#but we all know it's a struggling site and i do worry how much longer it will keep going

[hegodamask]

Doing tumblr stats when you've had the same blog since 2011 is a real eye opener into how active this site used to be 10+ years ago.

I know my blog isn't representitive for the whole of tumbr, but look at the number of notes I was getting 2012-2017 compared to...now lol. The massive uptake in 2015 is down to The Force Awakens releasing that year and hype being at an all time high. My most popular post on this blog ever is a screenshot of John Boyega's tweets. I was running a Star Wars sideblog at the time which shot up with even more followers and notes than this. Really shows you how active the fandom was on here back then.

And despite consistently using tumblr for 14 years, the number of original posts I've made myself has gone down a lot. In 2012, I made 2513 original posts, in 2024 as of right now I've made 159. That's the lowest number in my whole 14 years of being on here 😐

Some of this is down to me personally (I'm 14 years older, life gets in the way, my relationship with Star Wars has changed etc.) But we also can't deny the lack of activity on here, plus people (myself included 😔) becoming more passive consumers on social media is a major factor too.

It's far from perfect, but I still love tumblr so much. I have friends on here going way back to 2012 and I'm still making friends on here in 2024! Plus, it's still a huge creative and fandom outlet for me. In a year where every other social media site felt like it was draining the life out of me, I'd really hate to lose the one platform I still genuinely enjoy being on. I really hope tumblr as we know it can weather the storm of whatever the internet will become by the end of this decade, but idk if it will.

Originally, I joined tumblr as a new years resolution. Perhaps my resolution this year should be to put more effort into being active on social media in a positive way. To push myself to make things I enjoy and actively celebrate the things others create too. Even if tumblr doesn't last the next 10+ years, maybe that attitude is the only way to stay happy and sane online these days.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my girlfriend to lose weight?

Okay, so that sounds horrific, but bear with me.

To be clear, I (23M) could not care less what weight she (27F) is or what she looks like. I love this woman with my whole heart and none of it is about her appearance. We’re pretty much engaged in all but name, the only reason it’s not official is because we don’t have money to even think of weddings right now, and I plan to spend the rest of my life with her.

Thing is, she’s obese. Like, medically, not in a derogatory sense. This is massively affecting her health. She’s constantly out of breath, constantly in pain, constantly struggling, and it’s leading to other conditions such as sleep apnea. She thinks she has asthma because she’s always struggling to breathe, but I’m 95% sure it just comes down to weight and her doctor has said the same, but she tends to write it off as doctors being fatphobic.

Much of this is due to the fact that she used to struggle with binge-eating disorder. She no longer binge eats, but she does overeat in general because her body is so accustomed to constant food, so she gets painfully hungry and dizzy after 2-3 hours of not eating.

I’ve tried to encourage her to exercise with me, diet with me, count calories etc., but she gives up super easy when she doesn’t see immediately results. She also says herself that she finds it very difficult to see herself accurately - she has the reverse of “typical” body dysmorphia, where she sees herself as thinner than she is, so she genuinely sees herself as thin or like slightly curvy. (To be clear, she is very visibly obese, people comment on this often, and while I’ll be the first to go fists up if someone’s a dick to her about it as people have been I also am genuinely worried about her health.) Because of that she has no motivation to lose the weight because she just doesn’t see it. It’s bad enough that she’s been told by doctors she WILL likely struggle later in life with heart failure, diabetes etc if she doesn’t lose weight, yet her POV is more, “It can’t be that bad because I’m not that big so I don’t need to worry about it”. She has occasional reality checks, most recently she put her measurements into some site that shows an image of what you look like from a third person perspective, and she was completely shocked like “I can’t look like that. Do I? This is a wake up call”, but days later it’s completely lost and she’s back to saying she’s not that big again.

She wants kids with me, and I just absolutely do not want to commit to having children with her when I know there’s a not-insignificant chance she’ll have serious health issues in the future that could mean she’s not with us for as long as she could be. Both for the kids’ sake, and selfishly because I want her around! I don’t want to think about something happening to her earlier in life and being without her.

But I just don’t know what to do. Gently suggesting it hasn’t worked, saying I’m worried about her health hasn’t worked, saying I don’t want kids until she’s healthy hasn’t worked (even if she’s still overweight I really don’t care as long as she’s not in a “danger zone” y’know?), trying to meal plan with her hasn’t worked, trying to get her to keep track of calories hasn’t worked, trying to exercise with her hasn’t worked.

People I’ve asked in the past have told me to be firm about it, but I’m incredibly reluctant to do that - I struggled with anorexia for most of my teenage and adult life and I know how deep it can cut to have your weight criticised or commented on. I don’t want to be that dick who basically calls someone I love very much unhealthy and fat and tells her to lose weight or no kids or some horrible shit like that.

But I just. Can’t work out what to do. She does express a willingness to lose weight, she says she wants to, she just doesn’t have that motivation to do it. I don’t know what else we can try.

AITA for focusing on this in the first place? Like am I actually just being fatphobic, or is my own past with EDs influencing my thinking? Am I going about it all wrong? Should I just accept it as something that’ll be a potential issue in future and deal with it then or am I fair to worry about it early on?

What are these acronyms?

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Posting one of my actual (fandom-related) full fics on here... be nice!!

This is some good ol' intubation whump because it's my favourite.

(for slight context of character, see this old post)

When the call comes in, everybody in the ER is hoping it isn't Coop. Especially Neela.

Severe asthma attack. 26 year old male.

Somehow, because it's his day off and he really ought to be relaxing, it seems almost impossible for him to find himself back in the hospital as a patient. It just… isn't fair.

That doesn't stop the wheels of the gurney from rolling through the doors, though. Doesn't change the fact that Coop is laying half-conscious on top of it, his quick, shallow breaths fogging a nebulizer mask, his skin so pale it looks ashen.

“26 year old male,” the paramedic conducting the transfer restates. “Severe asthma attack with symptoms pointing to onset of status asthmaticus. Albuterol administered, as well as 0.5mg subcutaneous epinephrine, both to minimal effect.”

Dr Lewis, the attending on the case, moves to Coop’s side, slipping the chest piece of her stethoscope underneath his t-shirt as they continue to move into one of the trauma rooms. Her expression, when she withdraws it, is severe.

“His airways are pretty much closed up. He needs more epi now.”

Abby hurries to drag a crash cart in, and Neela follows the gurney all the way until it's positioned in the trauma room, at which point she starts readying an IV kit with shaking hands.

Coop does not look good. Even when compared to the time she almost killed him with epi. At least then he'd been alert, sitting up, and his skin hadn't lost all of its colour like it has now.

Dr Lewis returns from fetching some more equipment, and as she waits for Abby to arrive with the crash cart, she strokes Coop’s hair reassuringly.

“Hang on, sweetheart, we’re going to help you feel better. Just keep breathing for me, okay?”

Through weak wheezes that emerge from blue-tinged lips, Coop nods. His eyelids are heavy with exhaustion.

Neela hasn't seen an asthma attack this severe in person before, but she knows from med school how dangerous they can be- especially when the patient is as tired as Coop is. It isn't clear how long he's been struggling this much to breathe. The colour of his skin (or lack of, for that matter) tells her it's been too long.

If they don't work quickly, his body will run out of energy. He'll stop breathing, too exhausted to even inhale anymore. He'll lose oxygen.

He'll die.

“Neela, I need an IV of 100mg hydrocortisone.”

She turns to find Dr Lewis’ keen gaze on her. There's a thinly veiled panic in the attending’s eyes that quickly disappears as she turns back to Coop, gently trying to reassure him as he fights for air.

“I’m going to page Pratt as well, alright, Coop? He can get you some more albuterol so your nebulizer doesn't dry out.”

Neela can't see whether Coop replies, but if he does, it isn't audible. All she can hear is his terrifying wheeze and the hum of the nebulizer, shortly joined by a rapid beeping as a nurse finally helps him take off his shirt and hooks him up to a monitor. She doesn't dare turn around to look at his oxygen saturation. It's likely going to keep plummeting.

Instead, she focuses on setting up the cannula in Coop’s trembling arm, her left hand holding it steady while her right slides the needle in.

“There we are, Coop.” she murmurs. “You're doing so well, sweetheart.”

The pet name feels stranger coming from her lips than Dr Lewis', but at this point her slight blush is the least of their worries. While Coop’s this sick, it doesn't matter what she calls him. He just needs to start breathing properly again.

Once the IV site has been secured with a clear sticker, Neela measures out the dose of hydrocortisone. 100mg. When they're giving it as a steroid over a longer period of time, they prescribe 20-30mg a day, in two doses. The fact that they're pumping him full of this much at once is testament to just how emergent his case is.

“100mg hydrocortisone going in.” she announces. Connects the needle to the cannula. Pushes down on the plunger of the syringe.

Despite her accumulated knowledge surrounding medication, Neela still half expects the effects to be immediate. For Coop to suddenly relax, his airway opening up again, the colour gradually suffusing his cheeks. For the wheezing to fade as he breathes in properly for the first time in hours.

It doesn't. None of this happens.

Minute by minute, Coop continues to deteriorate. Abby brings in the crash cart. Dr Lewis injects the epinephrine beneath the skin of his forearm and, unlike before, he doesn't even react to the needle. His eyes flicker like his awareness is slipping away from him.

By the time Pratt arrives to switch out Coop’s nebulizer, such a small intervention becomes pointless. Even if Coop were able to breathe properly, time has proven that albuterol, on this occasion, just isn't working. Pratt sets down the new nebulizer and instantly crosses to Coop’s bedside, brow furrowed.

“Coop, man, can I listen to your chest?”

A barely perceptible nod.

When Pratt presses the cold stethoscope against Coop’s heaving chest, it seems more of a confirmatory action than one that's actually necessary. He sighs, shaking his head. Coop, as evidenced by the blue tinge to his lips, his rolling eyes, the pallor of his skin, is officially status asthmaticus.

He's in respiratory failure.

Things suddenly grow a lot more urgent. Pratt gives Lewis a gesture that she reciprocates, and a nurse pulls the crash cart closer to the bed. Neela’s heart sinks just as Abby sinks into position right at Coop’s bedside, crouching next to him as she strokes his hair and updates him.

“Sweetheart, your breathing isn't where we need it to be, okay? You're not getting enough oxygen. We need to put you to sleep for a while… intubate you. Do you understand?”

Coop closes his eyes, humming in assent even as a frightened tear slips down his cheek.

“Ju-just… d-d-do… iiiiit.”

His voice is shot. Weak. Resigned to his fate.

It's the same phrase he used when Abby shocked his heart back into a regular rhythm a few months ago. Back then, though, it had simply been a plea to get things over with.

Now, it seems not only a desperate entreaty, but also a solemn reminder:

I’ve been here before.

Neela knows, just as the other staff do, that Coop’s been super sick a couple of times. He knows what it's like to wake up in the ICU feeling like you're breathing through a straw. He knows what it's like for weeks to pass in the span of a minute.

He knows that when he's tubed, he can breathe, and that’s all that matters.

“We’re going to look after you, sweetheart, I promise.” Abby says, her own eyes a little misty. She brushes the sweat-damp hair from his forehead and squeezes his hand. One of the other nurses adjusts the bed so it's laying flat. The tears, terrified, continue to stream silently down his cheeks.

Abby lifts his hand, pressing an almost motherly kiss to the back of it, while Pratt slots a syringe full of medication into the cannula of his other hand.

“Propofol and some muscle relaxants are going to go in now, man. Just relax and let yourself drift off- we’ve got you.”

As the syringe is pushed, Neela can see Coop’s grip on Abby’s hand loosen. The thick tears decorating his cheeks seem, in themselves, to slow down, the scared expression in his eyes melting away beneath the anaesthetic. He blinks once. Twice.

Gone.

There's something so unnerving about Coop being still. How, as Pratt brushes his index finger underneath Coop’s eyelashes, the latter doesn't stir at all to crack a smile. When Dr Lewis gets into position behind his head and adjusts her patient accordingly, he's limp and movable. Floppy.

“Pratt, can you get that nebulizer off?”

“Sure.”

There are red marks across Coop's face from where the straps of the mask dug into his skin for hours. Now, he doesn't breathe at all. He looks dead. According to the dropping numbers on the monitor, he may as well be dead.

“Laryngoscope.”

“Here. Laryngoscope.”

A nurse places the metal instrument into Dr Lewis' awaiting hand. Her other hand gently tilts Coop’s head back.

“Alright… sliding laryngoscope in… got slight cord visualisation. Tube?”

“Tube.”

Neela watches her angle the endotracheal tube in with bated breath- and for good reason.

“C’mon, Coop.” Lewis murmurs, desperately trying to gain access. “I need to help you breathe, sweetheart. Let me help you breathe.”

Pratt steps up next to her, arms crossed. “Difficult airway?”

“Nearly impossible. Haven't seen this level of inflammation in a long time. Poor guy must have been so incredibly uncomfortable.”

The monitor continues to blare. Coop’s oxygen levels continue to drop.

Abby, still positioned right next to him, stroking his hair even as he lays there unconscious, glances worriedly at the screen.

“His sats aren't looking good.”

Dr Lewis sighs. “Yeah, I know, I'm just trying to- there.”

Her relief is palpable, and Neela knows at once that she’s finally in. She watches the tube slot into place before Lewis inflates the cuff, and Pratt connects everything up to the vent.

“Tube’s misting.” Abby says gently, as everyone begins to relax. “Looks like good placement.”

Pratt pulls his stethoscope out from around his neck.

“I’ll check.”

He moves to Coop's side and checks his breathing, first auscultating the left side of his chest, then the right. It's odd, Neela thinks, to observe how natural his breathing looks now, when only moments ago it was erratic and desperate- but of course, it isn't technically him breathing now at all. They've taken over for him.

After a few more checks with the stethoscope across Coop’s chest and neck, Pratt stands up, slinging the device back around his own neck.

“Bilateral breath sounds. You're in.”

Everyone in the room seems to relax at once, especially when the numbers on the monitor start to creep up to normal.

“Alright,” Dr Lewis breathes, turning to Abby. “Secure it, then we'll get him down to ICU. Keep him on max settings until we know it's safe to start weaning him off."

She moves back, as does Pratt, and Abby stands, giving Coop’s hair one last gentle run through with her fingers before she moves away to fetch the tube holder. Neela's eyes remain fixed on him, though. It's impossible not to when he's so completely still.

“You alright, Neela?” Abby asks gently as she returns a few moments later.

Neela nods. “Yeah, I just… it's so different when you know them. I didn't realise how sick it would make me feel.”

Abby gives her a small reassuring smile, then focuses her attention back on the packaging she's just picked up, tearing it open and pulling out the holder before she starts to peel off the tape on the pads.

“I know what you mean. It's not easy seeing somebody you care about like this, and it's somehow even harder with a person like Coop. He's always smiling, always moving, always there, and now…” She presses the first pad against his cheek gently, thumb brushing against it to secure it. “He's not. He's always there to take care of everybody else, and now…” She applies the other pad, movements just as careful and attentive. “He needs us to take care of him.”

Neela hums affirmatively, watching her secure the tube.

“There's just so much at stake. So much that could go wrong, and nearly did. Maybe it even has.”

Abby finishes, standing up fully again and adjusting things ever so slightly. Coop looks like the other patients in the ICU now, and it makes Neela’s stomach roll with anxiety.

“It isn't easy.” Abby responds. “But that's what the ER’s like, even if it happens with one of our own. It's fast-paced, it's risky, and sometimes the worst happens. Sometimes, we can't easily cure a patient, and we have to hope that they'll fight enough on their own to get through things.”

“Do you think he will? Coop?”

“There are no guarantees, but if anyone's going to, it's him.” She looks down at him with a mixture of affection and admiration. Her thumb strokes along the curve of his jaw. “He just needs to hang on long enough for the inflammation to go down. He just needs to do something which is pretty alien to him, and rest. Let us do some of the heavy lifting for a while until he's strong enough to do it on his own again.”

Neela nods. “He'll get through it.”

Abby smiles. “Exactly. He'll get through it… You’re a tough one, aren't you, sweetheart?” She brushes back some more sweat-damp and unruly hair from his forehead. “Let's get you somewhere you can rest, hm?”

Coop remains still, the only sign he's still there at all being the beeping of the monitor and the fogging of the tube. But somehow, as Neela helps Abby raise the railings of the bed ready for transport, she knows he's going to come out of this.

He always does.

[wcwick66]

WIDT Ep.1

What I did today, episode 1.

Wednesday, November 6th, 2024.

Style: loose, unedited.

TLDR; I'm feeling creative, moving past my shame, and write a lot of adult material out of interest and coping and there is often overlap.

Today I made my blog! I've been a tumblr user for years, but today I started my super super official blog. I have struggled for months with this decision, but I'm tired of waiting for something to finish and would rather just go for it and start documenting since I can. Tumblr is the perfect space to do this, because I need a place to yap and if something happens to me, I'd also really like my partner to be able to have a little side archive of my ramblings while I'm in the process of making those ramblings official on my website.

Plus, I feel a bit of intentional permanence when I do things this way. A true log where I get to be myself while also being able to put the best and worst of myself out there.

I watched a video on how to make glitter letters and where to find those pretty banners, I set up a sites and cites page, and I figured out how to insert gifs as photos until I can figure out how to edit the sizes of them and make my own banners and separators from them.

All of my blog and other posts will be split up and highlighted in the colors that relate to my pinned post, pink for about me, and so on.

Moss and I get to have a day at home together for the most part. I have an appointment, and they like to come with me. It's been a bit of a high nerves day, but all is well. I'm hosting a dinner party soon, I think. Our friends tend to be busy people, but with enough notice we might be able to gather a group of six or so to have a little mixer. I think they'll all get along, but general social dynamics can be a little complicated sometimes. It's why I'm the cook; hosting is a talent of mine in small bursts.

We'll get food, and then I'm going to start moving notes and such into Ao3. I've decided to no longer be afraid of just sharing my plots. How its written is everything, and I'm not at all worried about others changing, taking inspo, taking the plot, or otherwise. It doesn't have to be a book until it's a book, right? I've not used Ao3 nearly as much as others have an just made my account a couple months ago, but Moss let me know that they see people just post their plots all the time. Meaning to get back to them, of course, but that also made me realize that I could be garnering interest and support for a plot rather than letting it sit and rot to the point of discarding it.

I'm a writer with low self confidence, but I'm trying, and I'll never grow if I don't put myself out there. I have a lot of aversions and anxiety around discussing a lot of topics in person, but that doesn't mean I need to feel shame either. I'm behind a mask and always will be, and I not only enjoy writing niche stuff, but I'm really good at it. Do I have any proof of that? No, because I was full of shame and orphaned my works, but I won't again, and it's just writing and expression and I am so heavy with disclaimers.

Writing is a very big way I work through trauma and triggers, and my brain loves to fixate. So I might end up writing a lot of variants of the same thing, but I also live for the dopamine. That's all for now!

With love, Wendy.

[gif credit lost to the ages, found on pinterest.]

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 34 - A Wedding With Pizzazz, Part 2

Miko: We’re not supposed to see each other until we walk down the aisle!

Penny: When have I ever cared about tradition? You’re more important to me than some lame superstition. You look absolutely stunning.

Miko: I mean, you do too, of course.

Miko: You’re wearing white. Why?

Penny: I know for a fact you’re not a virgin either, hon.

Miko: No no, I just mean… you hate wearing white.

Penny: Did you expect me to wear a dress made of peacock feathers on our wedding day? … Actually, don’t answer that.

Penny: I know I dress a little wild on the daily, but today is about celebrating us, Mimi. I wanted to match my beautiful wife.

Miko: Oh, sweetie.

Penny: We’re a team. A united front. We both get to shine today, and for the rest of our lives.

Penny: I don’t ever want to hear you doubt how much I love you ever again, do you understand me?

Miko: I-I…

Penny: I have lived a blessed, amazing, fabulous life, and the best damn thing that ever happened in it was meeting you. You’re the most kind, selfless, and positive person I have ever met. You’ve celebrated my highs and picked me up during my lows. You were there for me when all my fake ass Simstagram friends never were. If I kept listing what I see in you we’ll miss the whole damn wedding.

Penny: I love you, Miko. And you know when I love something, I love it to the max. I’m the one who asked you to marry me, y’know. You’re never getting rid of me. Deal with it.

Miko: I love you too, baby.

Miko: Oh Watcher, I feel like a mess

Penny: A beautiful mess.

Miko: I’ll go see if the makeup artist can help me freshen up.

Penny: I'll be right behind you in a second, Mimi.

Ophelia: How much did you hear?

Penny: Enough. Thank you for being there for Miko. She struggles with her self-esteem a lot, and that PlumBright piece didn't help. Despite everything that’s happened, it’s nice to know there are still decent Sims out there. Needless to say, the band will be getting a big tip tonight.

Ophelia: I didn’t come find Miko or say that stuff because I was worried I wouldn't get paid or tipped.

Penny: I know. That’s why you’re getting it.

Penny: Let’s keep in touch. You have my personal number, but I'll send you my business contact info later. I like you, and that’s a rare thing to actually mean in my line of work. I don’t have a ton of music connections but you’ll be the first person I call when someone asks.

Ophelia: That's so sweet, thank you!

Penny: You got dragged because of me, I owe you something.

Ophelia: Hey, friends stick by each other through thick and thin. And like the article said, I'm your talentless friend!

Penny: What more could a tacky, self-obsessed girl ask for?

It's not so lovey-dovey up in the Laurents' office.

Tiff: You can’t blame me for Ty’s work!

Hilary: There’s no way he would have known most of that without you telling him.

Tiff: Anyone could tell that those women are total disasters!

Hilary: Enough! Your disrespect has been tolerated for far too long, but you will not disrespect my clients and their privacy. Penny and Miko no longer feel comfortable having you participate in the wedding, and I don’t feel comfortable having you as an employee. You’re fired.

Tiff: You can’t be serious!

Hilary: You have been given several chances to curb your attitude. You failed every single time. Security will escort you off site.

Tiff: Forget it. I’m out of here. You’ll regret this, Hilary.

Hilary: Goodbye, Tiffany.

As Ophelia walks back inside to ready herself before her performance at the reception, she's unfortunate enough to run into Tiff, who can't even be escorted away by security with any humility.

Tiff: I hope you’re happy. You and your friends may have won the battle, but this war is far from over.

Ophelia: This wasn’t a battle. You’ve been the only one fighting and you fought so hard you gave yourself a black eye!

Tiff: You’ll see! YOU'LL ALL SEE!

Hilary: I apologize for my former employee’s behavior. I hate to ask this of you, but would you be willing to fill in on the violin? Anaya will cover Tiff’s portion, you would just accompany with Alice.

Ophelia: I know the song. I’ve got this.

The violin trio starts the processional song, along with Moses on the piano. It's go-time.

Penny: Last chance to bail.

Miko: And give up having the last name Pizzazz? You're dreaming, sweetie.

Penny: That's my girl.

It's now or never. Let's do this!

You may now kiss the bride!

Penny and Miko Pizzazz walk back up the aisle, feeling more in love than ever before. The hate, the panic, the chaos of the past 24 hours didn't matter.

This feeling is what they'll remember in their elder years.

[poorasdirt]

Real Talk

Okay, normally I just scroll through Tumblr for the memes and maybe a writing prompt to slay my creative demon for a while. But for the past month my life has been so up in the air I legit couldn’t bother to even put a pen to paper.

See, I was living at my dad’s house for the past ten or so years. It was all cool because despite being close to retirement he was pretty on the ball with stuff. But he retired and life got, real? I’m not sure how to describe it.

I was taking care of my dad’s house for him, as best as I could, while we waited for him to finally be able to retire. That was all good and dandy really. But I have a little sister who does stupid shit sometimes. I love her, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I want to put her in a barrel and send her down Niagara Falls.

She’s wrecked three of my cars, could possibly be blamed for wrecking a fourth car, and basically had me stuck at my house for the better part of eight years. I had a revolving door of neighbors that were as intrusive as the weather and I live far enough north that on average my area gets roughly five feet of snow on average.

So, I was dealing with that, but I was dealing. I had ways of getting by without imploding. Then back in April I found out that dad forgot to pay the land taxes for three years and our house was foreclosed on. We had to scramble to find a place to stay, pack up the house, and all around figure out life again.

Don’t worry, I’m mostly in a good place now. I’m not completely on solid ground but there is light at the end of my tunnel that isn’t an oncoming train.

I mean it was so bad that just looking at the fanfics I’ve been writing on Ao3 for fun just made me want to bawl. I’ve contemplated deleting it all, given how fresh everything still is. But I won’t, because I still get comments on those fics about how much people love them.

Then, I saw another author, posting on one of the stories I bookmarked, say that they were deleting the fic because it reminded them of a shitty time in their life. I don’t fault them for that, they can do as they feel best for their mental health. But at the same time the fans of that fic are faced with the thought of losing something that means something so different for them.

I mean why can’t they just orphan the work so they don’t have to deal with it but it can remain as testament to it existing. I’ve followed fanfic sites for a long time at this point and it sometimes hurts to think of a great fic, or scene, or OC and go hunting for it. Only to find that the fic no longer exists.

This brings me to something I always struggle with when it comes to writing. See, I’ve always wanted to write my own novel. I have ideas and even sketch out possible scenes, writing feverishly to capture those moments. But I’ve read blogs and books and watched youtube videos all about writing.

I find the one thing keeping me from taking the plunge of writing an original work is the question of an audience. Every bit of advice when it comes to writing a novel comes with the caveat that it’s being written for someone. I get it, publishers want the work of fiction (or otherwise) to resonate and get sold so money could be made.

But it brings me to the question of how much of my fanfic writing was made for myself, and how much have a written for Ao3 (or any other fanfic site I casually was part of over the years). Have I, this whole time, been strictly writing for myself or the community of fans that also occupy the fandom I enjoy? How many times have I continued a project not for the fact that I wanted to, but because of a thoughtful comment or review made me keep going?

Is the reason writing an original work so daunting because I don’t know who my audience would be? Is the built it audience of a fandom a crutch that I’ve been leaning on for years? Or have I become so isolated due to circumstances beyond my control that I can’t quite name a group of people that could enjoy what I want to write?

I’m sure there is an audience out there, but every time I contemplate who my target audience could be I draw a blank. Every time I look at my ongoing fanfic projects I wonder if the passion I have for them is for myself, or those reading them. Am I having a creative crisis or is it just self awareness finally kicking in?

Or maybe I just need a break from writing, somehow. It’s a little hard because my brain won’t shut up about a new idea or working on a new chapter in a fanfic. Otherwise, aside from needing to rant somewhere, I’m doing well.

Thank you for getting through this brain vomit if you made it this far. I hope you have a wonderful day. I’m going outside to take a walk and touch some grass.

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, APRIL 30, 2011 I’ll have to remember to keep a watch on the inmate search site to see if Mary’s released next month like she’s supposedly going to be. That is assuming they don’t pull anything else on her to hold her there longer. Technically they could hold her till 2013 if they really wanted to. I hope not, for her sake. And I hope she’ll leave the bad boys and the babies to someone else and that she’s realized there’s life beyond abuse and having babies. I think she has, even though it’s been over a year since I’ve heard from her.

That’s another thing I have to think about right there - if I do hear from her, should I or shouldn’t I respond? I’d naturally be curious to talk to her, but at the same time, I don’t want to get hit with a million favors even if I do know how to say no. At the risk of sounding selfish, I’m too busy to worry about others. Remember, fair or not, like it or not, I’m one of the “chosen” ones destined to be forever poor and that means having to work my ass off any chance I get when online jobs come my way, as well as with my writing.

In fact, I’m going to see if there are any translation jobs or other jobs available, then crank out the next chapter of my book.

Despite being naïve, brainwashed, and abused, I know prison has taught Mary a great deal and that she has grown tremendously since the tragedy she experienced, so whether I hear from her or not, I wish her the best!

FRIDAY, APRIL 29, 2011 OMG, Jesse didn’t come down today! Must’ve gotten a tumor up his ass or something.

I was reading an article yesterday about a 91-year-old woman who’s been selling suicide kits down in San Diego. Plastic bags you place over your head that are hooked up to helium tanks. Like with carbon monoxide, you’re dead in minutes if you inhale helium in its purest state. The woman believes that those who are terminally ill should be granted the same right to die and be put out of their misery as we give animals, and I totally agree. It just seems so insanely inhumane to let people suffer while people are quick to label those who would dare let an animal suffer as mean and cruel.

The funny part was that I posted the link to the article and wrote “Go granny go!” on it. Well, Tammy commented on that with “I don’t know about you? Go Granny Go. You little Sis are mischeivious as ever. Maybe thats what changed things for me, and why I do love you very much.”

Maybe that’s what changed things for her? I don’t get that one. I gotta admit, though, her comment was funny. So was the one she sent after I sent her a quiz in Italian. It’s just one of those Who Were You in Your Last Life things, but she said, “Very funny, sis. How am I supposed to take this quiz?”

I was laughing my ass off the other day at the Klammers. They were getting snowed on and down into the 20s while it was warm and sunny here.

I am so sick of hearing people complain that they have no extra money. Yeah, that’s a bitch, but try not having the money for the things you need. I know we can’t help how we feel about things and how we perceive them to be crisis-wise, but I get tired of hearing people describe the flat tire they got as the “ultimate nightmare” that’s practically the end of the world for them. Really, if a flat tire is so rough on them I’d hate to see them ever walk in the shoes I’ve walked in.

After Tom did the math and all that he estimates we should be back on track by June 3rd. I suppose that’s when the shit will hit the fan again to keep us from getting ahead. It’s once we start to climb ahead that shit happens. If this happened every now and then I’d call it bad luck. But when it happens every goddamn time and a clear pattern emerges I can only call it what it is – something hell-bent on holding us back.

I have already given up the fantasy of owning even the simplest of houses whether it’s in a rural or retirement setting. The question is where we want to spend our lives struggling and in whose little dive.

Tom still insists there’s the potential to make serious money with my writing, but as I told him, I’m still a nobody.

“But all somebodies were once nobodies too,” he pointed out.

True, but it all comes down to fate, and you know what that means for me. I’m not going to give up, though, either way, because being a writer isn’t just what I do, it’s who I am. I even got an idea to try to help promote my book and that was to send a steamy clip from it to that erotica site I submitted a few clips to in the past and include the link at the end of it with a note saying that if they liked the clip they could consider buying the book it came from. Those stories get hundreds of views a day. My first one already has over 32,000 views. I don’t recall anything in their rules about not submitting links, so we’ll see.

THURSDAY, APRIL 28, 2011 I realize things have to get done around here no matter what schedule I’m on, and I appreciate Jesse helping Tom by bulldozing most of the weeds, but I don’t appreciate being woken up by the damn thing either. So when I’m on nights I’ll have to remember to sleep with the sound machine really cranked up and an earplug since he’s obviously going to make a career of coming down here every day.

My allergies have been on a roll so I had to take Benadryl which makes me really drowsy. I was also on a roll with my book, but don’t know how much I’ll get done tonight until the side effects wear off.

It’s been dry and summery in the daytime and chilly really early in the morning. Trying to sleep on Sunday is going to be tough because we’re to be in the mid-70s. We’ll need the cooler that day for sure, and I’ll have to remember to crack the window before I crash.

I chatted with Nane yesterday while she was at work, and Christine checked my blog, but still no Maliheh. There have been tons of tornadoes in the south that have killed over 300 people, but nothing in NC lately. My guess is she’s backing off because of my crush which is anything but mutual. That’s ok, though. I’m too busy for regular chatter and after a few days of it, I do tend to start getting tired of it. I realize she may’ve picked up the other card but I just might not have been notified. I was never notified when Nane picked up hers.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 27, 2011 Life may still suck and we may still be forever “sentenced” to a life filled mostly with struggles and hopeless dreams, but today I feel better than I have in several days.

Tom called when their offices opened and was surprised to get through right away. He learned there was a delay in the processing, but the money will be sent today so that much is good to know. Over the next two weeks, we should have everything we’re owed since he filed for Unemployment.

So after my allergies woke me up and I put a Breathe Rite strip on my nose and popped a Benadryl, I was able to sleep more peacefully than I had in a while.

Jesse came down on the ATV when Tom was out weeding. That’s two days in a row now. Is this going to be a regular habit of his?

TUESDAY, APRIL 26, 2011 Nothing from Maliheh (I wonder if she lost power again), but I got a quick note from Christine saying she was swamped with work since she was out on jury duty.

I was also delighted to hear from Nane, who was cracking up over the “German omelet” thing. I was telling her how Tom told me Apple’s keyboards do umlauts which sounded like omelets.

She said that the guy she’s been seeing has been hogging up so much of her time that she’s been neglecting friends and family and isn’t sure she likes that yet, but is enjoying things while they last.

As I told her, good things usually do come to an end so enjoy them while they last. Meanwhile, I told her to tell him he’s got envious competition. :) And that I’ll outlast him. I’ll just be doing it from a 6000-mile distance, LOL.

I also dropped hints about writing a story with a character based on her but not with her name, of course, just to see how she takes to the idea.

She was telling me that Nane is Turkish for peppermint and how she thought that was pretty neat. I know it’s also Italian for nannies.

And I was telling her how shitty our lives are and how hopeless things seem.

The money still hasn’t been sent. The federal government just threatened the state government to quit fucking around with those on Unemployment or else! But I guess they don’t give a damn and are still taking their sweet time getting the initial checks out. To hell with anyone whose rent may be due in a few days.

As I told Tom, I’m getting sicker and sicker of this shit by the day. I’m not going to make a career out of “fighting” to live.

Some have commended me for not sugar-coating my life and for being honest about when things aren’t going well. Others say I complain too much. Well, it doesn’t matter what others think. Only what I think. And I think I’m sick of struggling. I didn’t come here to work really hard just to be the equivalent of a welfare bum. That means that no, Tom didn’t get the job. This time he tried to get the temp agency to tell him why, but all they would say was that they “went with the other candidate.” Let me guess – the other candidate was young, not white, or both, right? Only they’re not going to say so, so we can sue their asses and end our money problems the easy way.

Jesse was down on the ATV along with someone in a truck which Tom thinks might’ve been his brother. They got something from the shit pile, but fortunately I slept through it.

Wrote the first two chapters last night of my next book, A Rainbow in Munich, and got my second win. It’s only lotion, though.

The rat’s new game is to take my hair down. I knot it at the nape of my neck and he slowly works it out. Because it’s so long it takes him a few minutes, but he’s gotten quite good at it, LOL.

MONDAY, APRIL 25, 2011 Tom had the interview today, and while everything at least “appeared” to go smoothly, it’s not looking good now. It’s a big building but a small company which is run by an older couple. They said they’d call the temp company today, and Tom called them too, but no one’s called to say he got the job. They did say something about the boss being out at the moment and how she was the one with the final say, so it’s possible that she just didn’t make it back yet. Possible, but unlikely.

We still don’t know if it’s his age or what. Just because they’re older themselves doesn’t mean they want to hire older people. Or it could just be that whatever’s got us cursed so badly is going to make sure no one hires him no matter what. I still say it’s too soon for us. Our problems simply don’t go away this fast. Meaning, he won’t have a job before the fall.

All we’ve done since coming here nearly 4 years ago is struggle. I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea of being broke for the rest of our lives and always renting dumpy old trailers, but I just don’t know if I can do it. Some things we just can’t adapt to, and I don’t think I can ever “get good” at being poor. I didn’t come here to be a bum. Period. I didn’t come here to have life treat us as if we were nothing but lazy, undeserving people who deserve absolutely no better in life.

Tom keeps saying that the only reason we’re going through this shit is because of the economy. But we’ve suffered on account of other things in the past as well. It’s like something up there uses whatever it can to get at us. If it’s not freeloaders using the law against us, it’s health problems. If it’s not wild neighbors, it’s money. But ever since finally breaking free of the freeloader’s grip in 2003, it’s been mostly money we’ve been beaten over the head with.

The rent’s due in less than a week and we have not one penny toward it. Tom said we’re getting paid even though we haven’t received the money yet, and while Jesse may have no choice but to bear with us and keep on being the understanding guy he says he is, what if he runs out of patience since he’s struggling himself now that he’s out of work, too? It takes 30 days to evict someone in this state and that’s some consolation. And so is knowing that being here 3 years and being good tenants has got to mean at least a little something to him. It’s knowing that our lives are never going to change from here on out that’s the problem. The longer things stay the same the less likely they are to change.

Killing ourselves around the first would be the perfect time to go. As I told Tom, I no longer want our own house, but I don’t want to struggle in dives for the rest of my life either. If we killed ourselves next month, neither of us would have to die alone. We wouldn’t have to live to get old and deal with all the health problems that would bring. We wouldn’t have to worry about being thrown in some state-run nursing home by people who will only abuse us.

The only way to escape this curse and not spend so much time struggling, stressing and living in misery is through death. I’m getting more and more convinced of this. If I can’t have a reasonably happy life without constant money worries, then I don’t want to live. Not if all whatever’s up there wants to do is treat me like shit and see that I spend the bulk of my life suffering.

Again, that’s really sweet of Dad to offer to help, but he’s not going to be around forever to run to and our problems are getting more and more frequent. And more severe.

Our lives will never get better and I know it.

I’m wondering if Maliheh’s lost power again. She hasn’t picked up the second card I sent a couple of days ago, nor have I heard from her.

Nane’s been on Facebook less and less and I have to wonder about myself at times. How is it I’ve come to be so hot for someone halfway around the world whom I’ll never meet? Am I really missing sex with someone I lust for and who wants to have sex with me and not for me? Then again, I never really had much of that to miss, did I? Another thing I can thank our lovely God for or whatever the hell it is that’s so hell-bent on holding me back in most areas of life. I jokingly told Nane she just needs to bug me with 20 messages a day to get herself out of my system.

She’ll fade in time. They always do. But then a new crush will come to replace her and on goes the endless cycle of fun and frustrating little crushes.

I really thought Nane would check in from work like usual, but just because she hasn’t posted anything on her wall doesn’t mean she hasn’t at least read messages.

Christine’s done with jury duty. It was a home invasion thing where a group of people killed one person and left another in a wheelchair for life. They were found guilty on all charges. Now let’s hope Ohio has the death penalty. :)

Why is it that I have a very strong feeling that if I were ever murdered the killer would go unpunished? And God just might let them win the lottery while they were at it, too.

What does it matter, though? At the rate we’re going, I’m going to be my own murderer.

SUNDAY, APRIL 24, 2011 My sister sent a message saying she hopes we’re doing better, and “happy bunny day.” Happy ratty day instead, I told her. Tom and I are about as religious as a doorknob, LOL.

We looked online at the place where Tom has an interview tomorrow. It’s a huge building and the grounds are beautiful. There’s even a playground for those with kids (I guess they do daycare, too) and a jogging trail. The pay may not be as good but the benefits are awesome. Too awesome for us, I’m afraid. I just can’t see us being blessed with such a job for him, but hopefully he’ll at least get to be a temp for a few months if nothing else.

They say most of us are cursed in 1 of the 3 main areas of life – love, health and money. Well, to say that I am truly loved is the understatement of the century. I have a man that loves and accepts me as I am. Every ability and every imperfection I behold is loved, cherished and accepted. Then as a bonus, I have friends, cyber friends, family and family-like friends who also love me. Not like Tom loves me, but they love me, and some even have a little lust for me. winks

I’ve also been blessed in the health department since I quit smoking in 1997 with the exception of a set of pretty fucked up teeth that need to be knocked out and replaced with fakes, and the fact that I’ve been waking up with backaches and congestion lately. Snap your fingers and I can run a few miles at just about any given moment. Snap them again and I can throw myself on the floor and do hundreds of crunches.

As for the financial zone; I have been all over the scale. A rich kid who’s a sometimes fairly affluent adult and also sometimes dirt poor and fears she always will be dirt poor from here on out. As I’ve said before, not having much extra money isn’t such a big deal to me anymore. It’s when I have to wonder if we can pay for the necessities that I have a problem.

Tom read an article about how those who have had lots of change throughout their lives are the most likely to continue to have changes along with greater odds of success later on in life. It went on to mention writers and painters who didn’t have success till their 40s, 50s, and even 60s. Well, unlike many people – perhaps even most – who have had the same jobs, homes, phone numbers, love lives, etc. for a million years, we have certainly traveled and lived in many places, learned a lot of things, and have had many a fun adventure and experiences with a few disasters sprinkled in.

At the same time, I have often felt stuck in a rut and that’s pretty much how I feel right now – like things will never change. I am still just as cursed as I am blessed, and just as blessed as I am cursed.

For now, we have our fingers crossed for tomorrow, even if it seems “too soon” for our luck to turn around. He probably won’t know anything tomorrow either way, though. I had a slight vibe earlier about him starting on Wednesday, but my dreams have been more accurate than my vibes lately. So let’s hope I don’t have any nightmares tonight.

SATURDAY, APRIL 23, 2011 Made my third book sale! It can’t be from Andy because his computer’s being repaired, so this may be my first “stranger” sale. It’s frustrating that Amazon doesn’t have a tracker so I can at least see what state/country the sale came from. Either way, I’m glad to have made another sale. :)

Tom has an interview Monday morning for an assembly job here in town. You know how it is, though. Our problems aren’t usually just for hours or days but for months or years, so although I do have a good feeling about it, I’m not counting on anything.

Got a box with $11 in spare change from my folks (presumably from their store), and a couple of flower barrettes. One’s bright yellow and the other’s green with glitter. That was very nice of them.

The Belgium winner finally paid for the toy they won, so we won’t have to complain on them on Monday.

Heard from Maliheh yesterday. She was just 500’ away from losing her place. I’m glad she and her house are ok and that she didn’t end up losing work after all.

Jesse drove me nuts with the motorcycle yesterday. He was obviously having a problem with it, so every matter of minutes he’d gun the fucking thing till he finally got it running. You know how that is too – it doesn’t matter if it’s half a dozen freeloaders or one single older person. As long as it’s our neighbor it must be noisy.

I finished my story last night. :) After Alison read the last chapter she said she’s read enough of my stories for the ending not to be too surprising, but would’ve had “Tesla” get arrested for her outstanding warrant so Nane could bail her out, and then have trouble ensue from there.

I thought to myself, what a damn good idea! So I added another chapter and edited that into the ending.

Speaking of Nane, I’ve got some seriously mixed emotions about this new guy she met. I’m happy for her, of course, but I miss her all the more because she’s not on Facebook as much. She used to be on it on weekends, but now she just comes in once or twice during the week from work. She just needs to bug me with 20 messages a day to get herself out of my system, LOL.

I sometimes wish I could stop lusting for those I’ll never meet, but they do make for fun fantasies and great story ideas. In fact, I have a few ideas in mind right now that I’ve been mapping out. I’m just not sure which one(s) I should develop.

THURSDAY, APRIL 21, 2011 Got my first win in 3 years! It was only a coupon for a free pouch of StarKist tuna, but a win is a win. They just need to keep getting bigger and bigger till they equal thousands of dollars once again.

The other night I dreamt I moved to Florida. Only problem is I was moving from Arizona with my parents. I guess they came to get me or something.

Tom said, “Well, as we know, the details of your dreams don’t always matter. It’s the positive message behind them that counts.”

I still don’t see us ever having the money to move there even though the idea of a tropical climate is appealing to me more and more.

In some ways, I feel like I’m in the same prison I was in as a kid. Stuck where I’m at with no foreseeable way out anytime soon.

Last night I dreamt he called me from work, wherever work was supposed to be.

The only disturbing dreams I’ve been having are these dreams where I’m not in jail, nor in a funny farm, but someplace like them against my will. Perhaps these dreams are just a reminder of the fact that I’m never quite going to be where I want to be in life.

I didn’t realize till now that Marie was following me on Formspring. I congratulated her on her upcoming wedding. Hopefully, life will continue to treat her well and she won’t feel the need to become a pest again, LOL. Just say hello every now and then to let each other know we’re alive and thinking of each other. I could never hate her or not want the best for her no matter how crazy she used to drive me.

It’s no wonder I haven’t heard from Christine. She’s been busy with jury duty. She said she’s not supposed to talk about it till it’s over, but it has to do with the worst thing a person can be charged with. Well, I’ll be looking forward to hearing all about this murder case when it’s over.

I still can’t believe they don’t have trained jurors who do nothing but jury duty for a living. There’s just something unnerving about one’s fate being decided by a dozen strangers who were dragged off the streets. Then again, so was having it decided by an old fart donning a black robe who didn’t even know me from a hole in the wall, wasn’t there to actually see the shit I went through as it was happening, etc. Some people are naturally going to be biased no matter what they do/don’t see. They just won’t always admit it and might not even realize it themselves.

Nane didn’t message me or anything like that but she “poked” me for the first time. I asked her where she poked me when she poked me, LOL.

She tends to count down the days till her vacations, and she wrote “23” in Turkish on her wall. I had to look up what it meant, but in response to it I wrote, “Und morgen ist 22!”

The fuckers in Belgium don’t seem to want to pay for the toy, so we’ll soon be filing a complaint with eBay.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20, 2011 LOL, I just entered a sweep that lets you refer friends and enclose a message as well. So I sent one to Molly and said, "Dear Mrs. M, you’re not very bright for a teacher if you haven’t yet figured out that while you have my site blocked on Molly’s computer, you don’t have it blocked on your own. Please see your daughter for what she is so she can get the proper help she needs to stop her voyeuristic ways."

The troll hasn’t written in her blog in several days which isn’t like her. This makes me think she’s moved on to yet another new account.

Tom debated on whether or not to stop admitting he is qualified as a manager because many companies are afraid to hire them for menial jobs. So then he started applying for positions that actually want managers. Only they pay $18 an hour and I can’t believe anything up there would be nice enough to let him have a job that paid that much. It’s almost gotten to the point where I’m wary of good things happening to us. Where good things should be our compensation for bad things that have happened, we seem to be punished for those good things instead.

Right now he’s off to Roseville for an evaluation test for an assembly job. I know better than to get my hopes up, for chances are it’s just another dry run. If he still has trouble getting a job after he stops telling everyone he was a manager, then it’s got to be age or color discrimination for sure. That was one of my first guesses. It’s a youth’s market out there, and non-whites get first dibs on just about everything these days.

The sweeps are still looking hopeless, but I’m entering as many as I can.

Jesse took off at around 7:30 this morning and there were a few barks since it was cold and early, but nothing like when he leaves at night or used to leave at 5am.

Tom just got back, saying the test was super easy. All you had to do was put 5 numbers in order. And now all we have to do is hope we didn’t just spend $7 on gas for nothing.

TUESDAY, APRIL 19, 2011 Electronic welfare bums, I love it, LOL. We thought we were going to have to go apply for assistance in person and that it’d be an all-day thing, but it turns out that these days you can apply online. So we applied for whatever medical and food stamp assistance we could get. That should be about $210 a month in food stamps, but who knows what medical-wise?

It’s going to take a month or so, and God do I wish we could tell them thanks, but no thanks because he’s got a job! But I know life would never be that easy for us. I also wish we’d known about this when he first got laid off the first time. Had we known about this and MT, life would’ve been a lot easier. We just had no idea we qualified for assistance. No idea at all.

Today I’ve been productive as far as cleaning and working goes, but wasting time in my imagination on Nane. It’s so pointless, I know, but I can’t help but be so damn hot for her!

Molly still views my blog almost every day, but lately it’s just 1-3 times a day. Someone in Dallas, TX finds the Maricopa part of my bio quite fascinating. They even checked out the first part of Oregon.

MONDAY, APRIL 18, 2011 No wonder I haven’t heard much from Maliheh. She nearly lost her house in a tornado! A record number of 63 tornados went through NC and some people were killed. I didn’t hear any mention of Fayetteville, though, so I thought she was ok. But there was a message waiting from her when I got up.

How terrifying that must’ve been! I hope she doesn’t lose her place. I’d be willing to pawn my iMac to help get her out here if she needed a place to stay.

