#i know i take forever to update but it's actually only been like a day

[trickphotography2]

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 21

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 20 | Series Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 21

The Jeep was silent, except for the road noise. Javy adjusted his grip on the wheel, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he stared straight ahead.

Your eyes darted over to him, a smile teasing the corner of your lips as you rubbed your belly. “You alright, Javy?” 

His throat bobbed, eyes flitting to meet yours before returning to the road. “I can’t watch you shit on the table.”

A mortified laugh burst from your mouth as you blushed. “I don’t want you to see that either. I mean, hopefully, it doesn’t happen, but - ”

“Don’t say ‘butt,’” he groaned.

“However,” you corrected, “fingers crossed, Mom will tap you out by the time I get to the pushing stage.”

“Thank god. I love you, and I love baby Seresin-Machado” - he’d placed a hand on your belly during the parent introductions and enjoyed the appreciative looks from the other moms when you corrected them about him being the godfather - “but watching you give birth might put me off sex forever.”

Smiling, you shifted in your seat and shook your head. The first birthing class had been interesting. Most of the time had been spent watching a movie you hadn’t seen since 8th grade - The Miracle of Birth. While mildly traumatizing to watch as a middle schooler, it was worse seeing it now, knowing that you were a few short weeks away from experiencing it. 

But what was even more amusing was watching Javy squirm. He silently gagged, hand over his mouth as he white-knuckled watching the baby crown. “Didn’t you watch it in sex ed or something?”

“No!” he huffed. “We got a banana and condom, and how to make sure that didn’t happen.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, taking out your phone and hitting record. “Hey Jake - you wanted an update on how the classes went. Just here to tell you that we’ve traumatized your best friend.”

“Hangman,” Javy’s voice was solemn, and you flipped the camera toward him. His eyes darted away from the road briefly. “You owe me. This was worse than some of the shi- stuff…” he corrected with a grimace “that we saw during second class Spring Break.”

“Oh god, do I even want to know?” you asked. His answering grin was teasing.

“Your husband was pretty much the worst when we were in the Academy. And flight school. And FRO… actually, he’s just the worst in general. Why’d you marry him again?” 

“He got me pregnant.” 

“Well, he clearly didn’t pay attention in sex ed,” Coyote laughed, and the camera panned back to you. Jake couldn’t help but smile at the sight. You were smiling - really smiling, the corners of your eyes and nose crinkling - as you rolled your eyes. 

“Your daughter demands a baked potato, so we’re heading to dinner. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!” You blew a kiss at the camera before the video stopped. The text had been waiting for him when he got off duty, and he wished it wasn’t too late to call. 

Jake anxiously counted the days until he got home. It felt like a race against time, especially when you hit 35 weeks pregnant in a few days. While you and Dr. Shearer had said that Sloane didn’t seem like she would arrive anytime soon, he could only hope that his daughter listened to him and held on for as long as possible. And instead of hurrying home to your side, he was stuck in Japan again, the carrier taking its slow route back to the US. 

But it wasn’t just a race against time to get home for the birth that was keeping him up at night - Jake felt the gut-wrenching need to get home to you. 

Guilt had eaten at him since seeing you cry on Christmas and worsened with the talk the day after. While he knew the deployment was hard, you’d done a good job hiding how much you struggled. Jake hated himself for not catching it. For not questioning when you were up late when he texted, only relishing the opportunity to talk to you. Not noticing that the smiles you sent him in pictures and videos didn’t seem genuine or asking about the tears he sometimes thought he saw. Allowing himself to be distracted when you changed the subject the few times he tried to get a straight answer out of you. 

“We didn’t even know each other when we got married.”

His ex-wife’s words, casually stated but sharp as knives, taunted him. And, as much as he tried to drown them out, doubt crept in whenever he thought about you hiding your feelings from him. 

Yes, the situation was different. You’d been together for over a year, not just three months, when you got married. And he’d thought about proposing for a while instead of it being a drunken decision. 

But you were pregnant when he finally did it. Jake couldn’t bring himself to regret Sloane - he loved his little girl more than he ever thought was possible for someone he hadn’t met yet - but… would you have said yes if she wasn’t a factor? 

“We’re not going to sweat the short deployments.”

You’d said that before he went to Vegas for two weeks. Right before calling him on his shit… trying to pull away when he realized he’d fallen hard for you. Bracing himself for another relationship ending because of his career. 

Jake never thought you’d cheat, even though that’s where you’d thought his mind went. No, he was thinking about the toll being apart would take on your relationship. The two weeks away seemed like a big deal back then, but now, at the tail end of five months apart, it was almost laughable that he’d worried back then.

Would you have married him if you knew this was your future - alone, pregnant, and halfway across the world from your husband? Hell, would you have let him stay with you in that grocery store parking lot or sent him packing? Talked to him when he approached you in the hangar, phone clutched in hand and taking a picture of the F-35 tail?

Was it what you still wanted? 

Was he what you wanted?

The email from Admiral Tritz hit his inbox sometime overnight, congratulating him on being approved by the selection board to promote to Lieutenant Commander. Just like he’d promised after dropping the bomb that Jake was deploying on short notice. The official list wasn’t released - there was no notice from NAVYADMIN, and that wouldn’t go out until May - but Tritz had said he would be merit-promoted for the next fiscal year. 

Accepting the promotion and pinning on those oak leaves would require reenlistment. After completing his initial service commitment, his current contract had only a year and a half left.

By the time the list was officially published, he would have just one year before never having to put you through another deployment. You wouldn’t have to worry about moving - they wouldn’t give him orders with so little time left - so you wouldn’t have to leave a job you liked. You could buy a house in Lemoore or any place of your choosing.

Sloane could grow up in one place instead of moving around every few years like the two of you had. 

Jake would be there to watch his little girl grow up, not missing months of her life when he deployed. 

Before, accepting the promotion wouldn’t have been a question - he’d always imagined himself serving his 20 years, if not more. The Navy was a way of life, and Jake Seresin felt the most alive sitting in the cockpit. 

But that was before you.

Before he fell in love and realized how hard being apart was. Before discovering he would be a father and only having a few days to be part of the pregnancy. Before realizing what it meant to be away from his wife and kid for long periods. 

In times like this, Jake wished he had someone to talk to about juggling family life and a military career. While a few people in his squadron had kids, he didn’t feel close enough to ask them how they managed, and none of his close friends had them. As much as Mav was a mentor as an aviator, he hadn’t been around to help raise his soon-to-be stepdaughter. The idea of asking his father was laughable and served more as a cautionary tale of what not to do. 

But as Jake changed into his PT gear for a workout after making plans to meet up with Rooster in the wardroom for dinner, it dawned on him that he did have someone he could talk to.

Sorry for the early text, but do you have time to talk this weekend?

Even though it was almost three in the morning in Florida, the message was read immediately, and a text bubble popped up.

Everything okay? 

Shit. He probably thought that something was wrong with you or the baby. Quickly, Jake responded - Yeah, everyone’s fine. I just wanted your input on something. 

I’m free now. I'm just enjoying my coffee before work.

After hesitating, he sat at his desk and called his father-in-law. The call was answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Jake. What’s on your mind?” 

Shifting on the couch, you shrugged, “I don’t know.” Helen didn't say anything. You hated the silence. To stall, you sipped your decaf coffee while thinking through her question. “I just��I had ideas for how our first big deployment would go.”

“Such as?" 

“Not being pregnant,” you smirked. “Sending sexy pictures in care packages, talking when we could… it wouldn’t be a big deal. I’d keep living my life, and he would live his.”

“Your husband doesn’t find you sexy?”

Snorting, you blushed. You recalled him bending you over the bathroom vanity, making you watch as he fucked you in that damn cowboy hat and told you how sexy you were. Jake stroking his cock in the shower when you visited, his gaze drinking you in. His words echoed in your ears - “Mama, I’ve dreamed about this.” 

“He’s…” you cleared your throat, “fine with how I look.” The corner of Helen’s mouth twitched as she raised an eyebrow. Your blush deepened, thinking of all the pictures and videos he’d taken in the hotel room, whispering how they would join his rotation. “My husband is stuck in a floating city in the middle of the ocean with most of the other people being men. Turning him on wasn’t exactly hard. I’m just lucky - ” you cut yourself off. 

“Lucky?” she prompted.

You took a deep breath and leaned forward, placing the coffee on the table. “Jake was married before, and his ex cheated on him when he was deployed. He worried a lot about that and her health stuff their whole marriage. And his dad cheated on his mom all the time - they’re a whole different set of problems,” you added with a roll of your eyes. “So he is huge on not cheating. Which, of course, I would never do. And he would never. But my husband is really attractive.” Pulling out your phone, you flipped through your pictures, smiling as you landed on one of him mowing the lawn shirtless. Helen’s eyes flicked toward it when you turned the phone around. “I see the looks he gets. I trust him, but…”

“You don’t feel attractive.” 

Nodding, tears welled in your eyes, and a spike of irritation shot through you. “I hate this. I’m not this girl - I don’t need male validation to feel good about myself. I don’t need a man for anything! And yet I find myself sitting here, fucking crying because Jake's gone, and I feel like shit, I’m not happy, and I’m really fucking lonely. And I just…” Hot tears fell as you bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a sob. Helen leaned forward and held out a tissue box. Taking one, you dabbed at your eyes and nose. “I thought it’d be easier. I thought I could handle being alone and doing all this because I saw my mom do it.”

“You’re not meeting the standard you set for yourself.” 

“I told Jake I could do this, and I’m... I’m failing at it.” Blowing out a breath, you shook your head. “I-I’m making this harder on him than it has to be. He’s got bigger things to worry about than me falling apart at home.”

“You’re not as important as his job.” 

“No. I mean, yes,” you quickly corrected, twisting the tissue into knots. “Maybe? In a different way.” Helen stayed silent, tilting her chin to invite you to continue. “His job is dangerous, and he loves it. But all it would take is a split second for something to go wrong. For him to get distracted and pull his focus away. A-and…”

“You’re a distraction.” Unable to speak around the lump in your throat, you nodded. “Have you spoken to your husband about how you’re feeling?” 

Sloane’s foot tapped your fingers, and you smiled faintly at the memory of his words on the trip she’d been conceived on. How he’d used your question about if the mission was dangerous as the opening to negotiations to get married. “He’s one of the best. He’d tell me not to worry.” 

“I’ll take that as you haven’t told him?” When you nodded, she set aside her notepad and pencil. “It’s easy for someone we love to tell us not to worry, but it doesn’t make it go away. Did you feel like this before you were pregnant?”

“Not as badly. I worried, but it wasn’t like this.” Helen nodded.

“Different things can contribute to increased anxiety. There are biological factors - hormone and neurochemical changes - that you can be experiencing. We can work with your doctor on medications for those or get you referred to a psychiatrist if you’d prefer specialist care. However, your environment and experiences can also be a contributing factor. Have you heard of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy?” 

“No.”

She grabbed her notebook and flipped to a blank page, writing three words and drawing arrows between them. “CBT looks at the relationship between our thoughts, emotions, and behaviors and how they influence each other. For example, let’s say I’m at work and have a thought that I’m not good at my job. What emotions might that bring up?”

“I don’t know… embarrassment.”

“That’s one. What about others?”

“Frustration, anger… resentment?”

“Maybe fear?” Helen offered, and you nodded. “So these emotions are brewing,” she pointed at ‘emotions’ on the page before moving her pencil to ‘behaviors.’ “How might those emotions show up in my work?”

“Not volunteering for stuff or calling out to avoid the problem.”

“Maybe isolating as well? Quitting?”

“That seems pretty extreme.”

“It does,” she agreed. “But if I continue to have this thought of ‘I’m not good enough’ and these emotions of embarrassment, frustration, anger, and resentment circling in my brain, that thought gets coded in there. It can create what we call a schema or a core belief. Core beliefs are our mental shortcuts in interpreting the world and spin off automatic thoughts. What comes to mind when I use that term?”

“Subconscious thoughts,” you said, putting your hands on your belly when Sloane kicked. “Intrusive ones, maybe?”

“Automatic thoughts are just our brain processing stimuli as we go about our day - they can be good, bad, or neutral depending on the situation. It all depends on how we interpret that thought by running it through our core beliefs. Going back to the example, let’s say I mess up at work. With that core belief of ‘I’m not good enough,’ what kind of automatic thoughts might shoot out?”

“It’s more proof I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“Yup. And it loops in all of those negative emotions we talked about earlier. So what we want to do is challenge those thoughts - push back on them to change our emotions and behaviors. How might I challenge that thought of messing up as more proof that I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“Mistakes happen.”

“‘To err is human’ and all that,” Helen smiled. “I can give myself a break. By thinking of an alternative realistic thought, I’ve pushed back on a cognitive distortion - a mental bias or flawed thinking. Like perfectionism, or ignoring the positive things in favor of focusing on the negative.” Taking a breath, she set her notepad down and leveled you with a look. You tensed. “Would you be okay if I share some things I’ve picked up on in our last few sessions?”

“Sure,” you said hesitantly. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you see yourself as a very independent person.”

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“No,” Helen said quickly. “Independence is a good thing. However, it can cause some… friction… when your desire for autonomy and self-reliance butt up against situations where having a partner or someone to rely on might be beneficial. When you fixate on how you think things should be done, rather than how they are.” You just stared at her for a long moment.

“So you’re saying I’m stubborn.” The words fell from your lips, an accusation you’d heard many times. 

“You have high expectations for yourself. From what we’ve discussed, a lot of responsibility fell on you at a young age. When your dad deployed, it was just you and your mom, and you moved a lot. And that combination instilled a lot of independence in you. It made it easier for you to adapt to new situations and face challenges and made you stronger. And” - she tilted her head again - “you got a front-row seat to see how the military can influence a marriage. That up-close view contributes to your black-and-white thinking - you expect yourself to be that perfect spouse where you are independent and don’t need your husband because otherwise, you’re failing and letting him down by wanting and needing that extra support. You’re not allowing for the grey area, where you may succeed in some aspects but struggle in others. And, at the same time, you’re also measuring yourself against Jake’s ex-wife and allowing that to shape your belief about how to be the best partner for him - one who doesn’t place demands on him or cause additional stress.” 

You blinked at her, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks. “And here I thought I just had control issues,” you said, trying and failing to sound flippant. 

Helen leaned forward and offered you the tissue box. It took you a moment to realize your cheeks were damp again. “Control and perfectionism go hand in hand. Those cognitive distortions won’t be confined only to your marriage but will show up in other aspects of your life. Normally, I wouldn’t tell a client that all at once. But does any of that ring true?” 

Clearing your throat, you nodded. “M-my therapist in college said something kinda similar. But am I… are we,” your hand fell to your stomach again. “Am I setting my daughter up for the same problem? Raising Sloane, knowing that Jake will be gone at times?” 

Helen encouraged you to do something to take care of yourself after the session. Leaving her office, you cried in the car, overwhelmed and happy you’d taken the rest of the day off. The house was too quiet when you got home, and you quickly changed out of your work clothes for something more comfortable. Sitting before the television, you let your eyes blur, thinking what you could do for yourself. Reuben had swung by your office and invited you to the bar after work for drinks and games, but you didn’t want to deal with the bar scene. You always got dirty looks for being there, even when you were nursing a soda. 

The sound of waves shook you from your stupor, and you watched the cruise commercial before pushing off the couch. It had been too long since you’d been to the beach. You couldn’t help but think about the last time you’d stepped foot in the ocean, coral sand underfoot as Jake held you in Japan. In Florida, you’d made sure to go to the beach at least a few times a year, and always before New Year's Eve. It had been a nice way to wrap up the year, looking for small sand dollars in the surf and giving yourself time to reflect.  

Throwing an overnight bag together, you sent a message to the group chat saying you were passing on the night out. Evening traffic held you up as you headed out of town, directions for the nearest beach pulled up. It was a two-hour drive, and you had to stop frequently to use the bathroom, but it felt good to be doing something. Hotels in the area were slightly cheaper in the off-season, and you found a cute bed and breakfast with ocean views. 

When Jake responded to your text from the harbor when you’d grabbed dinner, you knew his question about the wisdom of being so far away from the hospital came from a place of love and concern, but it annoyed you. So when he asked if you were available for a call, you just texted back three words: I need this. Leaving the phone on the bed, you walked to the sliding glass doors, pushed them open, and collapsed into one of the patio chairs. Waves crashed in the bay across the street, and you let your eyes drift closed while listening to the noise from the nearby restaurant. When you went back inside, you had a few missed calls from him and two voice notes. 

“If goin’ to the beach is what you needed, I’m glad you’re there. I just… never mind. I’m gonna play basketball with the guys. I’ll try you again when I’m done.” You felt a pang of hurt and regret at his frustrated tone and the abrupt cut-off. Your thumb hovered over the second note for a long moment before closing your eyes and tapping the screen. Jake’s sigh greeted you, “I love you, darlin’. I miss you. Do whatever you need to to feel better, but don’t cut me out. Please.”

Sniffling, you brushed away the tears on your cheeks and held the phone up to record your voice note. “I’m sorry, babe. I love you, too. I had therapy earlier and feel a little… off. Gonna take a bath, so give me a call when you’re free.”

The hot water felt good as you sank into the tub, your belly exposed to the cool air. The parenting class had suggested a thermometer for the bathtub, and you’d tossed the little otter in to test it, along with some lavender-scented Epsom salts. Dr. Shearer’s nurse had given you the go-ahead for a hot bath - within reason - when you’d called earlier and asked if it was okay. Lowering yourself so the water covered your shoulders, you felt a smile tug at your lips. It felt so good to have a hot bath, even if you did have to promise to keep it short and a cold bottle of water within reach. Closing your eyes, you relaxed in the tub, smiling at the small waves that Sloane made when she shifted. 

