#excuse the word vomit but I’ve been thinking about this all day

[vincentsleftear]

There’s just something about the way Sofia makes it her mission to set her family on a new track. How she seeks to avenge the wrongs committed against her mother, a woman whose murder at the hands of her husband was swept under the rug by her own family. And herself, a woman sacrificed by that very same family, locked away and tortured in an institution for crimes she did not commit.

Something about how she vows the legacy of the Falcone Family hurting their most vulnerable ends with her…

And then there’s Gia, her young niece.

Sofia murders the remaining Falcones in the name of revenge. She lies to the public and (more importantly) lies to Gia about the way they all died. Gia becomes another motherless daughter, someone who had those she loved ripped away by those she trusted.

To tie up any loose ends, Sofia has this little girl carted away to some orphanage in Gotham, just another institution where Gia will face God knows what horrors all alone. At the hands of Sofia, Gia becomes yet another girl discarded like a peice of trash by those she needs protection from most.

There’s just something about how in her mission to rise above her family’s dark past Sofia Falcone is slowly becoming the very thing she seeks to destroy….

[jflemings]

— she looks so perfect

pairing: ucla!jessie fleming x ucla!reader / self titled series

synopsis: jessie’s moving to london and she has every intention of taking you with her

warnings: mentions of a rocky familial relationship

a/n: 5sos was the first fandom i was ever in and their self titled album will forever hold a very special place in my heart, so here’s this fic in honour of it being almost 11 years since i first saw the band live :’)

୧ ‧₊˚ 🌹 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Let's get out, let's get out / 'Cause this deadbeat town's only here just to keep us down / While I was out / I found myself alone, just thinkin' / If I showed up with a plane ticket / And a shiny diamond ring with your name on it / Would you wanna run away too? / 'Cause all I really want is you

jessie’s so stupidly in love with you that it’s ridiculous.

it’s a wonder she’s even gotten as far as she has in her career, because all she thinks of all day, every day is you you you.

she knew from the moment teagan introduced the two of you that she’d be at your mercy for the rest of her life. she knew that it didn’t matter if she never made a move, you would follow her and plague her brain until the end of time.

it was the unwavering, immovable feelings that drove her to the door of your dorm room at two in the morning during freshman year finals week. she had been cramming and completely overloading her brain with so much information that she snapped. in her unrested and borderline delirious mind, the best time to confess her feelings to you was during one of the most stressful weeks of the year.

she had banged her knee against her desk when she stood after having the genius revelation, waking teagan up from where she was hunched over her psychology textbook. she had merely told her roommate and friend that she ‘had something important to tell you’ before marching her ass straight to you.

her nerve never faulted, even after you opened the door looking both ridiculously sleep deprived and gorgeous as ever. you couldn’t even get a word in before she was spilling her guts.

“i really like you” jessie says with wide eyes “and i’m well aware that this probably isn’t the best time to tell you this, but the lack of sleep is getting to me and, unfortunately, i have found myself here”

you nod along to her word vomit, taking it all in and processing what you can. you cock your head and smile “it’s about time fleming” you say teasingly “i’ve been waiting for you to make a move all year”

jessie gawks at you “excuse me?”

“yeah. i didn’t want to say anything because i figured that you’d come to me when you were ready” you take a long sip of your coffee before continuing “didn’t think it would take you this long though”

“you knew i liked you all along and didn’t say anything? how could you let me embarrass myself like that!” she groans as she wipes a hand down her face “jesus” she mumbles.

you shake your head “it wasn’t embarrassing, jess. i thought it was cute the way you’d tell teags and olivia to shut up everytime they made jokes about it when they thought i wasn’t listening”

“yeah. awesome” she grumbles more to herself then to you.

checking your watch, your eyebrows crease “i’m gonna head to bed but come grab me for coffee tomorrow morning? we can get bagels from that place you like”

jessie’s head shoots up in shock “what? like a date?”

“yes, jess. like a date” you smile crookedly

“okay” she says smiling before beginning to step back “how’s ten sound?”

“ten sounds perfect”

that date eventually led her here, in your shared apartment staring at a ring. she’d put any money she could spare away to get it for you and although it wasn’t anything glamorous with a big rock, it was something that she knew you’d like. the canadian had been waiting for the perfect moment to propose to you, but since signing her first professional contract with chelsea, she’d been running out of time.

she fiddles with the box in her hand as she sits on the end of your bed. her thoughts are so loud that she almost doesn’t hear the front door slam and you curse as you make your way to the bedroom. she scrambles to dive over to her side of the bed, messing up the made sheets, as she hastily puts the box in her bedside table. the drawer slams at the same time you open the door.

jessie turns to face you, a cheesy grin on her face as your sentence dies on your tongue.

you cock your head “what are you doing?”

“nothing!” she says all too quickly as she sits up “what are you doing?”

“figuring out how to tell my mother that she doesn’t run my life” you sniffle and drop your bag.

jessie stands quickly and walks towards you, already grabbing your face and wiping the few stray tears that have fallen. she hadn’t noticed that you were crying when she first saw you, but your red rimmed, slightly puffy eyes, tell her that you started before you even walk through the door.

“what happened?” she asks as she guides you to sit on the bed

“she just—” you groan and furiously wipe at your eyes “she just doesn’t get it! she still treats me like a clueless kid who doesn’t know what they want in life. she says that my degree isn’t gonna get me anywhere and that i should just quit while i’m ahead and get a real job”

jessie frowns and tenderly pulls your hands away from your face so you don’t make your eyes more irritated. she holds your hands delicately in her lap and guides your head to rest on her shoulder. you turn into the crook of her neck and sniffle some more.

“and she thinks that you moving to london is even more of a reason for me to go back home” you mumble against the skin of jessie’s neck “it’s so stupid”

“just come with me” she blurts out.

your head shoots up from the crook of her neck, eyes wide and jaw hung “what?”

jessie gulps “i said just come with me. to london”

“jessie are you crazy?”

“no!” there’s a pause “not really” she mumbles.

“i— are you fucking with me right now?” you ask in complete disbelief.

the topic of jessie’s move had been mostly avoided by the two of you because of the uncertainty surrounding the future of your relationship. you both knew that you wanted to stay together, but long distance was scary, and the both of you were still young.

“no” she answers with a little more confidence “i want you to come to london with me. i want to make a life with you that no one else can interfere in, i want to take the next step in my life with you.”

silence rolls over the two of you and doubt starts settling in jessie’s mind. maybe you weren’t ready for that with her, maybe you didn’t even want to continue being with her, maybe this was a bad time, or too soon, or maybe she’d read it all wrong and you actually were considering going home. maybe—

“okay” you breathe “okay. i’ll come to london”

jessie’s eyes go wide “seriously?”

“seriously” you nod.

she jumps up in front of you like she’s going to run somewhere before she stops. her eyes dart to her bedside table over your shoulder before quickly looking back at you.

you look over your shoulder “what was that”

“what was what” she rushes out, still unmoving.

“that look, what was that look?”

“look? what look? no look”

the two of you stare at eachother for a moment, both not speaking as you try to wordlessly figure out what jessie could be hiding. she’s still standing in a half bent over position with her feet pointing opposite directions like an idiot, and you think she resembles a cornered animal.

your eyes flick to the side of you and you make the split second decision to throw caution to the wind and dive to her bedside table.

“no! wait!” jessie shouts as she dives after you, but she’s too late. by the time she’s looming over you from behind, you’ve already got her bedside drawer open.

you hear her suck in a sharp breath from above you.

slowly, you pull out the black velvet ring box that looks back at you. it’s sitting on top of a half-read book, a stack of post it notes and jessie’s old broken phone charger. it’s a stark contrast to the disorganised mess that is jessie’s bedside table.

you pull it out and pop it open slowly, revealing a simple silver band with a small diamond. you gasp “jessie”

jessie sighs and sits back on her knees, allowing you to sit up with one leg thrown over the edge of the bed.

“it’s not— i wasn’t—” jessie tries to explain, but the words keep dying in her throat. she sighs again “you weren’t meant to see that”

you look up at her “when did you get this?”

“i don’t know, a couple months ago maybe?” she rubs the back of her neck “there’s never been a right time and with me moving, i just didn’t know if that’s what you wanted”

“you thought i wouldn’t want to marry you?” you ask in disbelief, the shock evident on your face.

“there was a point where i thought you wouldn’t wanna be with me period” she huffs out a half assed laugh before her hands settle in her lap.

you shake your head and and push the box into jessie’s hands “are you gonna sit there and look pretty or are you gonna ask me to marry you?” you sass her with a glint in your eye.

jessie’s jaw drops “what? right now? i don’t— i don’t have a speech or anything!”

you wave your hand about “as if i give a fuck about a prepared speech jess. everytime you speak to me it’s like a declaration of love, say whatever comes to mind”

the midfielder scrambles off the bed and onto one knee in front of you, her hands slightly shaky and completely unprepared. she clears her throat “y/n” she starts.

you give her an encouraging nod.

jessie nods along with you “there’s a lot of things in life that i’m proud of, but everytime someone asks me what i’m most proud of my first thought is you. you, who is so selfless and so determined to make a better life from the cards that you were dealt. you, who has chosen everyday to to show kindness to those who may not have been the most kind to you.”

your vision goes cloudy when you see jessie’s tearing up. she wipes her eyes before continuing.

“there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t picture you in my life. every mile stone, every big life moment, you’re right there by my side. i would follow you to the end of the earth and back three times over if you needed me to, and i know you’d do the same for me” she clears her throat again “you’ve made me the best version of myself and there’s no one else i’d rather spend the rest of my life with. so, will you marry me?”

“about time fleming!” you half sob, half laugh as you throw your arms around her neck “oh my god, of course i’ll marry you!”

you pull off her and she shakily puts the ring on your finger. cupping her face, you wipe her tears and tuck some hair behind her ears “i love you” you say as you kiss her hard.

jessie’s arms wrap around your waist and she begins to stand, taking you with her. she walks you back until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you sit down. jessie steps between your legs and breaks the kiss “i believe we have some plane tickets to buy”

you roll your eyes and bunch your fist up in the collar of her shirt “mhm later” you say lowly as you pull her down to your level to kiss her again “gotta show my fiancé how much i adore her”

——

you had booked your tickets that night and almost immediately began thinking of things you were going to be able to sell for some extra cash. now almost two months later, you’d still chosen to not to tell people that you were moving, or that you were engaged, and you’d been dodging your mother’s calls since that last conversation with her.

you knew she wouldn’t agree with you moving or marrying so young, despite how much she claimed she loved jessie, so the two of you thought it would be best to not even let her know until you were in london.

you put the money you got from selling your dresser into an envelope that you needed to take to the bank, and sigh “glad that’s done” you say as jessie walks into the kitchen.

her arm lazily wraps around her waist and she kisses your cheek “at least now we can just live out of boxes” she says as she hooks her chin over your shoulder.

your hand comes up to cup the side of her head “you make it sound ideal”

“well, now we know when we’ve packed too much”

“i’ve already gotten rid of so many of my clothes”

“and you’ve still got so many more” she says cheekily as she unwraps herself from you “don’t worry about it, if you don’t want to get rid of anything else we can ship some stuff up to my parent’s place and they can send it over when we get more settled”

you rub your face“it’s okay, there’s still some things that i’ve been meaning to get rid of. i really don’t want to take all of it”

“we’ve got a month before we leave. that’s enough time to sell whatever you want” she says as she puts her hand over your left “stop stressing. with our combined savings we’re going to be fine for a little while, and you’ve got that job lined up. there’s nothing to worry about”

you nod and turn fully to look at her, cupping her face in your hands “i know”

jessie raises an eyebrow “say it”

“we’re going to be fine” you sigh

jessie smiles as kisses you “yes we are”

[knowledgeabletrash]

I have so many feelings about the first Hunt and it’s aftermath from 2x08 & 09! Apologies for the word-vomit below this.

I never thought it would happen, but dare I say, Travis has become one of my favorite characters this season.

As an older sibling, I was right there with Travis these last two episodes. His guilt and grief in Storyteller hit very close to home for me and I just.

Right after the crash, everyone looked to Travis to take care of Javi, even when he was still trying to process the fact that he had just watched his father fall out of a fucking plane. He dug up his father’s rotting corpse in order to get a ring to help Javi grieve and remember their dad. He spent months walking 7 miles in every direction every day looking for Javi. And after all that, Javi still died. Not only did Travis lose his father, but now he’s lost his brother for the SECOND TIME. To make it worse, Javi was safe, he wasn’t picked! But then Travis decided to protect Natalie, and from the looks of it, he was ready to take her place; he threw himself in front of the door behind her and stood with a knife at his throat (for the second time oh my god these girls). I missed it before, but Travis looked to Javi and whispered his name after the Hunt went after Nat, he asked Javi to protect Natalie when he couldn’t. And doesn’t that make it so much worse? Up until then, Javi had been running away from the violence. Travis asked him to step up and take care of Natalie, someone they both grew to love. Javi became just like his big brother, and he died for it.

Side note: Travis is a better man than me because if that was my sister trust and believe I’d have done more than send them on a guilt trip, even if I was starving!! Not to soft quote Queen Ramonda here but HAS HE NOT GIVEN EVERYTHING?! His dad died while helping the girls put on their oxygen masks during the crash, Javi died so that the rest of them wouldn’t starve. His whole family died saving the Yellowjackets! Ben didn’t eat Jackie OR Javi and he’s still alive and kicking and burning down cabins, our girls SICK AND TWISTED (said with love). Even in the Donner Party, they made sure they ate in separate groups so that families would not have to eat each other or watch as their loved ones were eaten.

Anyway, I’ve seen a lot of people harping on Travis for telling Van that they should all be ashamed of what they did, and god it makes me so upset. Y’all can excuse hunting your friends and cannibalism but not a grieving teenage boy lashing out after the murder of his little brother??!! Like, the first thing Travis did when he saw his brother’s body was try to untie his hands because he’s not an animal he’s just a kid, and then cradled him like a baby, only to have his body taken from him moments later to be dismembered and butchered.

As the youngest of the survivors, Javi was someone who, by normal conventions, should have been protected by the rest of the group. Of course Travis needs them to be ashamed of what they did, he blames himself for Javi’s death just as much as he does then, if not more!! Travis was supposed to protect him and he failed him!!