It occurred to me that nothing like that could ever just sneak up on us. I’d have nightmares galore the night before even if they had nothing to do with tornadoes.

The people on eBay sure are strange. The toy we listed sold for $12, plus a fortune in shipping since it’s going all the way to Belgium. But last time around no one wanted the damn thing, LOL.

Anyway, not much going on today. It’s cold and rainy. AGAIN. It’s never warm for long around here so it seems.

I’m taking a break for a cup of soup, then it’s back to work.

SUNDAY, APRIL 17, 2011 Got back from Kmart, which Sears owns, a little while ago. I returned with a 4-pack of satin string bikini panties, 2 glittery bottles of nail polish, a new set of sheets in lavender, and a few 99-cent smellies. Cucumber-melon, Sexy Musk and New Musk. I also got candy and soda.

Tom read an article yesterday about a new prescription medication for people with my kind of sleep disorder and I guess instead of adding melatonin to the body it somehow enhances the melatonin you’ve got. As he said, it used to be hard to find any information on this type of sleep disorder, so to see an article about it tells us it’s getting more widely recognized.

SATURDAY, APRIL 16, 2011 Every day I awake to a blank canvas of white upon which to tell a story. Only my canvas is that of a computer screen and not the rough material of a traditional canvas. Instead of brushstrokes, it is keystrokes that tell my story. The story of my day-to-day life. Sometimes that story is sad. Sometimes it is uplifting. And other times it is thought-provoking.

What appeals to me most about writing more than anything else I’ve ever had an interest in is the fact that there’s the potential to go from good to great. I got to be a good singer, but nothing can ever make me a great singer. I was a good dancer, but in this day and age, nothing can ever make me a great dancer despite being pretty fit. Even though I have a knack for languages my Spanish can never go from good to great because I will never live in a Spanish-speaking country where I have no choice but to use it regularly. But age, environment and money have no discrimination when it comes to the art of writing. I may never be the best writer in the world, but someday I will be a great writer. And someday I just may take Eileen’s advice who pointed out that I’m doing this ALL on my own and that while I’m a good writer, why not take some creative writing courses if I’m open to constructive criticism? I can only get better if I do. For now, though, I have Mitch, and he is a fine writing mentor who compliments and inspires me when I write well, and who gives me that constructive criticism I need when there’s something I need to improve on.

Being a writer, like many fields within the arts and entertainment area, isn’t just something we do, it’s who we are. And most of us have been at it in some form or another all of our lives.

My journal is my non-judgmental therapist to pour my tears out on as well as my friend to share the good times with, and so I will refrain from apologizing if I’ve sounded down quite a bit lately. Being held back in life and feeling powerless to do much about it other than wait it out and hope it doesn’t last too long or get too rough can be a real stressor. If my journal doesn’t mind what I say, then why worry if my followers might?

I called my parents yesterday to let them know the Magic Jack would expire and that it would be a couple of weeks or more before I renewed my subscription. I told them to call the cell if they needed us. Well, I talked to Dad, actually. Mom was at the store. He said I should’ve called and told them and they would’ve paid for it, and that anytime I need money I should let them know.

I told him that was really sweet of him, but I didn’t want to bother them. He assured me it was ok, that’s what they’re there for, and if they couldn’t help, they’d say so.

It’s kind of sad that Tom’s family really put a complex on me so badly as far as reaching out to others for help after they so cruelly abandoned us in the past, but a part of me is also glad I didn’t ask for help. For one, they have enough of their own shit to deal with, and I also know I can’t run to them for help forever.

I didn’t even tell him we’ve been out of propane. Not literally, but we can’t afford to have the main tank filled because they have a 100-gallon minimum and that costs a couple of hundred bucks. Instead, we’ve been alternating between a couple of 5-gallon tanks, taking showers every day and a half instead of every day, and washing dishes/clothes in cold water. It’s lasting longer now that it’s been warmer.

I also didn’t tell him that we’re not starving, but we’re eating as cheap as we can and doing without the extras that we don’t need like soda.

What I did tell him was that we really, really appreciate the $25 IHOP card they sent and the $50 Sears card. We need new sheets and underwear, so the Sears card really helps out.

“If some people can be blessed in some areas of life, why can’t they be cursed in some areas, too?” I asked Tom. “What if we’re just forever financially cursed no matter what we do? What if this is it? What if it’s actually safe to say that if things are this bad at our age, they always will be? What if owning even the simplest, most ordinary house is just a dream, and what if we’re forever stuck in this tiny old trailer with its doors that don’t stay open on their own, its lack of space, and its floors without insulation that they’re so cold to walk on in the winter even with socks? Really, we live like bums yet we have done everything within our power to try to help ourselves better our lives. So what if it’s hopeless?”

But he got me to see that this world recession that’s going on is a very extraordinary situation that won’t last forever and it’s not something up there that’s picking on us even though it sure seems that way at times and like things will never change. He also got me to see that getting laid off under ordinary circumstances doesn’t automatically mean you’d lose your house if you had one since you’re usually only laid off for a couple of months. Then I remembered that he did get laid off shortly after we were married and we never lost the Phoenix house. He also reminded me that had we been smarter about Maricopa and not gotten such a big place that we couldn’t really afford, we’d still be there, even though we both came to hate many things about Arizona.

He may have a point, but I still worry that somehow, someway, no matter what we do, we’ll always be struggling.

I’m still entering sweeps even though that’s not looking promising at all. Things just aren’t what they used to be where that’s concerned. If I ever won big, Miss Hates to Travel is going to visit friends and family for sure, including my best cyber friends.

Anyway, after getting groceries and talking with Dad and Nane, I was in better spirits.

Nane said it’s a little late, she knows, but she is reading my book and congratulated me again for getting it published.

Instead of being flattered, I felt embarrassed and said, “Not the copy with the errors, I hope!” Then I emailed her the corrected copy.

She thanked me; though she assured me she didn’t mind spelling errors and probably wouldn’t even notice. Perhaps not if your first language isn’t English. Then again, her English isn’t bad at all. Some natives don’t speak/write it as well as she does.

She likes my sense of humor and we have fun with our usual jokes and nicknames for each other. I told her the story of how we “met” and explained how Tom read an article saying that if your native language is English, German would be the easiest to learn, even if I half agree with it. She told me how she ended up in NYC. She met this guy in Frankfurt she was with for two years. After he got out of the army he couldn’t find work, so his mother in NYC got them jobs there. She worked for Wall Street which is pretty big bucks. She was 23 at the time and I was 18 and right next door in MA. If only we’d known!

I’m glad I didn’t dump her, and I know this may sound silly as hell, but I feel like we grew closer than ever for some reason yesterday. And it may also sound silly to say it made me feel really good, but it did. :)

I’m hearing less and less from Maliheh and still I wonder if I’ve got anything to do with it or not. It’s like she’s slowly pulling away. If that’s what she wants, then ok. I enjoyed the time we had. I think it’s time to give her a taste of her own medicine, though, if I do hear from her again, and not be so quick to respond right away. Let her wait for me for once.

The fucking dogs drove me crazy last night. I slept till midnight and figured Jesse would be home by then, but no such luck. They didn’t shut up for another hour and I wasn’t sure if it was because the prick finally got home or if the dogs had simply exhausted themselves. If he left at 7:30 like he usually does, I’d be pretty exhausted too if I barked for 5 or 6 hours.

This morning the damn cock was doing his little engine gunning and running routine, though I think it may’ve been the motorcycle. It’s like he’s idling the damn thing longer before he takes off.

Not surprisingly, Tom “ran” into him at the fork when he was putting the trash up. He was either coming or going and mentioned cleaning the cooler and getting it ready for the heat that can’t get here fast enough. Tom said I was on nights now and asked that he wait till next week and he said he would.

FRIDAY, APRIL 15, 2011 Later on this morning I’ll call my folks and let them know their loser of a daughter is about to lose her phone, so they’ll need to call one of the two cells if they want to get a hold of me. As part of my learning to accept the shitty hand the bastard in the sky (or whatever it is) is so determined to deal to me time and time again, I’m trying to focus on the good in losing the phone and not on how much it pisses me off to have to keep on losing this or giving up that. I would prefer to leave my computer on when I’m going to sleep when it’s light out and when the lights on the keyboard and the MJ’s power box can’t annoy me like they would at night. The phone could also ring and wake me up if the computer’s left on. And since things have to get more and more complicated with time, there’s no simple on/off switch for the ringer, and I can’t simply take it off the hook. But now I won’t have to worry about that for a while. The Magic Jack also has a delay in relay and an occasional echo.

I can’t believe I spent most of my childhood and some of my 20s dreaming of moving to California only to end up stuck here in my 40s and hating almost every minute of it. A part of me still wants to scream and cry at the thought of spending many more years or even the rest of my life in this dumpy little trailer. But I think the more we fix it up and make it our home instead of just Jesse’s old trailer, the less I’ll want to leave it after putting so much time into making all the changes. Unless you can buy it outright, it’s just not safe to own a house. One firing or layoff – just one – and you could lose that house or that nicer, more expensive rental in a heartbeat.

By throwing away my dream I then have no dreams to either not be able to achieve or to achieve and lose. Besides, there’s really nothing to “throw away” because it’s not up to me to begin with.

And so every time I long to be in a normal house with adequate space and newer features, I remind myself that it’s better than prison, jail, funny farms, concentration camps, apartments or the streets. It’s even better than an apartment building for old folks only. I’m not stupid. I know that if I lived in one of these places the person above us would have unruly grandkids visiting regularly, the person below us would be obsessed with slamming doors, and the person next to us would be so deaf they blast their TV. Yeah, I know how these things work.

Other than this thing that’s had an obsession with seeing that I’m stuck everywhere I don’t want to be and unable to stay where I do want to be since I was around 15 years old, the weather is improving. We had our last cold day a couple of days ago. Now it’s time to pull the comforter off and put the thin blanket on, though it’ll still be getting cold at night for a while. It won’t be until mid-June before we can have windows open all the time.

So the few trees around here that lose their leaves in the fall are sprouting new leaves and there are baby birds in the nest on the porch. And if they bring Tom a job, it will also be around the same time we can leave the windows open, but somehow I doubt he’ll get a job before most, if not all, of the summer is over.

THURSDAY, APRIL 14, 2011 I miss the beach. I don’t know why. Ocean’s stink, the water’s salty, seaweed’s kind of gross, jellyfish make my skin crawl, walking on sand isn’t easy, and stepping on pointy edges of shells or driftwood doesn’t tickle. Chances are, though, I’ll never see any of it again, so that’s another thing I can forget about.

Tom and I both agreed that instead of buying a place or fixing this place up if I suddenly won 20K, we’d get the hell out of California even if it meant having to go to a place that was cold and snowy. And that’s probably what it would take to better our lives, cursed or not. We’ve been here nearly 4 years now yet he STILL can’t get a permanent job. We spend so damn much of the time being cold enough here anyway that a climate worse than this might be worth it in order to break this horrible cycle we’ve been on for so long.

But I’m almost certainly not going to win 20K and so we’re stuck here. And God knows how many more years things will be as shitty as they have been. I honestly think it will be over a decade before the economy recovers.

What’s both good and disappointing is that the Beanie Babies sold which means less stuff in the way, but they only sold for $37. We were really hoping for $50 - $75, even though we didn’t list the more valuable ones in this batch.

We have a toy I won years ago (a talking animal) up for a buck and it’s got a watcher so maybe it will sell. Meanwhile, we’re so fucking poor I’ll have to call my folks and let them know I’m going to lose the Magic Jack phone since we don’t even have $20 to spare right now to renew it. We’ve got two cells, though, and it’s not like I use the MJ phone much.

Just two days back into exercising and I can already feel a difference in my tummy. I’m still not dieting, but someday I’ll get back on with that, too.

Mitch finally made a sale on Smashwords. :) I’ll definitely take his advice and publish with them too, but not until things settle down a bit here if they ever do.

There are baby birds in the other nest at the other end of the porch now, too. I don’t know if it’s a different family or if Mama Bird moved her babies into this nest. Somehow I doubt they move their babies around.

It hurts to walk on the kitchen and bathroom floors even with socks, that’s how cold it got last night. There’s absolutely no insulation in these floors, none in the so-called roof, and probably very little in the walls. But again, we ain’t getting out of here for a long, long time to come. Might as well try to focus on the good in it – no neighbors attached to us!

Nane really is a fun friend even if she’s not around much of the time. We have our games we play (like what scent I’m wearing) and our nicknames for each other. She’s Goddess Nane and I’m Lady Jodi, even if she doesn’t always spell my name correctly.

I started making my own “hugs” and she thought it was neat and asked how I did it. I told her and she did an ocean scene after I did a rat, not surprisingly for us, LOL.

I told her of a dirty dream I had of her and said she could tell her BF. She said she better keep quiet about it, then laughed and said she just might tell him after all.

The troll took Tuesday off but viewed my blog 3 times yesterday, and I just hit Larry with this second funny/insulting message. I enclosed a joke for old-time’s sake but was sure to insult him a bit along the way, too. It’ll be interesting to see if he ever tells me to fuck off or blocks me. Then again, he may not want to give me a “reaction” any more than the black bitch wants to, who I make a point of reminding of my existence at least once a year. I’d be willing to bet she saves everything I send. Therefore, she had to have been as pissed as I was when Facebook’s latest round of changes deleted old messages, LOL.

Who else from the past have I “dropped” in on? Oh, just Bruce. He was the conceited cock that was a great guitarist. I knew him in Springfield. I liked his guitar playing but I didn’t like him. He was too judgmental but not nearly as bad as Al was. Al was the verbal equivalent of a wife-beater. I even gave him the link to the part of my bio where I mention him, even if it was just one paragraph, LOL. He followed the link but didn’t reply as I both hoped and expected. I just like to surprise people at times. :)

Adonis, my faithful follower with the annoyingly shitty English, said he too, had been thinking about my “preparation” theory. He’s kind of philosophical too, and said what if I’m actually being prepared for riches?

So late in life? I doubt it. I once hoped that my curses would one day be compensated, but each year that passes and I see they aren’t, I give up hope on that one.

Tom said some may think I had it easy just for not having to work out of the house.

Yeah, that’s a definite blessing. But is that blessing why we’re so cursed? Or was I given the sleep disorder as a means of holding us back? After all, I’d be out there working too, if transportation and schedules weren’t an issue, even if I didn’t like it.

Tom said he thinks it’s harder for me because I didn’t grow up poor like he did. It almost makes me wish I had, though, as sad as it may sound. Then maybe I’d be “good” at being poor. Don’t worry, I’ll be a good little bum and roll with the punches sooner or later. I already realized and acknowledged that we’re destined to spend most of our lives struggling. Acceptance will come, probably sooner than even he thinks. I’ve had financial problems almost all of my adult life so it really is nothing new. The only new twist is that starting in Oregon, but mostly starting in Cali in 2007, it went beyond just not having extra money and became a struggle to pay for the necessities as well.

OMG, though! God is going to allow us enough food to eat this week! But wait. Just what exactly did Tom and Jodi S do to deserve the right to eat this week??? Hell, I thought we deserved a little starvation mixed into the shitty hand He keeps dealing us. After all, we’re just a couple of worthless losers who try too hard to get ahead, aren’t we?

Later…

OMG, this is so fucking funny! It’s nice to be able to laugh for once, too. To send feedback on my-diary you have to give your email addy. Or at least most people think you do. As long as the @ symbol is present and you use a real carrier, you could send it from fuckyou@yahoo.com if you wanted to. Someone wrote “You have no life” in regard to the first part of my bio. Well, another thing a lot of folks don’t know is that you can search FB for any users signed up with a particular email addy. So I ran the addy on FB, which is in Sunnyvale, CA, and up came a person with the same name as in the addy. I was a little surprised at who I saw in the profile pic, even though anyone could’ve sent the feedback. Usually, such comments come from kids. Not from what appears to be a woman in her 40s. I sent her a message thanking her for her feedback on MD and let her know that I already figured out years ago that I had no life. Oh, and to have a nice day. :) ROTFL! She is going to be one shocked lady! LMAO!

It’s funny in itself, but hopefully it’ll keep her from being a potential troll. As soon as I “called out” that Canadian troll on MO it disappeared really fast. Guess that’s what you get for fucking with a savvy net nut. :)))))))

TUESDAY, APRIL 12, 2011 We have now been in this little old trailer for 3 years. 3 years and counting. Acceptance is getting a little easier, but it’s one of those things that will take time and that will happen little by little. I just remind myself – whenever I start to feel saddened or angry – that there are worse places to spend the rest of our lives in. Much worse.

Death may be the only escape from the curse we’re under, but I really believe that the best way to deal with it while we are alive and the best way to lead a happier life is to just make the best of what we can do/have and stop trying to turn dreams and fantasies into the reality they can never be. So I’m going to keep the list I made up handy of all the things I want to do to fix this place up as time and money permits and make it our home. I think the more we personalize it and remodel it to our tastes and comfort, the happier I’ll be. Maybe we can even add on another bathroom eventually. The clearing that this trailer is on is narrow and so we’re limited as to how much outside space we have as well as inside. It will take many thousands of dollars and many years, assuming we make it through this latest ordeal, but it’s a hell of a lot safer and smarter than continuing on with this stupid fantasy that we could one day own a house and not lose it. Why pay to fix things that break and worry like crazy about losing them until we actually do? Just one lay-off or firing is all it takes to lose a place, and just about all jobs will eventually let you go for some reason or the other. Very few people ever work at the same place till they retire. It may be easier and tempting to want to run to a bigger, newer place if we ever could, but how could I enjoy it if all we’re going to do is stress and struggle to maintain it? We do enough of that right here in what’s just about the cheapest place you can get for being in California.

This is where we live. This is where we stay. This is what’s meant to be.

Don’t know if the Beanies are going to sell or not yet. They’re getting a hell of a lot more views than the last small lot we tried to sell, but in my experience the more we need money the less likely we are to get it.

At least I sold another copy of my book and Eileen’s going to leave a review. I asked her to, since it couldn’t hurt, but only if she likes it, of course, and she said she’d be happy to. Her mother’s going to read it, too. LOL, it’s a good thing we Jews tend to be more liberal.

I’m not going to bother dieting, but I’ve gone back to working out. No need to fall out of shape just because I don’t care right now that I’ve got too many pounds and inches to my name, is there? But why my weight hasn’t kept climbing and climbing is a mystery to me. At this height and age you, can’t just eat like a normal person. But I’ve been eating quite “normally” at 1500-2000 calories a day and being as lazy as can be. I’m not saying I’ll never diet again. I’m just not in the mood to put added pressure on myself until and if our finances get so bad that I’m forced to go hungry. I’m more focused on saving money right now, and part of that means buying cheap food that tends to be higher in calories.

I’m doing arm, ab and leg exercises which take about 15 minutes. Then I’m running 4 minutes every hour for about 10 hours. My screensaver is set to blackout every two minutes, so I’m doing two “blackouts” per hour.

I got a clever idea earlier to take a spring hook off an old purse strap and attach it to my robe. This way I just hook it to the belt loop instead of having to use the belt which only keeps slipping loose.

Again I’m wondering if Nane’s worth keeping as a friend. I’d just hate to dump her and end up regretting it. I reached out to her about a week ago when I was feeling blue and wanted to chat. I realized she could be busy and it’s not like she’s obligated to cheer me up or anything like that, but the least she could’ve done was at least answer the damn message once she finally got back on Facebook which is where I sent it. She just got back from what I could tell, but she’s completely blown me off. I expected a reply or one of her “hugs” or something, but I’ve received absolutely nothing. Makes me also wonder if I should share a certain story with her. :) She did, however, let me know that my book is $3.44 in US dollars in Germany. So almost half a buck more there.

No troll today. I’m surprised. I’m also wondering how long she can stand to go before she does something to try to make me discuss her in my blog which is exactly what she wants.

Later…

I see myself hurrying down the curvy dirt drive and out to the main road. My heart trembles with fear yet with determination as I wait for the next vehicle to round the corner at 45MPH. When it does I refuse to let myself chicken out. I bravely hurl my body in front of it, allowing the impact of the vehicle to smash the life out of me.

Gone are the money worries. Gone are the lost dreams. Gone is the pain.

And then I snap out of this scary yet appealing fantasy given how shitty my life is right now, and reality hits me in the face like a bowling ball.

I don’t have the guts to kill myself. The only thing that’s going to give me the guts to actually do it would be if anything happened to Tom or things got to the point that they were literally unbearable and there was simply no way to survive.

I wish I could know what dying would be like for me and what – if anything – awaited me on the other side. Knowing this may or may not give me the guts it would take to kill myself before things got a chance to get to the point of no return, though it’s true that Tom is another big reason I still exist. He’s a pretty independent guy who could get along just fine on his own. But I know he’d be sad and lonely without me. The older we are, the less likely we are to find someone to settle down with, especially if we’re not very sociable to begin with. So if I died now and he lived another 30 years, that’s a long time to be alone.

Will things ever get unbearable? Well, obviously we can’t live forever no matter what happens. So yeah, eventually Tom’s going to die and I’m going to kill myself if nothing happens before then to cause me to die first or us to die together.

And then another theory popped into mind that got me wondering about something. I assumed all these spells we’ve been going through where we’re teased with our survival were strictly to punish us. But what if it’s something more? Is it preparation of some kind? Back when I was hauled into Florence Jail I got the distinct feeling something was trying to prepare me for something. It was. Six months of hard county time in Phoenix. So if this truly is a preparation of some kind, then what could it be for? Is it trying to “toughen” me up and help get me gutsy enough to kill myself with or without Tom?

“I’m almost 54 years old and things have always worked out,” Tom told me the other day. “So there’s no reason not to think it won’t work out this time, too.”

Ah, but they say there’s a first time for everything.

MONDAY, APRIL 11, 2011 I dreamt that Tom got a call for a job. I don’t know if he got the job, but he got called for one. Although I didn’t wake up feeling as blue as I have been these last several days, this doesn’t mean I think or feel he’ll get a job anytime soon. Unfortunately, most of the dreams I have that come true are the bad ones. He’ll probably get calls on and off for the next few months, but you know our setbacks last longer than just a few weeks. Even so, Tom’s thinking of leaving out the fact that he was a manager in the past. Since all he can get are menial temp jobs, having that on his record is a very bad thing since no one wants to hire managers for shit jobs, and he’s not going to tell them, “Hey, I’m so desperate I’ll take any job.” The tough part is not only finding a job, regardless of pay but finding one in town so he doesn’t have to drive forever. Especially since gas prices are getting out of hand again.

“Do recycled bird’s nests still count as bringing good luck?” I asked Tom the other day. After all, it is a used nest they’re using out on the porch. He assures me they probably had to remodel somewhat. Well, we’ll see what happens over the next few months and if it’s still a “lucky” thing or not.

We listed 100 Beanie Babies on eBay starting at $24.99. Again, a true test of just how cursed we may or may not be at the moment.

Our connection has been slow as hell. Maybe in a few more years or so, we can get reliable service out here without having to play phone with them all day every few months and beg them to give us the speed we’re paying for.

Christine has been sick with a fever so that’s why I haven’t heard much from her. Hopefully, she’s better now.

Molly’s back to viewing my blog. Yeah, I knew she would be. Houston, TX viewed me too, and when I see anything Texas I always wonder if there’s a connection. Especially when it’s a direct jump.

Anyway, it’s back to not allowing anonymous comments on my blog now that she’s coming around again. In her own blog, she’s written the exact opposite of what she said last time. She’s just back and forth and back and forth like a yo-yo. One entry could say she’s sick of her “friendship” with Alison and she’s not worth bothering with, the next (written just hours later) could be all about how she hopes to earn her trust again and win her friendship over. She’s also swung back the other way with Roman, admitting to harassing him again. She said she’s “not sure” why she can’t stop calling and texting him. Then after claiming to feel oh so loved by fellow thoughts members, now she feels slighted.

People have left comments saying you can’t make people like you, the internet is not real life, and that it’s a waste of time feeling hurt over people online when she should be out meeting people in person.

And it’s all gonna go in one ear and out the other.

She supposedly started a new medication, but I really don’t think all the therapy and medication in the world can help people like her. It didn’t seem to help Marie. I think the only way to stop Molly from bothering people online is to prevent her from being able to get online in the first place. The mother’s obviously not very bright for a teacher if she hasn’t yet figured out that while she may’ve blocked my blog on Molly’s computer, the nut can still get to it on hers.

Later…

If there was the slightest, microscopic amount of doubt left in me as to us not being meant to have money, it’s gone now for damn sure. The economy is so damn bad we’re almost certainly guaranteed not to have even a few grand in the pension fund. Anything to keep us poor and from buying a house. Anything. But that’s fine; I already decided I don’t want a house just to lose it and have to pay for things we can’t afford to fix until we do. So fine. We’ll stay right here. But a little extra money to fix this place up would’ve been nice.

It’s all there, though. The pattern is so damn clear. First we lose hope of ever getting anything from his mother (if she can ever die), then the horse program tease, then the partnership tease, and now God’s made sure to use the economy to fuck us out of our pension. “What’s all that tell you?” I told Tom, trying to point the obvious out to him. Yet he insists that there’s no way I could be screwed out of my inheritance and that while it may suck, now’s a “great” time to be poor because the county could end up saving us a whole “boatload” of money on my teeth.

I first thought it would take months and months to get approved for help with my teeth. But the county funds the dental, he learned, which explains why the state could afford to drop it and not have anyone bitch about it. The state, however, is the one that deals with food stamps, so that would definitely take months.

If I could get my teeth done for free or close to it that would be great. But that’s just one thing. What about our overall day-to-day lives? I’ve known since 2007 that we were meant to be poor for the most part. That’s pretty much when it became obvious enough and I put two and two together and figured it out. I also figured as much as far as us getting fucked out of the pension. So then why is it so hard on me? Why can’t I just accept the fate that’s been handed down to me and just roll with the punches? Why get upset over what cannot be changed? Like wasting time getting upset when a state votes down gay marriage. Well, of course they’re gonna vote it down. Most people hate gays. It does get easier with time, but I still need to fully accept it if I’m ever going to have an easier life. I’ve given up my dream of a house, not that I ever had much choice, and I’m sorry it’s taken me 3 hopeless dreams to finally realize that whether my dream is far-fetched or perfectly reasonable, it’s not meant to be if the dream belongs to me. I’ll know better when dream number 4 rolls around and won’t even bother to think of trying to make it a reality.

This reality hitting home more and more makes me all the more hesitant to bother sweeping. Not just because the odds these days are astronomical but because if we, Tom and Jodi S, aren’t meant to have big bucks, then that’s all the more reason to believe I’ll never win.

Again with the troll coming to my blog today, so again I’m thinking of creating our own site and blocking that IP# altogether. Well, Tom will have to do it, but I did suggest it since he’s going to be out of work for months. Yeah, that call I dreamt he got never came. You know only the bad dreams are allowed to come true. Or something bad after having a bad dream.

I HATE God above so bad now! And I don’t care if He punishes me for saying so. What more can He do to us? He’s taken our dreams, taken our pension, taken our LIVES. We are so His little puppets on a string for life.

Later…

I meant it when I said that not having extra money was ok so long as we could pay for our needs, but sometimes I’ll miss the lack of choices and opportunities a life of struggling will bring us. It may not be necessary, but it would’ve been nice had a year of Harry & David’s been a choice for us, and it would’ve been nice to spend a day being pampered at a spa if we wanted to or to decide to take a vacation somewhere if we ever decided we could use a change in town/scenery, despite hating to travel.

To assume we’ll be screwed out of our pension is as reasonable enough as assuming one will be hurt if they fall 20 feet. And we WILL lose the inheritance. God will make sure doctors, hospitals and other medical-related expenses drain the money in the end. I’m not stupid. I get how it works for us. It started becoming rather obvious in late 2006, but each year it gets more obvious.

I am determined to just learn to accept things as they are and roll with the punches rather than waste time trying to change and control what we can’t. We DID try to better our lives, so no one can say we didn’t try. Also, there is some good in being poor. Poor gets you more breaks and freebies and it makes you appreciate those few scattered bursts of good times. So poor is ok and I’m ready to make the best of it since it cannot be changed.

Now, speaking of working with what we do have and not worrying about what we can’t have, here’s a list of long-term goals. We can do these things as money permits.

New carpet New paint New floors I would like light-colored countertops, but that’s not necessary Install more outlets? Flat-top stove Bigger water tank New doors Water filter so we can drink tap water? Twin waterbed for me New bed/couch of some kind for him Shelves Curtains or drapes for the bedroom Square clothesline Soundproofing and or insulation to regulate inside temp Add-ons: bathroom, bedroom, laundry room

This will take many thousands of dollars and many years to do but this is a REASONABLE goal. Having a savings and buying a house is not. I think we can and should do this. It may not be our #1 choice in life, but you know life isn’t what we plan it. We live the lives we were meant to live and I don’t think it’s all that bad at all when you consider how much worse it could be. I do, however, think we should get Jesse in here next fall to fix the heater and faucets. Remember, if we’re going to focus on the good of renting/being poor, it’s having someone else pay to fix things. So life won’t be what we want it to be, but we can make the best of the life we never wanted or intended to live. Sometimes you just gotta MAKE the place you’re in your forever home because it’s the only one that can be forever.

I also want to sell/donate most of my dolls to free up more space.

SUNDAY, APRIL 10, 2011 Just thought I’d write in between entering sweeps. The sweeps that seem very unlikely that I’m going to go back to winning like I used to. Can’t say I didn’t try, though.

The Beanie Babies didn’t sell. Next we’re trying a huge lot and we’re going to go with parcel post instead of priority mail. This will be a true test as to just how cursed we are since there’s no way this shouldn’t sell.

Believe! That’s what Eileen keeps saying to me. But how can I believe when 80% of the last 3 ½ years have been so shitty? How can I believe when we spend 22 months on Unemployment and then after just 6 months of work we’re laid off again?

I think that people who haven’t had it as bad as we have just don’t realize that it’s not that easy to just “believe.” I know they mean well, but it’s not like we can flick a switch within our brains and believe whatever we want to at will. If that were the case I wouldn’t feel stress, depression, frustration and such an extreme loss of faith, even if I’d only be kidding myself in believing things will work out. And they just may work out in the end, too. But in “working out” that probably means a few months on the job after God knows how many more months of struggling to find one in the first place and trying to make ends meet. All we’ve done since coming to California is just go round and round in circles. I’m coming to hate it here, but if a person is cursed, wouldn’t they just get the same results no matter where they lived?

The stress which has turned into depression is killing my motivation to work out and lose weight. I’ve gained back 17 of the 30 pounds I lost. All lost weight eventually finds its way back home, but why don’t I care? Why can’t I get myself to want to diet and exercise? How much more must I gain back before I finally get my ass in gear in that department?

Instead, all I want to do lately is eat, sleep, write and listen to music when I’m not entering sweeps or doing what work I can do online. Today, though, I got a lot more sleep for the depression. I crashed around 5am and then the sound machine broke and woke me up around noon. The old, ancient portable one did, not the off-tuned radio station on the stereo. Then I fell back asleep and got up around 2pm. I was up for about an hour, and then fell back asleep till around 4:00. Then I got up, fell back asleep around 6:00 and didn’t get up till 8:00. Am I really that depressed that I had to spend most of a 15-hour period sleeping?

During my second round of sleep, I had a dream of being in a tiny, old dump laid out sort of in a square like the dump we rented in Oregon. There was a room on each corner – two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen. I was in one of the bedrooms which seemed bigger than the bedrooms in the house actually were and saw rivulets of water leaking down part of one wall. I ran to tell Tom about it but saw that he was asleep on the living room couch. I changed my mind and decided not to bother waking him up for something I simply didn’t want to deal with anyway. So I let it leak and went to change the rat’s cage which was also in the bedroom. That’s when I noticed that all our digital clocks simply had the number 4 for the hour, but no minutes visible. Number 4, the real 13.

Was he laid off as a means of protecting Jesse? I wonder that. Seriously, maybe Tom was meant to lose his job as a means of trapping us here so Jesse doesn’t go further into the hole financially. Had he been hired on and given a raise recently, we just may have moved this summer. On the other hand, I would think Jesse would be able to re-rent this place in just a month or two.

If we were smart we’d take our pension money and make this place as comfortable as we possibly could and just stay here forever. If we live long enough to get it, that is. I’m sure Jesse wouldn’t mind having life-long tenants, and it would certainly be safer. The dogs only bark once or twice a week for a few hours now instead of every day for 10 hours like they used to, and even if Tom got a great job with great pay – well – all good things do come to an end, so it’s better to just stay put than take risks. I’m sure Jesse would let us paint and recarpet and personalize the place to our tastes and comfort as money permitted. It’s something to think about. We’d certainly never have to worry about neighbors being just a few feet away from us in this place.

I like different people’s marketing ideas for my book. Eileen suggested a TV or radio station, Maliheh suggested YouTube, and Mitch suggested another self-publishing company that I guess has better features and pays 85% royalties. I appreciate their suggestions, but right now we have more pressing issues at hand than trying to get my book to sell. And also, good writers that aren’t great simply aren’t good enough for big sales. I need to keep on improving.

Maliheh said people were freaked out about the government shutdown and says people are starting to struggle where she is and that if it weren’t for the army base nearby, Fayetteville wouldn’t exist.

I wonder what’s up with Christine. She hasn’t been to my blog since Thursday and hasn’t replied to my email.

FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 2011 Sandy finally made it into my blog, though she only scanned the first page from what I could tell. She must not have gotten the message till a short while ago because her friend count just went up. Larry and Jenny may not have gotten their own messages yet, though I think it’s unlikely that they haven’t. I’m just surprised none of them have blocked me, especially Jenny.

Molly’s latest hilarious entry which included two more “letters” to Alison and Roman, said she hasn’t been spying on Alison because she’s “been asleep for a few days,” LOL.

Her “letter” to Roman starts off with, “The reason I don’t want to talk to you,” yet she’s talking to him in her blog. shakes head What a nut. Just what a nut.

I was feeling a little down last night and reached out to Nane, asking if she wanted to chat come morning time her time, but not surprisingly, she’s blown me off. I’ll probably get a little “smile” or a “hug” tomorrow or the next day to make up for it. I guess I can’t blame her, though. I mean, what can she do other than listen to me vent? If no one here in my own country can help me, then how could anyone in Germany help me? They could momentarily cheer me up and even make me laugh, but they couldn’t fix the problem at hand and lift the curse that’s been on us so we could actually get ahead for once and stay ahead for more than 5 minutes. She probably had to work, too.

I asked Tom what he thinks is the reason he didn’t get the job he wanted – his age or his color – and he thinks it’s because he worked so long as a manager and most people feel that because of it he wouldn’t be happy doing menial tasks.

So much for thinking experience gets you ahead, if he’s right. Don’t you just love it when others take it upon themselves to decide for us what we’d like, not like, want, or not want in life?

Still only one sale. I was really hoping more of my Facebook friends would be interested, but I guess not. And it doesn’t look like the Beanie Babies are going to sell either.

Although I still don’t like the idea of the aches and pains that often come with old age, I want to grow old and die of natural causes while surrounded by people who care about me. But I know this is just a dream like any other I’ve ever had in life, and that my quest for security is a joke. Never will I have even the simplest house where we’re both insured and neither of us has to wonder if we’re going to make it. Instead, here I am, still wondering if we’re going to be alive this summer. Will we be? And if we are, how about next winter? At the same time, it seems something wants us to just barely get by so we can live to be teased, picked on and punished.

It seems we’ve fallen into a regular pattern of wondering if we’re going to survive and we just can’t break this pattern. I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed some of my old problems. They were depressing and frustrating, but they were safer and less scary. Yet it seems the past only comes back to haunt us when it’s in a bad way.

I just want to be happy. I want to laugh, joke and live comfortably. Not like a queen in a mansion surrounded by tons of luxuries; just comfortable enough. I want to go back to worrying about things like my weight, not whether or not we may have to kill ourselves in a few months to avoid homelessness. Each year we continue to struggle, the more I lose faith and the more certain I am that things will never change and that this is what’s meant to be for us. I just don’t know what we did to deserve it.

For now, since I can’t seem to motivate myself to work out, I’m going to get some proofreading done of old journals, but I’m no longer going about it the way I had been by reading them word for word. Now I’m just running a grammar/spell checker through the files.

Later…

I’m sitting here wondering how the hell I’m going to market my book. How can I gain publicity, thus buyers?

If just half a million people in a country of what has over 250 million people would buy it, we’d never have to worry about money again. sighs But this book isn’t the greatest and no one knows who I am. I may be pretty good, but I still need to improve my grammar and things like that. Tom said I should also stop writing stories with characters based on people I know and events based on things I’ve actually experienced.

I almost wish I were suddenly famous or infamous for some reason or another, but without all the other shit that would go with it. If I were suddenly arrested for murder like Amanda Knox was, then people would be driven to buy it out of curiosity. So I need to think of a hook – one much less extreme – that would generate sales. But how? What can I do? How can I pique people’s curiosity since I’m not already a well-known writer?

Eileen suggested I see if a local TV or radio station would have me on as a guest to help promote my book, but I don’t see why they’d care to help promote me out of millions of other writers who are now turning to Kindle. It’s becoming a common thing for writers to bypass traditional publishers altogether and go straight to Kindle. I’m just one person floating about in a sea of thousands and thousands of other writers.

I could sit here and fantasize about becoming some sort of hero by maybe rescuing some people from some kind of disaster and getting publicity that way, but that’s just not going to happen.

And so I’ll probably only sell a few more copies, if even that, and we’ll go on to struggle. It’s really quite a pisser to know that the only way to get a guaranteed roof over your head, food in your tummy, and all the medical care in the world is to do something bad enough to land yourself in prison for life.

THURSDAY, APRIL 7, 2011 Although I’m trying and trying to shake it, I’m kind of depressed right now. Nothing we’re doing to try to help ourselves seems to be working yet. We have no bids on the Beanie Babies and I’ve only made one book sale so far. I didn’t expect much in the way of book sales since I’m not well known, but it still would’ve been nice to make more than one sale.

Marie did reply to the message I sent her about the book. She was happy for me and seems to be doing well except for a leg injury. She said she wouldn’t email me unless I email her as she knows I don’t want to go back to the constant messages. She said she’d go read my book, but I don’t think she realized she can’t “read” it without buying it, and that I was saying I got a book published for sale, but that’s ok.

She’s also with someone she says she’s marrying this July. I hope she’s happy and that things work out for her. Despite the stress and annoyance she put me through, I doubt I could ever dislike her. I think a part of me will always love her.

I’d say David definitely got my message too, LOL, since someone in Mesa, Arizona did a search for me and stumbled onto my blog. I could see what pages were accessed, but there’s no way to know which pages he himself accessed. Since all but one of the other visitors were regulars, I’d say it probably was he who accessed my archive and photo albums. Only about 5 older entries were accessed. I wonder if he’ll come back, though I doubt it.

Although I didn’t get up till close to 2pm, the day was filled with outside annoyances, though I’m not sure Jesse had anything to do with any of it. A wood chipper was annoying me for a while, then I heard what sounded like a ball bouncing which took me on an unpleasant trip down Memory Lane and back to Phoenix. There I got to enjoy 5-hour basketball games regularly that were just a few feet from our windows. They might as well have been bouncing the damn ball off the wall of our house, that’s how loud and obnoxious it was.

Jesse does have concrete at the front of his house, and while the thumping was relatively soft, it was annoying enough. I first thought his kid was bouncing a ball in front of his place, but it was actually someone hammering in the distance.

Then it was off to run the weed whacker, which I think probably was Jesse. Stupid of him too, since we might get a little more rain this month before it stops till the fall.

I forgot to mention in my last entry that Jesse’s not doing too well either. Of course he’s doing much better than us in that he has land, a nice house with adequate space, more than one vehicle, etc., but he too, has no income coming in at the moment. He’s still trying to get on either disability or retirement. But at least he could borrow money, as we know he did for that little car. We have no one to borrow from, and not having any income other than what we make online is pretty scary. I know I don’t have to take it, though, and that I can end it anytime. I don’t have to take another 30-40 years of this shit.

Sometimes I want to throw myself on the bed and cry, but the tears just won’t come. If bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people so much of the time as is what seems to be the case, do I have to hurt someone to get ahead?

I’m just depressed. Too depressed to care about things like dieting, exercising, language studies and things like that. Right now I’m only focused on how to either make money or save money. Besides my writing, of course, but sometimes even that’s hard to concentrate on.

Being aware of my “life sentence” of struggling in other people’s tiny places is one thing, accepting it is another. Why can’t I just cram reality down my throat and move on?!

I hate older places not just because I prefer the looks of modern places but because they tend to have more problems. So I try to at least be glad we don’t have to be the ones to pay to fix things as they break around here.

Paula called and even she’s doing better than us. Her weather was nicer, her court case might be dismissed, she’s been granted section 8 housing, and she met a “great” guy in a chat room who lives in Sacramento. She was glad to hear about the book, but can’t access the link to that which I enclosed in an email, or my blog because she doesn’t know how to enable links. Hopefully, Justin can set that up for her.

Molly’s still staying away, now claiming that she “learned” from her doctor today that not everyone is going to like her. Wow, you mean it took her 27 years to figure that out? That’s kind of sad. But she’ll get hit with amnesia soon enough. I really think she’s got this sick addiction for bothering those who don’t like her, much in the way I did with the pranks 20 years ago, which she struggles with and has to fight the urges constantly. She’s been the way she is for nearly a decade that I know of, so who knows how long it will go on?

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6, 2011 Got my first book sale! It’s probably Christine, Eileen or Andy, and my sales will probably drop off to nothing once my friends help themselves, but it’s still pretty cool either way. Poor Mitch, though, LOL. The guy has no sales yet.

Perhaps another reason it’s not that exciting to me besides the fact that everything else in life sucks, is because it’s not a regular book. It’s a lot like selling something on eBay instead, only it’s something I made.

Eileen was busy with her grandkids, so that’s why she didn’t respond right away. She’s sorry about Tom losing his job but psyched about the story and said she’d download it to her Kindle. I don’t know if Christine has a Kindle, but even though I offered to give her a free copy since she’s a friend, she said she’d rather buy it and loves to read anyway. That is so cool of them! Some are posting the link to the book on their Facebook pages.

Nothing from Tammy yet, though it occurred to me that she might be jealous over something like this. Anything artistic tends to do that to her, LOL, though bookwriting isn’t the same as singing, so who knows? It could be that she’s upset that I haven’t talked to her on the phone, but who cares?

I “dropped” my book link on his brother David. He’s the only one of Tom’s siblings/in-laws I could find, besides his two kids. I even let Marie know, though I have a feeling I may regret that one if I hear back from her.

Not sure how the hell I did it, but I managed to sleep through Jesse coming down to fix the pipe. He said something about coming down to do additional work, and tomorrow we’re supposed to have thunderstorms, so I’m sure my sleep will still be disrupted at some point. Now’s when I hate to be on nights and I hate to be on days. On nights I don’t sleep well, on days I don’t get enough time alone with him out of work. I haven’t had any time alone since I got up 9 hours ago. I hate that! I just want to be ALONE! Gotta get used to it, though, since it’s going to be months before he’s working again.

We listed a lot of 6 Beanie Babies on eBay, so hopefully we can start selling them off lot by lot.

I’m going to send my folks excerpts from the book, some jokes, and a screenshot of the book at the online store. Just not until we have extra money for stamps. I don’t want to spend money on anything we don’t need right now.

Here’s Molly’s latest load of bull. She erased all her other entries, but she does that regularly. I’ve come to know her well enough to know that her words won’t mean much for long. The last sentence alone tells me she’s still hoping to “win” us over. I just don’t get why I’m lumped in as one of her “former friends.” Is she delusional as well as lacking in self-respect that she’s got to seek out negative attention from those she knows hate her?

Molly wrote that she was not in a healthy state of mind during the years she bothered her former friends. She said she was sorry for her past actions online, admitting she didn’t know how to stop herself. She apologized for what she did and said online to people and hopes for reconciliation. She claims she recognizes that she wasn’t thinking rationally when online and now wants harmony without conflict or name-calling.

TUESDAY, APRIL 5, 2011 I called to wish my dad a happy 80th birthday. Ma was on the line too, but I mostly talked with dad, as usual. He sounded chipper enough for being the old man he now is, as amazing and as sad as that sounds. They had a dry spell, I guess, and said they got some much-needed rain today that was to stop by the time they went out for dinner.

Dad’s hopeful for book sales and says to get everything we can get, assistance-wise. Yeah, it’s looking like we’ll have to, unfortunately. I appreciate whatever help we can get, but still, we didn’t come here to be a couple of welfare bums. I’m not sure which was the bigger mistake, moving to Oregon or moving to California. Life is so not what we plan it to be. But sadly, we are where we’re meant to be which is basically nowhere. In 5 years, if we’re still around, we’ll still be broke and uninsured. Same with 10 and 20 years from now. It’s like a life sentence of sorts that’s been handed down to us where we must spend 80% of our lives struggling to survive.

They’re sending another IHOP GC which is so nice of them, so we at least have that to look forward to since there’s no extra money for eating out. We don’t usually do that much anyway. It’s bad for our diets, and most restaurants are pretty wild these days unless you go in the middle of the night or early morning when the animals disguised as children are less likely to be out and about.

I told them a little about the weather, what we found out about the county and the dentist, and our plans to give the Beanie Babies another go on eBay. We’re going to list them tomorrow, so long as nothing comes up to mess with our plans.

I’ve been tired for most of the day because I barely slept 6 hours cuz of the stress. Tomorrow I’ll also be in for some more shitty sleep because there’s a slight leak in the pipe going into the trailer, so Jesse’s coming back down to fix it. Tom told him I’d be asleep till noon, but I’m sure he’ll wake me up anyway. Especially since I may need to sleep past noon. I guess the worst-case scenario is he wakes me up while he’s here, then I go back to sleep. Lost sleep or not, at least it’s another reason to be glad we don’t have our own place and probably never will.

Despite all the fuss the guy at the temp agency made and the way he got Tom all hopeful, he’s been completely blown off, probably because he’s older and white. I’m not surprised as I said before since we’re not allowed any short-term problems in life. He’ll be out of work for months.

I had wondered if something up there would drive us to our deaths to keep us from our pension fund, but if it kills us then it can’t have all this fun cursing us, so we just may get to live after all. Then it can just screw us out of the money somehow instead. As of yet, though, there’s just over a year to go and no one’s notified Tom of any significant changes or problems.

A close friend was saying that she could relate to the stress I’m going through, but as sad as it may sound, it actually gets easier each time something up there feels the need to get a kick out of teasing me with my survival. Oh, I’m still stressing, but another 4 or 5 layoffs and I just might be a real expert at dealing with this shit.

The bird’s nest I discovered on the porch rafters a while ago gives me a spark of hope, too. I guess it’s an oriental thing where they consider the discovery of a bird’s nest nearby a sign of good luck to come (unless old nests don’t count, since these birds seem to be reusing an old nest). Someone told me that last year when I discovered the nest when it was first created. A little over two months later he had a job. So we’ll see what happens in the next 60-70 days. There’s been lots of deer and jackrabbits out and about too, which makes sense this time of year. It’s no longer cold and rainy, but it’s not hot yet either. Unfortunately, we’re going to have another cold snap where it might even rain. This means we’ll need to use more propane. sighs

As I told some people, it’s hard to really enjoy the excitement of getting my book published with all this other shit going on. It just hasn’t hit me yet that I can no longer say I’m just a homemaker or just a “semi-published” writer. I’m a real author now. For real. I may not make shit for sales, but this “pro” status is definitely gonna take time to sink in.

I told Tammy, Eileen and Sharyn about it, and was surprised not to have heard back from Tammy and Eileen. Sharyn told me it wasn’t her that was divorced 4 times. She was actually married to a guy for 15 years. I felt like such an idiot! Obviously, I read the wrong article. She was featured with a few others and I guess I was reading up on the wrong person or something. Anyway, she wished me luck with the book.