When the timer sounded, you groaned and turned it off. The water drained around you, lapping against your breasts, and you hesitated before drying off your hands and reaching for the phone again. Using your toes to close the drain, you held the camera up and stared at yourself on the screen. Your cheeks were flushed, and your hair piled on top of your head, loose strands curling around your face with the heat. Feeling slightly foolish, you sank lower in the water, so it just covered your nipples and snapped a picture. Quickly locking the screen, you got out of the tub and dried off. The towel couldn’t wrap around your front when you tucked it around your chest, your belly-busting through the gap. Feeling ridiculous again, you took another picture before getting dressed.

After turning on the gas fireplace, you climbed into bed to ward off the January chill. The flames flickered across the room as you cuddled with your pregnancy pillow, wishing it was your husband. Grabbing your phone, you pulled up the pictures you’d just taken and studied them. They weren’t… horrible. As much as you felt like a beached whale, they weren’t the worst.

Groaning, you let the phone fall before lifting it again and flipping to your notes app. Helen told you to start tracking your negative thoughts about yourself and how you challenged them so you could talk about them in session. I feel like a beached whale you typed. The cursor blinked as you stared at the words and felt tears burning your eyes. 

I’m letting Jake and Sloane down quickly joined the list. And then they flowed out of you.

I’m weak

I’m going to be the reason Jake leaves the Navy

Jake will resent me for keeping him from doing something he loves

He’s going to get hurt because of me

I’m not going to be a good mom

I’m failing as a wife

Jake isn’t going to find me attractive

I’m not strong enough to do this

Jake is going to leave me

I’m just like his ex

I’m the reason Jake won’t talk to his mom and sister

The screen changed as you typed another thought, switching to a picture of Jake. Sending the call to voicemail, you sat up and swiped at your tear-stained cheeks. 

Another call came in, and you also sent that one to voicemail. Getting out of bed, you hurried to the bathroom to splash water on your face. The screen lit up with a text - Just tell me if you don’t want to talk.

A sob burst from your mouth as you picked up the phone with shaking hands. I just need a minute. Pressing a hand to your mouth, you met your gaze in the mirror and told yourself to stop. You couldn’t make Jake sit through another call when you were falling apart. 

Sixty seconds later, the phone lit up again. Knowing you couldn’t ignore another call, you turned on the sink and grabbed your electric toothbrush, hitting the on button before answering and putting it on speaker. “Darlin’?” 

Turning off the toothbrush, you spit into the sink and splashed more water on your face, making enough noise that Jake would hear you. But just the sound of his voice made your throat tight, and you buried your face in the handtowel, forcing yourself to take deep breaths. “Just a minute,” you said, using the cloth to muffle your voice. After clearing your throat and breathing, you said, “Hey.”

“Hey.” You heard him clear his throat. “Are you mad at me, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, Jake,” you snapped, tears starting to fall again. 

“What?” 

“I just stopped crying, damn it.” And then, to your horror, the phone rang again as he tried to video call you. You denied it. As you scrambled to call him, he video-called again. When you declined it and called him, he picked up and hissed your name.

“I wanna see your goddamn face.”

“No. C-can’t we just t-talk?” 

“No. You’re just gonna fuckin’ lie to me again and tell me that everything’s fine when it’s not. I can’t trust you to tell me the truth unless I’m lookin’ at you.” 

So when the video call came through, you snatched the phone up and glared at your husband sitting at the desk in his stateroom. “Happy?” you demanded.

“Thrilled,” he shot back. “Nothin’ I love more than seein’ my wife in tears again.” 

“You asked for it! We could have just talked on the phone and - ”

“Pretended everything was okay instead of you being honest with me?”

“I’m trying to make this easier for you!”

“Stop making it easy on me!” Jake yelled, green eyes flashing with anger. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ - just stop! Yell at me, make me feel like shit - tell me that I’m the reason you’re depressed and that I abandon you when I’m supposed to be with you. That I’m letting my wife and daughter down by not being there to take care of you when you need me, and you’re already talkin’ to a lawyer about getting a divorce because you can’t do this anymore, and - ”

“Jake - ”

“You’d have been better off not marrying me, and - ”

“Jake - ”

“Sloane is gonna hate me for being a deadbeat who - ”

“Jacob Michael!” You stared at him, wide-eyed with shock at his tirade. Jake’s face flushed, his chest heaving like he’d been running. As you watched, he dropped his head into his hands, fingers tugging on his hair so harshly you wished you were there to stop him. “Stop,” you said softly. 

“I can’t,” he mumbled. 

“Yes, you…” You trailed off when he lifted his head, and you saw his tearful eyes. “Honey, are - are you alright?”

That made him chuckle, and he scrubbed a hand down his face, his wedding band glinting. “You’re supposed to be yelling at me, darlin’.”

“I’m not gonna yell at you.” 

“You should. I deserve it.” 

“Why?” At that, he scoffed and started ticking the reasons off his fingers.

“I knocked you up and then got hit with a deployment a week later. And made you marry me before I left. Then - ”

“You didn’t ‘knock me up,’” you said, putting a protective hand over your belly. That phrasing felt… wrong. “We got pregnant. And then decided to get married a little faster than we initially planned.”

“I still left you.”

“You didn’t want to.” 

“Still makes me a shitty husband and father.” 

“I… I feel like I’m a shitty wife and mom,” you said softly.

“You’re not.”

“You’re not, either.” Taking the moment of silence as an opportunity to leave the bathroom, you settled in a chair by the fire. It threw just enough light to see your face but gave you cover to feel comfortable admitting, “I-I’m afraid you’re gonna leave the Navy because of me.” Jake’s jaw ticked, and he looked away from the camera. Your heart lept into your throat.

“I don’t know how long I can do this, darlin’. But if I separate, it’s gonna be my choice.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, you shook your head. “Jake, I know it’s been hard but - ”

“I got the promotion.” 

“You did? Congra - ”

“I have to sign on for three more years if I accept it.” You stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly. 

“Okay. We can do that.”

“Sweetheart. I don’t know if I can do that. This deployment has been the worst one I’ve been on, and I don’t know if I can do it again. Bein’ away from you was hard enough, but next time, I’ll be away from Sloane, too. Realistically, we’re lookin’ at another five years - minimum - if I do it. That’s five years of maybe missing birthdays, anniversaries, her firsts… I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

“B-but you love flying.”

“I do. But I love my girls more. And I can find different ways of doing it.” He sighed when he saw the flash of your teeth as you chewed your lip. “Say it. And turn on a light so I can see you.” 

Staying put, you closed your eyes, unable to see him when you forced the words out. “I’m afraid you’re gonna blame me if you’re unhappy if you separate. I’m afraid I’m making your life harder like your ex-wife.” 

There was silence for a long moment, then the sound of metal scraping. Opening one eye, you saw Jake pacing, hands back in his hair. You watched, wishing you were there to hold him. Finally, he turned back to the camera and growled, “I want to see you when I say this, darlin’, so turn on a damn light.” Reluctantly, you stood and moved to the bed, flicking on the lamp and pulling one of the arms of your pregnancy pillow over your lap. Leaning on the desk, he stared at you, his expression stern. “If and when I leave the Navy, it’s gonna because I want to. We’ll discuss it, but when I’m done, I’m done.”

“I can do this, Jake. I - ”

“When,” he spoke over you, “I am done, I’m done. I will not lose my family because of the military.”

“You won’t,” you muttered. He ignored you and continued. 

“You, Sloane, and any other kids we have will come before my job. And I will tell you every day until you get it through your thick, beautiful skull - you are my priority, darlin’. Nothin’ else matters but you and our family. Understood?” 

“Ja - ”

“Understood?” 

“Yes, Lieutenant Seresin, sir!” you snapped, giving him a mocking salute. 

“Pause.” 

“What?”

“Pause,” Jake repeated, disappearing from the screen as you resisted the urge to disconnect the call. When he returned, he held up a well-worn paper before reading from it. “Update four - ‘Parties agree not to walk out on arguments. Parties agree to request a ‘pause’ if necessary and will finish the discussion when cooler heads prevail.’ You wrote it, darlin’, so I’m calling a pause.” 

“Fine,” you huffed, blinking back tears at the reappearance of the contract. His having it with him made your heart skip a beat. You watched him read over it again before shaking his head.

“We never updated this. We need to.” 

“It’s stupid.” His eyes shot to yours, and he shook his head.

“It’s not. I take this as seriously as our vows, sweetheart. But we need to figure out what anniversary we’re gonna update it on.” 

“You only want one anniversary.”

“But you want two - a sentimental one and our wedding anniversary. So what’s it gonna be? When are we gonna update this instead of doing” - he paused to look at the paper again - “‘ad hoc meetings to discuss clauses and conditions as they arise’?” A smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head. 

“Pretty sure it says ‘annual dating contract’ at the top, Seresin. So that would put it up for review in a few months.” 

“Gonna have to rename it to ‘annual marriage contract,’ Seresin,” he shot back.

“Gonna add it to your list of updates you want?” 

“Yup. Right up there with you sending me more dirty pictures.” You flushed, looking away from the camera. “Mrs. Seresin,” Jake said, his tone teasing. “You have something to tell me?” 

Jake got you to send the two pictures you’d taken earlier in the night through cajoling and pleading. And when he’d started talking about how sexy you were in them, you tried to shut it down without success, which kicked off the fight again, your husband begging you to understand how attractive he found you. 

It was lucky that Rooster and Fritz were on liberty because the call lasted hours. You plugged in your phone when the battery almost died, set it down when it overheated, and your arm tired of holding it up. A few more pauses were called, and you couldn’t help but chuckle when Jake pointed out that you were both going all out for your third official fight of the relationship. 

And, as hard as it was to hear, it was good that you were fighting. Sure, your husband calling you a “creepy Stepford wife version of the woman I fell in love with” wasn’t exactly great. Still, he didn’t really appreciate being called “an arrogant asshole who would prefer to martyr yourself instead of listening to your fucking wife and letting her decide what she can and can’t take.” But for the first time since finding out he was deploying, it felt like you and Jake were being honest with one another about how you felt. About how hard navigating the pregnancy, deployment, and first months of your marriage had been for both of you. 

At some point, you fell asleep during a pause. When you woke the following day, you scrambled to grab your phone and was greeted with a message from Jake.

I love you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I can’t wait to get home and show you exactly how much I love you and our daughter. Only 6 more weeks, darling. 

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

Author's Note: Did I have to write extensively about CBT? Probably not, but it's my favorite modality to use. It was kind of fun writing Jake and Darlin' fighting because they don't do it that often, but was definitely needed to clear the air. It was fun going back through some of their highlights from previous chapters. Not to mention Jake realizing that he has a whole other family that he can lean on now, and calling his father-in-law for advice.

And Javy continues to be the best godfather.

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please fill out my tag form here.

Tag list:

@memeorydotcom

@alldaysdreamers

@kmc1989

@djs8891

@caitsymichelle13

@dempy

@midnightmagpiemama

@lovelyladymayyy

@caidi-paris

@a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby

@bellaireland1981

@lethargicluv

@tenderclio

@lucypaulette

@abaker74

@trhett21

@schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker

@misshoneypaper

@eternallyvenus

@mavrellover91

@chloeforde

@thatbitcily

@rest-of-brazilian-wax

@percysaidnever

@harperdoodle

@hardballoonlove

@maeleeme

@emma8895eb

@xoxabs88xox

@queenslandlover-93

@memoriesat30

@queerqueenlynn

@capswife

@regsg18

@boisewaffles

@fudge13

@starkleila

@shanimallina87

@justdamnpeachy

@milegonzalez96

@capoteera

@mrsevans90

@toomanytocountsposts

@spidey-d00d

@avengersfan25

@atarmychick007

@seitmai

@yuckosworld

@tayloreliza-25

@dontletthemtakeyoualive

@redbarn1995

@talicat713

@christinonna

@unattainablesillygoose

@teamjacob143

@calirindo

@kellyls04

@cevans-winchester

@marvelbros-oneshots

@ailoda-blog

@lunatygerqueen

@penguin876

@Hookslove1592

@jbennsquared

@vinyardmauro

@Bartonsparrow25

@laniec03

@love-you-inside-n-out

@silentlysufering98

@alwayshave-faith

@shortnsweet777

[aachria]

Who saw this coming raise your hand.

Imagine finally escaping Impel Down and reaching Marineford then getting stiffed on your chapter lmao couldn't be me. Except it is me gang I'm sorry but I just spent 12 hours straight working on a project, following 12 hours straight yesterday working on a project, following the absolute shitshow that has been the rest of the week and also last week.

I didn't know eyebags having eyebags was an actual thing but damn am I out here proving nature wrong. HAH I am so stressed it's making my hair prematurely grey. Again. I always knew I'd be a silverfox at 20, take that Ed. I don't even have compensation art this time because Literally When Would I Have Had The Time.

(Also hiiiiiiiiiiiii Tumblr missed u bbg sorry I'm only here to deliver bad news nowadays xoxo)

So we're skipping another update and the world is a cold dark nightmare, but hey there's also love everywhere if you aren't a fucking coward and go look for it. Do it. Pussy. Or go reread the fic, you fucking maniacs seem to love doing that shit. IN THREE DAYS. Sociopaths, the lot of you ♥

SSSBMTY will be back on the 16th and we'll finally get into Marineford proper, so stay tuned for Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Eight: Like You've Never Lost A War!

Stay sexy forever and keep your hope ♥♥♥

[lady-pug]

The Ballad of Green Snakes and Honey Badgers

Prologue

Summary: When your former friend and current Triwizard champion Aemond Targaryen sends you a note asking you to meet him after years having last spoken to each other, you are left wondering what he could possibly want. So when, to your surprise, he asks you to be his date to the Yule Ball, you make a decision that will either mend your broken friendship with the Slytherin boy or irreparably shatter it forever.

Pairing: Slytherin!Aemond Targaryen x Hufflepuff!Tully!Reader

Word count: 2,1k

Warnings: none

Notes: Hello hello, dearest readers! How have you all been? 

I offer you the prologue to a new story I am now incredibly excited to write. The idea for this came from the lovely @peachysunrize, whom I admire very much and love her works (I’ve actually been saving Tangerine Dreams for when I have enough free time to binge read it, ‘cause I know once I start I won’t be able to stop), after Mr. Ewan Mitchell was spotted serving cunt looks at the British GQ’s Men of The Year last night. It was supposed to be a one-shot howeeeeever I ended up getting a little carried away and dicided to go for a slightly longer story (so I’m so so sorry, Aemond actually wearing the infamous outfit at the Yule Ball won’t show up for a few chapters, please forgive me).

Just to explain a few details of this story: Hogwarts is in Westeros, located in the Crownlands near the border between these lands, the Reach, the Riverlands and the Stormlands. Volaena Academy of Magic is situated in Volantis, houses female students from Volantis, Pentos and Lys (equivalent to Beauxbatons) and Green Grass Institute is situated in Braavos, houses male students, mainly Dothraki, from Braavos, Pentos and Tyrosh (equivalent to Durmstrang)

I never thought I’d write a Hogwarts!AU but here we are! Although the HP/WW universe was a very important part of my childhood, I haven’t consumed any content related to it in a very long time (except for random memes on ig I often trade with a friend) because that woman (you know which one) pisses me the fuck off. But since no one will be profiting from me writing this (at least I don’t think so), and I still quite like the universe even if my love for it got diminished somewhat, I decided to give it a try. I won’t lie, I had fun!

I’d just like to warn that the next update for this series will take a little while, as I have quite a lot of work to get done (the semester is ending and Uni is kicking me in the butt once more, what’s new) and I’d like to finish writing a new chapter of Written Between the Lines, the other Aemond series I have on going, first.

Although Reader is a Tully I didn’t write her with a specific appearance in mind, and the same goes for Kermit Tully, so it is up to you to imagine what she looks like. I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it! And thank you so much @peachysunrize for coming up with the idea in the first place! If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

When you woke up on that rainy morning, you had expected it to be just another normal Tuesday, only barely over a week into the school year. The day had started out like any other: you had met with Oscar for breakfast at the Great Hall, being joined shortly after by Kermit and Davos, and avoided at all costs glancing in Cregan’s general direction. Then you had headed for your classes of the day, being paired with Doreah, a lyseni girl from Volaena, for your year-long Herbology project. 

While Doreah seemed nice, and you believed you would find a friend in her still, it was moments like this when you found yourself missing Helaena the most. You had promised to write to one another, of course, with you assuring you’d keep her updated in all the latest gossip around Hogwarts, yet it just wasn’t the same. You had become so used to seeing her at the farthest corner of the Ravenclaw table, waiting for you at supper, or sneaking out of the Hufflepuff common room together and into the kitchens to arrange snacks for your late night study sessions that you didn’t realize how much you’d miss this small things until she was actually gone, only just starting her career as a Magientomologist. Still, all you had to do was survive one more year until you could take your N.E.W.T.s and leave this place to search for a career of your own, and perhaps achieve your dream of sharing a flat with your best friend.

It was only after you left your Defense Against the Dark Arts class, having been squished between two quite large dothraki students from Green Grass, that you noticed something was different. A small piece of parchment was sticking out from inside your book, yet you didn’t remember putting it there; while you often used random papers as bookmarkers, it didn’t seem to be the case here, as the pages holding the parchment were ones you did not remember having ever read. As you turned the paper around you realized it was not just some paper, it was in fact a note, and you wondered how someone managed to place it inside your book, as you hadn’t left it unattended at all. But as you read the words, it would soon become clear to you.

Meet me at the library after dinner ~ A. T. 

The note carried a neat, flourished handwriting, written in expensive green ink. And yet, as your eyes skimmed over the words once more your heart started beating faster and faster, the flow of blood seemingly thundering on the inside of your eardrums. A. T., the person had signed. 

Aemond Targaryen.

