#he started raving in his sleep about high school and then started sobbing

[dec0ra-grl]

To further fuel my “dragon is a crusty ass old man” brain I FIRMLY believe this man is delusional and delirious on like fever meds

When running the army, he didn’t really care about getting sick that much and when he got sick (since he had a young, stupid, and an often sick sabo around) he just took CVS kid’s medicine💀 meaning bro hasn’t had stuff like DayQuil/NyQuil since he LEFT HOME TO START THE REV ARMY. Plus the fact he’s old and half rotting by now you can guess how he holds up.

The fateful day he was sick and finally someone gave him NyQuil mid day was the day the revolutionary army thought about retiring him.

[hansensgirl]

salvatore | v.

series summary. — Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

warnings. — NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, stalking, obsessive behaviours, anxiety, broken glass, a panic attack, talk of bucky’s past and his mental health, angst, fluff, kissing, dark!Bucky Barnes, voyeurism, cameras, mentions of cheating, violence, perving, manipulation, feelings, 18+!!!

pairings. — Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

authors note. — finally another chapter! this one is kinda sad but the next chapter will be fluffier heh. i changed my mind and i will not be doing a sequel after i finish this series, i’m so sorry! please reblog, leave some feedback and enjoy yourself!

Bucky couldn’t believe his cerulean eyes. Tears filled them and one ran down his cheek, soaking into his beard that he just trimmed that morning. He so desperately wanted to return to your home and beg you, ask you, plead to you, why? He made sure the polaroid didn’t have even the slightest crease to it, and not even a speck of dust either. The room started to spin, and his chest began to tighten. Each breath he took in didn’t seem to be enough for him.

The polaroid slipped out of his hands and his grip on reality went with it as well. Bucky doubled over, his mouth falling open as he began to dry heave. The tears didn’t relent either. His head spun, vision blurry with crystal tears that fell easily. “Ekkk...” He choked out, the urge to throw up washing over him. He stumbled across the kitchen and reached the other side, a dull sunshine making its way into his home.

Leaning over the granite countertop, he peered out the window for intrusive passersby. Oh how he wished to see you on the other side of the bulletproof glass. His fumbling fingers found the handle of the drawer, sweat covering it slickly. As he yanked it open, his bionic, vibranium hand formed a tight fist and collided itself to the window. He pulled his arm back and continued to do so, punching and hitting at the glass that held the world back from him.

Under his breath, he cursed himself for getting strong windows that didn’t have any mechanisms to open it with. But Bucky had his reasons that nobody knew about. The glass soon began to crack beneath his sheer force, distorting his beautiful view of the outdoors. The window broke completely with a loud crash and fresh, cool air filled his nostrils.

He felt the tightness in his chest slowly beginning to go away, but he was still erratic. Reaching into the drawer that was for emergency purposes only, he pulled out a thick photo album. He flipped it open and smiled when he saw the photos of you, happy and relaxed. The sight of you at his hands calmed him down. He flipped through the pages and sighed at each photo, ones that he took of you himself.

Pictures of you sleeping, of you going to buy groceries, of you showering and of you at your most vulnerable moments. In his eyes, the pictures were a form of art — derived from his love and devotion for you. Clumsily, he pulled his favorite picture out from the flimsy plastic sleeve. Freshly printed, edges sharp and almost untouched — pristine and rare.

A candid of you smiling gently, reading the book he gave you as you listened to some forties songs that he had posted on his Instagram about. You clutched the book softly and hugged a teddy bear that was from your childhood. Oh how he would kill to be wrapped in your arms, to have you bring him back from the war his mind constantly went through, to whisper sweet nothings in his ears. Bucky soon regained his grasp on reality and he looked back at the polaroid that laid on the ground.

His jaw clenched with anger and a certain emptiness filled his eyes… Almost as if the Soldat had made a reappearance in him. Raged coursed through his veins and he growled like an animal. Slipping the photo back into the album, he strided to where the polaroid laid and picked it up. He glared at it for the last time and then crumpled it in his hand, the sound of it being destroyed was like music to his ear.

He squeezes, and squeezes, and squeezes until he can’t, until the rage inside him subsides. He loosened his grip and stared at the now destroyed photo. His faint reflection stared back at him and he couldn’t bring himself to feel a bit of remorse.

You’re his, and he’s yours. He’s your saviour, your salvatore.

Your sundress still hugged your body even though dusk had settled in the sky. It had ridden up to your thighs as you laid back on the couch. The fountain pen your ex-boyfriend had gifted you twiddled between your fingers. The poor posh cap of the pen fell in between one of the cushions, lost in a cluster of dust bunnies and one dollar bills.

You stared at the blank page of the overly exorbitant Ciak Notebook your fellow classmates and colleagues would rave on and on about. You sighed before finally writing a word. Curvy, looped letters flowed as smooth as water and you felt your jittering nerves slowly calming down. Sighing, you stared at the three letters as they stared back at you, almost taunting you that it wasn’t enough. Gnawing at your dry lips, you slowly began to feel proud of yourself.

The

It wasn’t much, but it was something. The guilt of not knowing what to write next ate at you. Would you have to throw the page away if your mind chose to restart? Or would you have to force yourself to continue the sentence? You looked away as you thought about what to do, laying your eyes on a nasty print. Dirt formed in the shape of a footstep tainted the floors of the kitchen and you sighed, realizing it was from Bucky. Oh, James…

The thought of him licked at your mind, like a searing flame of temptation. You reminisced about him, and those piercing eyes, as well as his captivating chuckle and elusive aura. Your heart hurted as you thought about how his eyes held a certain sadness to them. You saw the broken soldier beneath his veneers and he was tired, tired of a certain longing that never seemed to go away. You chuckled, shaking your head as you called yourself crazy for thinking about his eyes. Oh… maybe, maybe that's it!

The strange man’s sapphire eyes are piercing. The gaze they come with almost hurts, and she’s the first thing he lays his eyes on. Soft cheery ones that are the brightest things in the world are met with sad, worn down ones. He’s longing for something new, something that would finally fill the empty void that many people eroded away at, the hole in his heart growing deeper and deeper.

You smiled to yourself as soon as you added the period, finishing the last sentence. You wondered whether or not you should continue or stop right where you had left off. You just couldn’t let that sudden, amazing burst of muse and inspiration go, right? You grabbed your glass of white wine and downed it like a single mom after a long day of worries, ready to write your little heart away.

The pen glided across numerous pages, not daring to stop at all. Your eyebrows were furrowed with concentration, the only sounds that you could hear was people talking outside and your breathing. The shrill of your obnoxious doorbell pierced through the calmness that you revelled in for the past thirty minutes. You ignored it, picking up from where you had left off but the rapid knocking on your door made you bite your tongue with shame.

Hurryingly, you rushed to the door and swung it open, looking down to see one of Mrs. Carter’s grandchildren. You couldn’t recall her name, but she was adorable. “The man w- with the long hair, he broke his window!” She exclaimed, before running off to play with her equally small friends. You furrowed your eyebrows at the absurdity, but then what she said had finally dawned on you. You never ran faster in your life, not even in your physical education classes in high school that you envied with every fiber in your body.

Thick, jagged shards of glass littered the concrete, and you were careful to avoid them. “Bucky?” You called out, peering through the window that he had destroyed. Nowhere to be found. You moved to his door and rang the doorbell more time than you could count on your fingers. A certain dread settled in the pit of your stomach, and you thought about the worst. You spun around as you tried to find some place that he would keep a spare key.

Your best bet? Underneath the ‘welcome’ rug that you stood on.

You pulled a rusted key out from under it and you unlocked the door with no hassle. “Doll?” Bucky called out, voice weak and quiet. He was hunched over, tears streaking down his face as he struggled to come down from his severe panic attacks. One came after the other, insecurities and memories tumbling down onto him and he was trapped in a ruthless circle of repetition.

You grabbed his flesh hand, wincing at how it was slightly damn from his tear. Gently, you placed his hand on his heart and soothingly reached up to caress his cheek. “Buck, you gotta breathe with me, okay? Do the same as me.” You instructed, his eyes flashing to you as you knelt down on the floor with him. You slowled your breathing down for him to match, and he followed eventually.

“That’s it… There you go…” You praised, moving your hand from his face to his soft hair, threading your fingers through his locks gently. You reached up and lightly kissed his sheen-covered forehead, soft lips almost smoothing out his splintered edges. You didn’t pull away, keeping Bucky in your arms like he was going to be stolen away from you. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, swallowing your smaller frame into his.

His tears relented but his sobs stayed, deciding that maybe they were going to spend a night or two. You refused to shush him, knowing that letting him cry everything out could make it better. His tears soaked into your skin, leaving it damp. Your eyes scanned the house, a gasp falling from your lips as you looked at the aftermath of a storm.

The walls were dented in and scratched up — the once pristine paint was ruined completely. A few photo frames were broken and a poor vase was shattered into pieces that could easily pierce through anyone’s skin; even a super soldier’s. You just knew another war had taken place in his home — one between him and his emotions. You threaded your fingers through his hair, occasionally stopping to gently untangle some slightly stubborn knots.

He sighed under your touch and smiled as his breathing returned to normal. His heart still beat harshly but it wasn’t as bad as before. You took notice too, realizing that you didn’t feel his heart beating against your chest. You were proud of him, proud that he managed to fight the demons that probably had visited him before.

You guided him to his couch that was covered in pillow fluff and some shards of glass. You tried to find him a cleared out spot to sit on but you failed. You frowned and Bucky had to resist himself from the greatest temptation of kissing you. “Shit.” You cursed, gnawing on your bottom lip. Bucky was practically vibrating as he fought for self control, and he didn’t know whether to thank the Gods or not when you stopped.

You laced your fingers with his and you smiled at the size difference. “Oh! Your bed!” You exclaimed adorably before spotting his stairs. You darted up them and hauled Bucky behind — even though he’s 260 lbs and a hundred times stronger than you. You tried to recall where his room was, but the hazy memories from that night just weren’t helping you out.

Your hand slipped from his but you hung onto his pinky finger. You gnawed at your bottom lip and tried to recall whether it was the room on your left or your right. “Left, doll.” He husked quietly, his voice no more than a whisper. It was still hoarse from the crying, but it was nothing less. “Do you often have these…?” You asked him, struggling to find the word.

“Panic attacks? Sometimes, but they’re slowly getting better.” He spoke, sitting on the bed. Unlike any normal human, he wasn’t tired from his panic attack. No amount of exhaustion hauled over him. “You’re not tired?” You asked in curiosity, taking in how messy his room was. You couldn’t blame him, though. It wasn’t like your room was any better.

“No… Serum, makes everything, y’know…” He explained, struggling with his words. “Oh, right.” You smiled at him, noticing a few small cuts on his flesh hand. “You’re hurt!” You exclaimed, a gasp leaving your mouth. Bucky didn’t even notice his injuries until you pointed them out. Why would he when you’re right in front of him? “Oh… It’s nothing, doll, don’t worry.” He reassured, before ignoring the injuries.

“I don’t think so…” You countered, wanting to help him so badly. “Uh, if you want, you can help dress them for me? Only if you want to, of course! Not going to force you or anything…” He rambled, cursing himself for sounding like a complete nerve-wrecked buffoon. “Yes please, I hate seeing you — or anyone, for a matter of fact — hurt.” You smiled at him before spinning in a circle, trying to find a first aid kit.

“You see that door there? It’s in there, bottom cabinet.” He explained again, and you let out an “oh.” You walked into the bathroom and Bucky let out an exhale of air that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Found it!” You cheered. But then you grimaced. Dried blood and dirt was smeared across the white plastic of the first aid box. “Uh, that’s from past missions, before I retired.” He clarified quickly. “Oh you retired?” You asked in shock, walking back to him.

“Yeah… It’s for the best anyways.” He sheepishly replied. “May I ask why?” You questioned, popping open the box. Bucky nodded and pointed at the bandages and wipes. You picked them up and he cleared his throat. “Well, I think it’s best for everyone. Sam… I love him, but I don’t want him to be burdened by my, you know…” He clicked his tongue and pointed at his head.

“And plus, he’s Captain America, he’s capable of doing everything on his own. As for the other Avengers? Well, they’re far stronger than me, so I think they’re fine. I still keep in touch with them, but I’m not close to them.” He sighed deeply. You didn’t even start cleaning his wounds because you were too caught up in listening to Bucky speak. Your features softened at his sad tone and words.

Sympathy took over you and you hated how that was what Bucky thought of himself. “Even though Shuri took out all the stuff, I’m still not ready to go back into daily wars. I also think I deserve a break, ‘m tired of all that violence.” He sighed deeply, before grabbing the pack of wipes that you struggled to open. “But if they ever need me, I’m just a phone call away.” He added quickly, making you give him a sad smile. He tore the aluminum open for you and you thanked him.

“Before you ask, yes, I’ve tried therapy. Sam referenced me, but it just didn’t work. I guess… I guess I’m just rotten work…” He mumbled at the end, even though you heard him loud and clear. “What!? No! You, Sir, are the farthest thing from rotten work. You- you’re a survivor! You’re strong, you’re a sweetheart, you fight for this world and you deserve nothing less than happiness and everything good in the world!” You exclaimed, taking both yourself and Bucky by surprise.

“Why do you tell yourself these things, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, cleaning up his cuts. He didn’t wince at all, but you pay no mind to that. “I… Ever since I was captured by HYDRA, that’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve thought of myself as a monster, a vile human being, a machine, the list goes on and on.” He admitted and your heart broke even more.

“They used to refer to me as ‘it,’ not a human, not a victim, not even by ‘Soldat’ and that just stuck with me.” He gulped through tears and you knew it was a sensitive subject. “Maybe you could try therapy once you’re ready? I know it may seem scary facing everything, but it’ll be worth it. You can take my advice with a grain of salt or not, but you need to know that you’re the complete opposite of any negative thing your mind comes up with. Also, fuck HYDRA.” You said with a smile on your face.

Bucky chuckled and then handed you the roll of gauze that was in his hand. “Thank you.” You whispered under your breath, before scrunching your face up in concentration. Even though you had no damn idea as to what you were doing, you were determined to bandage his wounds. Bucky’s eyes raked up and down your face and he didn’t even care if you were wrapping his wounds incorrectly.

“Uh… I know this may sound forward- but do you want to go on a second date?” Bucky asked after a few beats of silence. You choked on your spit and cursed under your breath. After a few moments, you finally calmed down. “D- date?” You questioned incredulously. “I believe that’s what I said, doll.” Bucky chuckled lightheartedly. A little “oh,” escaped your lips and you began to gnaw on your lip. Yes… yes you do have feelings for Bucky — but this is so wrong. You only left he-who-shall-not-be-named a few months ago…

But isn’t it good that you’re moving on? Your inner monologue conflicted with your entire being and Bucky can’t help but to be concerned. “Everything okay?” He asked, playing with the loose ends of the gauze. “I… Can I be honest with you, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, wringing your hands together nervously. “Of course, doll, and it’s Bucky.” He smiled.

“Well… A few months ago I got out of a toxic relationship, and I’m still healing from it. He really destroyed me, and so did the break up. I’m ready, but I’m also not ready, if that makes sense. Uhm… Is it fine if we just take it slow? Or if you can give me some time?” You shyly toks. Bucky’s heart clenched and he slowly began to nod his head. “Of course, doll. Whatever you need you can ask me.” He reassured you, feeling the urge to caress your face.

“Thank you so much, Bucky!” You gleamed delightfully. Bucky looked at you as though you hung the stars. “No need to thank me, doll. I’m just gonna be there for you every step of the way.” He shook his head in a sort of reassuring manner. Your eyes fell to your hands and Bucky worked on fixing your bandages.

“Do… Do you think we’re moving too fast?” You asked him after a few silent pauses. “I’m not sure… I think we’re moving at the right pace.” He affirmed, flopping back into his bed. You stood up and towered over him for the first and only time ever. “I mean- I barely even know anything about you! Aside from the stuff we learned in history class and any information about you before 2016 — please don’t ask. I literally kissed you, and we only met a few days before I think? I’ve only ever been in one actually serious relationship so I wouldn’t know but-” You rambled like a mad man before Bucky cut you off by grabbing onto your hand.

“Doll, you’re rambling.” He bluntly told you. “Sorry… It’s just a habit of mine.” You apologized sheepishly, growing shy and embarrassed under his almost painful stare. “I guess you may think you’re moving fast because of your last relationship. Didn’t you take it slow, doll?” He asked you, making you purse your lips. “Yes…” You answered after some momentary hesitation. “And didn’t you say it was toxic?” He questioned you, making you slowly nod your head.

“Did you want to move slowly?” He inquired after giving you a sad smile. “Well, not really. I mean- we dated for around four years and every time I’d try to move forward in the relationship he’d always tell me that we have all the time in the world.” You explained, skipping over some details because you were sure that Bucky didn’t need to know about how your boyfriend was in his best friend’s guts.

“Do you want to move at a decent pace at least?” He asked you, and suddenly you let out a hearty sigh. “I do, I really do, Bucky. But I just don’t know what a ‘decent pace’ is! Or- or how to even be in an actually decent relationship!” You cried out in hysterics. “That’s okay! I’ll teach you, don’t worry.” He reassured you, and then you realized how worked up you were.

“Really?” You asked in shock, dealing as though you were in some sort of cheesy romcom. “Mhm! Trust me, I’ve been alive for a while, so I know quite a lot.” He said with a smile. Your face mirrored his and you felt relaxed in the presence of Bucky. For now. “Uh- Thank you so much, Bucky! You’re the best-” You thanked him cheerfully, before cutting yourself off as you noticed the time.

Bucky frowned when you let out a disappointing sigh. “Is everything okay? ‘Cause I was really enjoying all that praise.” He joked around, making you giggle. “Uh yeah- I just realized that I have a job interview in an hour and should probably go get ready.” You groaned loudly, earning a snort from Bucky. “Talk to you soon?” You asked him. “Of course, doll.” He nodded his head in a sort of Jay Gatsby way and you felt tingles across your spine.

“Bye!” You said as you pressed a chaste kiss on Bucky’s cheek. You turned and left his room, leaving Bucky a blushing fool. His hand came up to touch where you kissed him and he sighed sweetly. Bucky kept his hand there and flopped back onto his bed like a teenage girl who held a five second conversation with her crush. “Oh, doll.”

You bit your lip to hold in a childish squeal. You wanted to kiss Bucky’s cheek ever since you met him, and you finally did. But unfortunately, through the euphoric feeling that was running through your body you still felt bad. There was no job application — god, you couldn’t even find it in you to print a new resumé. You lied to James Buchanan Barnes and got away with it like you were some sort of spy. But you couldn’t just tell him what you were going to do.

No way. You skipped all the ten steps to your home and couldn’t stop smiling. Is this what it’s like to be in a romcom? If it was, then you were ready to be in one for the rest of your life. You shut the door behind you and made your way up to your bedroom. Your steps echoed behind you and you bit your lip to control your smile.

You unlocked the door to your room and sat at your dresser with a sort of heaviness weighing you down. You had procrastinated it for so long, but it was time. You opened up the bottom drawer and took out the old cigar box Steve had given you to store your stories in. Your smile faltered at the memory that used to bring you so much joy. You unlatched the box and sighed deeply at the sight of Steve’s belongings.

A few polaroids of the two of you, a watch of his, a compass with your picture, a locket with his grin plastered on it, a promise ring- so many memories. Finally, it was time to let go of him. But were you ready? Were you really ready to say goodbye to the man that taught you about love? How does one say goodbye to a man like Steve Rogers? But he told you, there’s no saying goodbye to him.

Not yet, at least.

[myhaikyuuthings]

I want us

requests: Can you write a part 2 for ‘Better Man’? Like the reader ends up with Bokuto or something and ends up getting married to him while Kuroo is just kinda there, hurting. Or you can have reader and Kuroo get back together if you’d prefer, just anything ending with fluff 😔

part 2 please? 

Continuation of: better man

pairing: bokuto x reader, mentions of past kuroo x reader

fluff, angst, happy ending 

warning: mentions of past cheating, 

word count: 3770

it was longer than i intended so it continues under the cut!

 It’s cold outside, the first snow starting to fall. You sit by the window, watching with a heavy heart. It’s the first snow since your divorce, you can’t help but reminisce. 

You met Kuroo when you were just eight years old, the two of you becoming best friends. On your thirteenth birthday he told you he liked you, and that had started your first and only relationship. It was tradition for the two of you to experience the first snow together, always with soft smiles and promises to love each other for the rest of your life. 

It’s a weird feeling, to be here alone now. You sip your tea, closing your eyes as you savor the warmth it gives you. You want nothing more than to step out into the snow, put the last twelve years behind you, but it’s not so easy. Doing it without him feels wrong.  A knock against your door pulls a sigh from your lips. You peak through the window, seeing your old friend waiting. 

“Hi Bokuto-san,” you greet as you open the door, smiling as best as you can manage. 

“Aw have I been gone so long I don’t get my nickname anymore,” he pouts, opening his arms for a hug. You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Hi y/n-chan.”

“Hey Kou, how have you been? I’ve been keeping up with your games on the TV, you’re as good as ever,” you compliment, moving to let him into the house. 

“I’ve been good! I’ve missed everybody, it’s just stayed really busy and when I am free it’s always so late at night I feel bad if I text,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“I can understand that, if it’s any consolation I missed you too.”

You had met Bokuto during your first year. You were the manager in training for Nekoma where Kuroo played volleyball. The two of you had gone to the training camp and your boyfriend at the time met him after dinner one night. The two had instantly clicked, so of course you were introduced to the boy too. It sparked a great friendship and you loved your friend dearly. 

By the time the two of you met, you had been dating Kuroo for about two years. Bokuto had expressed how jealous he was that Kuroo not only had a girlfriend, but that his girlfriend was also part of his team. He was always there for both of you through high schools, a lot of your best memories were littered with his face right alongside the man you loved. 

“Where’s Kuroo anyways? Well the other Kuroo,” he asks, accepting the mug you hold out with a grin. “I wanted to surprise you guys, maybe go out for the first snow like we used to as teenagers.”

“Kou, when’s the last time you talked to Tetsurou?” you ask, your voice wavering. He tilts his head, seeming to think for a while.

“God a little over a year ago, man I’m a bad friend,” he sighs, shaking  his head. “Why is he okay?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. We got a divorce a few months ago, I haven’t heard anything from him since,” his eyes widen, concern quickly taking over the shocked expression. He grabs your hand across the table, rubbing his thumb soothingly against the back. 

“What happened? You two were the perfect couple,” you laugh a little, causing his concern to grow. 

“He cheated on me Kou, for months,” you finally tell him, your throat restricting around the words. Even now, your body rejected the memory so harshly you felt like you would throw up. 

You sit silently, his grip tightening on your hand as his face goes hard. You move to speak, shutting your mouth at the tears filling his eyes. He closes his eyes, a single tear rolling before he gets his emotions under control. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, looking deeply into your eyes. “You deserve better than that, and I can’t believe he would do something like that to you.”

“I couldn’t either, sometimes I forget and I’ll wake up to an empty house and it just,” you laugh, trying to mask the pain in your voice but you know he sees through it. He was always good at reading you, “it hits  me then, that it wasn’t just some bad dream. I’ll be okay.”

“You will, you’ll be okay,” he assures you, “he’s a piece of shit.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “He’s your best friend..” You know Bokuto has always cared about you as well as Kuroo, but at the end of the day they were the best friends. Inseparable once together, so his words threw you off.