Nothing from Larry, Sandy and Jenny still. They not only haven’t viewed my blog, but they haven’t even blocked me. I’m surprised. Then again, maybe they figure that would be giving me a “reaction” they don’t want to give me if they did, same with why the black bitch didn’t block me.

I haven’t even heard from Maliheh lately.

Upon closer inspection of Larry’s page, one of his “interests” is “being with the people I love, with Stephanie.”

Well, Stephanie, who is also on his friend list, is a definite child woman. From the looks of her picture, she can’t be a day over 18.

Tom finally got his own Facebook account, but only for the sake of getting free stuff. He set everything to ‘friends only’ so no one contacts him.

As for the troll, it took a day off today from viewing my blog, but her friend/ ex-friend in Savannah, GA just checked in. Molly spent the day bitching about Roman instead, a local guy who’s been trying to get her to leave him alone.

I’m sick of the constant change on all the sites I use! As soon as I get used to doing something a particular way they run and change it. I hate change! Changing background images is one thing, but the way they change things around and make me have to hunt for where the features are now located and all that shit really annoys the hell outa me.

MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011 My book is almost published and ready for sale. For some strange reason, they publish it in stages over about 72 hours. So the book’s there, but there’s no pricing info yet. I selected the lowest price of $2.99 since it’s my first novel and I’m still a nobody. Once Amazon takes its cut I’ll pocket $2.00.

I will have to have Nane, Adonis and Mitch see if it’s available for purchase in their countries. It should be, but I don’t know for sure.

Nane sent me pretty pink flowers on Facebook and congratulated me after I told her about it on her wall and sent her flowers as well. She asked if it could be translated into German, but I don’t know that there’s any kind of automatic translator.

We’re also going to have to edit out Tom’s name. Even though we listed him as the illustrator, the cover page says it’s by both of us which leads one to think we both wrote the book itself. It says I’m the author and he’s the illustrator only when you click on the book.

Also, the cover doesn’t make for the greatest thumbnail. We should’ve used the same bright red for my name since you can barely see it. There should’ve been more contrast between the trees and sky, but hey, it’s our first time doing this.

It pisses me off that I have to be careful where I post my book link, but thanks to Molly I can’t just drop it anywhere and everywhere. I’m sure she’ll still find it. As dumb as she may be overall, she’s proven to have an amazing talent for finding the people she stalks, among other things.

Then again, fuck it. I’m going to post it where I want. That would be letting her control me by not posting it where I wanted. Hopefully, she won’t use it as a weapon to harass me.

I said she was probably harmless, but the more I read the craziness in her blog, the more I wonder if perhaps she’s really a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. And how does she know I’ve been reading it? Does she have a tracker there or something? I’m just wondering because, in one of her “letters” to Alison, she asks why her friends read her blog. But yeah, it’s so crazy that it’s almost funny. She groups us all together and includes me in her list of “former friends,” and goes back and forth like crazy on her feelings and actions. I’ve never seen anyone swing up and down and be so damn contradicting like she is. One minute she just loves Alison, the next she’s badmouthing her. She also swings back and forth between admitting she “spies” on us because she’s bored and lonely, and then insisting she’ll never bother again because online friends are a “waste of time.” She talks about panic attacks and having all kinds of anger and other negative emotions. It’s hard to believe she held a job for 7 years as she also claims as an usher in a movie theater. Wonder why she quit. She claims she was raped over a year ago. Maybe this is part of what’s driving her batty, along with this guy in her town she wants a relationship with that wants nothing to do with her.

It doesn’t look like Tom’s going to get that job after all. I’m not surprised either. I knew it was too good to be true and that nothing lets us suffer for that short of a time. It’ll probably be months before he gets something. Meanwhile, we’ll just have to play the Unemployment game again, sit back and endure the rough ride ahead, and watch the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months.

Thanks, God. Just thanks.

The dreams I had pretty much told me we weren’t going to get any good news today, though they weren’t as scary as that dream where the riot was closing in on me.

In one dream the phone rang, I answered, and a woman said something about Tom’s applying for a job at a warehouse. I repeated the message to Tom who was nearby and he said, “Oh yeah, a warehouse,” and took the phone from me. A second later a black woman was there who supposedly had something to do with the job, but then she disappeared. I asked Tom what the caller and the visitor wanted and he said he didn’t know and that he wasn’t sure.

The bad dream, though it had nothing to do with work and money, took place in some house. It looked like a real house anyway and was much bigger. I seemed to be working on some major project, be it cleaning, decorating, packing or unpacking. I had stuff scattered everywhere and music blasting. At one point I looked behind me to find the screen door to a slider open and thought it a bit odd. I guess Tom shouldn’t have been home at that time. I stepped over to the slider. The sun was setting and I could see the silhouette of what I first thought was Tom in a fairly good-sized backyard. But then the person started running away right as I heard loud banging from inside the house. I woke up trying to decide whether or not to chase the person who was running or deal with whoever was in the house.

A woman did come down here today, though she wasn’t black, and it definitely had nothing to do with any job. She just wanted directions. It’s the first time anyone’s ever come down to ask us, too.

SUNDAY, APRIL 3, 2011 This is it, folks! My book has been accepted for publication and so now begins the exciting countdown to when it’s actually available for sale! It will be available in e-book form only. Not paperback. You don’t need a Kindle to read it, but you will need a Kindle reader which is a free application you can download that will enable you to read it in Word. I will post the link as soon as I get it, probably tomorrow. Buy it and I’ll be your friend for life. :)

Andy’s all excited about it, but I don’t think he realized at first that it’s not going to be available in print. The only way to really get it “in print” would be to print out a copy from Word. I explained to him about the program he can download to read it without a Kindle.

Now if only – if only – Tom could get his own good news tomorrow! I’d give up this whole book thing for him to get the job he wants! It would be such awesome money and I know he would love the convenience the closeness would bring instead of having to drive 45 minutes each way to Grass Valley. We’re still pretty hopeful and I know my good mood will help. I also know now’s a good time to enter sweeps with the way my mood tends to “influence” things in a more extreme way.

As soon as I have the link to my book I’ll start spreading the word and hope others will too! I never would’ve thought I’d get a book published, regardless of the method. All I’ve gotten published before that I’ve actually been paid for was super short stories, articles and reviews. I guess it’s no longer true to say I’m a “semi-published” author, LOL.

Still no poem reviews, not that it matters much, but I got a nice comment on my current book. They said they were glad I posted more of the story and are looking forward to the ending. If life will soon be returning to normal for us, I can get on with that soon enough.

Had someone told me I’d write a story with Maliheh as one of the lead characters, even if I’d change her name, and that she’d know about it and suggest publishing it, I’d have laughed my ass off so hard! ROTFL! I just hope no assholes like Molly post nasty comments in the review section.

Speaking of assholes, no blog views from Jenny, Larry or Sandy. I’m kind of surprised too, though I realize there’s a chance they may not have picked up my message yet. None of them have blocked me yet, so who knows?

Leaving a comment on Alison’s Thoughts blog through Facebook created a new account for me. rolls eyes So I had to run and block Molly since Molly already found Alison’s new account, and when she checks her blog/comments, she’ll find mine. I’m not going to go back to blogging there in the near future.

SATURDAY, APRIL 2, 2011 The weekend has been going agonizingly slow as we wait and hope that Monday brings a turnaround in our luck – him with a job and me with my book which we submitted for publication a few hours ago. We changed the synopsis but didn’t bother with dedications. Tom did a great job with the cover. I listed him as my illustrator under contributions.

No bad vibes or dreams lately. The two-story house dreams are back, but I don’t think they mean anything. As long as I don’t have any nightmares! Marie and whatever his name was are renting their two-story house down in “Cluster Park,” as I call it. They’re the people who asked if we had a dog on our way out one day and said some dog was keeping them up all night. Let me guess – they’re leaving because they couldn’t get the owners to take responsibility for shutting it up and of course they won’t tell any prospective renters about it, right? Either way, I always did say it was a lousy location down there by the main road where there’s a cluster of houses. That’s why I call it Cluster Park. It kind of defeats the purpose of moving out to the country if you’re just going to have neighbors on top of you. You might as well stay in the city if you’re not going to get any breathing space around you. I guess sometimes you can’t escape everything by running to the country. Barking is just as bad here as it is in the city.

They called off the rain we were supposed to have tomorrow and it wasn’t nearly as warm today. We haven’t needed heat all day but we couldn’t open windows either. Tiny yellow and purple wildflowers are all over the land now and it looks really cool, but the Cali oaks are late this year in budding new leaves. During our first two summers here we could leave the windows open all the time starting in mid-June. Last year it was a week after mid-June. Hopefully, it won’t be even later this year.

My Nane story has had hundreds of reads on Booksie yet hasn’t received one single comment yet. No one’s commented on my poems either.

Still sweeping away like crazy too, but don’t know if it’ll be like old times, so to speak. Not with all the people entering these days and there being fewer sweeps to enter. One sweep listed their odds. My chance of winning a lousy duffle bag these days is 1 in 75,000. Yet I was chosen out of 7,000 other entries for the cruise in 2006. If I don’t get any win notices by the time my 3-month subscription expires, I’ll give up sweeping once again. Sure hope I won’t have to, though!

Found Jenny C and her one friend on Facebook, LOL. I sent a message saying: You still fucking my brother?

That ought to shock her, LOL. I don’t expect or want a reply from the selfish, conceited bitch. Can’t say she hasn’t aged well, though, cuz she has. She’s got her hair dyed blondish now and she’s still slim. Guess she lives in the same house in West Springfield (both her parents are no doubt dead by now) and she has a cleaning business.

Wowee, I just found Larry and Sandy. Only, not surprisingly, they appear to be divorced since Larry’s coming up as living in Southwick and Sandy’s still in Feeding Hills. I’m not surprised at all. I’m only surprised it didn’t happen 20 years ago. My brother, as he himself admitted, is quite a slut.

Here’s what I wrote about him and Jenny in my blog (but not Sandy), assuming they check it out:

Found an old “friend” from something like 20 years and 3000 miles ago that I looked up online out of curiosity. I don’t care to ever be her friend again as I remember her to be rather selfish and conceited (not that I was or am perfect myself as I can get pretty damn selfish, too) any more than I’d want to be buds with my hypocrite of a brother again despite his great sense of humor (and he’s one of the funniest guys I ever knew), but I do wish her the very best in life. According to the one picture I saw of her, I’d say she’s aged quite well.

Speaking of my brother, OMG he pissed me the fuck off so badly back when I was 21 and again when I was around 32. I was young, dumb, naive and scared of just about everything at 21, but had he lived nearby when he pissed me off as bad as he did in the late 90s, not even his size could’ve saved him had I gone storming over to his place on account of it! How could someone piss me off so bad that could be so damn funny at the same time??? I’ve always wondered about this. Really, that guy could make even the most serious of people laugh their asses off until tragedy struck and he seemed to take it out on just about everyone. And why did he have to screw every single female friend I ever introduced him to? Oh well. Now he’s divorced, single and free by the looks of it, so live it up and play the field, dude! You ain’t getting any younger.

Talk about the ultimate karma, LOL! I wonder if they’ve ever looked me up?

I also found their daughter Jennifer, who looks very beautiful and has studied nursing. I didn’t message her, though.

FRIDAY, APRIL 1, 2011 Here’s a little freeform-ish poem I wrote earlier today. The words just came to mind and so I jotted them down. Tom and Mitch liked it.

At Seventeen

At seventeen I had high hopes and dreams. But someone tried to murder me at seventeen. I lived for the moment, never worried about the future. The future would take care of itself, I was sure. But then I grew up and stepped into a whole different world. Disappointment, desperation and a loss of hope left my mind in a whirl. All the while there was hardly a dull moment at any point during the ride. Up, down, left, right go the adventures and heartaches of my life. Almost missed out on some things thanks to the person who nearly took my life. Bad news always has me slipping back in time, wanting to end it all. It’s so much easier to skip out on the chaos that sometimes befalls. But things have a way of working out in the end somehow, some way. And so I’m a former singer who was meant to be an author these days. I write and I write as I always have so much to tell. Funny thing too, for my would-be killer was myself.

Later…

The interview went well, though we won’t know anything for sure until Monday. Tom has a way of being overly optimistic, but I don’t have a bad feeling, and they did give him the paperwork and tell him where the company he might work for is located. This is something they don’t normally do unless they’re going to hire you for sure, he said. He may have to take a drug test here in town. These days they just swab your mouth. Sure wish they had that when I was on probation. Having to piss in front of someone for something you didn’t do was a real bitch. I won’t even get to thinking right now about those days of getting off for the things I was actually guilty of and being made to pay for the things I wasn’t guilty of.

Meanwhile, it sucks to have to wait and hope over the weekend, but he feels 80% certain that he’ll get at least one of the positions they need filled. It’s just a matter of whether or not he gets the one he wants most. He’ll take anything, even if it’s minimum wage or part-time or both, but getting over two grand take-home would sure be nice.

And it would get us wondering, once again, if we should move or not. That would be a tough one as both staying and going have their pros and cons. As I told someone the other day, there are two different types of people in this world. There are the smart ones who follow their heads and do what’s safest, then there are the stupid ones (like myself) who follow their hearts and take risks. I still don’t get how I got to be such an adventurer, LOL! Tom said he’d rather be miserable with me than have it all alone and I agree. :) Right now we’re not miserable, and I hope we don’t get there. I hope my bawling my eyes out like I did the Wednesday before last will end up being all for nothing.

Anyway, the company he wants to work for is only open Monday through Thursday, so that’s why we may have to wait till Monday to find out anything. The person who makes the final decision wasn’t there today and the girl was mistaken when she told him he might start today. If he gets the job he’ll work 10-12 hours a day, starting at 4pm.

I’m trying not to get my hopes up even though it’s so hard not to. If he got this job then his being laid off would turn out to be a blessing in disguise, not something that usually happens to us. Usually, when something bad happens it’s to punish us and inflict some kind of pain and suffering upon us. At least that’s how it seems. And our setbacks in life usually aren’t this short either, so that’s why I don’t want to get too ahead of myself on the thought of being able to stop worrying about money again, or being able to call the propane people out to fill us up, or being able to decide if we want to move or not.

Tentatively, we should be able to submit my book to the submissions department tomorrow. Tom’s still working on the cover. In his opinion, it’s not my best work. He says it’s well written, but the story’s about a 7, and the ending is about a 5. He didn’t like my surprise ending which came to me in a dream, LOL, but that’s ok.

[ceo-of-daichi]

HQ AND PREGNANCY/GIVING BIRTH

Characters | Various x Fem!Reader

WC | 1.1k

A/N | Been wanting to write these hc’s for a while, I miss writing hc’s honestly this was a lot of fun! I honestly think all the HQ charas would be amazing parents and be extremely supportive!! Not proof read so I apologise if you find mistakes :) (also I have zero experiences of pregnancy so if anything is inaccurate thats why :3)

TW | Pet names (babe and baby), soft soft soft!

Tip-Jar☕️ | Navi | Karasuno Masterlist

Is the most supportive partner they could be. Reading books about childbirth the minute you find out that you are expecting. Wants to support you in whatever way they can, literally lets you do nothing.

“Babe I am only 4 weeks pregnant, I can stand for longer than 10 minutes without you attempting to carry me”

Super endearing at first (although after a while you have to remind them you are okay and they are getting annoying), you love how excited they are to help you through the pregnancy.

They have been low key planning this since they met you, even have an amazon wish list specifically for if you ever put up with them long enough to have kids.

Packages come every week or so, full of different things for the nursery etc. They are constantly shoving their phone or laptop into your face to ask opinions on different things.

You both design the nursery together and it is IMMACULATE, although they won’t let you lift anything they do let you paint the walls.

And when the time finally comes for you to be rushed to the hospital, they have been prepared since day one. The emergency bag is grabbed and you are being hurried out the door to the hospital.

Doesn’t leave your side at any moment, helps you through contractions and lets you squeeze their hand as much as you need. Talking to you the whole time, letting you know that they are there and how good a job you are doing.

When the baby comes they are speechless, lost at the site of the small bundle of joy that you nurtured inside of you for 9 months. It makes them fall deeper in love with you.

And their child? The minute they get to hold the tiny bundle of joy, their heart is the fullest it's ever been. And all the pain you just went through is suddenly worth it to see the look on your partner's face, as they hold your joint creation.

(they definitely cry at some point)

DAICHI, Sugawara, Kiyoko, Tanaka, Ennoshita, Iwaizumi, AKAASHI, Inouka, Kuroo, Yaku, Semi, TAKEDA, Akiteru, Michimiya, Ukai Jr, MEIAN, Osamu, Kita.

Is much more nervous when they find out, of course they are excited but are they prepared? Absolutely not. But they don’t have time to worry about it now because it's happening.

They are trying their hardest, despite them being extremely anxious and not exactly hiding it that well. Sometimes forget that things are going to be slightly different as time progresses.

Sometimes you have to prompt them to help you with certain things, such as buying things for the nursery etc. They let you pick the aesthetic for the nursery and struggle to understand why you want the nursery to be so picturesque, after all it's meant to be a practical room.

“Do we really need a rocking chair?”

“But it will look cute and it will be helpful!”

You are going to have to tell them to help you if you are struggling, they will definitely forget that you aren’t meant to be lifting heavy things etc. Not because they don’t want to help you (because trust me they do) but sometimes they just need a little nudge. Although they immediately apologise with promises of a foot rub that evening.

They may be oblivious to certain things, but when you are both cuddled up on an evening, their arms tightly around you. Hands running over your bump affectionately, whispers of the future and what you will do when there are three of you. That's when you know that everything will be worth it.

The one thing they do well is the emergency bag for the hospital, it has double of everything you may need. They are almost over prepared for the situation by the time it comes. The car has been packed for weeks with everything you may need for the inevitable trip to the hospital.

Extremely unsure of how to help you when you are in labour, not sure if anything they are saying is actually helpful. End up staying fairly quiet, with the occasional kiss to your forehead to remind you they are still here and that you are doing a good job.

Allows you to squeeze their hand until they can’t feel it anymore.

When they see the baby for the first time, the smile on their face is one you wish to commit to memory forever. They definitely cry the first time they hold them. Promising that they would do anything and everything in their power to protect you and your child until they die.

USHIJIMA, Kageyama, Asahi, Yamaguchi, YACHI, Aone, Kenma, Yamamoto, KYOTANI, Kinnoshita.

Overly excited from the minute you find out. This person is like a child at Christmas all of a sudden. They are golden retrievers anyway, but the thought of you carrying their child and becoming a parent is thrilling.

Points out baby clothes and accessories when you are out shopping, constantly trying to sneak them into the cart.

“Baby we don’t need that many nappies yet, we still have 7 and a half months.”

“No harm in being prepared!”

Instantly wants to get to work making the house baby proof, child proof and everything in between. Which you let them, you can’t say no when they are excitedly picking out colours for the nursery.

Although occasionally you have to pull in the reins, mainly to stop them spending all your joint savings on things that you don’t really need. You have to direct them slightly to make sure you are getting everything you need.

Sometimes they send you puppy dog eyes and then you really can’t say no. You end up with a lot of stuff to say the least, some of it useful and some of it less so.

And you both have a BLAST decorating the nursery, them being so playful means it takes twice as long and can get messy pretty quickly. But you eventually get a working nursery, it's extremely cute and feels like the perfect combination of both of you.

They can also be overly protective, not letting you do things by yourself. Which can get annoying especially in the early months, but you know they mean well. As the months go by it becomes less annoying and more endearing, because you actually need to rest.

Also extremely prepared for the hospital, has like 3 bags full of things. Almost panics when you shout for them to grab the bags and get ready to head to the hospital.

Has to calm themselves down on the drive while also trying to calm you down. When you eventually get there, he tries to talk to you the whole time, reassuring you, and helps you through small breathing exercises you both learnt on the run up.

Can’t stop crying the minute you give birth, is just so in love with you and their baby. Can’t stop staring in awe as they watch you cradle the newborn in your arms.

BOKUTO, Atsumu, Hinata, KOGANEGAWA, Terushima, Saeko, Goshiki, Lev, Nishinoya, OIKAWA.

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[thewankbankuk]

BRUCE AND CHRIS

TAKE A HIKE

Bruce anxiously hopped out of the car.  He had just arrived at the national park with his best friend Chris and this was the day he would propose to him.

They met on the swim team in high school and quickly became good friends. They seemed to be together for every major event in each other’s lives since then. They won swim competitions together, went to the same college, and Chris was even there when Bruce’s mother passed away.

They dated for a bit in college, but after they graduated life seemed bent on keeping them apart.  They both got jobs in other cities and began to drift away. They would catch up every now and then by phone or skype, but it was never like old times. But Bruce was so excited when he got promoted and was transferred to the same city as Chris.

This hike meant so much to Bruce. It was a chance to not only celebrate his promotion, but it was also a way to really reconnect with Chris, without any outside interference. A chance to express his thoughts, emotions, and dreams for the future.

The plan was they would reach the mountain top right before sunset. Bruce would, of course, get down on one knee and confess his deep love to Chris. After Chris said yes, they would set up a site and spend a beautiful night under the stars.

Everything was going according to plan.  They had been hiking for 2 hours and would soon be at the peak. But then the strangest thing happened.  A man dressed head to toe in rubber stepped out of the woods in front of them. The man had a loose-fitting black rubber body suit on with rubber boots, rubber gloves, and a gasmask. The rubber man didn’t say anything to them, but they could hear the slow deep breaths coming from the gasmask.

Bruce and Chris looked at each other confused. The rubberman then reach out an arm and offered them a gasmask. Bruce and Chris didn’t say anything and began to turn around in hopes of avoiding any further interactions with the rubberman. As they did turn around though they noticed even more rubber men standing behind them.  As Bruce’s relief to finally be alone with Chris, quickly became anxiety that they were all alone in the woods with these crazy rubbermen. What were these men doing out here and what did they want with Bruce and Chris?

Both Bruce and Chris were very strong muscular young men, but there were too many of the rubbermen for them to overpower. The rubbermen were beginning to close in on them fast. So, Bruce and Chris began to run.

Pushing rubbermen out of their way they ran off of the path and into the woods. Bruce was so focused on running away from the rubbermen that he didn’t notice Chris had tripped over a tree root and fell. Giving just enough time for the rubbermen to swarm around Chris.

Chris yelled and Bruce turned around, but at this point Bruce was too far ahead to help Chris. But Bruce could see the rubbermen hold down Chris and force the gasmask over his head. The gasmask seemed to suction itself to Chris’s head, subduing the young man enough for the rubbermen to control him without much force.

The other rubbermen stopped trying to peruse Bruce and turned around and walked towards Chris. They formed a large circle around Chris and they began to breath heavily through their gasmask in unison.

Chris grabbed at the gasmask on his face trying to take it off. But the longer the gasmask was on the more relaxed Chris became. He then gave up trying to remove the mask and instead unhooked his backpack, letting it fall to the ground. He then pulled out his phone and took off his smartwatch. He placed them on the ground and began to violently smash each device with his boots until each was inoperable. Then Chris stood up straight and let his arms fall to his side, breathing in heavily through his gasmask in unison with the other rubbermen.

The rubbermen broke the circle and Chris began walking naked and robotically into the woods as if he knew where he was going. The other rubbermen began forming a line behind Chris and they all marched in unison.

Bruce watch, from a far, in horror and disbelief.  He envisioned his dream of being with Chris.  A dream that he could not let go of.  

He thought out loud, “What the hell is going on?“

” What the fuck have they done to Chris?“

He didn’t know what to do. They were so far from any kind of help. If Bruce left to get help, he may never see Chris again.

So, Bruce began to follow the men into the woods. If Bruce could just get to Chris and pull the gasmask off his face, they could bolt and hopefully lose the rubbermen.

The rubbermen continued to follow Chris into the woods until they reach an abandoned military complex. Out front of the complex were a few men not in rubber but military uniforms and gasmask. They saluted and watched the rubbermen and Chris walk into the complex. They then stood out front of the complex with rifles guarding the entrance.

It was dark outside and Bruce knew he wouldn’t be able to go through the front, so he began to walk around the complex looking for an alternate way inside. He walked up to a side door to see if it was open. When all of a sudden two military drones emerged from the door, grabbing Bruce and pulling him inside.

Once inside, Bruce quickly looked around trying to orient himself. It was a large dark concrete room with no windows. There were hundreds of crates, against the walls, stacked on each other. There was a single light, hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room, where the drones brought Bruce.

Bruce fought and struggled but it was no use. The drones overpowered Bruce and forced him to his knees. Pushing down firmly on his shoulder to hold him in place.

Bruce yelled out “Where’s Chris?”

“Why are you doing this to us?”

But the drones didn’t respond. Then Bruce heard footsteps and deep breathing in front of him. The drones let go of Bruce and he looked up in fear.

But it was just Chris, standing rigidly, completely naked over Bruce. Chris’s muscular body glistening with sweat. Bruce thought that Chris looked really hot. As the sound, the sounds of slow heavy breathing pulsating from the gasmask still over his head made Bruce a bit excited.

Bruce popped up and hugged Chris.

“Chris, I was so worried. Are you OK?” Bruce said, But Chris simply kept staring straight ahead as if he was looking past Bruce. Chris began breathing even heavier through the gasmask. Bruce tried to look into Chris’s eyes but was unable to see them through the dark lenses of the gasmask.  

Chris mindlessly pointed at one of the drones.  The drone put down its gun and walked over to one of the crates, opening it. The crates were full of gasmask and the drone grabbed one and walked over to Bruce, offering it to him. Bruce knocked it out of the drone’s hand and it fell to the floor. Bruce then reached up and tried to pull the gasmask from Chris’s face, but it was no use. The mask was suctioned too firmly.  It seemed to be fused to Chris now.  

Then one of the doors, to the room, swung open and hundreds of the rubbermen flooded into the room. Creating a circle of rubber around Chris and Bruce.  It was clear there was no escaping.  

Bruce began tearing up as the feelings of dread and despair grew inside him. He shook Chris as if trying to wake him from a dream.

But Chris was no longer there Bruce realized. Chris was just a mindless drone like the rest of them.

However, just as Bruce thought all hope was gone, Chris turned his head to Bruce. The lenses of the gasmask glowed as they looked directly into Bruce’s eyes. Chris then began to gently caress Bruce’s face. Bruce leaned into Chris’s hand and began to profess his feelings for Chris. He told Chris that he had always loved him, that life kept getting in the way of that love, and that he wanted to marry Chris so that they would be together forever.  Bruce shared how he had planned to propose on the mountain top as the sunset.  

In a deep robotic monotone voice, Chris responded to Bruce.

“Put on the gasmask Bruce”. Chris continued, “Everything will be better. No need to think. No need to worry, just mindless obedient bliss”.

Chris briefly paused, “We can be together forever. Isn’t that what you really wanted Bruce?”

Bruce began to cry even more, unsure of what to do, falling to Chris’s feet.

“Pick up the gasmask Bruce and put it on” Chris said. “It’s our only way Bruce!”

“Do it for me Bruce, because you love me. Show me how much you appreciate me, and how much you want to be with me”.

Bruce picked up the mask and looked up at Chris. He wanted to please Chris so badly and show Chris how much he loved him. He knew he would be trap into the collective and this would be his new life from now on.  It was his only way he could be with Chris.

“JUST FOR YOU BABY!”   Bruce replied as he slowly slides the gasmask over his head and took his first deep breath. The mask immediately suctioned itself to his head beginning to fuse with his skin. The gas from the mask began to take affect and Bruce began to relax. He started to hear the voices and commands of the collective in his mind and Bruce felt numb and obedient.

Bruce wouldn’t mindlessly obey the orders of the collective, but most importantly he was overwhelmed with joy when he realized he would from now on be perpetually connected to Chris. He could hear Chris’s thought and share the same mindless bliss. They were finally a unit and nothing would separate them ever again.

Bruce stood up letting his arms fall to his side as the gasmask took over complete control of his mind. Knowing this was where he was supposed to be.  A couple drones brought over rubber suits. Bruce and Chris eagerly dawned the rest of their rubber body suits happily joining the collective knowing they would be together forever.  

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Reaper and the Death Angel Part 53

Things are getting bad again so this is late, I've lost count of how many times I've wanted to delete every chapter (or my whole blog). Having said that, here's another chapter.

Series Masterlist

Part 52

Contains: Nightmares, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, violence (home invasion, threats of torture, major character death). Smut (Dom Jax, sub Reader, sex toys, St Andrew's Cross bondage, overstimulation, fingering, P in V, subspace, aftercare.)

7k words

Comment if you want to be tagged/removed or follow #the reaper and the death angel.

The truth comes out

As you drove into the compound, T-M was deserted. There was no sound from people milling around and the constant scent of smoke and beer was absent. As you got out of your car, you realised it wasn't deserted for no reason, the ground was littered with bullets. As you drew your gun, a bloody hand behind a vehicle caught your eye, running up to it, you found Opie dead, his eyes wide. The sound of gasping pulled you away, Chibs spurting out his last breath before dying.

Something made your feet move without your choosing, dragging you to the chapel. The site was horrific, Sam was dead, his chest blown to pieces and Jax was sitting in his seat, his eyes half open and his chest heaving.

You ran up to him, taking his face in your hands, "Jax, Jax what happened?"

Jax smiled, "I knew you'd come."

You could see he was bleeding, the metallic pang of death filling the air, then Jax's face turned cruel, "but not soon enough. This is all your fault, we're dead because of you."

You woke up caged by something strong, hard as steel and hot like the sun on a day in early summer, struggling did nothing, your voice stolen by terror, "it's alright darlin, I'm here, I'm here, you're ok."

Jax, "oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, I….." Jax held you to his chest, rocking back and forth slowly, "it's just a nightmare, everyone's alright."

He took your curled up fist in his hand and rubbed the backs of your fingers until it opened then placed it over his heart, "just focus on breathing in and out, I'm here."

The panic slipped from your body and you relaxed into Jax's warm embrace, "there you go, you need anything from me pretty girl?"

You shook your head, "no, I just want this all to be over."

Jax pressed his lips to your forehead, "it will be soon darlin." Jax held you without complaint until you fell asleep curled into his body before lying down with you in his arms and trying to fall back asleep himself.

****

You rolled out of bed, Jax groaning beside you, "if we spend the day in bed, does that mean we don't have to worry about tonight?"

You shook your head, "first off, good morning beloved and second, no, I have so much planning to do and so do you. You need to make sure we can bring everyone here without alerting Clay while still ensuring the Nomads don't know what's going on."

Jax looked over you, "you good?"

You nodded, "yeah, I'm good, last night was a lot Jax, I'm just taking a little longer to wake up."

Jax smiled softly, "we have plenty of time before we need to start the day, come lay with me for a little longer."

His open arms were too comforting to resist. He was so warm, "you wanna tell me what that nightmare was about, you kept saying you were sorry?"

You took a deep breath, "I really don't, old nightmare, different setting, different people."

Jax held you tighter, it was rare now a days when you didn't want to talk about your bad dreams, "that's alright with me. I still can't tempt you to stay in bed all day and cuddle with me?"

"Sadly no, plus we know where it will lead."

Jax pecked your lips, "we have to get up, don't we?"

You chuckled and threw the covers off, "yes, we do." You got up and went to the bathroom, which is when you caught your reflection in the mirror, "Jackson, can to explain this?"

You came out of the bathroom and gestured to your neck, you were covered in hickies and you had a bite mark on your shoulder, "I got a little carried away."

"I'll fucking say, this is going to take me half an hour to cover up."

****

Your leg was bouncing enough that your foot was starting to hurt, Travis was in your office doing his best to keep you calm, "Abel and Ima will be fine at Anvil, you need to stop worrying."

You smiled, "I know they will be, I'm worried about the fucking mess I'm going to have to clean up after I stage the crime scene."

Travis huffed, "just do it where there's no carpet, you painted the house with the fancy stain resistant paint, you'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say, you don't have to clean it." Travis laughed, "I'll help, I got to be there anyway."

You sighed, "alright you're forgiven."

Travis smiled, "Juicy boy and Jess Rabbit seem to be getting along well."

You shook your head, "I don't know why I hired you to work the desk, all you do is gossip."

Travis laughed, "you hired me because I'm good at my job and you love me."

"I mean, you're not wrong but you don't need to be a dick about it."

Travis shook his head through another laugh, "I'm gonna double down just because of that."

Travis' eyes drifted towards the office window, "speak of the lovesick devil."

Juice walked by, looking for Jess, a bright smile on his face. "Be nice, they're in love."

Travis huffed, "well, let's hope they're being smart about it, Jess should be focusing on her degree, not a man."

You shook your head, "we've all been there T, she's a smart women and Juice knows what she wants out of life."

"Alright then, but you know those young ones, they fall in love and that's it."

You sighed, "I know but Juice is a good man, he's never ask her to throw away her dreams."

****

You grew more nervous as the day went on, more so for Ima and Abel than yourself. As you readied yourself to leave, you called Vance one last time, "shock and awe is ready, the moment they break in they'll do dealt with."

You rubbed your face, "are they sitting on the house?"

Things would change drastically if they were, "nah, we've had someone watching the street since you left this morning, no one's there."

You breathed a sigh of relief, "alright, are the guys there?"

"Ready and waiting, Aden just dropped Ima off at Anvil. The moment it gets dark you should be ready for things to jump off."

Your eyes fell to the photo of Jax and Abel on your desk, "let's hope this is the last of it."

Vance huffed, "let's hope but you've still got to get Galen on Jax's side."

You sighed, "I know. I'll call later."

"I'll be waiting."

****

It was later than you expected when the van showed up outside the property, you had fed everyone, Aden swallowing down the vegetable puff like he was starving, "you gonna let Hale know he needs to go see Clay?"

You nodded, "Vance gave him the lowdown about an hour ago, he waiting for the text."

You sent it off the second you stopped talking then set up the house, the sound of the van pulling up filling the front section of the house, "ready?"

"Ready." Only the kitchen light was on, you hid your rifle under the table, gripped in your hand, ready to raise it while the others stood around the room, hidden behind corners and doors, ski masks covering their faces. The camera binged as they walked into the porch, then the alarm system beeped and the door opened. You grabbed to gun and stood up while the others came out from their hiding places, "hands up, move and you die." They paused, the jump of flight slipping into their bones, "move and you die." You waved the gun at your friends and they approached the Nomads, dripping them to the floor before zip tying their hands.

"Time to have some fun."

****

Jax had done what you had asked and made sure the day was set up so that Clay could be pulled aside by Hale and the others could leave for your plan. Jax took a deep breath when he got your text and turned to Kozik, "we got to head to my place."

Kozik's eyebrows wrinkled, "don't ask any questions man, it will all be explained."

They got on their bikes and drove to your home, meeting everyone but Clay on the way, "what the hell is going on?"

Jax swallowed, "let's go inside."

When they walked in, they took off their shoes as usual and you were there waiting for them. "Hello gentlemen. Can everyone please make their way to the basement, we have some things to discuss."

You walked them downstairs and into the basement, "gentlemen, your home invaders." You waved your hand towards the three men tied to the ceiling by thick metal chains, their faces still covered, gags in their mouths.

"They're still wearing their ski masks?"

You nodded, "good observation Kip, they are still wearing their masks."

Their eyes moved to the men in the corner, their own masks covering their faces, "ignore them, they're here to help clean up the mess."

You smiled at Jax, "I've been lying to you, so have some of the men in this room. With good reason." You walked behind them, kicking one in the back, his grunt had their ears pricking. You pulled their masks and gags off one by one, smiling at the men standing as you were finished.

"Jax, Opie, Bobby, Chibs, Juice, Happy, Tig and Sam already knew your brothers were responsible for the break ins. I have proof that they shot my brother, and I have proof that they were the ones that went after Gemma and my child."

You walked over to the table, "this is a rendition certificate, my basement is no longer on US soil but for the next three hours, North Korean, I can do to them whatever is legal there to get the truth of who is behind this."

The Sons made no sound, "I need to remind you that this Club is still a part of a CIA operation, I have done my best to ensure that the Club has the choice in what actions you take but I am limited. I will leave you to your vote, not only in stripping their patches and killing them but in allowing me to use whatever means necessary to obtain the truth. My friends will still be here but please, act like they aren't."

The Nomads' former friends were looking at them with nothing but hatred. You left with another smile, "please make the right choice."

With the shutting of the door, Jax turned to his men, "we had to lie. If you didn't find out it wasn't because we didn't trust you, telling you put you at risk and as she said, the CIA is still running things."

Kozik swallowed, "she warmed me, when Sam was in the hospital, I knew something was going on and she warned me. We know this isn't on any of you brother, least of all your old lady."

Franky went to speak, only to be hit by one of the masked men, "shut the fuck up pig."

It was Billy, "let's vote this. All in favour of the Nomads losing their patch."

All their hands went up, "as for the mayhem, let's hear pro and cons."

Happy went first, "they were going to go after my mum and aunt. Y/n sent Derek to my house when this all started to look after them, they were waiting in the street."

"They shot me, at least one of them did."

Sam sounded calm but it was a depictive calm, it hid a burning rage. "They broke in here, they had no idea Ima and Abel wouldn't be here. That's the second time they've gone after a child."

Jax took it all in, "all in favour of the Nomads meeting Mr Mayhem?"

All their hands went up, "all in favour of my old lady torturing them to their last breath?" All their hands went up.

"I'll go get her."

Sam left and returned with you seconds later, Jax giving you a slow nod, "do what you need to do, they're dead anyway."

You smiled softly, "if you come clean now, you die fast. I know far far more than you think I do so lying would be bad for your health."

They looked at each other, Franky speaking first, "you can't do this."

You smiled, "yes I can, what Clay didn't tell you is that I was a CIA operative, the director and I are good friends. This whole thing, the coke, the drug, all of it, is part of a CIA op called Operation Silver Dawn."

Their eyes were wide, "I ran it, Romeo and Torres were taking their orders from me. Not only that but my primary job was this, killing people to ensure the government's interests were upheld. You are in the way of that, you would have died no matter what they voted, the question now is, how are you going to die, easy or hard."

"What do you want to know?"

You smiled and tilted your head, "I don't think I want to know anything from you Gogo, since you were the one driving."

He paled, "she was already all over the place, we never meant to hurt Abel."

You huffed, "but you did, and I want my pound of flesh for that."

You turned behind you, "anyone with a sensitive stomach should get out." Your tone wasn't just harsh, it was cruel.

One of the masked men stepped forward, "maybe it would be better just to get the info and get rid of them, we all want to see them suffer but you're getting married in six months, time to put this shit behind you."

Frank was never the voice of reason when it came to kids, "when did you become mother Teresa?"

You could tell he was smiling, "when I saw some very green faces in the crowd, now's not the time to show off."

You turned back to the Nomads, "well then, I guess if you tell me everything, you die quick. Who ordered this? Remember, I know the answer so this isn't for my benefit."

Greg swallowed, "it was Clay, he wants the gavel back." You smiled, Jax relaxing behind you, it was finally out in the open.

"So you mean to say that Clay told you to break into the homes of our friends and family and hurt them?"

Franky blinked, "yes."

You nodded, "did he order you to hurt Happy's mum and aunt." They looked at Happy, their eyes filled with fear, "I'm running things, gentlemen, if he wants to hurt you to get the answers of you, I'll let him." Happy smiled and stepped up to the table filled with tools.

"He told us to make it look bad."

You nodded, "did Clay order you to shoot my brother?"

This was getting dicier and dicier and everyone knew it, "yes."

You walked up to the table and picked up a knife, "who did it, I know so don't lie."

Greg looked like he was going to piss his pants, "it was me, I didn't plan to, I just had the shot."

You huffed, "so you don't want to take Sam's place in Ima's life?"

"I..I"

You smiled, "so you did do it because you want Ima for yourself. On to the next question, did Clay order you to go after Gemma?"

By the looks of their faces, you knew the answer, "yes, and before you ask, he knew Abel was with her, he didn't care."

You smiled, "someone's wising up. Was he the same when it came to breaking in here tonight?"

Greg nodded, "even knowing Ima's carrying Sam's baby?"

There was a commotion behind you, "what?" You turned around, their faces a mix of shock and rage.

"Ima is pregnant and Clay knew, she told him to see if he'd still go through with this." You could see things were about to get out of hand, your original goal was to show them how bad Clay was but it was getting to the point where you could see they might not be able to be in the same room with him, let alone continue acting like he's still their brother.

"Lastly, what did Clay tell you to do to me?" They didn't say anything, "I'm waiting, you should answer before things get bad for you."

Jax was standing behind you, you could feel the rage coming off him. "He told us to make sure Jax never got over it."

Jax stepped forward, only to be stopped by one of the masked men, "it's done man, they'll be dead in a few minutes."

"You should all leave, you'll get a call in half an hour with the story of what's happened. You are to act like you have no idea you know who is behind this. Clay's punishment will come when I am certain Galen will work with Jax without causing any problems."

"What are you going to do with them?"

You turned behind you, "I'm going to deal with them, I need to make it look like they broke in here and I killed them to defend myself so my friends here are going to help me stage a crime scene. You need to hurry up and leave, Hale is currently with Clay trying to keep him distracted, I need to do this one."

They left one by one, you pressing a kiss to Jax's lips before he left, "hey darlin."

"Yes my love?" Jax smirked, "make it bloody."

****

"What I'm trying to say Clay, is that Jax can't keep the town safe. I've always wanted what's best for Charming, and that it's Jax." Clay looked smugger than smug when Hale got the call, he walked away and came back a few moments later, doing his best to act worried, "y/n house has just been broken into."

Clay shot up, "what? Is she ok?"

Hale nodded, "she is but the guys that broken in aren't. They're all dead."

It took Clay a few seconds to reply, "who?"

Hale rubbed his face, "your Nomads."

****

When Hale got there, Jax and Sam were already waiting. You were sitting on the steps covered in blood. Clay was close behind, when you locked eyes with him you could see the false worry pasted all over his face. You ran past Hale, not even sparing him a second look and punched him in the face before saying a word, "did you do this?"

He wiped his face, "what do you mean?"

You shoved him, Hale stepping in front of you so you couldn't do any more damage, "did you order this? You're the only one who makes any sense."

"I know you hate me, but I would never order someone to hurt your family, the Nomads must have been taking their orders from someone else."

By this time, the other Sons had arrived and were surrounded you, "then swear on your patch. Swear on your patch in front of everyone that you didn't do this."

He didn't even pause, "I swear on my patch I didn't do this."

You crossed your arms over your chest, "I need to give my statement and then wash all this blood off me, please process my house so I can get back to my life."

Jax put a hand on your shoulder, "are you alright?"

You nodded, "I'm fine."

Sam rubbed his face, "where are Ima and Abel?" You knew this was all for show for Clay, "I sent them to Anvil through the back so they didn't see the dead bodies, speaking of."

They were taking the bodies away in body bags, Jax stomping over, "I want to see them." The coroner, a good friend of yours, didn't protest as he unzipped the body bags, "you slit their throats?"

"I didn't want to make any noise and I didn't want to shoot a gun in our home that we share with our child." It's already been declared as justified, they have the camera footage. I just need to give my formal statement and they'll let us back in the house to clean up."

Jax realised why you had told them to stay away for so long after they left, you needed to make it all look real.

"I'm sorry darlin, this is on me."

You shook your head, "no, it isn't. It's on whoever ordered this." With one last glance at Clay, you went inside to clean up.

****

The days passed slowly after that, things had gotten very quiet with the Club. It seemed they were still reeling from the revelation that four of their own were the cause of all this pain. Hale and the other cops spent hours and hours grilling the members. Clay was doing his best to act like he was just as upset as everyone else but they could all see through it, Jax and Sam would come home every day wound tight like they had spent the whole day clenching their jaws.

Gemma still had no idea what was going on, you and Jax had stopped by her house the morning after the break in and told her what happened, Nero was there with her so you left him to comfort her while you went back to your day. Things were still pretty bad between the three of you, but after the worry it must have caused her, you let her stop by once a day to see Abel for a little while.

You were getting your dress ready for the gala the next day, watching Jax and Gemma play with Abel, "do you think she's over it now? Nero said she's been sober."

Jax shook his head, "when she finds out Clay is behind this, she'll be right back to where she was. Abel better get used to only seeing her for a few hours a week."

You put a hand on Jax's shoulder, "give her a chance, she's trying."

Jax huffed, "yeah, I just hope she doesn't think this undo what she did. You heard the Nomads, she was already all over the road."

****

Jax had been trying to sneak a look at your dress for the last few hours, "come on darlin, let me see it."

You chuckled, "no way in hell Teller, you're going to have to wait. Finish putting on your suit."

Jax huffed through the door, "you know, if I win out bet, you're just making it worse on yourself."

You shook your head as you pinned your hair up, "who says you're going to win?"

"I always win, you don't think I can behave myself?"

You could hear him right at the bathroom door, "no, I don't. You ready?"

You could see the smirk on his face without even knowing he was wearing it, "hell yeah." You opened the door and stood in the doorway with your hands on your hips, Jax's eyes going wide, "ah, fucking hell darlin." The dress was skin tight, a mix of bronze and gold with a slit up your thigh, bunched triangular shoulder straps and a sweetheart neckline.

"You like?"

He smiled, "how did you fit that fancy underwear under that dress doll?"

You smiled seductively, "I guess you'll only find out if you win."

You looked him up and down, "love the suit, the bowtie makes you look very fancy."

Jax smirked, "oh, come on darlin, we both know what you prefer."

You smiled, "well yes, but just because I find you most attractive in nothing but your smile, doesn't mean I don't like the suit."

****

Jax took your arm the second you stepped out of he car, looking around at the function hall. "Wow, I'm impressed. How did you manage to make that shitty old building look like this?"

You smiled, "a lot of our guys are really skilled, we've paid for a few design and architectural degrees as long as they use their skills with Anvil."

Jax nodded, "it really is a family business, isn't it?"

You pressed your lips to his neck in thanks, "as much as a business based on killing people can be."

You met the security at the door, the man waving you in with a smile, "I didn't think you were going to make it tonight y/n."

You shook your head, "there's always time for a party Jerry."

Galen was already there, speaking with the make backer you had mentioned to Jax, "is that him?"

You nodded, "yep, and they're already getting along."

You smiled at Galen as he walked over, "y/n, Jackson, this is a lovely venue."

"We are looking at having similar ones in other states, it's hard to find someone to host us when half the people here have affiliations with the IRA."

There was an almost impeccable shake of Jax's head, "I thought they'd keep that under wraps."

You shook your head, "not so much anymore. There's a growing dislike of the monarchy in my generation, it's no longer only white men screaming about their destroyed history, it's people my age grieving over the past they never got to even read about."

Galen nodded, "I had no idea you were so passionate about something that doesn't involve you."

You did your best not to be nasty, "how does this not involve me? The destruction of history affects all of us, as does colonisation. I wouldn't be here if I didn't care."

Galen smiled, "you don't hold back, do you?"

You shook your head, "why would I. Now, we have very many exhibits here tonight, would you like a private tour before everyone else?"

****

You took Jax and Galen through the private room where all the artefacts were, "this one is by far my most favourite. His name is Gearoid Gergeroson, he was killed just after the turn of the ninth century in a land spat. I managed to identify his remains through almost two years of research. He was killed with a traditional Gaelic javelin or Ga but it wasn't the huge blow to the head you can see on the skull that killed him, it was an infection."

Jax had a smile on his face, Galen not so much. "Why wasn't he left where he was buried?"

You smiled sadly, "his last resting place was destroyed in the troubles, his remains were rotting in some private collector basement somewhere. Part of tonight is raising money to have him returned to what would have been his homeland for burial once the exhibit is done."

Galen actually backtracked, "that is a very decent thing to do considering how hard it must have been to find out who this man was."

You shook your head, "no it wasn't, he was buried with many things, the people who buried him loved him very much and wanted him to have a peaceful resting place, I see it as my duty to ensure that."