What could he possibly want with you? Him, of all people? After all these years? Why did he want to speak to you now? It made sense then, how the note had appeared in your book without you realizing it; Aemond was quite good at Transfiguration, one of the top students even (but was there anything he wasn’t good at?), he excelled in it so for him to conjure a note inside your book was a piece of cake. But that didn’t explain what he wanted.

Sighing, you crumpled the paper in your hand, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pondered upon a decision you were most likely to regret.

There was only one way to find out.

You were quiet during supper, deep in thought as you poked at your food. Kermit and Davos both believed it had to do with the fact that Cregan and Alysanne were sitting right in front of you at the Gryffindor table, choosing then to sit on the bench across the table from you to try and block your view from the happy couple. But only Oscar knew the real reason for your silent demeanor.

Even though Kermit was your twin, you often felt closer to your younger brother, especially after you and Kermit got sorted to different houses on your first year, him being a Gryffindor through and through and you becoming the true embodiment of a Hufflepuff, and Oscar being selected for the same house as yours a year later. In truth, Oscar just understood you better and the other way around was also true, so you ended up becoming one another's confidants, telling each other everything and anything. So once you got back to the common room you had immediately spilled the beans about the mysterious note you had received.

He had begged you not to go. He just knew that whatever Aemond wanted couldn’t possibly be good. Not after everything. But you were curious, and although he would never admit to it, his curiosity on the back burner in face of his concern for you, so was he. So he agreed to your plan of simply listening to what Aemond had to say and leaving. 

Or that would have been the plan, had what Aemond asked not left you completely flabbergasted.

Arriving at the library, now almost completely void of students, save for one or two first year nerds, you noticed Aemond was already there, punctual as ever.

“You came.” he seemed surprised as he raised from his chair, the book he had been absentmindedly flipping through forgotten over the hardwood table.

You shrugged, not willing to let him see how affected you were by his presence.

“Let’s hear it then.” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to appear more confident than you felt.

“What?” 

“You called me here for a reason, right? What do you want?”

“Can I not just wish to see an old friend?” it was his turn to shrug.

You scoffed, gritting your teeth as you glanced away from him. Old friend my ass, you thought. You weren’t friends. Not anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time.

“Right.” he must have noticed something in your expression, for he dropped the innocent act “I need your help.”

What could he possibly need your help with?

“Be my date for the Yule Ball.”

What?

“What, why?” you were honestly dumbfounded by his suggestion, because that was what it was; it wasn’t a question, it was closer to a demand. And how dare he demand something from you?

“It is mandatory for the champions to dance at the Ball. And for that they need a partner.”

That’s right, Aemond had been selected as the champion to represent Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament against Green Grass and Volaena. The professors had explained what that entailed, and how dangerous it could be, and for a fleeting moment, your heart twinged in worry over him, before it was snuffed out and replaced by the usual cold indifference you felt towards him. Furthermore, they had let all students know that a special ball would be held at Christmas, and that all three champions were required not only to attend but to dance as well.

“I know that.” you huffed, feeling a little offended “I mean why me?”

His stare turned quizzical, as if he couldn’t quite possibly understand what you were implying.

“Why not take your girlfriend?” you asked, confused “I mean, she may have graduated already, but professor Mellos said we could bring dates from outside the school.”

He glanced away from you, his expression turning dark for a split second, before returning his gaze to you.

“Alys and I broke up over summer.” he said with a nonchalance you suspected to be fake.

You wanted to ask, you were desperate to know why, but you had to remind yourself it was none of your business. His life was none of your business and it was better that way.

“Why not some other girl then? They seem to line up for your attention nowadays. Floris has always had a thing for you.”

Aemond was already considered a pretty boy even for normal standards, always having one admirer or another. It lessened a bit after he started dating Alys, a sixth year student, in his fourth year in school, but you knew for a fact people still pinned after him in silence. But after he was named Hogwarts’ triwizard champion, a lot of girls and even some guys flocked around him, vying for his undivided attention. You knew most of them would die for a chance to be his date at the Ball, to be his even if only for one night.

“It would give them the false hope that something more could happen when it won’t.” he tipped his chin, staring at you from under his lashes, and something in the way he was looking at you was deeply unsettling “At least we know where we stand with one another.”

Ouch.

“Why would I ever agree to go with you?”

“Well you certainly aren’t going with Stark, that’s for sure.” the corner of his lip twitch in the tiniest of smirks.

A pang of shame assaulted your heart, heat spreading in your chest and settling in your cheeks.

“How do you know about that?” your voice faltered, small and almost afraid. 

His face fell, then, as if he didn’t expect this reaction from you.

“Everyone knows about it.” 

Humiliation burned in your chest, the sting of tears steadily brimming in your eyes forcing you to glance away from him to stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. Great, now the whole school (and perhaps even the other two guest schools) knew how your boyfriend of four, almost five years had dumped you and practically immediately after started dating your cooler, prettier, hotter cousin. He couldn’t even be bothered to show his face, he had broken up with you through a letter, a majestic white owl bringing the news one summer morning.           

“No.” you sniffled, daring yourself not to cry, and turning away from him, ready to leave and forget this conversation ever happened.

“Wait!” he grabbed your arm, halting your movements. His face was soft when you glanced back at him, something akin to guilt clouding his own features “Please. Just- please.”

That was new. For as long as you had known him, you knew one thing was certain: Aemond Targaryen didn’t beg. For him to stoop this low, at least for his standards, must mean he was indeed desperate.

“What’s in it for me?” you asked in turn.

He pondered for a moment, a surprised look on his face, as if he didn’t expect to get this far into the conversation.

“You’ll get to make Stark jealous?” he offered, and you chuckled mirthlessly in response.

“I don’t want to make him jealous.” and you couldn’t even if you tried, not in comparison to Alysanne of all people “I just want to move on from him.”

“Then you’ll get to show him just that. That you have moved on from him and are already seeing new people.”

His reasoning made sense and you were intrigued, sure, especially considering you weren’t totally over Cregan just yet. But it definitely wasn’t worth the hassle.

“And I’ll help you study for your History of Magic N.E.W.T!” he was quick to add.

Now that was a really tempting offer. History of Magic was one of the subjects you struggled with the most, having a really hard time memorizing all the dates and events, ever since your very first year. And you knew he was well versed in history; he studied the subject even when not required, just for fun. To have someone like him help you study would definitely help you not fail the test.

“Okay.” you sighed out between, biting your tongue “I’ll be your date to the Yule Ball.”

His face lit up then, almost bouncing in his heels from excitement, before feigning indifference.

“Good.” he nodded to himself “We’ll have to spend more time together until then.”

“I didn’t agree to that!” you squealed, the thought of spending any more time than necessary with him making you uneasy.

“We need to be convincing. Otherwise Stark will see right through it.”

He was right. Of course he was right.

“Fine then. When do we start?”

He smiled brightly then, and for a moment you saw that young boy he once was, the one who held your hand on the first train ride to school all those years ago.

“I’ll find you for breakfast tomorrow then and we can go to Potions together. After lunch we can start revising History. How does that sound?”

It could be worse.

“Alright by me, I guess.” 

Aemond grinned cheekily, and you knew then that you were screwed. 

“It’s a date then.” he sauntered away, but not before throwing you a quick wink to match his smirk.

Oscar was going to kill you.

[marie-swriting]

Everything Was Okay - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Summary : You and Bradley are in love, but overnight, he stops reaching out.

Warnings : angst, ghosting, sad ending, mention of Goose's death, feeling like you're not enough, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 2.1k

French version

Song inspiration : Forever And Always (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

In your bed, you’re straddling Bradley’s lap while you’re talking about your favorite book, Frankenstein, and its author and making big gestures to emphasise your words. You’re completely focused on your improvised essay and Bradley is focused on the passion with which you’re speaking. He looks at you with starry eyes while he tries to follow your train of thoughts as best as he can. He doesn’t stop you, allowing you to get out everything you have in mind. A smile makes its way to his face, realising how his affection for you turns a bit more into love. 

After rambling for about an hour, you breathe normally again, recovering from your passion rush.

“Long story short, you absolutely have to read this book,” you conclude, beaming brightly. “I can’t believe you’ve never read it.”

“Everybody knows the story, I don’t see the point of doing it,” Bradley replies, shrugging and you dramatically roll your eyes.

“See, that is the precise reason everybody misinterprets Frankenstein. It’s exactly why people think Frankenstein refers to the creature when it’s actually-”

“The scientist, I know. See, I listen to you.”

“And weirdly enough when I ask you to put the toilet seat down, you don’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, faking an innocent expression.

“Yeah, let’s say that,” you add, quickly tickling him.

In one move, Bradley takes your hands and gives you a defiant stare before throwing you over and taking the upper hand. You laugh while Bradley starts tickling you. By some miracle, you manage to grab the pillow next to your head and hit him with it. He pretends to fall by your side, playing dead. Once you’ve let your guard down, he takes you in his arms and kisses you passionately.

“I love you,” Bradley suddenly confesses.

“I love you, too.”

“You have no idea how happy I am with you. I’m yours forever and always.”

Overwhelmed by this new milestone in your relationship, you put your hands on both sides of his face before pressing your lips on his again.

A loving smile makes its way on your face as you think back to the first time you said “I love you” to Bradley while staring at your copy of Frankenstein. You sit down on your couch and put a blanket over your legs. Before starting your reading, you take your phone and check your notifications. Bradley has been in deployment for three months, he’s coming back in two weeks and you haven’t had any update from him for two days now. You know he can have busy days thus you don’t worry too much but you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t give anything to have a message from him. You open your conversation and take a picture of your book before sending it to him with a quick text. 

Text from you to Bradley, 9:50 P.M.:

Daily reminder you have to read it or we’ll break up ❤️

You put your phone next to you and peruse for the umpteenth times your favorite novel.

Day six.

You haven’t heard from him for six days. Yet, Bradley has read your texts. Sometimes he reads them and only replies a few hours later but in this case, it’s not normal. You don’t understand what’s happening. One day Bradley did not text you back for three days though it was only one time and he felt guilty about it. Of course, you had promised him you weren’t mad at him, knowing it wasn’t his fault. You understand his work keeps him busy. However, right now, your guts can’t stop whispering in your ears something is wrong. Bradley should have found a way to talk to you by now. 

You try not to imagine the worst case scenarios and search for a rational explanation. In any case, Bradley will call you tomorrow. Last time you talked, he told you which day he’d be free so, in any case, you’ll hear from him tomorrow. No need to panic... right?

He still hasn’t called.

He told you he’d call around 7:00 P.M. and it’s almost nine and still nothing. Maybe something came up? Anxious, you put on a random tv show as you wait for his call. Every ten seconds, you check your phone to make sure you haven’t missed his call or a text saying he’d ring you later. But nothing. Radio silence. In spite of yourself, you start biting your nails, something you only do when you’re too stressed. Your eyes have stopped watching the tv for twenty minutes and they’re now staring at your phone as if they could magically make a call from Bradley appear. You wait for so long that you end up falling asleep on your couch when the clock is about to strike 2:00 A.M..

You still don’t have any news from him, consequently you start worrying more and more. Maybe he’s been hurt and considering you’re only his girlfriend you didn’t get a call? You sent a text to Phoenix and she told you Bradley had to eject while training, though nothing bad happened to him hence there’s no reason why he hasn’t communicated with you. Natasha tried to reassure you by saying maybe he has some problem with his phone which would explain his silence. Though, you both know there’s something fishy going on.

His silence isn’t trivial. Something is up. You think back to the last time you saw each other and everything seems normal. You had spent the night at his place, enjoying as much as you could your boyfriend before he had to leave. You hadn’t gone out, you had only watched a movie before going to bed, well you had actually talked for a few hours before sleeping. The next morning, in spite of the fatigue, Bradley hadn’t regretted it, he had been glad he had made the most of the last moments he had with you. Therefore, everything was okay. You had done nothing wrong or at least, you don’t think you had. Was it your last call with Bradley? It hadn’t been a long one, he was tired of his day. He had only told you his assignment - at least, the nonclassified details - and then, you had explained what you had been up to. Bradley had ended up falling asleep on the phone. You had smiled as you had heard his light snores. You had hung up then sent a ‘goodnight, I love you ❤️’ text before doing just like him. This sudden change in character can’t be caused by your last call either. Everything was okay. Was it one of your last texts then? You open the conversation and read some of them. Nothing out of the ordinary, some ‘I love you’s here and there, some random discussions, others more serious ones but nothing too bad. You really don’t get it. Everything is supposed to be okay so why is he playing dead?

The more the time goes by, the more a thought makes its way to your mind: what if everything was over? What if Bradley wanted to break up? It would explain his sudden silence. If you’re right, you don’t know what you did wrong. You overanalyze it time and time again, you were happy with him just like you thought he was with you; you are about to celebrate your one year anniversary, therefore why would he end it now? It made no sense. 

You try not to be pessimistic, yet as the silence grows louder, the more complicated it is. You feel so low that you can’t even work properly. You’re making a lot of mistakes at the café, mistakes you used to do when you had begun five years ago. And the second you’re home, it’s no better. You only eat what you need, not being too hungry and you spend your nights in your bed, rereading your numerous texts, searching for how you could end up this way. How could you go from ‘I’m yours forever and always’ to having no news at all.

Two weeks have gone by since the beginning of Bradley's silence vow consequently you know he has come back and you’re set on confronting him; the sadness having officially turned into anger. He can’t just ignore you that way, promising the earth and then overnight not talking to you anymore. You want explanations and you will get them.

However, you don’t even have the time to leave your house when someone knocks on your door and the second you open it, you find Bradley with a shameful expression on his face. At least, he’s not proud of what he’s done, it’s already a start.

“Did you remember you had a girlfriend?” you sharply ask and he looks down.

“Can I come in?”

“Depends, are you going to let me do all the talking or are you gonna answer?”

“I’m gonna answer,” he says, looking up.

Despite your annoyance, you step aside and allow him to come into your house. Bradley walks to your living room while you follow him, preparing yourself for what he’s about to say.

“I know I owe you some explanations,” Bradley starts, scratching his neck.

“You totally do. You stopped replying to me, I was worried! I called Natasha and she told me that besides the time you had to eject and you didn’t get injured, nothing happened to you. So tell me!” you retort, angry and hurt. “Was it something I did? Did I say something that hurt you? Because, clearly, you’re avoiding me and I have no idea why. For me, everything was okay between us before you left, so tell me. If you wanna break up, fine, but tell me.”

“I… we should stop,” he states.

“Why? What changed?”

“It’s better that way.”

“You gotta do better than this. I just spent two awful weeks because of your cowardice.”

“You deserve better,” Bradley explains after taking a deep breath, “someone who doesn’t always have to leave for work and who isn’t risking his life.”

“And who do you think you are to take this decision for me? I knew what I was getting myself into when I decided to date you. I know damn well you have to be away for a long period of time, that your job is dangerous and I’m not gonna lie, I miss you and I fret every day, and yet I still wanna be with you,” you reply, pointing your finger at him. “I made the choice to stay with you because I love you. You don’t have the right to decide we should stop because of things I accepted.”

“You’re saying this now but in the long run, you’ll change your mind.”

“And how do you know? You don’t even want to try to last longer than a year with me.”

“You can’t understand,” he insists, avoiding your gaze for a second.

“I understand you’re a coward. You create a problem on your own and to solve it you want to break up. You know what? You won. It’s over between us,” you announce, angry tears about to fall. “And not because of your work, but because you ruined everything. I have been miserable for two weeks, worrying myself sick, questioning myself, thinking I wasn’t enough and all of this so you could come back swanning in just to toss me aside like an old sock. And I won’t stand for it. Get out,” you add, coldly, showing him the exit. “Get out of my house, Bradley. I don’t wanna see you ever again.”

Heart tightening in his chest, Bradley nods and turns around without looking back, without seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks, though he hears your sob the second he closes the door. You stare at it for a few minutes, replaying the scene in your head. You thought you’d get answers, you only got more confused. You sit down on your couch, tears still making their ways on your face. 

Bradley’s face is in a similar state. He tries wiping his tears in vain. He gets in his Bronco, breathing deeply several times before driving away. He keeps telling himself he did the right thing, he shouldn’t regret it, yet his heartache only grows. He doesn’t like the way he ended things with you, he should have done better, however he didn’t have the strength to gather his courage and tell you things directly. Bradley knows he’ll never find someone like you, but he thinks it’s better that way. He thought he was ready for a serious relationship, that the ghost of his parents had left him, yet he only had to eject once and to stay at the hospital for observation for him to imagine a future where you two would have the same fate as his parents and he can’t handle it. He’d rather suffer by cowardly leaving you behind instead of leaving you to grieve his death until the end of your life.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

[o-sachi]

Dress to Impress Headcanons Pt. 1 - for WinBre Week!

ᯓ what's it like to play the roblox game dress to impress with the Wind Breaker characters? ᯓ characters; sakura haruka, suo hayato, nirei akihiko, sugishita kyotaro, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma (more characs in the next part hopefully) ᯓ tags; crack, some profanity lol, gn reader, no y/n, can be platonic/romantic

[🐟]: for day 8 - side missions prompt! (because dti is a side mission) @windbreakerweek

Sakura Haruka

"How the fuck do I win..."

It will take forever to convince him to play because apparently 'there is no way he's playing dress-up that's made for children' but will fold as soon as you tell him he's just saying that because he hates you.

He keeps forgetting where certain items are and keeps going in circles around the place. That's why he thinks 5 minutes isn't enough.

"Where the fuck are the heels with the pretty pink bows? Man." / "You're going in circles, y'know?" / "Not my fault this shit's a maze."

Pretty standard outfits. Like they're not terrible, but they're not impressive enough to get 4 or 5 stars.

He's more of a simplicity-is-beauty type of guy so that also reflects in the kind of outfits that he makes. But the kids in the server are not having it.