“You loved him so much, I knew it from the first time I met you two,” he explains, his hand never once letting go of yours. “I’ve never seen anyone as in love as you were, and he threw that away. He broke you, I can see it in your eyes when I talk about him, so yeah he was my best friend but so are you, and he fucked up. You may not be asking me to take sides but I am, and I’m taking your side.” 

So the two of you sit, catching up on everything you’ve missed. His team won the last tournament, so they’ll be going to the olympics next year. Because of this, he’ll be in town for a while, the team training with other teams that will fly in to meet them. You offer to let him stay in the extra bedroom that used to be Kuroo’s home office when he says he still needs to find a apartment before his teammate Sakusa actually kills him for his ‘germs’. It takes a lot of reassurance that it’s  okay, and admitting that you had trouble sleeping without someone else in the house. 

“Just, I know I’m only twenty five,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “But even before we moved in together after highschool, our parents always let us stay at each others houses because they trusted us. I haven’t been without him for many years so it’s just hard to sleep in an empty house.”

“If you swear it’s okay, then I’ll move in, but I get to cover the rent,” he agrees, a smug look on his face as he finds a suitable solution.

“I own the apartment, it’s paid off,” you admit, watching his cheeks tint pink with a small smile. “You can cover half the other bills? We do a proper roommate situation.”

-

It was easy living with him. Sure he was a little messy, but he always made sure to clean up if you asked. After the first two times, he quickly figured out how much was an ‘acceptable’ amount of mess, and rarely went past that. The two of you had movie marathons every weekend, cuddling up on the couch with an array of movies playing. 

He was there anytime you woke up from a dream about Kuroo, your sobs carrying to his room as you realized the reality. You were there when he had a bad day at practice, comforting him and reminding him how good a player he is. He let you rant and rave anytime your heart reminded you of your past, the ache turning to anger, your eyes too dry for any tears to fall. You always calmed down, muttering apologies and thanks as he held you in his arms. Today was no different when you came home from the market, having ran into your ex husband. 

“I’m never going to love someone again,” you mumble against his chest one night. Your voice was so broken, you would have missed the tears that caught in his eyes at the sound if you didn’t have your head so close to his heart. “It’s okay Kou, it’s just better for me.”

“You’ll love someone again,” he whispers against the crown of your head, tightening his hold on you. “You deserve to be loved the way you loved him, and you’ll find that. And if any guy fucks you over again, I’ll break his face okay?” 

“Does that count for Kuroo?” you ask, only half joking. The shake of his chest as he laughs pulls a small smile to your lips. 

“It does, if he ever tries to talk to you again I’ll fight him for you okay?” Your heart swelled, a warmth feeling filling your chest. You leaned back, cupping his cheek softly. 

“I was kidding, but thank you,” you don’t miss the slight blush on his face, but you ignore it, not wanting to figure out what it means now. “My knight in shining volleyball uniform.” 

He snorts at your analogy, pulling you back into your hug. You rest your hands on his hips, giggling with him. 

“You’re something else y/n,” you can feel the smile against your head, pressing your face closer to his chest. 

“Yeah but you care about me anyways,” he gasps, your giggles echoing at his dramatics. 

“I care about you because you’re something else! One of a kind! Only girl like you in the world,” he raves, talking with his hands as you lean back to look at him. “I don’t care about you despite you being different, I care about you because you’re different. Billions of women in the world, not a single one even comes close to being like you.” 

In retrospect, you should have realized that night where this was going. But you chose to stay oblivious, subconsciously you knew you weren’t ready to move on.

-

You follow him to Brazil for the olympics, wearing his training jersey he had given you. A lot has changed in the last year, you feel lighter. You take your spot in the ‘family and friends’ section set aside for every team. His eyes caught yours as the coach talks to them, he smiles at you which you return easily. 

The game flows beautifully. It’s obvious the other team is good, the black jackals barely keeping the lead. Your cheers are loud and proud as he spikes the ball to the other side of the court, winning the game for his team. Your breath catches when his eyes immediately search for yours, his face bright. 

It’s not hard to love Koutarou. You loved him before you even realize, but once you do, it makes sense. Your mind drifts to your second year when Kuroo had been ignoring you after your first bad fight, and how Bokuto had comforted you, talked you out of  leaving him. You couldn’t deny that you had harbored a small crush for him all those years ago. Little did you know, he had as well. 

“Y/N!” His voice calls as he runs up into the stands. His arms wrap around your waist before you can react and he has you in the air. “You’re a good luck charm, I thought we were going to lose.”

“That was all you guys,” you laugh, placing your hands on his shoulders as he beams up at you. “All I did was cheer for you.”

“Your cheers are filled with luck, we only have one more team to beat and we’ll have gold!” 

“I’m proud of you,” you say, your voice soft and filled with admiration.

 The two of you are so caught up in each other that you don’t notice the camera crew a few feet away. They were waiting to interview him, but started recording when his body met yours. In the few years he had been in the spotlight, he had never been seen with someone in a romantic way. Even if that’s not how you two intended it, that’s how the whole world saw it as they broadcasted live. 

Bokuto notices the crew, setting you down and giving your shoulder a squeeze before walking over to them, his hand resting in yours. “Sorry to keep you guys waiting, I had to thank my lucky charm!”

“Your lucky charm? What’s your name miss?” the interviewer smiles sweetly at you, greeting you properly instead of ignoring your existence like you expected. 

“Oh I’m Y/N Y/L/N, but i’m not his lucky charm,” you stammer, blushing slightly which makes Kou coo at you. 

“Don’t listen to her, we’ve been friends since my first year of high school, anytime she was at a game of mine I won,” he tells her, smiling down at you, “whatever she believes, her cheering is a lucky charm for me and whatever team I’m playing with.”

“Wow you’ve known each other that long? That’s amazing, how long have you two been together, why are we only meeting her now?” 

“Oh wow, no we’re not together, she’s my best friend,” he explains, blushing brightly. 

“I’m sorry for assuming!” She apologizes, bowing deeply. You both assure her it’s okay before she continues with her interview, this time making sure her questions are only on the game. 

-

He won gold, bringing it back to Japan with his head held high and his hand in yours. Things had gotten weird after that interview, he was less affectionate with you than ever before. He didn’t want to  make you uncomfortable or let you realize his feelings for you. You had grabbed his hand when you got off the plane, your pout pulling a sigh from his lips when he tried to remove it. 

Back at your home, you sit him down with a pout on your lips and worry in your eyes. “Did I do something? You’ve always been affectionate ever since I met you but lately you seem to recoil from my touch. It’s okay I just don’t know why..”

“Oh Y/N no love,” your heart soars at the slip of the petname, his voice soft, “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable after that interview. I’m sure you weren’t happy with her assuming we were dating, or the amount of people online who had the same idea.” 

“And if I told you I didn’t mind?” you ask, looking away from him in embarrassment, “what if I told you I didn’t hate it, actually the opposite.” 

He slides closer to you, his knees pressing against yours as you two sit on your bed. He takes your chin in between his fingers lightly, turning your face so your eyes meet his. You freeze, the hope in his eyes so obvious you wonder how you didn’t figure it out sooner. He liked you too. 

“Do you mean that?” his voice was soft and husky, sending shivers down your spine. You nod, unable to find your voice. “I’ve loved you for a long time.

Long before you had your heart broken, before you married him, I’ve loved you since our second year.” He admits, you smile softly, his hand moving to rest against your cheek. 

“I know Kou, I didn’t at the time but I can see it now,” you say, leaning into his touch, “the way you spoke to me back then, how you were always there, the soft touches. I was too blind back then.”

“You were with Kuroo, it didn’t matter how I felt, a part of me was glad you never figured it out, I didn’t want to come between you two ever. No matter how much I loved you.” 

A loud knock came from the front door, breaking the intimate moment between you. Bokuto sends you a small smile, going to see who it was. He doesn’t bother looking through the peep hole, instead just opening the door. You wait in the bedroom, jumping when you hear a loud bang. You rush into the living room, seeing him standing in front of the closed door, his body tense.

“Kou?” you approach him, placing your hand on his shoulder gently. “What was that?”

He takes a deep breath as the knocking on the door starts up again. Turning to you, he gives you a tight smile and asks you to go back to the bedroom. When he realizes you aren’t going anywhere, he flings the door open as the knocking turns into a banging. 

“What the fuck Bokuto?” You freeze, you haven’t heard his voice in nearly two years. Your grip on Bokuto tightens, his hand coming up to push you behind him.

“I should be asking you that Kuroo,” his voice is colder than you’ve ever heard it, the anger radiating off of him nearly scaring you. “Why are you here?”

“I saw the broadcast from the Olympics, I had to know if Y/N was with you now, I guess this answers my question,” he scoffs, gesturing to you hiding behind Bokato, wearing one of his t shirts that covered your shorts. 

“You have no right to know who she is or isn’t with, did you forget what you did?” Bokuto steps forward, your hand falling from it’s place around his bicep. “Did you forget Kuroo? Do I need to remind you?”

“I know what I did, but you were my friend too,” you wince at the pain in his voice, you feel a bit guilty for liking Bokuto when he says it like that. 

“Yeah I was, and you were her husband, I guess we both let down people who we never should have,” he moves to shut the door, Kuroo’s hand stopping it. No sooner than you can process it, Bokuto’s fist collides with your ex husband, blood gushing from his nose almost immediately. 

“Kou!” You gasp, grabbing onto him before he can hit him again. 

“I told you, if he showed his face in front of you again I was going to hit him,” he whispers, trying to calm himself. Kuroo curses, cupping his nose. You feel bad, bringing him a wash cloth and ice pack.

“Here, for the nose,” you whisper, holding it out to him. Bokuto scoffs beside you, his hand resting on your waist. “I’m sorry he hit you, but you kind of deserved it.”

“Kind of?” “Kou enough, please.” 

Kuroo accepts the items with a small thanks. Wiping the blood that ran down his face, he turns to the two of you. “Are you two together? Can you just tell me that Y/N?” 

“You should go,” is the only answer you give him. Once you’re sure he’s gone you turn to Bokuto, “you really hit him.”

“I’ll do it again if I have to,” he says, not looking  even the least bit regretful of his actions. 

“Can I kiss you Koutarou?” 

His lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence, hands holding onto your hips tightly. You moan into the kiss, your hands gripping his upper arms. The feeling of his lips against yours felt better than you could have ever imagined, the soft groans leaving his lips telling you he felt the same. You pressed your  body closer to his, your chest flush with his. He pulls you even closer, taking a few steps backwards until he sits on the couch, you falling onto his lap. 

“I love you, and I know you don’t feel that way about me yet, that’s okay,” he pants, looking up at you. “But I need to know if you really want this, us before we do anything else.”

“I want us, I want you,” you reply, your hands playing with the hair at the base of his neck. His hairs down, and you decide this is your favorite look on him. 

“Yeah?” he can’t keep the smile from his face as you nod, his heart feeling satisfied for the first time in years. “I’m really glad I never moved on from you.” 

His lips find yours once more, and you melt into him.

-

You never thought you would be standing here again. It’s been nearly four years since you started dating Bokuto, and he asked you to marry him two months ago. You didn’t want a big wedding this time around, and he agreed, just wanting to marry you, regardless of how many people were there. 

You stand, the sand between your toes, your dress brushing against your knees as the wind blows. He wanted a beach wedding, and you didn’t have the heart to say no. He stands at the ‘altar’, his outfit casual but beautiful to you. His smile is wide, eyes full of love as you approach him.

“I love you, you look perfect,” he praises you, his hands taking yours. “Are you ready for this?”

“I’m ready love,” you smile, cooing at the teary eyed smile he gives you. 

The wedding was small, intimate, but just as lovely as your first. If not better. Only your immediate family and closest friends were present, all of them happy for the two of you. It was a small reception, hardly anything, more of a beach party than a wedding reception. 

You found yourself tangled in his arms as you sway to the music, your heart light, at peace. 

“Thank you for trying to surprise me that day,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I don’t know where I would be if you hadn’t shown up then.”

“You’d be right here,” he shrugs, a sure smile on his face, “one way or another, I would have found out and been at your doorstep ready to help you. You falling in love with me is just the cherry on the cake for me, I was happy as long as you were, it didn’t matter who you were with. As long as you had that smile on your face, I would step aside every time for someone else to love you.”

“The only person I will ever love as much as you, is our baby,” you laugh as his eyes widen, he stops swaying, his grip on  you tightening slightly.

“I don’t know if you’re saying you want kids or if you’re saying you’re already pregnant,” his voice is quiet, not giving anything away. 

“I found out two days ago.” The scream of joy that fell from his lips had everyone jumping, never quite used to his outbursts. You giggle, his hands holding you up in the air with the happiest look on his face. He puts you down, pulling you into a deep kiss. 

“Best day of my life,” he says, kissing you between each word. 

Maybe you got it wrong the first time you got married. But you knew, standing before him now, that you got it right this time. 

[yeeharley]

For @ironxprince 

Peter’s tired.

So bone-achingly, soul-crushingly tired. 

This hasn’t happened since Ben had died, a long, long time ago, and this time, it might even be worse, because Peter doesn’t understand why. He doesn’t want to get out of bed, doesn’t want to make himself breakfast, doesn’t want to work on the new Spider-Man suit that Tony’s been raving about for three months straight.

He just... doesn’t. Isn’t. Won’t.

Maybe it doesn’t make sense. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Peter can recognize that he’s spiraling, that his thoughts don’t even make sense to him. Maybe he just doesn’t want to accept that he doesn’t understand, that he doesn’t know what he’s thinking or what he wants.

He’s just so tired.

School earlier that day had been absolute hell. Between his lack of an attention span, Flash’s lack of a filter, and Ned’s lack of an ability to just stop talking for five minutes, Peter hadn’t even made it through two classes before he’d excused himself under the guise of having forgotten about a photography assignment and had come back to himself under the bathroom sink.

It had been a sensory overload, he thinks. But he could always be wrong. He’s been wrong a lot lately, it seems.

It feels like his sad, empty presence is starting to rub off on people. Peter considers himself an excellent judge of emotions (unlike Ned) and he can tell that, when he walks into the room, everything gets quiet. Sad. Empty.

He feels like a vacuum. Tony’s constantly worrying about him. The few minutes he sees May before she goes to work in the mornings, she treats him like porcelain. Harley, though?

Harley’s the worst.

He’s busy a lot, what with this being his senior year of high school. Always working on projects or designs, perched on the edge of his desk chair in his room (the room that they used to share) with his eyes glued on his computer.

He’s so smart, and he’s going to do great things. 

Sometimes, though, Peter feels like he’s holding him back.

It’s one of those late work nights for Harley, and he’s still sitting at his desk with his back hunched over like an old man. There are three cans of Red Bull next to his hands, and as his fingers fly over the keyboard, Peter wonders if that’s all he’s had.

Peter watches him from Harley’s bed (their bed), eyes dull and tired. He wants to go to sleep, because right here, in the safest room with his safest person, he feels more exhausted than he has in a week.

But he doesn’t want to go to bed if he isn’t snuggling with his Harley, and Harley looks so focused that he knows that he won’t be ready to lay down for at least an hour.

“You almost finished?” Peter asks, trying to hide the hope in his drowsy voice. “Harls?”

Harley types out another sentence and before turning to eye Peter over his shoulder, neck craning. His curls don’t look as gold as they normally do when they’re backlit with the white-blue light of his computer; they’re pale. Glowy. Like he’s about to start blasting Let It Go and shooting ice out of his hands.

“-eter? Peter, honey?” 

Peter shakes himself out of his lovey-dovey thoughts, eyes wide. Harley looks worried (he doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want Harley to worry). He turns around all the way, kicking his feet against the floor to move his chair, and leans forward with his hands resting on his knees.

“Are you okay, honey?”

He wants to nod, wants to tell him that he’s fine and he should go back to work because he looks so busy. In the end, though, the battle between his heart (tell him and get help, you need to sleep) and his head (let it go and wait for him to finish) is won by the former.

Peter shakes his head, and his face crumples, exhaustion winning out after a weeks-long struggle.

Harley’s across the room before he can blink, kneeling down on the carpeted floor and taking Peter’s face between warm, worn hands. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, tilting his head so he can see Peter more clearly. “Talk to me, Peter.”

Through his tears, Peter sees the gentle smile that curls across Harley’s lips (that smile, that beautiful, shining smile) and it makes him cry even harder.

“I’m just- just tired,” he sobs, reaching up with his left hand to grip Harley’s wrist. The floodgate opens and it all comes spilling out- months of exhaustion and anger and unanswered desperation.

And Harley just… listens. He sits there, knelt on the carpet at what must be an uncomfortable angle, and listens as Peter cries about what a hard time he’s been having lately and how he feels alone all the time.

And, when Peter’s cried himself out, Harley climbs up onto the bed and pulls Peter back to the top, burying him under comforters and propping him up on pillows with that gentle touch he reserves for Peter and Peter only. Once he’s got him all warm and situated, Harley crawls under the covers himself. Winds his arms around Peter’s shoulders and pulls him close, one hand gently stroking his hair, the other holding him to his chest.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he whispers.

Peter takes a shuddering breath and nods, burrowing into Harley’s embrace. “It’s okay. I understand why.”

Harley shakes his head. “It’s not. But I’m here now, okay? I’m here.”

And, in the low light of Harley’s computer, Peter cries himself out and falls asleep with a light head for the first time in a month.

It feels good to know that Harley’s always going to be there for him.

[rosemarie--h]

( zoey deutch. 25. she/her. ) i think i just saw ROSEMARIE  JANE HARMON ride by on a golf cart . at least i think it was them . after all , I MISS THE MISERY BY HALESTORM was blasting on the transistor radio . maybe they were on their way to work , i hear they’re a BARTENDER AT THE WATERING HOLE . but they totally could have been on their way to PLAY PRANKS ON THE MEMBERS. guess we’ll never know . you’ll definitely know its them when you see RIPPED BLACK JEANS, SOUND OF 90'S ROCK AND DILATED PUPILS around the country club . let’s just hope they stay off the green after hours or else the sprinklers will get them ! ( marie. 26. est. she/her. none. ) 

tw: child neglect, tw: drugs, tw: suicide

I couldn’t help myself and brought my old rebel  child back. I just love my messy and broken girl.!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Matthew and Stacey Harmon where the epitome of what success should look like. They were a young couple who had come from nothing and mounted to be the most sought-after criminal defense lawyers in the United States. They were known for their poise and ability to handle high profile cases with dignity and discretion. Their clients ranged from high-grossing actors and celebrities to politicians and other government officials. And in the years since their jump into high profile, they had built up an image that both always strived to be. They had to be picture perfect. Perfectly put together. Fit the part of success. So naturally, when they became pregnant, it wasn’t something they had planned or particularly wanted. They tried to keep the pregnancy as quiet as possible, and while they had always had the option of abortion or adoption, for some reason the Harmons had allowed the pregnancy to go full term.

Rosemarie Jane Harmon was born on August 5th, 1992 and unlike most babies, Rose was not held by her mother immediately after birth. In fact, she had been refused and sent immediately to the hospital nursery. The rest of her life followed in similar fashion. Rose had come into her parents’ life as unwanted and unloved. A child ruined the image the stoic lawyers had tried to build for themselves and their practice, especially as child as lively and rambunctious as Rose had been from the start. Rose had probably been embraced by her parents only a handful of times, most of the love she received growing up coming from the Nanny – Elizabeth Green – that had been hired to raise her. But even Elizabeth – the only mother figure she had truly grown to know – was taken from her once Stacy deemed Rose old enough to take care of herself.

Growing up without any love or affection had Rose searching for it in all the wrong places from a very young age. It started off innocently enough – mostly confined to causing trouble at home, just so she could get a flicker of attention from her father or mother but that stopped working, her cries become louder. Living in Atlanta, it wasn’t hard to find trouble. In school, Rose started to hang out with the wrong crowd. Though, the more trouble she found, the less it seemed her parents cared, almost slowly fazing her out of their image.

She was 17 when she first fell from grace. At a rave, Rose stuck her tongue out, letting a tablet be pressed to her tongue for the first time. She’s been after that high ever since. It was the closest thing that she could imagine love felt like. It took her away from the feeling of worthlessness that plagued her because of her parents’ incapability of loving her as parents should love their children. It took her away from the pain of missing her only mother figure who never tried to reach out to her despite promising a young rose she would on the day she was let go. It took her away from the depression that ran through her body despite her refusal to acknowledge it.

From that moment on, Rose lived searching for the occasional high to get her feeling alive again but for the most part, she had it under control, still having a firm grip on reality. But everything began to take a different path when she met Andrew. He was older than her, a good five years. But despite their age difference, they had immediately hit things off and it wasn’t long before Rose had fallen completely head over heels for him. He was the first person she opened up to him about her home life and when Andrew heard of her misery, he had given her the option to follow him to his next destination.

With no family or real friends to hold her back, Rose didn’t hesitate to pack what she could when her boyfriend at the time asked her to run away with him. They hit the road then and Rose hasn’t been back to Atlanta since. When her and Andrew landed in Chicago, Rose’s eyes were opened to a new world – mostly for the worse. He introduced her to a world of endless fun and chemically induced euphoria. It was with him that the dependency for drugs began to really grow. It started off her a tablet of molly here or there, like she had been doing in Atlanta, and before she knew it, she was doing a line in the bathroom of a club.

About a year or so after being together, Rose’s world would soon fall apart. One morning, after a typical night of partying, she woke up to find that Andrew was dead. He had overdosed and she’d been too high too notice. By the time she had woken up, it had been too late. So, Rose got up, called the cops and ran before they got there.

Rose’s already fragile heart was shattered at losing the one person that had loved her in this cruel world. The one person she had loved unconditionally. And the grief fueled her addiction even further. 

From that day forward, Rose lived most of her minutes high or searching for the next dose. It didn’t really matter where the high came from, she just craved that feeling of euphoria, of being alive, of numbness. If it came from a tablet of molly, fine. If it was from a shot of heroin, cool. A mixture of opioids, why not? A smoke of meth- what was the harm? But her favorite way to lose herself was from a line of cocaine. Rose began to live a very nomadic life, travelling where she wanted, making connections as she went, crashing on their couches and starting all over again. There were times when she became so drugged, she would party for days, unable to settle down enough to stop and sleep. She got into fights. Spent many days in stupors, a haze. She wouldn’t have a clue of the reality around her.

Rose was twenty, when she OD’d for the first time and was admitted into rehab for her addiction. After a few months of rehab, Rose was released, and she wasted no time in falling back into her vices. She continued to jump from place to place, never staying no longer than a few weeks at a time. In her travels, she had several relapses, a couple of times causing her to be readmitted into rehab. But sadly, her addiction was stronger than her will live.

That was until she met Finely but Finley is someone Rose never talks about.

If Rose lived in shadowed lands, then Finley lived in other darkness. There was fragility around this woman that had drawn Rose to her immediately. Their initial time was spent mostly just hooking up but it was in the quiet moments that Rose fell. Finley was the other half of her, her true and tragic soulmate. Her star crossed lover. 

There was a part of her that always knew Finley wouldn’t exist on this Earth forever. There was a sadness and exhaustion that clung so tightly to her love and even when there seemed to be a little light that shined through, it wasn’t enough. 