Jax glanced at Galen who seemed impressed, "you are someone who is bound by your sense of duty, aren't you?"

You nodded with a smile, "sadly yes, it's why I'm here rubbing shoulders with the people at the gala and not at home with my child."

You walked them through and showed them the other items, Galen showing off his catholic education. "This damage was the result of a Viking raid."

You nodded, "yes it was, I'm impressed Mr O'Shay. The religious artifacts, were melted down for their gold but this one was saved by a monk who hid in the floor when the warriors landed. It was the only one left."

When the tour was done, you went back into the main room, which was set as a ballroom with some paintings and people walking around with horderves. "The pictures are from Irish artists who focuses on Irish history, they're all for sale. Now, if you'll excuse me gentlemen, I have very many people to talk to, so please, socialise, get to know each other outside of business." You walked away to talk with another guest, leaving Jax and Galen with each other.

"Do you think she planned this whole thing to get us alone?"

Jax nodded, "I'm willing to bet money, she knows what she's doing. You know she's not going to rest until Clay is in the ground, not after what he did to Abel."

Galen nodded, "I know, I may not have children but if anyone hurt them, I would chase them down to the ends of the earth. You have to respect a woman who is willing to overstep her man's authority to ensure the safety of her child."

Jax balked, "don't let her hear you say that, with what she can do, the Club needs her more than the other way around."

"Well, it seems we both need her. Considering if she hadn't stepped in, Clay would still be lying to the Kings."

Jax's eyes wrinkled, "you took what he said to the Kings?"

Galen nodded, "I had to, he's lied to all of us Jackson. This transition will make us all very rich and keep the cause going for far longer than it would if the Sons had stayed in charge. Plus, I have a feeling that y/n is going to be whispering in your ear no matter what you're taking to the table and I can tolerate her far more than you."

Jax huffed, "oh really, why is that?"

Galen smiled, "because she's practical, and even if she was doing something to get something out of me, she never lied about it. I appreciate how honest she's been."

Jax smiled, "she only ever lies if the truth is going to hurt someone's feelings, it's very sweet."

Galen smiled, "I think as long as she is there to be a buffer, you and I are going to get along fine."

****

You met Jax and Galen half an hour later, by one of the landscape paintings, "how much for this one?"

Galen was pointing to an oil of a meadow, " two thousand, fifteen hundred if you buy her other work on the other side of the room."

Galen smiled, "I think my mother would like both, who do I see to buy it."

You pointed to the table at the back, "Mr Coopers, he will organise shipping and handling as well." Galen walked away to buy the paintings and Jax could barely hold back his smile.

"I'm winning darlin, I'm gonna have you swallowing your words by the end of the night."

You smiled and leaned in close, brushing your red lips on his ears, "I hope I'm swallowing more than my words Jackson."

He went red, "don't misbehave."

You pressed your lips together, "I'm not, I'm just being honest."

Jax shook his head, "and now you're asking for it, we don't have long left, if you're good for the rest of the gala I'll go easy on you."

"I don't want you to go easy on me Jackson, but you're getting ahead of yourself, we still have two hours left."

You took a little pie from the plate that was being carried by and held it close to his face "horderve?"

****

The night wore on, Galen was making friends fast and it seemed he was right at home with everyone by the time the speeches rolled along. Everyone moved into one of the backrooms and sat down on the chairs, their eyes focusing on the podium, the speeches went by fast then it was your turn, you smiled at the crowd before starting, Jax's excitement was palatable. "Hello everyone, I'm Dr l/n, or y/n as most of you know me and I'm here to today to talk to you about the restoration of lost history."

Jax was looking at you like you were the only person on the planet, "history is destroyed every day, through war and crime and theft but it's a myth that isn't gone forever. With enough money, time and dedicated people, we can bring these things back, we can give to our children what we never had." Everyone was captivated, "I am here because of my child, his father is sitting in this room right now. I want to share Ireland's history just as much as I can share the history of Rome, Greece, or Carthage."

You looked to Jax every time you felt you were going to stutter, "we don't get much help to do that, and my job is not this, it's telling the stories of people who have had their lives stolen other by people in acts of violence, I am overwhelmed with bodies from ten months ago, so I can't do much but you can. So I'm asking you to open your hearts and your pocket books and help us with this exhibit."

There were claps all around, Galen leaning in to talk to Jax, "I see there's another reason she brought us here."

Jax chuckled, "she would say you need to give your soul a helping hand by putting some of that blood money to use." Galen huffed but Jax interrupted, "don't man, she doesn't even want to hear about the money from the coke."

There was a slight smile on Galen's face, "she is very convincing."

****

At the end of the night, you and Jax wished everyone goodbye and met Galen at the door, "thank you for inviting me y/n, I must say this night has been very enlightening. I will advise the Kings that my opinion of Jackson has changed greatly, I think this is the start of a very prosperous relationship and I'm looking forward to the day when the Club can step back and open my organisation to new and exciting business opportunities."

Jax's smirk made his face ache as he stuck his hand out, "don't mind Jackson and his psychopathic smile, I just lost a bet."

Jax chuckled, "yep, now if you'll excuse us Galen, I need to collect my winnings. I'll call you when Clay is dealt with." Jax pulled you away, Galen standing by his hire car with a smile.

The night had gone great and it was about to get so much better.

****

When you got home, Jax knelt down and took your shoes off before directing you to the kitchen to get you some food. "Here, have something to eat and drink with me then we'll go upstairs." Jax set out some leftovers from tonight's dinner and ate with you, cleaning up when you were done. "Great, now I want you to go into out bathroom, remove your makeup, take down your hair and refresh your dress then put that pretty red lipstick back on and wait until in the bathroom till I tell you to come out."

You smiled, "alright, I can't see to see what you've got planned."

You did as he asked, waiting in the bathroom as you heard him doing something in the bedroom, then there was a knock on the door, "you can come out now darlin." The tone of his voice let you know you were going to be in for some fun. The St Andrews Cross Jax had brought at the conference was out, as was a whole host of toys lined up behind it. Jax had set up pillows and blankets on the floor under the cross, you imagine because he was going to stick to the threat he made the other day of you being unable to walk.

"Wow, you even bought the super fancy one with the extra padding."

Jax smiled, "only the best for my girl."

Jax stepped towards you, his hands gracing your shoulders, "thank you for doing as I asked."

You smiled, "I lost a bet, I have to pay my debt."

Jax nodded, "if you want me to stop, what are you going to say?"

Even after all this time, he still managed to warm your heart, "no, stop, slow down, that hurts."

Jax smiled, "good girl." He brushed your sleeves off then, without breaking contact, moved to your back to unzip the dress.

"I can't see pockets."

You shifted your hands and shoved them into the hidden hole, "they're secret pockets."

Jax laughed, "why am I not surprised."

He took the dress off, put it on a hanger and hung it over the bathroom door, "thank you."

Jax smiled, "you worked hard on it, I don't want it getting damaged." Once that was done, Jax stepped back and took in your lingerie, "wow, I love this set." His eyes were stuck on your breasts, "the lace is very nice."

You shook your head, "I know that Teller, I picked it out myself."

"Be good."

He took your hand and led you to the cross, holding you steady as you stepped onto the platform, "how are you going to get these off?"

Jax smiled, "well, I'm going to take them off now before I strap you down." You rolled your eyes, Jax's eyebrows going up, "you want to try that again?"

You did your best to hold back your smile, "sorry, thank you." Jax came in close and kissed your shoulder dome before removing your bra, kissing your skin as it was revealed.

He took off the panties next, kissing your legs as they came free. Then he grabbed your arms and strapped you down, "are you comfortable?" You nodded, "can you reach the quick release?" You flicked your fingers and opened the straps, Jax closing them again when he saw you could free yourself in an instant then he moved to your legs, "still good?"

You shifted your toes, "yep, all good."

Jax smiled, "gee, you are trying hard to be good. I would have gotten a lot of lip by now."

"Careful Jax, I'm trying because I lost a bet but if you want me to be a brat I can."

Jax shook his head, "nope, I really like you like this." He took his time running his hands up and down your naked body, pressing his lips to his favourite places as he went. When you were pushing into his hands, he picked up the wand off the bench behind you, "you ready?"

You swallowed, "do your worst." You got the trademark Teller smirk before he was turning it on high and pressing it to your centre.

"Oh my God."

Jax chuckled, "Jax is fine."

You did your best to glare at him but he rolled his wrist and it sent you twisting away from the powerful sensations, "you're being a dick, I'm behaving."

Jax shook his head, "if you weren't I wouldn't be letting you cum whenever you want, if you want me to change that I can."

His tone was so smug, "eat a dick Teller."

Jax peck you, his lips lingering on the side of your face. He kept rolling his wrist, the wand at full speed until you twitched around nothing, "that's one."

You lifted your head off the padded board, "what?"

He kissed your cheek, "don't worry, there'll be more where that came from." He flipped the direction of the wand so the cord was pointed at your face and he could fit his hand between your legs, sliding two thick fingers inside you and rubbing your G-spot, "always so wet for me, my good girl." Jax watched your face carefully as he worked you up again and again and again, smiling as you tried to jump away from his insistent fingers.

"You doing alright?" It took you a few seconds to answer, Jax turning down the vibration and stopped his fingers, pulling them out and groaning as he licked you off them.

"I'm good."

He kissed you, all softness and love, "good girl, I love you so much."

You smiled, "I love you too."

Jax chuckled and pulled the wand away, looking to the bench for his next tool, "how about this one?"

He held up the rabbit that was your favourite when he was away on a run, his eyebrows up in question, "whatever you want my love."

"Whatever I want? Careful darlin, I might take you up on that." He circled your entrance with the tip before slowly sliding it inside you, "my good girl." He started slow, moving it in and out without turning it on, when your hips were pushing towards his hand, he flipped it on its lowest setting and kept thrusting it at the same pace. "You want more?"

You nodded, "yes please."

Jax turned it up and quickened his wrist, "so polite, I wish you were always like this."

You giggled, "no you don't, I'd be no.."

He cut you off with a kiss, "you're always fun, unless you want me to punish you about talking bad about my girl, I'd stop."

"Sorry, Jax."

He kissed you again, "no need to be sorry beautiful." He was pressing kisses to you neck as he fucked you with the toy, his nose bumping your skin while his bread left a trail of heat. Before long you were cumming around the toy, Jax chuckling as your gasps became more desperate, "how many is that now?" You didn't answer, the spaces in your brain normally used for thinking floating away from your skull, "it must be at least eight, shall we make it ten?" You whimpered, "alright, I'll go easy on you, can you give me one more then I'll take you down?"

"I think so." Jax smiled and stepped closer, his still jacketed chest pressing to yours as you came.

When he pulled away, he pulled off his clothes as you caught your breath, coming back to touch you the moment he was naked, "you doing good?"

You nodded, "I think so, give me a bit to catch my breath?" Jax nodded and started to take you down, holding your upper body as you sunk to the pillow and blanket covered floor to lay down in his arms.

Jax ran his hands over your sweat covered back, his face pressed to yours, "you up for more?"

You stretched out and dropped your arm over his body, "of course."

Jax huffed, "you're insatiable."

You smiled and nuzzled into his chest, "only for you."

Jax hiked your legs over his hip and grabbed his cock, grunting as he finally felt some relief as your warmth surrounded him, "holy shit you're so wet."

Jax's hand moved to your hip as he hit his stride, the head of his cock brushing your G-spot with each thrust. Despite the way you were filching away from him, you were still desperate to have him close, "more, please."

Jax nipped your lip, one hand going to your clit, "after all that? You are insatiable."

"Are you're insufferable."

Jax quieted you with a kiss, "hush now darlin, you've been so good so far, don't make me be mean." You gave up after that, accepting how Jax manhandled you onto your back as he reached his peak, "give me one more darlin and then we'll be done." You clawed his arms and back as you came one last time, your vision going white as you felt him cum inside you.

"There we go, good girl." Your head fell against the pillow as he pulled out and rolled away, taking you with him in his arms. You were unsure of how long it took you for the feeling in your toes to come back, Jax smiling as you shifted your limbs, "you doing good?"

You nodded and took a deep breath, "yeah, I'm not going to be able to walk in the morning but I'm doing alright, you happy you won?"

Jax chuckled, "hell fucking yeah I am, we should do this more often." You shook your head, "you say hat now but we still need to clean up."

Jax stood up, taking your hand in his to take you with him before pressing a kiss to your lips, "let's get you cleaned up first, this can wait." Jax led you into the bathroom and ran the shower, sitting on the edge of the bath to talk to you while you washed, "you think tonight went well?"

You made a face, "I don't know, I lost count of the orgasms you gave me so I think so."

Jax huffed, "I know that went well, I'm talking about O'Shay."

"Yep, after this he won't be a problem."

You climbed out, swapping places with Jax as he got in to get clean, "and Clay?"

You took a deep breath, "have church in the afternoon, I'll show up and burst his bubble then."

You suddenly felt unbearably sleepy as Jax smiled out of the shower, "good idea darlin, you want to hit the hay."

"Yes please."

Jax followed you into the bedroom, pulling back the covers and waving you in, "get comfy, I'll clean up." You watched him wipe everything down and put it all away before he returned to the bed and wrapped his arms around you as you rested your head on his chest, "goodnight darlin, I love you."

"Goodnight beloved, I love you too."

Part 54

[genshingarbage]

Hiii, Good Morning/Good afternoon/Good evening Mod Kaeya,Mod Diluc^^, It's my first time requesting, Can I request? Angst with any Genshin Impact characters?,Soo The genshin characters are much more spending time with Lumine? Then the reader asks why they aren't spending much time with them and the genshin characters snaps and said the readers are weak ( reader is already insecured because they can't fight) and they have work to do then the reader leaves to fight hilichurl camps and unfortunately there's 2 Mitachurls ,luckly the genshin characters were on time to save the reader? Then they apologized to them? (It's Gn reader^^) sorry if it's alot and sorry if my grammar is wrong you both can disregard this ask stay safe ^^

Good afternoon dear Traveler!! Well done for making your first request! And such a lengthy one too oh my~ Your grammar is fine don’t even worry about it. Sorry for the long wait, Mod Diluc and I have been busy on the Kuzuha banner haha but I hope you enjoy this tear jerking tale (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧- Mod Kaeya

Recommending this song for this oneshot!

Go checkout Anna_drw01 for more art like this!! Here’s her artstation!

The distant scientist, renowned for being hard to get close to was someone you used to consider one of you closest friends. The two of you spent day and night together, hellbent of cracking open every single challenge you possibly could together. Many considered you two to be able to solve any mystery put in front of you together.

The keyword was together.

There was a mystery you yourself couldn’t solve; Why was Albedo’s time with you slowly becoming a rarity?

You’d been wondering why he’d been spending so much less time in the lab he’d meticulously built over years of his life or on site where his precious research was being buried little by little by crystalline flakes, tending to his experiments and recording time sensitive data that would be valuable for months to come for the research team. Albedo had been gone so long both you and Sucrose had designed a plan in order to cover the work he’s left unattended whilst managing your own on top of the store. It was beginning to get concerning. If the leader of the investigation squad was absent constantly then what did that mean for the rest of you? Surely he was only gone for the sake of something important he’d found, something he placed above everything else he was researching. That’s what you lent yourself into believing.

That is, until you saw him with her.

You couldn’t blame him honestly, Lumine was gorgeous. Her golden hair and fiery eyes are what a lot of men probably look for in a partner, even more so was the mystery behind her origins and the raw power she held in her fingertips at any given moment.

You didn’t have to have a vision to be able to tell that.

Maybe that was another thing he sought in her.

A traveling partner that could wield the powers of the elements, a traveling partner that could hold their own against the world. Maybe that wasn’t all he was looking for but also a romantic partner.

He finally came back to the investigation camp briefly one night, it was during a particularly rough blizzard ravaging across Dragonspine and the areas surrounding it a little like a turbulent child tossing snowflakes across already painted, buried monochrome peaks. He trudged into the camp with her rambunctious adventuring party, shouted something over the whipping wind about how they should get warm inside one of the communal tents dotted around the sparse camp halfway up the summit you inhabited and then ducked into the burgundy tent you were working away in with nothing but the clinking of vials harmonizing with the bubbling of flames. It was nothing but candle light right then in the morbid lonely night, only the sounds of the howling gales outside of the ones in your lab. If you’d felt like you were being watched during the night before now, Albedo’s piercing analytical gaze did nothing but soothe the loneliness you’d held inside yourself all night.

“I need a strong multi use Geoculus locator, if we have any.” The blonde said

He must’ve seen your shoulders perk up because he waited patiently as you searched through the shelves upon shelves of prototypes you’ve developed. After somehow finding one, you patted over to him. He seemed pleased with your work, if a bit distant as usual. He was in a good mood so you guessed would be the best time if any to ask. “Sir… with all due respect why have you been away so long?”

Albedo’s pale face was blank as usual though he blinked as if surprised you spoke, “Lumine needed someone with a sufficient Geo vision, I happened to be the one she knew the best to get the job done.”

“So you’ll be returning?”

“I never said that.”

You tried not to take it harshly, this was just how he spoke after all. “…could I come along then?” It was a long shot yes but you still missed his company, if it meant having to deal with him getting buddy buddy with that Outrider then you would suffer. 

It was quiet for a moment between you two as you stared him down and he observed the locator thoroughly. After he was pleased enough with the golden glowing device it was packed away into his back pocket without so much as a second thought, the man was obviously stalling while he thought carefully over the question but the result wouldn’t be to your liking evidently. You were about to make  a point you hoped would be convincing before he spoke, his voice sharp and words cold like the very ice being tossed around the blackened sky.

“No, you’re not a skilled enough fighter so you’d only slow us down more than we can handle to be right now. You’d be useless to us.” He put a hand to his chin for a moment in thought, “If you’d had been able to development a synthetic elemental burst like Sucrose’s swirl mark II…I would have considered but you can’t even do that.”

Watching him leave with them the morning after was torturous, they rushed off into the snowy landscape with barely a goodbye and never a second glance from Albedo beyond that. It stung.

Maybe that’s why when hilichurl camps, specifically ones becoming a nuisance to caravans as well as supply lines along Dragonspine almost avidly to the near point where there would be commissions called in, were brought up in conversation you elected to take a weapon and simply clear them out yourself. You could barely fight one off but usually they were smaller towards the base of the mountain so you figured it would be alright. You would just patch yourself up if you got a bit injured. Surely the pain of the injures would busy your silly little heart long enough to forget about Albedo and his cruel words to you, surely you would barricade your feelings of pining behind walls of broken bones and struggling through the snow. Maybe that was the remedy, the answer you needed to your mystery. Your pleas would probably be hidden by the snowstorms anyways.

Mitachurls unfortunately inhabited bigger camps. Thankfully, Frost Lawlichurls tended to live alone. The former happened to find it’s way to you, charging with the might of a bull on ozmanthys wine. As you were bowled over you heard an abrupt shout, maybe saw a brief flash of familiar golden light as the battle grounds around you erupted further into chaos but it didn’t matter that pale arms were abruptly gripping you to a panicked sword user. Your vision was to blurry, the shouts of attacks and spells too muffled and faint, your body felt too limp to comprehend even the though of moving. You could barely breathe.

Someone was muttering, crouched around you and holding you close, muttering something over and over again. Something important. The feeling of their lips pressed against your forehead, his quiet gut heaving sobs as he rocked you back and forth. Albedo’s pleas for you to just hang on a moment longer—

Where were you again?

There was sunlight and it was warm, a pleasant warmth that almost lulled you back to the sleep you’d fallen into. The only thing that kept you awake was that this was indeed not your bed.

Where were you?

Sitting up hurt, your whole body ached and you were certain something must have been rearranged or was missing because the pain shot through you like an arrow. Your sharp exhale alerted the two others in the room, one who immediately sprinted to get a nurse in an emerald and navy flurry of skirts and capes.

You were dizzy, only steadied by a gentle hand on your limp shoulder. Ah, when did you turn to face him?

The blonde man infront of you asked if you remembered what happened, his voice was soft but didn’t hold any emotion. The smoky circles around his beautiful striking cerulean eyes did nothing but worry you slightly as they implied a long period of time without sleep. You’d imagine him to be the sciency type who didn’t really know what to think of other people so he stayed nose deep in books to pass the time, though there was a deep sadness in the way he held himself you couldn’t understand.

“I don’t…who are you?” You thought you saw him flinch but figured it was a trick of the light.

“No one important, nevermind me.” The man sat up with an unreadable expression even for how blank it had been for this whole brief conversation after you had awoken, getting up from his chair to begin walking to the door when he stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“…for what?” You didn’t understand.

“Nothing that would natter now, please. Rest.”

You didn’t remember.

[helenazbmrskai]

This Summer

Guess who’s back with another yoongi fic featuring my favourite trope so here’s another brother’s best friend au, I wanted to try a different setting for this one since I like summer camp aus a lot (and there’s not enough of it on this site I tell you) and I never did something similar to this also I’m sorry that there will be mistakes in here because I wrote this in three days but I’ll proofread it once I have the energy.

🏕️Title: ‹This Summer›

🏕️Pairing: ‹brother’s best friend and camp counsellor! yoongi x new camp counsellor! reader ft. brother and camp counsellor! hoseok›

🏕️Genre: ‹brother’s best friend, summer camp, camp counsellor, romance, fluff, angst, smut, idiots to lovers›

🏕️Summary: ‹This summer you’re going to stop liking min yoongi for good. The plan is flawless until it’s not (but you’re not the only one with plans.)›

🏕️Warnings: ‹smut, making out, oral (both parties) receiving, penetrative sex, condom sex, dirty talk, yoongi is jealous of jungkook having your boobs against his chest, y/n avoids yoongi like it’s her life mission for like 5k straight, a lot of angst but there will be fluff too so don’t worry, awkward tension, sexual tension, clueless hobi, everyone is stupid in this, jungkook likes meddling with y/n’s life a little bit too much, poor tae facing yoongi’s wrath without any reason lol›

🏕️Word count: ‹12.3k›

🏕️Masterlist l read radio sweethearts if you want another brother's best friend yoongi l enjoy!

Your brother is a ticking time bomb, no one knows when he’s going to take something into his head, he’s that annoying sibling that’s always full of energy and twists everyone around his pinky finger on family dinners. You love him with your whole heart, considering you ripped that mean girl’s hair out in elementary school when she called your baby brother (who is older than you but shh) ugly and made him cry.

Hoseok and you are polar opposites he’s cheery and positive always have a big smile on his face, ready to help all the old ladies with heavy shopping bags cross the street while you’re on the quiet side and often misunderstood.

It’s easy to see on holiday dinners and get-togethers that your relatives favour him over you because you’re less talkative and friendly, he has better achievements in life whilst you struggle with school but those you’re close with know the real you and awkward conversations about your nonexistent boyfriend because you’re so deeply in love with your brother’s best friend is not the best ice breaker your distant grandmas try to pull on you. Even so, when Yoongi decides to tag along to those said dinners accompanied by his parents and little sister, might just hell break loose.

The second man who basically acts like he lives in your house is your best friend slash knight in shining armour and partner in crime; simply named Jeon Jungkook for good measure who is your next-door neighbour. You have tons of unforgettable memories with him as he was the one you went to prom with, annoyed all the teachers on field trips with your loud rap battles and cried on each other's shoulders as you graduated high school together.

Your friendship with him came as a surprise to all your family members as they originally thought your brother and him will become close but instead, he spent most of his time with you while yoongi and hoseok with their other friends hang out separately. On rare occasions, your group would mix and go to see a popular movie or play games at the arcade on someone’s birthday.

Summer usually is the time when things are a little slow. No assignments to do or classes to attend, your brother leaves in early July for this summer camp that’s half a day far away from your home with his friends and the last two summers even Jungkook applied to be a camp counsellor as he likes to be surrounded by kids and nature just like your brother does so literally, everyone left for some time leaving you alone in your hometown with nothing to do but it was better this way because away from Hoseok meant that Yoongi will be far away too.

Your brother tries to persuade you every year to go with them but you always have to decline, sometimes your no is firmer than other times because Hoseok is excellent at using his puppy eyes on you.

However, this summer you had other plans. There’s no bell to ring once the last class is dismissed for the semester, tired from your finals you’re going to dedicate at least a week to catch up on your sleep and fix your eating habits but you have a big smile on your face as you climb into Jungkook’s run-down Ford slamming the car door behind your body since they don’t function properly sometimes. This car is his prized possession, got it for his 18th birthday after he successfully passed his test (at the forth try) and bragged about his driving license to you for over two weeks although you only dared to sit next to him after two months. Jungkook named his car Adonis and forbid you of disrespecting his little baby if you want to ever get a lift so you let him be.

Back to your important inner turmoil, you decided you will no longer simp over Min Yoongi your brother’s best friend and this summer you’ll get over him as a grown-up woman. Being in your second year at the local University that all the boys attend it’s surprisingly easy to avoid your brother and his friends and how everyone’s schedule seems to be so packed all the time during the semester, you don’t see them as much as you used to in high school.

”This was your last final, right?” Jungkook turns the ignition key ready to leave this hellhole of a place, holding your headrest with one hand as he turns to see the back of the car so he can back out of the parking lot without any accidents. You grab the smoothie from the cup holder before humming in agreement and take a sip whilst taking in your best friend’s features you haven’t seen for the past week.

”As soon as I get home I’m going to sleep till the next century.” Your dramatic response earns a chuckle and a jab to your left boob as he didn’t take his eyes off the road while delivering his hit. Jungkook wears his signature white tee with a pair of dark blue jeans no traces are left of the stress both of you went under, he was luckier than you as his finals ended a week ago.

”School sucks, we couldn’t even have fun together and I’m leaving next week. I’m going to miss you, you know. You really won’t come with us?” He tried to make you rethink your decision just like your brother but not even his bambi eyes can waver your summer plans, this time you fully intend to have one more Min Yoongiless summer, this silly crush you have on your brother’s best friend can’t continue.

”There’s always one place left for you at the camp Y/N. Hoseok would love to see you there too and we could spend so much time together.” The idea of spending a few weeks with Jungkook sounds nice but a voice in your head reminds you that Yoongi will be there too. He could be yelling at children and wear his trademark grumpy expression but you would still find something attractive about him. The worst part is that he’s never like that with you.

Yoongi is not as talkative as Jungkook or Hoseok, making him be more like you, at first you thought that your crush developed because he seemed to understand you in a different way your brother couldn’t. He cares for his friends, always making sure to show them by doing thoughtful gestures.

Hoseok tells his friends all the time that you and him are a package deal it’s either both of you or none of you, sometimes people have a problem with that but these five boys he hangs out with for years now are the good exception. You like them even though you don’t like all of Hoseok’s friends.

”I’m sorry Koo but I can’t, we talked about this before.” It’s not like you hate children because you don’t you’re not the best with them but they are ok, the heatwave is what you despise in summer camps. You love being in an air-conditioned place without bug bites all-around your ankles and not even the campfire with yummy marshmallows could persuade you to like outdoor activities.

Summer camps are just not your thing.

”What do you mean you signed me up?” The black t-shirt slips through your fingertips, it has a band logo at the front you remember Hoseok liked back in high school, his suitcase is halfway filled with clothes when he decided to tell you he faked your signature to sign you up as the new summer camp counsellor.

You admit that you have a weird talent for making nice origamis that kids would probably love to learn and a good addition to the routine activities, he would have swayed you with compliments if it weren’t for the fact that he faked your signature and signed you up for something you definitely said no to but still decided to do it without your permission. You heard nice things about the camp itself since it got renovated two years ago and Hoseok’s friends are nice people, he said their co-workers are nice people and your best friend would be there too, don’t get the wrong impression there, you even heard that the camp leader Seokjin is nice and a fun person not strict at all unless it concerns the kid's safety because he will not allow that.

”Don’t be mad, please. Jungkook and I just thought that this could be a fun experience for you, things will get busy next year so it’s going to be the last summer together like this. Pretty please?”

You sighed defeatedly as you can’t possibly say no to that when he phrases it like that. Hoseok looks at you with his round big eyes full of hope. Your summer plan was flawless until…it’s not.

Jungkook came almost knocking down your front door when you called him to come over after you were finally done helping Hoseok finish packing for the trip, you scolded your best friend for not stopping your brother as soon as he learned his scheme about ruining your summer plans you felt furious but he picked up on his way over to your house your favourite coffee flavoured candies and it made you forgive him too easily as you were soon munching on the treat.

It’s a huge disadvantage on your part that he knows your preferences so well. Now you can understand why he always seems so frustrated with you when you make him his favourite dish to get him to forgive you, this is just too much power to have over someone and when he crushes you with his tight hug listing out the things the two of you can do at the camp all of your remaining anger vanishes.

You will think about Min Yoongi later.

That later, however, comes sooner than you anticipated. Sitting on the kitchen stool drinking your coffee while all Hoseok’s noisy friends get a fill of breakfast and a cup of coffee, you have the unfortunate fate of housing all the boys to dine before getting on the road and after a lost rock, paper, scissors thanks to your brother’s ridiculous bad luck you become the host.

The kitchen got filled with animated chit-chats as they place a toast or two on their plates over the noises you almost don’t hear Jungkook next to you asking for the jam but you pass him the jar silently. Yoongi and Jimin are the only ones missing from the group because Yoongi has to drive Jimin to his parent’s place to pick up his car that he got repaired recently so they were running a bit late.

Namjoon is a new addition to the group after Hoseok met him in Uni so you don’t know him that well but he’s nice as far as you’re concerned, you talked to him a few times and his interesting topics never fail to entertain you. Jin steals a toast from Namjoon’s plate so he doesn’t need to get up and fetch one for himself but Namjoon looks too tired to care as he munches on his remaining one toast that his friend can’t steal because it’s halfway in his mouth.

Seokjin’s parents run the bakery on the main road so everyone knows him, he got introduced to the friend group when you were still in high school and you and Jungkook were regulars at the shop. Jin always sneaked a pair of baguettes for the two of you exclusively after you were finished with school.

It’s nice to see all these familiar faces after the stressful semester you had, momentarily forgetting about your problems you feel thankful that Hoseok went out of his way to ruin your plans and sign you up for this train wreck of an adventure, it’s been a while since everyone was together like this.

The doorbell rang interrupting Jungkook and Seokjin’s argument about who’s going to get the last toast piece but Hoseok perked up at the sound yelling excitedly that Yoongi and Jimin are here. Your brother quickens his pace after rising from his seat to open the door for them and grins when they step through the threshold.

Greetings are exchanged between friends and the place becomes livelier as the last pieces decide to join the puzzle, Jimin sees you first and knocks into Jungkook’s shoulder while he tries to get to you to give you a warm hug.

It’s been a while since you last saw Yoongi face to face, you’re added to the boy's group chat so in some depth you knew how he’s doing. He has been over at your house a few times hanging out with Hoseok but you always stayed late inside the library on the days he visited using the weak excuse that you need to catch up on school work so you had no chance of crossing paths with him coincidently while you were searching for a glass of water in the kitchen it’s humiliating enough that he saw you exit your bathroom wearing only a towel when you were a teenager.

Your curves became more defined and your body matured a lot over the years and knowing that he saw you like that when you had no ass or boobs. It’s embarrassing. Hoseok liked you that way because it meant no man would thirst over you as he liked to call it. The memory of him telling the boys that you’re off-limits and made them swear at the ’bro code’ to stay away from you is crystal clear in your mind even if now you are in your twenties.

The memory only makes your situation difficult as Yoongi probably doesn’t feel the same way.

As soon as Jimin steps back and releases you from the hug he has Jungkook in a headlock the next second, wrestling with the younger playfully, Jungkook is probably the closest to Jimin after you.

”Hey, it’s nice to see you.”

Yoongi has a half-smile on his face as he approaches you hesitantly pulling you into a hug like Jimin did but his approach is more gentle and careful as he pats your back with featherlight touches. His scent envelops your senses tuning out everything else that’s not him, it feels like forever that you hugged him, normally the two of you greet each other but rarely hug like this.

”Yeah, you too.” You murmur the words into his shoulder but he must have heard you because the side of his lips turned slightly upwards after you separate.

There are two cars available for the eight of you and Seokjin yells that it’s a matter of a game of rock, paper, scissors and everyone agrees as this is the common way your group chose who is riding with who.

”Easy, the losers ride with Jimin and the winners with Yoongs.” Jungkook is the first one to initiate the rules and everyone agrees except Jimin who whines about why he takes the losers but no one pays attention as the bloody battle starts. The first contestants are Namjoon and Hoseok and your brother ends up loosing while yelling like a banshee and making up excuses that he wanted to show rock and not paper as Namjoon choose scissors as his weapon.

You come up next with Jungkook as your opponent and you let a wicked smile appear on your face because no one knows him better than you, you know his move before he even thinks it through and you show paper getting your well-deserved victory.

Just later you realise that winners ride with Yoongi that you reconsider your decision, you were so caught up in your rivalry that’s your friendship’s base foundation with Jungkook at this point that it slipped your mind entirely.

Taehyung and Jin are the last ones to compete and the battle ends with Taehyung winning the last space in Yoongi’s car leaving Seokjin to dramatically kneel like a wounded soldier making fake sobbing noises. Taehyung ends up changing seats with Jungkook last moment and finally, everything is set to get going.

Jungkook and Namjoon take over the backseat as they loaded their luggage at lightning speed so they can claim their spot first leaving you with the only option to have the passenger seat at the front.

Yoongi obviously got behind the steering wheel entrusted with the task of operating the car throughout this long drive to the summer camp sight. Taehyung, Jin and Hoseok got into Jimin’s car like it was decided by the game.

The camp is bigger than you expected and the renovations got the place a little modern touch to it while still maintaining a close feel to nature with all the wooden houses and trees around but your favourite part is the lake at the far end of the campsite.

You share a room with a girl counsellor that spends her second year here, still, relatively new like yourself so it’s easy to befriend her. The campers will arrive the next day early in the morning Areum informs you as you two walk to the dining area to have the first meeting before everything starts.

By the end of the day, everyone knows you’re Hoseok’s little sister and new people approach you every now and then to confirm the facts and know a little bit more about you since everyone seems to like your noisy brother here (not that it surprises you), it looks like the counsellors are excited to start a new summer here and the atmosphere easily pulls you in, you watch Jimin and Jungkook have a water fight just to catch in the corner of your eye the figure of your brother pushing an unsuspecting Seokjin into the lake when he stands too close to the edge.

The day goes by like a flash as you hang out with Areum, she shows you her favourite places that consists of the greenhouse and the other side of the lake where there are built benches and tables for outdoor picnics.

Jungkook pouts during dinner fake crying that you replaced him and you have to forcefully spoon feed him to stop him from embarrassing you in front of all these unfamiliar people that gathered to have some quiet dinner. So everything goes smoothly, you have such a great time that it scares you.

It’s getting pretty late when all counsellors gather around the campfire to roast marshmallows and catch up with each other’s lives, you’re still new so you use this time to get to know Areum a little bit more since you and her are going to be responsible for entertaining the kids inside the art room alongside with Taehyung who teaches the kids how to paint.

You tell her about your silly hobby that landed you this job and she gets really excited to see your origami creations, you show the same enthusiasm when she reveals her major is classical statuary.

Even though Yoongi was always nearby it got easy to ignore his existence when so many new things surrounded you. It didn’t mean he fully left your thoughts throughout the day but made you feel that sense of false security that you could get over him. That all those years of pinning for your brother’s best friend could just vanish if you told your heart to stop skipping beats when he calls your name. Boose soon gets introduced to the mix and by the time midnight rolls around everyone is pleasantly buzzed and when Jungkook enters the state that he hangs off of you like a koala nuzzling his cheek into the crook of your neck you decided to call it a night.

You wake up with your head thumping inside your skull slightly feeling hangover; your roommate is in a similar state as you two approach the dining room getting small slices of bread to make a light sandwich.

You’re mid-bite into your food when you see Yoongi enter, walking alongside with your brother he catches your gaze sooner than you were able to look away and after they get their fills on their trays your loud brother flops down next to you with the loudest greeting that he could possibly muster up alerting everyone in the ten-metre radius.

Yoongi and you groan at the same time telling him to shut up like it’s a scripted response and your eyes meet for the barest of seconds before you focus on your half-eaten sandwich.

It’s hard not to look at him. Despite his gruff exterior, he’s very good at dealing with children, your activity where kids can learn how to fold origami is always after his cookie baking lesson and he smells like rough cookie dough and chocolate ship when he leads the kids into the art room where you would have all the coloured papers ready at each desk and folded a sample beforehand so they can use it as a reference if the instructions don’t look clear enough in the printed page.

The idea for this lesson formed last night, you were up all night as you researched on the internet how to fold hearts. It kept you up till the sun rose as you were trying out every folding technique that would look pretty but easier to do for the kids, you even accidentally cut your finger with the scissor while you were working using only the faint light from the lamp on the bedside table.

Yoongi greets you like he usually would wearing a little smile at the corners as he lets the kids inside first holding the door open for them, he always leaves silently after he delivered the campers to the art room but this time the door slides closed behind his form as he got dragged into the room by a kid named Minsung holding onto Yoongi’s hand he stood awkwardly while everyone else had a decided seat to take.

”Can Yoongi join us today Y/N?” Minsung asks holding Yoongi’s hand as he leads him further into the art room and every kid looks expectantly at you waiting for you to agree and seeing their faces you nod with a smile pulling out the chair next to you beckoning the embarrassed man to sit beside you.

He didn’t think you would say yes if he’s being honest. After you finished high school and he and Hoseok went to University and got busy with life he started to see you less and less, at first he didn’t think much of it but after some time it looked like that you’re actively avoiding him.

He has no idea why (that’s what eats him from the inside out on sleepless nights) he doesn’t remember saying or doing something that would make you upset and even now when you keep bumping into each other you seem skittish around him and he doesn’t like that, hence he even talked to Hoseok about this and your own brother couldn’t give him an answer why you started avoiding him.

”Do you know how to fold origami?” You ask him slipping papers in front of him as soon as he seats himself beside you, your heart beats inside your chest violently when you get enveloped in his scent yet again reminding you of the hug you shared that you’re afraid he’s going to hear it.

”I barely know how to fold my clothes.” The nervous joke lightens the mood as the kids laugh loudly the poor attempt at making you be more comfortable with him earns a little snort that makes a blush creep up your face rapidly in embarrassment but Yoongi thinks you sound adorable. You think you sounded like a troll.

”It’s fine I’ll help you.” Your little smile is still there even though your eyes are no longer on Yoongi as you focus on the kids, you tell them first what they will make and then go into detail how they can fold it while using the instructions and clearing some of the confusing images for them to understand it better. Lastly, you encourage them to not be afraid to ask if they have questions and you’ll gladly help them. It falls silent after as everyone gets absorbed in their work and you start making extra origamis for the children as usual until someone needs help.

Yoongi looks intent on finding out using the illustrations how to proceed and even though your instructions were pretty clear and well detailed he couldn’t figure out how to do it, he wastes two papers before he even got to the third step.

You see him struggling and he clearly gets worked up over it considering the number of creases appearing on his forehead once you get back to your desk after helping a kid figure out the instructions you move your chair closer getting his attention with the movement, your knees touch in the process but neither of you makes any moves to instal more distance between your bodies.

”Can I show you?” You reach for the scrambled paper but stop midway to look up and ask for permission.

Yoongi nods his head sliding the mess closer to you, observing as you unfold the paper and restart making more accurate lines and you immediately see what’s wrong with his shape. His measurements are off, even when he folded the paper in half that seemed uneven because he tried to fold it in one go and the paper sometimes moves around if you’re not careful enough.

After you fixed it and slid the paper to be in front of him you tell him your advice in a soft-spoken way. Heart still hammering inside your chest due to the closeness you share. ”Don’t rush through the steps, take your time while you fold it.” Your fingers touch briefly when you pass him the paper and you resume your working so it would take away from the embarrassment of how loud your heart beats because of him.

He looks so good today wearing a black oversized t-shirt with small prints in the front and even when his hair is damp with sweat his smile is able to melt your resolves any time you gaze up at those dark eyes.

Kids can be very attentive and they easily see how Y/N looks so smitten with Yoongi if those stolen sideway glances are anything to go by, every time he shows up you became a nervous ball of a mess it’s not rocket science to know you have a huge crush on the boy, the only mystery that campers can’t figure out is why you tiptoe around each other when Yoongi doesn’t seem indifferent either.

They often catch him looking at you as they run around the campsite during leisure activities led by Hoseok.

Minsung and Soohyung share a knowing smile as they watch them fold origami and it’s not overlooked by either of them when you focus back to do your work and Yoongi takes glances in your direction mesmerized by you, the task seems easy when he watches you do it.

A knock is followed by the appearance of your camp leader Seokjin leaning onto the doorframe interrupting your little bubble, looking at the kids with a fond expression before he addresses Yoongi and they leave together to discuss something, the activity is almost over as you learn glancing at the clock and Jungkook soon appears where Jin was a little while ago to get the kids.

Jungkook and your brother are the ones responsible for the outdoor activities and at the end of the day not only the kids are tired but their counsellors too by constantly running around to ensure everyone's safety.

Yoongi wanted to talk to you and help you clean up, have a real conversation in private, but things never turn out as he wants them to there seems to be always an obstacle standing between you two so he follows Jin to discuss a camp-related issue while he wishes he could spend a little more time with you.

If only you would tell him what he did wrong so he can fix it, this awkward state you two got stuck in makes him sad for some reason.

There was a time when you were greeting him with a big smile on your face and ask him about his day, he vividly remembers your chubbier cheeks and crooked teeth when you were younger but he doesn’t mind your feminine growth over the years, Yoongi always thought you will grow up to be a beautiful woman.

He remembers your prom dress, it was in a navy blue colour that complimented your fuller curves he only started to notice in your last year in high school, Jungkook posed beside you like you were Mr and Mrs Smith as your parents took pictures of you two and he found himself smiling fondly at you.

It was Hoseok’s birthday when the air shifted from platonic to something else in the short span of ten seconds, both of you were a little tipsy and you were sitting at a corner table together because neither of you wanted to hit the dance floor, the bar was packed and guys tried to hit on you numerous times just to be chased away by your brother’s antics.

You didn’t seem to mind that he prevented every guy from making a move on you and as you were all alone in a small booth chest to chest to hear each other over the loud music while you tried to tell him a story about Jungkook choking on fries at Mcdonalds when the waitress suddenly slipped her number scribbled onto a napkin trying not to ugly laugh yourself. His nose accidentally bumped into yours as he suppressed a laugh and if the others didn’t choose that exact moment to take a breather and have more drinks he thinks he would have probably kissed you right then and there.

The other time he felt something different while he was around you was when you and his friends took a trip to Busan to see the sea and you wore that one piece bikini, the bottom and top half were connected by a line of fabric but let your sides and hips be visible under the little clothing you had on.

Guys turned their heads when you passed them and he couldn’t even blame them like Hoseok because he looked at you a few times as well trying to seem as subtle as he possibly can since Hoseok otherwise would have killed him knowing that his best friend was ogling at his little sister.

”Don’t you dare!” Your yelling draws the attention of the kids and counsellors equally that’s how loud you are as your best friend approaches your form sitting under the umbrella trying to cool yourself down since today’s temperate is insanely (and unreasonably) hot. ”When we get home I’ll draw all your action figures a moustache using permanent markers. I’m not joking stop right there!”

Your horrific expression is validated since Jungkook has this shit-eating grin on his face when he’s about to do something you’ll most definitely not like, knowing him from your early stage of childhood when he was just a lanky anime fanatic and you were flat like a wooden board with huge pimples you’re an expert at distinguishing his different expressions and actions.

”You’re cute to think that will stop me.” Jungkook chuckles grabbing you by the waist as he drapes you over his shoulder effortlessly walking with you to the edge of the lake despite your efforts to break free from his grip, your friend jumps into the water with you still firmly clinging onto his body. The kids around you laugh at your friendly banter as you rise from the water like a lake monster and you duck Jungkook’s head underwater to make him pay for your ruined clothes and makeup.

Coming to help you, Jimin manoeuvres his boat next to you and stretches his hand out followed by a big grin to drag you out of the lake but it appears to be more difficult as you two almost flip over but you manage to unceremonially flop down next to him dragging your fingers through your hair to get the hairs out of your face.

”You really want war, Jeon. Just you wait but don’t blame me if I shave your hair off while you’re sleeping.” Coughing between your threatening words Jimin starts patting your back, rubbing your spine to help you feel better.

Jimin oars closer to the dock and you land your feet on the ground again without any more incidents occurring while Jungkook swims all the way, making comments about your appearance making the campers giggle alongside with him as your face gets warmer, once both of you are secure on land Jungkook hugs you close despite your distaste, your clothes cling to your body uncomfortably and droplets from his hair land on your cheek as he moulds your bodies together.

”Let me go, I’m not talking to you.” You try to push him away but instead of letting you go he scoops you up from the ground and spins you around, begging for your forgiveness but you don’t give in so easily.

Yoongi observes the scenes before him with a sour expression, he doesn’t even realise how he glares at Jungkook holding you that close to him while both of you are dripping of lake water, your boobs are entirely pushed against his chest as your best friend giggles midst of you struggling to break free.

Next to him Hoseok sits relaxed in his chair sipping his cold drink, shaking his head in faux amusement happy to see you have a good time here, your brother is normally very protective of you when it comes to guys but with Jungkook he knows that you guys are just best friends it’s hard to see you two otherwise when he witnessed your first period crying onto Jungkook’s shoulder that you’re going to bleed out and your poor friend almost dragged you to the hospital because he thought you were being real but soon learned that you overdramatise things when it’s that time of the month.

He often finds you in a weird position while you watch tv with Jungkook’s head on your tummy because the pressure and warmth of his head make the pain more bearable cuddling under blankets because you get needy when you’re on your period, your brother knows all of this because when your best friend is unavailable he has to fill the space and lay his head on your stomach until the feeling goes away.

He had his doubts in the early stage of your budding friendship when you first started to hang out with each other because things can get weird easily between friends if they are not the same gender but Jungkook proved to Hoseok multiple times that he supports you and would walk through fire for you. Nothing happened between you two in romantic aspects, there was no shift, even though someone who doesn’t see you daily interacting with him would assume something is going on.

”I’m going to change.” You announce to no one in particular, the way your shirt clings to your curves as you’re surrounded by male counsellors you don’t know adds extra pressure and their eyes on you make you uncomfortably fidget in place, your make up is probably smudged on your face giving you a panda effect.

”Wear this your bra is showing.” Jungkook gives you his wet shirt but the black material conceals your body to look decent enough and you thank him he could easily sense your distress and he feels a little bad that he pulled that trick on you. He had to coax you into wearing that bikini at the beach last year buttering you up with compliments so the two of you could finally get going, he knows better than anyone that you’re shy and insecure about your body if someone you don’t know sees you, you don’t hate your body but it makes you feel anxious if some stranger looks at you like you’re his meal for the evening and he totally gets it.

He glares at every single one of them who looks at you inappropriately alongside your brother who shares the same sentiment as him. You deserve to be treated right, that’s why he was super angry once you told him about your first time, that guy just stuck it in without making you cum.

Hoseok doesn’t know, however, you only told Jungkook about your unpleasant experience when you were tipsy, you had to tell him at a house party while playing truth or dare, you had to share something he didn’t know and considering he’s your best friend not much was there to confess. You hoped that he was drunk enough to forget about it the next day but he surprised you with ice cream and you talked it out with him, he can be immature sometimes though when the situation needs him to be serious he’s there for you. He never once made fun of you for something you felt insecure or not confident about.

Areum takes in your dishevelled look as soon as you step through the entrance of your current accommodation, opting for a quick shower to wash the dirty lake water off your skin you tell her what happened vaguely before disappearing behind the bathroom door and she snickers silently seeing your grumpy face.