I understand that Travis is not a fan favorite by a long shot and Van is one of the most popular characters in the show, which might be skewing the perception of this scene a bit, but I think the people who are dunking on Travis here are missing the point a little? Yes, Van gave him some brutal honesty and was well within her rights to do so. However!! Travis also gets to be pissed at the Yellowjackets. The fact is: they absolutely SHOULD be ashamed, but they’re not. They fully COULD HAVE saved Javi, but they didn’t. Javi was not the one who drew the card, but he died anyway. Why was Javi’s life worth less than Lottie’s, who might have died on her own? Because they liked her more? Because he was more expendable? No matter how much you justify it, Javi did not NEED to die. None of it was fair. That’s the point, that’s the tragedy of it all!

Lottie Matthews really dropped the thesis of the show: “Is there a difference?”

It doesn’t matter if there was some supernatural entity out there who “chose” Javi to die, it would have happened anyway. It’s much easier to stand by and watch a boy drown than to do the killing yourself. They were starving, he was there. Even if the Wilderness chose, the Yellowjackets chose, too.

Circling back a bit, I also want to talk about the difference between the two instances of cannibalism on this show: how they’re similar and different.

When Shauna and Travis discover their loved ones bodies (both frozen might I add), they assume very similar positions, kneeling by their heads and touching their faces. Both of their death’s were caused by the collective inaction of the rest of the group. The person who takes the first bite was the person who loved them most, thus giving permission to the others to eat and spurring on the feeding frenzy.

Jackie was an accident, Javi was on purpose. When Shauna found Jackie, she screamed and was in denial, trying to shake her awake. Travis was almost completely silent, only whispering “I’m sorry” and cradling Javi’s head in his lap. They held onto Jackie’s frozen corpse for months so Shauna could grieve her, but they took Javi away from Travis after what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. They ate Jackie whole like vultures, but they butchered Javi like an animal. The process of eating Jackie took a long time, almost three months from her death to consumption. Hell, she was slow roasted. With Javi though, “it all happened so fast” he was dead, cleaned, and eaten all within a few hours.

Shauna ate Jackie’s ear first. Jackie was driven into the cold by Shauna’s words. Travis ate Javi’s heart first. Javi went after Natalie because Travis loved her and because he loved Travis.

I’ve seen people say that the progression to the Hunt was too sudden and a result of bad writing but I’m going to have to disagree! Just from the parallels between Jackie and Javi’s deaths alone you can tell these writers know their shit. The Hunt has been teased since Doomcoming back in S1, the bloodthirsty side to the Yellowjackets has long been set up (Not!Tai eating Jackie’s face, Misty pushing Crystal, Shauna beating up Lottie). All season, we have seen various characters talking about eating another person multiple times (Misty and Crystal with the bone broth, Gen and Melissa about Crystal’s body, Mari and Misty both threatening Coach Ben), so they’ve had cannibalism on the brain for a while before they decided to Hunt. I’d go so far as to say the first signs of the Hunt were back in 1x01 with the girls icing out Allie for the greater good so they could win nationals. Them shunning Jackie solidified that the Yellowjackets were more than comfortable singling out and dehumanising one of their own, so long as the rest of the group deemed it necessary.

Cannibalism also is probably one of those things that gets easier the more you do it? Like they definitely would have Hunted and eaten Travis during Doomcoming if they had already taken the first step into cannibalism before then. Once they ate Jackie, all bets were off. The Wilderness “refusing” to let Lottie die was just a convenient excuse, they were hurdling headfirst into hunting their friends for sport looooong before then.

All this to say the Season 2 finale destroyed me and these are only Some of my thoughts about it. I’m not even TOUCHING the Natalie stuff yet.

[windwheeler-aster]

please, let me just take care of you

summary: your busy-bee of a partner suddenly gets sick, but is a little stubborn to accept your doting and care giving right away

masterlist

pairings (separate): mona, sucrose, and albedo x reader

reader info: uses gender neutral pronouns (they/them), is in a relationship with the characters mentioned, and reader is not traveler

word count: 578 words~ per section (2 mins each~)

genre: romance, reverse hurt/comfort

format: one shot

warnings: descriptions of characters being sick (no vomit or anything) and characters (mona) being anxious to get back to work

a/n: currently twirling my hair and kicking my feet while thinking about taking care of my s/o whilst there sick💖 hope you enjoy this💖

Mona feels unproductive while she’s stuck in bed with a cold. She always does whenever she’s sick, but especially now. 

Because right now, you’re bustling around in her poor excuse of a kitchen, making her a soup. Ever since she described her symptoms to you this morning, you’ve taken on the role as Mona’s personal nurse. You waited on her beck and call, serving her fresh, warm meals that surely cost you something. And you’re ever so sweet to her, giving her sweet smiles and making light conversation with Mona so her sick brain isn’t overwhelmed. 

And she hates it. 

Not because she hates you, but more so that she hates that she is being forced to rest. Rent’s due sometime soon, and she barely has enough for it. She knows Goth’s patience is wearing thin, and she can’t afford any other place in Mondstadt as of now. Mona needs to work, making mora through the many side jobs she’s picked up from the Adventurer’s Guild. She absolutely cannot be resting right now, you don’t understand—

“Mona, you better be back in bed when I turn around,” you called from the kitchen, your voice carrying to the front entrance, where Mona was now frozen in place. “I just made some chicken noodle soup for you, so you better be resting like I asked you to.”

She faltered, but relented and went back to bed. “You don’t have to do that, dear.”

You brought her soup with a smile. “I want to, though.”

Mona looked at you, her lips thinning out into a tight frown. “Why?”

“Because I love you?”

“Oh. Well,” her cheeks had turned a pretty pink now, “you don’t need to do this for me, dear. I’ve gotten by just fine before, I really don’t need to rest or stay in bed all day. So, please, just let me—”

“No.”

“No, dear, you don’t understand. I need to complete the—”

You shook your head again. “Mona, what you ‘need’ is to rest so you can be better later. I’m just trying to make sure my girlfriend is taken care of, alright?” you sighed and looked at her once more. “Please don’t be mad at me. I know that you need some mora, and I’ve told you multiple times—”

“You aren’t paying my rent,” Mona snapped, her tone more angry than she meant it to.

“I basically live here.”

“...No comment.”

You chuckled, which made Mona smile reluctantly.

“Alright, babe. Whatever you say,” you tell her. “How about I run a few errands for you? Just so you don’t get overwhelmed by tasks when you’re feeling good enough to do side jobs. Is that alright?”

Mona looked at you, analysing your features. No hidden intent, no mischievous smile. Just her cute partner, being as sincere as you can be in this moment. Nothing to indicate that you’ll hold this above her in the future. 

As if they ever would, she snapped at herself as she met your loving gaze.

She sighed. “Alright. But you better come back in one piece, my dear. It would be a shame if I had no one to take care of me.”

You kissed her temple, causing Mona to blush quite hard. “Of course, Mona.”

She was in shock for a moment, silently screaming and clutching her head in her hands at the loving action. Mona blames it on her illness for making her so flustered. As if she didn’t react like that every time you touched her, no matter how long you two had been together.

She heard the door open and snapped up, quick to yell her adorations to you in her signature fashion.

“I love you!” she stammered out, blushing a deep red when she heard the sounds of Mondstadt driftting in. “Be back soon, please.”

“Anything for you, babe!” you shout back, blowing her a kiss that sent her under the covers, flustered beyond belief. “Rest up, my star!”

And as the door shut behind you, Mona clutched her head under the blankets as her face grew impossibly warm. 

If it’s not this stupid sickness that’ll kill me, it’ll be them, she thinks.

Time management has never been one of Sucrose’s strengths.

Like sand in an hourglass, time slipped by her quickly. Sucrose didn’t mind though, as she found her work enjoyable. She got lost in conducting experiments and writing lab reports, passion and coffee being the only things that fuel her to work. 

But whilst in the middle of her work, Sucrose often forgets to take care of herself. She began to favor coffee over sleeping, staying extra late at the lab so she could complete some “last minute” work before she went home. The lunches you packed for her were left forgotten in her office until the next day, the smell being so pungent she could smell it the moment she enters the room. And don’t even try to ask Sucrose when was the last time she drank water, because she doesn’t know the answer herself.

With these working conditions Sucrose put herself through, it was only inevitable for her to get sick. 

You had to drag her back into bed when she tried to go to work, stuffed up nose and weary eyed. She was insistent that she was fine, despite the snot that threatened to dribble out of her nose. But after a convincing offer of some well deserved rest and relaxation, Sucrose reluctantly agreed.

“M’fine,” she grumbled, squinting up at you in bed. “Don’t worry about me.”

You felt her forehead and chewed your lip in worry. “You’re hot.”

Sucrose pulled the covers up to her head, whining beneath the covers. “Don’t tease me when I’m sick!” You saw her pretty amber eyes and smirked. “Stop that!”

“Oh, you know I didn’t mean it that way,” you frowned. But then you perked up and grinned, “but I will say, you do look really—“

“Ah! That’s enough out of you,” Sucrose interjected, furrowing her brows.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you cooed. You bent down and hugged her through the covers. “I’m just speaking the truth, y’know?”

“Argh, cut it out! My brain’s all mushy gushy already,” she complained. “Don’t need you to make me all mushy and gushy, too.”

You chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll go easy on ya, deal?”

Sucrose let the covers down to her chin and nodded. Her face was flushed pink. She shuddered underneath the covers and bundled up more, making your heart tighten. Poor thing, is all you can think as you caress her cheek.

Sucrose nuzzled into your hand, her eyelashes fluttering close. “Mm, honey?”

“Yes?”

“You’re… you’re not mad at me, right?”

You frowned. “Mad at you? Angel, what for?”

Sucrose looked away from you and mumbled, “For not taking care of myself. I know you have better things to do—”

“—than take care of my sick girlfriend? Nonsense.” You leaned down and gave her temple a quick peck. “Don’t fret your pretty little head over that, angel. Now, get some sleep for me, okay?”

Sucrose nodded slowly, turning over to sleep on her preferred side. “Okay. I’ll try.”

You smiled and got up to leave, already planning some sort of dish that could help Sucrose feel better.

“Wait!”

You turned around and looked at her. Sucrose had sat up in bed quickly, still clutching onto the covers of your shared bed. 

“I just wanted to say thank you for doing all this,” she said. “And… and I love you, a lot.”

Your heart sped up quickly, urging you to run over to her and kiss her all over her cute face. But instead, you take a deep breath and lean on the door’s frame for a moment. 

“I love you a lot, too, Sucrose. Now, get some rest.”

Time and time again, Albedo tried to reassure you that he couldn’t get sick. He’s made out of limestone, for goodness sake! There is no way he could possibly be ill, Dragonspine’s freezing weather conditions be damned. So, really, there is absolutely no reason to worry your pretty little head over your boyfriend.

Until there is, in the form of Albedo greeting you with a pair of rosy cheeks and a sniffy nose after spending a week in Dragonspine alone. 

He’s more than aware that his current state is… quite pitiful, safe to say. As soon as he landed on your doorstep, you practically cradled him into your arms and swaddled him in blankets. The whole experience was infantilizing and slightly frustrating, as Albedo kept wanting to assure you he would be fine. Though, he would like to secretly admit that this feeling of being pampered wasn’t too bad, after all.

“Good morning, love,” you greeted from the doorway to your shared bedroom. You nudged the door open with your foot, smiling bright when you saw your boyfriend snuggled up into bed, begrudgingly.

“Good morning,” he mumbled. He raised his brow at the tray you carried. “What’s that?”

You sat down, gently, on the bed and placed it on Albedo’s lap, once he sat up. “Your breakfast. I made sure to make you something that’ll warm you up from the inside out.”

He gave you a strange look, as though he was analysing your actions. It almost made your heart sink.

“What’s that look for?” you asked, sheepishly.

Albedo blinked and then blushed, suddenly realising he was caught up in staring at you. “Sorry. I was just expecting a cheeky ‘I told you so.’”

“Oh,” you sighed, furrowing your brow as you recounted the many times you nagged at him to stay warm whilst away in Dragonspine. “Well, believe it or not, I’m not as petty as you think I am.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

You pecked his cheek and smiled. “I know. Don’t worry about silly things like that, alright? I want you to rest up and feel better, love.”

“I’ll try.”

You gave him a warning look.

“I will,” he corrected himself, quickly. “I’ll rest after I eat breakfast.”

You smiled, titling your head up in victory. “Good. Now, I’ll just be in the other room. If you need anything, just call me. Okay, Albedo?”

He nodded, his focus now on pushing his food around on the plate. “Yes, dear. Thank you for this meal.”

“Anything for you, my love,” you winked at him. “Now, eat up. You need all the energy you can get.”

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

[ilovepapahet]

Sweetheart

Chapter Seven

Your wasting your tongue with your excuses and lies

Warnings: Alcohol, smoking, drugs, mentions of sex, vomiting

Let me know if I missed anything

————————————————————————

After a few days of exhaustion from work you were home, you could now sit back a relax with your cat. You hung out with Kirk yesterday… or well went out with him. Not in a date way just a friend way nothing more. He told you he talked about you to his friends. They thought you seemed cool and would love to meet you.

Kirk said his best friend would especially love to meet you, but warned you before he’s the kinda guy that fucks any girl who looks his way or seems like his type.

You laughed because he reminded you of Lars. Always infatuated with the girls telling you all the time, “I think she likes me”.

God he was too much. You put a movie on and snacked on some chips, you loved this you needed this. You were gonna call Dave but he had a date with the girl he had been talking with. You didn’t mind.. you finally had peace and quiet. Then your door bell goes off.. fuck off. You get up off the couch with a groan, people show up at the worst time… or the worst people show up. You open the door expecting Kirk or a delivery guy who got the wrong house, nothing out of the ordinary.

You open the door and see… what the actual fuck. Lars. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops for a quick second.

“Lars?! How’d you find me how’d-“ your cut off quick with a suffocating hug from Lars, you could practically feel your ribs crack from the squeeze. “Lars… you’re hurting me”.