"What does 'ate and served' mean?"

SO SALTY WHEN HE LOSES. But he'll brush it off and pretend that he's cool about it because he is not about to let anyone know he cares about some stupid dress-up game.

Suo Hayato

"Oh, look. I got first place again~"

He was easier to convince. But only if you knew how good he'd be, you wouldn't have asked him to play with you. Why? 'Cuz your morale is plummeting by the second.

He doesn't even need to try. Suo just lets his natural sense of style bleed into the way he plays the game AND HE WINS. He's pretty and so are his outfits.

Suo knows that it's mostly kids playing the game. So when he figures out there are younger people on the server, he'll rate them pretty high to put a smile on their face. (HE'S SO SWEET).

"Suo... it didn't even follow the theme." / "But it's quite nice, don't you think?"

You notice that you rank faster when you duo with him. You've been exploiting this little feature.

"We make a pretty good team, don't we?" / "Huh? Oh, yeah. Haha totally..."

Nirei Akihiko

"OH, this one's good... No, but this one's really good too..."

Nirei is everyone's hypeman: yours, the fashion mavens', the ten year olds who can't follow the theme—literally everyone.

He actually gets better so quickly by observing the outfits of those who win a lot. Like dude is analyzing a whole ass Roblox game. Not that it's intentional—more like it's in his nature.

He falls deep into the DTI rabbit hole. You know because he eagerly waits for updates and hunts for codes on the internet.

"Heyyyy, guess who learned a new code hm?"

His face lights up when you ask him to play... as if he doesn't ask you to play every chance he gets already...

DTI actually becomes his door leading to his descent into the world of Roblox. Seriously, he starts playing more Roblox because you started him with DTI. He also starts asking the other Furin guys to play too.

"Guys, let's do an obby next." / "A what?" / "An obby." / "Again, A WHAT?"

Sugishita Kyotaro

"... I swear I can do better than this..."

This man... this man was even harder to convince compared to Sakura. In fact, you almost gave up. Soooo... you convinced Ume instead (which was easier) and in turn, that forced Sugishita to try it out.

Didn't even ask how it works. He's just reading the text that pops up and goes with the flow.

I'm sorry but... he has the blandest style out of everyone in the main Furin group. Like, he doesn't even try to win AT ALL. But, y'know, A for effort!

"Oh... I have to vote for them?" / "Well, yeah... actually no, just give me 5 stars, okay?"

He plays DTI for a grand total of 3 times, all of which were because Ume asked him to play with the rest of the guys.

He's not much of a gamer to begin with... really, he'd much rather watch you play DTI and see your dramatic reactions to whatever's happening.

Umemiya Hajime

"HAHAHA What's with these silly poses?"

It's like a switch flips in him when he boots up the game and the DTI background song starts playing. He looks waaaaay too happy playing it.

He only started playing because all the hype surrounding it. Ume just wants to be part of the conversation and that's why he tried it out.

Talks way too much in the chat. Usually people just use it to provide more context for their outfits, but Ume actually makes conversation with players there. It's pretty funny to see.

"Look. So many people added me." / "Huh... well ain't that a surprise..."

He almost threw the Ipad out of excitement when he saw that the theme was gardening. He said he had to win or he'd literally die.

A pose 28 spammer, obviously.

"Aw, my game started lagging." / "It's 'cuz you keep spamming poses too fast." / "Dang it."

Hiragi Toma

"I'm not that good at it... okay, maybe just a bit."

He's an old man so bear with him when he tells you that he doesn't even know what a 'Roblox' is. He thought it was a vape flavor by the way.

"So... I have to dress-up and make people vote highly for me?" / "Yeah, it's called Dress to Impress for a reason." / "Oh, yeah. Fair."

He barely tries, but somehow he's kinda good at it? He's not insanely amazing at putting together outfits... but for a guy who's not trying that hard—he's doing pretty well for himself.

But he'll be too embarrassed to admit it. Hiragi would click his tongue and tell you to knock it off once you start complimenting his DTI skills.

He's a bit lost with the Gen Z/Gen Alpha terms, but he's trying to learn—slowly but surely like a little baby lamb learning how to walk.

Will rate you 5 stars no matter what. Everyone else is getting 1 star. Hiragi doesn't care.

"I didn't know you could hit poses here?" / "Yeah, look at this one." / "What the fuck kinda pose is that? Who's doing that on the runway? Bffr." / "Did you just—" / "Told you I'm learning things."

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[bibookdemon]

(MDNI WITH THIS POST!!!)

Thinking of cumplane

Please feel free to message me about cumplane AAAA

Need more cumplane mooties

Also if you're afraid to message first, feel free to comment and I'll message you first uwu

A thought for a fic below the cut:

Thinking of a fic where SQH and SY haven't met yet

Wherein SQH is a horny little beast and one of the things he absolutely loves is being degraded. So after he posts a chapter, he turns off his computer, grabs his phone, and disappears to the couch (that folds down into a bed) and waits for a bit, maybe scrolls through his socials or watches some meme videos

And before too long, he hears the telltale ding of a comment, and he knows it's SY because he's turned off notifications for any of the other comments, and besides, SY almost ALWAYS comments first.

And so he opens the comment and he slowly slips his hand in his pants and rubs over himself

And he's so *so wet* even when he's only a couple sentences in because he knows just how much SY 'hates' PIDW (why does he continue reading it???) and despises the author because it's so 'disgustingly written' and that's really fuckin hot

His most-detailed comment writer, his biggest hater (fan) telling him all about his shortcomings. (He honestly rewrote the entirety of PIDW + gave it an actual ending + updates it occasionally when SY comments to add in smth he said - simply to gift to SY. He just hasn't worked up the courage to message him and tell him all about it. Cause he has a big fat crush. He really kinda sorta super wants to ask SY out.)

Anywho, he imagines he's straddling one of SY's thighs - he doesn't know what he looks like but he imagines some nerdy but strangely alluring and somewhat strict-looking guy - and rutting against it as SY types out a comment on his latest chapter

He imagines SY stopping his typing every so often to direct his words and attention to SQH, just telling him how pathetic he is, how his writing is sub-par, how he must be such a nasty-minded person to write such extensive smut scenarios, how SY doesn't even help him get off, just makes him move back and forth until he finally finds his release.

And probably scolds him for making such a mess, but SQH can't help it, he really can't when someone is speaking to him the way SY is speaking to him-

And it's during his post-orgasmic haze that he exits the comment and decides to message SY (I reckon there's a DM feature and while SY has his DMs set to limited, they're open to authors and friends messaging him)

And he gives SY a time and address for a local cheap coffee shop. Not really fancy, but the only place he can afford at the moment. And he just says smth like: 'Meet up with me here, we can work out our differences.' His brain is too muddled to dwell on the fact that he has no idea where SY is from and that his message is honestly so vague and weird that SY is probably horrified.

He falls asleep pretty quickly, and when he wakes up, he sees the message he sent, regrets it, but then rushes to get ready cause HE GAVE A TIME FOR THE NEXT FUCKING DAY?! He rushes to get the alt version novel printed and grabs his best clothes, then he's out.

He probably takes the train, and he's glancing at his phone anxiously every so often, and he's late, but then he's there, shoving the door open to the shop-

He spots SY in the corner, just sipping on a coffee, typing furiously on his laptop, looking like he hasn't slept in a long while his eyebags are so big. Also his glasses are taped in the middle. (I personally think that SY is such a shut-in that he takes forever to go out and get new glasses despite being perfectly financially stable...)

And he sits down in front of him, and he plops his stack of papers on the table. He doesn't say anything, he's honestly really nervous now and kinda guilty about the fact that he's been getting off to this guy's comments but...wow. SY is actually fucking gorgeous. Well, to him. He has a few acne scars, but his face is otherwise clear, and there's the tiniest bit of chub left in his cheeks, yet his cheekbones are still pronounced. His eyebrows are perfect, his hair is short and silky and frames his hair perfectly. And holy shit he really wishes he could get a look at the body beneath the clothes. Because if the rest of him is like his face...he's totally SQH's type.

But he doesn't say anything. And then SQH goes to open his mouth and say smth and SY stops typing and looks up at him and slowly closes his laptop. He looks strict with the look he has on his face currently: Intense, sharp, tired, but focused.

And then he sighs and it all kinda melts away and he actually looks really awkward/anxious as he looks at the table, and SQH can see him fiddling with his hands. And he just mutters: "Look bro, those comments weren't actually meant to be that mean, and I came because I wanted to say sorry, and I'm sure there are reasons for it...idk bro you seem chill? It's your story, and you're human, and it has nothing to do with my thoughts and opinions and-"

And SQH just slaps the stack of papers and slides them over toward SY. "Dude. I know PIDW is crap. I have to pay the bills." And he's not trying to be mean or anything about it, he couldn't care less what SY thinks (but also he's internally screaming BITCH IF YOU DONT KEEP ROASTING MY STORY IM GONNA FUCKING DIE-) he's just pretty straightforward. (I think when he's nervous he goes quiet, and he'll ramble when he's comfy around someone.)

And SY is just like "???" And he flips through some of the papers and his eyes go wide and there's just this SPARKLE in them (SQH thinks it's the cutest thing he's ever seen and he wants to kiss those beautiful eyes) and he's like "Bro, is this what I think it is?!" And SQH nods and SY just wiggles in his seat with this stupidly huge grin and starts reading through it, and every few seconds he points out smth he likes, or smth he didn't see coming, or etc etc. And they literally sit at that table and make conversation about this alt PIDW and SQH is happy and SY is happy. And then SQH realizes it's been a hot minute and he probably should get home and etc etc

But SY looks absolutely upset about this because he NEEDS to rant about this alt version because he's so fucking in love with it and even messaging SQH his every thought isn't enough

So SQH invites him over (totally a great idea. Did he ever clean up the wet stain on his couch from...?) And SY is immediately like NO I CANT IMPOSE + he doesn't want the vibe to change and mess up SQH's writing, so he invites him to the hotel he's staying at and SQH is so relieved and immediately says YES

And they pack their stuff up and go outside and he starts walking in the direction of the train station when he hears a beep beep, and there's this luxurious-ass car that SY is getting into. And he tries (and fails) to hide his surprise because is SY rich?!

Upon arriving at the hotel, yeah, yeah he's rich. They're at the fanciest place in town, and they go almost to the very top. It's a large suite. And then SY apologizes for not getting a larger room, it was just really short notice, and SQH is just 'dobdoavd9svs9acs9svs9vxozv' malfunctioning.

Anyway, after he gets over it, they start talking about alt PIDW. Hours and hours and hours pass like that. It's a long novel, so suddenly it's 2 or 3 in the morning, and they're not even halfway through (SY is a really fast reader holy shit) and SQH realizes it's time for him to go home. So he goes to get up (when did they end up in the bed together, side by side?) And SY grabs his wrist because he doesn't want him to go yet he NEEDS to binge alt PIDW and suddenly SQH is tumbling down, right onto him.

Their noses are just barely brushing, their eyes are locked onto each other, and maybe it's just SQH but are they both red and breathing a bit harder?

And then SY just asks: "Do you like boys?"

And SQH can only nod once, slowly, and then they're kissing, lips smashing together, and SQH is decent at kissing, and SY is...not but oh well, and they're tugging at each other, and they're breathless, and when they break away from the kiss they're both panting and tousled.

SQH: Please tell me that wasn't just me (even when SY very obviously was a happy participant, he's still worried cause holy fuck is he really...?!?!?!?)

SY: Y-yeah. If you wanna? Or is it weird that like- I never imagined you'd be this...hot, Airplane-Bro. (And he's blushing and can't look SQH in the eyes) I kinda always imagined you to be like...idek.

SQH: Well...I'm not whatever you imagined? I guess? ... I don't think it's weird? I mean, you weren't exactly wrong when you typed your comments (he shudders at the thought) about the fact I'm just a...horny little bastard.

SY: Sorry. Heh. About that. But um. I guess it's a good thing you *are*? Right?

SQH: Right. So you're cool with this?

SY: Yeah, yeah. Definitely. Please. Oh! Uh, I just realized, um, names. I'm Shen Yuan.

SQH: I'm Shang Qinghua.

And then they're pausing awkwardly, briefly, before they're kissing again, and then the clothes are pulled off, then they're figuring out what feels great to the other, and they're just setting up a decent rhythm.

They eventually finish alt PIDW together. And SQH, once again brave in his post-orgasmic haze, asks to date SY. And then he also admits he wants SY to keep commenting with as much ferocity as usual. He explains why and SY just goes bright red, but he's so down.

SY does have to return home soon, but he makes arrangements for SQH to move in not long after (a couple months at MOST, which were spent traveling back and forth by SY) - "Look bro, I absolutely need any updates to the alt, any insights, any brainstorming, to be said aloud IMMEDIATELY" - "You just want the great sex and cuddles" (SQH has become very teasing very quickly, and very confident in his sexuality, tho SY is still rather shy about it) - and SY goes bright red as usual XD

If you've read this far, PLEASE MESSAGE ME OH MY GOD. I NEED TO RANT ABOUT CUMPLANE MORE. And also if I do write fics for them I'll send you snippets. :3

And yeah. *thumbs up*

Have I fed you well, gremlins???

One last note: T4T cumplane my beloved

(SQH is on T and has had a breast reduction, SY is on T and has had top surgery but no bottom surgery, which he's still deciding if he wants or not.)

(ALSO - they do get to degrading eventually but SY is very nervous about it at first aha)

[idkwhatever580]

Her pt. 1

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

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader

Prompt: natasha meets y/n while undercover at a soup kitchen. What happens when hydra gets mixed in?

Warnings ⚠️: cursing, some angst, mentions of blood and gunshot, getting beat up? Tell me if there’s any more!!

Pronouns: she/her

A/N: guys this one is really long 😭 idk how many words tho. Idk how to find that out. Make sure to tell me if you like it and follow if you want to see my next post. (Idk when it will go up but I think I’m gonna do a part two)-> https://www.tumblr.com/idkwhatever580/749925326055948288/her-pt-2

Natasha’s Pov

Ugh. This is so stupid. I hate this room.

Fury thinks it is a good idea for us to stay in a stupid rinky dink motel to keep our identities safe.

I think it’s bullshit. The least he can give us is a days inn. But noooo we gotta stay in a one star motel that stinks and has horrible water pressure.

I look over at Clint and glare. He smirks at me and says

“Why the long face?”

I sneer and say

“You know exactly why. We’re stuck in this dump for another month!”

He chuckles and says

“We’ve already been here a month. What’s one more? I honestly think this place is growing on me”

I roll my eyes and say

“Of course you would end up liking this shithole.”

He comes over and nudges my shoulder and says

“Hey! Think about it this way. You get to see her for another month.”

I narrow my eyes at him when he puts on a cheeky grin.

I scoff and brush it off like normal. But Clint knows. He knows me. He knows that I like her.

Her.

I could think about her all day if I tried.

You see, Clint and I are on an undercover mission to investigate a possible hydra meeting place. We’ve been eating at this soup kitchen for weeks. Acting like we’re homeless so we can get info. Normally I would hate this job. And I do don’t get me wrong, but there’s this one volunteer. Her name is y/n.

Y/n.

Doesn’t that just roll right off your tongue? I wish she’d roll right on my tongue.

I shake my head to void myself of these thoughts. But it’s all in vain. She is so pretty.

Her smile is bright. Albeit her teeth might not be perfect but I think it makes her even better. She makes this whole thing bearable.

Her sweet face, and quirky remarks make me almost blush.

Almost.

Clint snaps in front of my face and I look up at him and he says

“Did you hear a single thing I said?”

I shake my head even though I want to say yes. Whatever he said could have been important.

He sighs and says

“Well. I’m going to take a shower. And try to see if the water actually heats up this time. If not. I’ll still be in there a while. I gotta take a shit. So if you need to use the bathroom I suggest you go now or forever hold your peace”

I chuckle a bit and shake my head and he grabs his towel and says

“Alright. Have fun thinking about y/n”

He goes off and I lie back on the bed. It creaks but I don’t care anymore. All I can think about is her.

I don’t know who she is. She seems well off. But she’s not mean. No. What mean person would willingly volunteer at a soup kitchen?

She is so tender. Always making sure all the homeless people get their fair share and if she thinks someone is looking a little skinny one day she’ll give them a bit more.

She always gives me a bit more. Then says she put too much. Clint thinks it’s just to see me a bit more. I think she’s just a bit tired by the time I get in line.

Her.

God. It’s only been a month and her beauty floods my senses. I remember the first time she hugged me.

She smelled like oranges and cupcakes.

She always stayed and sat with all the homeless people. Making sure to update herself on their lives.

Clint and I stay longer though. So she ends up talking to me. He kind of acts closed off. So that he can always be on guard.

He knows my senses are being let down by her. And he’s okay with it. I wish I wasn’t.

She talks of her life a lot. And I sometimes think I see her look at my lips but I shake it away and try to forget that telling myself I imagined it.

By the time I’m done day dreaming of her today, Clint comes out and says

“One. Do NOT go in there. And two. Let’s get ready to go”

I sigh and smile a bit. I know I’m gonna get to see her. I put on my ‘homeless attire’ and we leave the building.

We walk into the soup kitchen along with some of the others who are nice. I look around and my eyes zero in on y/n’s normal spot. I see her and she sees me at the same time

She smiles excitedly and waves at all of us but her eyes linger on me. I wave back shyly.

We go up and she portions our food while asking how everyone’s day has been.

When it’s my turn she portions my food and hands it to me and then says

“Oh! I think I gave you a bit too much. Here let me fix it.”

She brushes her hand across mine and for the first time. I blush.

I blush

Crap. I blushed.

Thankfully she doesn’t notice. But I know.

She hands it back to me and says “there you go sweets”

I smile shyly but I’m screaming inside. I thank y/n and scurry off to my undesignated designated spot. Clint sits by me and says

“Did you?”