Jungkook marches to the seat next to Hoseok the playful glint is still there as he rakes his fingers through his hair shaking the droplets out of his locks like a dog and the way female colleagues eye him didn’t go unnoticed by either Yoongi or Hoseok for that matter. Your best friend is not as dense as you think he is because for a while now he connected the dots why you seem to avoid Yoongi at all cost.

It shocked him at first but now observing your interactions closely he calls himself a fool that he didn’t realise it sooner. Your best friend knows about the ’you can’t woo my baby sister’ rule because it’s applied to him as well, Hoseok cornered him one day after you left to bring up snacks for a movie night and told him awfully descriptive outcomes what will happen to him if he tries anything on you all the while he pushed him against your lavender walls, that day he learned that smiley Hoseok can be scary sometimes.

It’s been years and his overprotectiveness lessened because you dated guys here and there and Hoseok was always supportive of you and your soon-to-be boyfriends, but you didn’t go to second dates with any of them.

He found it strange at first but after he found out about your little crush on your brother’s best friend some things clicked and your behaviour wasn’t soo odd anymore, Jungkook didn’t read too much into it at first because he thought it’s going to be a fleeting flame but it’s been years that you harbour feelings for the older man.

Yoongi was a harder nut to crack because he’s better at masking his feelings than you but he can see how his eyes linger on you when he thinks no one’s looking, his slip-ups are subtle ones and it would go over his head if he wouldn’t be so tuned in searching for his reactions.

His gut feeling tells him Yoongi feels the same way you do (his face might not be as expressive but his eyes are sparkling every time he finds you in the crowd) although he can’t be one hundred percent sure, the benefit of the doubt that makes him keep question every move and look he throws your way his confusing actions indicates that even Yoongi doesn’t know how he truly feels about you so Jungkook didn’t bring up the subject because he’s not sure how to approach this without making this more complicated.

He doesn’t want to give you hope when he can’t guarantee his intuition is right so he choose to silently observe and let things unfold naturally but it gets harder with time to ignore how you two are dancing around each other like idiots. Well, at least before now you straight out refuse to be in the same room as him.

At this point, he’s convinced that neither of you is going to make a move to let the other know about your romantic feelings, he wanted to respect the fact that you didn’t want him to know about your feelings towards your brother’s best friend but enough is enough and he’s tired of seeing you avoid the matter for another year like this.

His plan so far doesn’t seem to work, he convinced Hoseok to sign you up for the camp against your will but things don’t go forward as you keep avoiding the problem so he needs to give both of you a little push from the sidelines to end this.

He doesn’t like the idea of you hurting if he’s being wrong about this but the rejection would be better than living in denial, not knowing if he reciprocates your feelings, he hates seeing you cry but he’ll be there to kick ass and support you. Jungkook makes up his mind and calls Hoseok’s name to grab his attention.

”What do you think about one of your friends dating Y/N?”

Hoseok’s brow raises in question and Yoongi’s body stiffens at the mention trying to seem unaffected but Jungkook detects the slight change in his demeanour. ”Why do you ask? You’re not in love with my sister, are you Jeon?” He can’t stop laughing as he hears Hoseok accusing him immediately, he gets comfortable in his seat before answering. Waiting a little before responding to get a dramatic effect, he spends too much time with you as he realises he picked up some of your theatrical approaches.

”God, no. She’s my best friend I know too much about her to think like that.” His laughing subdues into small chuckles, he saw you at your worst and best moments, seen you naked by accident. You’re beautiful and funny but he doesn’t see you as a woman. Yoongi’s eyebrow twitches at the mention of ’knowing too much’ but Jungkook’s next words are the final blow for him to grip the armrest.

”I heard Taehyung is gonna ask her out and I wanted to know what you think about it.” Hoseok schools his features quickly after that, he didn’t know Taehyung liked you like that but he has no right to control your life or tell you who you can consider as a potential love interest. You can like whoever you want, he tried to show you his support when you introduced some of your dates to him and he’s going to keep his promise even when it comes to his friends.

You were always close but after he began to tell you who you can or can’t see your relationship became distant until he realised his mistakes, you forgave him easily because you love your brother a lot and he loves you just as much so after a heartfelt conversation between the two of you he promised not to do that to you ever again.

You’re aware he did this to protect you because you’re his precious little sister and big brothers could get unreasonably overprotective so after you almost drifted apart and even though you two talked it out. The fact that because of a boy you argued with Hoseok you decided you’ll never act on your feelings for Yoongi for the sake of your relationship. Jungkook doesn’t know that’s the main reason you keep avoiding Yoongi but he couldn’t have known because you two never touched upon the subject.

”It’s her decision.” Hoseok shrugs finally and Jungkook nods with a smile eyeing Yoongi who seem to absorb the answer he didn’t think he would get.

You’re aware of your feelings so it’s time for Yoongi to reflect on his thoughts and figure out what he wants.

Jungkook thinks that his plan might just work if he keeps up the good work. You can thank him later.

Taehyung is an unsuspecting victim caught up in Jungkook’s spider web to get you guys together. He likes every kind of art-related stuff and Jungkook showed him some of the origamis you folded for him as he has a few of the smaller ones stuffed inside his wallet under your graduation photo and of course when Taehyung asked you to teach him you agreed with the biggest smile on your face.

You took it as a great opportunity to get to know him better because you’re the least close to him in the group, not because you don’t think he’s a nice guy but before this there were not many occasions to bond with him.

He has the talent for it you realise this soon and you two spend hours inside the art room together folding new pieces after you’re free, he even suggests as a beginner what’s easier to make so the kids can be encouraged rather than making them do hard ones and be disappointed by the end result.

He visits you often and brings you tea to chat about art at first but gradually you get to know more about each other’s personal lives all the while you make origamis together. You skip lunch sometimes when you get too caught up experimenting with new shapes and Jungkook notices the displeased expression on Yoongi’s face every time someone asks about you and Taehyung’s whereabouts just to hear you two are yet again holed up inside the art room laughing and chatting.

He got even grumpier than normal and lashes out without any reason, the others dismiss his behaviour as he probably had a bad day but his best friend knows something is up with him, it’s not like he lashes out on the children because he smiles at them like he used to but his quick mood changes are getting on everyone’s nerves lately. Hoseok knows that something bothers him but every time he asks about it he says it’s nothing.

Jungkook sits beside Hoseok as he goes on and on about he has no idea what’s gotten into Yoongi lately and he’s close to rolling his eyes at him, no wonder you two are siblings he thinks. Both of you are idiots.

Yoongi didn’t show up for breakfast and you’re nowhere to find as well, he knows you’re not with Taehyung because he sits at the table behind him with Jimin and Seokjin telling each other funny stories about the kids. He shows some of the origami pieces he folded and Jimin compliments him while Seokjin tries to stuck one inside his pocket so a friendly banter breaks out at their table.

”.. and he doesn’t even tell me what’s the problem. Hey, Jungkook are you listening to me at all?” Hoseok waves his hand in front of Jungkook’s face who munches on the garnish almost finished with eating while your brother’s plate is full of food because as soon as Jungkook joined him at the table, since he couldn’t find you in the crowd, started complaining about how difficult Yoongi is being as of late and it’s too early to deal with this bullshit.

”Yoongi is upset because Y/N hangs out with Taehyung too much. If you look at the signs you would have seen that he obviously likes your sister but because of that stupid rule you made neither of them is acting upon their feelings for each other.” The outburst momentarily shuts up Hoseok, his mouth hangs open like a fish out of water blinking rapidly and it’s noticeable how the wheels are turning inside his head as he processes the information.

”Yoongi likes my sister?!” The three surrounding tables turn after hearing Hoseok’s signature banshee yell and Jungkook audibly sighs at the shocked expression he’s sporting like he suddenly grew four heads and three legs. He just might because the food is weird sometimes.

You tell Areum you have to pick something up from the art room and you’ll join her a bit later to eat breakfast hiding your hands in your hoodie’s pocket as mornings tend to be on the colder side, she gives you a thumbs up as she walks towards the dining room and you wait until she gets out of sight to turn on your heel.

You visit the art room first but what you’re searching for is not there and you head back to your cabin to see if you brought it back by accident without you realising it.

You made that origami star Taehyung whined to you about. He wanted to make one but it just can’t seem to look like it should be as he showed you his attempts. It took you a few tries to succeed as well since folding the edges were quite tricky to figure out.

On your way to the dining room, you bump into someone and the star you made end up on the ground slipping out of your grip. Raising your head instantly to apologise to the person, you were not ready to face Min Yoongi out of all people, he picks up the origami and hands it back dusting it off before giving it to you.

”Thanks.”

”Uh, everything’s alright? You seem to be in a bad mood.” You’re hesitant to address the elephant in the room, you didn’t really witness his mood swings as others because you spent most of your time in the art room but seeing him now with dark circles under his eyes a grim expression on his handsome face, it speaks volumes of how true it is, and you would hate to get on his bad side because you ask a question everyone probably asked before you.

”I’m fine.” Yoongi tilts his head towards the sky and sighs, you wait for him to say something else but that’s all he does before he walks past you.

You grimace at the lack of response, sure, things were awkward nowadays but he never straight out ignored you like that, he didn’t even look at you while he answered and left just like that.

When you join Jungkook and your brother for breakfast they have a weird aura around them and you’re itching to interrupt their silent talk as they eye each other like you’re not sitting right next to both of them.

What is wrong with anyone today, huh?

”Okay we need to do something, things can’t continue like this.” Jungkook places his hands on each side of his hips as he captures everyone's attention when he climbs on top of one of the tables like he’s about to give a grand speech about something world-rocking kind of important matters.

”I agree. I can’t even say something to Yoongi that doesn’t end with him taking my head off.” Jimin and Taehyung agree immediately since they had to deal with his temper for the most part.

”And what do you suggest we do?” Hoseok puts his weight onto the broom as he speaks, after Jungkook told him that his best friend is in love with his sister everything made sense in a way.

Why he asked about you a lot like how’s school or how’ life going for you, made sure to get something for your birthday every year, he thought that he’s nice to you because you’re his little sister, after all, he told him to treat you right. He couldn’t be more wrong about it, however. They are supposed to be best friends and Hoseok didn’t even know he liked you like that.

”I think you should talk to her Hobi. She doesn’t act on her feelings because she thinks you wouldn’t like them together, maybe if you tell her it’s ok to date each other they will end our suffering. I don’t think I can manage this moody Yoongi for another day he looked like he’s about to murder me in my sleep.” Because of Jungkook’s scheme, Yoongi went extra hard on Taehyung and the poor soul didn’t have a clue why he’s suddenly replaced as Yoongi’s personal punching bag.

Hoseok makes sure to visit your cabin after they are done cleaning and it would be an understatement to say he feels a little nervous. It’s weird that he’s here to tell you to go after his best friend as it is.  

He already had a talk with Yoong in their cabin before he came here and his friend seemed terrified when Hoseok told him he knows that he’s in love with his sister.

All the colour drained from his face and he actually took pity on him that it feels him with so much dread that his best friend knows he likes a girl, even if it’s his sister he’s happy that he found someone he likes.

Hoseok tells him that nothing is going on between you and Taehyung so he should stop torturing him, Jungkook just tried to make him jealous by saying that, it felt nice for both of them to talk openly about everything.

Yoongi told him about the party when he almost kissed her or when they would stay up all night talking to each other about everything and nothing, he shares his genuine feelings and admits that for a while he didn’t know what he felt for her but he wants to be with her.

You had similar reactions like his friend, at first you tried to deny the fact but later when Hoseok reveals everything and speak about Jungkook’s plan, you gave up to lie and instead tell him you liked him for three years and you tried to move on but you couldn’t that’s why none of your previous relationships seemed to work out.

Your brother feels stupid for not seeing the signs, maybe Jungkook was right and he’s really an idiot.

It’s awkward knowing that he feels the same way about you you’re not gonna lie, it feels like a dream but at the same time, you’re afraid one day you’ll wake up and realise all of this was just a fragment of your imagination.

Hoseok’s support was a pleasant surprise and even though you want to strangle your best friend with your bare hands for meddling with your business and literally shouting out to the world you love Min Yoongi to the moon and back moments ago to have everyone witness your face flame up you decide against all expectations and you give him a bone-crushing hug because without him all of this wouldn’t have happened. All that matters is that he likes you back.

”How did you know?” You curiously ask and Jungkook feigns he’s thinking about the answer whilst pinching your cheek, that smirk he wears when he’s about to say something stupid makes you reconsider. You shouldn’t have asked.

”I mean I discovered it recently so you were quite good at hiding it because normally I always sniff out your secrets right off the bat but as soon as I focused on your reactions it was easy to tell.” He points at Yoongi standing a few feet away next to Hoseok and he suddenly burst out laughing.

”I saw you running into a fucking tree when you saw Yoongi wet because Hoseok threw him into the lake.” You clasp your hand over his runny mouth before he can embarrass you further, you were not ready to see Yoongi blush so cutely at the comment while Hoseok doubled over because he laughed so hard seeing your face after Jungkook said that.

You denied it in a high pitched squeal. ”That fucking tree wasn’t there that’s why!” Everyone seemed to find your excuse hilarious as they laughed continuously at your attempts of saving your last piece of dignity but even Yoongi chuckled couldn’t contain his biggest smile to take over his features as he thinks you look so cute when you’re embarrassed, and you like him back.

”Can we see a kiss at least if we had to put up with grumpy Yoongi for an entire week, I really started to fear for my life, you know?” Jimin chimed in, it was endearing to see Yoongi turn bashful in front of you.

”Now that it was brought up Jeon Jungkook I can’t believe you used me like that! I had no idea why you suggested that I try to learn making origamis from Y/N. Our friendship is over!” Taehyung points at your best friend accusingly and he only scratches the back of his neck.

”I did it for a good cause…wait Tae where are you going? Look I’m sorry…” Jungkook chases after the former boy trying to hug him from behind but Taehyung doesn’t reciprocate it and your friend starts whining at that telling him that he’s so sorry while Jimin and the others unoccupied at the moment resumes their staring at the both of you to move and kiss finally.

Even Namjoon and Seokjin who were silent until now joins in and chants alongside the others to ”kiss kiss kiss kissss”

You let out a shy chuckle taking the first steps in his direction and his eyes go wide in surprise when your shoe touch. Kissing his cheek instead you tiptoe to reach his height so you can easily circle your hands around his neck and pull him down to hug you, it reminds you of the hug you shared with him before the whole trip to the summer camp started but this time it felt different.

His embrace was warm and inviting as he held you by your waist his chest vibrated against you as he laughed when your friends demanded a real kiss.

Yoongi found himself sitting beside you inside the art room as you explained how the kids can make bunny-shaped origami out of the grey coloured papers in front of them and his hand immediately found yours under the table to intertwine your fingers together once you sat down next to him.

You try to suppress a smile as you watch over the kids ensuring that they don’t cut themselves with the scissors but your body betrays you as you subconsciously lean into his frame he smells like vanilla extract and chocolate. He showed the kids how to make muffins in today’s lesson, it turned out good because Yoongi measured the ingredients while the kids only mixed and did simple tasks such as portioning out the dough or decorating the top of the treats.

Someone had two or three muffins left on their table as they worked, focused on their folding technique occasionally they stole bites making you and Yoongi giggling under your noses when you would catch chipmunk cheeks.

Yoongi helped you clean up after the lesson throwing out leftover papers and sweeping the floor before you joined the others for lunch.

Things changed in the group’s dynamics after you started dating Yoongi but overall they were happy to see both of you happy.

Even though Jungkook likes to make jokes about how you two are basically joined at the hip for days and soon after starts to complain about how you spend less time with him now that you have a boyfriend, he’s clearly happy for you. It’s a new situation for everyone and Hoseok has a hard time picturing you with his best friend but seeing you so happy with him he supports your relationship wholeheartedly.

After you’re done with the activities for the day you and Yoongi retreat into his cabin as everyone else stays at the campfire. They see the two of you slip away hand in hand, howbeit no one dares to comment on it but you see Jungkook having an inner battle to stop himself from yelling out ’use protection’ luckily Taehyung stuffs his mouth with a handful of chio chips before that could happen.

Your boyfriend pulls you closer by tugging on your intertwined hands caging you between his arms and the door, kissing the corner of your mouth he moves downwards to kiss over your jawline and neck, smiles into the juncture of your neck when you chase after his lips as he pecks your cupid’s bow next, impatient to feel his lips against yours you pull at a fistful of his hair guiding his mouth to capture his lip between your teeth. Yoongi grunts into the kiss tasting your sweet mouth never cease his hunger for you, only leaves him wanting more and more.

”I can’t believe you’re mine.” He seals his words over your feverish skin with in between kisses, marking up your neck, nibbling and kissing every inch until your breath becomes laboured under his sweet attacks.

You weave your fingers into his hair whilst a soft mewl leaves your parted lips as his knee parts your legs to brush against your centre.

He presses his thighs further into your throbbing pussy swallowing the noises you make getting lost in your body heat. He wants to take his time with you licking every corner and dip until you shake and pant his name.

”Wait. What about my brother?” You jump a little when you feel his hand on your ribs travelling up until he cups your breast over the shirt you’re wearing. Kneading your flesh over the fabric your body relaxes into his touch it’s enough to leave you breathless seeing his expression so earnest to please you, pupils dilated as he looks at you under his hooded lids it’s hard to control his urges when you look good enough to eat.

”He stays over at Namjoon’s don’t worry about him.” Yoongi catches your earlobe with his mouth biting down on your shell playfully, the sensation makes you heave a gasp, the words barely registering in your brain.

”Off. I want this off.” Feeling especially bold today you sneak your hands under his shirt caressing his sides with your fingertips, pecking his collarbone that peaks through the collar of his clothing. A whine resonates within your throat when your boyfriend steps back to pull his shirt over his head revealing his stomach and shoulders for your hungry eyes to feast upon disliking the cold air that fills the space once his body is not there to keep you warm, you pull him close diving in to connect your lips in a heated kiss tongue licking into his mouth.

His hands wander under your clothes this time mapping out your smooth skin following the lines of your sides to find the opening on your bra, once he gets the clasp open he traces your spine with his index finger grabbing your ass with both hands as his wandering hands reach south. Your moan gets lost inside his busy mouth that explores your hot cavern at the same time his hands cup you over the fabric of your leggings. It doesn’t give your throbbing pussy justice when he decides to rub your clit and drag his fingers over the dampening material.

”Let’s move things to the bedroom shall we?” The innocent peck he places onto your cheek makes your heart flutter, excitement and love mix inside your veins sweetening your blood as your pulse quickens under his adoring gaze. You nod kissing him again before you let him guide you to his door, not separating from your sensually moving lips as he blindly closes it behind your entangled forms.

He removes your pants and shirt in one go, letting the garments form a pile on the floor promising your sweet release with each removed clothing until the only remaining barrier that keeps your naked glory from his piercing gaze is slipped down your shaved legs, he feels how soaked the material of your cotton underwear had become after so little foreplay and he finds himself insanely turned on by the discovery.

Yoongi eagerly encloses his mouth over your erect bud eliciting airy moans when he alternates between sucks and licks on your sensitive mound paying equal attention to both sides as he massages the neglected one with firm hands whilst he blows air to the saliva coated nipples and watch your expression morph into torturous pleasure but he’s not satisfied with your shy suppressed noises.

Your slick oozes out of your empty opening running down your thighs and stain the bedsheet your clit aches to be touched and your hole clenches around nothing as your lover keeps his head between your boobs kissing and licking your skin there until your nipples get too sensitive to his touch, red and swollen when he rolls it between his fingers. His leg parts your thighs keeping them wide open so you can’t get any stimulation until he decides to move lower.

Seeing how you shake under his body parted lips keep asking him to give you more, he doesn’t have the heart to deny you any longer as he starts to rub your thighs keeping your legs open for him to bury his face between your beautiful cunt swollen and needy for his touch he lets his tongue dip between your folds tasting you first before gently sucking on your clit.

He hears you call his name perfectly in tune with his tongue’s strokes as he intends to eat you up. Your essence covers his chin as he licks your hole clean lapping up everything your precious body can produce for him dipping inside the tip of his tongue your muscles tense up ready to get filled with something bigger and Yoongi’s cock twitches inside the confine of his underwear.

He doesn’t need to remove his undergarments to know his tip is red and slick with his precum desperate to fill your empty hole up but before that, he coats two of his fingers in your wetness and pushes them inside parting your walls gently to ease you into the feeling preparing you to take his cock.

Your hips buck into his hand as he curls his long fingers inside your velvety walls feeling your muscles constrict around his digits he moans with his head thrown back as he imagines his dick getting the same treatment later, your musky scent and visual laying beneath him taking what he gives you drives him crazy with need.

Perking up at the sound you open your eyes blinking to get the blurriness fade dreamy half-lidded eyes watch as his fingers fill you up and you almost close them again because of the pure ecstasy his expert hands give to your overwhelmed body.

You see the painful tent that formed inside his briefs before the numbing pleasure could consume you yet again and there’s a wet spot in the middle that lets you know he gets off on seeing you enjoy yourself. His hips unknowingly to him ruts against the sheets to get some kind of friction realising that he focused solely on your pleasure and put it aside to chase his, he’s so different from the partners you previously slept with and the sudden urge to please him overtakes your selfish side to just receive and receive.

You palm him over the wet spot following the outline of his hard dick to give him some well-deserved relief and he immediately grinds into your palm letting out breathy groans and low moans, you don’t mind at all when he gets lost in your touch instead and momentarily forgets about his goal to get you prepped nicely for his cock. The fingers he has inside you stills and your head clear out a little, you’re able to focus on his face learning what he likes as you study his reactions to your movements, you know his moans will probably become your favourite sounds.

You take advantage of his current state to switch positions, letting his fingers slip out of you as you get rid of his underwear grabbing his thighs to lower yourself while he sits down at the edge of the bed.

Taking his tip into your mouth to taste his precum you feel Yoongi’s nails digging into your scalp as you swallow around him trying to get him into your mouth as much as your poor jaw can handle. Holding the base of his cock to guide him back into your wet cavern you set a slow pace, stroking what you can’t fit.

”You look so good sucking my dick baby.” You learned that he tends to be on the quiet side even in the bedroom, his reactions however are good indicators of how you’re able to affect him with every swirl of your tongue. Letting him use the hand tangled in your hair to set the rhythm of your movements your vision blurs as tears swell in your eyes due to the quickened pace and force he starts to fuck your mouth but he pulls out before he could get too close to cumming.

”I need to have you know. Lie down on the bed with your legs spread wide for me.” You follow his instructions showing him your drenched swollen pussy as he climbs on the bed after you, admiring the way he ruined your cunt before he reaches for a condom retrieving the item from inside his drawer.

He touches himself in front of you watching you squirm under his gaze as you wait for him to roll the condom down his length, your body aches to finally be filled with something bigger.

”Yoongi. Fill me up.” You part your pussy lips for him revealing your hole clenching around nothing, beckoning him to fill you up Yoongi looks at the sinful image in front of him saving this memory of you for later when he’s alone with his hands but today he plans to have your cunt wrapped around his cock rather than his fingers.

Your drenched walls suck him in as he enters you, hips lowering in slow motion to bury his entire length inside, nice and steady, gripping his shoulders for support you moan into the sloppy kiss feeling so full.

You hear his guttural moan loud and clear just as his breath hits the shell of your ear and your walls squeeze around him, wet squelching sounds ring beside your mixed love language thriving off the sounds he grunts directly into your ear encouraging you to meet his movements in the middle.

It feels like you stand in front of the gates of heaven when Yoongi increases his pace thrusting in and out, not being able to stop as he feels his balls tighten with the need to cum he parts your legs even more as he watches his dick emerge from the pussy he owns now coated in your juices taking his hard length and moan out every time his tip curves to touch your sweet spot with each delivered stroke.

You cum first around his dick, he helps you ride out your pleasure only pulling out when you whine from oversensitivity and he rolls the condom off to finish as well, watching your spent pussy glistening with your cum he uses the sight in front of him to get off, he collects your slick to lubricate his shaft as he starts to jerk himself off faster.

Once your breathing evens out and you see the concentration on Yoongi’s face while he lucidly moves his hands up and down his throbbing cock with the desperate need to cum you touch his hips drawing soothing circles onto his sweaty skin taking him back into your mouth to help him reach his high.

He comes in your mouth with a soft cry throwing his head back as you keep sucking him licking his sensitive tip until he pulls your head off with a shaky hand stroking your cheeks with his thumb.

”So friends and family, let me introduce you to my boyfriend Yoongi. You might have already met him before.” You joke in front of your relatives of all ages and you see in the corner of your eyes how Hoseok rolls his eyes.

© helenazbmrskai lll Please do not copy, reblog and like instead!

[red-writes]

Career oriented 

Escort! Bakugou x Reader

Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot      of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first. 

cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)

a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.

The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you. 

While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.

 A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.

“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg. 

“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.

“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin. 

“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore. 

Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club” 

Momo giggles, “You're still with him?” 

His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm. 

“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up

“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”

You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.

“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right? 

Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”

“Certainly ma'am” 

+

You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort. 

You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy. 

His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.

Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try. 

+

You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified. 

Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.

Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest. 

“S-So..What- um..-”

“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous. 

“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally. 

He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be” 

You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.

“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.

“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date. 

“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin. 

You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead. 

“Okay, I have an idea” 

You cock your head to the side curiously.

“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again. 

“What do you say?”

“Alright!” 

+

The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work. 

Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.

“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.

“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.

“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake. 

“No, just realized somethin’” 

The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?” 

He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face. 

“You look pretty when you're having fun” 

A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other. 

“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed. 

+

Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,

‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged. 

After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?

Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax. 

You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was. 

The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road. 

You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face. 

+

Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.

You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming. 

“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.

“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.

“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together. 

“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile

“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.

“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer. 

When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.

“Check, please”

+

Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and  laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were.  He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside. 

The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you. 

His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.

“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move. 

“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”

With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you. 

When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head. 

“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips. 

“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs

“You asked for this”

You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls  greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time. 

You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.

“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy. 

He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest. 

He whistles, “Nice place”

“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.

“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.

“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. 

“That’s my hard working girl” 

you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment. 

“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.

“Yes, if you want” 

“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Goodnight love” 

“Night Kats..”

[aimfor-theheart]

COIN TOSS– PART III

(18+ MINORS DNI)

PART I → PART II

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader, a little Shouta Aizawa x Reader

SUMMARY: As you fall asleep, you wonder faintly, almost sadly, if you’re the first thing he’s fully touched without losing in a long time.

You are Eraserhead’s troubled protege with a Quirk that cancels out others the moment they touch you. Tomura Shigaraki takes great interest in you.

(Enemies to lovers, a lot of angst, some hurt/comfort)

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, age gap/power struggle, violence, gore, Tomura’s trauma specifically, (in later chapters) murder, smut, some blurred lines, rough sex, a smidge of a spit kink, a smidge of somnophilia (let me know if I’ve missed anything!)

If you are under the age of 18, you should not be reading or interacting with this!

↳ A playlist I made for this fic, if you're interested!

A/N: here is your final part to this series! again, thank you @randomrosewrites for beta-ing this!! and thank you guys so so much for your support and comments, they mean so so much to me!! i had a lot of trouble with this last part, there was a lot of scenes i cut out and alternative endings before i settled on what is there now and i'm not even fully happy with it still lol. i have a lot of Thoughts about this, so feel free to reach out if you want to know more or just chat!! i hope you guys enjoy this!!

Read on Ao3

***

Shouta apologizes to you soon after. You sheepishly get out your own apology, even though you’d planned on holding a grudge a little while longer.

Still, Shouta confides that he also had his doubts and worries as a young hero and that he shouldn’t have dismissed yours. He talks in a soft, low voice for you, sits beside you on the edge of the couch.

You hate it because it’s easier to be at odds with Shouta lately, easier for your conscience. He put distance between the two of you, but you forced it apart further– if only to keep him in the dark. Maybe if only to spare yourself all the lying, all the pretending you’d have to do.

He says, “You know, you can always come to me. Whenever you need me.”

You have to swallow hard around the lump in your throat.

“I’ll always be here for you, despite everything.” he promises gently, trying to catch your eyes. Your gaze ducks away, out of his line of site.

Still, you hug him, tuck your face into his shoulder so he can’t see the guilt written across your face. Your secrets will constrict around you if you’re not careful. You know Truth is tricky and likes to reveal itself with Time’s help.

Once more, you become acutely aware of the clock ticking away on your relationship with Tomura.

But this time, you also realize how much trouble you could get in. You realize that you’re endangering Shouta now, too. You swallow hard, try to keep all of that down inside of you, but you feel nauseous suddenly. Bloated with guilt.

You wonder if you would’ve confessed to him then, if you would’ve spilled your guts the way you’d wanted to, if it would’ve saved you the heartache of it all.

Instead, you’d just clung to him, little fingers twisting in the back of his shirt, praying that you’d never need to make good on his promise. Praying you’d never need to test how far he’d go for you.

(It’s far– you’ll realize, further than it ever should’ve been. And you’re all the worse for it.)

***

Tomura thinks one of the troubles with heroes is their willingness to sacrifice anything for their greater good. He doesn’t think there’s anything noble in it, there’s nothing glorious or good in leaving their friend behind because they think it will save more. Nothing honorable in facing down a threat you know you can’t win against alone. What good is their world if they’re willing to sacrifice all that’s good to them in the process?

Everytime he watches you patrol, go up against other villains, maybe yakuza members, throw yourself in harm’s way needlessly, he realizes the Hero Commission uses heroes’ bodies as collateral damage. You are nothing to them. Even to other heroes; your sacrifice is expected. He knows it isn’t wanted, per se, but it isn’t surprising.

It doesn’t help that you have a streak of recklessness in you. You are quick to danger, just as quick to flash teeth and stand your ground, to fight mercilessly.

You struggle against large, powerhouse types. He watches you nearly get crushed or strangled some nights. Your Quirk doesn’t do much for you when your opponent has strength and weight to defeat you with a singular blow.

Your mentor is often pulling you out of danger with his capture weapon, yanking you away from a massive swinging arm or a curled fist about to smash you into the ground. But if it came down to you or the greater good, he knows what your mentor and your heroes would pick.

He thinks it’s strangely unfair, for you to give them your loyalty over him. He’s more loyal to you, isn’t he? There is very, very little he wouldn’t destroy for you. They would sooner let you be destroyed for the sake of their world.

Destroying the hero society that is so careless with you now feels, in part, like his gift to you. Freedom from the world that only cared about you when they realized you could be useful–

There is a night you become not just useful to your heroes but imperative.

It starts with your sacrifice, just as you were trained to do. You shove a civilian out of the way of a villain’s Quirk– it’s something with tusks and teeth that jut out from his body, sharp and ready to gut you.

Your mentor is busy with this villain’s accomplice.

Tomura watches when he shouldn’t. He was supposed to meet with Kurogiri, but he knows you patrol in this area and when there’d been commotion, he couldn’t help but watch from the shadows.

He watches one of those tusks jut towards you, your hand reaching out in hopes of disengaging the Quirk. But it’s a physical Quirk, not something like Dabi’s fire or his disintegration. And he doesn’t know if this Quirk disengages with it’s user or if it’s just his body.

Tomura feels his heart drop, the trapdoor given way to all icy fear as he watches one of those tusks pierce into your stomach.

Tomura stops breathing.

You grab hold of it, a scream getting caught behind your clenched teeth. Your fingers are tight, near frantic as you press into them– hope with everything in you, in him, that his Quirk disengages with yours.

Your broken off scream is wretched from your struggling body when another tusk rushes to crash into your shoulder.

You’re the only thing between the civilians behind you and this villain.

Your other hand reaches for the tusk at your shoulder, digging fingers and nails into it desperately.

Your eyes are bright and feverish with the hot pink of your Quirk.

Tomura stutters towards you, before the villain let’s out a pained groan. Your teeth are bared, blood bubbling up in your mouth, but you’re still standing, vicious and undeterred.

The tusks begin to crack where you grip them, splintering apart–

A sudden fission of light through those crevices, same fire pink as your eyes, arcs throughout the villain. A flare of it that makes the villain almost see-through, the lines of his bones burned by light, an x-ray flash, as if you’d struck him with lightning for a moment.

Eraserhead shouts for you.

When the flare dies, there is a scream of pain and it’s not yours.

The tusks shatter, splinter apart into gleaming bone that flies through the air.

You’re left standing, blood oozing from your stomach, your shoulder, but still standing, your eyes crackling and too bright.

The villain, tuskless, crumples at your feet, smoking. A normal, Quirkless looking man.

Did you–?

“What happened?” he hears the distant voice of your mentor, laced with worry, whose already reaching to staunch blood, blood that seeps so dark out of you. Tomura’s stomach rolls, twists suddenly, but you’re still standing. You’re okay– you’re okay–

“I-I don’t know.” you manage, but you sway into your mentor’s arms and Tomura has to look away, jaw clenched tight, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.

He hears, “I need an ambulance– there’s a hero and villain down–”

But he’s already turning away, his mind churning, trying to keep the nauseousness from overcoming him. He feels suddenly furious, that it can’t be him at your side, that he has to watch, pushed to the outskirts. His fingers rush to scratch at his neck, his throat, desperate for relief from the pressure that has built in his chest.

He will try to call you– later, much later– the only time you’ll answer him. He is certain you will be okay with your healers and–

He thinks of the flare of light, the breaking of those tusks, the sudden heap of that man on the ground. If Tomura is correct about what you’d done, about what your Quirk actually is, the heroes won’t let you die now.

No, now you’re imperative. Now you’re trapped.

And the destruction of hero society will be his gift to you, an end to all the strings in place, the hands holding you both back.

***

“You destroyed his Quirk.”

“W-what?” you manage to get out, wobbly. You’re bandaged up, your torso and shoulder wrapped in fresh gauze after Recovery Girl healed the worst of your wounds. You’d been sleeping, hooked up to an IV to aid you in recovering. “That’s not possible, my Quirk only cancels–”

The doctor that has entered to give you this news shakes his head, “No, we’ve done scans, tests, the works on this guy. His Quirk is gone from his DNA. No trace of it.”

Shouta, who's sitting beside your hospital bed, speaks up, “Is it possible that it will eventually return?”

“I suppose, but we think it’s unlikely. It’s gone from him. There’s nothing left. She destroyed it cleanly. It’s like it was never there at all.” The doctor answers.

“I don’t understand–” you manage to get out, your head beginning to swim, giving a painful throb at your temples.

“It seems your Quirk isn’t so simple as cancelling out another’s. It’s likely that subduing other’s Quirks was just the surface of yours.”

“Is the man okay otherwise?” Shouta asks now, fidgeting in his seat when he senses your sudden distress. He leans towards your bed more and you have the sudden urge to latch onto him and not let go.

“Physically, yes. He’s fine.” the doctor answers, “However, mentally...he’s inconsolable at the moment. As you know, Quirks are incredibly– well, they’re a part of who we are, aren’t they?”

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat.

You think Shouta says something else, finishes speaking to the doctor for you. The moment the door clicks shut, the tears that you stubbornly had been holding back rush forward.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” you get out on just a hissed breath. “I-I didn’t know I could.”

Shouta shushes you gently, “It’s okay, this happens. Sometimes people don’t know the full extent of their Quirk.”

“I destroyed his Quirk, it’s not okay!” you respond, guilt thickening inside of you, dragging you down heavy, clogging your throat and chest. “I didn’t mean to do that– what if I do it again?”

“You were under distress,” he soothes, reaching out to brush a tear away from your cheek, “Really, you were fighting for your life.” And when he says it, something gets caught in his throat. Something hitches in yours, too.

His eyes rove over your face slowly, taking you in carefully, as if he hasn’t been by your side the entire time. As if it wasn’t him in the ambulance, or him kneeling beside your bed when Recovery Girl put you back together.

“I should’ve been there. It shouldn’t have happened.” Shouta admits, the confession filling the small space between you two.

You take him in now, too, tired and worried, his face finally displaying the fear and care he has for you. It softens out his features, turns his eyes gentle and dark.

You realize suddenly that you miss him. You miss quiet nights on his couch as he graded papers. You miss his clothes and his cats and the tenderness that blossomed in all your silent spaces to fill you both out.

You wonder if he misses you as bad as you’re realizing you miss him.

You think of him cooking for one again, eating alone, and it does something horrible to your heart– mangles it, twists it up horribly.

It’s made all the worse because you’re lying to him. And here he is, at your bedside.

“S’okay, Shouta,” you get out, reaching up to touch his cheek with a trembling hand. He leans into the touch, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment. He savors your touch in a way that he hasn’t ever allowed himself to before.

But after a moment, he shakes his head fractionally, and he murmurs “I’m supposed to protect you.”

You don’t know why, but your bottom lip wobbles. Big, fat tears well up in your eyes, burn hot and put pressure on your already foggy head. You feel like you’re unraveling, your chest all swollen and tender, too, aching horribly.

You can’t decide if it’s because you’re lying and disobeying him so badly or because no one has ever bothered to say something like that to you, let alone mean it.

And you’re betraying him, your mind hisses.

When he notices, his face falls, his thumb moving to try and brush away your tears. “Don’t cry,” he hushes, “I’m sorry, don’t cry.”

You lean into his large and warm palm at your cheek, let him cradle and coddle you.

“I-I’m sorry–” you barely manage to choke out, for reasons far beyond him.

“No,” he coos, “No, sweetheart, don’t apologize.”

You choke on a sob and he grows more worried, leans over you more, brings his other hand up to stroke at your hairline, too.

He says your name softly, trying to soothe you, “Why are you crying, huh? What are you apologizing for?”

You shake your head, more tears loosening, your small fingers twisting themselves in the shoulders of his shirt. You think you’ll drown in all this guilt, it’ll fill your lungs with pressure, choke you out slowly as you struggle and thrash.

But for now, all you get out is a warbled, slurred, “Please don’t hate me–”

Shouta moves then, shifts to sit beside you on the bed. He’s painfully careful with you as he slides strong and sturdy arms beneath you, lifts you slightly into his lap, mindful of your IV, and cradles you to him.

You bury your face into his chest and try to hold back another sob as he murmurs, “Why would I hate you? I could never hate you.”

He strokes your hair, he hushes your cries, rocking you gently. Rocking you until you can stop crying, until you’re exhausted and aching and tender.

“I’ll help you with your Quirk,” he promises gently, holding you tight to him, “We’ll be okay, huh?” he murmurs, and it just forces another cry out of you, swallowed up by his chest that he cradles you to, “We’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

It’s the we’ll in that sentence that makes you squeeze him tighter. You wonder how willing he’d be to use it if he knew where you were every other night, who you filled your time with.

If he knew who called you late that night, when you’re alone in your room, aching and sore and alone. If he knew who you answered to, your voice hushed in the inky darkness;

“Tomura,” you exhale his name through the receiver.

“I saw what happened,” he answers instead, “I saw what happened today.”

You can feel the sudden jump of your heart, your nerves wringing themselves tight. “Oh,” you respond lamely.

To your surprise, Tomura rasps, “Are you okay?”

You don’t know why, but you cradle the phone to your cheek tighter, your eyes slipping shut for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Sore and tired, but I’m okay.”

“Good,” he responds, his voice softer than it usually is, just a breath when he asks, “What happened? What’d you do to him?”

You’re silent for a long moment. You can’t decide if you should tell him or not. You think of Shouta earlier and his voice like a hearth and the tender way he holds you, you think of his we’ll be okay.

But you can hear Tomura’s soft breath on the other line. You can see Ryuji in the patch of sun that splays out against the corner of the couch in the evenings. You think of him curled tight around you, like you’re the last good thing left on earth.

“I destroyed his Quirk,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “With mine.”

“That’s new,” Tomura almost hums, but it nearly seems like he was expecting the answer.

“I didn’t mean to.”

A quiet snort from him, “What are you trying to prove to me?” he asks, “I’m not your heroes. I won’t look at you differently whether you intended to or not.”

The thought strikes like an arrow between the ribs, sharp, sudden. It stings, when you realize it’s truth. How hard have you tried to prove yourself to Shouta? How hard are you trying to prove your goodness to yourself?

“You could’ve killed him,” Tomura says, “And I wouldn’t think differently.”

You wince for some reason when he says that, “Don’t–”

“What would your heroes think then?”

“Tomura–” you snap, voice gaining some bite, a warning.

But for some reason he presses, “How badly does the Hero Commission want you now? With a Quirk like that?”

“What?” you ask, suddenly shocked.

“Don’t be naive,” Tomura says and there’s an edge to his voice. He sucks in a breath, “That’s a big Quirk. Destroying someone else’s? You don’t think they’ll be interested in that?”

You feel the pressure of tears work their way through your head, your throat. Your fingers clutch so hard at the phone that your knuckles are turning white and before you can think, you hiss out, “And how interested are you now?”

“As interested as I was before.” he returns, sharp and quick, and then with a vitriol he hasn’t directed at you in months, he says, “Don’t compare me to them.”

You bare your teeth, tears stinging sharp at your eyes, prepared to fight back when he hisses, “Mark my words, they won’t let you go now.”

“Stop it,” you spit, “You don’t know anything–”

And he laughs at that, caustic, harsh, a grating sound. Villainous. It slithers through the phone, down your spine. Your stomach twists. You hate this– your head is throbbing. You don’t want to fight. You want to stop crying, God, you wish you could just stop crying–

“I’ll be here when you realize it.” he says and there is too much heat behind his voice, simmering and venomous. You can feel the end of this conversation, the bitter goodbye in his words.

Your bottom lip trembles, and for some foolish, lovesick reason, you gasp, “Wait– don’t hang up–”

But you hear the click of the other line and he’s fallen away from you, leaving you with an empty, static silence that buzzes around in your head. In your heart.

You throw your phone across the room. You hear it clatter somewhere in the darkness. You turn to press your face into your pillow and let out a sudden, childish scream. It tears at your throat, before tapering off into this pathetic little sob.

It’s worse because he ends up being right.

And it’s ironic because it’s another string tethering you to him, the ability to destroy something with a touch.

It’s like some part of him knew all along, or maybe some part of you.

You scream into your pillow again, louder, kicking at your covers before it breaks off into a bitter cry.

***

The Hero Commission is very interested in the new discovery of your Quirk. They run tests and scans on you, over and over again, trying to find something interesting. They want you to practice with it, but there’s no way for you to practice without potentially destroying other people’s Quirks.

They offer up criminals to practice on.

It turns your stomach.

“I don’t want to do this,” you tell Shouta one night after another long series of poking and prodding at you by white coats from the Hero Commission.

Shouta is silent for a moment, “No one is making you.”

“But they want me to. It’s expected of me.” you tell him.

“They want to make sure you can control it,” Shouta answers, “And the only way to do that is practice, unfortunately.”

Or do they just want to be sure they can control me? The question bubbles up unbridled inside of you. It sounds suspiciously like Tomura’s voice.

You frown, “I can control it. I don’t go around destroying Quirks with every touch. I just mute Quirks still.”

“Under distress, too? Can you summon it completely calmly? Or stop it in an instant?” Shouta asks.

“I don’t know– no, I don’t think so.”

“Then you can’t fully control it.” he answers, which makes you ball your hands into fists.

“It doesn’t feel right taking people’s Quirks– practice or not. And it’s controlled enough.” you respond, gaining a sudden edge to your voice.

“Then don’t do it.” Shouta responds, almost impassively.

You try not to grow upset or so frustrated that you say something you might regret. You swallow tightly. “Will you be disappointed? If I don’t?”

Shouta tilts his head and in the quietness you fear he will be, but he eventually answers, “No. You’re right; you have it controlled enough that it doesn’t hinder your day-to-day life.”

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Besides, if you’re under that amount of distress again, it probably flares for a good reason. It’ll probably save you if you ever need it again.” Shouta then says, “And if what they want you to do doesn’t feel right to you, then you shouldn’t do it.”

You stare up at him, a little surprised but–

Relief sweeps through you, sweet and cool.

“I trust your instincts,” Shouta says, the curl of his lips small but promising, as he reaches out to nudge your chin with his knuckle.

The guilt blindsides you later, so hard that it makes you lock yourself in your bathroom and keep a sob trapped behind the palm of your hands.

But for now, you smile up at him, the curve of your smirk playful, something he hasn’t seen from you in what feels like forever that you give to him again freely.

“Can I get that one in writing?” you ask and his answering laugh strikes you so suddenly it almost makes you dizzy and it’s like hearing the notes to one of your favorite songs that you hadn’t heard in a long time.

Like you couldn’t ever imagine forgetting it, now that you’ve heard it again.

***

Tomura wonders what it will take to make you leave your heroes.

Specifically, your precious mentor.

When he sees you again, you look like you did before nearly bleeding out in front of him and destroying the Quirk of another. It’s almost as if it never happened at all, almost like your argument never happened at all, either. In this little apartment where the rest of the world doesn’t exist, just you and him and sometimes Ryuji.

Except when he lifts your shirt there is a twisted, ugly scar from where they patched you up. Another at your shoulder. He doesn’t kiss it or run his fingers over it gently, he doesn’t make any sort of comment. He just thumbs at your waist and glares at it, wishes he could make it disappear like the villain who gave it to you.

(Not because he finds it ugly or unacceptable, only that it is now a permanent reminder of what he’d seen. Only that it reminds him that you are not guaranteed to him, not in life nor in loyalty).

You’re a little hesitant with him now. You feel more fragile to him now, too, like you’re holding something back, waiting for everything to finally fall.

The inevitable crash and break.

Tomura is gentler with you– he knows he needs to play his cards right now. It’s crucial. Something is building, even for the League of Villains. There’s more on the horizons.

And despite everything, he wants you there, when the sun is bloody and falling on a dismembered, new world.

He thinks he shouldn’t have pushed you now, when you’re so delicate, barely stitched together. But he had– he’d started another argument. He’d tried to convince you of the heroes’ lack of care for you, their greediness upon discovering the depth of your Quirk.

You throw it back in his face; isn’t that what All For One does to him? Isn’t that what he does for the League of Villains? Aren’t they all just pawns for him? Is that what he wants of you?

He seethes, digging into the skin of his neck desperately. You don’t stop him. He can feel the facade of this little apartment beginning to crumble, fall away into dust and he–

He knows he destroys everything he touches.

But you were supposed to be different.

(You are, his mind hisses, you are, you are, and that’s the worst part of it all).

You storm out that night. You leave him, no doubt to return to your precious mentor.

He thinks about destroying the entire apartment complex. He could now– he knows what’s coming. He won’t be staying here any longer. He has plans, so many plans.

You come back to him a week later, though. You’re bound to him in some way, returning again and again when you know you shouldn’t.

The make-up part is nice, with him buried so deep inside you that he’s trying to turn your stomach. Make you sick with him, the way he is with you. Your gasping moans, with the arch of your body far too pretty for hands like his.

And still, you lay on his chest afterwards, you let him run his fingers over the planes of your shoulders, the line of your pretty neck. He drags his knuckles against your soft skin, enamored with the feeling, with the way you soothe the haunting, sunken part of him. His Quirk submits to yours easily, dimmed inside of him. Maybe he should be frightened of your new potential.

But you’ve never been frightened of him, so he’s not of you, either.

You’re very bold, though, he thinks, for you to say, “Your parents were cruel.” After the argument you both had last time.

He tenses beneath you, grits his teeth. He’d thought you’d both learned your lesson, getting too personal in a place as sacred as here.

“You don’t know anything,” he says and it’s just a breath. Surprisingly toothless. He’d said it to you last time, in your argument. You’d said it to him before that. It feels almost ironic now.

You shake your head against his chest, your nose nudging into him, lips soft against his skin. You remain calm. “I know your name is Tomura. They were very cruel to give you that name.”

You say this as if it’s a fact, something as simple as the sky being blue. But it’s dark out now and the stars are dull, the moon just a scythe in the sky, caught in the window’s glare.

“What?” he demands quietly.

At least you have the guts to tilt your head up to find his eyes now. You look up at him through dark lashes.

“Your name–” you say again, gentle, “It means ‘to mourn.’ I don’t know why anyone would give their child such a sad name.”