The day Rose walked into their apartment and found that Finley had taken her life, was as expected as it was a shock. She still doesn’t know how long she clung to Fin’s body, sobbing for her to come back before she finally called for help.

Rose has never been the same. 

The loss completely eviscerated her. There was a gaping hole left in her chest and Rose went down a spiral to rock bottom, trying to fill or numb that hole. 

Rose has never been truly sober since that day 2 years ago and while she has gotten her vices under somewhat of control, she still very much relies on them on a day to day basis. Just enough to numb the hurt that never seems to go away. 

When she arrived in Highland at 1 year ago, Rose was probably at the lowest she had ever been. But trying to keep her promise to Finley, Rose has tried to make the best of things. She landed a job at the Watering Hole and has found a apartment to live in with a roommate.

And though every day is a struggle for her, Rose feels that she’s on the right track to turn her life around. Or at least, pretend to.

Important Facts: - Rose has a lot of emotional and mental issues due to her past. Mostly, she has this abandonment complex and she struggles every day with a heavy sense of worthless. - Has been clean for two and a half years. - She still clings to the party scene, though she now stays away from illicit substances, she has no issue with throwing back a few shots. - Rose hasn’t been in a relationship with anyone in about 2 years and is very happy that way. She doesn’t want to get hurt again. And she isn’t sure she can love again. - Loves animals and often volunteers at the shelter - LOVES cats and wants one but considers herself too unstable to own a pet. - Hasn’t spoken to her parents since she left Atlanta and pretends it doesn’t bother her, but it does. - On her left side, Rose has a tattoo. It’s the quote “without struggle, there is no progress” in cursive writing. - Has lived in Atlanta, Chicago, Nashville, New Orleans, a few other places until she came back to Georgia and settled in Peaches Hollow.

Personality - Rose lives impulsively, acting first and thinking later. - She doesn’t hold back and certainly doesn’t censor herself. Rose is the most straightforward person around and she will tell you how it is, whether it hurts your feelings or not. - Fun is priority in her life. Having grown up so unloved and hidden away in her youth, she is desperately trying to fill that gap in her life. She will jump from club to club, party to party, a shot of tequila in her hands always. Mostly, she is afraid that if she stops, allows herself to feel, every heartache she has ever felt will coming rushing at her. - Attachments are a no go for her, especially romantic ones. She’s fine with hook-ups, in fact she rather enjoys them, but once she or her partner start to develop feelings, she flees. If you don’t let anyone close, you can never be hurt. - Losing Finley broke something inside of Rose and she’s very keen on not giving that part of herself way. She doesn’t know if she can love again or if she has any to give. Most of the time, however, Rose tends to develop friendships with her partners. She’s pretty laid back and goes with the flow which makes everything easier. - Rose is super protective of those she considers close to her and will do almost anything for them. - Once you get past her wit and sass, Rose is the sweetest person you would ever meet, even if she’s rough around the edges. But good luck getting her to open emotionally.

[jj-lynn21]

“Of all the things you said. That hurt the most”

“Of all the things you said. That hurt the most” AU Bill Skarsgard

It was late when the Premiere red carpet was over. And Bill was contractually obligated to stay to watch the movie with the room full of industry people and reporters. You had no desire to watch this one. It was going to be a brutal war story based on a true story. You knew he, well his character would dye in the end.  

You fussed at him in the car. “I hate movies like this.”

“Then why did you beg me to go to my next premiere so people would see our picture together on the red carpet?” His eyebrow raised at you questioning.

“I didn’t realize your next movie was going to be a bloody war piece.” You whined.

“We just have to walk through and take a few pictures.” He assured you holding you close in the limo. “If you never want to watch it, you don’t have to.”

He didn’t know until he got there that he was expected to stay so reporters could ask questions after. You complained the whole time barely smiling for the photo ops.  

“I don’t want to smile.” You pouted.

“Then don’t.” He kissed your cheek as the cameras flashed. His face as placid as yours when he looked at everyone.

“These heels hurt my feet.” You whined.

“You can take them off inside.” He whispered in your ear.

Once you got inside and took your shoes off you fussed even more. “It is too cold in here.”

Bill wrapped his jacket around you. “Is that better sweetheart?”

You snuggled into him. “My feet are cold.”

He lifted your legs up so he could warm your small feet with his large hands.

When the first bullets flew at the opening of the movie you shuddered burying your face in his arm. It stayed there until the credits rolled but you still heard the pain in his voice as the fatal shot killed his character. You were sobbing as you left the theater for the Q & A.   Not your best look as the camera flashed hitting you like the bullet in Bill’s character’s heart.  

You had to stand off to the side as Bill took the stage with others involved in the film. You were happy it was limited to one hour only of questioning. You tapped your foot. Arms hugging your body. Your eyes glaring and red. Your so called waterproof Mascara smeared down your cheeks. The movie was getting rave reviews from the critics in the audience. This should have put Bill in a great mood but looking at you being so miserable doused his happiness.  He held you in silence on the way home.  

As soon as you got inside your shared apartment you turned to Bill with the most evil intentions. “That was the worst movie you have every done. What made you think you could possibly pull off that character in a believable way?”

His mouth hung open stunned by your words. “Of all the things you said. That hurt the most.” He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

“Of all the things you said. That hurt the most” Roman

“Of all the things you said. That hurt the most.” Roman grabbed your wrists before you could smack him again. All he said was your pussy must be tight as fuck. Usually that had any girl drenched and begging for him to fuck her.

“I mean it.” You growled. “You are a lousy lay. Everyone in school says so. Why would I possible spend the night with you if you are a lousy lay. Now let me go.  

Roman smirked. “I have not fucked any of those little girls on campus. I was going to make an exception for you. I thought that you were a woman that could handle me instead of one of those little whores that just fantasized about me.” He put your hand on his bulge. Then let you go turning to walk away. “I guess you will never really know the truth of what my cock can really do to a woman.”  

You watched him arrogantly saunter away like he knew you would come after him out of curiosity or just plain lust. And you did.

“Of all the things you said. That hurt the most” Mickey

You came home from midnight shift at the local all-night grocery store. Mickey was up waiting on the couch. Well kind of. His big eyes rolled towards you with a laugh on his lips as though you coming in the door at that exact minute was the funniest thing he ever saw. There were pills, cocaine and weed all over your mirrored coffee table.

“Mickey!” You started to cry uncontrollably. “This has to stop. I love you but I can’t come home to your possible corpse. I am just going to have to leave you even if my heart breaks to a zillion million pieces.” You ran into the bedroom to pack.  

Mickey came in wrapping around your back. “Of all the things you said. That hurt the most. I cannot let your heart break into a zillion million pieces. I really love you. Don’t go. That was the last time. I promise. I won’t die on you. I just need you to be strong.” He broke down crying, crashing from his high. His lip quivered as he looked at you.  

You turned and held him as you sat on the bed. You both cried until you were all cried out. You hoped it was the last time you would find him like this for both of your sacks.

“Of all the things you said. That hurt the most” Mark

“I fucking hate you.” Mark threw a plate that just missed your head by inches.

“Well, I fucking hate you right now.” You screamed back at him. “I don’t know why I ever came here. I should have quarantined with my parents instead being couped up with a lunatic like you.”

“Then fucking go.” He pointed to the door. Get on a covid filled plane and fucking dye...” He suck in his breath like he was trying to suck the words back in his mouth. He knew he went too far.

You dropped your hands off your hips. Your face lost all color. “Fuck you.” Tears welled. “Of all the things you said. That hurt the most”

“Oh, Princess, I’m sorry.” He dropped to his knees in front of you grabbing ahold of your hips. “I would never wish that for you. We can have whatever you want for Thanksgiving. Mash potatoes and stuffing. You don’t have to choose just one.”  

“Damn right you better beg my forgiveness.” You glared at him.  

“Of all the things you said. That hurt the most” Axel

“It hurts how much I miss you Axel.” You were at a work conference across the country for the 10th week in a row.  

The last time you were in your lovers arms it was just to sleep a few hours before boarding another plane to the next conference. You knew this job would take you away on adventures of a lifetime. That was before you met him. Now it made you miserable every time you had to leave. You have not even felt him inside you for months. Your core ached for him on lonely nights.  

He tried to make you feel better from afar, but it was not the same as his fingers brushing through your folds. The way he curled his index finger inside you rubbing your clit to work you up. Then letting his dick do the rest of the work to push you right over the edge of ecstasy with him. How he held you and told you what a good girl you are for him. This is why you were so shocked to hear what he said to you.

“Maybe you just should not come back.” You heard Axel take a deep sigh. “Just go trait to Los Vegas.”  

“Of all the things you said. That hurt the most.” You started to cry.

“Don’t cry, Babygirl.” He was holding back his emotions. “You would only have a few hours here before heading back out. That is torture for both of us. My heart can’t take it. Seeing you for a few moments is worse than not seeing you at all. You told me last week convention season is almost done. What do you have one, two, three more weeks to go?”

“It is five.” You whined.

Axel groaned. “Fuck.”

[tired-college-student-writing]

The Painter’s Daughter Ch 3

Summary: Marinette is the daughter of two bakers

Marinette is a happy sometimes naive girl

Marinette is loved to create and make more than they liked to destroy

or was she?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 

Chapter 3 (HERE)

Chapter 4

_________________________________________

Marinette grew and grew.

At age 5 her mother married the baker across the street and all of them ended up hyphenating their names to Dupain-Cheng, Tom became her Papa after her Dad reassured her it was alright on one of his visits as he brought her fabric flowers and a lovely set of paintbrushes. He was always bringing her gifts, mostly art supplies but sometimes sketches he’s made and even one of his paintings, given on Her first birthday after Helen met her. When people came over they always commented on the odd brown painting in her room, how it didn’t seem to match the rest of the decor, a sprawling landscape with a single woman resting up a tree, hair blowing in the wind Marinette just shrugged and said it was a present from her dad, one Mama hadn’t been too pleased about.

At age 7 she met her rival, Chloe Bourgeois, and ranted and raved about her to her Mama, Papa, and Dad. Her mother looked worried every time she ranted for a while before she overheard her Dad offering to turn Chloe into paint only for Mari to scrunch her nose and tell him that she didn’t want to be the reason someone died. She knew what her Dad was, knew what he did, and she still loved him but she would not allow him to work in her name.

At age 10 she had mastered sewing and began making her own clothes. It took a few times to get right, but she had a lot of practice patching things up since her Dad often had cuts and rips in his clothes and she hated to see him look anything less than his best. Whoever heard of a ragamuffin serial killer after all. Soon she was making her the majority of her own clothes from the fabrics her Dad and parents bought her, and she made them cl too. The creeps often commented on The Painter’s new outfit, an updated version of his old one and asked if they could have some too. By age 12 Marinette had endeared over two dozen creeps to her by eagerly making them more durable clothes for them to wear on hunts and willingly patching them up if they promised not to hunt in Paris outside of missions they were required to do.

At 13, Marinette was given the Ladybug Miraculous, becoming a heroine. Her Dad had laughed hysterically at this when he visited after she first transformed, feeling the ancient magic swirling through her, claiming her as much as Slender’s magic did. They had always been worried about her becoming a creep or proxy, unfeelingly ending lives like her father and here she was, with the magic to heal and bring life back. The power of creation from a being just as old as Slenderman and Zalgo.A true holder of the Ladybug earrings, born to control the magic of creation Tikki had greeted the creep with a warm smile and fierce eyes, telling him that her bug was safe, safer then she ever was before even if she was flipping over rooftops and fighting magical foes.

At 14, a new rival appears right as Chloe is starting to try harder, this one is named Lila. Helen’s blood boils as he listens to his daughter’s tales, knowing this girl would be the exact he would string up by her ankles and bleed like a pig for his next piece if only he promised years ago to leave anyone in Paris alone. He still offered though, and this time her refusals were hesitant and unsure, as the words got harsher and harsher as the lies spun became more intricate.

At 15, the class showed their true colors and the once-bustling friend group broke apart into two camps, Team Lila, with Alya, Myrlene, Sabrina, Rose, Juleka and Ivan, and Team Marinette, with Nino, Max, Nathanial, Kim, Alix, and Chloe. Adrian was strictly neutral, refusing to take either side, fearful of his father finding out about the mini-war and removing him from school. Her Dad wanted to remove him himself but Marinette told him no. The boy was sheltered beyond belief and had to be convinced that the lair’s constant unwanted touching was sexual harassment clear and simple. He meant no harm with his ill-suited advice and ideals of the high road.

Now at 16, she was faced with an even bigger issue.

Her Dad had arrived unannounced as always, never knowing when he’d freely be able to come visit without the police trailing him. They ate dinner, all four of them talking as they always did, avoiding talking about Helen’s job, instead asking about new stories of creeps’ blunders. After dinner, the married couple had shooed her and her dad upstairs so they could clean up.

“I want to kill someone,” She told her dad, slowly once the door to her room was shut, from where she sat on her chaise, sketchbook balanced on her knees as she sketched without looking at it. She couldn’t tell anyone else her thoughts, mama and papa would both panic, others would think she was insane…

"Let me do it," He offered as easily as if he was offering to drive her to her friend's house as he sat down next to her, “I’m sure they would make a lovely painting for you to hang on the wall. Just tell me who. Or if not a painting I’m sure Jeff would put them to sleep, or EJ could make a meal out of them, or-”

“You don’t get it,” She hissed, eyes hard as she stared forward with an unblinking stare, pencil dancing, “I don’t want them dead. I don’t want you or any of the others to handle the situation. I WANT to kill them, by my hand no one else’s, I can picture it.”

He stared at her for a long second, face blank, but she could see his form flickering. Her dad mentally was over 40 at this point and appeared it most of the time too, but Slenderman always kept the proxies the age they were when he created them. She rarely saw her father looking her age, the age he was frozen at forever.

It only came out when he was killing, or when he was in emotional turmoil and unable to keep hold of the magic-making him appear older.

He didn’t know what to say to her announcement, didn’t know what would come of it, what advice he should offer.

They both knew the rules. If she killed someone, truly intentionally killed someone, she was Slender’s. She had met the being back when she was 10, greeting the horror with a smile and gifted him a new tie, faded charcoal with red skulls seeming to be ingrained within the fabric, from a distance or through Slender’s fog it simply looked red but the effort…   She had apologized that she only made him a tie, but wasn’t sure if she could create a suit to match his dimensions as Helen had told her about his tendency to change his height and the tentacles that would appear from his back on occasion. To say that Slender was gone for the girl was stretching it, but he was pleased with her and her attitude towards the darkness that was her dad’s world.

It didn’t mean that anyone wanted her to become part of his domain permanently.

“Tell about them,” Helen finally settled on, “Why do you want to kill them.”

“Gabriel Agreste, and Lila Rossi,” She whispered, eyes faraway. He heard their names before, the absentee, borderline abusive father of his daughter’s crush and the liar that nearly broke his ray of sunshine. Two people ripe for the picking if only Marinette hadn’t ruled Paris off-limits to all creep hunting that wasn’t mandated by Slenderman.

But she told them that they didn’t deserve to be killed.

“What changed?”

He couldn’t quite keep the snarl out of his voice, but Marinette didn’t comment instead of continuing to stare at the wall.

“Gabriel hired Lila to keep an eye on Adrian, back when she first came back. They struck up a deal where she reports back to him about what Adrian and his friends won’t and in exchange, she can model with Adrian all she wants and gain the benefits of being a Gabriel Model, along with having open access to Adrian. This was after she broke into their house and posted a picture of her kissing Adrian’s cheek without his permission. He knew what kind of person she was and still, he struck up a deal and refused to let Adrian tell him about any problems he had with Lila. He shut Adrian down every time he tried to tell him about the sexual harassment, about isolating him from the rest of the class.”

She paused pain flickering in her blank depths, “Then last week Chat Noir showed up on my balcony in tears, shaking so bad I was surprised he didn’t fall off any of the roofs on his way over. He told me he really needed a friend he could trust, someone he could be truthful with and transformed in front of me, begging me not to turn him away, not to call my parents. Adrian basically curled up on my bed at that point and wouldn’t stop sobbing. He told me how Lila had slipped him something, how he couldn’t move as she took off his clothes and…”

She paused as the mechanical pencil shattered under her grip, plastic scattering across the room, anger flashed across her face for a second before

“He begged me not to tell anyone because he didn’t think anyone would believe him. His dad wouldn’t even let him talk about the sexual harassment to him, he didn’t want to be shut down trying to explain. He’s been running around as Chat Noir for since then, only stopping here to shower and get food. Plagg is furious and wants to kill them too, but refuses to leave Adrian for even a few minutes. He’s… he’s so very broken, Dad. His eyes are more hollow than some of the proxies. I’m surprised he hasn’t been akumatized yet.”

“You won’t let me kill them?” He asked again, hands trembling as his image flicked down to 14 and refused to rise again.

“No, because I don’t just want them dead,” She laughed hollowly, “I’ve been drawing these for the last three days.”  

She flipped around the sketchbook to show the two new outfits she had drawn. On the left was a bleached white leather suit, flawlessly put together with bulky buttons just as white as the suit. On the right was a leather dress, dyed deep red with a ribbed corset. He didn’t understand what was wrong with the designs until he looked closer and saw faces on the back of each outfit, the suit had a face with its eyes and ears sewn shut with venomous green thread, while the face on the dress was split in two, one half scowling with a black eye, with a horn stabbed through the temple, the other a smiling happily as a green eye. Each material was listed as she usually did, but instead of the usual fabrics, all it said over and over again was hair, skin, bone.

“A death worthy of a proxy,” He commented slowly, not sure what else to say.

Silence overtook them. Both knowing what lay ahead, but being scared of what could come up.

A knock at the balcony door made both of them jump, Helen’s glamor instinctively rising up.

“Chat,” She called, a blond head poking through the trapdoor only for him to freeze when he saw Helen.

“Easy Kitty,” Marinette whispered, “This is my Dad, remember I told you how he stops by every once in a while when his work allows it. He’s safe, I promise.”

“Safe for you guys,” He mumbled, “the rest of this city outside of this house? Not so sure anymore.”

Chat gave him a weary look but slowly moved down the steps, “What does that mean?”

Helen looked at the boy, passed the mask and the blank expression and really looked. Marinette was right, he looked broken, broken as a new proxy, one that was still scrambling to understand they had reached their breaking point, to realize what they had done now that the bloodlust and sickness had faded. He looked like Helen had back when he first killed Tom.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“You’re going to detransform,” He told him, “Get a shower and eat. Then we’ll talk.”

He turned on his heel and marched down the steps to the kitchen where he found Sabine and Tom relaxing.

The pair jumped at his sudden appearance especially since he had shifted back to 14 as so as he closed Marinette’s door.

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked, “Business?”

Helen frowned, then sighed, “Maybe, but… it’s complicated. Chat Noir is here though and he needs food, I don’t think he’s eaten at all today.”  

Sabine’s eyebrows furrow, “Is that why Marinette’s been sneaking food? She could have said something, of course, we’d feed her partner.”

Helen snorted at that as he helped the woman go through the leftovers and make up a heaping plate, along with some leftover pastries from the bakery, “I’m fairly certain that she doesn’t know you two know about her being Paris’ saving grace, plus she promised him that she wouldn’t tell anyone he was here. Something bad happened to him, in his civilian life.”

“How bad?”

“I’ve seen proxies and creeps form from less,” He admitted, “He’s in danger of snapping.”

He disappeared upstairs with the food before they could respond.

There floating in front of Marinette was a tiny cat-like being. Power pulsed off of it making the hair on the back of Helen’s neck stand on end. Plagg, the cat of destruction.

“So,” Helen started, “You’re the counter to Tikki’s power then? Almost felt like Zalgo in here.”

The cat hissed, “Don’t compare me to that bastard. He’s an ass and deserves a solid cataclysm to the face.”

Helen smirked, “Ah so this is why Slender said you were an interesting being. Either way, I’m Helen, and we need to talk.”

“If you want to break my kit-”

Helen cut him off harshly, voice like ice, “Don’t. While some of my coworkers are assholes, I would never intentionally break anyone, but Adrian is holding on by a thread and something needs to be done if you don’t want to become part of the next creep, or worse, down a user.”  

His whiskers drooped as he glanced towards the closed bathroom door, “... What do you have in mind?”

Sabine and Tom didn’t check on Marinette until the next morning and were only slightly surprised to see a note signed with a smiley face, ladybug, and cat on her made bed.

The kids need to see what happens if they snap.

_________________________________________

Tag List: @marinettepotterandplagg @sassakitty

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Girl you need, pt.2

Summary: Friends to lovers didn’t really work out for Y/N and Grayson after Grayson made the big mistake of not telling her he is already involved with someone else.

Warnings: angst

Word count: ~ 2.8k

Part one

Months have passed and I remained in my own bubble. Routine. That's the way I survived. School, work, home. It was a sure way to avoid any reminders of the man who broke my heart worse than anyone before him. I gave him that power – the power to annihilate me, reduce me to a sobbing mess at two after midnight upon dreaming of him.

It hurt. So. Damn. Much.

I don't know if you've ever had someone in your life that you put on a pedestal. In your heart and in your mind that person could do no wrong. They represented all you were searching for, and not just in this life, but every life you've lived before - if you believe in reincarnation. Hell, I was so sure that he was made for me and that this was our origin story. I truly thought whatever his soul is made of matched the material used on mine. I believed the universe stitched out this spider web where we wandered, balanced on the strings until they led us to one another.

I was such a romantic fool. I wished I could go back in time and slap myself. Shake myself up until I saw the truth I was so blind to.

Until I got that call.

„Y/N, it's Lisa. I know it's been a long time, but I could really use your help with the boys. Grayson is really out of it and Cameron is trying to help, but it's not going as planned.“ I frown, feeling my heart drop once I heard his name, the very name I refused to even think about let alone utter out loud. What made me frown deeper is the fact Lisa called for my help and she never calls just for kicks.

„What happened?“ I try to remain calm, wondering if perhaps something terrible occurred and my chance to see the asshole who broke my heart, and then proceeded to set the pieces on fire, was gone.

„They both had surgery and they're loopy and bleeding and I can't get them in the car. I'll send you the address.“ And the line went silent, the message coming through almost immediately after with the address of a private clinic ten minutes away from my house...Three minutes with a good Uber driver.

Shaking, my stomach in knots, I swallow a growing lump in my throat and start grabbing my things.

„Hey, I'm gonna be out for the day.“ I warn my roommate as she hands me my bag, silently admiring the ring she claims to have received from an admirer. It was enchantingly beautiful.

While I waited for the driver to get me to the locations, I felt myself slipping into a confused state of anger and sadness. Never a good combination, is it?

And maybe I try to tell myself I've moved on and forgotten all about it, but the truth is that I am so far from being okay. I bury myself in obligations, so many things to stop myself from thinking too much only to fall asleep quickly and sleep without any dreams because I'm too tired to dream. But, even though I try to keep myself from having quiet moments in life not to think about it, it's still something that creeps up on me, even in the middle of my busy days. I stumble upon a meme I know he'd laugh at, or eat something he'd rave about for days, or hear a song I know he'd be posting to Snapchat with an appropriate sunset view. He's still there in the back of my mind, crawling his way through my sanity and forcing me to remember the hurt he caused.

However, the moment I come to the clinic, I find the reason behind Lisa's call. While Grayson is spinning in circles and Cameron is trying to grab him, Ethan is lying on the concrete, curled up like a ball while his mother is talking to him.