I slap him in the arm and say

“Shut up Barton or I’ll kill you”

He giggles and hops away from me to eat his food.

After a while y/n comes up to me and says

“Hey girl! I finally finished the portions. Wanna talk?”

She always asks if I want to talk and I always nod my head. She sits down and start yapping while I smile and listen to it all. At some point she says

“My mom and I always had this deal. That if I ever sent a message to her with a lowercase x at the end, that means I am in danger. Thank goodness I never had to use it though.”

She quickly moves on to another topic just as fast as she got to the previous. I try to keep up with her.

As the soup kitchen closes for the day around 3 and we all leave. I leave with a smile on my face.

God she’s so pretty.

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

I wake up in bed and smile. I look over at my alarm clock and realize I have only about thirty minutes left to get ready for the soup kitchen.

I hop out of bed and Clint smirks and says

“You’ve never slept that long. You good?”

I roll my eyes and say

“Fuck off”

We quickly leave for the soup kitchen and I walk in and look for y/n. My eyebrows furrow when she’s not in her normal spot.

I go over to Calvin, the soup kitchen owner and say

“Hey. Is y/n here today?”

He shakes his head and says

“No. Surprisingly she sent me a text this morning saying she’s not gonna make it. Look”

Calvin turns his phone towards me and I read the message.

Y/n Y/l/n

Hey! I’m so sorry this is last minute but I can’t come in today. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow! x

My eyes widen and I say

“Oh. Okay. Thanks Calvin.”

I quickly walk to Clint who is eagerly waiting in line for his food. I whisper to him.

“We need to go. Y/n is in danger.”

He looks at me confused and says

“What? You heard Calvin. He said she said she was fine.”

I shake my head and only now does Clint realize I am being serious.

“Aww but I just got to the front of the line”

Clint whines and pouts and I say

“If I let you grab this you better get a to go box. And hurry”

In a stern voice. He nods his head and gets his food quickly.

We head back to the motel. I pull out my emergency bag and grab the laptop. I’m only supposed to go online in emergencies and I dictate this as one.

I explain to Clint what is wrong and he nods his head in agreement. Y/n has never missed a day of the soup kitchen. Even when she was so tired she looked dead.

I quickly power it on and start looking into her socials.

It’s a wonder I haven’t looked her up until now. It’s actually a wonder that I haven’t even heard of her. She’s popular.

She’s a famous artist. Actress and Singer/songwriter. Her name is Y/n y/m/n y/l/n. She’s 24. Only three years younger than me. She acts in some really popular movies. Of course I never have watched them. Or else I would have probably recognized her. She writes and sings a bit. But not much.

I start digging deeper. I look at her most recent posts and I see that she posted on Instagram about the same time that she sent the message to Calvin.

I read the post and it’s a cute picture of her. From yesterday. That’s the outfit she wore and she took a quick selfie in it.

She added a paragraph and I scour it intensely.

Hey guys! I know I don’t do this a lot but I whant to come on heere and thank you for your dedication tol me. I’m so excited to have hit fifty milliopn follmowers on Instageram. It’sh truly an hyonor to be lovedd by so rmany of youa. xoxo x

I see how she has a bunch of misspelled words and I put two and two together. The misspellings put together make out a sentence.

Help me hydra x

I look back at Clint and he says

“Damn. That was easy. She’s smart.”

All the comments are either fawning over her or bullying her for having so many misspellings but I know. She’s communicating to me. To anyone who notices. And I am the person right now.

Thankfully, the hydra people are fucking stupid. And I’m highly trained in coding. So I am able to track her phone easily.

I pinpoint it at the soup kitchen. And then Clint grabs my shoulder and says.

“The back room. Y/n always talked about Calvin chilling in a back room that she caught a glimpse of once. She said it looked scary.”

I widen my eyes and my shoulders tense up say

“You think they’re stupid enough to keep her there?”

He nods his head and I shake mine and say

“Well. There’s no harm in trying. And we might get our mission done faster if we’re right.”

I quickly put on my suit as Clint puts his on in the bathroom. He walks up with his bow and arrow at the ready and he says.

“You ready?”

I nod my head stiffly and we hop in the run down car that we are only allowed to use in emergencies. Once again we both dictate this an emergency.

Clint drives as I map out a plan outloud.

“Okay. So we’re gonna split up. You go in the front. I’ll go in the back. See what we can find. I know our mission is to get intel but if y/n doesn’t make it out alive I’m gonna burn the whole city down.”

Clint chuckles a bit with his signature smile on and I raise my eyebrow and say

“What?”

He shakes his head and says,

“Well, it’s just- you really like this girl huh? I mean burning the city down is a pretty big thing to do. And that’s kind of odd for you. I didn’t think you’d be the type.”

I scoff and cross my arms and say

“We need to focus on the mission. And not the fact that I may or may not be down bad.”

He chuckles once more and then pulls into a spot away from the soup kitchen.

I run to the back and Clint runs to the front once we solidify our plan and then we both easily break in. The soup kitchen is usually open in case there is a homeless person who desperately needs shelter. Like if there’s a storm or something. Thankfully though Clint tells me through comms that there’s no one inside.

“I’m in”

I say when I pick the lock. I frown when I realize that this is gonna be an easy feat. I know not to let my guard down. Just in case.

I hear a crackle when the comms come on and Clint says,

“Hey nat… you’re gonna want to see this”

I put my finger on my earpiece and say,

“Did you find y/n?”

“No, but I found the intel we were definitely looking for. And a lot more.”

I frown and say,

“Okay put it on a drive then come find me. I’m in the west wing. Call a quinjet to pick us up.”

——————————————————————————

Nobody’s pov

Clint downloads the files to a usb drive and he kind of freezes for a moment as he sees the files of horrifying victims flow into it. There’s footsteps headed his way and he pulls out his arrows and prepares to shoot someone.

One set of footsteps quickly becomes about four and something he can quite pin he takes a breath prepared to fight.

The doors open so fast he doesn’t even have time to blink before he is shooting his arrows. He quickly downs four of them but he knows there’s a fifth.

He slowly looks around the area they came in and moves around the desk only to find a shaking ball of a human. He squats down and says

“Y/n?”

So softly she might not have heard it. She snaps her head up and says

“Cliff?”

She sniffles when she says his code name and he holds his hand out for her and says.

“It’s Clint. I know this is confusing and scary but we’ve got to find Natasha and get you out of here before anything else happens okay?”

She nods her head and says

“Is Natalie Natasha?”

Clint nods his head and presses his earpiece to tell Natasha that they’re done.

Natasha huffs and says

“Wow you just have to take all the credit huh?”

Clint giggles a bit and then grabs the full usb drive and starts walking out carefully. He looks back at y/n and says

“Are you coming or not?”

She is shaking and says,

“Uh. I- I think I can’t walk”

Clint finally realizes that she has a bullet in her thigh and it’s bleeding a bit but thankfully not enough to kill her. At least for now. He sighs and says,

“Alright. I’m gonna pick you up and we’re gonna fly to New York for a bit to get you healed.”

She nods her head and we head off.

Once Clint gets everyone on the quinjet y/n passes out.

“Fuck”

——————————————————————————

Y/n’s pov

I wake up in a hospital bed. I open my eyes a bit just to close them immediately. You’d think that they would turn the lights down or something.

I groan a bit and someone is at my side. I don’t even want to see who it is. I just want to get back to my home.

Which is what got me into this situation in the first place.

——————————————————————————

(Kind of flashback?)

I walked out of the soup kitchen. Everyone had left and I locked the door. I decided to walk there today so I started my trek back home. And then I realized I left my phone. So I went back and unlocked the door.

Calvin was in there. I assume he is just restocking or something and I say hi and asked if he has seen my phone.

He dangles it in front of my face and then puts a gun to my head.

Shit

He says I need to make a text to send to him so that nobody from the soup kitchen worries about me and then make a post so that my fans don’t think anything of my absence.

At this point. I probably won’t be making it out.

Yes I’m famous. And yes I have a lot of caring fans.

But nobody knows me well enough to even think of me. And by the time someone does. I’ll probably be dead.

He walks me to the back room that I’ve only seen once. Damn. I knew this was sketch.

His grip on my hands is so tight.

I didn’t even realize I have tears streaming down my face until he says

“Quit your whimpering. If you get us caught you’re dead”

I look up at him and say

“Us? There’s more?”

He scoffs and says

“Of course there’s more of us. Hydra doesn’t do loners. We’re not dumb enough. Now shut up or I’ll kill you and everyone else you’ve ever loved. Including your little Natalie”

That shut me up real quick.

Fuck my life.

He throws me in a cell and beats me up. I have so many cuts and bruises already.

He left me about an hour ago and now I’m just laying here on the concrete. By my calculations the soup kitchen will open in about 8 hours. Hopefully Natalie notices I’m gone.

She notices everything.

I know she’s homeless and I’m not but part of me wants to take her with me. Give her a new life.

Make her mine.

But she doesn’t like me like that. And that wouldn’t be fair to the other homeless people who have been here even longer.

Gran says I’m head over heels and I should court her. But she’s also a bit crazy.

But then again pops says she likes me back. And although pops is like never wrong, there’s always a first time for everything. I’m not so sure though.

God how am I thinking of her at a time like this? I’m actually daydreaming about a silly little (not so little) crush of mine while my life is at stake. Well, I have nothing else to do. So thinking about her it is.

Her

She’s so beautiful. Even when she has dirt all over her and her clothes look like they need more than just a little stitching and washing.

Natalie

It’s a pretty name but it honestly doesn’t fit her quite right. I just don’t know what other name would though.

Meh. I’m probably just being weird.

By the time I am finished thinking about her I fall asleep and I wake up and calculate it is already morning. Thank god. My calculations are confirmed when one of the guards brought me food for some reason. I ask him

“What time is it?”

He says,

“I’m not supposed to talk to you but it’s 10:46 am”

I nod my head and thank him.

I scarf the food down so I can hopefully get as much energy before they take it away from me. Maybe I’ll be able to stay alive longer.

After I’m finished Calvin walks in and says

“What do you know about Natalie?”

I frown and say

“Why?”

“You’re very close to her. And i want info on her. If you tell me everything you know I’ll let you go”

I consider my options. But clearly they want her info for something. I don’t want her to be in danger. She’s strong yes. But she’s also homeless. Nobody to care for her. And I don’t want her to die on my watch. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if one of my favorite people died because of me. Hoe selfish would that be.

So I say the bare minimum.

“I don’t actually know much about her. I usually do all the talking.”

He kicks me. Ouch.

“I think her favorite color is red. And her favorite food is whatever I cook. At least that’s what she says.”

Another kick. Ow.

Calvin gets a bit mad and says.

“The soup kitchen is about to open. I’m gonna go get the food prepared and you’re going to think about every little thing she’s ever told you. And about that cliff dude too.”

I glare at him and say

“He never talks. You think I know anything? I’m just a stupid girl.”

He sneers and says

“If you don’t come up with anything good you better kiss your little girlfriend goodbye.”

I frown and curl into a ball as he leaves.

I mumble

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

What can I find that will seem plausible that isn’t true about her.

——————————————————————————

Time jump to after soup kitchen closes and Calvin comes back.

“Tell me everything you know bitch”

I spit at him and say

“I don’t know anything about them”

He gets really angry at that and he kicks me in the head.

I’m shaking really bad already. That’s gonna hurt way worse later. If I make it to later.

After more and more berating he finally has enough and pulls out a gun. I cry and sob and say

“Pl- please no. Calvin you’re better than this! It’s okay I won’t tell anyone! I promise just let me go. Please”

I beg but he doesn’t give in. He points the gun at me and shoots.

It hits me in my thigh and I scream. I scream and I scream and he says

“Shut up bitch. Nobody can hear you. They won’t hear you when you scream.”

I cry but I quiet down. Clearly there’s no point in using my voice. I’m just gonna die anyways.

Suddenly there’s a guard running to Calvin and he whispers something to him. Calvin looks at me and says

“Get up bitch. You’re coming with us”

Three more guards come and pick me up and start marching me away from whatever it is they’re scared of. They open a door and then I fall on the ground. They dropped me for some reason but I don’t care. I curl up into a ball and then a soft voice calls my name.

I look up and say

“Cliff?”

——————————————————————————

And that’s how I ended up here.

I’m in a hospital bed. Somewhere. Probably safe.

I finally open my eyes and see Natalie. Well. Natasha.

That name fits her better. Now I know why I felt that way. She’s still so pretty.

But she’s in a black catsuit. It shows off her curves. I look away because I don’t want to objectify her or anything.

She smiles and says

“You’re awake”

I can tell that she wants to say something else but doesn’t know if she can.

I look at her and say.

“Yeah. What happened?”

“Well. You obviously know you were kidnapped by hydra.”

I nod my head and don’t let her finish. I’m clearly hurt when I say

“Why did you lie to me?”

She sighs and says.

“I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. I lied because I am an avenger. We’re in New York City at the avengers tower. I can take you home as soon as you’re cleared. But for now I’m going to explain okay?”

I nod my head and let her speak.

“Since I am an avenger and a highly ranked spy, I sometimes have to go on missions undercover. My name is Natasha romanoff. My alias’ are Natalie rushman, black widow and others. I was recently undercover with my friend and coworker Clint Barton. His alias’ are cliff barren and Hawkeye.”

She pauses and then continues

“We were looking to find intel. We had a hint that hydra, the people that took you, were there. Thankfully you were able to send a message out before they took you. They’re dumb. So I tracked you the second I knew you were in danger.”

I frown and say

“So you lied about not knowing who I was?”

She shook her head and says

“I only found out who you were after you sent that message. Because I looked you up on my emergency computer. So no. I didn’t lie about that. Y/n you are very brave and strong. Most people wouldn’t have made it out of there. Most people didn’t.”

I nod my head and say

“So. How long have I been out?”

“About a day and a half. Clint and I went to the soup kitchen the past two days to make sure everyone was okay. It’s under new management already. She’s nice. Her name is Mary. We cleared out hydra and everything and everyone at the soup kitchen is okay.”

I nod my head and say

“That’s good.”

I frown and say

“What now?”

She sighs and sits down and says

“Well. You have a few options after you’re cleared. Continue on with life and forget all about us. Or, we can create a new safe soup kitchen and you can start creating houses for the homeless. Give them new opportunities. Get some of them into rehab. Follow your dream. Fully paid of course, courtesy of Tony Stark and SHEILD considering you helped us get one of the biggest bouts of information in a very short amount of time.”

My eyes light up and I say

“Wait… you… you listened to me when I was talking?”

Natasha nods her head and says

“I don’t know if you noticed but I notice everything. When you talked about your dreams of retiring as an actress to help the needy, it was so moving. It’s a good dream. And I want to help you achieve it.”

I sit up carefully and say

“I’m so excited I could just kiss you!”

I realize what I said and then say

“Oh shit. I didn’t- I don’t- I didn’t mean that”

Natasha says

“Really? Because I would have done it if you did mean it.”

I widen my eyes and point at her a little dumbfounded and say

“You- you wanna- I-l”

She smirks and walks up to my hospital bed and leans into me. She stops just before to silently ask permission and I nod my head.

She presses her lips softly into mine and they’re softer than clouds. She pulls away softly and I giggle like a school girl and say

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

Natasha raises her eyebrow and says

“Even when I was covered in dirt and smelled like shit?”

I shrug my shoulders and say

“I think it adds to your charm. You’re a cutie”

We hear a chuckle from the doorway and Clint walks in. He smirks and says

“I don’t think anyone has ever called Natasha romanoff a cutie and made it out alive.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and says

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nobody called me anything”

I giggle and say.

“Natasha?”

She immediately looks at me and I say

“Do you think I can really do that homeless shelter?”

She nods her head and says

“I know you can.”

I smile realizing a whole new chapter of my life is about to start. And it’s gonna be great.

All because of her

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

A/N: whew!! Damn that was long. I hope y’all liked it!!! Please tell me if there are any warnings I missed. I think I’m gonna do a part two of the next chapter in y/n’s life. I really just write whatever I’m thinking about lol. My anons are in fact open. I don’t have too many requirements. But expect to have a happy ending lol I’m so sappy 🤷‍♀️🩷

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap seven/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Bad Idea

summary: After a week of avoiding, you find Steve at your front steps.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. Steve and Reader have THE talk, we learn Steve & Emma’s story. There will be discussions of feelings about watching a loved one struggle with terminal illness and death in this chapter. There’s not a ton of details about her struggles but it is touched on. Angsty beginning and a very, very fluffy end 🧡

author’s note: it’s all up hill from here guys, just a little growing pains. i can’t believe there’s only three chapters left after this 🥺 thank you for reading and all of the sweet reblogs and messages through out this whole series. you have made this so special for me and it’s been such a comfort to write as I navigate my own life changes right now.

🌇 <- chapter six -> chapter eight

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

End of June -

It had been a week since Steve came back from his camping trip. A week of good morning texts left unanswered, of making sure not to look out your window when you knew he was home - even when you could hear him play with Bandit. He was doing that outside more than usual, a tactic to try and get you to come out and talk to him or hell, even just look at him. 

He doesn’t know that a few times it almost worked. 

Always & Forever

The words engraved into silver also stay carved deep and fresh in your mind, not letting you forget. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Especially not her beautiful eyes. Does she hate you? Part of you feels like you would hate you. The guilt threatens to punch the air out of your lungs.

The days go on like this with you doing everything in your power to avoid him while he did everything he could to run into you. The last ditch effort was after you caught him getting out of his car, your eyes meeting for a split second before you cut through the alley walking in through the back gate instead. Your resolve to stay away grows weaker when Steve’s good morning texts finally stop after that. 