He knows what his name means.

But this takes him by surprise, for some reason. Only because it’s not the name his parents gave him. You don’t know that, though. You don’t know anything about him, technically. He has the urge to tell you suddenly, that’s not my name.

He doesn’t, though. He stays silent. It’s his name now. And he likes the way you say it, the syllabus softened by whatever it is you feel for him.

(He won’t give it a name, he’s realizing now that names can be very powerful.)

Your fingers are gentle on him, rubbing strange patterns against a scar near his collar bone.

You have rendered him silent.

And eventually, as you begin to drift off to sleep, you murmur, “You were just a kid, you know?”

He doesn’t really know what you’re getting at, only that it does something strange to the tempo of his heart. He swallows hard, tries to keep his fingers gentle on you. Your breathing has slowed, the rise and fall of your back measured and even, but his has gotten tight.

He squeezes you against him, glaring at nothing, at darkness.

You were just a kid, you know?

It’s this part of you, the one that sees the human in him, that makes him think maybe you will be at his side until the bitter end of it all. Your compassion, the sympathy you have for the child he was, for the person he somehow became. Your unending ability to understand the worst of people.

He doesn’t dwell on the child he was, just has buried it in the cemetery of his chest– a part of him that only you have been able to reach through Quirk, through something too massive to name. You’ve soothed it, put it to rest like the dead, lit your incense in the spaces of his heart. Said your prayers along the notches of his ribs. Tried to appease that restless spirit that possesses him.

He doesn’t know why, but he starts to shake. He can hardly breathe.

And in the dark, when he thinks you’re asleep, and his secrets will be lost to your dreams, he admits for the first time in years what has always trembled inside him. He speaks the tragedy that has made a home of his body, the mourning that he was given name to;

“I wanted to be a hero– when I was a kid.”

***

Tomura thinks, for a moment, when you’re splattered in blood, that this will be your great turning point.

Your fall, the tearing and burning of your wings from your holy back. It will hurt, but he will be there on the ground with you, a hand extended to guide you. He will be there to cradle you into his chest, to hold you close when your world falls apart.

The way All For One was there for him.

The beginning of the end starts with you being a hero.

But you save the wrong person.

Toga’s been following him around as she does every so often, dogging in his shadow, skipping along beside him. You’ve become accustomed to her, too. She likes having you around. Something about not being the only girl. You’re kind to her in the same way he thinks you probably wanted kindness at her age.

The sky is mottled purple, bruised as the day sets into night. The sun looks like an open wound, violent and red.

When he thinks about it, he figures he should’ve been more careful, but then there’s a petty villain Tomura knows vaguely, someone they’ve clashed with before, who he’s pretty sure Dabi and Toga pissed off. He spots Toga first. Your back is turned to him.

“Uh oh,” Toga says, peering over your shoulder.

Tomura grabs your wrist, “Hide,” he hisses, and when you try to peer over your shoulder at what Toga is looking at, he forces you back around so the villain doesn’t see your face.

He doesn’t know why he saves you like that. Only that he doesn’t want you to get in trouble, doesn’t want you taken from him like that. He is not an idiot; if the villain recognizes you, if it somehow got around that you were seen with two of the most notorious villains, the Hero Commission would eat you alive.

And here’s the part that really gets him. You listen to him. You trust him.

You dart away, swift and fast like a fox, disappearing into the shadows the way you were trained to.

“Hey!” the villain shouts and he’s large, Tomura remembers now.

Stupid, too, he thinks, as he barrels towards them.

The glint of Toga’s knife in the sun makes him pause.

Better to not engage, Tomura thinks, not yet, not now. Too much on the horizon for something foolish to happen tonight. The apartment isn’t far from here. He hopes you’ll retreat there. He just needs to get Toga away safely now.

“Oh, I’ve missed fighting!” she sings.

“No,” Tomura rasps, “Don’t engage. We need to go, too.”

She whines a long and drawn out, “Why?” just as the hulking mass of a person swings at her. She ducks away easily, quickly.

However, then his Quirk bursts to life and it’s far worse than what Tomura had hoped for. He doubles in size, his arms in particular growing longer, and fill out with what seems to be rushing water.

“Dammit, Toga,” he hisses, shoving her out of the way as the villain blasts a large cannon of water at her.

Tomura takes the hit hard, black coloring his vision when he hits the ground.

In truth, he thinks he is out for at least a full minute, because when he’s come to, you’re shouting at the villain. You’re tugging desperately at his massive shoulder, clawing and screaming. You’ve canceled his Quirk, but he’s still too big, even without it.

Toga is pinned beneath that arm, choking and spluttering, drenched. It actually looks like she’s choking on water. She can’t even scream, too garbled, too water-logged. She looks like a doll, she looks horribly small. Her face is turning a deep shade of red as she struggles for breath. Her little hands claw at his wrist, too.

Tomura tries to stand, his vision swimming, swaying so bad that for a minute everything goes sideways.

Fuck, he curses, just as he watches you get tossed away by that villain’s other hand like you’re nothing. His Quirk suddenly ripples back to life and he blasts Toga with another bout of water, plastering her to the gravel, the onslaught of it unending.

You’re up in an instant, throwing yourself onto his neck, trying to wrench him off. His Quirk disengages again, and Toga heaves and gasps for breath, coughing up large amounts of water.

“You’re going to kill her!” Tomura finally can catch onto what you’re saying, what you’re desperately screaming. His ears ring.

You get thrown off again. More water. Toga is being blasted so hard that she can’t even choke or struggle.

Tomura thinks you’re trying to rationalize with them, you’re trying to explain you’re a hero. And to disengage. Stop, please stop, please stop–

He’s not listening, though, of course.

And he’s too big. You tried knocking him out, tried putting him to sleep with the grip of your elbow. You’re trying everything, even to crush his Quirk beneath yours. Tomura catches the flutters of pink, your inability to summon your destruction when you need it.

It wouldn’t matter anyways, not with how big he is. You struggle against powerhouses.

Tomura stumbles.

But you’ve always been gritty and sharp and determined, if nothing else. You have always fought so desperately for your life, never mind law or honor or glory.

He thinks he catches the glint of your knife, the desperate threat to let her go, leave her alone!

The villain grabs you with a massive hand around the throat, lifts you clear off the ground.

Toga has gone slack against the pavement in a puddle of water, face colored a strange shade of red and blue. A little like the way the sky blurs before his eyes.

You kick and thrash, a horrible growl wretched from your throat. You don’t think, just lash out.

And then there is blood. So much blood. It’s all over Toga now, seeping into the water– did she cut him? She managed to cut his throat? Because that’s where the blood is pouring out of–

Tomura sways.

You’re dropped.

You stumble away.

Your blade– the one you used to threaten him with, is bloody.

“Fuck!” you shout, raw and so sudden that it jars him a little. He forces himself over to the scene. So much blood. His stomach rolls.

He looks at you, your shell-shocked face. You’re looking at the knife, at the blood. At Toga, who's still not moving.

He goes to her first, tries to shake her a little, fingers held away from her shoulders carefully. For a moment, she doesn’t respond, limp and lifeless and something inside of him threatens to overwhelm him. No, no–

Her eyes flutter, though, and she wheezes for a breath, suddenly turning over to vomit up far too much water.

“I-Is she-?” your voice, so small and lost, cuts through his thoughts.

He looks at you again, blood splattered and terror caught in your eyes. Pale and slack faced and half-mad. You look like a ghost, standing there in the aftermath, in your gruesomeness.

“She’s fine,” he says, just as she wretches up more water, “You saved her.”

Toga falls limp again. He checks frantically for a pulse at her wrist with two careful fingers. Still there. She needs a doctor, though. He stands to face you.

You make a noise, high pitched, trembling. You cover your mouth to keep it in, it’s something like a sob, an animalistic noise.

“I didn’t mean to– I didn’t, I didn’t– she was just–” you’re trying to get out, almost doubled over now.

Tomura doesn’t bother to check if you killed the villain. He knows the dead when he sees it. And he won’t lie to you now, he won’t soften this blow or shield you from it.

But he also knows what he needs to do.

You keel over, about to scream more and– no, that won’t do you any good.

He grabs for you, hauls you back up and you’re shaking so hard that he fears you’re going to split apart. You’re about to lose it.

“Listen to me,” Tomura hisses and you choke on a cry. He shakes you a little, tries to force you to look at him and not the body behind him. Your eyes, feverish pink, meet the wildfire of his, “Listen to me.”

“I– I don’t–”

“Sshh,” Tomura hisses, palm going to your cheek, a little too rough, forcing you to look at only him. “Sshh, listen.”

You try to swallow and he continues, “You’re going to call reinforcements. You’re going to tell them there’s a villain down.”

“W-what?! I’m going to– they’re going to–”

He shakes you again, harder, your teeth click together with the force of it. He needs you to understand this– needs you to hear this if he wants to keep you safe and out of jail.

“Tell them I decayed him. And before that, tell them Toga cut him, and it splattered onto you. Say you heard commotion and like the good hero you are, you ran to help.”

“Tomura–” you sob.

“Do you understand me?” he snaps instead, grabbing you harder, his fingers curling against your cheek to press desperately into you. “Answer me!”

“Yes–” you gasp, wide-eyed and terrified. “Yes!”

“Good,” he hushes, wiping blood from your cheek, “Good. You saved her,” he tells you, “You saved her, do you understand?”

You nod, jerky, and he continues, hand petting your cheek, messily pushing your hair from your face, “You did everything right.”

Your breathing is still labored, but you’re quieting with the praise. When he thinks you can handle it, he breathes, “Now, are you ready? I’m going to decay him and the knife, then I’m going to leave with Toga. You’re going to call for help.”

You glance at the villain, lying lifeless, in his own pool of blood and Tomura ducks his head to force you to look at him. “Okay?” he asks, “Answer me.”

“Okay,” you exhale slowly.

“Good,” he murmurs, “Good. Now give me the knife.”

You press it, trembling, into his hands. It’s slick with blood. He forces himself to stay calm for you.

He steps away, let’s go of you. The knife turns to dust.

“Look away,” he commands then, his voice a rasp.

And you– you listen to him. You trust him. You turn away. He sets his hands on the villain. And just like that, his body breaks down, gore at first, until it is nothing but dust. It blows away easily.

And then he goes to Toga and he lifts her carefully. She’s like a ragdoll in his arms, soaked and cold. He’s certain to keep his hands away from her, fingers lifted away, but she lolls into his chest.

When you turn around, Tomura says, “Thank you for saving her.” And he means it.

You swallow hard. You look to where the villain was. He’s gone now.

“Now call your heroes, just like I said.”

You nod, eyes filling up with tears. That’s fine. They’ll have more sympathy for you, for what you’ve witnessed. They’ll believe you more. Your mentor will protect you, with those tears in your eyes.

Tomura’s eyes burn crimson as you pull out your phone, “Do what I said and you’ll be okay.”

And you do, just like that. You lift the phone to your ear. That semblance of calm that he had coaxed you into shatters the moment someone picks up on the other end.

Your voice goes high, near hysterical, “T-There’s a villain down–”

He turns away from you as you stutter and cry into the phone about what happened. You give them the lie he told you to feed them. You make Tomura out to be the villain, you make yourself out to be innocent. He holds Toga close to him.

He tries not to smile, a dizzy slip of a thing, as you do exactly as he told you to– as you lie and lie and lie through your teeth.

Toga stirs in his arms. Police sirens are heard in the distance. An ambulance for a pile of dust. The sun sets, darkness blanketing the world, shielding it from the light.

And as he stalks away, with Toga alive and in his arms, he thinks maybe he’ll make a villain of you yet.

***

The police believe you. It’s hard not to, when there is so little evidence otherwise. Tomura destroyed it all for you. It’s hard not to believe you, when you’re crying and terrified, as you should be for witnessing the death of another person at the hands of Himiko Toga and Shigaraki Tomura.

Shouta, however, is not as easily convinced.

Not after so many strange occurrences with Tomura.

When he brings you back to his apartment, when the door is shut tight, and you still stand in bloodied clothes with your teeth chattering, Shouta eyes you warily.

You want to shower, burn yourself beneath the spray of water, like you could wash away what you’d done. You squeeze your eyes shut.

You saved her.

You swallow down the lump in your throat.

“What really happened?” Shouta asks, almost tentatively, standing in the middle of his living room.

You turn and you don’t– you don’t know how you should react. Should you be offended that he’d doubt you? React in outrage after all that’s happened? Should you act confused? Play dumb?

You can’t stomach any of it. Not when someone’s dead at your hands. But someone is alive because of them, too.

Your eyes well up with fresh tears.

“I-I told you.” you choke out.

Shouta’s jaw ticks. He draws in a slow breath, “Something isn’t adding up. You have had more contact with Shigaraki Tomura than anyone has been able to have.”

Your stomach drops. Your tears fall harder.

“What’s going on?” he asks and the distance between you two feels massive. It feels continental in the small space of his living room. He seems suspicious.

The lie comes out on a sob, “I–I think he’s been stalking me.”

“What?” Shouta asks and any uncertainty he has in you evaporates as he watches your face crumple.

You let your guilt overwhelm you into choking on another cry, cover your mouth as if you could catch it in the palm of your hand. Shouta doesn’t know the truth of it, so he believes it.

He crosses that distance like it’s nothing now. He stands tall in front of you, reaches to try and brush tears away from your cheek.

“I don’t know–” you gasp, filling out your lie, “I think he's interested in me because of my Quirk. Because he can’t– I can’t decay, when he touches me.”

Shouta tips your face up towards his but you can’t look him in the eyes, let your eyes squeeze shut when he asks, “Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

“I don’t know–” you choke out, “I wasn’t sure.”

“Did something else happen?” Shouta prods gently and you grit your teeth to keep back another sob. More tears cut tracks down your face, right into Shouta’s waiting, gentle hands.

There is a long moment where you think of giving everything up. You think of telling Shouta everything, if only to lift the weight that has settled onto your chest. Surely, it will crush through your sternum, surely your heart will burst with it’s pressure.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper, “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

“No,” Shouta says then, gentle but firm, shaking his head, “I know it may feel like it–”

“He was going to kill her.”

This stops Shouta. He goes very, very still.

“What?” he rasps softly.

“He was drowning her– he wouldn’t stop. I tried to get him to stop and he started choking me–and she saved me by–” It’s a fabrication to save yourself. That’s not how it went! Your mind screeches, that’s not how it went– you saved her by killing–

Toga was turning blue, she didn’t help you. She didn’t save you. She was drowning. She didn’t kill him. You did.

“You saved Toga Himiko, a notorious villain, one of the most wanted–”

“He was killing her!” you hiss, “She was turning blue–”

“She’s a powerful villain, too, you should’ve tried–”

Something inside of you fractures, bursts apart the way glass does when thrown against a wall. You think there are a million, shining pieces of you now lying on the floor.

“She’s Shinsou’s age!” you snap, hoping one of your shards cuts him, suddenly half-furious through all your tears. “She’s Shinsou’s age, do you know that?!”

You break now, wrenching away from Shouta’s touch and rushing to double over the sink to dry heave again, body squeezing painfully. You threw up everything in your stomach already at the scene, when recounting the story to the police, to Shouta. You claw at your stomach, trying to stop it, to keep it all down inside of you. You curl your fingers into the divots of your ribs, try to force them to give you air, but they won’t– betrayers that they are, they squeeze and squeeze until there’s nothing of you left.

Your knees buckle, head spinning when you turn away from the sink and crumple into a heap on the floor,“She’s just a kid,” you wail desperately, “That’s all I saw when I tried– when I–”

Your head bows forward, body folded in on itself, forehead digging into the ground as you cry, “I didn’t mean for him to die, I didn’t mean it– I didn’t, I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Shouta moves again finally, drops to his knees down beside you. He cradles your skull in his large hand, pushes your head into the crook of his neck to hold you, “It’s alright,” he breathes, curling his other arm tight around you, “It’s not your fault,” he hushes, “It’s not your fault.” You sob hard into his chest, fingernails digging into him, clawing at his biceps, “Sshh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

And he holds you, buries you in the bulk of him, like he always has when you need him. Your constant, the love you never once deserved. Especially not now. Especially not here, with blood stained on your clothes, sunk to the floor with nothing but the anchor of your guilt.

He strokes your hairline, gentle, cooing softly to try and calm you.

He murmurs, his voice so deep and soft and earnest, “You’re a good hero.” When you make a strangled noise against him, he presses on, “You are. You’re compassionate. You see everyone’s humanity and that’s a good thing.”

He hushes more of your cries, fingers gentle in your hair, and you try not to throw up again when he tells you;

“You’re a good hero, I promise. I promise.”

The beginning of the end starts with you being a hero for a villain.

***

The next time you see Tomura, he questions you about what happened, if you pulled it off. You tell him you managed it, somehow. You don’t tell him anything else. You don’t tell him you haven’t been sleeping, that you can hardly keep food down. You don’t tell him that you take too many showers, trying to wash away the phantom blood.

You remember when it was Tomura’s blood on you, so long ago. A beginning that now seems so hazy. You hadn’t minded blood, then. You had never been particularly squeamish but now–

Now it could make you sick on your best days, downright hysterical on your worst.

Your guilt tears chunks out of you, bites down and shakes the meaty, soft parts of you until you’re all torn up.

It is easier to be with Tomura than Shouta now.

We have more in common, you think, and it makes you want to laugh, empty and wobbly.

You look in mirrors and hardly recognize yourself, wonder if this is really your body. If this is really your life, or if it’s someone else’s. Maybe you are possessed, maybe that explains how you got here.

You don’t tell him any of this. You stay silent.

And that’s okay because Tomura seems strangely quiet after that, pulling you to lay on his chest. He doesn’t let you put the TV on. You can tell he needs to think. You let your eyes drift close as he runs his fingers through your hair with a surprising amount of gentleness, compared to his usual petting.

But eventually he says, so soft that you fear you almost imagined it, “A yakuza head visited the League recently.”

Your eyes flutter open and in your surprise, you sit up a little, looking down at him. “Tomura–” you start, almost a warning.

He knows he isn’t supposed to talk like this here, in this little slice of another world.

But he continues anyways, his voice just a rough scratch, “He killed Magne.” And then, “And Compress no longer has an arm.”

Now you really pull away to look at him. You can feel your eyes widen out, your shock, then the stomach-turning sadness. His face is unreadable, but his jaw is tight. His eyes are simmering, so red, even in the low light like this.

“It was a set up.” he hisses, “I failed them.”

He doesn’t cry, but you can feel the slightest tremble in his body.

You hurt for him, you realize, your heart falling into the pit of your stomach. Those are two of his closest, some of his inner circle.

He looks shaken.

He looks young, with the weight of his world on his shoulders, with the crown of thorns placed on his head. Heir to a monstrous throne. All For One’s successor, boy prince to inherit an underground empire.

You just see him, though, just Tomura who's twenty, who likes sour candy and video games.

He swallows hard. He looks angry and hurt.

“Nobody mourns us,” he says eventually, looking away from you, somewhere in the darkness of the apartment.

Except you, you want to say, with a name like Tomura.

You lurch forward, throwing your arms around his neck, hugging him tight to you. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, soft, the way Shouta speaks to you, “I’m sorry.”

And then you think, I’d mourn you, and you squeeze him tighter, I’d mourn you, oh God, I’d mourn you–

He doesn’t hug you back, but you can feel the shaky breath he exhales, and the way his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt.

***

Tomura thinks it should be you, at his side, when he takes Overhaul’s arm. You are everything Overhaul wants. Your Quirk is what he has tried to bottle.

Tomura thinks you could’ve been useful, to switch off his Quirk, to destroy it in an incredible twist of irony. It would’ve been the ultimate power move, to have you at his side by the end of all of this.

But you’re not there, no, not with him.

You’re with your heroes, Toga had told him.

It shouldn’t, but it feels like a betrayal. It stings hard and sharp inside of him, like a livid bee that jabs at his heart.

He seethes about it. Hadn’t he done everything right with you? He’d played this game slow, knew that the rewards would be worth it.

You’re still walking away from him, though. You’re still not his.

And you’ve still got one of his ribs, left a gaping wound inside of him.

He wants it back. He wants it back.

***

Eri looks up at you with watery, red eyes when you first introduce yourself to her. You crouch to be on her level. She has silver hair. She’s timid, wobbly bottom lip and flushed cheeks.

You almost start crying, looking at her now. You wonder if this is what Tomura was like as a child– small and terrified of his Quirk, round red eyes pleading with the world. All you see in her is every other forgotten child.

“Hi, Eri,” you hush, half for her, half because you’re scared your voice might break.

“H-hello,” she trembles.

You try to keep your smile in place, but it’s a weak, sad thing.

Still, you say, “I’d like to be your friend, if you’ll have me.” And you extend your hand to her, palm up and offering. “I have a Quirk like Mr. Aizawa’s.” you tell her gently, “If you touch me while using your Quirk, it’ll stop.”

She brightens at this, not smiling but, surprised, “Really?” she asks, just a breath.

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat, “Really.”

She takes your hand then, eager, tightening with her small fingers, despite her Quirk still being off.

Then she looks up into your face and offers you a tentative smile. Small, just the corner of her lips lifting up.

“I’d like to be your friend, too.” she murmurs bashfully and you close your hand around hers. It’s small, almost fragile. She’s all bandaged up, arms wrapped in gauze.

You look at Eri and her red eyes and silver hair and see a coin toss, see it up in the air, spinning and spinning, catching in the light. A twist of fate like the flip of a coin.

But you think you could call it now, with her hand in yours, and the heroes that hover protectively around her.

***

There is a morning shared in blush light that isn’t the ending but feels like it could be one. In truth, you’d prefer to remember this as the ending, more of a whimper and less of a bang. The night before had been one of your better ones, too– you’d only woken once with a nightmare. Tomura had already been awake and he’d soothed you with a careful hand that drew patterns across the bare skin of your back.

That night, that morning, was gentle in the wake of all that violence, love taken root, finally bursting through your veins to make a mess of your insides.

Dawn is too mellow a place for the two of you.

(You have come to the conclusion that Tomura looks best in dusk, saturated, sharp and rich in color. Bold and vivid. You didn’t know it, but he thought the same of you.)

You never told him you loved him.

You think about that a lot, wonder if it would’ve made a difference in anything. You wonder who was the last person to tell him that, if anyone at all.

He’s still half hoping that you’ll follow him, but you think he knows he’s losing you. You are not content in fuming misery, cannot stomach to leave the mentor that has loved and cared for you with such perseverance and softness. You cannot stomach to turn away from the boy with violet hair, or now the girl that reminds you of him.

You wish you could keep him, too, despite it all, but all you see in the future with him is rubble.

In the least, you’ve always had a sense of preservations, survivor that you are, scavenger that you are. You know when to move on, can’t linger too much longer now or you won’t live through it.

You sleep better with Tomura, though, and that���s the cruel part. You wake with less nightmares. You sleep more soundly, wound up in him, so tight that you two might just grow together. Palm to palm, your Quirk quieting his, lulled and softened.

And that morning, you wake slowly, twisting around fitfully with the warmth that has blossomed gently inside of you.

Consciousness creeps to you, fighting against the pull of sleep, being coaxed awake by the fluttering of your heart, the slow roll in your core.

Your eyes lift, heavy with sleep, finally awake. You blink blearily before a sudden, sleep soft cry escapes past your lips.

You glance down the line of your body to find Tomura nestled between your legs, tongue tracing messy patterns into where you’re most sensitive. Your stomach swoops sweetly, flares into a spark of heat.

The light is soft on him. He cracks a ruby eye open to gaze at you, to open his mouth so you can watch the flash of glistening pink as his tongue laves against you slowly.

“About time you woke up,” he gets out, voice still morning-rough, a little grating. His fingers squeeze your thigh, pulling you apart further to be at his mercy, spread open all for him.

“Tomura–” you gasp, your hands finding their way into his hair, fingers gentle and weak with sleep.

He sets his mouth to you, sucks on the bundle of nerves in a way that makes you keen, almost arching away from him. He fixes his eyes on your face, watches as your expression twists up.

You can see the way his hips are twitching into the mattress. Sometimes you think he does this more for himself than you, takes pleasure in rendering you down to your most basic, most desperate.

Pleasure coils warm, simmers on the inside of you. Your fingers flex, tighten in his hair until he groans against you. When he pulls away for another moment to admire you, his lips are spit slick, a string of translucent spit and slick bridging between the two of you.

It makes you flush darkly, makes you throw your head back and whimper.

He takes you apart with the savagery and viciousness that he has always carried. Dawn spills over the bed sheets in rays of peach and honeysuckle, lovely for the impending destruction. You shatter like glass, pretty and ringing beneath his hands.

And then he’s flipping you onto your stomach, letting you claw at your pillow as he sinks deep inside of you. He hisses when he fucks into the crux of your sweet, supple thighs. Your hair is messy with sleep. He presses his chest to your back, presses you into the mattress.

You fist at your pillow, whining at the burn and stretch, and you can feel the sickle cut of his smile against the arch of your shoulder blades. He leaves sloppy kisses, scattering them, sucking at your skin until he has claimed and marked and branded you.

He nudges his nose against your cheek until you tilt your head back to his, to rub back affectionately, nudge into him like a cat. He hums in satisfaction, in pleasure, the sound of it rumbling against your back.

You feel like he’s trying to savor this. He doesn’t pull your hair, or speed up his hips. No, he waits until you arch your back for him, until you’re near begging.

He likes you weakened, maybe delirious, maybe like he’s giving you a dose of your own medicine. He’s trying to make you as addicted as he is, but there’s no need.

No need when he covers your hand with his, slots his fingers between yours. All five of them, squeezing at your hand.

“You were made for me,” he gets out, giving you a rougher thrust, his eyes flashing to your hands, “See?” he groans, fingers digging into your wrist, your knuckles, “Made for me.”

You moan, too, all wobbly and pitched, with all the pressure, with the squeeze of his hand. With the stretch of him inside where you’re vulnerable and soft and slick.

He drags everything out that morning, fucks you both into oversensitivity, until you’re both shuddering and gasping. He breaks you down, until there are tears streaming down your face, until he’s gripping you so tightly that he’ll leave a bruise in the shape of his hand.

He fits his hand against your throat at one point and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You end where you began, with the violet petal bruise of his fingertips into your skin.

You linger in bed with him that morning, letting him pet and stroke and touch you. You stay gentle, even when he gets rough.

You make cheap, bad coffee for the both of you.

You feel twenty something with a boy and his tiny apartment. A cat chirps at the window and you’re smiling when you let him in. The breeze is cool. You don’t put on clothes because you feel like an adult, with a lover.

You feel normal for a fraction of a moment after everything that’s happened.

You feel sated and tender and saddened. Your chest fills with aching as you watch Tomura drift in and out of sleep in the sunbeams.

You were made for me, he’d said and you reach out to brush a strand of hair from his face. You were made for me.

You swallow around the lump in your throat, the one that feels like needle pricks and the hard truth. You don’t have the heart to tell him that he may need you, but you don’t need him.

You want him, though, your fingers trailing down the lines of his face, you want him so badly that it hurts. Your fingers travel over the hitch of his scars, his body as familiar as a home.

You want him, but you don’t need him, you try to tell yourself in this moment. You want him, but you don’t need him. You will survive this.

Still, it’s going to hurt. You’re bracing for impact, can feel the free fall rush up to the ground, can feel your stomach swimming up where your heart is.

You’ll survive it, you think, breathing hard, trying to keep back your tears as you look at him. But it’s going to hurt, it might tear out something very precious inside of you.

You’d rather he just break your arm again. At the thought of it, you try not to choke on the bitter, furious laugh that splits from your aching ribs.

***

You get to know Eri, try to spend more time with her and Shouta and Shinsou like you’re trying to fix something you broke. The pieces aren’t quite matching up right, though. It can’t be fixed, not really, not fully.

You can’t close your eyes without seeing that villain in a pool of their own blood. Or Toga’s face made blue. Sometimes in these dreams, it’s Shinsou who is drowning. Sometimes the villain in blood is Shouta. Tomura is always the one who saves you.

You can’t look at yourself anymore. You can’t stomach to. Your lies explode out of you when you catch a glance of yourself, haggard and exhausted and beaten down.

Shouta takes you to a hospital after your fist collides with the mirror in your bathroom. Glass shatters into hundreds of reflections of your warped and terrible image. They’re not as pretty, when the sun isn’t setting in a warehouse with a boy that you think you love.

Your hand bleeds the way that man’s necks did–

Your world spins as you lean over the bowl of the toilet to throw up your lunch. You’d made it with Eri earlier, before Shouta had gotten home from class.

Shouta finds you on the floor, sitting in all that glass, with your hand clutched tightly to your chest. He must’ve heard the commotion next door.

“What happened?” he asks, voice flooding with concern. He doesn’t hesitate to step carefully over the glass to you.

The question feels too large for you.

I did something horrible, you think, that’s what happened.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter weakly, lifting your chin from its place on your chest. “I didn’t mean to.”

(That isn’t true and you know it.

(But you’re always trying to prove you’re good. Especially now. Especially to Shouta– trying to prove you’re worthy of his love.

You suddenly crave Tomura. You didn’t have to prove anything to him.)

Shouta lifts you carefully, cradles you to his body to carry you out to his car to bring you to the hospital. He treats you like you’re fragile, made of glass yourself. “What’s going on with you?” Shouta murmurs gently, but there's almost a plea in it, concern that is so transparent it hurts, “You’re scaring me– I’m worried about you.” he confesses, almost desperate, “You know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

The laugh that sputters out of you is hollow, a grating noise that gets choked off. Shouta looks at you warily, uncertain and fearful.

The hospital keeps you for three days. Eri asks Shouta about you, apparently. She misses you. Shinsou helps her decorate a card for you.

Get well soon! Is written in her poor handwriting with far too many colors, and in Shinsou’s messy scrawl at the bottom;

Miss getting my ass kicked by you.

The doctors tell Shouta you’re struggling with a lot of survivor’s guilt and you have to fight back another absurd, off-kilter laugh.

Part of you thinks you’d be better off with Tomura at this point (your coin uncertain, hanging suspended in the air), if only to relieve you of this guilt, when Shouta tends to you and cares for you and loves you so steadfastly that it makes you feel rotten and horrible and monstrous. He has no idea who he’s loving. And you don’t deserve any of it–

But you think of Eri and the way she clings to your sleeves. And how you and Shinsou share granola bars during training.

And mostly, you are terrified to be without them.

None of it’s the same, though, and you think it’ll eat away at you until you’re nothing at all but the empty lies you kept feeding them.

You want to be better, you realize, when Eri draws you in pictures, holding her hand. You want to be better, you realize, for kids like you, like her–

(Like Tomura–)

So you decide one night, with your hand still bandaged, with Eri sleeping peacefully on the couch in the crux of your arms, and Shouta at the opposite end of the couch, that you will stay with them. The easy thing to do would be to leave, to not look back. But you have always been nothing if not determined, if not a fighter.

You will become who they want you to be, who they believe you to be, even if it tears you apart from the inside out.

Which means giving up Tomura, which feels like giving up a rib.

***

You had hoped you’d be able to slip away from Tomura and leave your secrets in a rundown apartment in a part of the city you grew up in. You had hoped that you could get away unscathed, without Shouta ever knowing more.

But Dabi mentions you to Hawks.

Offhand. Something about another traitor hero. Something about Shigaraki’s bitch.

Tomura also mentions Hawks to you.

And here is your trouble, what you were hoping to avoid by never allowing him to speak about his plans; you now know that the Number Two Pro-Hero is a traitor. However, the only reason you know that, is because of your secret relationship with the leader of the League of Villains that you have been slowly, painstakingly trying to sever yourself from.

(It doesn’t help that he’s latched on tighter–)

So, if you go to Shouta to warn him that the Number Two Pro-Hero is a traitor, you have to also conveniently come forward with your own truth. And what if he thinks you’re a traitor, too?

Surely, it looks that way.

Truthfully, you might as well be– you killed someone.

You killed someone.

Your stomach squeezes tight.

You think of Shouta and Shinsou and Eri and the loss of their love, when you’ve been trying to earn it back.

You don’t get much time to mull this over, though, because while walking back to your own apartment at U.A., a shadowy span of wings fall over your form.

Your heart falls into the pits of you, the drop of it sharp, horrible.

You think running will make it look all the worse.

Besides, he’s fast.

You can’t decide how this will go. Maybe he’ll only want to speak with you, traitor to traitor. But then you will be confronted with the undeniable truth that you now need to share with Shouta, with the Hero Commission, for the sake of people’s safety. You will have to come clean. Maybe it will be worse. Maybe he’s not after you at all, but just in your neck of the woods because–

All other thoughts are cut short when he lands in front of you.

You try to think of a proper reaction. Should you be expecting him? On guard? Should you act surprised?

His wings flare and you realize quickly how massive they are. They throw you into their towering shadow, make you feel like a mouse.

His eyes glint when he pushes up his visor, the gold of them sharp, his pupils a pinprick. The eyes of a predator.

You try not to cower. You stand your ground, lift your lips a little like you might bare teeth in warning, your hackles raising. Backed into the corner, you feel half wild, too.

But Hawks beats you to any form of a greeting, his smile a menacing twist of his lips, like he’s trying to be pleasant but he wants you to see all of those sharp, white teeth of his. You think he doesn’t look like much of a hero in this darkness, with the way his wings look thorny and maroon. His voice is barbed wire, the drawl of it stinging.

You know you’re in deep trouble now;

“You and I need to have a little talk.”

***

You are kept in a steel room that the Hero Commission tells you is not a holding cell, but you definitely think is a holding cell.

Your mind has not slowed since you got here.

You scramble for a story to tell– for lies to sew.

Hawks is not a traitor. Not to the heroes’ at least. He is a traitor to the villains and you know, logically, that this is for the greater good, but something about it bothers you. Villains aren’t people to the Hero Commission. You feel strangely protective of Tomura’s league of outcasts, even if you know you shouldn’t.

But they’re young, with feelings and thoughts and lives and pasts.

Nobody ever mourns us.

No, they don’t, you think, trying to keep away bitter tears from springing to your eyes. They don’t bother trying to see the big picture, they don’t bother to try and figure out why villains are on the rise.

They can’t stomach the idea that maybe their precious hero system has given birth to their villains.

Or maybe they can and they just don’t care.

They need heroes for their charts and money and power, don’t they? So they need villains. A never ending cycle, forever going around on this carousel. You’re dizzy with it, you’re sick of it, caught up in it’s riptide.

You don’t look at Tomura Shigaraki and see the most dangerous, wanted criminal in the country. You see a twenty-year-old pawn, a chip in a bigger game. You see someone as starving and desperate as you were.

You see a coin flip.

(You see the person you fell in love with–)

Shouta enters silently and the moment you see him, you have to try to keep from bursting into tears. Your lip wobbles.

He approaches slowly, cooly, but when he gets near you, his eyes are livid and searching your face, like maybe he could finally find the lies you’d kept buried so deep inside of you. They’ve finally blossomed, you think, all of them sprouting from your body, creeping through your lungs and up your throat to choke you out.

“Tell me the truth finally.” Shouta says, sharp and icy. He speaks like he’s speaking to a criminal, “Now.”

You suck in a shaky breath, try not to flinch when he leans across the metal table and snarls, “And if you are a traitor, at least have the decency to tell me now, before they come in here and interrogate both of us.”

Tears catch in your lashes.

Through the throbbing of your head, you realize you have jeopardized Shouta in the way you never wanted.

“I’m not a traitor.” you get out, voice quiet but firm, barely above a whisper.

“No?” Shouta clips and you can see it now, the hurt in his eyes. He feels betrayed, deeply so, and you can’t even blame him. “Hawks says differently. Says you’ve been working with Shigaraki.”

You rub furiously at your cheek to try and keep the tears from falling, shaking your head quickly, “No–”

“Then what happened?” he snaps and through the blur of your own tears, you catch the way his own eyes glisten.

“I didn’t tell you everything, when I said I thought Shigaraki was stalking me.” you say, having readied this lie the moment that Hawks brought you to the Hero Commission’s doors. You give them the story they want to hear of you, not the one where you fell in love, but the one where you jeopardize yourself for them. You are careful to peer up at him through damp lashes, “I–I got close to him, because he let me, because he was interested in me.”

Shouta goes very, very still. All you can see is his chest rising and falling, quick, as he slowly begins to walk the path you’re leading him down.

“And I thought he might tell me his plans, I thought that I could help–”

“No,” Shouta says in disbelief as it all begins to connect, leaning away from you in shock, “Please tell me you didn’t–”

You lurch towards him slightly, naturally, your hands coming up to the table like you’re reaching for him. “I wanted to prove I could do this–” you choke out, voice breaking, “I wanted to prove I could do undercover work like you wanted– like they wanted!”

“What were you thinking?” he hisses in return.

“You never would’ve let me do this!” you snap, almost plead with him, and it must strike true because he looks away from you momentarily, “I-I saw an opening so I tried to take it– I was perfect for it. Shigaraki was interested in me. I used to be a thief. I would’ve fit in.”

The moment you say it, you realize how true it rings. It startles you, maybe, with how close you were. Almost, but didn’t, your coin doing an extra rotation in air. And why didn’t you? Why not be with Tomura now? Why not be where you fit in most? Where hero society wanted and expected you to be?

“I’m not a traitor,” you cry, tears tracking down your cheeks freely now– you think you’re trying to convince yourself as much as Shouta now, “I promise I’m not a traitor– I couldn’t do that to you. O-or Shinsou. Or Eri–”

And there is your reason. The truth to disguise your lies. You look at him, across from you, his face almost unreadable, with his furrowed brows and tense jaw. His eyes shine, though, gleam with unshed tears as he listens to you. The man who gave you everything, who has cared for you since the moment he found you– perhaps the sole reason your coin has flipped in their favor. All because he did more than what was asked of him, because maybe he just saw someone starving, too, like the way you did with Tomura.

Believe me, you plead, believe this.

There is a long stretch of silence after that, where all you can get in is hiccuping breaths.

Finally, Shouta asks, “Did you find anything out about him? Or the League of Villains?”

You exhale hard with relief, your shoulders finally falling. You collapse somewhat, exhausted, folding in on yourself.

You hang your head, then shake it slowly, “No,” you sniffle, wipe at your drippy nose, “He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t trust me.”

Shouta eyes you warily.

“So that’s why you encountered him so much. That’s why you were there with Toga Himiko when–” Shouta cuts himself off when he sees your wince, the shuddering of your features at the mention of that incident. But he finally put all of the pieces together. All the pieces you’ve given him, at least.

You nod, stray tears falling quick, dripping off your chin, “I’m sorry for lying,” you get out, “I hated it— I hated lying to you.”

Truth.

Shouta throws you a hard look, “You shouldn’t have. It was dangerous and irresponsible. And now look at what you’ve done–”

Your stomach knots up tightly.

“I thought I could handle it.” You breathe and there is another truth, sprinkled throughout your lies.

But you were so horribly wrong–

Shouta is about to open his mouth again, but the door swings open and a man in a suit enters slowly. His gaze is cool as it falls on you and Shouta. You know this isn’t the end of your conversation with him, you know he wants to know more. But now, he focuses on the higher up that encourages him to sit, too.

He says, because Shouta has been such an upstanding hero and teacher, they are allowing him the courtesy of explaining everything now.

And then you watch as Shouta opens his mouth and lies and lies and lies for you.

He tells them that it was his idea to allow you to get close to Shigaraki. He knew, every step of the way. He tells them he bypassed speaking with a committee at the Hero Commission’s because it would’ve taken too much time. He says that they needed to act quickly and accordingly.

He takes the brunt of it, saves you from far more trouble. He’s a trusted hero. You’re an ex-thief in the eyes of the Hero Commission with a too-big Quirk. They won’t believe you and truthfully, if they did more digging, if they pried more, there is a chance that the truth might leak out of you, open like a wound.

Shouta protects you, the way he always has. You don’t deserve it and you can feel your heart tearing itself to shreds.

You know you can’t go back to Tomura, not after all this.

You watch Shouta lie for you, speak for you, get you out of the grave you have dug yourself. For the second time in your life, Shouta saves you. You try to hold back more tears, you try to hold back from throwing yourself onto him, clinging to him.

And finally, they ask, “Did you learn anything, then? About Shigaraki Tomura?”

He likes sour candy. He has trouble sleeping. He drinks too many energy drinks. There is a scar at the corner of his lip. He has a beauty mark on his chin. He is desperate and starved of love. He let’s a kitten sleep in the sunlight of his apartment. He tries to take care of the League to the best of his ability– he cares about them more than he will admit. He is not heartless. His hands are often cold but seeking, longing for what he can’t have.

Your eyes well up with tears but you take a slow, steadying breath. They don’t want those pieces of him, the human, messy ones. No, they want to know how evil he is, how diabolical his next plan is going to be. But you don’t know any of that, just that he holds you as if he never wants to let you go when you fall asleep at night.

So you’re not lying when you say;

“I don’t know anything about Shigaraki Tomura.”

Only that he wanted to be a hero– when he was a kid.

***

The days following are the worst between you and Shouta.

He doesn’t trust you anymore. You can’t fight him. You have nothing to say, which is perhaps worse than if you tried to fight with him.

There’s no defending you, especially if Shouta even knew half of the truth. He barely speaks with you some days.

He wedges the distance between you two wide, forces it apart further.

He does not comfort you, he does not hold you when you cry this time. He’s not there with soothing, hushed words or the gentle touch of his hand to your cheek.

A piece of his trust is broken, now so severely that it’s just a jagged edge, something you don’t think can ever be soothed.

(And you’re right, in some way– there’s a deep shift in your relationship with him, changed and scarred. It never returns to what you once had, when your life was very simple and all you knew was him.)

He doesn’t ever say, I forgive you. I will trust you again, in time.

But he eventually will make dinner for you again and you will sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder at his table with a respectable, lonesome distance between his heart and yours.

Nothing is ever the same again.

You think about running– from Shouta, from Tomura, from all of it. It would be the easiest option, where you never have to look either in the face again.

But the Hero Commission looks at Eri the same way they looked at you when they discovered you could destroy Quirks and you can’t stomach the idea of leaving her to them.

(Tomura was right in a lot of ways.

And when there’s a war on the horizon and the Hero Commission seeks to use you as a weapon, you will think of him again.

I’ll teach you, if that’s what you want, he’d said to you once. And he did.

You hate the system, the endless cycle, Prometheus chained to his rock, the need of villains to have heroes, the creation of heroes to make villains. The endless bodies, the using and discarding of real, human lives for a greater good. You wish you could destroy it.

But there is more than only destruction, too. What good is rubble and ruin and death?)

You stay so you can do what you can, so you can protect a child with red eyes, with silver hair, and a Quirk too big for their own body.

And you think maybe if you stay with her, it makes up for leaving Tomura.

***

You go to Tomura one last time, walk the distance to his apartment with your hands shoved into your pockets. It’s a familiar walk now. The pavement is wet from rain. It’s cold out. You don’t know what you’re going to tell him. You wonder how he’ll react– for a moment, you’re fearful. Will he lash out? For a moment you wonder if he’ll try to kill you.

But you know, deep down, he wouldn’t. Won’t.

And you won’t pretend you’re scared of him now. You won’t play the innocent hero, not in front of him.

The moment Tomura sees you, he knows something has changed. You are too expressive and now you look at him with a sense of foreboding. With a sadness that he feels uncomfortable gazing at.

You tell him, “I got in trouble with the Hero Commission.”

For a moment, he lets his hope grow and stretch inside of him. Maybe this is finally your turning point, your fall from grace that he will catch you on. But no, your lip wobbles and your eyes dart away.

“I can’t see you anymore,” you whisper.

At first, he wants to snap at you, hiss out something cruel between his bared teeth. Maybe if you had done this a few years ago, a few months ago, he would lash out, try to tear into his neck or you or the world. He thinks about hurting you, slamming you against a wall or–

The thought is unfortunately repulsive to him. He doesn’t want to hurt you, not like that.

His anger and resentment wells inside of him, swarms his chest viciously. He wants to argue, to point out every way your heroes have failed you. The world feels so absurdly unfair suddenly, to give him you– you who quiets his Quirk and touches him gently and winds your arms around him in the way he likes so much– only to then take you away, too. You who destroys with a touch, too. Who is perfect at his side.

But for all his work and care and strategy, he can’t get you to stay.

You will run back to your heroes.

You don’t need him, he realizes now. But you have his rib, tucked away inside of you. He wants to dig into you, pry it out, rip it from your body and take it back for himself.

But you’re crying.

And you’re pretty in the dark, like you’ve always been. This time, though, you’re not looking for a fight, there is no viciousness in you now. Maybe you’re too tired to fight.

So instead of erupting, instead of lashing out, Tomura steels himself. He’ll play the longer game, then. You don’t want to go, but you will. You’ll go back to your heroes and they will disappoint you. As they always do, at some point, eventually.

You will come back to him again, he tells himself.

And he will be forgiving, the way All For One has been with him. He sees it now; you, needing his hand, needing him to take you back. He will welcome you back into his arms, as if you hadn’t even left, and you will know then that you were right to leave.

He gazes at you, red eyes smoldering, “Then don’t.” he rasps and he’s trying to remain dispassionate, but his voice has a trembling note in it, the hidden fear underneath the harsh coolness.

Your eyes flicker back to him, your lips parting in surprise. You wipe at your eyes.

“So that’s it?”

And this makes him angry, the sharp tug of it like a dog at the end of it’s leash. He lurches forward threateningly, like he might hurt you.

(You don’t flinch. And he stops himself before he gets too close.)

“What?” he snaps, “Did you want me to beg for you to stay?”

He wants to, he realizes, he wants to howl and scream and tear apart everything in sight. He wants to say don’t go, don’t go, don’t slip from me, too.

He wants to bargain with you– what is it he can’t give you that they can?

Your heroes only love you because they don’t know you, they don’t know what you’ve done. Your heroes only love you as far as truth and justice go. A hero would sacrifice you for the greater good and you would agree with them, even if you were shaking and crying, even if you burned with all that liveliness.

But he’d sooner sacrifice the world for you.

You have his rib, he wants to scream, of course he wants to beg.

You shake your head, though, more tears falling free, “No,” you say, voice surprisingly strong, “No, I never made you beg.”

The truth of it burrows beneath his skin. He knows. The itch squirms beneath his skin. His hand reaches up, digs into the crook of his neck to scratch at it.

It’s Dabi’s voice in his head that says something about getting too distracted with this braindead hero. He has bigger plans than hiding in an abandoned apartment with you. More to do. You were nothing but a side quest.

His pause screen.

Besides, what’s there to be upset about? You’ll come back.

He won’t even punish you for leaving, he promises. He promises.

“Then that’s it.” Tomura tells you, a bitter curl to his lips.

There’s no goodbye, just the breeze between the two of you, the empty space that he always hated. The nothingness between that he always sought to destroy.

Eventually, he just turns away from you. He can’t stomach looking at you any longer. He can feel your eyes pressing into his retreating form– he imagines you rushing for him, crashing into his back to throw your arms around his middle. You can’t do it, you’ll cry, burying your face between his shoulder blades. And he’ll freeze, but eventually he’ll wrap his arms around yours and bow his head with the strength of your feelings for him.

Or he imagines later, when it’s the end of the world, and you emerge from the rubble to reach for him. It’ll be like his dreams, when the sky is falling, and you only want to hold his hand in yours.

He imagines you shouting to him, changing your mind, saying his name like it’s a song to sing, not mourning bells, not a curse or an affliction.

But none of it happens.

And when he turns around, you are gone.

You leave his life as viciously as you entered it, suddenly there, all furious and beautiful, and now gone, like a lightning strike, like a lifetime.

***

You tell yourself you’re going to be fine, but you spend random days weeping over a villain. You spend long nights awake, missing him, replaying it all in your mind. You cover all your mirrors. You try to be different. You wish you could say you regret ever getting involved with him, but it would be one more lie. You wish for the time before the worst of it, the strange honeymoon you never should’ve had.