He quickly pulls away and brush’s you off “Sorry sorry sorry”. He looks a little different from the last time you’d seen him. “What are you doing here?” You step outside and close the door now at eye level with him.

He picks at the skin of his fingers, a few scars faint from playing the drums. “I… I wanted to apologize”.

You’re a bit taken aback, but nonetheless let him continue. “I wanted to apologize for everything… everything I’ve done” he was a bit shaky with his words being careful with them.

“I was an asshole.. and you were hurt. You didn’t deserve that and due to my selfishness I lost a friend.. my best friend my sister”. His words hung in the air not in a bad way, but nor in good way. You’re kinda neutral.

“You don’t have to forgive me I just want you to know that I’m sorry.. I’m not apologizing just so I can consider myself a good person, I’m apologizing because I fucked up” he paused for a second “I just want you to know how sorry I am and I’ll regret for the rest of my life”.

He looked at you his hands shook with anxiety, overthinking that you’d turn him away.

You didn’t know how to feel or what to say or do, you just sat there looking stupid and so did he. The silence was painful and awkward you both just standing there looking at each dumbfounded.

You wanted to slam the door in his face and never see him again, but another part of you wanted to welcome him in and to regain that trust and an old friendship. Without thinking you opened your door and stepped aside to let him in. What were you doing? What the fuck are you thinking?

With a sigh you spoke “… Come in” you were probably going to regret this.

Lars hesitated for a second before walking forward taking his shoes and leaving them at the door. He looked around your house taking everything in, Phoenix’s tail puffed up at seeing Lars obviously spooked by the stranger in his home he scurried off to some part of the house. “You got a cat” Lars spoke softly not knowing what else to say.

You shut the door slowly, “Yeah… wanted some company”. Lars nodded his head “What’s its name?”.

“Phoenix”, “Cool”. The awkward silence was there again. “You never answered my question” you looked up at him.

“What was it?”

“How’d you find me.. did dad tell you?”

Lars took at deep breath “No.. no he didn’t. Uh Kirk told me actually”

You’d probably beat the shit out of Kirk if only he knew you both knew each other, but that’s for another day. “Oh.. I guess you were the friend he was telling me about”, “Yeah I guess so”.

You had so many questions for Lars but couldn’t word them, too much was running through your mind. “Have you been holding up ok?…. I worry about you a lot”, your heart broke at his words.

He still worries about you despite everything he, always has though. You could now fully understand how he was so sorry for what he did and you wanted to sob in his arms and tell him how much you missed him and how you regret cutting him out of your life. “I could be better” you sigh out. Lars chuckled lightly “couldn’t agree more”.

You both sat down on the couch and talked for what felt like years, Lars has a habit of talking to much it was probably his anxious nerves that were making him talk more than he already did. Could you blame him though? You told Lars everything that had been going on with your life after you left and asked him about Dave and why he kicked him out like he did. Lars listened to everything you had to say like he used to, not him cutting you off to tell you something that you probably couldn’t give two shits about. After talking Lars’s ear off he asked you a question, “Do you still think about James?”.

You kinda expected the question you weren’t to irritated by it “No” you lied. “I don’t think about him at all” that was such a big fuckin lie. You thought about him a lot because of the dreams you’ve been having.

“That’s fair” Lars nodded understandably.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wanted to know… Cause he still thinks about you”

It came as a shock to you that James still thought about you. Really? After everything he put you through? Sure he most likely didn’t play victim you knew he wouldn’t but it still surprised you.

“Really? I thought he was done with me completely”

Lars let out a long sigh “Yeah same. I thought he wouldn’t care anymore mostly because he broke up with you. Although he doesn’t admit it he kinda just will bring you up then drop it quickly”

This was still a lot for you to take in. Lars just randomly showing up, you finding out that Kirk was the new bandmate of Metallica technically Dave’s replacement and that James of all people still thinks about you. You should also probably tell Lars you saw Cliff. At least you and Cliff didn’t end off on bad terms.

“He really isn’t the same after the breakup” Lars admitted.

despite you wanting to know you knew you shouldn’t ask, it be better if you dropped the topic and changed it to something else. “Oh.. ok” you say sheepishly.

“I really think you should maybe-“ you cut him off knowing what he’s going to say “No no, I’m not going to talk to him”.

“But-“

“No Lars” you say firmly.

Lars let’s got a sigh knowing you’ll never talk to him again, he didn’t blame you of course he feels bad but he just wishes you’d change your mind.

You both sat there in awkward silence for a big before he asked you a question and you replied starting up a normal conversation, just like you both used to. You both talked for hours about you lived new interests if you had any new boyfriends or if Lars had any new girlfriends. Lars told you that everyone is now making their own money, enough to move out of the small old moldy home they all used to live in.

It made you happy and all the stories Lars was telling you of all of them being in that house. From what Lars was telling you is that it’s basically just him and Cliff left as that house, James is slowly moving out and Kirk was the first to leave. He still doesn’t know how.

Later that night Lars brought up James again. “I really do think you should talk to James”. “Lars please” you sigh closing your eyes in frustration.

“Please hear me out”

“Lars I don’t want to talk about him”

“He’s been getting worse”

Those four words got your attention quickly “What do you mean? He’s been getting worse”. There’s a hint on concern laced in your voice, you can’t help but worry about him. Theres sometimes drawing you to him.

“How is he getting worse?”

“He’s been drinking a lot more, more than usual I slowly started noticing it about a month ago”. Goddamnit Lars you genuinely thought he was drinking more after the break up not from a month ago. You were still worried about him but you could just be overthinking.

“Oh Lars than if it’s just from a month ago than I think he’s ok” you try to reassure him, but in full honesty you can’t tell if your trying to reassure Lars or yourself.

“I think I should probably head on my way though” Lars said standing up “I’ll spend the night at Kirk’s than go home tomorrow”.

“Alright” you stand up with him “it was nice seeing you Lars really.. it’s been awhile”.

Lars smiled at you “Yeah.. it’s nice seeing my sister again”.

————————————————————————

yay chapter 7 is done I hope you all enjoyed it there is still more to come, I’ll try my hardest to get the chapters out faster

@metalupyourass699

[beeshoesometimesdraws]

I need to hear more about genral lore or other gods

I'm so invested in this that you can't even imagine XD

Hehehhee thank you for giving me an excuse to word vomit

Also I know my style changes every time I’ve drawn the gods (as it does every time I draw any dca related thing-) but I think I’ve found a design/style I like at least for the gods so all the drawings below will be more consistent because of it (also used a more sketchy lineart here because these were supposed to just be quick doodles but that didn’t work- and then I ended up liking the brush lol)

Putting stuff under the cut so this isn’t too long for people just tryna scroll:

I’ve already introduced Lune, Scorch, and Alpenglow but there are several other gods (as well as others I am still brainstorming)

Starting off with one of the…let’s say “highest ranking” gods, Equinox

Equinox is the god of balance and connection, always making sure the natural balance of the world is as it should be. So in other words, they have a very big job though thankfully they have helpers :)

The twins, Aphelion and Perihelion

Aphelion is responsible for the night and the moon’s cycle whilst Perihelion is responsible for the day and the sun. They are the closest to Equinox, being their helpers and children.

They are also two of the youngest gods (“young” still being centuries old compared to any mortal)

I think I’ve mentioned him once before, Sanguine (aka Bloodmoon) the god of wrath and war and the personification of the pain and bloodshed caused by such things.

He’s also one of the more powerful of the gods given how often mortals war with each other and resort to wrath. He’s been prayed to and worshipped for all the wrong reasons before, similar to Scorch, though unlike Scorch he’s not as inclined to answer those prays for his own enjoyment.

The “main protagonist” of this au is Harvest, the god of agriculture and abundance and one of the younger gods (being only a few centuries older than Aphe and Peri)

Harvest is of course very popular with farmers and other crop-growers, being the most powerful and prominent during the harvesting seasons in the summer and fall.

There are others not mentioned here, I only chose some of the ones more important to the plot/story of the au (aka my favorites <3)

And as for lore…. (TW for mild gore + body horror)

-

:)

[welldonebeca]

it's a Bad Idea, right? (13)

WC: 1.4k words Warnings: Mafia AU. Secret identity au. Fluff. Flirting. A/N: I’ve never been to Coney Island, so excuse any inaccuracies to the experience.

Masterlist

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and I promise you won’t regret it.

Betty tried her very best to keep the grumpy look from her face as Steffan took her hand and pulled her right inside the park.

“I took the liberty of stopping by during the week to her our cards full of credits,” he told her, smiling like a little boy.

Oh, Steffan looked so excited, like he was about to jump out of his shoes and over everyone to guide her along.  Apparently, he had a whole plan ready in his mind – and who was she to diverge from it?

Betty squeezed his hand, looking around. The place wasn’t packed, but it wasn’t empty either, and there were obviously lines to the rides.

“Where do you want to go?” she asked him.

Steffan scanned around, his hand firmly on hers.

“What about the Cyclone?” he asked, turning to look at her, and his pretty blue eyes were twinkling. “It is the best ride around.”

Betty turned where she had pointed and grimaced.

That… that looked like a really tall ride.

And old.

How old was the roller coaster?

“The cyclone?” she asked slowly.

Steffan followed her eyes.

“I remember riding it as a kid,” he told her, sounding very excited. “Well, the first time I did, I got really sick from all the tossing and turning and vomited my whole breakfast.”

And that was certainly not a reassuring statement.

"How old is this thing?" she asked, squeezing his hand more. Was that... made of wood?

"I think it's turning one hundred soon," Steffan answered, tugging her along as they started walking to the line.

Her blood pooled in her belly. Okay, so she was hiding from hate crimes and was going to risk her life on an ancient roller-coaster? Oh, Mum would kill her if she knew she was there.

"Elżbieta, I didn't raise you to go into those killing machines!" she would say.

“I don’t know,” Betty looked at the line. “Are you sure?”

It was a really short line. It wasn’t time enough for her to mentally prepare herself.

At last, Steffan turned to look at her fully, and looked at her with soft eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She shifted on her feet, feeling her hands sweating.

“I don’t want to get upside down,” she mumbled. “And I don’t feel like dying in a hundred-year-old ride.”

He gave her a soft smile, and Betty felt her face burning a bit.

She probably sounded so ridiculous, right? Being a grown woman, so afraid of a little roller-coaster.

He raised her hand, kissing her knuckles gently.

“If it helps at all,” Steffan spoke softly. “I don’t think anyone has died in it. And it’s practically a hundred-year-old thing.

Betty shook her head, chuckling nervously.

“Are you sure I’m not going to break their luck strike?” she tried to argue.

He raised his eyebrows and shook her head, wrapping his arms around her, and she rested her chin on his chest as he kissed her forehead.

“We don’t have to go,” he assured her, his arms a comfortable embrace. “There are more rides that aren’t so high.”

“Are there?” she asked, eyeing the towering structures around them.

They certainly all looked like they were all very, very high.

Steffan chuckled and took her hand again.

"Come on," he urged, giving a gentle tug to leave.

And Betty hesitated for a moment, torn between his enthusiasm and her apprehension. This day meant a lot to him, and he had gone through the trouble of planning it just for her.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"Are you sure there was no death?" Betty asked, her eyes searching his face for reassurance.

He looked at her with the softest little smile.

“Not that I’ve ever heard of,” he assured her.

Betty breathed in an out.

Alright, then.

“Fine,” she told him. “Let’s go in the cyclone.”

Steffan's face lit up with a big smile, resembling a little boy eager to jump into the ride, and Betty held his hand as they waited in line, trying to suppress the little tremor running through her and making her legs shake.

As they reached the boarding area, Steffan turned to her, enthusiasm radiating from every little pore of his body.

"Let’s get in the back," he suggested, pointing at the carts. "That way, you won't have to look at the drops."

Her eyes widened a bit. Wasn’t the back the hardest when it came to moving?

"Oh, fuck," she muttered under her breath, her heart thundering in her chest.

But Steffan's was so eager, she could only nod and agree with him.

They sat on the last role, and she put her handbag down between her legs, to hold it in place.

She held onto Steffan’s hand as tightly as she could as the park employee closed the carts, and grabbed the steal bar in front of her with the hand she didn’t have practically crushing his bones.

He was so big and strong that a little hand squeeze was nothing - had to be nothing. 

To Betty’s luck – or not – everything really seemed to be made of wood.

Was that wood 1900s wood? Was it 2000s wood?

That wood could have been there since before her grandparents existed.

She took in a deep breath and gasped when the cart started walking, seeing the walls and place covered with warning signs.

‘Last warning. Remain seated and do not rest head on lap bar’.

Good thing she didn’t think of doing that. The idea of her head on the iron bar did not sound smart at all.

‘Last warning. Remain seated and hold hand bars at all times.’

Was it a rule or a suggestion?

But the cart kept moving, and she couldn’t help closing her eyes when they started moving up, her belly filling up with butterflies.

Oh shit, no way back.

Steffan tugged on her hand.

“You’re going to miss the view entirely, liebchen,” he whispered into her ear. “Open your eyes.”

Betty let out an outright whine.

“It’s too tall,” she confessed in a hushed tone.

He kissed he cheek.

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured her softly. “I’m right here. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

She felt her lip curling in an involuntary pout.

Stupid big German man making her feel stupid soft.

“Do you promise?” Betty insisted.

He chuckled softly.

“I do,” Steffan insisted. “Go on.”

She tightened her legs together, afraid something would fly off – and of something else - and opened her eyes, and seeing the four flags waving at the top, with a last warning for people to remain seated.

Was that the… was the French flag?

His hand squeezed hers a little more, and she turned to look right at him. The view was indeed incredibly beautiful. She could see the Ferris Wheel, the entirety of the park from up there, and the beach—a beautiful beach.

She grabbed the bar right away when they started falling, squeezing his hand, and Steffan laughed aloud.

In a second, they were going up and down and sideways, and she was sent in every possible direction there was to be tossed – aside from upside down – and she couldn’t even help herself from screaming past the second drop.

It was a bit cathartic, the feeling of screaming.

So she did, as loud as she could, as hard as she could – and she held onto the bar, ignoring how everyone else was raising their hands. This rule she wouldn’t cross, no.

The ride last just two minutes, maybe less, but at the end of it Betty was having the most fun of her life, and she was the one to come out of it skipping and giggling, absolutely elated as they stepped out, and looked out at the line.