Walking toward them a bit faster, I hear Grayson making 'chu chu' noises and Ethan is just rambling incoherently.

„Woah. What the hell?!“ I exclaim, stopping Grayson in his spot. But, he stumbles toward me, grabbing onto my shoulders a little too roughly before steadying himself and chuckling...it sounded more like choking.

„You're so pretty and fluffy like a cloud.“ He chuckles again, his eyelids dropping before he widens his eyes purposefully and puts on a straight face.

„Woah, bro. It got really dark for a moment. Like it was night, but it's day again!“ His fingertips dig into my shoulders and I press my lips together, watching Cam film the whole thing, trying to stop herself from laughing.

„Oookay, buddy. You're definitely out of it.“ I put a hand around his waist, making him drop one of his hands as we embrace in a side hug. Leading him toward the car, I try to ignore his awed stare to the best of my ability. It's unnerving, heavier than his body leaning on me and just as disarming.

„You're gonna sit here and wait for me, okay?“ I help him sit inside, watching him nod and do as I asked, his head tilting so his eyes follow my every move.

Wanting to help with Ethan, I turn on my heel, only to find him rushing toward me with a lopsided smile and his arms open wide, Lisa running after him in exasperation.

A bear hug, bone crushing, soul searching, warm kind of a hug is what hit me next, his weight almost entirely crushing me.

„I missed you so much.“ He mumbles as Lisa pushes him off and to the other side, letting me sit between the guys before helping Ethan in. It's hard to miss Cam's questioning eyebrow raise for Ethan seemed more himself than Gray did and his outburst of affection was suspicious.

„Oh, you're here?“ Grayson suddenly speaks up, his eyes half open and his tongue sticking out. It’s clear he doesn’t remember me helping him inside, nor anything before.

„It wasn't your fault. It's mine. God...I really fucked everything up this time, didn't I?“ Both Lisa and Cam whipped around to look at me, definitely a thousand questions running through their minds as I blushed deeply, sweating profusely.

However, it was like a switch for Grayson. He seemed to have forgotten what he said, taking out his phone to record a snap, starting it with: „What's up motherfuckers?!“ while Ethan tries to calm him down: „Relax, bro.“

Grayson's eyes flicker from Ethan to me, looking back at the camera. „I'm sorry guys. I'm sorry.“ Continuing mumbling about being Gucci or something...It's like his dyslexia has caught up with his mouth too.

„Alright. Get them home and into bed. Easy, right?“ Cam sighed, giving me a look that meant we'll talk later and in detail. It seems as if neither of them knew about what happened between Grayson and I.

Just as the thought passed through my mind, he leaned his head on my shoulder and took my hand in his, examining each knuckle carefully. I want to push him off, ignore his advances. They aren't genuine anyways. Not while he's hopped up on painkillers.

„You're not wearing my ring?“ He whines in my ear, making me furrow my eyebrows and turn my head to the side to face his wrinkled forehead and murky brown eyes filling with tears.

„What ring?“ I groan, already sick of his behavior and the constant need to touch me. Space and lots of it. That's what I need and he doesn't seem to budge an inch.

„He gave a butterfly ring to you as a sorry.“ Ethan whispers, as if he's trying to help me which only confuses me. It must be a part of their loopiness. Shrugging, I tap my shoulder for him to lean on. And he does. Instantly. But so did Ethan.

Both fell asleep rather quickly, allowing us to get them home safely.

Putting an arm around me, Grayson leaned on me almost entirely as I managed to get him inside his bedroom and on the bed. Tucking him in, I barely get a chance to stand before his fingers curl around my wrist and he tugs me back toward him.

„It really hurts, Tinkerbell.“ The pain laced in his voice, the sheer confusion and the cracks...it forced me to sit back down. The emotional pain I've carried around for so long finally caught up with me as I watched him flutter his eyes, his long eyelashes just as entrancing as they used to be.

Sighing, I lean in and gently, almost feather like, peck his swollen nose - right above his gauze. He flinches, seemingly frightened of the pain to come, but then his eyes snap open and his lips curl into a small smile.

„I kissed it better.“ I smile back, unable to withhold that small courtesy. He won't remember anything anyway.

„But that's not where it hurts the most.“ He says quietly, shyly, his right hand lifting to his chest as he taps it lightly, the G on his hand making me wonder if the doctors seriously labeled him to tell which twin is which. But then I realize I'm just trying to distract myself from what's really the problem...does he say his heart hurts?

„Why, Gray?“ Am I going to hell for extracting some half truths from a guy high on painkillers? Probably.

„Cause I loved you. And I los-lost you.“ He stumbles over his words, clearly exhausted and slipping up.

„What about your girlfriend?“ I keep on asking, feeling my heart hammer inside my chest longingly. Even after everything, I still want him. There is a serious flaw in my code.

„Left her the same day.“ His hand tightens around mine ever so slightly as his voice wavers and I feel heat rush to my face.

„You never responded to any of my letters. You don't even wear my ring.“ He said sadly, his eyes flooding with tears once more as I realize there is something more to the story. He wouldn't be able to come up with these things in this state...let alone repeat them if they were a lie.

„Do you still...“ I pause, knowing this is bad and that I probably need professional help...this is like self harming – going to the same person who put a dagger in your heart expecting them to heal you...it's not how the world works. It always makes it worse, giving them a chance to twist the dagger and damage you further.

„I do still love you.“ A lump forms in my throat, my eyes falling to his hand on mine, watching his fingers rubbing up and down on my skin.

Leaning in once more, I press a kiss to his cheek this time around, resting my forehead on his for just a moment with my eyes closed and my heart undeniably open. Open as the stitches I hand-placed ripped open and let him in. God, I hate him for doing that again.

„All better.“ He whispers and I open my eyes, smiling softly at him before moving away and he lets me go as his eyes close shut.

Closing his door behind me, I run into Lisa who seemed to be waiting for me.

„So, what happened?“ She asked, Cameron walking down the hall from Ethan's room with her best 'better talk now' look.

„It paints your son in a bad way and I don't want to ruin the image you have of him. Deep down, he's a good guy who just did a really shitty thing.“ I shrug, trying to walk past them, but Cameron instantly blocks my path.

„Grayson lied about dating someone, while loving Y/N, so he slept with Y/N and then thought he got her out his system and Y/N found him the day after in here when he was going to fuck his girlfriend, when he then told her some bad stuff and then she left. And Grayson broke up with the bimbo and called Y/N all the time, wrote heartfelt letters cause she likes that shit and even bought her a gold butterfly ring in Barcelona and she never responded.“ Ethan's nasal, loopy explanation left us all with mouths agape and shocked, forcing Cameron to take him back again while Lisa looked at me with sympathy.

„He really did fuck up.“ Lisa said, making my eyes widen, nearly falling out of my head. I've never heard her cuss before and I'm not sure if I should laugh considering her exasperation with her boy's behavior, or cower in fright because if looks could kill, Grayson would be in big trouble.

„I just...don't understand. Both of them are loopy, but their story is the same. They both claim he tried to earn my forgiveness and make everything right...something doesn't add up.“ I frown, placing my hands on my hips as I cast my eyes to the floor in thought.

And then I remember.

„Shit!“ I exclaim, turning to Cameron who just returned.

„I'll be back soon, I think my roommate did this. She always had a thing for Grayson and she's been wearing this golden butterfly wing that matches what both of them said.“

Running out, I go straight home. I did borrow Grayson's Porsche...serves him right. But, an hour of fighting and a 'if you don't give the ring back, you will lose a finger too' threat, I had all the letters on my bed and the ring on top. Each letter was comprised of my favorite movie quotes and a photo of us, his heartfelt apology and explanation why he chose just that photo with it. I didn't have time to comb through them all, wanting to be there when he wakes up.

I sat on his bed, waiting for him to wake up, just listening to him breathe as I read his letters slowly, carefully and with tears clouding my vision. He really did love me. He really was sorry.

But does he still feel the same?

„Pretty angel dream. I like it.“ Grayson's mumbling made me smile, making me wipe away the tears and face him.

„Hey, stranger. How are you?“ Laying down beside him, I rest my left hand, palm open on his chest and my head on his shoulder.

„Better with you here.“ His hand clasps mine, stopping short once he feels something unfamiliar. I see him looking down, his eyes softening as his face relaxed.

„You're wearing my ring.“ The endearing tone isn't lost on me, warming my heart as I snuggle into his neck and press a feather light kiss on his warm skin.

„I'm never taking it off.“

„Does this mean you forgive me?“ He questions, firmly clasping my hand now as if he's afraid of the answer he might receive.

„Only if you say you love me instead of writing it.“ I tease, feeling him tense up.

„I do. I do love you, but I might not remember this tomorrow and I want to tell you that sober.“ He rushed his words, undeniably making my anger dissolve entirely and my heart fall right back into his hands.

„But you just said it, and you said it earlier as well, so...just keep repeating it.“ I say quietly, ignoring my heartbeat going haywire at the prospect of us being more than just friends.

„I will. After all, you're both the girl I need and the girl I want.“

Tags: @xalayx @fallinginlove-16 @accalialionheart @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch @dolandolll  @dolanstwintuesday

[slasherscream]

PLEASE, JD and Billy whose SO gained quite a bit of weight from school stress + a few nasty people bullying her. She loves JD/Billy but thinks that he finds her repulsive so she wears baggy clothes and stops being as affectionate with him. Then one night he climbs into her room and she flinches when he puts his hands on her waist. He asks what's going on and she cries telling him everything. By the end, he goes: "You think I don't find you hot? Let me prove you wrong." Smuttiness and fluff ensu

A/N: finally  .... finally a reason to live (a mister. jd request). big smooch thrown your way anon. 

     jason dean / jd

                                                     ——————– 

There's something about senior year that's getting to you. Maybe it's the fact that you know after this it could all get worse and you're already having a hard enough time as is.

You were never a bad student before, actually you were pretty good, so it might seem small to someone else but it's hard to cope with the fact that you're suddenly having to put 100% effort into everything you do only to receive minimal success. 

Every paper or test you get back marked with red. Every tutoring session you attend. Every late night cram session. Every group project where you always seem to be the one holding the group back. It's all starting to build up. You're about to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. 

You're eating more as a result and when you notice the extra weight around your hips and stomach it only freaks you out even worse. One more problem to deal with! Great! Now you're not only stupid but you're also getting fat. You can hardly look at yourself in the mirror without getting angry and sad. What's wrong with you? Why can't you get it together? 

Your boyfriend, JD, is completely unaware of any of this. You could tell him. Probably should tell him       but every time you open your mouth to start the words won't come out.

You feel stupid in more ways than one. Is this really something to complain about? To be losing sleep over? Not doing well in highschool? Much as you'd like to think he loves you (and you're getting less sure every day) he can be ....harsh. At times. Not with you, really. But you've seen it firsthand. Heard him rant and rave about other things and people without reservation or empathy.

You feel like a baby but you know you can't handle any tough love, or sarcasm, or disapproving looks from him at the moment. It'll send you hurtling right over the edge of oblivion. You don't know a damn thing about anything else but at least you still know your own limits. 

You wish you were more invisible at school because the popular girls notice quickly your weight gain. Snickers in the hallway. Insults whispered just loudly enough for you to hear. You start covering yourself up more. Barely showing any skin at all. You wish you could disappear under these baggy clothes all in dull colors. You want to blend into the halls. Sink into the floor. Stop existing for just a moment so you can rest. 

This .... this JD begins to notice. He's observant, scarily so. But he doesn't have time to take note of your overall personality and style changes. He's overwhelmed by his own paranoid thoughts. 

You don't touch him anymore. Don't like even being near him it feels. He goes to put an arm around you and you cringe away. Tries to hug you and suddenly you run off to class. He’s only just been able to sneak you a handful of kisses on the cheek. You haven't been on a date in weeks and it's all beginning to freak him out.

All the patience and trust you two have built up together isn't enough to keep his mind from going to dark places. You're going to leave him. You're going to leave him and he can't just let you but he doesn't know what the fuck he's supposed to do to keep you. Doesn't know what he did wrong. Tries to think back        to fights, or comments. Analyzes every conversation and interaction. Just last month you'd been fine. Golden. Perfect. You're perfect together in every way. 

That night he has to see you. Has to see you, and hold you, and convince you that you can't leave. That you two are the best thing the world ever managed to make through reckless chance and coincidence. 

You're studying diligently the way you pass every evening now. You don't hear the rocks being tossed softly at your window. You do hear the window open and see him crawl through scowling. He's across the room and joined you on the bed before you can so much as say hello. 

Hands on the side of your head that pull you into a fierce kiss. You squirm against him, nervous and thinking about all your problems even as you want him to just kiss them away. His hands slide down to your waist and you psychically leap off the bed with a yelp. 

Silence falls on the room and there's a combination of hurt and anger starting to settle on JD's face. Neither of you speak for a long moment. When he does it's after he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath (you remember teaching him to do that whenever he thought about doing something rash). 

"What's going on?" you open your mouth to answer but the words are still stuck in your throat, "Y/N ..... I'm really trying here but you've been ignoring me for weeks. You don't talk to me. You don't touch me. You don't          Fuck! You don't wanna breathe the same air as me it seems, cause' we never stay in the same room for long before you're running off. Running from me." 

He gets off the bed now and walks towards you until your back is to the wall and he's caging you in. You can't run from him now. 

"I- ..... JD I just-" He doesn't mean to interrupt you when he puts a hand on your cheek but the softness in the touch is enough to break you. You sob a little even as you lean into the warmth of his palm. It's the first time he's been given the chance to really touch you since you started hating yourself. You missed him. 

One sob out of you and you're enveloped in his arms. He tucks you against his chest protectively, chin already resting on the top of your head. He doesn't know what's going on but that's always his first instinct. Protecting you. Keeping you. 

Even now you're thinking about how you fit differently against him then you did last month. The month before that. You try to pull away and he tugs you back sharply. "No darling .... whatever this is we're dealing with it right now. You hear me?" 

You hear him. Eventually. You try a few more times to get away or get out of talking but he doesn't take your unhappiness lightly. He doesn't stop holding you either. It's easier than you think to tell him ... tell him everything, when you're tucked away in his arms, cheek pressed against his chest, hearing his heartbeat pounding steadily in your ears. You focus on that. The rhythm and familiarity of that sound instead of on what you're saying. You just open your mouth and let words fall out. 

When you're finally done talking and shift back just enough to see his face you don't find any of the things you'd thought you'd see there. Just softness. He presses your foreheads together, "You ... are the most beautiful thing alive on this shitty planet." 

You squirm against him, clearly wanting to deny it but he shakes his head and puts a finger to your lips, "No, darling. You already did your talking. Now it's my turn. It's rude to interrupt you know." He's smirking now and you have to laugh. The sound of your laughter makes his eyes light up. 

"I love everything about you. I'll love everything about you until we're both dead in the ground. You're perfect." He sounds damn near worshipful saying it. He completes the imagery by sliding out from underneath you (it had been a real struggle wrestling you onto his lap in the first place) and onto the floor in front of you.

On his knees he tucks his fingers into the band of your sweatpants and pauses, waiting for permission. But you still look self-conscious and unsure. He hates seeing that look on your face and moves closer, kisses the skin just above the waistband gently and then nips at you. His dark eyes are burning and serious when they lock onto yours, "Let me show you. Let me prove you wrong." 

There's a bit of begging to the tone and the realization that he needs this just as much is what makes you nod. With that all bets are off.

You're stripped bare in moments and he still has all his clothes on, even his fucking trench-coat that always smells a little of smoke. That fact would make you squirm at the best of times. He seems to read your thoughts and puts a hand on your stomach that is settling. Comforting. He doesn't stray away from the extra softness to your skin now either. Fingers squeezing into you like he's enjoying it. He enjoys you. He's enjoying having you so close.

His other hand finds your thigh and he uses it to yank you towards the edge of the bed. His warm breath ghosts over you, "This isn't about me." 

He seems so barely controlled and eager you expect him to get straight to it. Instead he starts to kiss upwards, passing by the place you want to feel him most completely. Open-mouthed kisses going all the way up your stomach. He nuzzles the space between your breasts before he settles his mouth onto one suddenly and sucks.

You jerking against him makes him groan and it turns out he wasn't planning to tease you after-all. His fingers are between your legs stroking you in just the way he knows you like. 

Fingers slip against your wet and heat in a way that makes you both groan. He rubs tight circles into your clit and is watching your every reaction to his touch. He'd missed watching you like this.He like the way you feel against him, softer than before. He smiles into your breast. 

That's how you cum. Him on top of you, caging you, holding you and you whining at the feeling of his fingers curling inside you. 

You're breathless when he kisses you, still coming down from your first high of the night. You look carefree and dazed, exact opposite of the tears you'd shed earlier. He smiles and kisses his way back down your body, not yet done showing you how beautiful he finds you. 

                                                     ——————–

[distrustedace]

“You Complete Fool!”

AN: this is a bonus , a small epilogue to the Janus fanfiction that I am working on.

While I was looking through my recent case studies, my phone rang. I put down the documents and answered. Virgil called me...Why?

“Virgil? Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked

“Jan-” Virgil said, but was cut off.

I have a horrible feeling about this. I can hear deep breaths and whimpering from Virigl and I realized that it was 12 am and Virgil is out-.

Oh god.

“Virgil stay where you are, I’ll come and get you.” I said as I grabbed my coat and went to my car.

Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

I arrived at the park near me, I turned on the phone tracker and tracked Virgil to the park.

When i got out of the car, I immediately seem virgil sitting on the ground, holding his legs to his chest. He seems distressed, and was looking out to see if anyone else is coming by.

I strode towards him until I was standing above him. Virgil noticed my shadow and looked up.

His eyes shone with relief upon seeing me but he went back to hiding his face under his arms.

I kneeled down and observed Virgil. My heart broke as I was looking at virgil in this state.

He was sobbing quietly and shaking frequently. I noticed that his clothes were crumpled and his scalp was bleeding. So he has a mild head concussion. I quickly realized that he was probably attacked. Which wasn’t good since he was intoxicated too. His breath smelled like strong vodka.

I took off my grey overcoat and draped it over Virgil. Virgil calmed down a bit as I carefully pulled him out and escorted him to my car.

This isn’t good. Why the hell was he out at 12 am drunk in a park?

I arrived at my apartment complex and led virgil to my couch. He sat down wordlessly.He’s seemed to calm down a lot. Probably knowing that he is safe with me. Which is good.

“Virgil, what happened to you?” I carefully asked

He tried talking but his speech came out  as incoherent babbling and stutters. I stopped him from talking and decided to try a different tactic.

“Virgil, what happened to you?”I signed. Fourtuantely , I learned sign langage at my old Elementary school and decided to keep learning it.

Virgil, then signed at  a really fast pace, trying desperately to communicate with me but without freaking out.

“I went out drinking because something happened with the gang and I almost got attacked and harassed by three men. Thank god I was able to escape and hide behind a tree. PLEASE DON’T TELL LOGAN!!” he signed

I sighed a little. Although I am glad that Virigil is safe,I am highly disappointed that the gang let virgil go out late. But i was also struggling since I knew that I had to tell atleast one of his friends. But once I saw Virgil’s anxious state,I knew that telling them now would only make Virgil’s mental state spiral more. After I get Virgil completely calmed down, I’ll tell anyone but Logan.

The rest of the night consisted of me staying up and giving Virgil chamomile tea while the song “Take on me,” played from the alexa sitting on the living room table. I didn’t study for my job. How could i? Virgil just got assaulted ! I can’t in my right mind, leave him alone. Virgil finally fell asleep on the couch but I continued to stay up. To formulate a contingency plan to make sure that this  never happens to virgil again.

And whoever made Virgil upset enough to leave and let him go, will have a stern conversation with me.

This cannot be tolerated.

At 9:00am my phone rang again. Assuming that it was one of Virgil’s friends, I picked it up.

“Janus, something happened. We got in a argument with Virgil and he stormed out of the apartment last night. Is ther any chance that you’ve seen Virgil last night?” Logan asked me

“Yeah, Virgil arrived at my apartment, clearly distraught. We talked for the night and he decided to crash at my place as to save face.” I said.

A small pause happened in the conversation. “Alright, well, tell Virgil that he can hang out at your place until 2:30, we’re all worried about him.” Logan said

I can clearly tell Logan was worried since he cleared his throat a lot. “Sounds good.” I said.

After I hung up, I heard “I definitely can’t come back at that time.”

I turned around and saw Virgil sitting at the kitchen table. Still a little frazzled from last night, he looked down at the table.

“You know that you have to go back sometime.” I said

“ I know, I just don’t think I can go back to the way things are.” Virgil replied

I sat down across from him.

“What do you mean?” I asked

Virgil sighed before saying, “Me and everyone, well mostly Logan, were arguing about something,” He paused , taking a deep breath before saying, “I decided to pursue a career in speech therapy for children in Elementary to middle school.” He explained

“Wow Virgil, thats nice! Speech therapy jobs are in demand and it is truly a fulfilling job.” I added

“Yeah…. but, I also decided to earn the degree for that in England.” He meekly said

I paused. Virgil, the person who is the most anxious person out of the group. Decided to go to a different country, alone , to earn his degree in a college that is completely different than our colleges… Well,Virgil has shown mass improvement in character,managing his debilitating anxiety disorder and independence. But I am still worried about the long run for him.

“Virgil, that is amazing.” I replied.

“....Really? I thought you would be against this.” Virgil said

“Virgil, I don’t care what you learn and where you learn it. Just as long as it is obtained through legal and honest means, I will support you 100%.” I explained

Virgil smiled brightly. I guess hearing that from me made him feel more happier.

“Yeah, but everyone but Patton tried to persuade me to drop the notion.”He said

“Well, honestly,I’m not surprised. They don’t seem to realize that you are mastly different then before you graduated high school.” I said.

“Yeah! I don’t understand! They seem to accept you being a honest person! Why can’t they just accept that I am not that anxious 16 year old anymore!” Virgil exclaimed

I waited for him to calm down before saying, “Well, Virgil, its just that they’ve all seen how anxious and volatile you can be. You need to remember that before, you had constant panic attacks up until junior year. So of course they would instinctively seize up if you started spiriling down.”

“Yeah, I know that. I just wished that they trusted me in this.They didn’t even give me a chance to talk. Especially Logan.” Virgil sighed “Logan, seemed even more anxious then me for once. He was spewing out random statistics on people who get lost in countries and other stuff.” Virgil explained

Oh, so Logan’s emotions emerged during that argument. I’m not surprised but worried at the fact that he was more irrational than before.

“Virgil. I wish you noticed that, out of all of the group, Logan obviously cares and adores you despite not showing it.” I explained

Virgil looked down.

“Yeah, i know. But I just hope that one day...He wouldn’t need to take care of me. That he doesn’t need me.” Virgil said

“ Honestly speaking, Logan  wants to take care of you. And he needs you.” I reinforced

“I know, I really do, but I just don’t feel like he does. I know he means well. I really do. But I constantly worry about him realizing that I am not up to his standards enough for him to truly want to stay.” Virgil shakily stated

“Virgil.” I said as I laid my hand on his shoulder

“You… Are full of shit,” Virgil’s eyes widened, “Logan will kill me for saying this but, He constantly talks and raves about your progress as developing into a adult. He constantly askes me on what he can do to help you in any way. Seriously, sometimes he would visit me for the sole purpose of learning more about… well you!” I exclaimed.