You wish you’d remembered to slow down, to savor it all a little more. You try to remember what your first kiss was like and the shade of his eyes through the evening light of an abandoned warehouse.

You try to remember when you didn’t feel so heavy, so corrosive and lost.

It doesn’t help that you’re suspended from heroing; a choice made by both the Hero Commission and Shouta. There’s nothing for you to do some evenings.

Shouta lets you train with him and Shinsou still. Shinsou tries to cheer you up, though he doesn’t know what’s wrong with you. Still, it hurts because he’s trying. It hurts because he cares so much, even about you.

You don’t deserve it, after everything.

You take care of Eri more, too, now that she is nearly in Shouta’s care. You babysit her while he’s away. You grow close with her, fiercely protective of the young girl, careful to keep the Hero Commission at a distance from her. She settles in your lap on the couch in Shouta’s apartment most evenings, watching TV and movies, while he grades papers at the opposite end.

Sometimes she falls asleep tucked into your side. You stroke her silver hair and try to bite back tears.

She catches you, sometimes, perceptive as she is, and asks very gently, “Why are you sad?” even if a tear hasn’t slipped free yet.

And you always shake your head, trying to dispel the thought of Tomura and the parents that gave him such a tragic name as a child. You force a smile for her and you tell her something silly to distract her, “I’m not,” you promise, “I just think there’s an onion nearby.”

She wrinkles her nose at this, “No, there isn’t!” but she’s easily distracted with tickles or the promise of painting her nails or having a tea party with Shouta.

Miraculously, your relationship with Shouta begins to heal, despite your betrayal. You think he can tell something worse happened to you during your time with Tomura, you think he can tell that you’re hurting, so he ends up gentler with you. He doesn’t trust you, though, keeps you on a tight leash. He looks at you some days like he isn’t quite sure he knows you.

Nothing is the same. Part of you wants to regret it. The part of you that loves Tomura can’t stomach the idea of regretting it. Someone is dead because of you. Someone is alive because of you, too.

But Shouta doesn’t ask and you don’t tell, can’t seem to speak the words.

You can’t even say, I fell in love, can’t speak the truth because it is so horrible.

And you know what everyone would ask; who could love the likes of him?

Me, you think, vehement and grief-stricken, me, you think defiantly. Why couldn’t you? He was a child once–

Shouta lets you burrow into his chest, wraps his arms around you. He sways with you in the kitchen until you can keep back your tears, until your heart has slowed to the tempo of his. He kisses the top of your head.

And it’s Shouta who is with you, when you return from training, and open the door to your apartment to reveal a scruffy, mangy looking grey kitten that wasn’t there when you left.

Ryuji chirps happily at you, rushing to the open door.

For a moment, you’re so shocked that all you can do is stand, startled, as he rubs himself against your legs.

“Don’t tell me you found another stray–” Shouta starts, but all you get out is a small, choked noise.

And here is the impact from the fall, you think, looking at that little cat that is excitedly winding itself around your legs. You can feel the shattering of your heart, like he’d lobbed it against the wall. You wonder if it catches light the same way glass does, all stained with color and broken into shards.

You drop to the floor with the weight of it all, with the clean splitting of your heart.

The moment Ryuji climbs into your lap, a sob finally ruptures out of you.

Shouta is fast, coming down beside you, you think he’s asking what’s wrong, why you’re crying, but you’ve already gathered the kitten into your arms, cradling him to your chest as the tears come quick and furious down your cheeks.

You think maybe you should be more concerned as to how he got Ryuji here, in U.A. dorms, you should be worried about security and safety but all you’re thinking about is that little apartment that you hid from the world with him in.

No, all you’re thinking about is the way light fell through the lone window to turn him hazy and soft in your memory. You’re thinking about how he never denied you affection, so long as you gave it tenfold in turn. The drawl of his voice. The pressing of his fingers into your skin like you were a miracle.

To him, you were.

Another sob spills out of you, from somewhere deep inside you.

What a lonely life, to only be able to touch one person in certainty. You wonder who will be the next person that will lay their hands gently on a body that has known too much pain. You wonder if you will be the last person to do it.

The thought hurts, opens up a part of you that is tender and shaking and desperately furious.

When Shouta can’t figure out what’s wrong with you or why you’re crying, he gives up, and sits on the floor with you. He gathers you into his lap so your back is pressed to his chest, pushing your head beneath his chin, Ryuji still cradled in your arms.

You cry harder when Shouta tries to comfort you, when he hushes softly, so sweetly, only because you don’t think there’s anyone to comfort Tomura like this.

You think of Tomura alone, even without Ryuji and it just–

Crushes you.

You squeeze the kitten tighter to your chest as you cry and cry and cry. You let Shouta hold you against him, but there’s no comfort in the aching hollowness that is growing in the pit of your chest.

You want to scream at the world that tossed the coin.

But all that comes out is a garbled, misery struck, cry.

You never told him you loved him, never gave word to what consumed you. And you realize, sitting on the floor with a kitten in your arms, that you won’t ever be able to tell him now.

It will live and die inside of you, never spoken into existence.

And even though it’s too late and Tomura Shigaraki is readying for a battle with a giant without you at his side, you still whisper the words you never got to speak into the top of Ryuji’s head.

Your lips barely move with it, the quietest, most desperate, “I love you– I loved you.” that escapes you with a trembling breath.

Shouta doesn’t even hear the confession.

Ryuji nudges your cheek with his, though, purring softly, keeping your secret safe.

And in the least, you are able to twist into Shouta’s arms and bury your face in his chest to cry as hard as you need. There’s no distance between the two of you now, like you always wanted.

Always here when you need him, even now, when it’s not him you want.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

You mumble incoherent apologies into his shoulder, try to hide in him, like he might be able to shield you from all the hurt and ache of your first love. He doesn’t ask, but he tells you very gently, his voice like the hearth of your home, “If you ever want to talk, I’ll always be there for you.”

You keep Ryuji, clean him up, fit him with a new collar, a new life. Shouta helps you care for him.

Eri adores the kitten, hugging him to her smiling face every time she sees him. Thankfully Ryuji is even-tempered, eager for affection. Almost desperate for it.

Ryuji is like proof of another world, proof that it all happened.

Sometimes you rub between his ears and ask, “Do you miss it, too?” but all he does is peer at you inquisitively, eyes large and fixed on you.

You sleep with him, though, let the kitten curl up in your lonesome arms, hold tight to him the way you used to hold tight to Tomura.

***

In the middle of the night, your phone wakes you with its insistent chime and buzzing. You blink awake sleepily, slowly and blindly paw for your phone.

You turn the screen towards you and squint at the bright light, making out the word that flashes on it;

Unknown Caller.

You grimace, rubbing at your eyes. You debate putting your phone down, letting it ring and go to voicemail. Why should you answer for an unknown caller in the middle of the night?

And yet, something in you squirms, urges you to pick up. You have no idea who it might be— maybe someone needs your help. Is it possible it’s Shouta? Shinsou? What if it’s—

You answer finally, groggy voice slurring out, “Hello?”

You’re met with static.

“Hello?” you say again, voice hushed with sleep.

Still nothing.

Tomura sits on the other side, with the phone pressed desperately to his ear. He holds everything inside of him, barely allows himself to breathe on the other end.

He doesn’t know why he’s done this, only that he is on his way to proving himself with the League and he wishes you were still at his side.

He swallows, hears you call again, “Hello? Anyone there?”

He tightens his four-finger grip on the phone, squeezing his eyes shut at the sound of your voice, sleepy and soft in his ear, wrapping around the jagged parts of his heart.

He exhales and you must hear it because you say, “Is someone there?”

He bites back an answer, feels his lip tremble slightly.

He hears you huff, indignant little thing that you are and his lips pull into a shaky, painful smile. “I’m going to hang up now,” you say, all prickly, the way you’d get if he woke you too soon.

He used to soothe you with lips and teeth and tongue, run diligent fingers over you until you were sighing and arching into his touch. Until all your hard, vicious edges softened with the flattening of his palm on your body.

And for some reason you try, one last time into coaxing him to answer, “C’mon,” you say, almost like you know, “Nothing?”

Nothing, he wants to echo, but doesn’t.

His heart pounds an uneasy rhythm, a haunted tempo. He feels himself shaking again.

“Okay,” you exhale, slow, like you’re giving him a chance to stop you, “Goodbye.”

A beat passes, before he feels his heart lurch painfully in the hollow place of his chest at the thought of not hearing your voice again like this, so near. He doesn’t want you to go, wants to listen to you until it coaxes him to sleep.

“Wait– don’t hang up–“ Tomura hisses into the phone at the last moment, unable to decide if he wants you to hear him or not.

He gets his answer in the buzzing silence, long and drawn out, that fills his head. His heart.

And he sits there with his phone still in hand and his heart still on the line.

***

Tomura shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be watching you from afar, in the park that he thought you’d looked like a painting in. You’re beautiful.

But what does someone like him know about beauty, anyways?

The fireburst leaves are nearly gone, barely clinging to lone and stark branches. They claw up into the sky now, but the sun is shining. It’s mid-morning. You’re in the park with your mentor, with the violet haired boy he’d seen you with before, and the little girl with silver hair. The one that was in Overhaul’s care, with the devastating Quirk.

She tugs excitedly at your sleeve now and you give her your undivided attention, your face lighting up with whatever it is she tells you.

You scoop her into your arms and her echoing giggle is like wind chimes, melodic and childish and care-free.

You look happy, he thinks, with your mentor’s hand on the small of your back, looking down at you and the girl fondly. The violet-haired boy says something that makes the girl laugh, it makes you smile as you watch her.

You look back at your mentor with a look that Tomura has come to know; one that begs of attention and approval and affection. He can see the desperate glint to your eyes, hungry for his love.

He swallows around the sharp bitterness he feels. Jealousy floods him in a way he has never fully known. But it’s more than just jealousy for you and your attention, for the way you’re looking at your mentor.

No, it’s something greater, far worse.

He’s jealous of your mentor, with the easy way he gets to touch and look at you out in public. But he’s also jealous of you and your life.

He doesn’t realize it at first, but he’s begun to shake.

Because you were saved– isn’t that it? You were saved. And he wasn’t.

Maybe he’s jealous of the boy with you, too, with the possibility of his life so much brighter already. He has more of a chance than Tomura ever had.

Or maybe it’s the girl in your arms, with eyes like his, who he is most jealous of now. He has never allowed himself to ask;

Why couldn’t it be me?

But now he does and he can feel the pit in his chest grow with a livid sort of despair. Grief for a life never lived. Didn’t he deserve to be saved, too? Like the girl in your arms? Like you? Didn’t he deserve a life like this, too? What’s the difference? He wants to demand it, what’s the difference?

You were just a kid, you know?

His fingers dig into his neck. There is no one to stop him from breaking skin, for drawing blood on his own body. His chest festers, angry, like a blister. His stomach turns, his body trembling harder, like he’s a child, like he’s going to shake apart.

He looks at your smiling face, the curve of your lips, and wants you so bad it hurts. He wonders if you ever dreamt of him as a hero, the way he dreams of you as a villain. He wonders why it feels so unfair suddenly, the turning of your lives, the coming together and falling apart.

He shudders, feels the sudden lump in his throat. He tried not to mourn you, when you left him. He told himself that there was nothing to mourn; either you would be back or you weren’t worth it. He feels the pressure of tears now, though, much to his frustration. He feels his lungs burn for breath as he watches you hand the little girl off to your mentor, who props her onto his hip easily.

He watches you throw your head back and laugh, the sound of it distant, but he catches it, the outskirts of it. He used to feel that laugh against his throat, against his lips.

But now he watches you live a life he apparently never deserved.

His bottom lip trembles, a furious scowl marring his face.

He could scream or shout at a world that wouldn’t listen. The fact of it all, the helplessness of it all, burns beneath his skin like wildfire, like acid.

Tomura takes one last look at you; the expressive glimmer of your eyes, the flash of your teeth. He lingers on you, commits you to memory as if he could ever forget you. Maybe someday he will. Maybe he won’t have to, if you come back to him.

But he won’t wait on it, in an apartment that still has traces of you in it’s corners and crevices. No, he has more to do, bigger than him. Bigger than you.

Even if the horrible tempo of his heart begs differently, even if the shaking in his shoulders is an indication otherwise.

One last look of you– you’re talking, saying something with your hands. The little girl laughs again, her red eyes crinkling up happily.

Tomura turns away.

He walks a familiar path to the apartment, the wind tries to slice through his jacket, kicks up leaves and litter in shadowed alleyways.

He enters and there is no one trailing behind him, your hands twisted into the back of his hoodie, or his sleeves. It’s quiet. Empty. He surveys it once, the bed with unmade sheets. The window that let in beams of colored light, that Ryuji would sit at.

And then he sets his hands on the wall, all ten of his fingers down, the way he used to touch you.

The wall begins to decay, cracks and crumbles beneath his hands. It spreads, and spreads, and spreads like a disease filling out the body of the apartment. Dust begins to fall like early snow.

His heart squeezes painfully, his eyes suddenly flooding with pressure, with tears he tries to keep back. His head throbs, feels like it’s going to cleave apart. His ribs ache– hurt so bad it’s like he can feel the one you took from him, the gaping part of his chest.

His Quirk flares hard and hot and fast. It burns through him, floods his veins in a way that makes him cry out, suddenly shaking, suddenly pained.

He destroys the apartment, disintegrates the tiny world he created with you that existed outside of the real one. He unpauses the game. He takes apart what the world should’ve been, when he was here, with you. He sees now that a world like this cannot exist.

The peace, the ideal, the way you had understood him. Your unending compassion. It’s rare. Not enough to save the rest of them.

So he tears it all apart, pushes at his Quirk in a way he hasn’t been able to before, nudges at its strength to test it. It flares outward, eating away at the entire space, at the furniture, at the floor. Everywhere.

He seethes, blooming, finally allowing that livid and vicious thing inside of him to burst forward. It’s explosive, wrenching out of him in the form of terrible destruction.

He’ll grow into what he was supposed to–

I wanted to be a hero– when I was a kid.

The only option he ever really had, the hand extended to him a villain’s, gentle when he’d taken it.

He destroys the boy inside him, the one that was naive and hopeful and weak. He let’s that boy inside of him fall apart, split open and leaks gore before turning to dust, too. He kills the part of him that he had only ever shared with you, in the blue-dark of night, when you were lulled to sleep with just the sound of his heart.

He swallows down his anguish and his jealousy and his bitterness, keeps it safe inside him, like All For One always said to do. He’ll nourish it, let it grow, fester inside of him until the only thing it can do is explode out of him to tear the world apart, too.

When he’s standing in the rubble of the tiny world you’d made with him, the apartment complex demolished, the people inside gone, he knows what he has to do.

And he has so much work to do in order to achieve it.

He tries to forget you, to destroy your memory, too. He will not carry the weight of you around inside him.

(But in his dreams, you sit cross-legged in front of him, serene and beautiful, like a painting he knows nothing about.

In his dreams, you ask for his hands to have, and he gives you them to hold.)

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Ask the Stars [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Find my masterlist here. Requests are Open.

Requested: Yes l No

A/N: I’ve had this idea floating around for a while and finally decided to write it and it flowed liked nobodies business! I LOVED writing this so I hope you enjoy reading it. Special thanks to the angel @dreatine who gave me the title for this fic and showing me the beautiful song the title is from (lyrics for which can be found throughout). Set pre-BAU.

CW: swearing, drinking, mutual pining, friends to lovers, age gap between consenting adults, virgin! Spencer, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, groping. I think that’s everything!

Plot: growing up together, best friends Spencer and the reader have always been secretly in love with one another. But a night together under the stars might be too little too late and with Spencer moving to DC and you to Idaho, that one night may be all you ever get.

WC: 12.2K

—————————————————————

Ask the stars up in the sky,

Ask the stars they’ll tell you why.

Stars know ev’ry little thing you do,

There’s a little star that’s watching you.

Ask the stars when you’re with me,

Ask the stars then watch and see.

Las Vegas, Nevada - 2003

Spencer didn’t think he would have made it through the last ten years of his life and been where he was now if it hadn't been for the family next door.

He was just twelve years old when they’d moved in, struggling to cope with high school bullies and his mom's schizophrenia all on his own.

They would help out with his mom in any way they could, they had him round for dinner when it was too tough for him to go home and they took him along on their annual camping trips every year.

They had been there for him when he’d had to have his mom committed when he was eighteen. They were kind, friendly people. They treated Spencer like their own son.

He liked to pretend when he was with them that they were his family. He liked to play pretend, that he had a loving father and a mom who wasn’t sick.

He lived in a fantasy world whenever he was with them.

But Spencer’s favourite part about the family next door by far, was their daughter, Y/N.

You were four years Spencer’s junior, just an adorable eight year old when you’d moved in next door to the young genius and his mother. The two of you had grown up together and somewhere along the way attraction and feelings developed.

Of course neither one of you had ever said as much. You were best friends, you didn’t want to risk destroying that by confessing your feelings for him.

And besides, at the end of the summer the two of you were going your separate ways; you were off to college in Idaho and Spencer was moving to DC for his illustrious new job at the FBI.

This was the last chance the two of you had to spend time together before everything inevitably changed. So maybe going on a camping trip with your parents at eighteen was a little lame. But there was one reason and one reason alone you were going on the trip.

Spencer Reid.

***

Just as you were lugging the last of your bags out of the front door, you heard the front gate creak open.

Your eyes shot up and landed instantly on his as he slipped through the gate.

You immediately dropped the bag on the floor and were dashing down the front steps and down the path.

“Spence!” You squealed, running at him at speed.

He caught you in his arms and the two of you almost went tumbling back to the concrete but he managed to steady you both.

“Whoa Y/N,” he laughed, wrapping you tightly in his arms. “I missed you too.”

You clung to your best friend, breathing in his scent. He’d only been gone two months finishing up his third PhD, but it felt like forever.

The last few years Spencer’s studies had taken him away from Vegas much more than you would have both liked. He’d missed the last two family camping trips and they had been so dull without him.

You were so happy to have him back for one last trip.

“It’s so good to see you.” You smiled, pulling back from the hug to get a proper look at him. Of course over the years you’d memorised every sculpted curve of his face, those sharp cheekbones, deep set eyes and sinfully plump lips but you would never tire of looking at him.

“Y/N, Spencer, it’s time to go!” Your mom hollered from the street, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Give me a hand with my bag?”

“Of course.” He smiled, following up the path to the house.

You felt lighter when Spencer was around, like all of your worries and fears just melted away.

You had no idea how you would cope with him in DC while you were in Idaho. But that was a problem for another day.

For now you were just revelling in Spencer’s presence.

***

Admittedly camping with your parents was never a terrible experience. Your dad was the outdoorsy type, your mom was not. So they compromised.

Yes you were in the woods but your mom would not allow sleeping in rustic tents. Every year she booked up the most glamorous of tents for your stays. Wood flooring, real beds, even nightstands and lamps.

So technically you were sleeping in a tent, but it was just as comfortable, if not more so than your bedroom at home. The site was equipped with showers and real toilets. It wasn’t really like camping at all.

“Oh Spencer sweetie,” your mom called to him as you were unpacking the car several hours of driving later.

“Yes?” He looked up at her with a smile.

“Did Y/N tell you, we weren’t able to book three pods this year, I must have called late. I hope it’s ok for the two of you to share?”

Wow. Your mom was a better liar than you pegged her to be.

Even your dad seemed to fall for it.

When she’d told you a few days ago, you’d seen right through it.

You knew your mom had known for a long time of your crush on your genius neighbour. She’d probably known before even you did.

So you didn’t question it when she’d told you she’d only been able to book two camping pods, but you were sure your blush gave away exactly what you thought about it.

“Uhm yeah I guess that’s fine.” He shrugged and was that a blush you saw spreading to his cheeks? “I’ve got my sleeping bag, I can just sleep on the floor.”

Not if I have anything to do with it, you thought but his response seemed to appease your father.

Once Spencer went back to emptying the bags from the car your mom gave you a look and a small smirk.

You tried not to blush. Your mom had always been pretty cool for a mom and you had never been more grateful for that until right now.

You finished unpacking the car and took your stuff to your allocated tent to change before heading down to the lake.

Spencer took some clothes to the toilets to change and you spent longer than was necessary picking out the perfect bathing suit.

The last time Spencer had seen you in a bathing suit was two years ago and boy had your body changed in two years. You couldn’t wait to show it off to him.

You just hoped he liked what he saw.

***

Thankfully Spencer had already dived into the water before you took off your summer dress and unsheathed the glorious body you were hiding underneath the fabric.

The water made for a great way to hide the erection that almost immediately grew when he saw you in that bathing suit.

He tried not to look at you, mostly because your parents were there and he was sure they wouldn’t be happy with him gawking over their daughter.

But he was in essence, a cold blooded male. He’d had a crush on you for about as long as he could remember, you’d grown up together, surely it was only inevitable?

But you were his best friend. You were the only real friend he’d ever had. And he didn’t want to ruin that by sexualising you. But god that would be so much easier to do if you weren’t so damn hot.

When had you stopped being the adorable girl next door who used to play with her pony toys in the front yard? When did you become this drop dead gorgeous woman standing before him in a scantily clad bathing suit?

You had changed since the last time he’d seen you in so little clothes. You’d developed curves in what Spencer thought was all the right places.

You looked up and your eyes met his and you gave him a bright smile that made him feel a little weak. You walked to the edge of the lake and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

You walked with poise, a sense of a confidence Spencer could never muster. He watched as you dove into the water so gracefully, and re-emerge a few feet in front of him.

You pushed your wet hair off your face and waded closer to him, wiping the water from your eyes.

Spencer felt a lump forming in his throat the closer you got. His eyes betrayed him and they fell to your chest, the water droplets rolling over your skin shimmered in the sun.

How I want to lick those beads of water off your skin.

“You ok?” You laughed, coming to a stop in front of him.

“M-me? Y-yes why wouldn’t I b-be.” He stuttered at the close proximity he now found himself in to you. He could reach out and touch you. He could reach out and kiss you.

He did neither.

“Come here,” he raised your hands out of the water. “Your hair is going to get in your eyes.”

You gently stroked a strand of Spencer’s wet hair out of his face and it sent a shiver racing up his spine.

His cock was aching. He’d never been touched by a woman in such a way. He’d never been touched by a woman in any way and honestly it felt like he could blow his load just from you stroking back his hair.

“Much better.” You smiled at him, leaving him feeling a little downtrodden when you withdrew your hand.

“Uh thanks.” He croaked, feeling light headed.

“You’re welcome.”

For a moment the two of you stared at each other, eyes locked as though communicating subconsciously.

Spencer wanted to grab hold of you and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to pull you close and feel your body pressed up against his own, run his fingers over your every curve.

He wanted his hands to get lost in your hair. He wanted to bury himself between your thighs. He wanted to feel you, to taste you.

Honestly you were thinking the same, he just didn’t know it. His white t-shirt cling to his skin now soaked in water and you could just make out the soft skin of his chest underneath. You wanted to run your hands over that skin, through his hair, over every part of his body.

You wanted to feel him inside of you, his fingers, his cock, anything. You wanted to stare deep into his eyes while he made you come.

All of a sudden Spencer snapped out of his trance before he did something to make a fool of himself.

“I’ll race you to the next dock!” He dove beneath the surface before you had time to register his words.

You watched him go, splashing a lot as he swam, gangly limbs flailing.

It took you a few seconds to pick your mind up out of the gutter and start swimming after him.

Being the much more adept swimmer, despite Spencer’s head start you managed to beat him to the next dock.

He was much more out of breath than you when he arrived.

“How did you get into the FBI again?” You laughed as he gripped hold of the dock for dear life.

“They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field.” He panted.

“Clearly.” You teased. “Ohh and look, we’re right by the jet ski hire!” You pulled yourself up on the dock and sat on the edge looking down at Spencer.

“You know I hate those things. Did you know there are around seven hundred jet ski related accidents every year which results in approximately forty deaths? I don’t like those odds, I’ll wait on the dock.”

He tried and failed to get out of the water and in the end you had to help hoist him up.

“No way, you're coming with me.” You stood up and pulled him to his feet as well.

“I most certainly am not.” He made the mistake of looking into your eyes. Those beautiful expressive eyes that could probably make him commit murder.

“Please?” You asked softly and he was like putty in your hands.

“F-fine.” He grumbled.

“Yay!” You squealed a little, throwing yourself into his arms.

Your body pressed up against his and he tentatively wrapped his arms around you.

Your wet bathing suit and his wet t-shirt clung to each other and he could feel your every curve.

Thankfully you pulled away before he got too excited. You took hold of his hand now and started leading him towards the hire booth.

Honestly he’d let you lead him anywhere.

***

Spencer was still shaking almost ten minutes after pulling up in the small alcove a way up the lake and dismounting the jet ski.

He’d enjoyed the close proximity with you it had involved but it didn’t make up for the sheer terror of your haphazard driving.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You laughed staring down at him as he laid on the grass.

“All I’ll say is, if you drove a car like that I would never let you drive me anywhere.”

“It’s a jet ski Einstein, they are supposed to go fast.” You nudged his ribs with your toe. “Get up, we need to head back.”

“I would literally rather swim back.” He groaned.

You rolled your eyes, nudging his ribs again.

“It’s probably almost a mile back, don’t be so dramatic.” You leant over him and took hold of his hands, pulling him into a sitting position. “How about you drive? That way we can go at a granny pace.”

“Funny.” He grumbled, getting to his feet. “But I will drive actually. I’d rather not die of a heart attack on this lake.”

You slid the rubber band over your hand that the key dangled from and tossed it at Spencer.

He flapped about trying to catch it and just managed to stop it falling to the floor.

You got in your positions on the jet ski. You wrapped yourself tighter around him than was necessary, your arms snaking around his waist and resting on his stomach.

Spencer shuddered but he hoped you would think it was due to the wind.

It could have been the wind but the timing seemed a little too convenient. Did your touch really have that effect on him? He’d never given you any indication that he liked you in that way, but could it be possible? Maybe you would have to test that out.

Spencer took a tentative breath and started the jet ski’s engine. You tightened your hold on him as it started moving.

Spencer was slow to start with just like you had assumed he would be. It was quite nice actually. You had a chance to revel in the way the water felt as it splashed onto your bare legs, the way the wind felt in your hair.

But mostly you were wrapped up in the way it felt to be this close to Spencer.

You pressed your chest into your back, making sure he could feel your breasts on him. You started by gently moving your fingers over the fabric of his t-shirt, round in little circles on his stomach.

As he picked up the speed a little you dared to let your fingers drop a little lower, over his hip bones. You felt him tense a little but due to the sound of the jet ski you didn’t hear the way his breath hitched at your touch.

You moved your hands again, your fingers gently grazing the waistband of his swim shorts.

Spencer practically jumped at your touch so near his crotch and he inadvertently swerved sharply, so sharply that it sent the two of you flying off the seat and crashing into the water.

The engine cut off when the key attached around Spencer’s wrist was yanked out with him.

You both broke the surface, spluttering a little.

“What the hell Spencer?” you pushed your hair back off your face. “Why did you do that?”

Because you have no idea how long I have wanted you to touch me like that.

“You uh...your...I don’t know. I just lost control I guess.” he didn’t want to tell you that your touch had sent him into a tailspin and he had completely lost his focus.

But you had a pretty good idea that was what had happened. And if that was the case, why? Why had your touch affected him in that way? Surely he did not feel for you the way you felt about him?

It couldn’t be possible. But it surely did seem that way.

“I’ll drive the rest of the way.” you told him, rather than pushing him. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

But you might have to test this more, maybe on stable ground.

You both climbed back up onto the jet ski, Spencer slightly less gracefully than you, and he handed you over the key.

You made it back to the jet ski hire with no further incident and Spencer was happy to be back on dry land. Although he did miss the closeness the jet ski brought.

“I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back ok?” Spencer told you while you returned your life vests.

“Sure, I’ll be here.” you gave him a soft smile.

He couldn’t help but give your body a once over again, it was accidental, he couldn’t stop himself. The feeling of your fingers on his waistband and your chest pressed up against his back were imprinted in his mind and by the time he reached the bathroom he was hard again.

Making sure there was no one else in the bathroom he shut himself in one of the cubicles. He leant against the closed door and exhaled a shaky breath.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had touched himself while thinking of you but this seemed dirty. This wasn’t the comfort of his own bedroom where no one would catch him.

But he knew he needed to take care of this otherwise it would plague him all day.

With another shaky breath he relieved himself from his swim shorts. He closed his eyes, taking his length in his hand and started stroking himself. He bit his lip hard to stem his moans as he pictured you in that sinful bathing suit.

He imagined your fingers moving from his waistband inside his pants and tried to imagine it was your fingers wrapped around him.

He was panting and mumbling your name in no time and it didn’t take long at all for him to come.

He cleaned himself up as well as the tiled floor he had dirtied before using the facilities and heading back outside.

God he hoped you wouldn’t see his deed written all over his face, he would be mortified.

But by the looks of it, you were too busy to notice anything.

The guy putting the moves on you was shorter than Spencer but much more broad and muscular. He had sun kissed skin and beach blonde hair. He had a charming smile and it was clearly working its magic on you.

Spencer approached slowly, you didn’t seem to notice. As he reached your side the man looked over at him with a frown.

“Can we help you?” he asked Spencer.

“Spence, hi.” you smiled at him before turning all your attention back on the other man. “Greg, this is my best friend Spencer. Spencer, this is Greg.”

Best friend, of course, because that’s how you saw him. Friends. Only ever friends.

You hadn’t had any intention of talking to someone while Spencer was gone but when Greg had approached you, you engaged in friendly conversation.

He was attractive, sure, but in your eyes he had nothing on Spencer.

But there was something in Spencer’s eyes that looked a lot like jealousy. Maybe you could use Greg to your advantage?

“Greg invited us to a party at the lake tonight.” you spoke when neither man said anything.

“I actually invited you to a party.” Greg corrected you.

“Oh.” Spencer squeaked a little.

“I’m only coming if Spencer does.” You told Greg with a seductive smile.

Greg smiled at you and stepped a little closer.

“How can I say no to a face like yours.” He ran his finger over your cheek and Spencer wanted to smack him. “I’ll see you tonight babe.” He winked at you before sauntering away.

“He seems like a complete jackass.” Spencer grumbled once Greg was out of ear shot.

“You didn’t even speak to him.” You frowned at your friend.

“Neither did you, not really. I was only gone five minutes. I don’t think we should go to that party.”

“And why not?” You folded your arms over your chest.

“Because we don’t know him. He could be some creep for all we know.”

“I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you.” You stepped closer to Spencer making him swallow. “Are you jealous Spencer?”

“W-what?” He croaked. “Jealous? W-why would I be j-jealous?”

It was written all over his face. He was jealous.

“I don’t know Spence, you tell me.” You stepped even closer to him now, so close he could feel your breath on his face.

You let your hands drop to your side.

“Do you want me for yourself Spencer? Because you know all you’d have to do is ask.”

Good god, what are you doing to me?

Of course he wanted you all to himself, it’s all he’d ever wanted. But that didn’t change the fact you were his best friend and you were moving to different states.

Telling you he wanted you was completely pointless.

“Of course not.” He tried to scoff, forcing himself to step back away from you. “If you want Greg that’s fine by me.”

“Fine.” You spat.

“Fine.” Spencer mirrored.

And with that you turned on your heels and stormed away.

Maybe you’d been wrong after all. Of course Spencer didn’t like you. What a stupid thought that had been.

***

That night your dad allowed you and a very reluctant Spencer to use his car to head back to the lake and meet Greg and his friends.

You and Spencer hadn’t said much of anything to each other since that afternoon but if your parents had noticed they didn’t say anything.

You felt foolish for thinking he could have possibly been jealous. Of course there was no way the brilliant Spencer Reid looked at you that way. There was no way he would deem you smart enough or interesting enough.

It had clearly all been in your head. Or so you thought.

But of course it hadn’t.

Spencer had wanted to scream at you that of course he was jealous and of course he wanted you all to himself, but he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. There was no way he was confessing his feelings for you. He’d done a good job of keeping them hidden up until now and he certainly wasn’t going to let Greg be the reason he told you.

He would take his feelings for you to the grave. It was easier that way. It was easier than ruining your friendship.

You drove to the lake in stifled silence. Normally small talk wasn’t an issue for the two of you, you could talk about anything and everything for hours on end. But for the first time, neither of you had anything to say to one another.

Thankfully it wasn’t a long drive to the lake and you pulled up soon enough and exited the car as soon as you shut off the engine.

Spencer sighed loudly once alone in the car. This was the last time the two of you would be together in god knows how long and you were in a fight already on the first day of the trip.

He didn’t think the two of you had ever fought, not properly anyway. Was this a fight? Spencer wasn’t even sure. He hoped not. He spent a few minutes alone in the car just collecting himself.

He got out of the car and followed in your footsteps. You were already down by a bonfire near the lake edge with none other than Greg. Greg had his arm around your shoulders as he handed you a bottle of beer which you took with a smile.

Spencer took a deep breath before heading towards you. He really didn’t want to be a third wheel with the two of you but he also didn’t have the kind of confidence it took to go and talk to new people.

Third wheel it is.

“Hi,” you barely acknowledged him as he joined you and Greg and if Spencer wasn’t mistaken you moved your body closer to Greg.

He gave you a half-smile and nodded in Greg’s direction.

“Can I get you a beer?” Greg asked him.

“No thanks. One of us is going to have to drive back and looks like that’s going to be me.” Spencer shrugged, trying not to sound annoyed but he clearly did because he saw you roll your eyes.

“Want to take a walk Greg?” you smiled at the other man who gave your shoulders a squeeze as he eyed you up and down.

“I would love that.” he chuckled and before Spencer knew it he was leading you away from him.

It had been all of two minutes and you had already abandoned him. Great.

He turned away from the lake and started back up towards the car assuming he would just wait for you there while you were off doing god knows what with Greg.

He made his way towards the car but didn’t get very far before someone ran into him, knocking him to the floor.

“Ow.” he groaned as he hit the ground, someone landing roughly on top of him.

“Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry!” she pushed herself off of him, standing up before holding out a hand to help him.

Spencer took it and allowed the stranger to pull him to his feet.

“I was chasing after a frisbee and I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you ok?” she was smiling sweetly at him and Spencer couldn’t help but think it was a very pretty smile.

Maybe not as pretty as yours but pretty in its own right.

“It’s ok.” he told her, shaking it off. “These things happen. I’m uh...I’m Spencer.”

She smiled again and nodded.

“Rose.” she replied. “Would you care to join me for a drink Spencer?”

“You know what?” Spencer smiled. “I don’t mind if I do.”

***

You and Greg had walked further up the lake and found a spot near the water's edge to sit. It didn’t take long before his lips were on yours and his fingers were in your hair.

It was...nice. It was nothing special but it was ok. And you couldn’t help but wish it was Spencer’s lips pressed against your own.

When Greg’s hands moved from your hair down to your breasts, palming them through your top a little roughly, you pushed him back.

“Nuh uh.” you shook your head frowning at him. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh come on babe, we’re just having a little fun.”

“We can have fun without you groping me.” you picked up your beer bottle and swigged from it.

“I didn’t peg you as a prude Y/N.” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Because I’m not. I prefer the term selective.” you scoffed.

He didn’t take your reluctance as a no however and he moved in again, his lips latching on to your neck and his hand finding your thigh.

He moved his hand higher up your bare leg, over your denim shorts and soon his fingers were toying with the button.

Once again you pushed him, harder than before.

“Hey asshole.” you spat. “I said no.”

He rolled his eyes, picking up his own beer, downing the contents and then tossing it away.

“You’re a drag.” he groaned. “Is this because of that pipe cleaner friend of yours?”

“No.” you pushed yourself up from the ground, grabbing your beer. “This has nothing to do with Spencer. I just don’t like pushy men who think they’re god's gift to women.”

You turned away from him and started back towards the bonfire you could see burning brightly in the distance.

“Girls like you are a dime a dozen.” he called after you.

You flipped him the bird over your shoulder but you didn’t turn back to look at him.

“Asshole.” you muttered to yourself.

You should have listened to Spencer, he’d always been a good judge of character. Maybe you’d have to apologise to him.

You made your way back to the bonfire to find him and make up but you didn’t have to look far.

He was sitting on one of the logs next to the fire but he wasn’t alone.

He had a petite redhead sitting in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck. And her lips were hungrily exploring his.

“Oh god.” you felt like you’d just been kicked in the chest, like all the air had been forced from your lungs.

You lost your grip on the beer bottle and it fell to the ground.

His hands were gently on her hips, holding her place while he explored her mouth.

Your tears came out of nowhere, alarming you as they started heavily cascading down your cheeks.

Just as a sob wracked your body, you took off running up the bank and towards the car.

You couldn’t watch anymore. Seeing Spencer kiss that girl made your heart feel like it was shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.

You got back in the car and sobbed. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Spencer and that girl, locking lips.

And all you could think was, it should be me.

***

“Sorry if that was really forward of me.” Rose blushed a little when the kiss ended.

Spencer was blushing too, but he had been since their lips first touched.

“I-it’s o-ok.” he stuttered, completely baffled by what had just happened. “I-it was n-nice.”

“I hope it was a little more than nice.” Rose giggled.

But it wasn’t. It was simply nice. It was a nice kiss but it wasn’t with you. He’d kissed girls before but it never felt quite right. And he knew it was because he wasn’t kissing you.

He didn’t speak, he couldn’t find the right words to say.

Rose’s face fell a little and she slid off Spencer’s lap onto the log next to him.

“I know that look.” she chewed her lip. “That’s the look of a guy who is thinking about someone else.”

He wanted to argue with her but it seemed pointless.

“I’m sorry.” He shrugged pathetically. “You’re beautiful and you have no idea how much I wish I wasn’t thinking about someone else. But I am. I always am.”

“It’s ok.” She placed her hand gently on his knee. “It was nice to meet you Spencer.” She pushed herself up from the log.

“You too Rose.” He stood too, needing to find you before you did anything stupid with Greg.

Just as he had this thought, Greg came wandering towards the bonfire alone.

“Where’s Y/N?” Spencer rushed over to him.

“How should I know?” Greg scoffed. “That girl is a cock tease. Not worth my time.”

“Don’t say that.” Spencer practically whined, making Greg chuckle.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Greg snarled at him.

“I uh...I need to find Y/N.” He changed the subject. He did not want to get into a fight because he would most certainly lose.

“Whatever.” Greg scoffed, turning away from Spencer.

Spencer scanned the crowds but couldn’t see you, he knew he’d be able to pick you out of any crowd.

He practically sprinted back to the car, hoping to find you there and as luck would have it, there you were in the driver's seat.

But even in the dark he could see that you were crying.

He ran to the passenger door and flung it open.

“Oh my god Y/N, what’s wrong?” He threw his arms around you, pulling you closer over the console.

“Get off me.” You pushed him away, sniffing back your tears.

“What’s wrong? What did Greg do?” He asked clearly not noticing your hostility towards him.

You sighed, not wanting to tell your best friend you were crying over seeing him kiss another girl, you shook your head, fixing your seatbelt in place.

“Nothing. I just want to forget all about tonight.” You started the engine.

“O-ok.” Spencer chewed his lip.

Neither of you spoke again on the drive back to the campsite or once you were back in your pod.

You slipped into the bed and Spencer in his sleeping bag on the floor.

Neither of you got much sleep that night, you both had too much on your mind. Namely, being in love with your best friends who were seemingly oblivious.

***

The next morning when you awoke you decided today was a new day. You weren’t going to allow yourself to spend the whole trip being mad at Spencer.

You’d never seen him with a girl before, it had been a shock. But he was twenty two, he must have had girlfriends before you guess he’d just chosen not to tell you. And it wasn’t as though you’d never been with a man.

You resided yourself to the fact that you and Spencer were destined to be friends and that was ok. At least it would be ok. It had to be.

You knelt down on the floor next to his sleeping bag and watched him for a second. He was sound asleep, his breathing soft and even. His plump lips were parted ever so slightly and his hair was draped over the pillow. His eyelashes grazed the skins under his eyes.

Maybe it would be a little harder than you thought to just see him as a friend.

Suddenly his eyes fluttered open and landed on you.

He frowned a little, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“Uh...good morning.” He croaked, voice riddled with sleep. “Were you staring at me while I slept?”

“No.” You scoffed, standing back up. “I was just wondering if I could free your hand and put it in a glass of water, see if that peeing thing really works.” You started rummaging through one of your bags to hide your blush from Spencer.

“Mature.” He laughed a little as he sat up. “Hey Y/N, are you ok?”

You took a few deep breaths and turned back to him with a large, fake smile on your lips.

“I’m great.” You beamed. “Now get up sleepy head, we’re going for a hike!”

And with that you took your clothes and stepped over him, undoing the front of the tent pod and disappearing.

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

He wished falling out of love with you was as easy as it had been falling in love with you.

Not being in love with his best friend would make his life so much easier. But life never was good to Spencer.

***

Spencer loved your family but you were all much more athletic than he could ever hope to be. After a five mile hike, Spencer was exhausted. Sweat made his shirt cling to his body and his hair stick to his forehead.

When your mom had suggested stopping for the picnic she had packed, he was more than happy to oblige.

He practically fell to the grass on his back, panting and sweating.

“If it wasn’t for that huge brain of yours there is no way you would have gotten into the FBI.” you laughed as you flopped down next to him.

“Be nice Y/N.” your mom scalded you to which you rolled your eyes.

Your mom set some food while your dad poured glasses of soda for you all. You spent an hour sitting in the sunshine eating while Spencer worked on getting his breath back.

They still had a five mile walk back.

Spencer found himself stealing glances at you as you ate, like he usually did. He never grew tired of watching you.

You were wearing cargo pants and a vest top. His eyes caressed the side of your neck and the curve of your shoulder and your collarbone. Your skin glistened a little from the heat.

His eyes grazed up to the side of your face and the stray strand of hair that fell onto your face. He wanted to lean in and tuck behind your ear but that seemed too intimate.

He must have been watching you for a long time because when he resurfaced from his thoughts your mom was packing up what was left of the picnic.

“Spence and I will make our way back.” You stood up and brushed down the back of your cargo pants.

“Don’t get lost.” You dad shot you a sarcastic look.

“We’ll be fine. Come on Spence.” You encouraged to which he stood too.

“See you later.” He waved at your parents before following where you had already started walking.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” He asked once he caught up with you.

“No idea.” You shrugged.

“Oh good, just what I want. To get lost in the woods with you.” He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah I’m sure you’d much rather get lost in the woods with that redhead from last night, right?” The bitterness was seeping from your words.

Spencer stopped in his tracks.

“Uh...what redhead?” He tried to lie, he didn’t know what you’d seen so he didn’t want to give away too much.

“Don’t play dumb Spencer.” You stopped too so you could look at him. “The one who was cosied up on your lap, eating your face.”

“Oh. That redhead.” He chewed his lip. “I uh...didn’t realise you saw that.”

“Well I did.” You shrugged. “Looked like you were having fun.”

“It w-was...she was nice I guess.”

“Good.” You spat a little more harshly than you’d meant to.

Spencer frowned, stepping closer to you, leaves crunching under foot.

“Are you annoyed?”

“What? No. Why would I be annoyed?” You scoffed, giving him your best eye roll.

“You seem annoyed.”

“Well I’m not.”

“Good. Because you wouldn’t have any right to be.” It was like he was poking a bear with a stick. He was trying to get a rise out of you.

“And why wouldn’t I?” It was working, you were rising to it.

“Because you left me alone while you went off to do god knows what with Greg. I had to pass the time somehow.”

“By sticking your tongue down some random girl's throat?”

“I’m sure you were doing much more with him.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You growled, stepping closer to him now.

“You know exactly what that means.” He stepped closer to you too, as though you were challenging each other.

“You really think I was off fucking him?” You raised your voice. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Weren’t you?” He shrugged.

“I most certainly was not! He tried to get fresh with me and I pushed him away. He was a jackass! And then I come back to find you making out with that girl!”

“So you are annoyed about that?”

“Yes, happy? Yes I am annoyed about that.” You yelled.

Spencer closed the space between you but you stepped backwards away from him. He backed you into a tree where you collided with the bark.

He put his hands either side of your head pinning you in place.

Where had this side of him come from?

“Why are you annoyed Y/N?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.” You tried to insist but you knew he could see right through you.

“Tell me. Tell me why you’re annoyed with me for Christ sakes Y/N! What did I do that was so wrong? I was just having some fun.”

“Without me.” You pouted.

“I can’t have fun without you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You shook your head, very conscious of how close Spencer was to you.

“So what is it then? Tell me.”

“I don’t like seeing you with another girl ok?” You raised your voice again.

“But I have to see you with another man?”

“I offered myself to you Spencer. I said all you had to do was ask. You said no. What was I supposed to think?”

“Y-you…you meant that?” His facade faltered and his hands fell to his sides.

“Of course I did.” You spat.

“You...you…” he swallowed.

“It should have been me you were kissing. Asshole.” You mumbled pathetically.

Spencer didn’t know what came over him at that moment but he couldn’t hold back.

He took your face in his hands and pushed you back against the tree trunk before pressing his lips to yours.

For a moment you kissed him back but then your anger returned and suddenly you were pushing him away.

“Stop it!” You yelled. “It’s too little too late Spencer. I don’t want to be your second choice. I don’t want you after she’s had you.”

“S-second choice? Y/N you could never be my-“

“Save it.” You pushed passed him and started walking again. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We need to get back before it starts getting dark.”

You didn’t know what had come over you. All you’d ever wanted was to feel Spencer’s lips on yours. But when he kissed you, all you could think of was that redhead from last night.

And it broke your heart all over again.

***

“Spence?” You whispered into the dark. “Spence are you awake?”

It had been a long, awkward walk back followed by a long, awkward evening back at the campsite with your parents.

You and Spencer had said barely two words to each other before you called for an early night and crawled into your bed.

“Yeah I’m awake.” He whispered in reply from the floor.

“I’m...I’m really cold.” You felt foolish but you were freezing, you couldn’t seem to warm up.

And the only thing you could think that would help would be Spencer’s warm body next to you.

You heard him sigh followed by some rustling. Then you saw his silhouette beside the bed.

“You want me to warm you up?” He asked softly.

“If it’s not...too much to ask.” You didn’t deserve him being kind to you but that was the thing about Spencer, he was always there when you needed him. No matter what.

He sighed again before lifting the covers and sliding into the bed.

“Come here.” He held his arm open for you and you slid closer to him, his arm wrapping around your waist and you rested your head on his chest.

As suspected, he was radiating warmth. You snuggled into him sighing in content. He ran his fingers up and down your side.

“I’m sorry about earlier Y/N.” he spoke into your hair.

“Why are you sorry?��

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, not like that. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”

You shifted a little so you could look up at him.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Spence. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I just...I don’t like the way I felt seeing you with that girl.”

“It didn’t feel great for me seeing you with Greg either.” he cupped your face with his free hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, Spence.” a tear escaped your eye. “You’re my best friend and I don’t want to do anything to change that. But I can’t pretend that it didn’t hurt to see you with another girl. And I suppose that means I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship. But I can’t lose my best friend Spence.” a few more tears fell and Spencer tried to wipe them away with his thumb.

“I know Y/N, me too.” He agreed, chewing his lip.

You settled back into his chest and he tightened his hold on you. If this was as close as he could have you then he was going to soak in every moment.

Eventually you both fell asleep, into peaceful slumbers brought on by being wrapped in each other’s embraces.

***

For the rest of the week you and Spencer avoided unnecessary touches and glances each other’s way.

You tried to act normal. You tried to act like you hadn’t kissed and spent the night in each other’s arms.

You knew your parents suspected something was amiss with the two of you, you weren’t quite as pally as you usually were but neither of them said anything.