Oh, it was so short!

“Do you want to go again?”

But when she looked at her side, Steffan was bent on the side and in front of a garbage can, and her mood was gone.

Oh, no!

Betty ran to him, putting a hand on his back, and thankfully the can was empty – someone had probably just taken the trash out.

“Okay, maybe not,” she patted his back.

Steffan’s face became pink in embarrassment, and she tried to keep her amused smile to herself, picking up some paper tissues from her handbag and giving it to him, and let him clean himself as she waited, patting his back softly.

“I’m sorry,” Steffan groaned. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why this happened.”

She just gave him a soft smile. Well, who never got nauseous in a ride before?

“It happens,” she assured him. “Maybe we should stop for some water and… do something else?”

He looked at her, and his baby blue eyes were so disappointed.

Oh, her poor… date?

Wait, were they dating officially?

They’d been to a few dates. Well, no. This was, officially, their second date.

But they had met in date-like circumstances a lot.

Was he her boyfriend? Betty didn’t know.

He chuckled sadly,

“I thought I’d be able to get through the Thunderbolt before any of us got sick,” he told her. “And I was hoping it wasn’t me.”

Betty giggled, reaching for his clothes and delicately adjusting them.

No, no Thunderbolt for her.

“How about the bumper cars?” she offered. “And then the arcade. Winner picks dinner.”

His eyes softened a bit more, and she took Steffan’s hand, squeezing it and tugging him.

“Come on,” she told him. “Let’s get you some water.”

He was right, they were going to have a really cool day.

…

“it’s a Bad Idea, right?” was posted on my Patreon in September 2023. To have early access to it (and lots of other stories), consider subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month, and I know you won’t regret it!

…

Bad Idea: @peaceloveancolor

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

May I request a BG3 matchup?

30; afab agender; rampantly bisexual. Medical lab tech (not the cool kind), about to start grad school for forensic biology. I collect postcards and preserved specimens, and raise tarantulas + other bugs. Enjoy making nature journals, birdwatching, puzzles, music, theatre, museums, analyzing horror media, building models, working with clay, writing, reading, and board games (though I get a bit too competitive). Great in the kitchen. Autistic/ADHD. Get sensory overloaded easily. Love meeting people but mostly wish I could exist invisibly and not speak. Chronic pain limits physical activities. Most content during stormy days with candles and coffee, baking or doing a jigsaw puzzle with the windows open and music playing. Think I'm unattractive and obnoxious. OCD + bipolar dictate a lot of my brain. Tendency to word vomit and have difficulty articulating off of paper. Complain a lot and can be passive aggressive. But also like to see people happy and taken care of, and want to leave things better than I find them when possible.

A/N: Alright Tarantula Anon, since you mentioned you’re bisexual, but didn’t state a gender preference, I’ve picked out the best matches- one male and one female for you.

Your best Baldur’s Gate 3 Matches would be Astarion (Male) and Minthara (Female)!

➶ Astarion is also a character I would characterize as “rampantly bisexual” (or pansexual to be more specific in his case lol). Gender presentation isn’t something he factors into attractiveness. If he likes you, he likes you. If he thinks you’re hot, he thinks you’re hot, etc. You get the idea.

Being an immortal vampire, Astarion knows a thing or two about biology. Mainly about how to remain undetected among the human population. In the game, he explains how he never smells like a typical vampire or vampire’s den because he makes a point to scent himself with a mix of fragrances. And while he may not be a medical professional, he’s certainly had his fair share of anatomy lessons, be it distant viewings at the food of Cazador, from the many creatures he’s been forced to seduce. It’s not an exact equivalent, but I do believe he would be fascinated by the kind of work you do regarding live and preserved specimens.

And while I don’t think he’s a bug person (mainly because they were his one source of nutrition for so many years), I think he could be taught to appreciate them over time. Perhaps you could show him how all creatures, even small ones, are incredibly unique and have their own role within our vast universe. It’s humbling to think we are all so incredibly tiny and yet vastly important to the people around us.

There’s so much he’s missed out on experiencing, I think he’d quite like doing any of those activities with you: birdwatching, solving puzzles, listening to music, going to the theater or the museum, tinkering, making ceramics, writing, or reading, or playing board games… Anything! Everything! He especially enjoys the competitive nature of your games. He finds he quite likes the feeling of winning, and he plans on doing it more often. Don’t worry though, he’ll play fair. Well, fair for him, anyway.

He cannot eat so he doesn’t get to fully appreciate your kitchen prowess. But he does enjoy helping you cook. It’s strangely comforting for him to do something so domestic. It’s in moments like those, that he can see the rest of your lives together playing out.

Similarly to you, Astarion loves meeting new people. Or at least he thinks he does. So much of his extroversion was a facade, he’s not certain what part of his people skills are him and which parts were survival. So he needs time in between, away from crowds and strangers to calm down and recharge. He’s grateful that you often tug him away, reminding him to excuse the two of you before either one of you gets too overwhelmed.

He may not be a magic user, but he does what he can to support you in managing your chronic pain. He’ll get Halsin or Shadowheart or even Gale to lessen some of your symptoms. He doesn’t try to cure your condition, nor does he expect you to cure his. However, if finding a more permanent solution to your pain is something you’d want, he’s more than ready to take that journey with you.

He doesn’t think for a second that you’re obnoxious. And trust him on that. He’s met some of the most obnoxious, overwhelmingly annoying magistrates and lords in his first life. He assures you constantly: that you are nothing like them. You’re smart and kind and beautiful. Even if you can’t see it, he sees it for you. Astarion knows what it’s like to live with a body (and by extension a brain) that tells you you’re never good enough. There are still moments when he can’t see himself in a mirror for example, when he thinks of himself as a monster. He’s so grateful you’re there to comfort him and tell him otherwise.

His favorite thing in the world is to cuddle with you next to a large bay window, watching nighttime thunderstorms roll in, a book in his lap and you beside him.

☾ Minthara is often characterized as closed-off and cold. Which you could argue is true. Or you could see it as her being logical, and protective of herself and her heart. She is a drow, and by nature, well accustomed to the more gruesome side of human nature. She feels at home surrounded by macabre, whereas others may be disturbed. I think she’d find your work fascinating. And spiders are something she knows a lot about. Drows and spiders go hand in hand. She sees tarantulas as the perfect pet, they’re small enough to be contained but large enough to have personalities and be something incredible to watch.

She especially enjoys reading horror stories with you or visiting theaters or museums with horror exhibits. Perhaps one about ancient methods of torture- now that would tickle her fancy. And she appreciates your wit and candor when it comes to playing games or solving puzzles with you. So few people treasure such traits in a companion, but not her. She knows how important it is to have a discerning significant other, especially if you are going to be spending any time in the Underdark with her, where being perceptive is a must for survival. She loves your cooking. As a drow noble, she was familiar with the concepts of fancy feasts and indulgent desserts. However, due to her position, she could never truly enjoy them, for fear of being poisoned by enemies. With you doing the meal-making, she doesn't have to worry about that anymore.

Unlike you, however, Minthara is not that fond of meeting other people. She much prefers the two of you keep to yourselves unless otherwise necessary. People are tiring, and so often unimportant. She sees no need to waste her time and social graces on them. You’re the one she loves. If she’s going to do something with anyone or make an effort, it’s going to be for you and you alone.

She used to think admitting pain was weak, now however, she knows it takes an inner as well as outer strength. She will go to whatever length to ensure your comfort. Simply say the word and she will get it for you. In seeing your survival, Minthara has developed a great admiration for you as a person, seeing how resilient you are. That being said, she will not tolerate you speaking poorly of yourself. You are wonderful. You are strong in mind and spirit. You are intelligent and wise. You are gorgeous. You mean everything to her. She will not hear you put yourself down. She would not choose an unworthy mate, so do not think for a second that you are not deserving of her love and affection.

But by all means, do complain. The world can be so frivolous and pedestrian. She enjoys having someone who not only accepts hearing her own complaints but joins in with their own as well. You can be passive-aggressive in your grievances because she is extremely direct. If something bothers you, she’ll simply ask you if you wish her to kill it. And no she doesn’t care if that’s morally wrong, because for you, she would move heaven and earth if it made you happy.

She is fiercely loyal and now that she is your loving partner, you cannot shake her. She is utterly and wholly devoted to you.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Let's delay our misery

AN: This fic was written for @sweeterthanthis Bittersweet Symphony Challenge (and yes I’m down to the wire with it!) I chose the prompt “So take this wine and drink with me, Let's delay our misery”. I’ve subverted the theme of forbidden romance slightly as, while our reader and Frank do something they shouldn’t, it isn’t them having the forbidden romance. But I hope you like it Lau! All aboard the angst train!

Beta’d by @lfnr-blog-blog-blog

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Moodboard/Banner by me

Masterlist

Relationship(s): Reader x Husband!Matt Murdock, Frank Castle x Karen Page, Matt Murdock x Karen Page, Reader x Frank Castle

Word count: 2k

CW: Cheating, Angst, excessive alcohol consumption, vomit, Drunken sex (not explicit), the odd fluffy moment amongst the heartbreak, no happy ending, but maybe a hopeful one. Alternate Universe (no one is a vigilante)

The bile rose in your throat, threatening to escape your mouth and all over the hardwood floor of the bar you were in. Why Frank had invited you to a public place to drop this bombshell, you didn’t know. Maybe he thought it would help you to control your reaction?

“How long, Frank? How long has it been going on?” It took all your control to keep your voice level.

You turned your glassy gaze at your husband’s best friend, who looked back at you with an expression of mixed pain and pity.

“And how long have you known?”

His large, calloused hand reached out to cover your own. You looked down at the table, and marvelled at how it didn’t feel like your hand. You felt disconnected from reality, apart from the all encompassing pain in your chest. Was this your heart breaking?

“I’ve known for two days, sweetheart. Two days in which I’ve agonised about what to do. Whether to tell you or not. Whether to confront one or both of them. Then when Karen told me they were having to stay overnight in Jersey for this latest case, I knew I had to tell you. Then we can work out what to do, together.”

Despite your resolution, you couldn’t stop the silent tear rolling down your cheek.

“Aaww, fuck. Come ‘ere.” Frank pulled you to him. The soft cotton of his shirt rubbed up against your face, the familiar scent of him, that you’d never really dwelled on before, filling your nose. He was Frank. Your husband Matt’s best friend.

Matt worked at a small law firm, with his friend’s Foggy and Karen. Frank was a PI. and had been pulled into one of their cases. He hit it off with all of them, especially Karen and they’d gotten married within the year. You’d met Matt when he’d pulled your distracted ass back from the edge of the sidewalk, stopping you from getting pancaked by a drug-driver. The pair of you had gotten married 9 months after Frank and Karen. It was always the four of you. Group holidays, summer cookouts, theatre trips that made the boys groan. The four Musketeers. 

But it was all gone. Blown up and destroyed. Because Karen and Matt were having an affair. Frank had invited you out to the bar tonight, not an uncommon occurrence when both your spouses were out of town on work.

Ha!

On “work”.

Was there actually work to be done, or was the whole weekend just an excuse for them to have some time together. You could feel the bile rising again.

“Nope. Don’t go there, sweets.” He rubbed his hand up and down your arm. “Come on, you wanna get drunk? You and I are never miserable when we’re drunk together.”

You let a sound that was part chuckle and part sniff, from your safe place in Frank’s embrace. “Yeah, we’re always the last ones standing. Think we can still go til dawn?”

He eased you away so he could brush his knuckle against the underside of your chin. “I’m game if you are! Pick your poison.”

You gave him a watery smile and swiped at your eyes with your sweater covered arm. “Oh it’s on, Castle. Shots. First to barf pays for the cab home.”

So you drank. And danced. And drank. And played pool. You lost the contest, you always did. There was no way you could out-drink Frank, but every time you swore that this time you’d manage it. But after your inelegant dash to the washroom and the support of the random drunk women that are always present, you rinsed your mouth, (vaguely) fixed your make-up and headed back out to continue. Frank smiled his charming, wonky smile at you and placed another shot in your hand. You smiled back and clinked your glass against his.

Frank helped you out of the cab, and you fisted his jacket for support, singing all the while.

“SAVE TONIGHT! WE’LL FIGHT THE BREAK OF DAWN! SOMETHING SOMETHING! I WANT TO WATCH SOME PORN!”

Frank chuckled in your ear as he fished your keys out of your purse.

“I’d forgotten how flirty and horny you get when you’re drunk, sweets.” He opened the door on his third try and somehow steered you through it, bouncing himself off the doorframe twice.

You grinned, closed one eye for focus, and with your index finger, pressed his nose.

“Boop! You’re such a good man Frank. Unlike that lousy Matt. Stupid Matt.” A frown made its way across your features as you dropped down on your couch. “I loved Matt. But he doesn’t love me.”

“Nope, nope, baby girl. Come on. Cause if you get sad, I’m gonna get sad, and ain’t no one want to see that.” He half collapsed down next to you, and  pressed a sloppy kiss to your forehead.

“Aaaawww, you kissed me, Frankie!” You giggled and started to sing again. “Me ‘n’ Frankie, sitting in a tree. F U C K I N G.”

His massive hand was suddenly covering your mouth, trying to halt your saucy rhyme. “Wow, your mood is swinging both ways. But d’ya gotta be so vulgar, sweets?”

You giggled behind your makeshift gag and then licked his palm. He let out an “Eew!” and drew his hand away, scrubbing it down his jeans. You turned to face him and ended up half on top of him.

“I’ve always been like this, and you know it. Why you gotta be so warm?” You rubbed your face against his t-shirt like a cat. He laughed and you felt the rumble in his chest.

“Cos I’m hot stuff, sweets and you know it.”

You sat up and gave him a shove. “So humble!”

Frank sniffed dramatically, and gave you a poke back in the shoulder. “‘S not my fault you don’t appreciate my masculine allure.”

You snorted. “Married, but not dead. I can still window shop…hey!”

He pulled you back into a cuddle.

“So you thought about it then, sweets? Thought about me?” A part of your drink-addled brain was trying to wave red flags at you. This was not a conversation you ought to be having when the pair of you were drunk and feeling betrayed. You shooed the thought away.