Virgil pauses. Thinking about everything he’s been told. He fidgets with his hands before saying, “.... Are you sure?”

“Ok virgil, for the last and final time, Logan. Loves. You.” I said

Virgil’s head snapped up. His expression showed that he was shocked.

But he quickly smiled before chuckling. Realizing that I was right, he responded.

“I guess so, huh?”

5:00 pm, my phone rang again. Inwardly cringing I picked up the phone, knowing that Logan is going to interrogate me on where Virgil is. I made virgil promise to go back at 6:00 but of course, Logan would realize that he didn’t come back at 2.

“Loga-”

“Janus, where the heck is Virgil?” Logan asked

“Virgil is just caught up with someth-”

“ Janus, cut the bullshit ok? I knew you were lying the first time I called. Since you stopped lying, you suck at lying now. Where. Is. Virgil.” Logan pressed

Jeez, Logan mad. Who knew that bookworm can scare even me.I sighed

“Virgil’s not ready okay? I promise he’s coming back at-”

“Save it, I’m going to your place.I’ll bring Virgil back myself.” Logan curtly replied before ending the call.

Ahhhhhh

Shit.

Ten minutes later, he arrived. Knocking on my door curtly. I got up and opened the door.

“Logan just  stay-”

He forced his way in my apartment. Walking down to my livingroom.

“Where is Virgil.” He asked. Clearly showing that his patience is wearing thin.

“He’s in the spare bedroom.” I say. Finally caving in. Damn, Logan’s terrifying when angry

Logan went to the door of the bedroom where Virgil is sleeping in. Despite being angry, he carefully knocked the door, announcing to Virgil that he is going in to talk to him. Lets hope that everything will fall into place.

Logan’s Pov:

I cautiously stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. I was thinking of all the ways I can apologise to Virgil. I admit, I am really inadequate with sentiment. Especially apologies. How do I properly apologize to someone as sensitive as Virgil? Its just that, these emotions that rose up in me, is so foreign and strong. I can’t describe it  precisely. Its like… being annoyed and frustrated at a unruly teenager but magnified exponentially. And its mostly directed at me. I am really… frustrated. At my self. At my inadequacy in communicating to Virgil about something he wanted to do. I am Logan. The person who is supposed to be the smartest in the room. The person who is supposed to educate and support my friends. The person who is supposed...be better than this. But, I honestly don’t think I have the right to hold those titles. Its just- Virgil. The prospect of Virgil leaving somehow invoked a feeling in my that I was unable to control. And that , inturn scared him off. I really wanted to bring him back last night but I was so clouded with my feelings, that I couldnt. And now.. This happened.

Its not the fact that Virgil wants to be independent that I am afraid of.

Its the fact that he would not need me anymore to support him. And that, greatly frightens me. For an unknown reason.

I saw Virgil asleep, his body turned to the other side. Exposing his back to me. I carefully thought out my thoughts and said, “Virgil, its me, Logan. I just came here to talk to you for a bit before bringing you home.Are you asleep?”

Virgil shifted as an indication that he is awake but still refused to look at me. I understood why.

“Virgil, I am deeply apologetic for what I have done. I put you down and tried to make you more paranoid at the prospect of leaving. I promised to help you with your anxiety but I just made you more anxious. I- I just. I just..” I floundered. Jeez, get yourself together. You can do this.

“Its just that, I am deeply scared that you are going to suffer in a different country without me and I just- I just can’t let that happened. I- Virgil I-” I paused again. I felt that in order to fix this, I need to be completely honest to Virgil. But why the hell am I deeply scared about it now?

“Virgil, I….I am...afraid. That you would think that I would be in….adequate in supporting you. I am-- worried that when you go off to a completely different country, that you would..Think of me as no use to you.. I know that , it is  a completely absurd notion but-” “Pfttt!”

I stopped as I realized that Virgil was laughing.

“Virgil, why are you laughing? Did I say anything funny?” I asked

“Who knew. That the great Logan can be as anxious as I can be.” Virgil replied.

He sat up and turned to look at me. He had dark circles under his eyes. His hair is clearly dishevled and he was….smiling at me?

His smile...why didn’t  I realize that it looks… warm?

I quickly snapped out of it once I saw the bandage on virgil’s forehead and a bruise on his cheek.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and asked, “ Virgil! What happened to you? You have a small cut on your scalp and a purple bruise on you cheek? Did someone assault you?? Are you ok? Count to ten for me-”

“ I’m fine sherlock. I am completely unharmed.” Virgil replied with a relaxed smile.

“I- i don’t understand how? You got assaulted? Aren’t you scared?” I asked

“No” he replied

I paused. Realizing finally, that Virgil has grown. He’s not that anxious , stuttering teenager that i, admittingly, adored. He’s an adult. And now... I should treat him as such.

“Logan,”Virgil said, holding my hand gently, “I’m fine. I truly am. Are you ok? You look stressed.” He asked

“You complete fool!” I shouted, “ I was worried sick! Why didn’t you at least call back?! I called you a total of 20 times during the day and you basically cut contact from me. And to make it exponentially worse, everyone was worried too! Patton was stress baking again! Roman was also trying to reach you and Thomas was thinking of ways to apologize! The house was in complete chaos!” I ranted

“I am so sorry for storming out back there. I just felt -” “Anxious, I know.” I sighed, “Please, refrain from doing that again.” I shakenly requested

“I promise I wouldn’t resort to that,” Virgil stated, “But… who knew that you have the capacity to worry as much as I can.” He told me

“Logan,I also worry about how much you need me or not. I was always worrying about when you would stop teaching me new things,putting up with me and just being near me in general.” Virgil admitted.

I was honestly, confused. “Virgil, I thought we established this a long time ago. Don’t you see me as someone who you can trust? I would never do that.” I reassured him

“ I know,I know. But I was  just...feeling like it y’know” Virgil said “Virgil i-i-” I stuttered. This is it. I never knew that I had to say this now. I have a freaking 12 point plan! But..

“ Vrigil I love you.” I admitted

“ I know.” Virgil replied instantly. “Janus told me.”

“That damn snake.” I muttered

“Heheh.” Virgil chucked. “ Don’t sweat it nerdy Wolverine. I love you too.” Virgil confessed

I looked at him. I was..I’m...ecstatic. I-is this, love?

“Earth to Logan, you good?” Virgil asked

I lunged and tackled him in a hug. I was so glad that Virgil has reciprocated my feelings. Despite my constant lack of affection,I still felt...really..deeply for Virgil.

“Logan,you’re kinda crushing me a bit.” Virgil warned

I broke the hug and smiled brightly. “Virgil I-”

He leaned in and kisses me.

So this is what kissing feels like. I- can’t describe it. I-

He snakes his arm around my back to comb his hands through my hair and he used his other arm to cling to my back. I- is- he- what?

I, against my better judgement wrapped my arm around Virgil’s small waist and brought my hand to the nape of his neck. Deepening this… kiss.

I never want to let go ever again.

[celestica-1988]

Time Bomb

The dirt!Nikki Sixx x Female Reader

Warning: drug abuse.

You struggled to remember the first time you meet Nikki Sixx.

Maybe it was at a rave in an occupied house or maybe at a punk concert in some locals, but that didn’t matter, you two clicked immediately.

After the first sight you exchange you were already kissing passionately, ignoring completely the music and the other people. And that night in bed you really try for the first time what wild sex was, you weren’t sure you could walk the next morning. But it wasn’t just sex with him, he was also the person that after ravished your body took his time to gently caress it and worshipped it, that man loved eat you out. You weren’t sure why, but you have one theory: the first time he marked you as his girl, the second showed how much he cared about you and he was in need of affection.

His mother was a bitch, his father left when Nikki was two, it was no surprise that guy was a mess, but still you loved him.

After all you were a mess too.

Your father killed your mother in front of you when you were eight and then try to assault you, luckily some neighbors called the police and that bitch was arrested. You never forgave him, he wrote countless time from jail but you tore all the letters apart.

After the murder you were placed in a foster home, since you were a cute kid they hoped that some family will adopt you soon, but what happened turned you in a little scared animal and you ran away every time a potential family showed up. You also had nightmares, you screamed all night so loud that, despite the lack of place you were put in a room alone.

You were twelve the first time you try alcohol, it was love at first sight.

Of course the people at foster home tried their best to hide it from you, but you always ended up finding it.

Your grades were a mess so at fourteen you were kicked out from school and forced to find a job. You tried to do a lot of jobs but you were always fired because of your bad temper.

At sixteen you left the foster home, no one ever came to claim you back.

After it there was just Nikki and the endless nights of having fun with the Mötley Crüe, you lied on your age so they did not know they were buying alcohol at a sixteen years girl instead of a twenty-one and Nikki did not know he was fucking an underage girl always drunk.

While touring with the band you discovered weed, you and Tommy smoked a lot, Tommy was also in cocaine like the other guys, except Mick, and Nikki was in heroin.

You got along with everyone except for Mick. You don’t hate each other, but something in the way he looked at you made you understand  he knew that you were saying a lot of bullshit to everyone.

You were scared to confront him, so you just avoid each other, no one ever asked you why because they knew Mick was a bit of antisocial person.

You were drinking alone on the bus when Mick sat next to you.

“Y/N, you must tell Nikki the truth.” “What truth, dude?” “Do you think I’m dumb?

You are twenty one like me. How old are you really?”

“Does it even matter? I have booze and sex anyway.” “Yes, it matters.

The guy are on a contract with the Elektra record, every scandal could really kill us and our career.” “Oh, that’s why you are worried… Little selfish twenty one years alien.” “Stop it, you are not funny.” “I’m fucking sixteen and don’t even ask me if I have a family.

I lived in a foster home since I was eight and when I run away no one come to look for me.

Happy now?

Now go to hell and let me drink!”

“Tell Nikki the truth, before the things would go out of control.

You snorted, everything was perfectly fine.

You got high, you had sex, you had fun and the circle repeated every fucking day, how could it go out of control?

You had it checked

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  It was a normal night when the things risked to go out of control.

You and Nikki were laying in a bed of an hotel, one of the countess you saw on tour with the band, after sex. You got used to the fact that then Nikki shot heroin in his veins and you looked all the rituals before and then to his happy face.

“Nikki?”

You shook him gently with a new brilliant idea in mind.

“What’s up, angel?” “Shoot me heroin, please.” He blinked two times, like he needed time to process the idea, than nodded.

He used one of his ties as a restraint, he fulfill the syringe and he was ready, you were so excited that you could barely stay still. Finally you will understand the happiness that Nikki found in that drug.

He was about to shoot it, but suddenly in his eyes you saw consciousness and than pure horror, he threw away the syringe. You were speechless, he removed the tie and threw it away too.

“Why?” “Y/N, don’t you understand?” “No, Nikki! I wanna be happy too!” He took your hands and squeezed them.

“You will never be happy with heroin, believe me.

What the hell was I thinking when I said yes to you?”

“I don’t understand, Nikki!” You screamed frustrated.

“You are always so happy after you shoot heroin, than I wanna try too, what’s wrong in it?” “I’m not happy when I shoot! It’s hell, pure hell!

You wanted more and more heroin, you look for money and you can do everything to find them, till one day there will be a last shoot and someone will find you dead somewhere with a syringe in your arm. And you will be another name on the papers, another worthless junkie. Is that what you want? Die?”

“But, you?”

“I choose this life cause I’m an idiot that hope to find the love of a mother in the drugs, but I choose it. I don’t wanna choose it also for you. I don’t wanna watch you destroy your life and thinking it’s my fault.

You don’t deserve it!”

You saw tears in Nikki eyes.

He put up some jeans and a t-shirt.

“I’m an idiot.”

He walked towards the door.

“Don’t go! Don’t leave me! You screamed at the tops of your lungs.

“I need time alone, the situation is no more under control.”

“If you go I’ll shoot myself some heroin!”

“Good luck.”

He showed you the syringe he threw away.

“This was the last one.”

He exit the door and you started to cry, your body automatically shifted to Nikki’s side to feel his warmth.

You ruined everything, he will never come back.

You were so stupid, you didn’t care anymore about heroin, you just wanted him back.

You wanted to hug him kiss him till you both remained breathless, but it would never happened.

You heard the door opened.

“Nikki?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m not him.” Standing next your bed there was Mick, you sobbed louder.

He sat next to you, he caressed slowly your hair and patted on your back.

“Ssh, Y/N. Everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay.” “He’s gone.”

You mumbled desperately.

“You were right, Mick. I should have told him everything. The situation went out of control and I’m the one to blame.”

“Wanna tell me what happened?” “Nikki shot himself heroin and I asked him if he could shoot it also in me. He was about to do it, but then he threw away the syringe and told me that drugs are hell and he can’t do this do it cause I didn’t deserved it.

He went away.

I fucked up Mick, Nikki wouldn’t want to see me again, he will never come back.”

“No, Y/N. If he stopped from shooting you it means that he cares about you and love you.

He will come back, we can’t leave without him.”

You chuckled between the tears.

“I miss him, Mick.

I fucking miss him.”

During all this time Mick was cradling you and you slowly felt better.

“Thank you. Wanna be my father?”

He chuckled.

“I’m too strange to be your father.” “Mine killed my mum in front of my eyes, you can’t be worse of him.”

He placed on the bed, he covered you.

“I’m sorry, little one.

Now sleep, you need it. Everything between you and Nikki will be fixed.”

He threw you a dirty Nikki tee, smelling the scent of him relaxed you enough to close your eyes.

“Thank you, Mick.” “You are welcome.” You felt into a deep sleep

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The next morning Nikki was plopped next to you, an elbow lifted.

You got rid of the blankets and hugged him tighter that you could.

“Don’t do ever again! Don’t leave me again, please.

Please.” You started crying again, he dried the tears with kiss till you were yourself again.

“Y/N, we need to talk and won’t be nice. I’m sorry.” “I’m the one that it’s sorry because I did a really stupid thing yesterday. Please, forgive me.” He smiled sadly.

“You are already forgiven, it’s my entire fault. I kept shooting next to you and it was normal that you wanted to try. And that’s lead to what I need to tell you.” He breathed deep.

“Tomorrow we’ll be back in Los Angeles and I’ll tell you what we’ll do.

I’ll go to rehab and you will go as well, you drink way too much, angel.” You nodded.

“We’ll see after rehab.” He shook his head.

“Y/N, you are not twenty one, not even eighteen. What’s your real age?” “Does it matter?” “If the papers or the Elektra Records find out, yes, it matters.

They will make your life a living hell and if there’s something bad in your past they literally tell it to everyone.” You thought to your mother dying faces and at the madness in your father eyes.

“I’m sixteen. I lived in a foster home in LA. My father killed my mother when I was eight.” “I’m sorry, love.”

You two hugged with desperation.

“I would like to stay with you, but I can’t right now. I’ll pay the rehab and in two years will be together again. On the road, living adventures.” There was something in Nikki’s voice that worried you.

“Swear to me you would come back.” He stayed silent.

“Nik, I won’t go anywhere if you don’t swear to me you will be back.” He was still silent.

“I don’t care if you think that you are not enough for me.

I don’t care if you think you are dangerous for me.

The only thing I care is that you will come back, so…”

You dried a tear.

“So come back to me.” “Yes I will, even if it’s better I won’t. I destroy everything I touch.” You hugged him so tight that you can feel his heart beats next to you ear.

“I love you, I really love you. Don’t say such things.”

He hugged you back.

“I love you, baby.” You started collected your stuff and put it in the suitcase.

It was incredible how short were the last two days, all you did was stay together with him holding hands, chatting, playing the dorks one and had sex during the last night.

And so the day you dread arrived, it was time to say goodbye to Nikki.

You watched him for a while and then kissed him with passion.

When you were forced to separate, he held you in his arms.

“I’ll be back. At your 18th birthday I’ll bring you with me.”

“I’ll wait, but you come back.”

“I will.”

Mick coughed lightly.

“Time to go.”

He kissed you forehead, you smiled.

Inside yourself you were dying, rotting slowly without the best part of yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The rehab was difficult.

The last time you were completely sober you were twelve. You talked a lot, suffered a lot, cried a lot and hugged strangers.

All you did was for him, for Nikki.

You wanted to be your best self for him so you two could be back together and had the wild life you both love.

Six month after you were out of the clinic, confused and scared till you saw Mick, waiting for you next to a car.

“Thank you.”

You whispered.

“Hey, Y/N. Who’s that man?”

Asked the girl you grew to hate most, Mick seemed to understand it.

“I’m her father. Bye, bitch.

Y/N, time to go.” You jumped in the car and Micks started it.

“Where are we going?” “Nikki rented a house for you in a quiet place.”

“I will never able to repay all that he did for me.” You said sadly.

“Just love him and help him stay away from drugs. It will be enough.” Mick’s voice was quiet.

“Why are you taking care of me?”

“I can’t let a kid like you alone in this world, you’re gonna get lost.”

You finally arrived to the house, furniture was already there so you hugged Mick.

“Bye, guitarist.” You were smiling sincerely, he smiled too.

You had a friend in this crazy world.

You put your clothes in the wardrobe and the rest at its place, then you opened the fridge, someone stuffed it with things. You heated up a pizza and ate it.

The day after you walked around for the neighbor and look for some jobs, you asked at two shops but they politely declined. You asked at a bar and they agreed to test you for a period.

You would start at six and end at two in the afternoon, it was good for you.

So the next day you started and found out you weren’t that bad as a waitress.

Your routine was set till the day Nikki will come back to you.

You were a bit impatient, but life was teaching you to wait.

December 23, 1987.

You were watching tv while drawing something when the news said that Nikki Sixx, bassist of the band Mötley Crüe was declared dead in an ambulance by heroin overdose.

That evening turned into a nightmare, you broke all the things you could and then started to cry, collapsing on the floor between the debris.

It couldn’t be possible.

He promised you he would come back, he couldn’t go where you couldn’t reach him.

It was a sick joke, but all the news said the same thing.

Nikki was dead.

Gone.

And you cried and cried, while your heart shattered in a thousand of pieces, lost in the rib cage.

An hour later you heard the gentle steps of someone, someone that cradled you like you were a little kid, you would recognize that touch in a millions.

“Mick, he’s dead. I can’t reach him, kill me.” You said with tears flowing on your check.

“He’s not dead, Y/N, there’s no need to die.”

“But the TV…” “He was declared dead, but a paramedic revived him with two shots of adrenaline. He’s alive and safe at the hospital.”

“Please, bring me to him. I need to see him. I need to see he’s real.”

“Ok, baby.

But promises you won’t draw any attention to you.”

“I’ll promise.”

“Good girl. Now let’s go.” “Mick…”

“Yes?”

“I love you, I think at you as the father I deserve.”

You never saw the guitarist smiled so bright, he caressed your hair gently.

“Let’s go, kid.”

He took you to the cars and started it, luckily there was not too much traffic towards the hospital. Curled up on the passenger seat you felt fragile and vulnerable at your best, you didn’t know if the person you loved was alive or dead. You felt like a piece of you as missing.

You finally arrived and Mick pushed softly at the entrance, you put a foot in front of another and finally entered  the buildings. You took an elevator and then walked in empty corridors till the guitarist stopped at a door.

“Go, baby. He’s there.” You grab the door knob and went into the room, Nikki was lying on a bed, the light of the moon caressed his body.

You ran to him who widened his eyes.

“You are alive.”

You exhaled.

You kissed his hands, his forehead and cheeks.

He looked sad and ashamed.

“I didn’t want you to see me this way. I’m a mess.”

“All that matters to me is that you are alive.” You caressed his itchy chin.

“I know you hate show yourself vulnerable, but let me allow this.” He hugged you tightly.

“I’m sorry. It was never my intention to scare you like this.

I’ll be better than this, I’ll be someone worth of you.

The day of your 18th birthday I’ll come to pick you up, angel.”

“I’ll wait, love.”

You kissed and then he kissed your forehead.

“Time to go.” “I love you.” “I love you, too.” You went out of the room and cried.

He was alive.

He was fucking alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  21st January 1988

It was the day you turned eighteen, you packed up all your things yesterday evening.

Now you were waiting for Nikki and checking obsessively your outfit: a leather skirt, a Mötley Crüe t-shirt, fishnets, boots and a leather jacket.

Your make up was a bit dark, you put a lot of black pencil and a lipstick darker than usual.

You lighted up a cigarette while you were waiting for him walking around the house, you felt like a caged animal.

And finally the door knock you were waiting arrived, you opened the door and hugged Nikki with the cig still in your hands.

You looked at him, he seemed healthier and more beautiful than usual.

“You are awesome, Nikki.

You my awesome black angel.” You kissed him again.

“And you are my little fairy.

Time to pack things, love.

“Already done, mister Sixx.” You hugged him again.

“Wow, someone is impatient.” “It was two years, Nikki, and you died at some point. Off course I wanna be with you as soon as I can.”

“I know, I’m sorry, love.”

You two released from the hug and started moved your boxes from the house to Nikki’s car. It took a while, but now your life was really about to start.

You jumped in the car and Nikki started it.

“I can’t wait to stay with you.” Nikki laughed and smiled in a mysterious way, something was gonna happen, you thought.

Once arrived at Nikki’s villa you were almost knocked out by a hyperactive tall man known as Tommy Lee.

“I’m so happy you are happy you are back, I missed you, dwarf.” “I missed you too, giant!”

You hugged him and then someone pushed him away.

“Hey, bitch. It’s my turn.” Vince hugged you.

“Nikki is lucky to have you, but if he misbehave I’m here for you, darling.” “Try it and I kick you outta the band in a secondo, singer.” “Geez, someone is jealous.”

The last one  was Mick.

“Thank you for everything you did for me.” “Am I your dad, right?”

“Right.” You said with tears stinging your eyes.

“Come on, people! Let’s go inside.” Inside everything was ready for a party an you all started dancing and have fun.

At some point Nikki hugged you from behind and kissed under the ear.

“When this tree are gonna I’m gonna give a proper welcome back, honey.”

There was a mischievous look in your boyfriend eyes.

“I can’t fucking wait.” You whispered, longing for feeling his skin against yours.

You felt vibrating, radiating happiness as it never happened before.

Nikki was your boyfriend, Tommy and Vince your brother and Mick your dad.

You felt surrounded by love and most of all by the feeling of finally find a family.

And then it happened.

The ticking of the time bomb you always felt in your chest stopped.

This was really your family and you found it on your own.

[dir-khummel]

Touch Faith || PARA

Who: Kurt & Dante ( @dantes-got-jazz )

Where: Dante’s Dorm Room

When: February 14th, 2020

Notes/Triggers: NSFW. The pair of ex-fiancés run before they learn to walk.