So when Brad, the new server, gets the courage to ask you out, you say yes. It was a bad idea, anyone could’ve told you that, you didn’t really want him. He was just a distraction from facing the consequences of your own actions.  

He takes you to RPM Steakhouse in the heart of downtown and surprisingly he actually makes you laugh. He’s full of food industry horror stories he’s collected over the years. He’s not boring and he’s attentive when you talk, asking questions like he’s really interested. The butterflies that have built a home in your rib cage don’t flutter and fly for him though. The nerves that make your heart beat faster, the ones that feel like they vibrate from your fingertips, like your skin is on fire, are stagnant. 

He’s not Steve. 

You skip out on dessert when it’s offered to you, but you let him hug you before you get in your separate Uber’s home. It worked for a few hours at least. Looking out the window when your car hits the expressway, the skyline shines gleaming like the stars in the clear night sky.

It’s not very long until your phone fights for your attention, the screen illuminating the backseat. It pulls you back to reality, your breath catching when it’s not Brad’s name that flashes across your screen.

Steve

Can we please just talk? 

You aren’t expecting to see him at your front steps when the Uber drops you off at your gate. His hair sticks out wild at the ends, like he’s been pulling it all night, scratch that, all week and it makes more guilt settle deep in your gut. The scruff on his jaw is almost dark enough to be a beard now. His legs are covered in gray sweats and the white undershirt he wears fits tight over his shoulders. You hate how handsome he still is, even with his slides and socks.

He’s talking to himself, moving his hands like he’s trying to explain something, reciting a speech you can’t quite hear from as far as you are. The leftovers shift in your bag when you take your first step making the styrofoam squeak and plastic crinkle, his eyes shoot up instantly at the noise.

“Honey?”

Those wings start to stretch and flutter even after just one word. You wish you could be mad at how much power one word from him has, but all you feel is the weight of how much you missed him when his face softens.

“Hi Steve.” You catch the way his lips twitch at the sound of his name coming from your mouth when you open the gate. It had been too long for him, he’d become addicted to it without even knowing it.

He stands up, his eyes can’t help but roam your bare legs that sit exposed in your black cocktail dress, or the way the middle sinches into your waist, before fluttering out over the tops of your thighs. His own jealousy threatens to bubble over at the thought of you wearing this for someone else. He needs you to understand him.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck while he reads the restaurant name on your bag. He hopes whoever took you there isn’t coming back. “If it is sweetheart, I can give you more space. I just, I just wanted to see you.”

You stop in front of him, further away than normal but close enough to smell the cigar smoke that still clings to the cotton of his shirt. It mixes with the spice of his cologne from earlier this morning. His eyes find yours without hesitation, glazed over from the glass of whiskey you’re sure he nursed before finding himself on your front steps. They shimmer under the moon like emeralds and you just want to get lost in them.

The answer you want to give and the answer that you think will protect you are at each other’s throats, constricting yours from giving him anything right away. His face crumbles a little when his question is met with silence. You don’t want him to go.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” It comes out before you can fight it.

The smile that tugs at Steve’s lips warms your face like the summer sun, his hand reaching out for you before pulling back and finding a new home deep in his pocket instead. Baby steps. Your arm brushes against his when you walk past him, the smallest touch lighting the match.

“I just need to get out of this dress.” You can’t look at him when you pull at the fabric as if to show him how uncomfortable it is.

“Should I wait down here?” He clears his throat a little unsure of himself as he watches you dig through your purse. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Cicadas buzz loud against the jingle of your keys in the beat of silence it takes you to unlock the front door. The stale air of the walkway hits you like an oven when you push it open, the heat making your skin stick more than it did outside.

“You can come up. I promise my dishes are done this time.” You flash him a smirk from over your shoulder watching the way your gesture makes him relax like you’d intended, secretly enjoying the blush you still can get to flush his cheeks so easily. 

Steve hadn’t been inside your apartment since the day he fixed your sink, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him here. He’s handsome in a timeless way, still somehow put together even in his disheveled state. You watch the way he takes in his surroundings like he wants to commit it all to memory not knowing that he actually is, just in case this all blows up in his face and you never let him come back here again. 

The only noise that fills the room is the loud whirr of your A/C and it’s your turn to clear your throat.

“Umm, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be really quick.” You awkwardly gesture towards your green couch, grimacing when your mind goes back to the beautiful leather one at his place. 

He just nods, rubbing his palms against his thighs while taking one last look around before sitting. Your nose scrunches when you see how deep he sinks down, maybe a used couch wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You wait till your door is shut to let out the long breath you feel like you’ve been holding this whole time. The familiar thumping in your chest returns ten fold. He’s in your living room.  

You try not to think too much about the yoga shorts and oversized shirt you change into, especially when your muscles relax, no longer strained by the tight nylon material dress. Allowing a single once over in your long mirror, you force yourself back out, the creak of your door alerting him of your return. His stare makes goosebumps dance across sticky skin in a battle with the air conditioning.

“Do you want some water?” You try to sound casual when you ask, keeping your back to him so he can’t see the way you’re still buying time.

“S- sure,” he stutters out, a cough following and you hear the way the cushions respond to his weight as he tries leaning forward. 

Now it's the whirr of your a/c and the grumbling of the ice machine that silences the unspoken feelings that are begging to come out. Scratching and clawing their way to the surface, the cracks in your facade start getting deeper the longer you stay quiet.

Steve breaks first.

“I think there’s a conversation we should have.” He pauses before starting over, “There’s a conversation I want to have.”

You freeze when the realization of where you left the watering can smacks you right in the face.

“Steve-“ you start, unable to meet his eyes and he’s quick to cut you off.

“Listen, I have some things I need to say and you should at least let me get it off my chest if you’re just going to pretend I don’t exist now.” His words make you realize the selfishness that hides under your insecurities of not being good enough for someone like him. 

He stands up when you turn around, both of you staying on opposite sides of the room. He takes a shaky breath before dragging his fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel these things again with anyone else, I was sure of it actually and then you showed up in your horribly packed moving truck.” He laughs a little like he’s still wrapping his head around all of it, and he knows if the situation was any different you’d roll your eyes at him for the teasing jab.

“You brought all of these things out of me that I thought I’d lost for good. Like, I can’t remember the last time I cared about what I was wearing when I left the house, but the past month I’ve been obsessed about it. Like what if she’s outside? What if she’s looking out her window? What if she wants to talk to me?” The veins in his neck show themselves as he gets more worked up but he’s not done yet.

“Then last week when you showed up at my front gate, looking even prettier than the last time I saw you, because you do that somehow, I couldn’t help myself around you anymore. The fact that you were actually going to kiss me back after I put the worst moves on you made me feel like I won the lottery or something.” His gaze meets yours to make sure he isn’t scaring you off before taking a deep breath.

“And then, and then you just - you just left without so much as a reason why. It was pretty clear though when I got home, and maybe that’s my fault because I feel like I’m doing this all backwards but you didn’t give us a chance to even talk about it.”

Steve looks like his world is falling apart, and the things he’s saying make you feel like anything but a second choice. You wish you could go back to that rainy day at his house and do things over again.

“I wasn’t given the shot at a fair fight the first time something special was taken from me, but I have one now and I’m not walking away unless you kick me out.” He straightens his shoulders a little before another anxious hand runs through his wild hair. His chest heaves as he finally gets out what’s been sitting just below the surface the whole time, his fears revealing themselves behind flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. 

The feeling like you’re slighting another woman who isn’t here is hard to navigate. It makes your own eyes sting but you don’t let the tears fall. Not when he’s handing his heart to you like he means it.

“I’d never kick you out,” your words come out quiet - soft, a stark contrast to the way his boomed loud with conviction, but he doesn’t miss them.

Hope starts to sprout deep in his chest for the first time in years.

“Never?” He breathes, relief relaxing the hard lines on his face while he looks at you from under his lashes.

His feet take him those few steps closer and when you make no moves to tell him to stop he keeps going. The sadness that plagues his handsome features slowly starts to fade and the bags under his eyes become more obvious. You want to kiss them.

Your hand extends, fingers reaching out for his. His eyes follow your movements, taking in what you’re offering and he doesn’t hesitate anymore, interlocking them like when he walked you to your front door. You watch the way his shoulders give the moment they touch and his eyes close as he relishes in the feel of it. Of you. 

Your back hits the edge of your kitchen sink when he crowds your space a little more, your fingers playing songs on imaginary strings together. Memorizing he dips between each one. His nose skims across your forehead making your own eyes close. How could you ever stay away from him?

“Never.” 

He hums at your confession, squeezing your hand gently before pulling back. He takes his time admiring your face from this close. He missed you so much, he actually thinks it’s kind of crazy. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. He loves the way you lean into it. You missed him too.

“Can we have that conversation now?” 

All you can do is nod, tears still threatening to spill out but now a different kind.

The two of you sit on your couch for hours, worn in cushions pushing you close together. Your head rests on his arm that’s draped along the back of it, your socked feet in his lap. He tells you how he met Emma through his high school sweetheart Nancy. The ex that turned him into a man as he put it, the one that made him really think about the kind of person he wanted to be. Even going as far to say Emma would have never given him the time of day if it wasn’t for her. Nancy was the Managing Editor of The Chicago Tribune and Emma was her Editor in Chief.

After being introduced by Nancy at a sports gala, Steve pursued her hard, especially because she said no the first three times he asked her out. It makes you giggle when he laughs about it. He said he knew he wanted to marry her after the first date and a year later he proposed to her on a group vacation with Eddie, Robin, Nancy and a few other friends in Mexico. The picture you saw was taken right after she said yes.

The wedding was small, just a few of their closest friends at The Chicago Botanical Gardens, and a dinner at Smith & Wollensky next to the river after. He told you how Eddie pretended to be mad the whole night becauseSteve made Robin his best man instead. They both moved into Steve’s apartment near Wrigley Field after a honeymoon in Italy. He said it was some of the best years of his life with her there, young and in love in one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city. Then a few years passed and both their careers started taking off and they started wanting more as they got older. A family.

That’s when they started to invest in renovating this fixer upper of a house in a less nightlife oriented neighborhood. The house you live next door to. Between busy work schedules and dealing with contractors when the symptoms first started, they didn’t think anything of it. They chalked it up to exhaustion until she fainted in her office a few months later, then they finally saw a doctor. Another month later after multiple tests and hospital visits Emma was diagnosed with ALS.

“I’ve never seen something debilitate someone so fast, and Emma, god Emma was so strong. Seeing her like that at the end, it fucking broke me.” Steve’s voice cracks, a silent stream of tears falling down his cheeks now.

Your heart breaks for them, the tragedy of watching the person you love fall apart with nothing to do to stop it. An entire life you had planned ripped out from under you with zero warning or mercy. A cruel joke.

You reach up, using the back of your knuckles to wipe away his tears.  He leans in your touch, his gaze meeting yours with so many emotions inside of them, you think you might drown.

“We decided to stay in our apartment when she couldn’t walk anymore, with the rate it was moving she didn’t want me to live in this big new house meant for our new beginning and have her…have her die in it,” the last part comes out in just above a whisper, stopping to collect his thoughts. His brows furrow together and his fingers search for yours again. You give them to him without question. 

“We checked her into hospice a month after that, Eddie flew in the day she chose to get off assistance. She was surrounded by the people she loved the most those last days.” He takes another deep breath before he continues, it shakes just like his hands.

“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I don’t know how someone is supposed to go through that kind of pain and move on from it. Be a person again after it.” He takes another pause and he pulls you closer. His anchor.

“I don’t know if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for Eddie moving into the house with me those first three months, if I’m being totally honest with you.” He sniffs, his gaze falls to his lap to try and hide the shame at the thought, and you squeeze his hand a little bit harder.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” Your voice cracks at the weight of everything he’s been carrying around. The gravity of the way you left him tightens in your throat.

The tears you’d been holding back break free, making his eyes snap to yours. He lets your hand go to wipe your cheeks with gentle fingers like you did to his just moments before. He knows you're apologizing for more than just his bad luck.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. The tips of your noses touch, tears mixing and dripping down the ends of them. You keep your eyes closed in hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain. Even if it’s just a little bit. “We’re okay now.”

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like this together, not speaking, letting wandering hands memorize faces and fingertips. Your breathing falls in time while your cheeks start to dry. Puffy red eyes stay closed while your muscles finally relax. His nose rubs small circles against yours that make smiles neither of you can see stretch across tear streaked faces.

When you finally open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, something brighter inside of his now like he just let go of a big secret. He doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s you that finally works up the strength to pull away enough to really see his whole face after depriving yourself of it for so long.

“I actually kinda feel like she sent you here, despite me,” he admits, laughing nervously, breaking the silence, “She made me promise her that I’d try and find love again when the time was right, I eventually said yes after she asked me at least a dozen times, but I never actually intended on it.” 

Steve stops for a second to brush some of your mascara that smudged, holding your eyes in the forest of his.

“Then five years later, this tough girl tries moving an entire apartment’s worth of stuff by herself next door. I mean, you practically did.” He smiles at how proud you look of yourself, “I knew I was screwed when Bandit sniffed you out.”

You giggle like you're just as love sick as him and he wishes he could play it on a loop whenever he’s sad. 

“She was probably laughing at how bad I was at trying to flirt with you.” His ears turn cherry red while he tries to hide his very real embarrassment.

“You did run away from me for like a solid week after we met the first time if you remember,” you tease, making his eyebrows raise in challenge. You weren’t supposed to roast him too.

“I guess we’re even then aren’t we?” He counters, smirking when you scoff, wrapping his arm around you so you can’t move away like you try to in fake protest.

Your legs end up draped over the tops of his thighs, fitting snug into his side. The warmth of his body makes your eyelids droopy. The cedar undertones he always carries calms all of your nerves.

“She was beautiful Steve,” you whisper, playing with the chain that dangles off his neck before looking up at him with a smile, “And maybe even a little too cool for you if I dare say.” It’s genuine when it comes out of your mouth, no hidden insecurities, an understanding that he wasn’t settling for you and it makes Steve want to kiss you even more. 

“She would have thought you were way too cool for me too.” He laughs, tracing the side of your face with his fingertips. You want to look away from the intensity of it all but you force yourself to hold his stare, keeping yourself open for him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that was shared tonight really sink in. That stray you missed so much makes an appearance and you finally get to be the one that pushes it back, and his hair is just as soft as you imagined.

“What are you doing on the fourth, pretty girl?” The new nickname makes you shift in your seat, the hint of a smug smirk begs to break across his face when he catches it. Maybe he’s still got it.

“Nothing, I got the day off.” You hate that his question is enough to make you shy.

It’s too hard to hold his gaze this time, but he doesn’t let that slide. His fingers hook under your chin to tilt your eyes back up to his. Noses brushing, your lips just inches apart like this.

“Be my date to the block party?” He whispers, whiskey and tobacco still lingering on his breath. 

You smile, nudging your nose against his in a dare.

“I’d love to Steve.” His name comes out around strawberry chapstick lips, they brush with his feeling like velvet and it makes his nostrils flare.

He dips his head with a groan kissing the corner of mouth instead, before placing one on both your cheeks and another, a lingering one, against your forehead. 

“In honor of not doing things backwards, I’m going to wait until I’ve taken you out. The way it should happen. The way someone like you deserves.”

Steve wants to make you feel special too.

It's hard for you to feel rejected with his reasoning and seeing the clock on your stove read in bright red numbers - 2:46am. The fourth was only three days away now.

You play it off with a roll of your eyes and a dramatic “fine” that makes him really laugh for the first time all night, giving you another kiss on the cheek. This one a little wet. He can’t get enough of the way you can’t look at him after.

It’s another thirty minutes before he decides it’s time to go home when your yawn is too loud to hide and your head presses harder into his chest. He wishes he could stay, and one night he knows he will.

You both linger in the doorway with fingers wrapped up tight, neither one of you ready to let go. He just wants to stare at you, but he knows the alarm stuffed in his pocket is going to make his life miserable in three hours.

Instead, he gives you another kiss on the forehead telling you he’ll text in the morning, and he wishes he could have a picture of the smile you give him when you promise to text back.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

older!steve edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

🌇 -> chapter eight

[thetriumphantpanda]

close to you | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Nine

Chapter Summary | A week of not hearing from Javi since he ran out has you tearing your hair out, so you throw yourself into your work as a distraction, with catastrophic consequences.

Chapter Warnings | mentions of drugs and the drug trade, alcohol consumption, threatening language, violence, blood, descriptions of a head injury and concussion, Javier Peña to the rescue, soft!Javi.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | I am forever appreciative of how patient you guys are for updates of this series! Thank you for hanging in there whilst my muse and creativity ebbs and flows, I love you all! We're getting towards the conclusion of this little story, with only a few chapters left so I hope you guys are still enjoying this! If you are enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

You wonder when staring at the work in front of you might actually yield something worth writing about. It’s all you’ve done since you picked up this stupid story and decided to chase it. Staring at the pages on your desk has become all the more common in the week since Javi ran out on you. He’s avoided your calls to his phone, you’ve not seen him around town, and the one time you decided to call the house, Chucho answered and with the most sincere voice you’d ever heard, told you he wasn’t in but that he promised he’d ask him to call you when he got back. That had been two days ago, so you’d practically given up all hope of ever hearing from him again.

For the first couple of days, you’d cursed yourself, wondering why you’d kept any of that stuff in the first place. Newspaper clippings and annotated notes about everything he and his team had done in Colombia. You didn’t need it anymore, thesis done, completed, and with a better mark than you could ever have hoped for. But until you’d seen him in the flesh, knew he was back for good and safe in Texas, it was the only way to feel close to him. Stupid for sure. But then the anger had set in - he’d no right to rifle through your drawers, pick up your notebooks and thumb through them. The barrage of different emotions was hard to deal with, and at the very base level, you missed him, you wanted him back, and you wanted to explain everything to him - that’s incredibly hard when he won’t answer his fucking phone though.