Frank was silent for a moment, just absentmindedly stroking up and down your back, and then he spoke again, his voice quiet this time. “Thought ‘bout you too. But we’re the good ones, ain’t we, sweets. We’re the ones who look but don’t touch. Cos we respect our vows.”

You could feel the change in atmosphere. It was as though you were both on the cusp of something. Both of you knew what it was, but it was going to come down to who voiced it first. 

Which turned out to be you. You started to trail a finger over Frank's thigh, the fingernail catching on the thick denim of his jeans.

“What if I don’t want to be good no more, Frankie? What if I wanna touch and be disrespectful? They started it? Why should we feel bad?”

You tipped your head back so you could look at him, his half-closed brown eyes looking at you with warmth and affection.

“I’d say that, right now, in this moment, I feel the same.”

You both moved and your lips connected gently.

It should have felt wrong. He was your friend. Your husband's best friend. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You revelled in the feeling of a different pair of lips on your. Rougher than you were used to. It was… tantalising. The little devil on your shoulder asked you what else would be different about him. You pushed up onto your knees, but refused to break your connection. With your hands resting on his impressive chest - you’d noticed, you were only human - you threw your leg over his lap and sat down, straddling him. Frank’s hands slid up your back instinctually and the kiss deepened. 

You were both hurt, both lonely and both drunk. That’s what you told yourself in the morning but, in the here and now, there was just need. A need to stick your middle fingers up at the world in general and Matt and Karen in particular. 

Clothes were shed and more kisses were exchanged. Kisses that turned into sighs and moans. Nails clutched, fingers and mouths and tongues explored. There was no finesse, but neither of you were looking for that. There was sweat and saliva, bites and scratches, all slightly out of focus, and then there was nothing. 

“Uuurrrggghhh.”  God! Whatever you’d drunk last night tasted awful. You stretched out your arms and… why was one feeling carpet and the other a broad thick chest… Noooo!

You sat up with a start, your head reeling and your stomach lurching at the sudden movement. “Oh fuck…” You turned and retched into the plant pot, conscious of Frank’s naked and slumbering body on the floor next to you.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and just stared at him incredulously… and Jesus Christ! You grabbed a pillow and dropped it on his crotch, and then pulled the throw off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around yourself. Bringing your hand up to your mouth you started to chew on your thumb nail.

This was bad. Really bad. Two wrongs didn’t make a right. And Frank was your friend.

Your stomach flipped and if there had been anything left in it, it would have come up.

Frank stirred and sat up, one hand clutching his head and only one eye open. He looked down at the green fabric square in his lap and over at you wrapped in matching wool.

“Mornin’, sweets. Think we got a bit carried away last night, huh?”  You just stared back, open-mouthed. A look of concern came over Frank’s face and he extended his hand out towards you. “Woah, you okay?” You shook your head and shuffled away, out of his reach, looking down at the floor. From the corner of your eye you could see his dejected expression and it made you feel awful.

“It was a mistake, Frank. We were drunk and upset, but it shouldn’t have happened.” Your voice was rough and gravelly, and in any other circumstances you’d have laughed. Unfortunately, laughing was at the bottom of your agenda now. You were heart broken and guilty, and to top it off, hungover.

You peered up at him from under your lashes. He gave you a brusque nod of understanding and, holding the pillow to himself, got up and found his clothes. He dressed out of line of your vision, but then returned, and crouched down beside you. You still couldn’t look at him. He placed a warm hand on your shoulder and it took all your willpower not to lean into him. It would be both too easy and the worst mistake.

“I’ll speak to you at some point, sweets. They get back this evening. I’m gonna tell Karen that we know, and that for her and me, it’s over. You let me know your decision, when you know, yeah? But I think… I think I’m gonna pack up and move away. Start somewhere fresh. You take care o’ y’self.”

You bit your lip and nodded, still staring at the carpet by your toes. He sighed, a heavy and sad sound, and then he was standing up again, and walking across your floor to the door. When it thudded closed the finality broke you. Your eyes shut, and for the first time since this nightmare started, you allowed the tears to fall. 

Dragging yourself up, you made your way to the bathroom, letting the almost scalding water from the shower wash over your skin. You welcomed the sting as it cascaded over bite marks and scratches. The pain was absolution, but you hated that you felt so guilty, when Matt was the one who’d betrayed you.

As you stepped out of the hot steam, and roughly rubbed yourself dry, it felt as though, at least for the time being, that the water had also washed away the sadness, leaving a burning anger in its wake.

You went back to the lounge, and ignoring the reminders of your night, searched for your phone. You dialled a number and waited for it to connect.

“Hi, Foggy! Yeah, it’s me. No, I don’t actually care when he’s due back. I was wondering if you could recommend me and Frank the name of a good divorce lawyer.”

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida

[myfakecandyy]

Annika x Ichiru Drabble

This fic most likely wont makes sense unless you know the established lore I've created for this realationship but given that I am my own target audience I'm fine. This account is my archive and word vomit spam, and a place to share my girls and the content I make for them with my freinds.

In life, I’ve found you are often left at crossroads, choices small and unassuming yet lead you to moments that make up the essence of your being. This moment, this night, was a crossroad for her. Under the vivid glow of the ceiling light, Annika couldn’t help but feel exposed, cracks of light filling up the deepest corners of her body and face, leaving nothing hidden in a safe shade cover. 

It was just a few minutes ago; against her better judgement, she had agreed to go home with him. Had her friends been there in that moment, neither would have been spared of relentless teasing, but it was under the cold, indifferent light of the moon, the sole witness, that she dared to reach out to his extended hand. There was something in his eyes, a determination reflected into her own; once Ichiru had truly set his mind on something, he would see his ambition to the end. It was a trait she adored, so under such a gaze, Annika couldn’t help but fold, for against her harsh words and the falsities she would impart, her weakness stayed with him. 

Like teenagers on the cusp of new realisations, they were both caught up in the moment, having spent the whole day together at each other’s necks, tensions built into more than could be expressed with words. They had not been alone today of course, Annika often found herself in the same quartet, her, her friend, her friend’s lover and her friend’s lover’s brother, and today was no exception. Having a rare day of freedom among adult obligations, a quiet day off at the beach seemed like medicine for the soul. However, as the sunlight came to a close, it seemed neither of them was willing to let go of the day.

Only when her phone lit up, the time shown clearly, could she see the inherent implications of the situation, being left alone in a man’s room at a less-than-proper hour. 9:52 pm. But Ichiru wasn’t like that, and she was sure the thought had not even crossed his mind. No, In all her piety, the one at fault today was her, from how her mind wandered as she watched him at the beach to the predicament she finds herself in now. She was at the end of a crossroad. 

She was determined to ignore these feelings, but feelings like air bubble from the pit of her stomach and threaten to spill out, pitiful almost to think her body and mind could never be in agreement. Nervous, almost expectant, she could only hold her breath and the covers of a bed that was not hers. 

She couldn’t help but sigh, turning to lie on her side, burying herself into the covers, a weak defence. She was glad Ichiru had excused himself to shower, something he needed after being buried in the sand earlier. She smiled fondly. She could still remember the panicked look on his face after telling him she would leave him for the tide; he was pretty cute sometimes, maybe. Would you call her silly for the small thoughts that permeate her mind?

“This room is just like him,” She felt. “What a loser.” Harsh words could never hold such affection unless it were her, unless it was her about him. Just as she let herself relax and smile softly, her short rest came to a close as he was standing at the door. To say the sight of her sprawled across his bed, still in her swimsuit, patiently waiting for him, ignited something in his brain would be an understatement. 

“Hey, sorry to leave you alone for a sec; that sand was just so annoying,” he made his way over to Annika, still under the covers, sitting right next to her. “Oi, what are you hiding for?”

“I’m not hiding, thank you very much. It’s just… cold?” A lie. A woman’s pride lies in being faultless, the arrogance of man enough motive to prove them wrong, and so emerging from the sanctity of the covers, exposed once again, she looks to the man of her affections with faux disdain.

Not in her right mind, she immediately became aware of his frame, how his shirt clung to his body, how his hair stuck to his stupid face, an emotion overflowing she refused to name. It’s too shameful of a woman to ask for something she was not owed. She had always thought he was attractive, but maybe there was something in this dreaded light. In most situations, he was pretty cute, she had no trouble voicing those thoughts, but now she was reminded for the first time that he, indeed, was a man. Her stare remained longer than she would admit before settling on his still-wet hair, droplets falling down his face. 

“Bro, you haven’t even dried your hair. Were you in such a rush to get to me or something?” He was. She beckoned him to come closer, and like a dog, he listened, closing the already small gap between them. Wordlessly she ran her fingers through his hair, an act far more intimate than intended. “See, you’re going to get sick.” Her mind was half unease from worry, but a much more… primitive side of her longed to touch him again. She sheepishly reached towards the towel hanging from his shoulders, her hand brushing his neck for a moment, yet just enough to feel him react to her touch. 

“Don’t move for a minute, ok,” she demanded, beginning to dry his hair clumsily, “I don’t want you to get sick.”

Perhaps fed up with her pestering, he grabbed her wrist, halting her progress. Yet there was something in that lingering touch that such a warm sensation could spread from her skin to invade the solitude of her heart. Perhaps the answer lies in how his hand stayed for just a bit more than needed, neither an unwelcome intrusion nor something fully embraced, but in honesty, the truth lies in the way she felt its absence the moment it was gone. She turned away from him. 

“I can dry my own hair. I’m not a little kid.” he pouts, but his deflection is weak, a mask for more hidden thoughts. Had he invited her with innocence, lacking any unseen intentions, it would have been fine, but her slight prodding and the ill-concealed hunger in her eyes, do nothing but add fuel to an already blaring fire. 

“Well, you’re not staying on the bed with me until it’s dry, so… you can sit on the floor or something.” She playfully pushed him away, suddenly finding his presence too much. 

“Huh!? How does that make sense? You can sit on the floor, and it’s my bed.” 

“Ha, I’d like to see you try,” A challenge, an invitation, “I’m not moving my guy.” 

To some extent, Annika should know better; Ichiru was always one to take her words seriously, which may be why she feels the need to provoke him. In an instant, he whisked her away from the protection of the bed, and she found herself in the arms of the bane of her existence.

“PUT ME DOWN. You bitch ass!!? What the fuck? This is no way to treat a lady, much less a guest!!” she struggled, squirming against his grasp. Had he always been this strong? 

“I’d hardly call you a lady,” he retorted; you could see the smile in his eyes, “I’ll let you back down… if I don’t have to sit on the floor.” That last part seemed oddly genuine, like a silent prayer, a humble request made to the one he wishes to please. 

“Fine, you brute, just leave me alone. I hate you so much.” She didn’t mean that; words act as umbrellas from overflowing clouds. 

Her request was honoured, but in a way, leaving her cornered. She was awkwardly placed onto the bed, as delicately as he could muster, before he towered over her, trapping her with his arms on either side of her head. Droplets of water cascaded onto her body from atop her, and she found she didn’t quite care for the state of his hair anymore. 

He sighs, “I don’t know why I need your permission to stay on my bed, but I really don’t want to upset you, you know?” Annika quickly broke eye contact, turning her face away, yet she could still feel the burning sensation from his torrid gaze covering her body. All too quickly, she could feel the warmth of a hand across her cheek, forcing her to look at him again. 

“Did you really mean that?” he asked, eyes digging deep into her own. 

“Mean what?” 

“Do you really hate me?” He knew the answer, only wanting to hear her words and her voice. She is and always will be like glass to him, transparent. Though, like glass, her fragility needed reverence. Ichiru had to take care not to shatter her in the heat. 

Annika didn’t answer; she seldom did. She could feel herself regressing into a scared child during moments like this, but she wasn’t 13 anymore. There was no way Annika could justify this tired act, especially not to a man who overall had been quite patient and kind with her heart. Maybe if she were to be just a bit greedy, to push a little bit more, he could accept everything in her. Perhaps that’s what desire is, to want something without the usual fear accompanying it. 

With newfound resolve, she timidly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer before burying herself in his embrace. After indulging herself in that moment, fighting the feminine urge to flee, her lips brushed against his ears ever so slightly. 

“I don’t hate you…” she whispered low, like the soft crash of waves on the shore, before retreating back to the safety the crook of his neck offered. 

“I think… no, I’m sure that I’m in love with you, Annika,” He was, but she refused to look at him, refused to entertain the idea. “You like me too, right?” You could hear his anxiousness. To listen to the voice she cherished so dearly, lacking that boyish confidence, caused something in her to stir. 

She pulled away cautiously, turning to stare at the kind face of the man who was so patiently awaiting her answer. He looked to her as farmers do rain, as the night does the sun, as men do gods, quietly asking her to end his misery. How could she refuse him, her weakness, just as she was his. She was finally able to give into him, to give in to herself, to lean in and softly kiss his lips, her answer. 

He readily accepted her, turning such a gentle, even meek gesture into something hot and heavy. She could feel an arm wrap around her waist, a hand trailing up her thigh. Her head began spinning, yet her body was starved, immediately reacting, wanting more. If such effort and time were expended to hear she didn’t hate him, Ichiru could only imagine what it would take to bring out the words he so desperately wanted to hear. Annika’s night would not end anytime soon.