It was well into the night by the time Kurt decided to make his way to Dante's door. It wasn't that he didn't think he could get home on his own, but he just didn't want to be alone. He was in a panic, and being by himself did not sound like a good idea. Instead, he wandered and watched as the Valentine carnival died down, the tents and venues started to the close, and the scents started to fade. And with all this, Kurt started to do think to hard. What he just did with Harlan was so, so fun; it was much more fun than Hunter said things like this would be. But, he could feel a bundle of guilt starting to ball up, threatening to explode. Kurt never, ever did things like this. He never did one night stands, he never did the things he did tonight with Harlan- hell, he did things with Nikkolai tonight that he had never done before! Turning him down, then turning around and sucking Harlan off- Even thinking it made the buzzing words in his brain start to hurt. It wasn't fair to Nikkolai, it wasn't fair to Harlan- And to top it all off, it wasn't fair to Dante. Whatever they were doing, whatever they were together, their lack of a label- it was all weighing down on Kurt. Dante clearly still loved him, even offering a place to stay for the night. For all Kurt knew, Dante had seen everything he had done tonight, all after Kurt pushed him away. He did that on purpose; seeing an ex-fiance on Valentine's Day, acting so sweet, clearly wanting to do something together, only to turn him down and go be with someone else- Kurt felt filthy. He didn't regret that he did it, he had fun! But he was clearly leading Dante on, and he needed to fix that. Kurt made it to Dante's dorm, knocking softly.

Dante's evening was enjoyable, but uneventful. He won the date auction for Nikkolai, but besides that, his evening was tame. He retired early, heading back to his dorm. All the sugar and festivities, not to mention the cups upon cups of coffee on top of packs of gum to keep himself from smoking, had him wired. To keep some semblance of his sleep schedule, he had to pull an all-nighter. So, much like the al-nighters he would pull in high school, he logged into Star Wars; The Old Republic. No al-night venture was complete without aimlessly playing an MMORPG. He sat down to play, content in placing more of his aimlessly collected yet valuable loot in his guild treasury when a knock came on his door. He gave an away-from-keyboard prompt before standing from his desk, walking over and opening the door. His eyes went wide, opening the door further when he saw his guest. "I will be honest, I was not expecting you to arrive tonight. I assumed, after what occurred with you and Harlan, I would not be receiving a visit from you."

“How do you- Oh. The bidding.” Kurt stepped inside, arms wrapped around himself. He paced a few times before suddenly turning to Dante. “I did something, Dante, I did a lot of somethings and I am not sure how to handle them or if I even should-“ Kurt stated, his fingers tapping his arm in nervousness. “Nikkolai confessed his feelings to me. He sang to me, he wrote such amazing things in a letter, and I... I shut him down. Gently, I think, but right after, I...” He paused, looking at Dante with the panic from easier. “I know this isn’t what you, off all people, want to hear, but I have no one else. I can’t talk to my brother, he is just now living his true self, I can’t weigh him down. And Rachel- I ditched her tonight! I abandoned her! I’m a terrible fucking friend, holy shit...” Kurt rubbed at his eyes, trying not to cry.

Dante had closed the door after Kurt stepped in, knowing better than to stop Kurt when he was rolling on. Kurt was dancing around his problems, again, but considering Dante’s lack of knowledge, he let Kurt prattle on. His eyebrow raised; so, Kurt was Nikko’s crush that broke his heart. It was a sick irony that Dante ran into him when he did. The two of them had much more in common than he thought. “Woah, hey,” Dante exclaimed, coming over to Kurt and taking his hands when he started to sob. “Take it easy. If something is wrong, if you are hurt, I will listen. Just tell me what happened.” Dante looked Kurt over, a worried look on his face. “Are you injured? Nikkolai’s brother is very unstable, did he attack you?”

“What? No, he didn’t attack me- I don’t even know him!” Kurt brushed Dante’s hands off, only to grab them, put them back, then take them away again. “I’m sorry, I just-“ Kurt shook his head, sliding his fingers in his hair. “I-I did a thing I said I would never do, and now it’s done, and I feel so guilty about it because I had fun, but it is all twisted and gross, I feel like shit, but I also feel really, really good all at once. But I ran, I ran away because I thought of you and how I’m not being fair to you, and it’s fucking Valentine’s Day and-“ Kurt reached out, gripping Dante’s shirt. “Promise me you won’t be mad. I-I’m gonna say it, it is gonna hurt, but you need to not be mad at me”

Dante was not sure how to process all of this. Kurt came to him for help; not his brother, or his friends, but him. Sure, they were on good terms, but well enough to Kurt to feel safe around him like this? Dante was elated. He took Kurt's hands, removing them from his shirt, holding them softly. "I promise. Fair or not, I do not own you. Whatever you did that you think could offend me may just be you over reacting.”

Kurt was shaking in Dante's hold, his blood itching under his skin. "A-after I turned Nikko down, I went to Harlan's dorm and blew him." Kurt spat out, in a rushed sentence, clearly said quickly to not hesitate midway through. He let it settle, before continuing. "I-It wasn't that I showed up and just fell on my knees! We were flirting all night, and he asked if I wanted to see a movie with him. I said yes, and things just... happened." Kurt looked up at Dante, eyes welling up with tears. "T-That is why it isn't fair to you. We aren't together, but we never really said if we wanted to be. This whole 'label-less' thing- It is only making this more complicated. The more we drag this on, the more we do stupid things- We're going to end up hating each other." Kurt placed a hand over Dante's mouth. "And don't say you could never hate me! If I can feel the way I feel about myself right now, I know damn well you could, too!"

Dante froze. A lump formed in his throat. Kurt was sexual with someone else. Someone that, for all intents and purposes, was the exact opposite of Dante. He was a dark city kid with a love for high class. From what Dante knew of Harlan, he was a country kid, filled to the brim with hometown manners and hospitality. And his dick was in Kurt's throat. Dante was about to argue, start to debate, but Kurt's hand over his mouth made him rethink his first reaction. Kurt did have a point. They weren't together, at all. So why was Dante feeling so utterly betrayed? He reached and took Kurt's hand from his mouth, waiting a full minute before speaking, looking Kurt dead in the eye. The moments of silence were deafening. "So... What do you expect me to do about it? Hmm? How am I supposed to fix this problem, one entirely of your own creation? Because it sounds to me like you want me to excuse your actions, you are looking for validation out of me."

"What? No, I just want to be honest with you, so I don't string you along!" Kurt backed away a few steps, dread building in his gut. "You said you wouldn't get mad- and I thought we agreed on this! We agreed to not label what e are to explore and see if we wander back together. This is what you wanted!" Kurt's hands started to shake, the cold splash of reality Dante just tossed hitting him like a a tidal wave. He shook his head, crossing his arms again. "This was a mistake, I should of just gone home." Kurt spat, making his way toward the door. "Sorry for bothering you, just forget it. Forget everything, we can just end it here."

"What, you are just going to run away, like back in New York?" Dante snapped, pointing at Kurt from behind. His voiced was shaking, not in anger, but a deep, regrettable sadness. "I am not fucking around, Kurt. You want my opinion? You coming in here and telling me you were with someone else was to goad my reaction, to see just how jealous I would get. Congratulations, you manipulative bitch, I am jealous." Dante placed his hands on his hips, biting his lip a moment. "But this isn't about me, is it? You could have fucked a thousand guys tonight, yet you still wandered in here." Dante took several dominating steps forward, placing a hand on the door to keep it closed, leaning over Kurt, nearly trapping him in place. "After being a prude your entire life, you are finally cutting loose and doing what you were always scared to do. You're guilty because, just like everyone else that does what you did, you feel empty afterword. So, you go chasing after the one person that can dick you down like the dirty whore, but adore you like the prince." Dante stopped, lifting Kurt's chin so they saw eye to eye. "Am I right?"

Kurt gasped as Dante ranted and raved, his tone of voice so dark and harsh, and it made Kurt shake even more. He coward to the door, feeling so small under Dante's overbearing form. Kurt didn't reach for the door handle, though. He just stood there, taking the verbal lashing with his head down. Dante was right, he was looking for some sort of reaction out of him. It really wasn't Dante's business, yet Kurt dragged him in anyway. Kurt's eyes went wide when Dante lifted him chin up, forcing him to face the problem head on. Kurt has so unsure what else to do, no amount of words could apologize or take back what he said to Dante here, riling him up like he did. With such a lack of space between them, he did what he thought would answer the question, and more. Kurt closed the gap between them, and with a sound that can only be described as a kitten's mewl, he kissed Dante.

Dante was not surprised that Kurt kissed him when he did. They were mere inches apart, and he was clearly frustrated with himself. Kurt needed an outlet, and for whatever reason, decided to come to him instead of staying with Harlan. Dante quickly took control of the kiss, sliding his tongue into Kurt's mouth, remembering all at once the hundreds of other times they had done this. Like a dam breaking under it's own pressure, so did Dante, grabbing Kurt by the waist and pulling him closer in, away from the door. He slid a hand up Kurt's back, under his shirt, breaking the kiss to lean to his ear. His breath was hot and desperate, begging for more in unspoken heaves of his chest. "You walk out of here, this never happened. If you stay, I will make it so you cannot walk till morning."

Kurt melted into the grabbing, the hold, the fiery hand snaking it's way up his bare back. All of this was familiar, yet gut-wrenching at the same time. By coming here and saying what he said, Kurt had yet again placed Dante's head on the chopping block. Dante was slotted in the guillotine, with Kurt holding the rope. It was the proper ultimatum he robbed of them years ago; now or never. Kurt closed his eyes as Dante spoke directly into his ear, his proposition ringing in his head over and over. He could cut clean, break it off here, the proper way. They would be done, and this guilt in his gut would have no reason to exist anymore. Kurt let the tears that held on for too long free, resting his cheek against Dante's. He let out a strangled laugh, moving Dante's hands so his finger tips were barely slipping under the waist of his jeans, inches from his ass.

Dante growled, animalistic and possessive, when Kurt laughed in his ear. He lifted Kurt as if he weighed nothing, bringing him to his bed and tossing him in. Dante practically pounced on him, locking their lips, reclaiming what was once his with tongue and teeth. Dante's hands took Kurt's wrists, pining them above his head. It only took one of Dante's large hands to pin both of Kurt's, his free hand gripping the back of Kurt's hair. His hold was not tight enough to hurt, but enough to get the other man's attention. "I am being serious. We can either keep chasing each other for eternity, or you leave and start over with someone else.”

Kurt yelped in surprise when Dante grabbed him, lifting him off the ground. he couldn’t help but break into a smile at the way Dante was acting; he was like an animal, primal and fearless. Kurt accepted the kiss, feeling like each second here was another stroke of a pen on a hidden contract, signing his soul away. It was filthy, it was hot, it felt way too good to be under Dante again. He was making yet another mistake, making things complicated, but kissing Dante, fully prepared to let Dante have his way with him. When the other man stopped again, Kurt gave him a desperate look. He tried to move his arms, but Dante had them pinned, unable to move. The yanking on his hair made him yelp, his vision clouded in the building passion. Kurt licked his lips, listening to Dante's cry for clarity, for simple terms, but Kurt was not a simple person. He loved complicated, the masochist in him making him smirk. He understood clearly what Dante meant. "I get it. Do you?" Kurt lifted his leg, rubbing his thigh against Dante's growing erection. "Be mine, Valentine?"

Dante laughed at the terrible joke, sucking through his teeth as Kurt's thigh ran over his erection. He was unable to keep the intimidating face with Kurt so ready underneath him. Without another word, Dante let go of Kurt's wrists, tugging his shirt off and starting the project of removing Kurt's clothing. "Damn it, rule number one, less of this." Dante motioned to the numerous buttons, trying to be respectful and unbutton them all properly, but the urge to just rip the clothing off Kurt was growing. He finally got to the last button, done with dealing with the clothing. He unbuckled Kurt's belt, flipping him onto his stomach and lifting his hips up, sliding his jeans down so they were around his knees. Kurt would be fully naked in time, but Dante was done waiting. He leered over Kurt, reaching around to stroke Kurt's hard cock. He found it already leaking precum, making his chuckle darkly in his throat. "What, did blowing him turn you on?"

Kurt shook his head, moving his thigh up and down as Dante tried undressing him. His stomach was on fire with a violent passion, and he could tell he was beyond hard in his jeans. A part of him wanted this to be slow and gentle, but the louder part of his brain wanted Dante to hurry up already. "It's part of the fun, the antici-" Kurt was cut off when Dante flipped him ripping his pants down. Kurt looked back at Dante, a smirk on his lips. He wiggled his hips a moment. "-pation, oh!" Kurt squeaked at the end, feeling Dante's large hand take hold of his cock. He knew he was hot when sucking Harlan off, but he didn't know it was this bad. Damn skinny jeans. Kurt groaned, leaned back so his bare ass pressed to Dante's clothed erection. "S-so what if it did, he had never gotten one from a guy before! He was like putty in my hands!"

Dante rolled his eyes, reaching for his night stand to find his bottle of lube ad Kurt recounted his encounter with Harlan. It made him snarl in jealousy- No matter, he'll have his cock in Kurt's mouth before morning light. Dante will wash him clean whatever hands had been palming him all night, with sweat and tears of passion. He leaned back and looked at Kurt, smirking at the sight of his hips swaying, his ass swinging back and forth. "You do realize you look ridiculous like this." Dante could tell what was happening. Like finding an old hoodie that still fits perfectly, they were sliding into their old banter, their old dirty talk from way back when. The sarcasm, the joking, the laughter mingled with moaning; so much for the plans of carnivorous passion. Their unique way of doing things was resurfacing again. And even though Dante still planned to keep Kurt up all night, it was less in a sense of revenge or malice, but their simple passion. Dante flipped Kurt back over, showing him the bottle of lube. "Last chance." he said, his free hand slowly stroking Kurt's member up and down.

Kurt grunted when he was manhandled, yet again, looking at what was in Dante's hand, his hips bending upward when Dante took a hold on his cock again. At this point, all the safety checks were annoying him. He sat up, leaning forward and taking Dante's lips again, sneaking his tongue into Dante's mouth to make sure the message was loud and clear. He pulled away, his lips a bit bruised now with all the making out he had done that day. He slid his mouth to Dante's ear, biting the lobe before letting it go, one of his hands sliding down to Dante's crotch, palming his cock in his boxer briefs. "Just because I was called Porcelain in high school doesn't mean I am made of it. I want you to fuck me. Is that direct enough for you?"

Dante was surprised at the sudden kiss, but took it in stride, letting Kurt explore his mouth, tasting all he could. His breath was hot when they disconnected again, Dante chuckling when Kurt bit his ear and spoke softly into it. "Got you." He said, his words punctuated with the opening of the cap off the lube, shivering under Kurt's touch on his member. He spun Kurt on his stomach again, this time showing he finally decided on position by sliding his newly lubed fingers between Kurt's plump cheeks. It was a dance he knew well, he had done this to Kurt so many times, but it was no less exciting. He felt like he was achieving a victory, like his saved time was finally being paid off. His heart was nearly imploding; he had Kurt in his bed, actually begging to get fucked. This was indeed a victory. Dante decided to quit with the inner monologue, leaning over Kurt again and carefully sliding a finger into Kurt's puckered hole. Familiar warmth, familiar tightness, familiar position. He watched for any discomfort as he slid the digit in and out, slowly.

Kurt moaned out when, finally, Dante got out of whatever headspace he was in and started to actually work Kurt open. This was nothing like blowing Harlan earlier. Then, he was nervous, second guessing every movement, every pause, every breath. But here, he was desperate, nearly begging for Dante to hurry up. He keened at Dante's first finger; he hadn't done this in years, not even by himself. Yet, Dante's body over his, his scent on the sheets, he hands on him- Shit, he was sure this was the same brand of lube they used. Everything was like retracing steps, relearning how to ride a bike. Kurt started to move his hips in time with Dante's fingers; something in his stomach aching for more. Without speaking, Kurt's motioned asked for faster, harder, and was given it. His eyes went wide when another finger was added, looking down to peak at Dante. "D-did your fingers get bigger or am I just going crazy?"

Dante let out a single laugh, working his two fingers in and out. "You are willingly letting me fuck you. That qualifies as crazy. And tight." Dante added a little more lube to his fingers when we moved to add a third finger. He wanted to coax more sounds, more moans out of Kurt's precious mouth. "Come now, darling, do not hold out on me. You used to sing symphonies for me, let your voice out." Dante thought a moment, smirking just out of Kurt's view. He turned his hand downward, curling his fingers in a soft swirling motion, watching Kurt's reaction intently.

"W-what, do you mean, I am practically a steam engine here, if I huff anymore I'll- Ah!" Kurt stopped mid-sentence, feeling just what Dante was aiming at. He found it, with ease. His fingers curled directly against his prostate, the strength in his arms failing as his face pressed into the pillows. The noises coming out of him were attempts at words, lost halfway out of his mouth, resembling broken mewls and missing moans being let free. "Y-You jerk," Kurt got out, just enough to bury his face into the pillow, hiding his vibrant cheeks and neck.

A self-satisfied chuckle signaled Dante's purposeful playing, removing his fingers when he felt he had done enough. Finally, Dante dropped his boxer briefs to the floor, his cock standing hard and tall. He took the time he needed to cover his cock in lube to admire is handy-work. Kurt was a mess, and Dante was not even halfway done with him. He returned to the bed, placing one hand on Kurt's waist, and the other holding his cock just outside Kurt's entrance. "I'm coming in.”

Kurt waited. And waited. And waited even more as Dante readied himself behind him. He was about to ask him to hurry when he felt his large hands on him. Kurt nodded when Dante started to push in, so blissed out from his expert fingering he could hardly form a sentence. He was clearly further along than he thought; once's Dante's cock slid deeper and deeper in, Kurt keened. As if on queue with Dante bottoming out, fully seated inside, Kurt's back arched, his first orgasm softly rippling through him in a slow, rhythmic wave. He chased it, like a dog chases a rabbit. He carefully move his hips back and forth, settling down a minute later, reaching back to grab Dante's wrist when he gained some of his sanity. "N-not a word out of you."

Dante watched in fascination as Kurt came on his cock, ignoring the fact they forgot to put something over his sheets to protect them from such a feat. He was watching Kurt practically use him like a toy to chase it, Dante unable to stop himself from laughing in absolute joy when Kurt demanded he not speak. "You are kidding, right? If it is still this easy to make you cum, I am going to exploit it. Now," Dante, with one hand on Kurt's hip, the other on his upper back. "Just relax and look pretty. Maybe I can get another out of you." Dante teased, starting his thrusts, in and out, methodical and slow in speed. He watched as Kurt's hole gripped his cock, a sight he admired since their first time. He was silent, not much of a moaner, not wanting to cause any noise pollution that could hinder Kurt's luminous sounds.

Kurt was still shivering from his first orgasm when Dante started thrusting, drawing further gasps and moans out of him. There was no way he could speak in that moment, overcome with the pleasure from Dante's consistent pace. It was a constant drag in and out, against parts of him so secret. He still had a hold on Dante's wrist for stability if nothing else. His brain was flying, thinking about everything and nothing. Blowing Harlan, then how he was in Dante's bed. Then thinking about how taboo this was, then not caring anymore when Dante angled his hips just right. Caught up in how probably was going to regret this in the morning, then hoping they were still doing this in the morning when a particular nerve had him moaning out again. Thinking about how busy his head was, then going utter blank all in a matter of moments. He had no clue how long they had been at this, but soon enough, a coil in his stomach started to curl, along with his fingers gripping the sheets. "D-Dante, I'm gonna-"

Dante, as much as he would hate to admit it, was out of practice. This first roll in the sheets was going a lot faster than he hoped. He had not been with anyone since Kurt left, and no amount of masturbation could prepare anyone for just how unique Kurt was in bed. His little mewls and cries encouraged Dante to do better, but at the same time were his weakness. Dante could tell Kurt was approaching his second orgasm of the night when he clenched down on Dante's dick, which was not helping with his own state. He was letting out periodical grunts, a sheen of sweat on his skin from the physical excursion. Dante draped his body over Kurt's back, reaching around again to take hold of Kurt's cock. "T-together, darling. With me." Dante rasped out, his pace increasing in tempo.

It wasn't Kurt's concern if they came at the same time; he had no choice in the matter. Dante's hand on him weeping cock, paired with the ravaging of his ass, and he was gone, eyes rolling in the back of his head with a weak whimper. He had no body strength left, collapsing to the bed, residing to let Dante do the heavy lifting. He had stars in his eyes, and sweat everywhere else. He was sticky, and honestly could not imagine anywhere else he'd like to be, coasting the ride of his orgasm. When he could feel his toes again, he tried to move, only to find he was pin underneath the other man. He tried to turn his head to see, but only saw the black mass of hair as a welcome. He smiled, tapping the crown of his head twice. "You're still in me." he said casually, his voice raspy an hoarse from all the moaning he had done already.

Dante lost the feeling in his legs when he finally came, collapsing on top of Kurt. There initial burst of pleasure slowly faded, Dante tenderly placed kisses to Kurt's shoulder as the aftershocks raced through him. The tapping on his head had him looking up, smirking softly. "Really? I could not tell," Dante joked, thrusting in one more time for good measure before pulling out and rolling onto his back. He brought Kurt with him, chest to chest. Dante cupped Kurt's cheek softly, his eyes overflowing with admiration. He let out a breath of heartfelt disbelief. "Be your valentine? That is your inviting line?"

Kurt let Dante turn him over, Kurt now using Dante as the mattress, considering their size difference. He rolled his eyes. "I was trying to shut you up!" Kurt teased, leaning his face into Dante's hand. It was blissful, for all of a few seconds, before his relaxed smile faded into a concerned frown. He lifted his head, raising his upper body on his right arm so his body weight was no longer relying on Dante for support. He looked at the bed, the mess they made, their lack of dress, the sweat on their skin; he just fucked his ex. He manipulated his ex into sleeping with him. His heart rate started to pick up, finally looking Dante into the eyes with a new look of shock and horror on his face. "We just... We, ah..."

"No, no, you dare not." Dante exclaimed, able to see right away what was going on in Kurt's head from the swiftness of his eyes, to the vanishing smile on his face. Dante lifted himself onto his forearms, moving his head to get Kurt's attention. "I can see what you are doing. You are going to start rationalizing and coming up with excuses for what just happened. Fuck that." Dante, took Kurt's left hand, holding it tightly. "You wanted this, I asked you over and over if this is what you wanted. You said yes. You wanted to have sex, Kurt. It is completely natural. Better yet, you skipped out on someone else to have sex with me." Perhaps it was the post-coital bliss, but Dante was on the moon, overflowing with happiness and love for the man currently on top of him. "We had fun, Kurt. I love doing this with you, I love giving you what you want. There is no need to think so hard, just enjoy yourself."

"But it has to be more than that! it is so much more complicated than where you put your dick!" Kurt argued, his shoulders shaking in scared realization at what they did. "T-Things were already on thin ice with us, we only just got onto speaking terms, and I used being with someone else to get with you- I used you to get off! Doesn't that piss you off? Aren't you mad at me?" He looked Dante over, seeing his blissful smile, the lack of stress in his body language, making his own shoulders slump. "...Why aren't you mad at me?”

Dante shook his head, moving Kurt so he sat on the bed, able to sit up properly and look him dead on. "I am not mad because after waiting for years, literal years, I just had sex with the love of my life." Dante waved his hand away, as if to shoo away some invisible bother. "Humans manipulating each other happens all the time, it is part of our nature. And yes, I got pissed, I am jealous. I would really like it if you didn't do it again, but I also understand that I don't own you. We aren't together. I wish you finally would see that we can try again, and finally use those labels we are avoiding, but I will settle for now with knowing I had the pleasure of sharing your evening." Dante ran his fingers in Kurt's hair. "Besides, if you manipulating me means I get you in my bed, please, do it more often.