You spent days at the lake, you went for hikes and sat around the campfire in the evenings as the sunset around you.

On your final night your parents retired to their pod but you remained sitting on one of the logs, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

“Are you coming to bed?” Spencer asked you softly.

“Not yet, I might watch the stars for a while.”

“Want company?” He smiled at you and you nodded.

He laid his own blanket out of the ground and motioned for you to come over.

You laid side by side on your backs and you draped your blanket over the top of you both as you stared up at the sky.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving for DC when we get back.” You sniffed back any tears that might fall. “I have to spend the rest of the summer at home without you.”

“You’ll be off to college in a few weeks. You’ll forget all about me.”

You rolled your head to the side and he did the same so you were looking at each other.

“Spence, I could never forget you.” You reached for his hand and entwined your fingers.

He sighed in content at your touch. It was the most physical contact you’d had in almost a week.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m going to miss you too Spence.”

You laid like that under the stars, just staring into each other’s eyes for some time. There were so many things you both wanted to say but nothing seemed good enough.

Somehow you ended up closer together on the blanket, you’re not sure how it happened. You weren’t sure if you’d moved closer or if Spencer had or maybe you both had, but somehow you ended up with barely a few inches between your faces.

You could feel his soft breath on your face and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his lips. That kiss had burned itself into your brain and you couldn’t believe you’d pushed him away before you got to really enjoy it.

“Spence,” you whispered after a long stretch of silence.

“Yes Y/N?”

“All you have to do is ask.” You repeated what you’d said to him at the lake your first day.

He knew exactly what you meant and it made his chest tighten at the mere thought.

“Y/N?” He whispered, edging even closer to you.

“Yes?”

“Can I...c-can I kiss you?” He stuttered.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t Spence.”

He let go of your hand so he could cup your cheek and slowly closed the small space between you.

This time when your lips met it was slow and soft. You revelled in the feeling of his plump, pillowy lips pressed against yours for a moment before you cautiously parted your lips.

Spencer was tentative in his movements as though you may push him away again at any moment.

But of course you didn’t. He slid his tongue in your mouth and started exploring you, slowly at first but soon an animal instinct took over.

He explored your mouth hungrily, holding your face delicately in his large hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and helped him roll on top of you.

He was hard already, you could feel it pressing against you and you knew a kiss wasn’t going to be enough.

You played with his hair, tugging it a little and he moaned into your mouth, subconsciously grinding his hips into yours.

You dared to let your hands roam his back until you reached the hem of his hoodie and slipped your hands under the fabric.

He moaned again at the feeling of your hands on the skin of his back. It spurred you on to rake your nails lightly over his flesh. You were met with another hard roll of his hips.

The kiss ended so you could both gasp for the air that had left your lungs. Spencer chewed his lip nervously, scared of what might happen next.

“Should w-we uh...do you want to go into t-the tent?” he was so unsure of himself. He didn’t want to sound as though he was being presumptive.

“No,” you whispered, but you were smiling. “I want to stay out here.”

“B-but your parents…”

“Sleep like logs.” you laughed, stroking back his hair. “Spencer, I want you to make love to me under the stars. Do you think that’s something...something you can d-do?” you suddenly felt nervous telling him what you wanted. Maybe that’s not what he wanted? Maybe it was just a kiss?

But the hiss that slipped from his lips told you it was exactly what he wanted.

“I-I...there is n-nothing in the world I want m-more.” he swallowed. “B-but I...I’ve never...done this before.” his cheeks turned crimson in an instant.

Your heart swelled. You had no idea. You assumed Spencer was just quiet about his exploits. You had no idea he’d never been with a woman before.

“Oh,” you didn’t really know what to say. “Is this...have you ever pictured, you know, what your uh...first time would be like?”

His blush deepened and he gnawed heavily on his lip.

“All the time.” he confessed. “And it’s always with you.”

“Kiss me Spence.” you smiled at him, pulling him closer again by his neck.

Your lips met again but this time it was much more frantic and desperate, now you both knew exactly where this was going.

You hooked your fingers under the hem of his hoodie and pulled it up his body. He sat back so he could pull it over his head.

“T-shirt too.” you told him with a smirk while he was sat up.

He looked a little nervous but he complied. In all the years you’d known Spencer you didn’t think you’d ever seen him shirtless before. He was always conservative, insecure about how skinny he was. But in that moment he didn’t have time to worry about his insecurities, all he wanted was you and that was all that mattered.

He discarded the items of clothing, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Your eyes raked up and down his torso and soon your fingers followed suit, running over his flesh. He hissed again, telling you he liked it.

“W-what about you?” you swallowed nervously.

“What about me?” you smirked. You knew what he meant but you wanted to hear him say it.

“Y-you uh...can I...your dress?” he was blushing again and it was so adorable.

“Spencer, you can do whatever you like to me.” your voice was dripping with seduction and it made his cock twitch achingly. Oh how he’d dreamed of this moment.

His hands were shaking as he reached for the bottom of your dress. He was slow to raise the fabric, making sure you weren’t going to change your mind.

He inched it up your thighs and paused when he got it to your hips. The black pair of lace panties you wore underneath made his head spin.

“Oh gosh.” he panted a little as he spoke.

You smiled, arching your back so he could continue undressing you. Inch by inch the fabric got higher and higher, revealing more of your body.

Once you had discarded the dress, Spencer sat back again to take you all in. Your panties had a matching bra, cupping your breasts magnificently.

“Do you like what you see, Spence?”

“Are you kidding?” He smiled. “You are perfection Y/N.”

You raked your nails down his chest once more and came to a stop at the waistband of his trousers. You toyed with the button a little.

“Can I?” You whispered.

He chewed his lip and nodded.

You unbuttoned his trousers and tugged them over his hips. He wriggled out of them and tossed them in a pile with the rest of the clothes.

His cock was straining at the front of his boxers, begging to be freed.

You allowed yourself to palm him through his underwear. His head fell back and he moaned deeply.

“Oh gosh.” He panted. “I’m sorry, no ones ever touched me like this before.”

You smiled to yourself, loving that no other woman had been here before. But you could also tell if you were to touch him properly, he wouldn’t last to the main event.

You moved your hand to his wrist and guided his hand between your legs instead.

You panties were soaked already.

He looked at you with large, uncertain eyes, but you nodded in encouragement.

“Please Spencer?”

He swallowed.

“What if I’m no good.” He whined a little.

“It’s ok baby,” you cooed. “You could never make me feel anything other than amazing.”

You let go of his wrist and his fingers shakily played with the lace fabric.

He took a few deep breaths before he moved the fabric aside enough so he could get to your heat.

He was so cautious with his movements, trying to ensure he was doing everything right.

He’d read books. He’d watched porn. But he’d never had the real thing.

He started slow, circling your clit with his fingertip in gentle movements. It was enough to make several moans leave your parted lips and he took that as a good sign.

You pulled him down by his neck so you could kiss him again and his confidence built a little, moving his fingers faster between your legs.

“Oh god Spence,” you mumbled into his lips. “That feels so good baby.”

Spencer felt a swell of pride that he was able to make you feel good, but he wanted more, needed more.

“Y/N,” he panted. “C-can I...can we…”

“Yes Spence. God yes.” You kissed him again and he reluctantly removed his hand from between your legs.

You arched your back and unhooked your bra.

His mouth fell open at the sight of your breasts and he moaned viscerally.

You smiled, taking hold of both of his wrists now and placing his large hands on your breasts.

“F-fuck.” He moaned feeling you beneath his hands. “Jeez Y/N.”

You laughed, now working on sliding your panties down your legs.

Spencer gave your breasts a small squeeze, tweaking your nipples a little between his fingers.

You moved your hands to his hips and cautiously slid his boxers down his hips. You couldn’t stop the small moan that left your lips as you freed his erect member.

“Fuck Spence,” you groaned eyeing him up.

He removed his hands from your breasts so he could shimmy his boxers off.

He laid back down on top of you, his cock nestling between your legs. He kissed you softly, stroking back your hair.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something before w-we...you know…”

“You can tell me anything.” you encouraged him.

“Y/N, I have been in l-love with you for as long as I can remember. I need you t-to know that. I need you to know h-how inconceivably in love with you I am.”

You felt tears spring to your eyes at his words. You pulled him close for another kiss.

“Spencer, I love you too baby.” you whispered, making him sigh in relief.

“I have waited so long to hear you say that.”

“You should have asked.” You smirked, kissing him again. “Are you ready baby?”

He nodded with a deep breath. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he kept his eyes firmly on yours he slowly pushed his way inside of you.

His eyes widened and his jaw fell slack. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the way you felt. Honestly, he almost came as soon as your tight heat was sheathed around him.

He pushed all the way inside you, filling you up beautifully. He paused to take a few steadying breaths.

“Are you ok?” You traced your finger along his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he panted. “I just need a minute. I don’t want to uh…f-finish too soon.” He blushed.

“Take your time Spence.” You smiled lovingly at him.

He took a few more breaths and captured your lips in a kiss before he started moving slowly.

He was careful in his movements, slow and gentle as though you were made of glass.

He withdrew almost all the way, before slowly plunging back inside you.

His eyes rolled back in his head and the two of you moaned together under the starry sky.

“Jesus Y/N.” He gasped. “This f-feels so...so…”

“I know Spence,” you kissed him harder, messily exploring his mouth, your hands roaming his body and he moved in and out of you.

“I’m r-really not g-gonna…l-last long.” He spoke into your lips.

“Touch me again Spence. I want to come with you.”

He exhaled, moving his hand between your bodies and his fingers started circling your clit once more as he continued his slow thrusts.

The feeling of being inside you was otherworldly. Spencer had never dreamed in a million years it would feel this magical.

He wanted it to last forever. He never wanted this end. If he could feel one thing for the rest of his life he wanted it to be you wrapped around his dick.

He was getting closer and closer to the edge but now his fingers were working deftly on you, so you were you.

You found it hard to believe he’d never done this before because he was amazing at it. He seemed to know just what to do to bring you to your orgasm.

“I’m s-sorry Y/N…I can’t...I’m g-gonna…”

“Me too Spence.”

Hearing you moan his name was all he could take and with one last thrust, Spencer came, filling you with his load.

You came too, clenching around his spasming cock.

He fell on top of you, panting and moaning into your neck.

You wrapped him in your arms and kissed his messy hair.

“God damn Spencer,” you panted. “That was incredible.”

“R-really?” He lifted his head so he could look at you.

“Absolutely.” You held his face and kissed him gently. “I love you Spencer.”

“I love you too Y/N. So much.”

“Shall we go to bed?”

“Five more minutes under the stars?” He asked to which you nodded.

He gently pulled out of you and rolled onto his back on the blanket. You curled into him, resting your head on his chest.

He wrapped one arm around you and held your hand tightly.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” You sighed sleepily, looking up at the night sky.

“Not half as beautiful as you Y/N.”

***

It didn’t take long at all for you both to fall asleep like that. Thankfully you woke up before your parents and managed to sneak back into your tent before they found you.

Your dad would have a coronary if he found the two of you like that.

The drive back was long, it seemed longer than on the way. Maybe because you knew your time together was coming to an end.

Tomorrow Spencer would be leaving for DC and who knows when you would next see each other again.

At least you had your night together under the stars.

You were both exhausted when you arrived home so retired to your own homes to rest, Spencer promising to come and see you before he left the following morning.

Your night together had been magical, but the air between you was now stifled. It was what Spencer feared most. Giving into his urges had probably ruined your friendship.

And now he was leaving and didn’t have time to make it up to you.

As promised he showed up at your front door the following morning, his car already packed up.

You stepped out onto the porch and closed the front door behind you.

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving.” you wrapped your arms around your body as though shielding yourself from the pain that was going to be caused.

“I know, me either. I never imagined leaving Vegas, not permanently anyway.” he shrugged sadly.

“Don’t forget about me when you’re a hot shot in the FBI, Agent Reid.” you gave him a half smile.

“You and I both know it’s Doctor Reid.” he tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sigh. “Look Y/N, I need to know. After what happened the other night…”

“Spence-”

“Where do we stand Y/N?” he cut you off. “What...what are we?”

You sighed heavily and tried to smile even though your heart was breaking.

“We’re best friends, Spence.” you shrugged. “Always.”

“Best friends.” he muttered sadly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Spencer, we’re moving to different parts of the country, I’m not sure exactly what you thought that night was.”

No, neither am I.

“What was it to you?” he said instead.

“I guess...it was a perfect way to say goodbye.”

Spencer couldn’t keep his resolve any longer and his tears broke free, falling down his cheeks.

“Of course. Goodbye.” he whispered.

“Spence, please don’t cry.” you reached for him but he stepped out of your touch.

“I need to uh...g-get going. It’s a long drive to Quantico.” he rubbed the palms of his hands heavily over his eyes.

“Spence,”

“Really, I n-need to go.” he turned away from you and jogged down the front steps of your house and down the path.

“Spencer, please don’t leave like this.” you called after him, dangerously close to tears yourself.

“Goodbye Y/N.” he turned back to you when he reached the front gate. “I’ll always love you.” he sniffed but before you could say anything more, he was gone.

He ran to his car and seconds later he was inside and you were watching him pull away.

You fell to the ground on the porch and you sobbed. What else could you possibly do? You’d lost your best friend and the love of your life in one fell swoop.

All because of one stupid night under the stars.

Ask the stars up in the sky,

Ask the stars they’ll tell you why.

Stars know ev’ry little thing you do,

There’s a little star that’s watching you.

Ask the stars when you’re with me,

Ask the stars then watch and see.

***

Quantico, Virginia - 2020

Seventeen years seem to pass almost in the blink of an eye. One day Spencer was walking into the BAU for the first time and seemingly the next he was almost forty with a lifetime of trauma behind him.

He thought about you every single day for the longest time. He wondered what you were doing with your life. Were you happy? Had you met someone and got married? Had kids?

Honestly he probably still thought about you every day of his life until he met Maeve.

Maeve was a wonderful reprieve from thoughts of you, and for the first time in almost ten years you hadn’t been the first thought on his mind when he woke in the morning.

But he’d never loved her the way he loved you. It was probably for the best that he and Maeve never got to be together properly because it would have inevitably ended when he couldn’t give her his whole heart.

No, he’d left a piece of that in Vegas years ago.

After Maeve he thought about you from time to time but not everyday like he once had. When he was incarcerated he thought about you a lot. He wondered what you think of him if you could see him sitting in that cell, becoming a man he didn’t recognise. Surely you wouldn’t recognise him either.

Then he met Max and once again he thought maybe, just maybe he would finally be able to give his heart to someone else. But his hopes were dashed. They dated for a few months but she always knew there was someone else. Someone else occupied his mind and his heart and it wasn’t fair on Max to stay with her in the hopes that one day he might be able to love her like he loved you.

You hadn’t fared much better in the love department.

You met a man in college and the two of you married at the tender age of twenty one. You knew you were over compensating. You knew this wasn’t the man you were supposed to be with. But he helped take your mind off your lost love and you were sure in time you would stop thinking about Spencer all together.

But of course you didn’t.

The marriage lasted three years and you were divorced soon after your twenty fourth birthday. There had been other men over the years, but none lasted very long.

They scratched an itch. They filled a void in your life that had existed since Spencer walked out. But inevitably you couldn’t commit so each one ended quicker than the last.

You stayed in Vegas all those years, maybe hoping one day Spencer would come back to you, but of course that had been foolish. Spencer was off living his own life, he probably hadn’t given you a second thought in years.

And then, at the age of thirty five, the job offer came that changed everything.

***

“It’s so quiet around here.” Luke mused as he and Spencer walked through the bullpen.

“Yeah I know what you mean. How is Garcia getting on at her new job?”

“She’s enjoying it but she misses the BAU.”

“Tell her we miss her too. Isn’t her replacement meant to be starting today?”

“She is and she’s settling into her new office.” Emily’s voice caught Spencer and Luke’s attention.

“I guess we should go and introduce ourselves.” Luke shrugged.

“Sure,” Spencer shrugged too and the two of them made their way out of the bullpen towards Garcia’s old office.

“I bet it’s going to be so drab.” Luke laughed.

“No more unicorn mugs or fluffy pens.” Spencer agreed.

“Penelope is one of a kind.”

“Undoubtedly.” Spencer swiped his card on the door and pushed the door handle before stepping into the office, Luke just behind him.

“You must be our new technical analyst.” Luke spoke as the door closed behind the two agents.

The woman sat in Garcia’s old chair tapping on the keys turned in the chair to face them.

She seemed to move in slow motion.

“I’m SSA Luke Alvez and this is Doctor-”

“Spencer Reid.” she cut him off, the words falling from her lips.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Spencer croaked, glaring at the woman in front of him as if he’d seen a ghost.

Luke frowned looking between the two of them who seemed to have forgotten his presence.

Spencer and Y/N stared at each other without saying a word. Spencer’s chest tightened, constricting his breathing. Was he having a heart attack? Was this how he was going to die?

“You uh, know each other?” Luke spoke up.

“Uh...did know each other.” you croaked not tearing your eyes away from Spencer.

“A long time ago.” Spencer added, not looking away from you either.

Sensing the tension in the room, Luke backed up towards the door.

“Maybe I should let the two of you get reacquainted.” he said but neither of you acknowledged him.

He pushed his way back into the hall just as JJ was heading his way.

“Hey, I was just coming to meet the new tech analyst.” she smiled at him.

“I would give it a minute.” Luke told her, making her frown.

“Why?”

“There’s a lot of unfinished business in that room, trust me.” he put his arm around her shoulders to lead her away from the door.

“Spencer and the new Garcia?”

“Yeah.” Luke sighed. “If my profiling skills are accurate, I would say they were in love once. Probably still are.”

Back inside Garcia’s old office, you and Spencer were still staring at each other.

“I had no idea you still worked here, I swear. I wouldn’t have taken the job if I’d known.” you chewed your lip awkwardly.

“You look different.” he spoke as though ignoring what you’d said.

“Well yes, it has been a long time Spencer.”

“Seventeen years, three months and fifteen days.”

“Precisely.” you frowned at his recall. “I’m not eighteen anymore.”

“No and I’m not twenty two.” he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

It was longer now, curlier and messier. He sported stubble on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’d gained weight, somehow gotten even taller you were sure.

He was most certainly not the twenty two year old Spencer Reid you had spent a night with under the stars.

“You look different too. Good different.” you told him.

“A lifetime of trauma will probably do that.” he nodded stiffly.

“Spencer? Strange question for you…”

“Yeah?”

“Did you uhm...did you ever tell Penelope about...that night.” you felt yourself blushing.

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment with a sigh.

He hadn’t been this drunk in a really long time. Maybe ever. Spencer never had been a big drinker. But they’d had a tough case and Garcia had suggested they all spend the evening at her apartment drinking.

Spencer couldn’t recall who exactly had suggested the drinking games, possibly Kate, but they had been Spencer’s downfall.

“You never did answer the question,” Garica helped Spencer into his jacket after everyone else had left.

“What question?” he slurred, narrowing his eyes on her.

“During truth or dare Morgan asked you how you lost your virginity. You didn’t answer.”

He swallowed, stumbling over his feet a little.

“I uh…” he sighed. “It was with my best friend. On a camping trip under the stars.”

“How romantic!” Garcia swooned.

“Hmm not really. It doesn’t have a happy ending.”

“I don’t remember,” he opened his eyes. “Why?”

“I met her a few times before she left, she was training me up while you guys were away on cases. She told me about the team and that’s when I figured out you still worked here, but I’d already accepted the job by then. Anyway I told her I used to know you, that we were best friends. I didn’t really think much of it until I found this today.” you fished in your pocket and pulled out a brightly coloured post it note. “It was slotted between the desks. I recognise her handwriting.”

You handed the small folded up note to Spencer who took it and unfolded it. In Garcia’s signature handwriting, it read, “You’re in love, just ask the stars.”

“Ok so maybe I did tell her about my best friend who I lost my virginity to under the stars.” he confessed.

“Ah then the note makes sense.” you took it back from him and slid it back into your pocket.

“Yeah.”

Silence followed, heavy, palpable silence.

He thought maybe after all this time he didn’t feel as strongly about you as he used to. But looking into your beautiful eyes, all those feelings came flooding back to him. He didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that he was still in love with you.

The question was, did you still feel the same?

As if reading his mind you stepped a little closer to Spencer, cautiously at first but when he didn’t shy away you came even closer.

You took hold of his tie and played with it between your fingers.

“I know what you’re thinking Spence,” you smiled coyly. “I always know what you’re thinking.”

“You should have been a profiler.” He smiled softly, making you laugh.

“I’ve said it once, Spence and I’ll say it again. If you want to know if I’m still in love with you...all you have to do, is ask.”

When they twinkle, twinkle,

Wedding bells will tinkle, tinkle.

You’re in love, just ask the stars.

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[solomonish]

You Burned So Brightly (Simeon x Reader)

Simeon has fallen, and he left his memories in the Realm that cast him down. They sent him straight back to you, but nothing is ever that easy.

ao3 link: here!

With a single, brilliant streak of light across the Devildom sky, the battles that were on the brink of becoming a second war came to a halt. Smoke curled up in the distance, light and airy like nothing you've ever seen before. The demons near the impact seemed to itch, the holy energy burning off into the air burning their skin. In the middle of a small crater, barely bigger in diameter than the fallen angel was in height, Simeon struggled to bring himself to his knees. As you stood before the impact site, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Lucifer near your side, you did your best to avoid cringing at Simeon's groans of pain.

Diavolo called for his attention, his authoritative voice only engaged for the sake of the surrounding, curious citizens. After a moment, Simeon forced his head up, clear blue eyes scanning the crowd. His eyes fell to you last, and though he held his gaze for a long time, recognition never flashed within him.

Simeon had fallen, and he left his memories in the Celestial Realm.

---

Barbatos led you to the room where Simeon was staying, informing you of any progress he and Diavolo had made and updating you on their search for a suitable place for him to live. Vaguely, you heard Barbatos ask if you agreed that a nice, cozy area on the outskirts of town would be nice, preferably something with enough yard space for a small garden. You hummed in agreement, and even though the both of you knew you had no say in the matter, Barbatos still gave you a displeased glance. He knew you weren't listening.

He stopped outside the door, hand faltering before the doorknob when you called out to him. Green eyes as impassive as always, he turned towards you fully and let his hand fall to his side. Before speaking, you glanced at his eyebrows and nearly sighed in relief to see his eyebrows weren't furrowed in the slightest. Despite the side-eyes and rather tense atmosphere, he wasn't truly mad at you.

Keeping your voice low, you asked, "Does he remember any of the exchange program?"

Barbatis kept his expression flat, but he did jut his chin just a hint, the closest thing you would get to a frown. "Bits and pieces. Nothing new."

"Why does he still only remember things in fragments?"

There was a pause. This was information you were permitted to know; but just because Barbatos was allowed to tell you did not mean he should. Still, you were notorious for snooping around and getting what you wanted anyway. "We believe he had too much sensitive information about the Celestial Realm, but the job was done in haste to bring the battles to a close."

"Oh." You didn't have any expectations set for his response, but you still felt a heavy stone, similar to disappointment, settle in your stomach. Perhaps dread was more appropriate - though anymore, your gut was always tied in knots and your emotions were just as jumbled. "Does it hurt him?"

"Physically? No," Barbatos answered, reaching for the doorknob again. You opened your mouth to ask for more details, but Barbatos gave you a look that said, clearly, you'll see. Shutting your mouth, you squared your shoulders and allowed him to open the door.

The room, grand yet somehow seeming plain for a palace's guest room, looked the same as it had all the times before. None of the chairs moved from their expertly-placed positions in the room, having been unoccupied for the entirety of Simeon's stay. Each book was nestled into its place in its case, and not a single gap ruined the uniform, brick-like image of the surrounding bookshelves. Even the bedsheets, still perfectly tucked beneath the mattress, looked unused, the only crinkles in the sheets coming from directly beneath the occupant.

Simeon sat in the middle of the bed, knees drawn to his chest and arms resting atop them. You could see his blue eyes surveying the room, a change from the past days but not exactly an improvement. The aura surrounding him was menacing, and if you strained your ears you could almost hear a low growl. Despite sitting in one spot for days like a scared animal, Simeon never felt more like a predator.

"Hello, Simeon," You said. You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but Barbatos' hand on your shoulder stopped you. When you turned to look at him, he was already shaking his head. This was as close to Simeon as you would be allowed to get.

"You're back," Simeon noted, his voice devoid of any fondness. It was still the same pitch as before, but it no longer sounded like a delicate tune carried on the warm summer breeze. Instead, it felt more like a warning shot, sharp and threatening yet drawing no blood. He sounded dangerous.

"I am. I was hoping you might remember something new, but...it seems that's not the case."

Simeon looked you up and down before scoffing. "What makes you think you're so memorable?"

Not wanting to anger him, you chuckled in response, hoping it didn't sound as awkward as it felt. Simeon's eyes never left your form, and you missed the way his pupils widened, almost like a cat's.

You could hear him murmur under his breath, "Perhaps I could recognize you by the way you taste…" It was a poor attempt at intimidation, but it was intimidation nonetheless. When you looked up at Simeon, his pupils were blown wide, making his eyes almost entirely black. Instinctively you stepped back, watching as Simeon unfolded himself for the first time in days.

Barbatos' grip on your shoulder tightened right as Simeon pounced, pushing you behind him as he chanted some spell you'd never heard before. Though the attack seemed to move in slow motion, he ushered you out all too quickly, slamming the door shut and locking it physically before casting another spell. Right as he finished speaking, something solid slammed against the door, and you could hear Simeon snarling on the other side.

"He's reconciling," Barbatos explained vaguely. "He's not used to craving human souls, or to the shifting energies inside him. Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Good. Come with me. We'll have to report what happened."

Though you didn't want to, you followed Barbatos again down the hall, this time taking care to trail a bit behind in your own petty act of defiance.

You knew, at least for a while, that you would not be seeing Simeon again.

---

When you were permitted to visit him again, you were relieved. Whatever rehabilitation efforts Diavolo and Barbatos were working on took longer than you thought, and days stretched into weeks until you were wondering if they were losing hope in his recovery as you were. Of course, the pair had more information than you did, but in a situation that seemed as dire as this, your worry was warranted.

The hallway you walked countless times before was the same as always, yet you found yourself surveying the walls. Barbatos was not relaying any information to you this time, which was strange; clearly, if you were allowed to see Simeon again, progress had been made and there was information to give. But you were eager to get in the room, so you didn’t waste time with questions that would be answered firsthand and allowed Barbatos to open the door for you anyway.

Stepping into the guest room, it finally looked more lived in than the last time. The desk on the opposite wall, surrounded by bookcases, had a few papers and pens scattered around it, something like an outline lying face-up in the middle. A few books had been removed from the shelves, their neighbors slumping over in the void they left. Simeon was in one of the plush armchairs in the room, a book in his hands with his eyebrows furrowed. His posture was slumped, nothing like the practiced perfection he had as an angel.

You took a few steps into the room, noticing how Simeon stiffened yet did not take his eyes away from the book in his hands. Barbatos stepped into the room, the door shutting with a click. He made no effort to be within arm’s reach of you, but you could still feel his protective presence over your shoulder.

Barbatos cleared his throat, and Simeon begrudgingly put his book down, eyes falling immediately to you. “Simeon, as I’m sure you can see, MC has arrived to see you again.”

Simeon looked blatantly unamused. “So you have,” He murmured, pushing on the arms of the chair to straighten his posture. You sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, eyeing the space between the two of you.

You could feel the lapse in his memories as if it was a palpable tension in the air. The way Simeon held you in his gaze, distrusting, wondering why a human was so interested in him and why you were not a welcome meal was enough to send shivers down your spine. Fighting the urge, you turned to take in the room, hoping for something interesting to comment on. “I see you’re outlining something. Could you have remembered something for the next installment of TSL?”

“Those books…” Simeon was eyeing the outline on the desk, but he trailed off and darted his eyes back to you distrustfully before he could continue. You felt something left unsaid, but had no idea what it could be.

“We’ve tried using them to jog his memory,” Barbatos explained. “It didn’t work.”

Though Simeon masterfully used clear inspirations from real life, such caricatures of the brothers and their lives must have been a difficult idea to unlearn. Briefly, you wondered if you had been made into a character in the series yet. Part of you hoped you weren’t. It would probably be better if you built your relationship with him from the ground up - no matter how long it may take or how painful it may be.

For once, Simeon appeared bashful, averting his gaze again. “I do remember some of the plot points, though,” he murmured. “I just don’t know what they mean.”

Before anybody could stop you, you reached out and placed a hand on Simeon’s knee. His body was cold like the brothers’, enough to seep through his clothes and draw your attention. You missed the comforting warmth he used to carry. You missed when he would look at you and you didn’t feel like he hated you, too.

“Maybe they don’t mean anything anymore,” You offered, ignoring Barbatos’ piercing stare. Whether he was warning you to keep your hand away or keep your thoughts to yourself, you didn’t know, but you didn’t pay attention to either warning. “Maybe now they’re just stories, and life gets to be something else.”

When you contacted Diavolo about seeing Simeon again, he warned you the meeting would not be long. Still, the way Barbatos ushered you out felt as though he were cutting your time short as punishment for potentially risking their endeavors to restore Simeon’s memories. Before he shut the door on you, you looked back to see Simeon staring at his knee, thinking over what you said. No lecture came from Baratos, but if it had, it wouldn’t have mattered.

From that day on, Simeon started venturing out of his room.

You heard from Lucifer one night, having pestered him after another night of returning home late from the castle, that Simeon had taken to wandering the halls by himself. He never took anything, never seemed to intend to cause problems, and instead took his time taking in every painting. Every time one of the staff members went to check on him and found his room empty, the entire castle went on lockdown, yet when Simeon was made aware of this he merely seemed amused. You asked why nobody was locking the door, and Lucifer gave you an exasperated expression. Like a pet rat, Simeon kept finding ways to unlock the door so he could roam. Perhaps that was why Barbatos seemed to be having such a hard time recently.

With his newfound desire to adapt - and the trust that, in the backwards fashion you came to expect from the Devildom, came from him being alone in the castle without ruining something, even if his escape was counterintuitive to building trust in him - Little Ds were used to tend to him when higher-ranking demons were busy. The only time somebody checked in on him was to evaluate his mental state and to safeguard your visits. Those, too, were slowly becoming less formal, and soon you were going to the castle and simply being pointed in the direction to his room, rather than being led.

You knocked on his door, unsurprised to hear silence on the other end. However, this was the first time it happened and you were alone. Though you were trusted and respected (among the nobility, anyway) in the Devildom, wandering aimlessly around the castle didn’t seem like the smartest idea. A small pattering of footsteps behind you caught your attention, and you turned to see a Little D standing behind you. His horns were curled like Satan’s, his eyes burning green as if a fire was lit behind them. You smiled at him, and he only tilted his head - as much as he could, anyway.

“Have you seen Simeon?” You asked him, hoping he’d be one of the easy-going ones. After studying you for a moment, the Little D only nodded. Talkative, no, but you were right on him being relaxed. Following his lead, you soon found yourself in one of the smaller sections of the castle garden. The Little D floated over the twisting roots and vines underfoot, sparing you no time to step over and around the obstacles. By the time you found him again, he was waiting impatiently at an opening between a line of small trees, leading to a courtyard with an overgrown fountain in the middle. He left in the middle of your breathless thanks, which you finished in a sigh.

Simeon heard and turned towards you, his attention pulled from one of the broken busts on a pedestal. “Hello. If I had known I’d have a visitor today, I would have waited for you.”

His greetings were slowly becoming more friendly, you noticed. Smiling at him, you made your way over to him, thankful for the worn stone beneath your feet instead of the purposeful overgrowth behind you. “What are you doing out here?”

Simeon shrugged. “I’ve grown tired of the same hallways and that room.”

“Not willing to explore different hallways? I hear they get pretty exciting in the east wing.”

He smirked at that. “Even I know not to venture there. I have no interest in pushing my luck.”

Turning back to the bust, you watched him grip his chin thoughtfully. You wondered if that was a trait of all wrath demons, considering their lord, or if it was merely an impulse based on him being well-read. In this moment, he looked startlingly like Satan, a fact that both calmed you and worried you. Satan was a good influence for him, sure - but the more he influenced Simeon, the less like himself Simeon would turn out to be.

“You’re thinking pretty loudly over there,” Simeon said, and for a moment, you thought you heard that gentleness that you were used to. “Would you like to share your thoughts?”

“I was just thinking about how Satan has been helping your transition,” You answered in an obvious half-truth. “Has he lent you any good books?”

“All of his recommendations seemed a bit on the nose for my situation,” Simeon answered bluntly. You laughed, short and unexpected. He smiled. “But I do appreciate the help.”

“Do you need the books in the same way he does?” You asked. Simeon stiffened slightly, the only indication that he was uncomfortable. But, for you, he didn’t deny you an answer.

“I don’t remember much about who I was before. I know how angels were supposed to be, but none of it feels like me. The only thing that feels like me is this wrath, but even then, it isn’t as strong as his, I’m sure.”

You had nothing to say to that, instead turning to examine the bust. The features were worn down, much like the rest of the details. Instead, it was a vague person-shape, the head misshapen from what used to be the hair and arms missing since the beginning. Beside, Simeon murmured under his breath, “Even though I’m reconstructing where he was constructing, I can’t help but feel we might end up more similar than either of us expect.”

Simmering just beneath his words, you thought you could hear just a tinge of...something. Regret? Sorrow? Whatever it was, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was falling into the same line of thinking you often found Satan grappling with, wondering if a personality crafted as a wall was hardly a personality at all. You would assure Simeon as often as you assured Satan if he needed it, but you also knew that this was different. Simeon had you around before he decided who to become, and you knew the person he used to be. If it was what he wanted, you could - you would - help him down a similar path.

But you knew better than to say so. Instead, you stared at the faceless bust before you and gave him the space to figure it out for himself.

---

The memories taken from Simeon were officially gone, Diavolo and Barbatos decided, at least gone enough that they could not reach them without risking Simeon’s wellbeing. Though there was now an extra layer of animosity between them, they still considered him a friend (if not a former one) and had no desire to hurt him. Besides, the battles were over. There was no need to send a message of power via an ex-angel the Celestial Realm no longer cared about. With no need to keep him close in the castle, and a hesitant trust in his adjustment to the Devildom, Diavolo offered him a modest home on the outskirts with a small yard, just like he was considering before. It was close to the castle, though not close enough that the wealthier inhabitants would cause a fuss about favoritism. Even though the exterior was dark, you were pleased to see it resembled a cottage more than its neighbors. Beside you, Satan commented about how charming and quaint it was - you agreed without really hearing him.

As Satan knocked on the door, you drummed your fingers nervously on the vase in your hands. Barbatos mentioned something about Simeon liking to garden, but did he even remember? You knew he wouldn’t remember the time he first encountered the plant in your hands. It was a type of Tiny Venus Flytrap, one that needed to feed constantly on a microorganism in the air. It was constantly opening and closing its leaves, and Simeon spent at least half an hour cooing over one when he first saw it. You remembered the melodious chuckle that kept ringing through the greenhouse, and a sudden twinge of pain struck through you when you realized he wouldn’t.

As if on cue, Simeon opened the door, looking perturbed at the interruption but softening when he saw you and Satan in the doorway. “Oh, I forgot you were coming over today,” He said, stepping aside to let the two of you in. Though you didn’t think Simeon would lie about such a thing, the cleanliness of the house and the tea brewing in the kitchen planted a small seed of doubt in your mind.

“We thought we’d offer you a few housewarming gifts,” Satan responded. The smile he gave was easy, expertly hiding how just minutes before he had nearly knocked down a wall in the House of Lamentation and was more than willing to use the trip as an excuse to escape his brothers. Simeon chuckled, no doubt catching a hint of the hidden meanings behind his words. At least his perceptiveness wasn’t affected by his fall.

“Oh? Gifts?”

“Yeah. Your bookshelves look bare, so I thought you’d like a headstart on your collection.”

“Thank you,” Simeon answered, reaching for the box in Satan’s hands. You watched his entire body crumple for a moment, unsuspecting of the weight in his hands. He recovered quickly, but not before huffing out, “Oh, there’s quite a lot in here, huh?”

Satan didn’t seem bothered by his breathlessness - if anything, he looked amused. You almost reached out to help, but remembered your own human strength wouldn’t do much. Plus, you still had a fragile vase in your hands. Simeon placed the box on the ground, opening the flaps and peering inside. He wasn’t able to hide the beginning of a frown when he saw copies of his own books on top, and quickly moved those out of the way. He seemed much more pleased with the other options.

“Thank you. I suppose I won’t have to spend a long time finding my own additions to these shelves,” Adding a good-natured chuckle to the end of his sentence, Simeon turned towards you. “What do you have there?”

“Oh! It’s a Tiny Venus Flytrap. You-” Stopping short, you glanced at the copies of TSL on the floor and cleared your throat. “You don’t have to feed it much. Just put it in a window that gets a lot of moonlight and water once during each waxing gibbous.”

Curiously, Simeon reached for the plant and cradled it in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over the glazed vase, the blue so dark it nearly looked like black ink. Tentatively, he put his finger on one of the leaves and let out a boyish giggle as it closed around him. You laughed too, pleased to see history repeating itself.

“This is absolutely darling, MC. Thank you,” He didn’t meet your eyes, still entranced by the movement of the leaves. When you looked at Satan, he was giving you a mischievous look. On the way to the house, you told him about your plan to try and jog Simeon’s memories, and he had been hesitant to say that your plan would work. If it didn’t, you certainly succeeded in testing to see if part of the old Simeon was still around.

The tea kettle whistled in the kitchen, and Simeon finally snapped his head up from his new pet plant. “I’ll put this little guy in the kitchen window, seeing as it gets the most moonlight,” He explained, scurrying over with the same dainty walk he had before. You watched him carefully as he adjusted his plant, giving it an affectionate pat before tending to the tea. As he pulled out a budget tea set you’ve definitely seen in the bargain shop before, you tried to hide the guilt on your face. Back at the House of Lamentation, in a box beneath your bed, was Simeon’s old set, still in pristine condition in its white and gold glory. You were glad you decided against bringing that as a gift - looking around at your dark surroundings, it didn’t seem like it would fit in.

You could hold on to your little memories for a while longer, you thought. Simeon didn’t seem to be making use of anything regarding his past anyway.

---

When Simeon opened the door after summoning you to his house, you weren’t expecting his new outfit.

Diavolo had him fitted in some black, plain clothes - something to cover him without drawing too much attention to him. However, now that he had enough time to get used to his surroundings and accept his new life as a demon, he also had enough time to craft a new look for himself.

You weren’t expecting that to include a dark, cool-colored, patterned button down, tucked into black pants with most of the buttons undone.

Nearly choking on your own spit the moment he opened the door, you allowed him to usher you in and rub your back hesitantly. After he thought you had collected yourself - and yes, at that point you stopped choking, but you were still reeling at the image of his chest (did some part of him really need to be exposed at all times?) - he asked, “Do you not like my clothes?”

His voice sounded just as devastatingly sad as a demon. “N-no, they’re fine! I just…” You began gesturing towards his exposed chest and even his midriff before getting embarrassed and dropping your hand. “I wasn’t expecting all that.”

“Oh, here,” Simeone buttoned up three buttons, which did absolutely nothing, and opened the back door to his small yard. “Thanks for agreeing to help me.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, eyes still on his chest as you walked outside.

The Devildom was known for its warm temperatures, and as you helped him prepare the dirt you quickly found your school shirt uncomfortable as it stuck to your skin. Before long, you slipped it off, thankful for the tank top you decided to wear beneath it, and got back to work. The two of you engaged in an easy conversation, but every so often you’d realize Simeon’s eyes stayed on you for a moment too long. Normally, you wouldn’t consider yourself some irresistible temptation, but he was new to being a demon. Any time he’d reach towards you to help you or borrow a tool, you had to fight the urge to flinch. By the time he offered you a break, you had nearly jumped out of your skin too many times to count.

Spent from the labor, you stayed on the grass while he went to get a drink, coming back with a large glass of water that you graciously accepted. As you drank, he watched you intently - or, more specifically, he watched your left shoulder.

“Uh, are you okay?” You asked cautiously. “You’ve been staring a lot.”

He looked genuinely surprised to have been caught. “Have I? I apologize.” His eyes ran over your pact marks where they peeked out from beneath your shirt before falling on your shoulder again. “What’s that scar?”

“Hm?” Glancing down at your shoulder, you could barely make out the shape of an eye scarred on your skin. Honestly, you hadn’t even noticed it before he brought it up. After all, the mark that had been there was purposely difficult to see when he made the vow of protection, so you hadn’t even noticed when it turned to scar tissue. Still, the thought saddened you, and you reach to cover it with your opposite hand. “Oh, that. You gave it to me.”

“I did?” His eyes widened, and he started to toy with one of the buttons attached to his shirt. “I’m- I’m so sorry, MC, I don’t remember-”

“No no no, it’s not like that. I didn’t mean-” He stood up abruptly, not allowing you to finish. His expression was dark, a cross between furious and devastated, and he turned to head back inside. You could imagine his footsteps searing the dry Devildom grass as he stalked away.

“Feel free to let yourself out. Thank you for your help.” He left you sitting in his yard, and you rubbed your scar aimlessly. Though it was just a phantom feeling, it seemed to throb in pain just from his reaction.

---

Simeon offered to walk you home after an RAD party after Diavolo asked all the brothers to stay back for student council business. After months of slowly building your relationship back up again, he was finally comfortable being around you, confident in his ability to reign in his wrath (or at least his speed so he could run far from you if he needed to.) He purposely shortened his strides, the walk taking a much longer time than it normally did. In his company, though, with his easy laughter and your banter, you didn’t mind one bit.

It wasn’t until you finally reached the gates to the house that he let his expression somber. “Hey, MC?” He asked tentatively, as if worried he was intruding. “I know you aren’t supposed to tell me much about my old life, but…” His eyes fell to your scar, which your outfit did nothing to hide.

“Simeon, it’s not like that. You didn’t carve it into me, or anything.”

“Then how did I scar you?”

You sighed. “It used to be an angelic pact. You would-” Did he know about his prophetic abilities as an angel? After clicking your tongue in thought, you corrected yourself. “You were just trying to protect me. We didn’t know this would happen.”

If Simeon cared about your hesitation and how obviously you were hiding information, he didn’t show it. Instead, he asked, “Did it hurt, then? When it turned from a promise into a wound?”

Yes, you wanted to say. Just minutes before you heard that he fell, you felt the pain in your shoulder, but you were too busy tending the wounds of others to really pay attention to the pain. You had forgotten about it until Simeon noticed the scar all that time ago, and ever since you had convinced yourself that it throbbed, wanting to turn back into the vow it could never be.

Instead, you smiled at him. “No. I forgot about it until you said something, remember?”

But your smile was too thin, and it betrayed you.

---

You were not supposed to be doing this. However, you had turned your phone off, so the brothers couldn’t talk you out of something so stupid.

You and Simeon hunkered down in the Botanical Gardens long after close, figuring it was a random enough spot that nobody would find you for a while. Hunkered between your favorite type of flytraps, you let Simeon ask you the questions he’s been dying to find answers for since he fell. Each question you answered, telling him about the exchange program and his roommates and all of the memories you held in your heart, safekeeping for the day you could give them back to him.

After all, the way Luke’s face crumpled when he realized that Simeon truly didn’t remember him was something you wanted to avoid seeing again altogether.

There were parts you didn’t know the details of, bits of information that made Simeon’s expression darken, but he urged you to continue, desperate to learn about the voids inside of him he could never figure out how to fill. It wasn’t until you could hear people outside, too close to finding you for you to escape, that you stopped, and even by then your throat was dry and sore.

Before you left to give yourselves up, Simeon reached out and grabbed your hand. There was a serious look in his eyes, and you gulped. “Make a pact with me.”

“What?” You asked. “Simeon, you’re still-”

“I know. But we’re starting to cause trouble, and-” He looked to your arm, where one of the brothers’ marks slipped out from beneath your t-shirt sleeve. “I don’t want them to use their pacts over me. And I trust that you won’t use me just because I haven’t made a true pact before.”

Well, that last part was a given. Maybe it was the sound of Mammon’s voice getting closer, or maybe it was the intensity of his gaze - either way, you fell to your knees so you could be level with him again and nodded. There was an uncomfortable warmth on your shoulder, something that started off soothing but became too hot and prickled at your skin. Before you could look at the mark, Simeon reached for your face and pulled you in, kissing you with a heat he never had during the program and before his fall. Mammon and Leviathan chose this moment to burst in, their shouts falling at the image before them.

Leviathan was the first to speak, grumbling about gross normies in a tone that was clearly giving way to his sin. Mammon came to his senses a few moments later, yelling at Simeon about keeping his hands off. He reached for your arm, pulling you away roughly before shouting directly in your ear, “Hey! What’s the deal with this?”

He was pointing at your exposed left shoulder, where, over the scar, a dark pact mark sat. You were slightly unsettled at how foreboding it looked when you knew it was a twisted distortion of some angelic imagery, but one look at Simeon’s please cheshire grin eased your worries.

---

“So, about those battles…” Simeon trailed off. You were at his house, reading some books in his collection but really just using the trip as an excuse to lay with your head in Simeon’s lap. In one hand, he held a copy of his books, trying to regain some of his memories through their words again. The other was carding through your hair, distracting you from your own book - something random you had plucked off the shelves, eager to get to your spot on the couch.

“You know I’m not supposed to tell you anything about that.”

“You weren’t supposed to tell me a lot of things, and yet…” He flicked your left shoulder. You sighed, resting your open book on your chest.

“What do you want to know?” He opened his mouth, but you interrupted him before he could get anything out. “Be specific. I can’t give you the full history of everything. I don’t even know if I know the full history of everything.”

Simeon smiled, tapping his fingers on you mindlessly. “Can you tell me about the battle I fell from?” He noticed how your smile faltered, and when you looked away, he reached to guide your eyes back to his. “Is something wrong?”

You unfurled his fingers and pressed his palm to your cheek, nuzzling into it. “It was over me.”

“Oh.” His voice got significantly smaller, and he asked, “What did you do…?”

“I wasn’t just me!” Playfully, you swatted at his arm, half hoping to dispel the awkwardness hovering in the air. Settling down, you clarified, “It was more...what we did.”

Simeon filled in some of the gaps himself. “I was in love with you.”

“I know, right? You have no taste.” He flicked your nose this time, and you stuck your tongue out at him. “Wait, was?!”

“Stay on topic, little lamb,” He urged gently. When you looked up at him, silently indicating for him to continue his questions, he asked, “So, what, did I lose? Was I condemned for fighting against the Celestial Realm?” That would be a noble fall, he decided. He could make peace with that.

But your face fell again, and your voice got serious. “Simeon...you were fighting against me. You were fighting for the Celestial Realm.”

“What?” Truly aghast, he placed his hand on your cheek again, applying no force but keeping your gaze on his as if you’d stop talking if you looked away. “Why?”

Part of you didn’t know, and that part would never know. Not if Simeon really never regained his memories, anyway. Dejectedly, you shrugged and answered, “I don’t know for sure. But I think you were trying to fight for the fate of my soul. You thought you were fighting for me.”

“How can you know?” You hated the way his voice shook, but didn’t draw any attention to it. “How can you know what I was thinking when I don’t even know?”

“Because I trust you, Simeon. I trusted you then and I trust you now.”

He nodded, but you could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t entirely convinced. Perhaps Diavolo and Baratos were on to something when they warned you not to indulge his questions. His hand went back to slowly messing with your hair, but there was a reluctance to it that told he was only trying to ease your own worries. You could guess what he was thinking - you were probably thinking the same thing, torn apart by a relationship that only seemed to exist to defy every rule that ever existed.

Wherever you went and whatever you did, if he was to follow you and love you, it felt like you would never know peace.

But if you already fought each other, fought for each other, what else was there that you couldn’t handle?