[littlefirefly42]

Love, Maxie

Pairing: Elmax (El x Max)

Summary: When Max's letters stop coming, El realizes she's lost the only person she's ever truly loved

Warnings: Mental Breakdown; Self harm; Su!cide (not graphic); vomiting (not ED related); Hurt no comfort

A/N: I am aware of the irony of finishing a 2000+ word oneshot for myself in less than a week and still not having finished some of y'all's requests. I'm sorry. My only excuse is that I was sad and I needed an outlet. I hope that you enjoy this while you wait I suppose.

~~~

Seven months. That’s how long it had been since Jane Hopper had seen her girlfriend. Trapped in California with not a fraction of a chance that Joyce would let her go back to visit Hawkins, she had been extremely excited when Max had visited the previous June. They had splurged on comics and ice cream, cuddling in El’s bed and reading together. Late at night, they had snuck out the window and onto the roof (with the assistance of El’s powers in Max’s case), and they stared up at the moon and the stars. A strawberry moon, Max had commented once, and El loved her more than she’s ever loved anyone. Now El was sitting alone on the roof, in the same spot, rereading the last letter Max had sent. The date at the top said September 13th, but El had gotten it on November 6th, nearly two months later. 

El,

Hey! I miss you so much! I’m glad you’ve been doing well. How did you do on that summer experience essay? I’m sure it was amazing, the draft you sent me was really good. I’m still not in school, but I’m going back in a few days. I’m not really that nervous, but I miss you so much, and I don’t exactly have a crowd of people lined up to be friends with me. Well, I have Lucas. He’s mostly over the breakup and we’ve hung out a few times this summer, so I think we’re cool now. Mike still hates me though, and Dustin just pretends I don’t exist. Steve makes them all play nice because he’s basically my mom at this point, but to be honest I don’t really hang out with any of them very often anymore. Speaking of moms, I think I might tell mine about us, if it’s okay with you. She didn’t seem too shocked when she saw Steve and Eddie together, so maybe she’d be cool? I’m starting to lose sight in my left eye again, so I’ll have another surgery in a few weeks, but apparently it’s a pretty easy one and I’ll just be in and out. Maybe I’ll tell her right before I go under and see what she says after. Also, I’ve been learning how to do wheelies in my wheelchair, I can’t wait to show you the next time I visit. Write back when you can, and tell Joyce and your brothers I said hi!

Love, Maxie

Maxie. It was the nickname El gave Max after they started dating. Less formal than Maxine, more personal than Max, more affectionate than Mad Max. Seeing it scribbled on the worn paper in her girlfriend’s scrawly, messy, beautiful handwriting made El want to sob. She hadn’t heard from Max since she received this letter. She had written back, some giddy lovesick shit about how excited she was and how much she missed her girlfriend, but there was never a reply. She thought it may have gotten lost in the mail, but three letters and two months later it finally sank in: Max wasn’t writing back. Max wasn’t coming to visit. Max didn’t care.

It was a thought El had been stewing in for the past week and a half, and it was breaking her ribs one by one. Sure, she had missed Max before then. There were nights even before the letters stopped coming that she had felt so incredibly lonely without her fiery, sharp-witted girlfriend that she cried for hours and could still taste the sorrow in the back of her throat the next morning. After November 6th, she felt a twinge of loneliness and disappointment whenever she would sort through the mail and hand Will his letter from Mike. She felt hollow waiting like that. 

But none of it compared to how she felt now, days after she realized that Max wasn’t busy, and her letter had not been lost in the mail. El just wasn’t worth her time anymore.

That hurt. So goddamn much. The setting sun was clouded over, fracturing and distributing the soft light over the horizon, and a few heavy rain drops fell onto the roof. El refolded the letter along its worn, taped creases. She crawled to the edge of the roof and slipped down into her bedroom window, being careful not to land too loudly. She placed the letter along with the others she had from Max.

“Kids! Dinner!” Joyce yelled from downstairs. Good timing too, because El didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts anymore. But as she was opening her door, something stopped her. 

“Coming mom!” Jonathan yelled back. El closed her door and locked it. She didn’t know why, but she felt different. Detached. Her hands shook as she walked back to her desk and picked up the letter.

It made a beautifully violent sound as she tore it. El’s heart pounded, and she grabbed another letter, tearing that one too. Adrenaline seized the girl, grabbing letter after letter and ripping them apart. It was raining harder now, but she didn’t close her window. She couldn’t care less about anything anymore. 

“El, come down here!” She heard Joyce call, but the voice hardly registered. She kept tearing apart letters, and when she finished she went to her book shelf and pulled out all her comic books, throwing them on the floor. Several additions of Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Elektra, and dozens more that Max had introduced her too. El fell to the ground and tore those up too, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks. There was a knock at her door, but she was beyond too far gone to hear it. There was nothing outside this room. Nothing but her and the essence of Max in everything.

Max, huddled in the sheets that El threw off her bed.

Max, commenting on the movie and band posters El tore down.

Max, smirking at the flannel that, when El failed to rip with her bare hands, used her powers.

Max, braiding the soft brown hair that El weeded out from its roots.

Max, tracing the veins on the pale wrist that El scratched until it was red and raw, as if she could scrape away the feeling of being loved by someone and then suddenly and inexplicably being abandoned. 

Max, who abandoned her.

Things were breaking themselves now, shelves collapsing and lamps shattering, a reflection of the carnage in El’s mind. Someone was pounding on the door. Someone else was yelling. But El was unreachable, buried beneath layers of anger and betrayal, everything else was muffled and far away.

Thunder growled lowly outside the open window, and El found herself crawling beneath it. The cold water puddled on the floor shocked her nerves and unearthed a sorrow beneath the fury that El had been ignoring for a long time. She held herself, fingernails digging into her biceps, rain showering down on her, and drowned in the agony that was losing the one person you trusted to never leave. She may have screamed, but she didn’t hear herself. When Jonathan broke the door down with a crowbar, she didn’t flinch.

~~~

The next day, El still refused to speak. Still refused to talk about what happened, despite the best efforts of her family. Joyce had insisted she stay home from school, so she sat at the dining room table and stared through her lunch. Who knew pb&j could be so goddamn patronizing.

 She heard the motor of a truck pulling into the driveway, but she didn’t pay it any mind until Joyce shouted something from her office. Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from one dimly lit room down the hallway to another, leaning silently on the doorway of Joyce’s office.

Joyce was holding a phone with one hand and scribbling aggressively in a notepad with the other, but she shifted the phone to her shoulder when she saw El.

“Honey, would you get the mail please?” She stage-whispered. “I’m waiting on a package and I think it just got delivered.”

El nodded. When she opened the front door there was nothing on the doormat, so she walked down the driveway to the mailbox. It was a cloudless day, and the blinding sun after the previous night’s storm made the air muggy and humid. There were several letters in the mailbox, as well as a newspaper and a folded yellow paper package. She pulled everything out and brought it back inside, tossing the letters and paper carelessly onto the kitchen counter and taking the package to Joyce. 

“Thanks El.” She said, then added “No bills or anything?”

El responded with a simple shrug and walked away before Joyce could add anything more to the skeleton of a conversation. When she returned to the kitchen she began sifting through the letters for anything important, needing something to occupy herself with, to save her from her thoughts. She found nothing notable, two bills, a check, some ads, and- El paused. A stuffed brown envelope from Hawkins, Indiana. At first she dismissed it, with a twinge of heartache, as another letter for Will; But the return address caught her eye. It was Max’s. Suddenly, the walls of the house felt very claustrophobic. El’s heartbeat quickened and dread rooted itself deep in her chest as she slid to the ground. Slowly, with sweaty, shaking hands, she tore the seal and pulled out the first of three papers. It was written on flowery stationary, a cruel beauty to accent the pure repulsiveness of its content.

Dear Ms. Byers,

I hope you and your family are doing well. I heard that Jonathon got his acceptance letter, send him my congrats. I am writing to share some rather distressing information with you. You must excuse the tardiness of this letter, I have been grieving and could not bring myself to write it. However, I feel that it is my moral duty, and my duty as a mother, to inform you that your daughter, Jane, is a homosexual.

El felt her chest tighten. Joyce had known about her and Max for months and didn’t seem to have an issue with the relationship, but from the tone of the letter it was obvious Ms. Mayfield didn’t feel the same. She took a deep breath, letting the fact sink in, before continuing to read.

I’m ashamed to admit that I have known for quite awhile, and only now have I had the strength to tell you. You may remember my daughter, Maxine, who came to visit you in the summer. Maxine was sick as well, and I recommend you immediately seek therapy for Jane. The two were involved in a romantic relationship, the likes of which drove my daughter to suicide several months ago.

Something stopped inside of El. She reread the last sentence three more times, looked away, blinked, and then read it again. But no matter how much she wanted to pretend she was hallucinating, the word was still there and glaring. Suicide.

I know this kind of thing is hard to hear, and you may want to deny it, but from one mother to another I think the best thing for Jane is to accept it and get her professional help. I have photocopied Max’s suicide note and enclosed it with this letter, so that you may understand the severity of the situation. Please address it immediately, before we lose another child.

My best regards to you,

Susan Mayfield

El finished reading the letter and tossed it aside numbly. She pulled out the second paper, an obituary with a picture of a grinning little kid in a yellow bathing suit, missing most of her teeth, ginger hair tangled and wet. El didn’t even bother reading it. She dropped it onto the letter from Max’s mom and pulled out the last paper. It was a slightly crooked photocopy of a lined piece of paper.

El,

I am so sorry. I know my mother will read this first, but I couldn’t care less. You should know I lied to you in my letters. I don’t speak or eat a lot anymore and I don’t leave my room most days. I miss you so much. I don’t have anyone anymore, and all the time I’m just alone with my shitty mind. After you left Hawkins the first time I thought I would be okay, and I was for a while. At least, I was better than I am now. Then you came back and I didn’t even care that the world was ending because I was with you again. And that day in the hospital, when you told me you loved me, I think it was the best moment of my life. I was so ready to give up El, but being with you saved me. When you went back to Cali I didn’t feel that same emptiness as the first time. I missed you so goddamn much, but with the letters and the visit in the summer I felt like I always had something to look forward to, and that something was always you. Nothing else, no one else. Just you. And then it all went to shit again. The guys stuck around a little after everything went down, but eventually they all kind of stopped talking to me. Steve still drives me places and scolds me for not taking my meds and all that, but we’re not really friends you know? Plus, I used to just get ignored at school, but the wheelchair has been an asshole magnet and it’s getting a little intolerable. Anyway, it doesn’t matter really. The point is I just kept feeling worse all the time. And I love you, and for a while that was enough, but eventually it just hurt more, feeling like a shell of myself until the next time I heard from you. I told my mom about us like I said I would, and she broke down and said I needed help and I couldn’t keep writing to you. She’s trying to get me sent to some clinic now, and I just can’t do it anymore. Without you, I’ve got no one. So I’m sorry, really really sorry, that I couldn’t be strong enough for you, because you sure as hell were for me and now I’m leaving you but if there’s a god he knows I don’t have a choice. I love you El, I hope you live the best goddamn life.

Love, Maxie

El’s hands shook as she placed the photocopy gently on top of the other papers. Her heart kept pounding faster and faster, and it made her chest ache. Everything was too large and too close, and yet there was a strange numbness to the overwhelming feeling, like a fight-or-flight response, a reflex. Her body was acting on its own, and her mind was somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away. She lifted herself from the ground, heart still pounding, and made her way dizzily up to her room, leaving the two letters and her girlfriend’s obituary on the kitchen floor. El's room was in the same chaotic disarray it was the previous night, and still she looked around and saw nothing but Max. Everything she had destroyed in her blind rage was Max. And Max was dead. And everything was gone. And El fell down to her knees and threw up, then cried on the hardwood floor for a long time.

[man-in-crisis999]

Questioning Friendship (Full Article)

FRIENDSHIP IN MIDLIFE? 

I’ve started to think about the term ‘friendship’. If you are a man circumferencing middle age in the UK what does friendship actually mean to you? Men and women approach friendship in different ways, us men have misunderstood what friendship actually means.

  Remembering back to my teenage years I had much closer friends. Before the times of regular pub dwelling, friends and I would meet often, play football, talk about girls, music, movies, computer games, fashion, popularity, sex and other limitless conversation topics. The conversation would inevitably lead to prospective talks on losing one's virginity to girls that were far beyond our attraction remit. Our bonds were much stronger in youth, we still teased each other and laughed at each other's shortcomings but that wasn’t the foundation of our friendships. If any of my friends were in trouble I would always have their back and defend them, in return they would have mine.

My experience in adulthood has been somewhat different. When alcohol and pubs entered the fray my male friendships started to change and deteriorate. No longer did we go to the movies or have outdoor excursions together, we didn’t camp or go fishing, we didn’t paddleboard or holiday together. Instead we developed a weekly meeting in the pub. These weekly public house meetings quickly grew into an array of group slander banter for a cheap laugh over a booze up. General conversation had left the building. And I was taking part and not really noticing how my friendships were changing. 

I have always been quite a deep thinker which probably arises from the music, art and movies I am influenced by. As I matured as a man I began to understand the shallowness of the weekly pub meet. This meet was simply an excuse to go out and drink alcohol, to get away from the missus and enjoy that ‘Male Banter’. Now don’t misunderstand me, I like a good laugh just as much as the next person but at some point the banter (I detest this word) has to stop. Our relationships became less about friendship and more about convenience. We never phoned each other, we never met up for coffee or a chat, we never spoke much outside of the pub. I looked at my friends and eventually could only see empty people. I had absolutely no connection with them whatsoever, I didn’t even like them anymore. 

It was only when I met my ex-partner did I start to enjoy another person's company again. We developed that bond that I was so desperate for. Subsequently we met other couples, shared dinners and house parties. We’d host Eurovision nights, family evenings and talk with our new friends about almost everything. I was happy. I firmly believe that happiness comes from good relationships with others. We are not designed to be alone. Which is why I felt so alone in my 20’s even though I had many many so called ‘friends’. 

Inevitably in modern day society my romantic relationship faltered and my partner and I separated. The friends that we had made together I had to let go of. I tried to stay in touch with them but it phased out and I was back to the weekly pub meetup. This time it was even worse and I could hardly even stand listening to the crap they came out with. They would try the banter and teasing with me but I’d lost the capacity for it and just laughed it off whilst swallowing the vomit from my stomach. Why was I here again with these people? I had nothing else. 

At this point I was approaching my 40th birthday. I had no real friends, no children and no partner. I was at a low point. I could see why so many men struggle after relationship breakdowns. Sometimes we are literally left with nothing. I am sure this is a huge contributing factor for the rise in male suicides we see across the country because I have been there, and have had thoughts about that at the time. I had lost my partner who I’d built my life around, lost all the friends we had together, lost the family bonds we had built. I was living alone. The weekly pub meet was never going to be enough for me and I quickly stopped and phased out those people from my life. I had to rebuild everything. During this time I had to be very strong and rely on my immediate family for support. For that I am so grateful. 

As a middle aged man, making new male friends is extremely difficult. People usually, by this age, have made their family and friends and are comfortable in the life they have.