Turning your attention back to your work, you try and focus. You’ve met dead end after dead end with this stupid story and there really is only one place left for you to go. If it’s not Tyler then it has to be someone else in the family that’s involved. You can’t imagine it’s head of the family, so that really only leaves Tyler’s brother. It might be stupid and you might make a terrible enemy out of the mayor’s family, but there’s something else going on here and whatever it is, you’re going to get to the bottom of it, no matter how.

You can still never get over the size of the Johnson family home. Richard and his wife had two sons, one their pride, the other, not so much, but if you looked at their house, you’d think they had at least twelve children. No family needed this many rooms, you think, as you walk up the driveway.

It’s the early afternoon and you can see Garrett’s car parked in front of the house. Tyler will be at work, as will Richard, and you’re pretty sure their mother is never at home. You don’t really know what it is she does, but it’s some form of charitable work that involves travelling more than it does time at home.

You take a deep breath and ring the bell, waiting the appropriate amount of time before ringing it again. It’s a huge house after all, it must take a while to get from anywhere to the front door. A few seconds later, the door opens, and Garrett is stood in front of you, dressed in dress pants and a shirt that has the arms rolled up to the elbows. He smiles at you and opens the door a bit wider, invites you in - it’s much warmed than the reception you got from his brother.

“Lovely to see you,” He smiles, guiding you through the foyer and into the kitchen, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Water would be great, thank you.” You smile back, waiting for him to put a glass in front of you, topped up with water and fresh ice.

“I assume you’re here from the paper?” He asks, leaning cooly against the kitchen counter.

“That’s right,” You nod, sipping at the water, “Has Tyler spoken to you recently?”

Garrett shakes his head, “No, I haven’t seen him in a few weeks actually.”

You hum, nodding your head, thankful that you have the upper hand of surprise still - that this part of the family don’t know you’re sniffing around looking for a reason that one of their houses was used as some form of drug den.

“How have you been since Dylan died?” You ask, “I know you were really good friends.”

It’s a question that makes sense, they were very good friends, and although it’s been a while, you’re hoping your feigned concern for his mental welfare might make him open up.

“It’s been hard,” He starts, “He was my best friend, and to suddenly not have him around anymore…” He trails off, “I miss him.”

You nod, hoping the look of concern you think you’ve got across your face is projecting enough to make him feel like he can trust you.

“Was he the reason your dad has started being heavier with drugs in town?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Garrett nods, “He saw how fucked up it made me to lose my friend and decided enough was enough, that someone needed to do something to fix the trouble we’ve been having in town for years.”

There’s another nod from you, “Makes sense,” You offer, “Not really working very well though, is it?”

“These things take time.” He offers, in that perfectly practiced politician way that they always answer things.

“Look, I’m gonna cut to the chase Garrett,” You sigh, “That house in town that got raided recently? We’ve been looking into it and it all leads back to you, to your family, and it doesn’t matter who I ask, no-one knows why that place was being used as a drug den, but someone in this family knows exactly why.”

Garrett scoffs, “You’ll want to talk to my brother about that.”

“Well, that’s the thing Garrett,” You speak, “I did, and that man is clean as a whistle, he hasn’t taken drugs in at least a year, and the last time he was at the house, it was clear of anything,” You shrug, “I can’t imagine your dad being involved in anything like this, so that just leaves you.”

You can see his demeanour change almost immediately, he’s uncomfortable, moving from foot to foot and you can see the start of perspiration on his forehead.

“You’re telling me you think I’m involved in something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

He pushes himself from the counter he’s been leaning against, takes a few steps towards you, trying to intimidate you, but you know you’re pushing in the right direction, he wouldn’t be reacting like this if you were barking up the wrong tree.

“Where’s your evidence?” He asks.

“Maybe you’ll have to buy the paper to find out?”

“Listen here you little bitch,” He spits, pointing his finger in your face, “You ought to be careful about this, you think this is just me?” He asks, stepping even closer to you, making your breath catch in your throat, “You think you publish this story and it’ll just be me you have to worry about? You’re dead wrong, publish whatever story you’re planning and you’ll have a rain of fucking fire to deal with from people you don’t want to get on the wrong side of.”

“So, it was you then?” You can help but smirk, having caught him redhanded in a confession, the recorder in your bag that you’d pressed on before he’d answered the door your little secret.

You watch some kind of fury flick over his eyes as he grits his teeth, his hands pressed into your shoulders to push you back, “Stupid little girl.” He says as he pushes, but it’s a lot harder than you’d anticipated and it makes you lose your balance, falling backward.

It all happens in a blur, the side of your head makes contact with the corner of the kitchen island, pain spreading almost immediately across your forehead, vision blurring as your backside hits the floor. You’re sort of aware of something warm and wet dripping down your cheek, which you brush away with the back of your hand as you try and quickly reorientate yourself. Then you feel a hand wrap around your arm and a presence next to you, not quite all there enough to push it away.

“Oh shit,” You hear Garrett speak next to you, “Shit, shit shit,” He’s touching your face now, “I'm sorry, I- oh god - I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”

You groan, letting your head tip back against the cool marble of the kitchen island, “Am I-” You struggle to speak, “Am I bleeding?”

“Oh god-” Garrett mutters, “I’m going to be sick.”

And then he’s gone, the sound of his shoes clipping against the floor as he runs to God knows where, leaving you disorientated and bleeding on his kitchen floor. You know you need to get out of here, slowly moving yourself just enough to push yourself to your feet, hands gripping the counter as you reach for your bag. You’re dizzy as you walk towards the door, looking down at the floor because as soon as you look up, you feel like you’re going to throw up and pass out. You can see yourself leaving small drops of blood on the floor as you move - a trail that follows you all the way down the driveway and to your car. You fumble with your keys, dropping them on the floor. When you bend over to try and pick them up, your vision goes fuzzy before you can grab them from the ground. You know you can’t drive like this.

In the haze of confusion you look around, a little way down the street you spot a phone box. It’s slow going, but you make it, pulling open the door, leaning against the glass wall, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and ease the ache behind your eyes. You shuffle through your bag to find your wallet, pulling out a handful of coins that you push into the slot. You think about phoning your father, but realise there’s only one person you want right now. Despite having his number memorised, you pull the worn card from your wallet, mainly to make sure that the haze of confusion doesn’t make you dial the wrong number. You drag your thumb over the faded number, watching a smear of blood cover it, and then press the number into the dialling pad, listening to it start to ring.

“Please Javi,” You whisper, “Please answer.”

You’re about to lose hope, expecting the phone to ring out, but through some form of divine intervention, the ringing stops and you hear the voice you’ve craved all week.

“Peña?”

“Oh Javi,” You sigh out in relief, feeling the prick of tears behind your eyes, “Help me.”

“Cariño?”

“Javi please, I need you.”

“What’s happened?” You can hear his tone change, concern and something else you can’t quite place, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, I just-” The ache behind your eyes is making you tired, “I need you to come and get me.”

“Has something happened?”

“Yes,” You reply, “I’m so tired Javi, I can’t drive.”

“Where are you?”

“The mayor’s house,” You reply, “Well- no - I'm in the phone box down the road.”

“You stay right there, okay?” He’s frantic on the other end of the phone, you can tell.

“Please hurry.”

He’s beside himself as he drives from the ranch and into town. A week of avoiding you, of avoiding his feelings towards you, and you’re hurt. He still can’t think about what happened. He doesn’t even know why he’d answered the phone this time - he’d avoided answering anything that had come through on his phone since he’d run out on you before, but there’s something today that made him pick up, and by God is he pleased he did. He doesn’t think he could have lived with himself if he’d let you call and left you hurt and injured in the middle of nowhere.

He thinks of all the other women throughout his life that he's let down. Lorraine and the way he left her, Helena and the way she risked herself for him, for the promise of a fucking visa, and paid the price. Most women in his life ended up hurt, emotionally or physically, and it was becoming evident to him that you were no different.

Not knowing, and not caring about how many speed restrictions he breaks, he makes it to the phone box in record time, cutting the engine and slamming the door behind him. He takes four or five big steps to the phone box, tearing open the door to find you slumped on the floor, eyes fluttering open at the disturbance. He takes a deep breath, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“Cariño, it’s me,” He speaks softly, “Can you hear me?”

He takes your face in his hands, turns it towards the quickly fading light, finding the cut on your forehead. The blood has dried and scabbed over, but there’s a trail of crusting blood down your cheek and side of your neck. He thinks of Helena in this moment, about draping his jacket over her naked body, cradling her to his body, reluctantly handing her over to a paramedic, not knowing what would come of her.

“Javi?” Your voice is quiet, but your eyes are looking at him, glassed over, but at least you recognise him.

“That’s me,” He speaks softly, “Are you okay?”

“Tired,” You mumble, and then you shake your head in his hands, “Head hurts.”

“Shall we move you?” He asks, knowing he can’t leave you here, “Come here.”

Letting go of your face, he runs his palms down your arms to where your hands are clasped together. He gently pries open your fingers and takes hold of the card there, holding it up. It’s the card he’d given you with his number on, edges torn and worn. He can clearly see where you've run your fingers over the printed text, and where it's sat in your purse, pulled out and slotted bacon whenever you've needed him. He tries to take it, but your hand clasps over it again.

“Don’t,” You whisper, “It’s mine, don’t take it.”

“It’s okay, Cariño,” He replies, “I’ll keep it safe, just let me have it whilst we get you into the car.”

“My keys,” You mumble as he stands up, leaning down despite the protest of his knees and his back, “I dropped them.”

He’s scooping you up, not quite able to carry you, but able to lean you against his side to walk you to the passenger side of his truck.

“Where did you drop them?” He asks, settling you into the passenger seat, leaning across you to clip your seatbelt in.

“My car-” Your head lolls to the side, eyes hooded as you look at him, “On the ground.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, shutting the door gently. He finds your keys on the ground by your car, and then after checking that the doors are still locked, he shoves the keys into his pocket and focuses his attention back to you.

The drive out of town is slower, Javi conscious that he doesn’t want to jostle you too much. Each corner he turns makes you groan. He had considered taking you to your own home, but he decides instead to take you back to the ranch. He pulls up, noticing the lights on in the living room. He knows he’s going to have questions from his father, but he doesn’t worry about that, instead he focuses on getting you out of the truck and into the house.

There’s a look from Chucho when he bursts through the front door, but Javi gives him a clipped shake of his head and instead walks you up the stairs and into his room. He sits you down on the side of the bed, kissing your forehead as he grabs some supplies from his bathroom - a warm, damp washcloth and his bag of first aid supplies, put together by Chucho when he’d come back to the ranch - his dad not convinced he wouldn’t injure himself with the manual labour.

“Hey, cariño?” He speaks softly, on his knees in front of you, “Look at me?”

You do, but your eyes are barely open. He works quickly, wiping away the crusted blood from your face first before he turns his attention to the actual cut. Once he’s cleaned it a little, he can see it’s not as deep as he’d anticipated. He brushes it with an antiseptic wipe, soothing you when it stings enough to make you gasp, and then covers it with a small plaster.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble as he eases you back on the bed, head down on his pillows.

“What for?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair from your face.

“Scaring you off.”

“Oh hermosa,” He breathes, feeling guilt pool in his stomach, nut not ready to quite face the conversation of what really made him run that night, “I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

He listens to you groan in approval, moving your body to get a little more comfortable.

“What happened today?” He asks quietly, trying to keep you awake so he knows who did this to you.

“Went to the house,” You speak, punctuated with a yawn, “Asked Garrett about the house.”

It’s almost like you get a second wind, trying to sit up, but he knows you need to stay still, so he gently pushes you back down.

“It’s him Javi,” You groan, “He’s the one dealing the drugs.”

“Shhhhh,” It’s the only thing he can think to do, “Just rest, cariño, we can talk later.”

Javi sits there for longer than he needs. You’re softly snoring within minutes, but he still sits there to make sure you’re out for the count. When he’s sure you’re settled and still breathing, he heads downstairs, ignoring his father’s knowing look as he pours himself a generous amount of whiskey.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Javi shrugs, “I’m not sure,” He answers honestly, “It’s new.”

“Not that new,” Chucho huffs, “You were always shit at sneaking around,” He picks up his own drink, “Saw you after my birthday.”

Javi tips his head back and can’t help but chuckle because it’s true, he was never good at keeping things from his dad. He just hopes you’ve both done a better job at keeping things from your parents.

“You know what you’re doing with her?”

It’s a question he doesn’t really know how to answer, mulling over the answer in his mind before he lets his mouth speak.

“I just know I want to keep her safe,” He speaks, “And that I think I might love her.”

Javi watches as Chucho’s mouth grows into a smile, a small nod given in his direction.

“Will she be okay?”

Javi nods, “I think so yes, hit her head pretty hard, but I think after she’s slept she’ll be okay.”

Chucho pushes himself from his chair, draining his almost-empty cup. He puts it in the sink and then puts a warm hand on Javi’s shoulder with a squeeze.

“I just want you to be happy, finally,” He says, “That’s all that matters.”

Javi watches as he walks away, off to his room to sleep, and speaks into the silence of the empty kitchen once he’s gone, “Thanks, dad.”

[redroomreflections]

Just A Check In

Natasha Romanoff xfem!reader

The Loud House universe - available on a03

Summary: R and Nat talk about divorce and what their lives look like now

note: Idk what this is fr I just wanted to write it

This is about 3 years in the future from the actual timeline.

The kitchen is quiet, a gentle hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of dishes in the sink are the only sounds breaking the peace. You and Natasha are in one of those rare moments of solitude, settled into your domestic routine.

You sit on the kitchen counter, your legs dangling over the edge, a pile of mail spread out before you. You sift through it with a relaxed focus, your eyes skimming the envelopes and papers, while Natasha, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea in hand, vents her frustrations.

“Charlie was just—” Natasha begins, her voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “She gave me such attitude this week. I thought that was something we’d have to deal with when she’s a teenager, not now.”

You nod and hum your agreement, sorting the pile of letters into bills, junk, and others. The first pile is already quite large and will be a pain in the ass to sort through. You mentally remind yourself to look over the online bill payment settings again, as you have for the past month or so, to see if there are any new updates or if anything is still glitch.

As Natasha continues to recount Charlie’s most recent bout of rebellion, you can't help but grin, knowing exactly how your wife feels.

"She is a preteen. 11 years old is a pretty big deal," You offer her. You look up, catching Natasha’s gaze with a knowing smile. “You mean you don't like the whole ‘don’t tell me what to do’ thing?”

"I definitely don't," Natasha groaned. "It's almost like everything I say goes in one ear and out the other. And the whole smart mouth thing..."

"Well, when she was younger you told me not to scold her on it," You shrugged. "Remember when there was a time I was the one that was too strict."

"Yeah, yeah, but this is different. She's starting to get mouthy with me, and it's not cute anymore."

"I know, babe."

Natasha huffed and leaned forward, placing her mug down next to you. "I want to ground her for life."

You barked out a laugh, reaching a hand forward to squeeze Natasha's shoulder. "Babe, no."

"She's lucky she's cute," Natasha muttered, turning back to grab her tea. "Even though it's wearing off."

You smiled and shook your head, turning back to the mail.

"Speaking of teenagers, what happened with Cara? She's been out a bit late these days." Natasha asked.

"She's eighteen," You remind her. "She has her own curfew. We don't have to worry about her as much. Taking a year off to figure out what she wants to do with school hasn't been easy on her."

"Yeah, you're right," Natasha sighed.

She was quiet for a moment, and you heard the gentle scrape of the wooden spoon against the ceramic mug as she stirred her tea.

"So... I guess what I'm saying is I don't like having to parent my daughter," Natasha finally spoke up. "And I'm tired of Charlie and her attitude. It's getting exhausting."

"Oh, really?" You replied, looking up. You caught her gaze and grinned, tilting your head to the side. "What about your wife? You can't handle her either?"

Natasha chuckled. "Oh, I can definitely handle my wife."

"Yeah, well, that's good, " You looked into her eyes. "Charlie will get better. Give her time and talk to her more. Let her know you're there."

"Why doesn't she hate you?"

"I'm the cool mom," You shrugged. "It's practically a crime. Plus, Cara took me through the ringer so I guess it's high time you receive that."

Natasha pouted. "Not fair."

"It is," You chuckled. "But seriously, it'll all get better. Kids go through changes. We can't expect her to stay the same sweet little girl forever. But the good news is, when we get to the worst of it, we can always give her to my mom."

Natasha let out a chuckle and nodded. "Alright, I'll hold you to that."

You smiled and turned back to the mail. After a moment, Natasha began to stir her tea once more. You check your phone, deciding to check your messages when you find one from Denise. One of your mutual friends from college is divorcing her husband.

"Oooh, Denise says Jude and Nadine are getting divorced," You say, looking up.

Natasha raises a brow. "Oh? Why?"

"Apparently he was sleeping with her friend," You replied, reading the message. "Oh, wait, I forgot to tell you."

"About?"

"The friend's pregnant."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll show you the messages," You said, putting the phone down. "That's insane to me. They've been married just as long as you and I have."

Natasha scoffed. "People can have a long marriage and still cheat."

"True," You agreed. "But they were really happy. I thought they were going to last forever."

"Well, not everybody gets lucky," Natasha said.

"That scares me a little," You admit. "I know we're solid but..."

"But?"

"Well, a lot of my friends are starting to split, and... it's weird," You said. "I mean, you remember our first few years. We didn't have the best luck either. Now, we're deeper into it. It's so much easier to get into a routine. We are just as busy if not busier than when we moved into the house. The kids take up most of our time. We don't even have sex like we used to. We're almost on a schedule these days and..."

"And?"

"We can't be that couple," You sighed.

Natasha smiled and leaned in, her lips ghosting over yours. "We are not like that."

