anchoring.

I barely noticed when we knocked into the table, when my hoodie slipped off the couch onto the floor. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but this. Matt’s lips moved to my jaw, then just below my ear, his breath sending a shiver through me. I exhaled shakily, my fingers finding the buttons of his shirt, pushing it open as we stumbled toward the hallway.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice rough, his forehead resting against mine for the briefest moment.

I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I pulled him back to me, pressing my lips to his like we could make up for all the lost time in a single moment.

We reached my bedroom door, hands roaming, bodies pressed close, the air between us electric. I reached behind me, fumbling for the doorknob, pushing it open.

And as we stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind us, everything else faded away.

#writing #fanfic #reader insert #matthew murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader

20 notes · View notes