 Fortunately I have found good friendships and have made one or two close friends. Those friendships are real and we regularly meet up for all sorts of different activities. The new friends I have now have all felt the way I was feeling after their own separation or divorce; completely alone. We now realise our mistake of not having built our own foundations/friendships to rely on. We understand what friendship is and how important it is. What we have to realise is that us men; are extremely vulnerable to loneliness. Imagine a man in his 50’s. He’s going through a divorce and has two children with his wife. His wife gains majority custody of the children and the man has to move out of the family home. He has to move somewhere new entirely. His life has been literally ripped from underneath his feet. He has to start again from scratch in his 50’s. His wife would usually keep the friends she has and the ones thay have made together and the man is left with absolutely nothing. How do you think he feels in his new life? Where are HIS friends? These are the building blocks of depression leading to suicide and men need to start supporting each other and being there for one and other like we did in our youth.

[kypossumlady]

I quit my job on Tuesday morning. I spent the whole day sleeping. I’ve been unsettled ever since but it’s just the stress of the unknown. I feel really proud of myself for standing up and not staying at a job that was bad for my mental health. It feels like an excuse sometimes and sometimes I’m a little embarrassed. But really it was the best choice.

I had a giant meltdown that night. I think it was needed, even if it was trash and I always get super embarrassed. It did help me to communicate some stuff I couldn’t figure out how to say. I know I bitch so much on here but truly I’m so glad I have Tony. No one has ever showed me that much love and grace, and no one continues to.

People have asked if quitting has helped my anxiety, and it kind of did. The funny thing is I’m always this anxious. It never stops- it just fluctuates. I still wake up randomly through the night. I don’t really sleep that great anymore, and the job def contributed, but the anxiety is forever.

I really like Anna. I’m trying to not rush but I just have a huge crush. The biggest thing I’m navigating is understanding how to talk to her and not feel bombarded by statements that are like, “green is my fave color. It reminds me of my dead granny” or something. I think a lot of it has to do with her never really having actual friends and mostly having relationship friends. I also think where my brain has been a shit mess lately it has skewed my perception of the situation.

I’m really trying to stay in the mindset this year of not thinking “bad” things about people, like “I hope they stub their toe for eternity.” It’s hard when people can be super mean.

I’ve felt out of it mentally for a while. Some days it bothers me. It feels like I’m losing a lot of time. My memory is really bad too. I cry about it a lot, because I know I’ll be gone mentally in the future. I try to not think about it.

I want to find a job I can do that pays okay and isn’t management so I can just, work. I wish I could just do something like a little office work or laying under a tree all day.

Im not sure why I have task paralysis about taking my animals to the vet. It isn’t a bad drive. It isn’t expensive. The people are friendly. It’s just part of how my brain works. I wish I could explain to people that my brain has all the drive in the world but I literally freeze. It isn’t a choice. I feel the same way about grocery shopping. I want to go, but I go and it’s just a lot lot lot. I can do pickup orders which are okay but a lot of times I forget things or want to browse to see my options.

The respite family I used to work with/the family I’ve had since I moved to lex and I don’t talk much anymore. Part of that is where I’ve moved but a lot of it started with the crumble of Cody and I. No one really talks about losing the relationships you’ve built with other people when your intimate relationship dies. I think Gary thought Cody was innocent, and maybe it’s just Gary being friends but he looks at me different now. I feel it. Hattie understands more, so she doesn’t. It’s hard. I can’t push myself to stay around the people that still interact with Cody. I screamed for so long how much I struggled and people didn’t listen, so now I feel like I don’t have to. I don’t really owe anyone an explanation about why I have to dissolve relationships or keep them a certain way.

I say it every year but really considering not doing animal rehab this year. I think my brain really needs the time to focus on the farm. Animals are my go to when I know I’m feeling down, so I end up taking on more than I should. I guess it’s a form of transference.

Long post. I’m glad I word vomit this out somewhere.

[peaseblossom-and-cobweb]

Weighing of the heart on 87th street

You are handsome in a way that women like me like. You have a nose that might be better suited on a larger face, and long, delicate hands that speak to a life of academia. Your mouth is wide and inviting. I know the shape of the back of your teeth by now, those sparks of memory send electricity through me intermittently as the day progresses.

You’re Italian, or Sephardic, or something that gives you angular features and dark eyes, undulating curls that are kept and unkempt in a way that makes me want to run my fingers through them. You don’t have great taste in fashion, leaning more towards bland than any other signifier, though you find it to be a point of pride that you care-dont-care about your appearance and still have women like me staring up at you starry-eyed.

And I am. Besotted, that is. There isn’t another word for the gut-punch terrible feeling at the pit of my stomach that makes me want to turn and vomit every fifteen minutes. It’s not my first time in love and it is an unwelcome friend. Get ready, It says. I clench my fist against the nausea.

You know a lot about geological features. I have a taste for men with a touch of the absurd so I’ve chosen you- you who can recite the Geologic Time Scale like numbers on the clock. ‘One before two and Carboniferous before Devonian, you know.’ I nod. I’ll remember this information years later to pull out at a trivia night that you are not involved in. I can’t help but absorb these pieces into my personality like some sort of cloning device.

You are really getting going as you point to the Book of the Dead at the Met. I suggested it because I enjoy looking at the history of ourselves, and have stupidly hoped you would want to hear what I have to say. The scrolls span across the room like broken wings. I wander closer wishing that we hadn’t given up logographs all those centuries ago in exchange for letters. ‘Imhotep was much more than a priest…’ you’re saying and I nod along, making the appropriate oohs and ahs. I sew my mouth shut, you don’t want to hear that I know this already. That I spent a year of my adolescence pouring over Egyptian history after I learned about Hatshepsut and that women were pharaohs and still hated too.

I’ve done this before — I try to be you and you get bored and I just get tired.

So I nod. I’m hopelessly in love with you and you love the way I treasure your knowledge. I’ve spent years in relationships like these before and I worry that I am going to find myself circling the same drain for the rest of my life. You look like every man I’ve ever loved before, give or take a few inches.

I’m not a manic pixie but I am interesting. And I’m smart. And being an interesting smart woman feels lonely in an eternal sort of way. The more educated a woman is the less likely they are to get married. I can see it- it’s not want for trying on my part. I just feel so damn lonely with each sentence I utter to you. You with your degree that somehow weighs more than mine like we’re weighing our characters on Osiris’s balance. I don’t think I’d win. Every woman pharaoh had been colored by appearance or wiped from existence in a way that tells me they hated us too, in every era.

I’m tempted to ask you which geologic time period women would be accepted as equals but then you might refer to us as ‘females’ and I’d have to reckon with myself about loving you in tandem with knowing that word sits in your vocabulary.

It’s not that I’m against loving you. It’s just that I feel so separate from your love —  like I’m a cheerleader to your intelligence. I have to treat every interaction with you as if you were on a pulpit and I was a fanatic and it makes me fucking empty inside.

Your nails are neat as you point out The Weighing on papyrus. I like your fingers. They reach good spots inside me and sometimes that feels like loving me too. All these excuses I use to make up for the fact that you only love your voice and the way I understand the nuances of your dissertation.

Here you think, here is someone who gets me. I keep wishing you would get me too.

I’m watching you on the other side of the balance. Your collar is stuck up in a funny way and I want to fix it for you and I also want to disappear. Actually, I want to tell you about the Egyptian creation story where the god of the universe ejaculated on a rock and made the world because I think it’s funny and interesting and that is what I am too. I know you don’t want to hear things like that because I’ve said them before and it made you think of something else you knew and could tell me.

I wonder what it would be like to be there, in the underworld with Osiris. I wonder if the scales are obsidian if it would be hot like I imagine hell would be. I would see you on the scale far far below me. You weigh so much. I look down, I’m on the other side with the feather. It’s obvious — to you, I’m barely even there.

[arizona2004]

Everything’s gonna be okay

Azriel x pregnant fem!reader

Word Count: 1996

Based on this request: “Can you write something about Azriel x reader, where she is pregnant and he is scared about his past P.s. I love how you write😍” by @lys-neyr8 

please excuse any errors I did not proof read in the slightest

Waiting for Madja to return feels like it takes an eternity. I breathe in and out in an attempt to calm myself of the nerves. Ever since the nausea and vomiting started, I've been terrified. Fae don’t usually get sick, so I knew this couldn’t be good, and I’ve been doing everything in my power to hide it from my mate. Which is difficult when said mate is the Spymaster for the Highlord of the Night Court.

I breathe in one more final time as Madja opens the door to the exam room, greeting me with a small smile where I sit on the bed-like table. I unknowingly hold the breath in as Madja speaks.

“There’s nothing wrong.”

I let out the breath in a shaky, confused gasp.

“But- I throw up every day, and I’m nauseous. The stomach flutters-”

“Are all the symptoms.”

My mind raises, confused at everything Madja is telling me. As soon as I started noticing the strange symptoms, I knew I had to come to Madja. She’s the best healer the Night Court has and is always available to help the inner circle.

“I don’t- I don’t understand.”

“You are not ill, Y/N. You’re pregnant.” 

Too many emotions rush through me for me to be able to filter them all at once, but as soon as I come to my senses, I throw a wall up on my side of the bond-blocking Azriel from sensing anything else from me. 

“I’m… pregnant?”

“Yes,” Madja says patiently before revealing some pamphlets. “These are the best midwives in Velaris, in my opinion. They’re all a little different; some specialize in water births or go about the practice in slightly different ways. You can look through these and meet with them before you decide.”

“I don’t understand.” Madja stops speaking when I interrupt her and furrows her brow at me. “How?”

“How?” she repeats, confused, “well, you and you’re mate are having sex, I presume. And when-”

“No,” I interrupt, “No, I know how babies are made. I just- we’re both taking contraceptive tonics.”

“Oh-” is all Madja says for a moment before taking a deep breath and starting again. “Those are very effective but not a 100% guarantee. Not to mention that one or both of you could have forgotten a time or two. There are many ways something could have been affected to cause this, but none of that matters now.” 

She takes another deep breath before continuing. “I don’t usually have to offer this because faelings are so rare to come by, so accidental pregnancies are even rarer, but you do have options, Y/N.”

“Options?”

“Yes. There’s a potion of sorts that I can brew for you. It would get rid of the child without harming you at all.”

“Get rid of?” I ask, the information not processing in my brain. “No- I don’t think- I don’t want to do that.”

“Okay. Then I’ll leave these with you,” she says, handing the papers to me. “And if you have any questions, I’ll do my best to answer them, but a midwife is far more knowledgable in childbirth than me.”

I nod, unable to do anything else, and tuck the papers into my bag.

—

It’s been a few days since I found out about the baby growing inside of me, but decide every attempt I’ve made to tell my mate, he still doesn't know. Anxious thoughts filter through my head one after another as I lay beside him, pretending to sleep.

“You can tell me anything.” The sound of his voice shocks me, making my heart skip a beat in my chest.

“Wh-what?” I ask, turning on our bed to face him.

“Somethings bugging you. It has been for days. You can tell me whatever it is, Y/N. If you want.”

“I do want to,” I say, but I can’t make myself actually tell him.

“Y/N,” his voice is soft as it whispers my name. His hand is gentle on my cheek, brushing away the single tear that has fallen. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I-” I take a deep breath in and reveal my secret on the exhale of it, “I’m pregnant.”

Azriel’s hand freezes where it is brushing through the locks of my hair. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. I don’t even think he’s breathing.

“Azriel-” he sits up abruptly, cutting off the words trying to escape my throat. “Please-”

“We’ve been taking-”

“Madja says they’re not 100% effective. Accidents happen.”

“Okay,” he sounds eerily calm.

“Okay?”

“It’s fine. This is fine, but we’re both tired. Let’s got to sleep and discuss it more in the morning.”

His voice is so monotonous that I lose the ability to speak. I lay back down on the bed instead and let exhaustion sweep me into the comforting embrace of sleep.

When I awake the next morning Azriel is not beside me. He’s not anywhere in our house, and terror rushes through me with terrible thoughts. Just as the thoughts of abandonment rush into my head, though, Azriel appears in a cloud of shadows directly in front of me.

“What’s wrong?” his voice is higher than usual, panic lacing every rise and fall of it. “Is it the baby? Are you hurt?”

“Wh-what?” 

His hands start roaming my body, tracing every inch of my skin, searching for any injury. Something he doesn’t find. “What’s wrong?” His brow is furrowed, “I felt your panic-”

“Where were you?” I cut him off, anger replacing my fear. “I thought you left, Az. Last night…” I trail off as tears well up in my eyes and look away, refusing to let him see how badly he hurt me.

Quickly though, he pulls me into his arms, squeezing me tightly. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m not going anywhere.” I hear the truth in his voice, and I know he wouldn’t lie to me so blatantly, but I also know there’s something he’s not saying, and when he speaks again, I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to convince me or himself. “Everything is gonna be okay.”

—

“Okaayy,” Patrice says in her too-high voice, drawing out the word for too long. I have to suppress my smile as she does it because Az has expressed to me many times just how much it annoys him. “Everything is looking good. Your baby is exxactlyy in the position we would expect. They are a liitttle bigger than is normal, but that’s probably just genetic,” she finishes with a small glance to Az but quickly returns her gaze to me. “Everything is perfectly in order, and I don’t have anything else for you today. Any new questions?”

I shake my head, ready to finish this appointment with the midwife and go to lunch with my husband. I already asked most of the questions my soon-to-be mother brain could come up with in the early months. Now six months along, I’m not sure I haven’t read every book on this that there is. 

Azriel’s worse than me, though. I find him with a new book or pamphlet every day, notes in the margins, and sentences highlighted all over the place. He’s always frantically checking on me and trying to do everything perfectly. The look in his eyes always leads me to ask why but he still won’t open up about what’s bothering him, only reassuring me that everything is “going to be okay.”

As we exit  Patrice's office Az lets out a deep sigh beside me, “Remind me again why you had to pick her to be the midwife.”

“She’s the most compatible with my birth plan. And she’s good at her job, even if her voice and speaking mannerisms annoy you.”

“I know,” he grumbles, guiding me toward my favorite restaurant without even having to ask.

—

“Oh, oh, oh!” Mor exclaims from across the store, “You have to get this one! It’s so cute.”