Kurt let out a crushed breath as Dante let out his reason for such irresponsible happiness. 'Love of his life.' Kurt didn't deserve that title, yet here they sat, covered in each other's fluids, behaving just like they did years ago, all because Kurt put his prudish behaviors aside for a single night. Dante's fingers in his hair were a stabilizing force, cracking a smile at Dante's last line, covering his face in shame and disbelief the man would say such a thing. Again, Kurt found himself unable to find words, instead leaning forward to taking Dante's lips in a sweet, tender kiss. It was hurting at this point to kiss, the sheer number of how many he shared today able to outshine his past two years combined, but he didn't care. He pushed Dante back onto the bed, finally peeling off his boots and tugging the jeans that were trapped around his ankles onto the floor, breaking the kiss when he was properly straddling the other man. "Is this manipulating enough?"

Dante took the kiss at Kurt's pace, letting him lead their dance for now. It was soft yet powerful, much like Kurt himself. Dante laid back onto the bed at Kurt's push, watching with a chuckle in his throat as Dante's forgotten task to actually get Kurt completely naked was completed. Dante ran a hand up Kurt's chest when the other man towered above him, a devious smile growing on his face. He tossed his hands up in fake defeat, still beside himself this was even happening at all. "You've got me."

[ghostbustermelanieking]

5 headcanon AU, if you feel so inclined. Mulder takes the deal with Cancer Man to save Scully during Redux.

1. He takes the deal. He signs his life away for her, telling himself it’s worth it, telling himself he can poison them from the inside out, that he can finally find out what they did to his sister.

He goes to see her one more time, where she’s sleeping in her hospital bed. He breaks down at her bedside, sobbing so loud he’s shocked he doesn’t wake her, but he’s glad she stays asleep. He doesn’t think he could do this if he talked to her again.

He swallows back his tears, stands over her bed and kisses her forehead softly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, knowing she’d hate him if she knew what he was doing. “I’m so sorry.”

And then he leaves, a shadow figure against the wall of her dark hospital room.

2. Scully cries when she gets the news: she is not dying anymore. She is going to live. She cries with her mother clutching her hands and sobbing right along with her. She hugs her brother, her mother, wipes her eyes on the corner of her blanket. And then she says, “I need to call Mulder. I need to tell him.”

Bill gives her his cell phone and she dials Mulder’s number almost without thinking. She’s so eager to tell him, to hear his voice, that every ring seems like a prolonging. She’s nearly holding her breath. But Mulder doesn’t answer.

She tries again and again throughout the day, throughout the cycle of doctors and tests and overjoyed visitors. No answer. For a few hours, she’s so terrified he’s been arrested she can hardly breathe, and when Skinner comes to visit, she growls, “Where is he?” with animosity so fierce she nearly comes out of her hospital bed to get to him. (She’s still not sure she can trust Skinner.) But Skinner has no idea, either. He seems as concerned as she does. And that’s when Scully really starts to worry.

She keeps trying his cell phone long after everyone else has left. She’s exhausted, but all she can do is curl up in her horrible hospital bed and dial his number again and again. She shuts her eyes in defeat when it goes to voicemail.

3. She starts looking as soon as she gets home. Not a second later. She has to sneak around her mother—which is absolutely ridiculous, she is a grown women, but her mother is stiflingly protective—but she does it anyway. She calls the Gunmen, who argue with her and tell her she should rest, and reassure her that they are looking for him. (They sent her several huge bouquets of flowers in the hospital.) She ignores them, drives right over to their apartment and demands to know what they’ve found.

The answer seems to be nothing. His apartment is still a crime scene. They have no idea where he was staying. They can’t trace his movements on that day. They’re monitoring police reports for any signs of him and coming up with nothing. Scully tries his mother, tries every associate she can think of, tries to find a way to get in touch with that contact of his. No luck. She’s frustrated, worried, and she wants to see him so badly.

She’s firmly believed that Mulder had been abducted or something or the sort that day. She refuses to consider the possibility that he’s dead, and she knows he wouldn’t have left her on purpose. Or at least she thinks she knows. But one night, after a failed meeting with Mulder’s contact, she finds herself being dragged into an alley, an annoying familiar face in front of hers. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Scully,” Krycek hisses, letting her of her as soon as she sees his face.

Scully takes a swing without thinking, hitting him straight in the nose. He flinches hard, but makes no move to strike back. “Fuck you,” she hisses. “Where is he? What have you done with him?”

He laughs, smug enough that Scully wants to sock him again. “I haven’t done a damn thing, Scully. He did it himself. He doesn’t want you looking for him.”

She freezes, suddenly cold. “What the hell are you talking about,” she says softly.

Krycek shrugs. “Your partner went over to the dark side,” he says dryly, and Scully’s breath falters. “He made a deal with the smoker to save your life.”

She gasps a little for air in astonishment, stumbling back from him. Her knuckles sting. “He didn’t,” she says dumbly.

He nods, almost bluntly. “I’m just surprised he didn’t tell you,” he says, turning and walking away.

Scully’s shoulder hits the wall too hard. She rubs at her bruised knuckles with a dumbfounded sort of horror, breathing too hard. She knew he wouldn’t leave her. She never really thought he’d leave her.

4. It makes more sense as she walks back to her car, her hands cold. Mulder has always been stupidly self-sacrificing. He faked his death to try and find her cure. He wouldn’t let her take the fall for the dead man in his apartment, looked down at her with the softest fucking eyes and said that he wouldn’t do that because he couldn’t live with it.

(So how, she wants to know, could he live with this? Leaving her like this? Joining the people who took his sister when they could’ve been lying? She’s almost sure that it was the chip that cured her, so what good would joining them do? How could he do this to her?)

She’s furious, that first night. Angry, raving, ferociously sad. She swears she’s done. She’s going to quit the X-Files, transfer to Quantico, and never think about him again. She drinks half a bottle of wine and passes out on her couch, cold and shivering. When she wakes up, she has a tremendous headache, and she’s mostly just sad. She buries her face in a throw pillow and shuts her eyes.

She doesn’t stop looking for him. She doesn’t think she could stop looking for him, and anyhow, he’s never stopped looking for her. When she tells the Gunmen, a look of dismay passes over their faces briefly before Frohike says grimly, “I’m not surprised.” You should’ve seen him when you were on the hospital, he says. He was so worried, he would’ve done anything. Scully swallows and nods, pretends she doesn’t want to cry.

They begin monitoring records for signs of Mulder’s popular alliases. It’s slow going, of course, but Scully helps as much as she can. Drives straight to their apartment after work and crowds on a laptop between Langly and Frohike to search for her best friend. She can’t decide if she’s furious or worried. She isn’t sure. All she knows is that she has to find him. She has to see him, even if it’s the last time.

It’s been months. Months. She’s newly back at work off medical leave, and it’s strange, so strange to be there without Mulder. There’s a partnership seminar that she misses because she has no partner. Skinner starts to talk of assigning her a new partner. She staunchly refuses. She knows she might never work with Mulder again, but she doesn’t want another partner. She has a partner. She takes a few cases to keep up appearances, but her mind keeps returning to the case that takes precedence over all. She gets distracted, lost in her thoughts, constantly looking to her side only to find nothing there.

It’s when she’s on a case, in Connecticut, when she gets the call. It’s Frohike, his voice some strange combination of excited and concerned. “We found him. Scully, we found him. He’s renting an apartment in Boston. It’s an old alias, but it’s him. We’re almost positive.”

It’s all she needs. She gets the address and thanks them three times before hanging up. She doesn’t stop to think about whether or not it’s a good idea. She doesn’t care. She drives straight to Boston without hesitation. She wants only what she has wanted ever since she found out she was in remission: to see Mulder.

5. Scully finds his apartment and breaks in. She learned to pick locks in high school, some absent habit of Missy’s they learned on a boring snow day. She still has the key to his old apartment on her key ring, despite the fact that she hasn’t been using it. She holds it curled in the palm of her hand when she gets into the apartment, clutching the key hard as she stands against the counter. The toothy part cuts into her palm. This apartment is shittier than the one in Alexandria, much shittier. No leather couch, no fish tank. She stares at the tiled floor in the dim kitchen.

She only looks up when she hears the sound of the door opening, the key in the lock. His head is turned away from her, towards the door, but it’s him. It’s him. A lump rises in her throat. She can’t decide if she wants to punch him or kiss him. “Mulder,” she says softly.

But not so softly that he can’t hear. He turns towards her, a look of shock on his face, and that’s when she sees it. The split lip, the black eye. She gasps. “Scully?” he says, confused. “Wh-what are you doing here?” He laughs astonishedly, nervously.

She doesn’t move. She’s clutching his key too hard and just staring. “What happened to you,” she whispers, and she’s startled to find that she’s on the verge of tears.

He blinks. He shrugs, sheepishly. “Moral disagreement. Collateral damage. Whatever you wanna call it.”

She takes a shaky breath, another. She is moving towards him before she knows it, crashing into him and clinging hard. “You ass,” she hisses into his chest, her fingers digging into his jacket. “I was so scared. I was so worried, Mulder. I thought they’d taken you.”

He holds her tentatively, like she’s going to pull away: one hand on her back, one hand tangled in her hair. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry. I-I thought I was helping you.” He’s rocking her back and forth, rocking her back and forth. “I didn’t wanna lose you,” he whispers.

“So you left me,” she says, her voice rough and accusatory. But she doesn’t let go of him. She thought he was dead.

“I didn’t want to.” He kisses her temple. “I didn’t want to. I missed you so much.”

“I thought you were dead,” she murmurs, hugging him hard. “I looked for you. I thought I’d never see you again.”

He strokes her hair, cupping the back of her head. “You shouldn’t be here,” he chides in a soft voice. “I think they’re watching me.”

She draws back to look at his face, touching the spot below his swelled eye with the pads of her fingers. “What did they do to you?” she whispers.

He winces as she touches the bruise, yanking back. “I told you. Moral disagreement.”

“Jesus Christ.” She kisses his cheek on an impulse, her eyes wide and wet. “You’ve got to get out of here, Mulder,” she whispers, gathering his hands in hers.

He shakes his head. His eyes are dark, haunted. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” An angry pit is forming in her stomach, hard and painful. She wants to kill whoever did this to him, put a gun right between the smoker’s eyes.

“No, I can’t.” He swallows, covers her hand with his. “Scully, the things I’ve seen… what I know now… they’d kill me before they’d let me leave.”

“Oh, Mulder.” She strokes his knuckles with one thumb. “How many times have they threatened something like that? They won’t go through with it.”

“This time is different,” he whispers. “This time, they have nothing to lose. They’ll kill me… and then there’s nothing stopping them from getting to you.” He blinks slowly, thumbing her hair behind her ear. His eyes are as wet as hers. “I can’t lose you, Scully,” he whispers.

“You won’t lose me,” she says, almost sternly. “You saved me. I’m still here because of you.”

He shakes his head. “You should go,” he says, but his voice breaks. Shows his bluff.

She shakes her head right back. “You saved me,” she says. “Now it’s my turn, Mulder.”

He shakes his head again, but it’s weaker this time. He shuts his eyes.

She palms the side of his face, careful to avoid the bruises. She says, as strict as she has ever sounded, “I’m not leaving you here.”

[asrasleftnipple]

Backstory

Muriel x Lyria (oc)

*i don’t use my oc’s name in this but i wrote it w her in mind but! feel free to change the pronouns in your mind and imagine your apprentice in her place!

This is my first time posting a fic lol, shred me if you want, english is my first language so if it’s trash, i so sory

She has rich parents who don’t pay much attention to her but are also disappointed in her lascivious ways

Ended up getting kicked out of school but instead of going home, she began training under a talented herbalist

Learned magic accidentally 

Eventually left town with money, herbs, and a small makeshift medicine kit

Ended up in Vesuvia

Got famous on the way, she became really gifted 

Got invited to the palace when she arrived

Befriended Nadia (who really doesn’t care who fucks who)

Jucio took an interest to her immediately

He pestered her but she wasn’t taking his shit

Still ended up sleeping with him a few nights later (it was terrible)

Meets Asra the day after at a luncheon (at breakfast-time) in the garden

He warns her that Lucenzo isn’t who she thinks he is and tells her about his “Scourge of the South”

She was hella convinced

Asra tells her to get out as soon as possible

Arranges for her to meet a friend at the Rowdy Rave

She goes to the coliseum later that day with Nadia and Lucio

Horrified at the bloodlust

Horrified at Lucio

Horrified at the violence and gore

Slips through the crowd as soon as it’s over

She basically sprints to the Rowdy Raven and shouts breathlessly “Is anyone here a doctor?!”

Everyone just looks at her

Jules pops up all concerned and shit

“I’m a doctor, what’s wrong?! Who’s hurt??”

She’s like oh, do you know Asra?

Chaos ensues

Has to smuggle her ass through to the edge of the forest bc Ucio has guards scouring the city for his wayward “court magician” (she declined the job offer)

She dazzles him with her suave flirting and finesse until she ends up taking a fucking plunge into one of the canals

Ilya only has time to drag her out of the water, pry off a vampire eel and throw her over his shoulder because the guards spotted them and were coming in hot

When they reach the edge of the forest Muriel is waiting for them

She claims she’s fine and that she can stand and promptly eats shit

Falls towards Muriel instead of Julian

Muriel just lets her hit the ground bc he wasn’t expecting that at all

Julian has to stop the bleeding before they can even think about moving on

Muriel parts with Julian and carries her to his hut

She needs to recover for a few days, in that time Muriel discovers that she’s a mega flirt… just not with him. She can’t really talk properly around him…

Asra, and Julian (much to Muriel’s dismay), come through a few times to check on her

She immediately turns it on:

Asra is only a bit flustered at the beginning but starts to take it playfully

Ilya’s life is ruined

He can hardly form a proper sentence, she’s laying it on so thick

Might pass out from high blood pressure

One night, while Muriel’s with the chickens and Inanna, she asks Asra about Muriel’s scars (bc she can hardly look at him without actually making a whole fool of herself, nevermind ask him a personal question)

He pauses, “before I tell you, be patient and gentle with him?”, when she nods he pauses for a long time

Then all he says is “remember when I told you about the Scourge of the South...?”

She goes buckwild (Faust says Rowdy!)

Starts getting hysterical

“H-he did that to him!?!??!?!? That- that fucking monster!!!”

Tries to get up even though she’s still injured, Asra is like “oh shit chill”

“He’s killed so many people!! He’s like a fucking plague!”

Muriel overhears and just assumes she talking about him

Meanwhile, she’s still flipping tables inside calling The Count a variety of Bad Things

All of a sudden goes very still and very calm

“I’m going to kill him”

“N O”

Muriel’s heard enough (or so he thinks) and goes deeper into the forest with Inanna. He’s gone for hours

Meanwhile, she starts sobbing

Asra eventually calms her all the way down with some magic help, tea, and squeezes from Faust

She explains her whole predicament from sex with Lucio to her feelings for Muriel and how she feels like she owes it to Muriel to end The Count

Asra lets her cry on him until she falls asleep and he has to go back to the shop

It’s almost noon the next day and Muriel still isn’t back

She starts to panic “fuck, what if he heard me crying last night and thinks I’m fucking hysterical?”

Is restless as fuck

Finally over it, she puts on some clothes and leaves the hut (like a damned fool)

She calls out to Muriel for what feels like hours

She’s starting to feel dizzy… she hadn’t eaten that day and her wound? That shit hurted (but not as much as her heart!)

Decides to take a nap under a random tree, actually going into shock bc she fucked around and reopened the bite

Inanna smells the blood and leads an unknowing Muriel to her, sniffling at the unconscious magician (stupid head)

“What are you doing out here?!”

She jolts up and squints at him

“Puppy?”

He carries her back to the hut (bc he’s totally soft for her)

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe”

“... what?”

He takes care of her bloodied clothes and redresses her wound

“... why … would you do something like that?”

“... I- I can’t tell you yet”

Muriel thinks it’s some assassination plot and gets hella closed off and also mad at himself because it was so fucking easy for her to get him right back where she wants him

He closes off immediately and she’s reminded of what Asra told her last night, why he’s a hermit who doesn’t trust anyone but him

Starts sniffling

“... what are you doing?”

Then she just flat out cries with them ghibli tears

“What’s wrong…??!” ol boy Muriel is starting to panic

She can only choke out “I am so sorry” over and over until she can’t speak properly

Muriel is still lost as hell “what do you have to be sorry for?”

She finally looks him in the eye “for sleeping with him! … for what he did to you”

Muriel is shook as fuck

“What he-? You.... you don’t think I’m a monster? That I’m a plague?”

She finally understands his meaning even though her mind is a fog of pain, dizziness, and tears

“Of course I don’t think that! I was talking about- … about Lucio. You’re not disgusted at me…?” she croaks

He shakes head and strokes her head softly as a fresh wave of tears hit her

Muriel sits on his bed with her silently until she falls asleep, curled up in pelts with Inanna

He thinks back to when she said that she would “kill him” and breathes out a short huff of a laugh

She’s so small and so fierce… like… a little bear

He knows she can’t go back to the city because of The Capricorn™️ and he’s already gotten used to having her around and so has Inanna

“Alright, Little Bear, don’t worry anymore”

He lets her feed the chickens all the time and cooks her favorite dish whenever she gets cramps

Eventually lets her braid his hair with flowers

Asra brings them their bread when he visits

Julian stops by a lot less frequently than Asra, but one night has them both try a salty bitters and is #banned

She dances in the rain too much and just grins at an exasperated Muriel when she drips water all over the goddamn floor

She makes Muriel sleep on his bed with her, she won’t take no for an answer

Learns to cook his favorite meal and has Julian smuggle her some black mead as a birthday surprise for Muriel

He actually smiles at her to her face!

One morning she’s trying to wake him up because his arm is heavy and she needs to get up to feed the chickens and he just mumbles “what is it, Little Bear?” and she just drops dead right there

The boys are devastated (kidding)

She just can’t speak properly for hours but Muriel falls back asleep, oblivious

She goes swimming with Inanna on a hot summer afternoon but stays out late so he goes to find her for dinner

She neked

He wasn’t fucking ready

He’s red for the rest of the night and she’s like Muriel: 264; me: 1

Sometimes she sneaks kisses on his shoulders and arms but they’re so light he doesn’t notice

Gets caught once

“That was you??”

Can’t look him in the eye for a week

She was having a one-sided conversation with Inanna and hears a strange sound behind her

It was Muriel. He laughed. Out loud. Surprised everyone including himself

One night she and Muriel get caught in the rain

Strippinggggg

They’re both a mess in the duration of peeling off their soaked clothing

She sits wrapped in a pelt in front of the fire

There’s hella firewood so Muriel has no fucking excuse to leave

Just wraps a pelt around his waist and goes about making tea

Once that’s done, he’s forced to awkwardly sit by her in front of the fire

She’s getting bold now, letting the pelt slip down her shoulders and leaning against him

Poor man almost fucking combusts

Now or never, bitch

She stutters out some dumb confession and Muriel just looks away and smiles softly “I know, Little Bear”

After that, she can’t keep her hands off him

She always at least lightly lacing their fingers when they’re near

And she kisses his face A Lot

It always flusters him without fail

Likes to hug him all the time. She’s like a koala but cuter

Eventually convinces him to take off his collar

Asra comes over for a picnic and immediately senses the difference (cue The Smirk)

She tells him about Muriel’s nickname for her and he just eats it up lmao

Teases Muriel the most

“Can I help plan the wedding? We can invite Nadi!”

Before she feeds the chickens one morning, she goes to peck Muriel on the cheek

She  m is s ed

Muriel was so red haha she just giggled and flitted away

Makes it a mission to see how riled up she can get him

He caved after 2 days when she tugged on his earlobe with her teeth

NSFW later---

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but the discord said it was cute or whatever so here it is

[thewildheroine]

Rain Storms |P.P. One Shot|

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Angst, depression, hopelessness, heavy sobbing, feelings of uselessness

WC: 3.4K

Song: You There by Aquilo

A/N: I had a really tough week so I wrote this to feel a little better. I hope you guys enjoy.

____________

She preaches about motivation and dedication. Of pushing through the hardest obstacles and persevering no matter what, and they believe her. Every time they believe the words that curl past her lips and into classrooms like they’re being read out of some sacred text. That’s what she makes it sound like every time. She’s always so confident when she encourages people. Always so sure. Funny thing is though, she lacks in both of those things.

Before high school, Y/N was resolute in everything she did. She never needed the extra push to get through a day’s homework and when she did procrastinate she still managed to make her assignments the best that they possibly could be. Now, no consequences can push her to do something until the last possible second. Motivation doesn’t come until late at night and even then it is in short spurts of energy. A paragraph here, an equation there. By the time she finishes, the clock may read midnight, and on some occasions, two in the morning.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to be good in school anymore. Anyone who talks to her will no that. She wants to succeed, to keep straight A’s, to do her absolute best.

But the beast that has its hooked claws deep in Y/N’s soul refuses to let go. It sucks away any motivation she has in her. Her dedication dwindles more and more every day. She finds herself tired every moment of every day. The vitamins Y/N’s mother forces her to take every day do nothing. No matter what she’s always tired. Always staring at the blank paper and glowing white document in front of her and wishing for some of her passion back.

The beast won’t give it back though, so she fakes it, sometimes to the extreme. She fights as hard as she can, giving herself small tasks throughout the day and working up to the bigger ones. She tries making a list:

Pick up clothes.

Feed pets

Clean room/desk area

Writing homework (PEAL paragraph)

Spanish workbook

20 Physics problems

She makes reminders on her phone:

English Assignment due tomorrow

Vacuum room

Study for calc test

No matter what she’s always looking at that damned clock though, reading 12:15 or 1:30 or one night even 3:07. Y/N never did bother going to sleep that night.

It’s not that she doesn’t get in assignments when they’re due. She always has her A’s and B’s. The amount of effort to keep it that way is unbelievable though.

That’s not the worst part though. Y/N used to always be so sure of what she wanted to be. When people would ask she’d exclaim, “A zookeeper!”, “An actor!”, “A vet!”, and most recently, “A writer”. She’d always say that with such a wide smile. Most of her aspirations were replaced with another months after having them. Writing was her thing when she was in fourth grade though. She adored writing and when she began sharing it, other’s adored it as well. They complimented it, saying that she would have a future in fiction.

As she entered middle school the people around her began singing a different tune…

“You want to be paid a lot, don’t you.” Y/N said that more money would be nice.

“Are you just gonna become a homebody? Aren’t you afraid you’ll start gaining weight?” Y/N started playing more sports.

“Writing won’t get you anywhere in life.” She explored more careers.

“Get into a medical or technology field! Those won’t be going away anytime soon.” Y/N said she would look into becoming a surgeon.

But just like before, all these aspirations faded, and once she finally accepted that writing was and would always be her heart’s home, that had faded too.

She tries pushing it, giving herself deadlines. Sometimes that will work. She’ll write for hours at a time, inspiration and motivation and dedication flowing through every vein in her body. When her pieces get complimented, she’ll write five thousand words in a day.

Other days, she’ll stare at a blank screen, praying and begging for something to come to her. She’ll grow dispassionate after some time though. Today is one of those days.

Y/N’s eyes burn, her mind tired. She doesn’t know why. She remembers getting nine hours last night. Then she also recalls only getting twenty hours total the past five days. Her mom tries to pick up her spirits as always. She takes Y/N out. Takes her shopping, takes her to go see her brother who buys her a movie that she was raving about days ago. Her heart doesn’t leap out of excitement the entire time though. It remains stagnant in her chest, pulsing at its usual slow, steady pace. Y/N doesn’t expect more.

It’s when her mom is driving the both of them home does her heart do something finally.

The conversation started out on the topic of the upcoming NMSQT. Y/N’s mom said that she should do it to get scholarships. Y/N said that she shouldn’t. She says she should take the ASVAB because she doesn’t know what she’s going to do with her life. She’s prepared to laugh afterward to distract her mom from the truth in her words. The chuckle doesn’t come though.

Y/N doesn’t remember much between this. All she can truly recall is tilting her head away from her mother as tears began streaming down her face because it’s true. She doesn’t know what she wants to do. Years ago she used to be so positive. A writer. She wanted to be a writer. What now though? What would the beast allow her to dream for? Of course Y/N’s seen people push through this illness. They do great things too. For some reason, she can’t see herself where they are anymore. All she can see from where she is standing is a blank slate. An infinite expanse of white deserts. Hot and angry and murderous. With the ASVAB she’d at least know where she should go. A set point.

Like always, Y/N’s mom sees her tears though and the first thing she asks is if she’s been taking her vitamins. Like always, Y/N says, “I’ve been trying”. The tears come faster as her mom tells her that it’s okay that she doesn’t know where she’s going. She’ll figure it out one day and on that day all the pieces will come together. Y/N knows what she wants to be though. A writer. She wants to write. She needs to write. Writing is who she is. She only cries though, the hiccups too frequent for any words to be coherent.

Now, she sits her room, the clock reading nine as she stares at the physics homework she has yet to start. The two windows are the color of pitch and outside she can hear what seems like a thousand crickets chirping in perfect unison. Thunder growls all of the sudden and her mind moves quietly to her friend, who is undoubtedly swinging through Queens right now with his webs, something she helped him upgrade on one of the afternoons where her inspiration was in full swing.

She begins to wonder if she is capable of magic when Peter himself taps on her window. Y/N can make out the dark red outline of his Spider suit. If she tries hard enough, she can also see his bright hazel eyes. The ones that always gleam. He looks tired but happy, like usual.

Peter, however, sees the opposite. He sees that distinct anguish he’s come to know far too well in one of his best friends. The makeup on her face is beginning to slip away, revealing the purpling bags under her y/e/c eyes. Or maybe that’s just mascara. Peter can never tell. Y/N always starts wiping that away when she gets home after school. She smiles though and it is as bright as it can ever get when she seems as upset as she is now.

The young hero watches as the girl strides over to her window, unlatching the locks and peeling the screen up so he can get through.

“Más gracias señorita,” he remarks as he climbs into her room, his gloved hand sticking to the ceiling. She silently remarks to herself how his accent is just slightly off. Somehow, it makes Y/N’s grin grows just a bit wider, something that makes Peter’s heart glow. Suddenly the weight of the marigold in his hand becomes extremely noticeable. When he drops, Peter quickly hides it in one of his pockets, praying that the pedals won’t get ruined.

For weeks he’s been trying to figure out how to ask Y/N to homecoming. Ned and Michelle were forced into helping even though Peter barely allowed their opinions to matter. He knew not to do it during school. Y/N doesn’t like people watching her. Peter’s noticed that throughout the years. When all eyes are on the girl he’s been growing a crush on for the past year she seems to shrink under the weight of them, her eyes searching for his so that she can use them as an anchor.

He thought of a poster with one of his famous jokes but decided that he wanted it original. Y/N deserves original. Peter tried and tried to figure something out. To come up with the perfect way to ask her. With every idea, he came up with he also came up with a problem though. Finally, Peter decided on a marigold, one of the sunset orange marigolds you’ve claimed to love on multiple occasions with a little note connected to the stem by a thin brown string.

“No hay problemo, Peter,” she chuckles back, the first semi-genuine laugh she’s had all day. It makes Peter feel victorious as she turns away from him and walks to her desk, waving her hand lazily the whole time. Then he sees the sheets of homework she hasn’t even started yet. His eyes then find Y/N’s planner, but there are only two things written for Monday, meaning that her motivation to even write the information in her planner went away by third period.

“So,” he drones as he plops into Y/N’s bed, “what’s up.” She shakes your head while self-consciously covering her work… or lack thereof.  

“Okay,” she replies with a shrug. “I got a new movie.”

“Cool. That’s cool.” Peter sits up and scoots towards Y/N and her desk. Slyly, he uncovers the unfinished homework.

Y/N’s not embarrassed. This happens every time. Peter always knows no matter how hard she tries to hide it. She should’ve known this time wouldn’t be any different.

“I’m having a hard time getting started,” she whispers lowly, and Peter can hear in her voice just how much she despises the work. Or maybe it’s not the work.

“That’s okay,” he informs quickly, afraid that this plan will go awry before it even begins. “You know, I’ve heard I’m super helpful when it comes to stuff like this and I-I know that it’s not chemistry but I can totally help you with physics it’s not a problem. Really-really.”

She giggles. “Really-really?” Peter rolls his eyes and nods in return, opting to use just that as an answer. “Okay then.” He takes that as his queue to sit next to the girl whose eyes still look hollow in a lonely way. Peter can’t help but stare into them before he starts helping Y/N with the equations.

It doesn’t surprise Peter once she begins easily moving through each problem in less than five minutes each. Usually, it only takes a bit of a push to get her working. A compliment or a tip. Then Y/N speeds through all of her work, not once pausing. She knows that usually, it’s not like that. She’ll work in intervals most of the time. With Peter there though, she finds all the motivation she needs and shoots through her homework. By the time Y/N’s finished, it’s only ten and Peter and her still have time to hang out.

“Thank you,” Y/N tells Peter as she shoves her notebook into her bag. “When do you have to go?” Peter grimaces slightly and messes with one of the books laying on Y/N’s desk. It’s one of the ones she was able to finish in a weekend. A special achievement in her opinion.

“Well actually,” Peter laughs and turns the novel over, reading the back cover silently, “May might not know I’m even gone.”

“Peter,” she reprimands. Without words, Peter adores the way she tilts her head to the side and jokingly glares up at him. But he still sees the way her shoulders tense without reason, the real bags under her eyes that have appeared after Y/N wiped away the rest of her concealer. She has a bit of a cowlick from running her fingers through the y/h/c strands.

“Hey,” Peter lifts up his hands defensively, “duty calls, Y/N. You know that.” The girl sighs and sits further back in her chair. “And- and,” he exclaims, “we can watch that movie together now.”

The hollow look in Y/N’s eyes recedes just a little bit.

____________

Two hours later, the end credits begin rolling down the screen. Peter yawns and turns towards his best friend, expecting her to have passed out already seeing that she seemed so tired. Her eyes are still open though.

She’s lost in thought, the memory of her mother speaking to her in the car running rampant in her mind. Y/N doesn’t even notice that the movie has ended and the credits are rolling. It takes Peter grabbing onto her shoulder to knock her away from her thoughts. The pinprick of tears remains as she turns to the hero, the chestnut hair on his head turning curly.

“Y/N?” he murmurs, his eyes blatantly scanning the look on her face. “You okay?” Y/N smiles as much as she can.

“Yeah sorry,” she shakes her head and blinks hard, hoping that that will dispense the tears.”I just got lost in thought. I’m okay though.” Y/N abruptly stands from her seat and presses her hand into the space bar, pausing the movie. Peter’s hand shoots forward though and he wraps his calloused fingers over hers.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

And with that, she shatters a bit. Y/N wishes her body doesn’t shudder the way it does right then. She wishes that she can’t feel grief literally coursing throughout her entire body like she does right then. Her head drops and she squeezes Peter’s hand. Tears begin falling faster than they can both realize.

“God.” A course, choked laugh runs past her lips as she says that single word. “I’m so sorry Pete, I just- I’m just stressed that’s it.” Peter stands slowly, feeling that if he moves too quick she’ll wrap her emotion up again and store them far inside of herself.

“Hey, hey,” it whispers softly, “it’s okay Y/N. You can tell me.” She shakes her head. This is the first time he’s seen her cry.

“Nonono.” Y/N shakes her head. “It’s nothing, really Peter. Really-really. I’ll be okay tomorrow, I’m just wound up right now.” Peter grabs both of her shoulders, pausing her shuddering if only for a second.

“It’s not nothing.”

“But it is,” she remarks. “I’m just worried about school. There’s no need for you to worry too, I’m just being-” Y/N lifts her hands to her face and covers her eyes. “God,” she repeats, “I’m being so fucking stupid.”

“No, you’re not, Y/N.” Peter pulls her into his arms before she has the chance to step away from him. “Just-just tell me what’s going on so I can help.” Y/N sniffles and shakes her head. Her tangled hair swings from side to side.

“You can’t help me with this, Peter,” she mumbles and falls onto her bed. Although Y/N’s tears have gone away, the hollow look in her eyes returns fully. “I-I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what I want to be, and don’t you give me any of that bs on it’ll all click one day because you already have it all figured out Peter.” Peter furrows his brows and steps towards her.

“No I don’t Y/N,” he assures. “I’m still trying to figure myself out too.”

“No-no you’re not,” she hisses. “You’re a hero Peter. A hero and a prodigy who has Stark and Oscorp industries on their hands and knees. Me? I-I thought writing was where I was going but I can barely even write a full paragraph anymore without feeling numb!” Peter studies the way she clenches her jaw out of frustration. Her eyes are rimmed with hot tears that she refuses to let go. All of the sudden, Peter is imagining all the strain on her soul. All the strings tugging her in every direction.

Outside, the storm arrives and the rain starts falling.

“C’mon.” Peter extends a hand towards her. Y/N narrows her eyes and looks up at the young superhero who is still clad in his red and blue suit.

“What?”

“We’re gonna do something.” Hesitantly, Y/N takes his hand and stands. Before she knows what’s happening, Peter’s dragging her out of her room and into the living room. He knows her house like the back of his hand by now and ti only takes him a minute to guide her to her back door. Outside rain pummels the ground. Y/N doesn’t say anything as he slides open the door and pulls her towards the rain.

“What are we doing?” she wonders curiously, her voice still monotone. Peter thinks that maybe she takes the emotions out so no one can hear it. Not even her.

“That’s up to you.”

Y/N relishes the way the water feels against her skin. The cold is one of the worst and best changes she’s experienced this entire week. One arm wraps around her waist to conserve her warmth as she moves further into the storm. Peter keeps and tight hold on her as he has her step onto the grass.

As she stares up the sky, Y/N’s tears begin falling from her eyes again, only this time freely. She finally realizes why Peter had he come outside. Her tears mix with the rain that falls onto her face and that allows them to go unseen by anyone, even Peter who keeps his eyes locked on the weeping girl. She sobs with no restraint. Y/N feels like she’s imploding, but as everything is being destroyed she can feel the cold rain cleansing her. It rinses away as much pain as possible and the hollowness disappears, though it is not replaced by happiness, but sadness. Y/N finds herself thankful for that though. Thankful for the fact she’s finally feeling something more than frustration and weariness.

Peter watches from where he stands. While he can’t make out her tears he can still see the way her shoulders shake wildly and the deep, lamenting frown plastered to her blotchy red face. He remembers all the people who write about falling in love with this vulnerability. Peter doesn’t love this though. In fact, he hates it. He hates that all he can do is watch as the girl who he is falling for breaks apart in her own arms. He hates the vulnerability filling her up now and he hates the people who call it bravery.

This isn’t Y/N being brave. This is her being alive. This is all of the pain and grief and joy finally being let out. Finally breaking past the beast who tries so hard to numb her. This is Y/N in her messiest, truest form. All of her emotions breaking out in one hurricane of disarray. He loves Y/N in everything she is and will always be, but he hates the illness that takes control of her.

His mind goes back to the marigold in his pocket. His proposal. Peter knows he can’t do it now. Not when she’s finally getting a chance to let all of the dangerous emotions free in waves of tears. She deserves to have this moment to think only of herself.

He’ll have plenty of chances to let Y/N know how much he loves her.

She only gets so many rain storms to let go and cry.

____________

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[dong-hyucks]

dating rocky. | astro

⇴  admin. cj ⇴  masterlists. ⇴  dating series masterlist. 

oH mY GOD

i love park minhyuk, so imma just jump right iN (don’t mINd iF i DO)

so, you guys have known each other f o r e v e r, like, it’s unreal,,, you guys are Ultimate Best Friends™ a.k.a you’ve been together since birth. the amount of weird faces, sounds, and overall oddities cannot be put numbered on a list.

this boy has always been by your side, whether it was you trying out for some sports team, or when your parents were having a fight, he was there.

when you two were kids you would have the cutest nicknames for one another. “minnie! stop knocking down my sand castles!” “no can do, dumplin’, you look funny when you’re mad!” 

okay, so, dumplin’ came from a sweet time when you two were together.

one night, your parents had decided to go out, and they also decided that they didn’t need babysitters this time ... so whoop-de-doo for you guys.

babysitters highkey sucked

and just like that, the rest of the night commenced. 

you and minhyuk played around in the waiting area, while your parents tried to get you both to settle down (it didn’t work). 

apparently you could knock people over when you played tag in a crowded place???? who knew??

anywho, when your families were seated, you guys bounced up and down, talking about insook and myungjun and how they had kissed on the playground earlier that day. 

on the lips

it was all the rave. 

but, minhyuk, he was being really weird. he kept looking at you with pink shade dusted across his cheeks. luckily the lights were dim, so you didn’t notice. 

he kept losing himself in your eyes.

though he was only eight years old, he felt like he’d been in love with you for centuries. he could stare at you all night ... even when you scarfed down your 수제비 like you hadn’t had food in years ... even then

수제비 is a Korean dish with chicken and potato dumplings, so, as minhyuk watching you eat it rapidly, he thought the nickname dumplin’ was fitting

from then on, that’s what he called you.

you on the other hand, liked to sWitCH things uP

if you were annoyed, you called him minnie, because it angered him even more. he hated that name with a passion, and you knew it

if you were feeling down, you’d call him hyuk or minhyuk. when you called him one of those two (or even both), he would know something was up. 

maybe it was an injury from a activity, a bad grade on a test, or maybe even a fight at home. he was there to comfort you. like always.

most of the time though, you called him rocky 

you guys knew that was coming

you came up with that name when the two of you were playing outside in the snow one winter, and he slipped and fell, chipping his tooth on a rock.

all the way to the emergency dentist he cried. he wailed and sobbed about how this would ruin his look forever, and how he would never grow up to be a famous chef because he “couldn’t taste right with a tooth missing”

and, the whole car drive, you hugged him close. you told him that a chef didn’t need a full set of teeth to taste. just a tongue and a mouth.

eventually, he stopped, and was taken to the back of the office, where his mother was not allowed ... but you were. 

through the procedure, he had one hand hanging down, and you tucked it in between both of yours. although he was on laughing gas, when you saw his brow wrinkle, his free hand would squeeze yours and you would return the favor.

when the doctors and the dentists had fixed his face and his mouth, he was a bit loopy.

“(Name), we have to goooo!” “Go where, Hyuk?” “I have—I have a shooting at twelve” “Are they shooting you for Food Network???”

“yES. finally someone understands.” “i know minhyuk, i’m the greatest.”

“marry me, dumplin’?”

“not yet, rocky. not yet.”

on the way back to his house, he fell asleep. you weren’t exactly sure when, or on what street, but your shoulder suddenly got a lot heavier. you looked over and saw minhyuk’s dark head of hair tilted onto its side

you also felt his drool

protecc this boy

please

through your childhood, you and park minhyuk had been best friends, who promised that they would never leave each other. 

you just wished that those promises weren’t broken ...

in high school, the two of you grew apart. minhyuk was cast in a drama with some of his other, new friends,,,,, and you were just,,,, forgotten ...

minhyuk never picked up your calls, and he never returned you texts,,,, you had become a blip in his huge timeline,,,, a speck of dust on the glass that he was staring through. 

and then, he started to fade. he started to fade from your life, from your vision,,, from your memory. his face started to blur, like watercolors on a canvas. his voice began to crackle and turn into static. 

the last time you heard of his presence was at your art show, where you premiered some of your pieces. they were being auctioned off, and minhyuk’s mother had one of the highest bids. 

she got the painting, but, minhyuk was elsewhere. you searched for him all night. 

you couldn’t find him

it was a sign

soon, he was gone. just like that, a lifelong friend had disappeared. and you were almost sure he wasn’t coming back. you tried to stop thinking about him. you tried really hard. but, there was always that little bit of optimist in you.

she missed his smile every day. she missed “dumplin’”

the optimist missed him.

then again. the real you wasn’t an optimist. you knew he wasn’t coming back, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t recognize you. you’d sort of,,, let yourself go ...

your twinkling, child-like grin began to slip away, and a mature scowl took its place. minhyuk definitely wouldn’t have known you if you’d of slapped him right smack in the face. he wouldn’t be able to guess that a smile as beautiful as yours could just disappear.

then, you sunk. into a ... shell, as some people would call it. you became somewhat of a hermit. spending nights alone in your room—only coming out for dinner. it was unhealthy, sure, but to you, it was a way to cope. 

you kept to yourself at school, not wanting to be a bother, and mostly stayed in with teachers during lunch and p.e.

it was sad to watch—you even started growing apart from your parents. they tried to get you to open up, but you had thrown yourself in a cage. but, it was your own doing, and you didn’t want it to be unlocked.

this only made clear that there are many stages of grief.

but, little by little, you became your old self again. the process was long, but one morning, you woke up at three o’clock for an unknown reason. and, knowing that you weren’t going to get any more sleep, you went into the bathroom to shower and get dressed.

you looked out the window and sitting right on the tree branch outside was a plump robin building its nest. it paid you no mind, but the more diligent work it put into the construction, the bigger the grin grew on your face.

and that’s when it hit you

—you smiled. 

rushing over to the mirror, you stared at your reflection with an excited beam on your face. your recovery started with a smile. it all started with a smile.

after your shower, you raced down the stairs and turned on the “hot debut” stage you recorded last night. you figured some music would help you start your day off right.

a well proportioned face appeared on the tv screen and you looked to the right corner to see who the group was.

“astro?” you murmured, “cute.” you continued watching, but one boy really stood out to you. he looked extremely familiar. a childhood friend, or something like that. when he began to rap, you looked to the bottom left corner, to see what his name was.

it came flooding back so fast that your head began to pound. could it be, that you knew an idol?

“rocky—park minhyuk,” you whispered, “that’s right. he was the one who left. after all these years—he remembered.” 

the when their first album came out, you bought it without hesitation. your only wish was to secure a spot and be able to get into a fansign. you needed to see him.

and, a few weeks later, there you were. waiting in line to be one of the first people to meet astro. saying you were ecstatic would be an extreme understatement. 

with a great big grin on your face, you stepped up to meet sanha. he flashed you a bright beam and took your hands in his. the two of you talked about music and dance and how much you both enjoyed being there.

what a cutie

you moseyed along, talking with mj next, eunwoo second, then moonbin and jinjin, then finally—you stopped in front of rocky. you tried your best to keep from letting your tears fall.

“i’m surprised,” you laughed, sniffling a bit, “i thought you wanted to be a chef?” he looked to you and his eyes widened. “but, you always have been a good dancer, rocky.”

“[Y/N],” he breathed, voice wavering, “wow. i’ve missed you so much.” you nodded, not trusting your mouth to speak the right words. instead, you squeezed his hand tightly. he bit his lip to keep from crying, and you did the same. 

even though the salty rivulets would come eventually

“well, we don’t have enough time now, but later—would you like to, oh i don’t know, maybe get an ice cream with me?” his hesitant question blew you away, but you agreed nevertheless.

and, your recovery furthered. just like that robin, you were building a relationship again. this time, though, it would be stronger.

this time, it would last.

you were sure.

and, little did you know, you were right. woo woo !!

after a few months of sporadic (but frequent) “dates,” the two of you finally started dating. it was like a dream come true, and that beautiful smile of yours was seemingly infinite whenever minhyuk was around.

your favorite place to go with him was the ice cream parlor near your school. it was peaceful, and it served really good craft sodas. cherry, orange, lemon, lime, blue raspberry, and grape.

you also liked going to the movies with him and the other boys. minhyuk always wanted to go see action movies, but every once in awhile, he would give in and see a horror movie with you.

he made you promise that you would protect him after. minnie is precious i love him so much but he would never admit it in front of the boys.

minhyuk didn’t really get jealous, but when you were chatting it up with moonbin or sanha was teaching you a new dance move, he did get a bit riled up.

“minnie,” you giggled, teasing him, “you’ll always be my bias. i promise.” his bottom lip got a little smaller, and he snaked an arm around you. “i know, [Y/N]. i just wanted to hear you say it.”

sometimes he’s a cheeky little shit

but loving him is a given.

with cuddling, minhyuk is shy. he’s quiet and doesn’t really do a lot of pda. but, when you guys are hanging around the dorms alone, he’s all over you.

his favorite way to hug you is from behind.

he really likes resting his chin on your shoulder. (and let’s be honest here, so do you.)

but his all time favorite thing to do is sit with you on the couch. his head’s in your lap, and your fingers are carding through his naturally tousled hair. and, a laugh bubbles from your lips as the two of you watch a cheesy rom-com.

some people might call it wasted time, but minhyuk calls it time well spent. then again, he calls any time spent with you well spent. someone please call a funeral service bc i am deceased (and jade you sent me that video and i will never forgive you. MINHYUK IS A PRECIOUS BABY,,, but i digress)

when the two of you fight, it’s normally harmless. but, you do get really worried when he’s in danger of overworking himself.

if there’s a new comeback, you make sure he gets to the dorm and goes to sleep, even if that means going back with him. sometimes, he gets annoyed with the hovering.

“you’re not my mother! stop babying me, [Y/N]!!” his exclamations make you halt, and you purse your lips while scowling. “park minhyuk,” you utter, your voice steely and cold, “i’m not trying to be your mother. i’m trying to make sure you’re well and healthy,”

you continue, “arohas will love you no matter what. but, they won’t love it if you overwork yourself and end up getting hurt. so, if you can’t think of me as a reason to respect your well-being, then think of your fans—think of yourself.” 

this is where the tears fall. still keeping your head high, you begin to feel the liquid pooling and pricking at the back of your eyes.

he turns his gaze to the floor, and walks over to you. “i’m sorry,” he mutters. you shake your head, and pull him into you. 

the hug is pure and chock full of tenderness. though you would much rather see him resting in his bed—him resting in your arms is just as good. you smile into his shoulder.

he backs away, and cups your cheeks in his calloused hands. he leans into you and presses a delicate kiss on your lips.

and, when the two of you break apart, you gaze into his eyes. and, that’s when you see it. the days, the months, the years that the both of you had known each other. it amazed you—you didn’t know that an entire timeline could be visible in one person’s eyes.

you convinced him to go back to the dorms, but he convinced you to stay the night. you guys talked the night away, and eventually the two of you fell asleep.

your head was settled on his chest, while the steady beat of his heart guided you to a peaceful slumber. minhyuk stayed awake for a little while, admiring your slackened features, and soaking in all the quiet minutes that would one day be forever.

you and minhyuk loved each other, it was as simple as that. neither of you felt burdened, because love wasn’t work. it wasn’t a job that had requirements and tasks. it was a pure feeling—one that couldn’t be replaced by anything else. 

minhyuk wished he could gift you the entire galaxy, but for now, all he could give you was his love

—not that you were complaining ...