“Oh, that’s adorable,” Feyre agrees from your side as the cute onesie Mor is holding comes into view. It is a dark blue with stars covering it, and the butt has three little mountains and three stars bigger and brighter than the others above them. 

“Okay,” I agree because it is too cute to pass up on, “ but you guys have got to start picking out things with pre-made wing holes. I don’t want to have to get everything tailored.”

“Sorry, Y/N, but I’m not counting how many holes the outfits have. I’m just trying to pick out the cutest things so that your baby is the best dressed in Velaris.”

I laugh at her comment and walk past her on my way to get the items on the shopping list. We spend the rest of the picking out the perfect combination of cute and practical baby must-haves. I pay for the large items in-store but make arrangements to have them shipped to the house I own with my mate and leave with the girls, our arms full of bags of tiny outfits.

When we get back to the house they help me lug everything inside and up to the nursery but then run off to their own homes, leaving me to finally fall asleep in my large and comfortable bed. 

When I wake a short while later, the sun is still up but is steadily making its way toward the horizon. Az is nowhere to be found in our room, so I pull myself from the comfort of the bed and lumber toward the door.

As I walk into the hall, I notice the light of the nursery is on, the door cracked open slightly. I walk toward it and peek my head in, only to find my mate on the floor, a onesie clasped tightly in his grasp.

“Az?” I ask quietly, pushing the door open further. I move to kneel beside him and lift his tear-stained face to face mine. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re so small,” he chokes out. The baby is going to be so tiny. What if I break them?”

“Az-” I try to say something to reassure him, but his eyes grow wide with fear, and all of his panic-filled thoughts finally rush to the surface.

“What if I’m a horrible father? What if I do everything wrong and turn out as bad as my father?”

“Azriel!”

“No! Maybe it’s in my blood. I never had a good father figure in my life. I could end up ruining our feeling’s life.”

“You won’t!” I tell him.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I do, Azriel. You are a good male. A good friend. A good mate and husband. You will be a wonderful father.” He’s shaking his head, refusing to look at me. I grip him by the chin and force his eyes to mine, gently stroking the tears from his cheeks. When the steady flow of saltwater has stopped, and he’s still looking at me; I grip his hands in mine and hold his gaze. “Bad fathers don’t worry about whether or not they're going to ruin their child's life. They don’t care. You’re doing everything right. You're trying your hardest to be good, and you’ve already proven that you love this baby, Azriel. That is all that matters. You care enough to try.

“Y/N-”

“Listen to me: everything is going to be okay. I know that now more than ever. I have never felt more sure of you in my life, Az. I love you. And our baby is going to love you. You won’t break them; if a big brute like Cas can take care of babies and hold them without accidentally crushing them, you definitely can.”

He chokes on a laugh, nodding his agreement as a smile wakes a small appearance on his lips. I know this isn’t the end of his worries and panic. But at least he’s a little reassured. At least we’re a little closer to believing we can do this. 

[beneathashadytree]

Hi! I'm not sure if your write for the La squadra boys, specifically Risotto, Prosciutto, Illuso, and Melone, but if you dont this request could be for the Bucci boys as well!

HCs for the la squadra/bucci boys with an so who suffers with an eating disorder(making themselves throw up) and just being specific about health, constant exercise. But they found out through like hearing them do it.

If this is too much, you can slim it down however you like or simply ignore the request! <3

UNCONDITIONALLY - RISOTTO NERO AND BUCCI GANG X READER

Warnings : mentions of eating disorders, vomiting, this is obviously an AU where everyone is alive, in Giorno’s part he’s already Don, this isn’t proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : angst & fluff i think?

Word count : 2.3K words

Additional notes : Thank you so much for requesting! I don’t write for La Squadra, but I do write for Risotto alone, so I went with the entirety of the Bucci gang along with him. Personally, I’ve had a very long, tiring struggle with eating disorders, and this felt like a good outlet. I hope you know, anon, that regardless of how tumultuous the path to recovery might be, you will always have people that support your step-by-step achievements and offer you endless support💗 Hope you enjoy this!🥰

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp.

Masterlist

Risotto berated himself more than he’d care to admit

He’d always been so perceptive, always picking up on the subtlest of details

Especially concerning his beloved, to whom he paid near-constant attention to, regardless of what he was currently doing

So the fact that he had failed to connect the dots had shame swelling in his stomach

He’d chalked up their concern for their health as just that—being healthy

Something he obviously found important and even a wonderful habit and lifestyle to have

Having a healthy sleep schedule, regular checkups, and exercising daily were great things in his opinion that he even encouraged them to maintain

How he failed to notice their contradictory weakness and frailty as time went on, he had no idea

And hearing them heaving in the locked bathroom after a hearty meal shared over the candlelight had the stand user rooted by his feet, unsure for the first time in his life

He had no idea how to react, almost stunned in place

Risotto decided not to interrupt this, lest they panic

Instead, he carefully planned out a day in which they were both free (a difficult thing to find, considering how demanding being members of the Italian mafia was), and had them spend it at home

His approach of the topic was tentative, but his voice was firm and as reassuring as it was deep

Though he loathed to imagine how long this had been happening, he understood that perhaps he could nudge them in the direction of opening up to him and discussing this

Regardless of whether or not they spoke of they divulged any details, his loving and caring gaze wouldn’t waver for a second as he’d provide them the safe space that always was in his arms

Awkward as he might have been with how openly affectionate he was being, he’d prefer that a million times over than abandoning them in their time of need

He’d make it so they could always rely on him to support them on the road to eventual recovery

After all, their happiness and health would always remain his number one priority

Given how responsible and emotionally intelligent Bruno always has been, it’s almost impossible to imagine him not noticing that something was rather odd concerning his beloved’s behavior

Leading a healthy life was something he’d always encouraged, and he himself loved to join in on their morning runs whenever he could, breathing in the salty air of Napoli that always lingered

However, having them weakly smile over their lunch dates and rush to the bathroom afterwards had major red flags popping in his mind

They often excused it as being caused by “too much grease” or “coming down with something”, but Bruno knew all too well that the restaurants he chose were the finest in town, and that their supposed illness would’ve been apparent through other symptoms

So he was well aware that it was a deeper, more complex struggle that he just wasn’t sure how to bring up without seeming tactless

A couple of weeks after he’d come to the realization, he couldn’t hold it in anymore, his worry and compassion winning over as he walked in on them unwinding on a mission-free weekend

With his warm palms encasing theirs and his heart clearly worn on his sleeve, he then smiled gently at them before he even broached the topic

And they already knew what was coming, having known their lover that well, and having been aware of how sharp he was

Still, it was far better to cry their heart out in his embrace than to force the words down and keep their troubles locked away

He couldn’t promise to be a magical cure, but he could vow to remain supportive throughout their way to wellness once again

Now, Abbacchio runs rather hot-headed, and his passion and emotions often cloud his judgment (though his squad members have often quelled that inferno)

Though normally perceptive on the job, sometimes his muddled emotions caused him to misinterpret or overlook certain points, and the odd habits his lover adopted weren’t an exception to that

At first, he thought that it was mere anxiety or restlessness that had them seeking out more exercise regimens and detailed schedules for sleep and eating, and he even thought that these were healthy coping mechanisms

At least, better than his, which consisted of nursing a bottle of hard liquor

Then, he began to grow slightly indignant when they flat-out refused to have weekly dinner nights that usually consisted of hearty meals and tender moments

And once they did agree, they would leave halfway and spend quite some time in the restaurant bathroom

Feeling a little wounded that they were seemingly eager to cut down on their bonding time, Leone directly confronted them about their disappearances, eyebrows furrowed as he did

Mistaking his concealed hurt for disappointment in them, they couldn’t help but sniffle and admit the truth behind their struggle

And though guilt churned in his stomach at the thought of having possibly pushed them without even being the slightest bit aware of the situation, he worked on schooling his expression to one of calmness

Nothing but patience and love in his expression as he listened, they knew that his close proximity to them and his violet eyes trained on them showed just how much he cared

His was a silent vow to lend an ear and a heart whenever they wanted to fall back on him on the journey to recovery

Mista’s motto to live fast and die young had long been accepted as something unique to only him, and he knew that it certainly wasn’t for everyone

So seeing his darling fretting over their health and trying their best to keep themself in top shape was something he thought was perfectly normal, even a good sign

Them exercising regularly just meant that they could use that as an excuse to shower together often (something he was particularly fond of)

Any other symptoms were extremely well-hidden from him, as they knew just how much the sharp-shooter paid attention to his surroundings

And when it came to them specifically, Mista was ten times as attentive and cautious, given how caring he was as a lover

He only found out when he happened to stumble upon them—quite literally too

Waking up mid-nap with a desperate urge to pee, he blearily walked over to the bathroom, swinging the half-closed door open and nearly tripping over their figure curled up on the floor

With a quick glance to the toilet and their sickly state, it didn’t take long for him to figure out what they’d been doing

However, it was only after they momentarily panicked and tried to apologize for letting their eating disorder get out of hand did his heart sink as he understood

Mista had had no idea, and the revelation had him earnestly rushing to stop them from apologizing, firmly telling them that they shouldn’t feel sorry

Though he admitted he had little to no experience with this, he could offer his unyielding emotional support

Only after their tears had ceased and he’d pulled them up to brush their teeth did be grin reassuringly and ruffle their hair, knowing he’d never let them face their struggles on their own

Now Giorno is far too perceptive and smart to not notice all the little signs

And given the fact that he’s particularly invested in collecting knowledge, he’s almost certainly well-read on the topics of mental health, eating disorders, and the human psyche in general

The only reason why he hadn’t noticed this time was because he’d been completely swamped with work

Becoming the Don was far from easy, and required way too much paperwork and time spent away from his beloved

Though he always felt awful about that fact, he couldn’t just drop everything and rush to their side (as much as he would love to do that)

So they were able to keep their obsession with their health and their rushes to the bathroom after every meal to throw it back up a secret for a while

He found out on a day on which he intended to surprise them with him being at home for a much-needed and missed date night

Coming right after lunch time, he frowned as he found them gripping the toilet bowl and throwing up

Concern evident on his face, he was quick to help them clean the toilet and wash up, gentle hands silently guiding them through as exhaustion marked their face

He settled them under the bed with him, tucking them into his chest and using Gold Experience to conjure up a garland of gentle-smelling lavender flowers

The soothing effect was almost instantaneous, and soon they found themself admitting to their struggle with food and health

Despite feeling his heart being squeezed at the very thought of them having gone through so much without having him by their side, he was ever the good listener and only offered comforting hums and encouraging gazes the entire time

Squeezing their hands with that familiar determined look on his face, they knew that things would change from now on

Should they stumble and fall a million times, Giorno would always be there to help them dust themself off and move forwards

Fugo always took things to heart very easily, and more often than not let his passions take the reins

Though he was a brilliant man, he tended to act first and then reflect later, something he often despised about himself

His lover’s actions were not all that subtle to him, and he couldn’t help that slight twinge of anger that formed in his chest

After all, he couldn’t understand it himself—why hadn’t they come to him?

Was he not that worthy of a confidant? Was he not around enough for them to trust in him being there for them? Did they take him for an idiot who wouldn’t piece things together and understand the whole picture?

He knew that it wasn’t merely them “staying healthy” when they worked themself to the bone with their strenuous exercise regimens

And really, how stupid did he have to be to not realize the real reason behind them knocking back their chair mid-meal to dash to the bathroom?

The way they looked away whenever he piled more food on their plate when he cooked for date night wasn’t something they hid well either

In all honesty, he felt rather insulted that they thought they were doing a good job hiding it all

So when they emerged from the bathroom one time after snacking while watching a rented movie, he had a frown on his face and absentmindedly got short with them

Finally snapping, he sighed and told them that he knew all along what was going on

It wasn’t easy, hearing him phrase it that way, and so they could help but tear up at his unwittingly harsh words

Fugo’s expression instantly softened, a deep feeling of shame mixed with guilt settling in his bones

With only one glance at them, he could tell that this truly had nothing to do with him, and all to do with their own struggle with their eating disorder

He felt embarrassed to have taken it personally; how selfish that was of him!

Slowly pulling them into a gentle embrace, he softly apologized to them, explaining how his mindset had led him to drawing up these conclusions

It was a heavy talk that would play a major role in affecting their relationship, but it was far better to communicate and express companionship and understanding than to let these feelings fester and continue braving things alone

After all, clumsy as his approach often was, his love for them wasn’t questionable

Narancia would be none the wiser the entire time his darling hid this from him

It wasn’t that he was neglectful, or that he was inattentive

It’s just that he simply found his attention scattering in the wind, and he generally struggled to focus on minor details that aren’t blatantly obvious

So if they weren’t to outright say that they’re struggling with an eating disorder, he would never notice—especially not with them actively trying to hide it from him

It was easy to cover up them rushing to the toilet mid-eating, or them flat-out refusing to snack with him as they lounged off-mission, or even waking up earlier than he did to go on morning runs

In a rather ironically funny turn of events, he only found out the truth because he’d been desperate enough to barge into the bathroom while they’d left the door ajar as they vomited into the toilet bowl

The sight had erased all thoughts of base needs from his head as his heart plummeted to his feet

At first, he thought that they had fallen ill, and his primary instinct was to instantly ask if they needed a doctor right now, panic taking over his features momentarily as it often did whenever the topic of illness and disease was brought up

When an embarrassed look made its way on their face and they seemingly found no reason to lie and hide anymore, they confessed to the truth of their struggle with food and health

If Narancia’s initial reaction had been frantic, then his reaction when they told him was heartbroken to say the least

He’d always been one to feel things very deeply when it came to the people he cared about and their struggles, and it was doubled when it came to his lover

Not to mention the fact that he felt horrible, knowing that he’d been completely blind to what had been going on for weeks

He instantly teared up, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he almost always did, and made sure to help them clean up and settle on their living room couch afterwards

With his arms wrapped tightly around them and their back to his chest, he had no intention of letting them go any time soon

Small apologies mumbled into their neck as he blinked back his tears, he vowed to always remain by their side and be their safe space, now that he knew everything about their eating disorder

No matter how turbulent their recovery journey would be, he’d never hesitate to offer his endless love and support for them

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @boorishbrambling