You raised a brow. "Are you sure? Because the last time we were really spontaneous was... actually I can't think of a time."

"It's not a big deal, right? As long as we make time for us." Natasha paused. "You're really afraid? Did that message prompt this or was this something you've been thinking of a long time?"

You bit your lip, shrugging. "I'm not sure. I guess it's been building up."

Natasha leaned forward, her fingers brushing the strands of hair out of your face. She pressed her lips against yours, her hand falling to your neck. You closed your eyes, your hands finding her waist.

Natasha's kisses grew in intensity, her tongue sliding into your mouth. Your breath caught in your throat, and you found yourself moaning against her lips.

"Fuck, Nat," You groaned.

Natasha chuckled, pulling back. She placed a few chaste kisses against your lips, then pulled back completely, a satisfied grin on her face.

"Better?" She asked.

"Hmm," You nodded, smiling. "Yes, but I don't know if that eases my worries."

"We are fine," Natasha promised. "I'm glad you're telling me this right now. If it's something you're worried about we can work on it. My parents don't plan on moving out anytime soon. Trust me I've asked. Maybe we can utilize them a bit more." She rested her hand on your bare thigh. "We're just as solid as when we first started. Even more so. We are not the same people we were fifteen years ago. I promise, baby. We are not like them."

You smile, the warmth of her words and touch seeping into your body. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"No, you're not. It's okay," Natasha chuckled. "I'm not angry or upset. I want us to have these talks and check in with each other. As for the sex, when we do have sex, I'm just as satisfied now than back then."

"I can't believe you just used that term," You laughed. "Back then."

"It's true," Natasha argued. "Do you feel the same?"

You nod, a grin forming on your face. "I think my libido has grown as I've gotten older. As if that's even possible."

"What I'm hearing is I'm not taking care of you," Natasha moved to stand between your legs. She placed her hand on your knee, rubbing gentle circles against the skin.

"That's not what I meant," You insisted.

"Sure it's not," Natasha grinned. "Maybe I need to remind you just how good I can make you feel."

"Yeah?" You smirked, your arms wrapping around her neck. "Prove it."

"With pleasure."

Natasha pressed her lips against yours once more, her hands sliding up and down your thighs. She squeezed and massaged the skin, her lips molding with yours.

Your hands slid down her back, resting at the hem of her shirt. You pulled her closer, your tongues meeting in a passionate embrace.

Natasha pulled back, a low groan rumbling from her chest. "Fuck."

"What?"

"Luke."

"What?"

Natasha stepped back, holding a finger to her lips so you could be quiet. Sure enough, you heard the heavy footsteps of your four-and-a-half-year-old along with the scraping of dog nails. Luke walked into the kitchen sleepily, his hands holding gently to Midnight's fur, as he looked between the two of you.

"Can I have a drink?" He asked.

"Of course, sweetie," You answered.

"Do you want some juice?" Natasha asked.

Luke nodded, his eyes drifting shut. "Apple please."

"Okay, sit down, and I'll get you a glass," Natasha said, moving to grab the juice out of the fridge.

Luke stumbled to the table, and Midnight followed, plopping down beside him.

"We will finish this I promise," Natasha leaned over to quickly peck your lips.

You grinned, nodding. "I'll hold you to it."

[thatoneurchin]

Actually genuinely so obsessed with your writing and how you characterize the Yellowjackets girls- absolutely no pressure at all, but I was wondering if you have any updates on Porcelain or Drunk Walk Home?

Or literally just any rambly thoughts on JackieNat or JackieShauna because again- obsessed with your characterization and thoughts on them

(The day you update Drunk Walk Home is the day I drop everything, call in sick, cancel doctors appointments, drive my car right off the road to start reading)

Thank u! New porcelain update hopefully later this week. DWH will be updated, it’s just 3rd on the list right now. Porcelain is #1. Another YJ fic I have (you are the country i bloody the hills for) only has 2 chapters left, and I’d like to finish it so that’s #2. But I do have an outline for DWH and it is on my mind.

Ramblings under the cut

Jackieshauna: so one thing that interests me with them is the “i don’t know where you end and I begin” quote. I think both of them project on each other in a way. Jackie has this love (possibly also codependency) with Shauna where she wants to stay as close as they were as kids forever. To her, it would be great to go to the same college, stay in the same room, etc. so she doesn’t feel a need to ask Shauna about it. If it’s a no-brainer for her, then it’s a no-brainer for Shauna. Meanwhile Shauna has a lot of anger and resentment, so she assumes Jackie has it too and that her actions are malicious, when they might not be. They both fail to see the other fully. It’s more like they see each other but with a big piece of themselves inside. And that’s part of the tragedy to it. I think if Jackie saw Shauna fully, she might be able to be more attentive, and if Shauna saw Jackie fully, she might be able to be more forgiving… but ofc that opportunity is dead and gone.

Jackienat: their dynamic in my fics is honestly just based off of Doomcoming + the two scenes where Nat mentions jealousy in relation to Jackie.

Doomcoming is interesting to me cause they were mostly at odds all season, but when it came down to a life or death situation it turned out they have more in common than they think morally. We see Lottie/Shauna work in tandem in a murdery way, while Nat/Jackie work in tandem to put an end to it. They’re the only ones to take issue with Travis’ SA, only ones to try and stop the hunt, and the only ones to openly oppose the wilderness cult/woo woo so strongly afterwards. Jackie’s refusal of the bear meat actually reminds me a lot of teen Nat in S2 pushing against Lottie. I think they’re alike in a way that is very subtle and neither of them realize due to their more glaring differences. That’s why I like writing slow burns for them. I think it’d take them a while to get there emotionally.

The other thing is the concept of jealousy with them. It’s obvious why Nat would be jealous of Jackie, who’s well-off with a seemingly good home life, but I also think Jackie is jealous of Nat back. Nat is someone who (at least seemingly) is comfy being alone, while Jackie has always been part of a pair, and Nat is able to unashamedly enjoy sex, while Jackie has a million reservations about it. I think they could balance each other out in a way. Nat isn’t used to having someone by her side to be kind/support her, but being by someone’s side is basically all Jackie knows how to do. Jackie needs someone to show her the ropes sexually without pressure/shame (which is also why I like starting them as fwb in fics) and help expand her worldview past constantly caring what everyone else thinks. There’s a foundation for them both to improve each other imo

[doodlingbiscuit]

Hide N' Seek

This sprouted up from a childhood habit that I did when I was feeling really bad. I feel like how terrifying the turtles could be to the reader isn't touched on enough. The turtles would actually scare the heck out of me if I'm being honest. This Raph also holds a place in my heart, Enjoy!! <33

Bayverse!Raph x Reader - Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2,506

Warnings: None

The day had seemed to go on forever and you were beyond grateful when the clock finally ticked to 5 pm. You rushed out of the office and after a thankfully uneventful commute home, you popped some leftovers into the microwave, with your leg now bouncing in anticipation of doing something. You mulled over your choices, using the dull hum of the microwave as white noise. 

There were plenty of things to occupy your time; New York had its fair share of things to do, along with your long list of neglected chores. But… it's been a while since you’ve seen Raph and the other turtles so chores could wait one more day. You hadn’t seen them in a while and it’d be good to break up the droning schedule of only going to and from work. Scarfing down a quick dinner and you were out of the house in minutes. 

The lair was… uncharacteristically quiet. 

Curious, you made your way further into the space to see if they had left a note about where they had gone. They left their fair share of notes, which had evolved into them putting a permanent bulletin board up in the kitchen. You all had decided to keep it updated when the turtles would be gone for an extended amount of time. Per Donnie’s advice, it wasn’t a good idea for the brothers to text that they were leaving the lair undefended. Texting could easily be hacked and well… that was that. Squinting at the board, sure enough, you see in Leo’s scrawling handwriting that they would be out for a few hours. 

You flopped down onto the couch and made yourself at home, dragging a blanket off of the back of the couch to fend off the chill of the lair. You go through the motions of playing on your phone, doodling, and looking at your phone again. The hours had begun to take a toll on you and your eyelids had grown heavy. You start to wonder if they’re even going to be back tonight. 

“You never listen!”

You sit up a little straighter, immediately recognizing Leo’s voice. 

“I never listen?!” Raph lets out an incredulous laugh. “How about you never listening to your team!” 

Cold dread spilled into your stomach, fingers gripping a little tighter onto your phone. You hated it when any of the brothers fought, but it always seemed to be worse with Leo and Raph. 

You sunk deeper into the couch as you heard them getting closer. You knew in your heart Raph meant well, but more often than not, his anger would get the better of him. These outbursts would make it impossible to have a productive conversation with him. Raph was working on controlling his temper in your relationship, but Leo obviously wasn't granted the same sympathy. 

 Glancing towards the entrance, you spot Donnie and Mikey coming in first. 

You gave them both a sympathetic look; you knew that they hated it when their brothers fought with each other. They both shot you a sympathetic look in return, knowing you would have to deal with Raph after his outburst. 

“I just- I can’t deal with this right now, I’ve got more important things to concern myself with.” “Yeah, sure, go concern yourself with something better than your own brother.” Raph huffs out, shrugging off some of his gear onto the kitchen table. 

You get off of the couch and warily make your way into the kitchen area.

“Raph, can we-” Your face must’ve given away your displeasure with the current situation because Raph immediately took it as something against him. “Oh, so you’re on his side too!”

“Why does it always have to be about picking sides?!”

“‘Cause it feels like nobody ever is on mine!”

“I am on your side!” You tell him empathetically. 

“Then fucking act like it!” He slams his hand into the kitchen counter, leaving a huge dent in the side of it. 

Your eyes flicker towards the counter, a painful reminder of how strong the mutants were compared to you. 

Usually, you found his strength endearing; using it to protect the ones he cared about, but now you were unfortunately on the other end, where he could very easily use that strength against you. 

You feel the tears start to sprout up in the corners of your eyes and you try in vain to swallow the painful lump in your throat. 

Crying would get you nowhere.

“You can’t just start hitting things and then think you won!” Your voice cracks, “Use your words!” 

He walks over to you, pushing into your space, and forces you to walk backward until your back hits the wall. 

Raph was taller than you by about a foot. You’ve always known that Raph was bigger than you, that was obvious enough, but he had never used his size to intimidate you like this. 

He lets out an animalistic growl before speaking. “My ability to hit fast and hit hard is what this team needs me for and I’ve solved plenty of problems before just by knocking ‘em out.”

He slams his hands into the wall about your head, the vibrations traveling down the wall into your body.

“I don’t need them, I don't need your bickering and I certainly don’t need you!”

You scrunch up your face in anger at his outburst. Tears are threatening to fall from your eyes and it takes all you have in you to not let them. 

He stands there for a moment, chest heaving in and out. You stare back up at him in anger. His eyes dart back and forth between yours before shoving himself off the wall with a grunt. Cracking his knuckles, he stalks away heading towards his room. 

As soon as he’s out of sight, you push yourself off the wall. A few tears escape from your eyes and you drag a haphazard hand across your face to brush them off. 

You let out a growl of frustration, mad at Raph and mad at yourself for crying. 

It was so fucking embarrassing. 

You storm over to the couch, snatching up your backpack; you had brought stuff over to spend the night and now you just felt stupid. You stuffed your blanket from the couch into your bag. You ripped your earbuds out of your bag, shoving them into your ears. 

The trip home was a blur. 

You caught the subway home, trying in vain not to look like you were just crying your eyes out. Once you finally make it to your apartment, you shove through your door, tossing your backpack to the ground.

You were still reeling after the fight with Raph. Fuck. Him. 

A sob escapes your throat and you dig the palms of your hand into your eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. 

You just needed somewhere to hide, you just felt too exposed out in the living room. Walking into your room, you head straight for the closet, shoving aside the hanging shirts and make a little alcove for yourself in the closet. Nudging the door shut with a foot, making everything go pitch black. 

The tears start flowing out of your eyes as your fight sinks into you fully. 

He doesn’t need me?

Choked breaths come in and out of you and you can’t seem to get enough air in. 

You sit there for an undetermined amount of time, letting the calmness of being alone sink into you. Your playlists play on a loop and there's comfort in the songs you know by heart. After a while, your tears have dried and there's an uncomfortable feeling in your throat but you’re too lazy to go soothe it with water so you sit there numbly, still pushed up against the closet wall. 

There’s a knock from outside; a dull echo on the glass window of your apartment. You take out one of your earbuds as you strain to listen, almost brushing it off as something you misheard from your song. The knock comes again and you’re certain it was coming from your balcony. The turtles often came over to your house and instead of risking being seen, they came in through your balcony. 

Though today, you weren’t in any mood to go up and let them in formally, wishing that they would get the message and go away. It’s not like you exactly looked very presentable after crying for two hours. 

“(Y/N)?” A gruff voice sounded from outside. 

Your heart started beating fast. 

It was Raph.

“(Y/N)? Let me in, I wanna talk.” 

God, why’d it have to be him? 

You were still mad at him and if you were being honest, a little afraid of him too. You shoved yourself farther into the closet, trying to be completely still. 

The balcony door slides open and his footsteps start to pad around the room. 

You keep silent as you listen to him walk around, trying to calm your racing heart. Raph walks to the kitchen and then to the living room.

He calls out your name again. “Where are you?” 

You hope he’ll just leave you in peace and let you come to him on your own terms, you didn’t exactly want him to find you hiding in the closet. The closet door creaks open. He peeks his head into the closet, his eyes glazing over the closet until he finds you. Raph looks at you for a moment and you quickly wipe away the tears still drying on your face. 

“Are you… hiding from me?” He breathes. 

Opening the door fully, he stands in the doorway. He’s so tall that his head grazes the top of the doorway. 

You look up at him with wide eyes, searching in his gaze for that anger you saw earlier today. You take time to find your voice. 

“No.” You lie. 

You can tell that he doesn’t believe it and guilt flashes across his face. 

“I deserve it, you know.” 

You immediately try to counteract his words, but he holds a hand up as he continues. 

“No, I do.”

You close your mouth. 

His eyes move down to the spot next to you and he gestures to it.

“Can I?” 

You silently nod up at him, still processing what you want to say to him. 

With some effort on his part, he slides next to you in the closet. He’s so much wider than you that he has to sit at an angle to be able to fit next to you. Raph groans with the effort of sitting down with his legs sitting outside the door of the closet. He keeps his eyes downcast on his hands wringing them together. 

“I-I’m sorry for how I reacted today,” His eyes flicker up to yours. “It wasn’t directed towards you, I just-” He takes a breath. “I get so angry sometimes and I get even angrier when I can acknowledge it’s over something so small. It snowballs into something worse.” 

“I know how that feels,” you whisper, “I get really angry too sometimes, for the stupidest of things,” You half-heartedly laugh. 

“Honestly, I need someone to keep me in check. It keeps me accountable and makes me think before I speak.” Your eyes flick up to him. “But I need someone who can get angry and acknowledge how they’re feeling without taking it out on someone else. I am your s/o. I want to be there for you, but I can’t do that if you scare me away. I am always willing to listen and try to help you through what you’re feeling.”

There’s a beat of silence as he processes your words. 

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. 

You scooch over until your head is leaning on his side. You take his hand into yours and slowly lace your fingers with his. His hand is so much bigger than yours and it makes you pause at the size difference. You stare at your entwined fingers. 

“I forgive you.” 

 His grip tightens on your fingers. Firm and reassuring. 

You two sit in silence, relishing in each other's company. 

Raph shifts a bit in his spot, trying in vain to cover up how uncomfortable he is in the cramped space. 

A half-hearted huff leaves you. “Cramped?”

He grunts a bit, “M’ fine.”

…

“...are you sure?” 

He lets out another grunt in affirmation.

You scoot a little bit forward, thrusting a foot forward and standing up in one fell swoop. Wobbling a bit as you stand, Raph by instinct, catches your hand in his and steadies you. Stepping out of the closet, you turn around and look at Raph as he gazes back up at you. 

Your head tilts slightly as you eye him in the closet space- he really did look huge. If you squint a bit, you would almost be able to see a blush forming across his cheeks as he avoids eye contact with you. 

“A little help here?”

And even though he was just asking for your help out of pure formality, you appreciated the sentiment. You offer a hand out to him and he takes it, but never actually puts any of his weight on it. Along with some help from the closet doorway, he rises to his full height once again.

He reaches over to flick on a lamp in the room, the light catching on the tear stains running down your cheek. Eyebrows scrunching together, his face sets into one of steely determination. 

“Stay.” Raph grunts it out lowly but softly before walking out of the room.

You stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to return. 

He clatters around in the kitchen for a bit, opening and closing cabinets. 

Curious, you tilt your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the cracked bedroom door, before you’re startled out of your thoughts as he walks back into the room. 

Raph’s eyes immediately cast onto the ground as he walks towards you, almost as if he was still afraid of scaring you off. He holds a glass of water and a wet rag in his hands. “Here.” He says, almost under his breath and hands you the glass of water. Pleasantly surprised that he remembered that your throat gets sore after crying for so long, you take a few sips as you look at the washcloth in his hand, wondering why he had it. 

Lifting the washcloth to your face, he waits for a nod from you before swiping it gently under your eyes, soothing the heat that had gathered there. You look up at him and catch the gentleness in which he regards you. You see none of that anger from before and the anger he did have was only directed at himself now. 

Raph was… complicated but then again so were you. Relationships were supposed to go both ways and you trusted him to hold up his part of the bargain. 

You could both work this out.

[cotc-terminal]

Clash of the Cubes - Challenge 4

“Welcome back everyone, to the Clash of the Cubes! Hopefully everyone’s excited for the next challenge, because I sure as heck am, heheheh!”

“Now you competitors are probably wondering… ‘hey awesome host what’s the next contest (please don’t torture us)’. Well, we have no time to waste! So may I present….”

Pulse pulls a lever, and a large gate opens, revealing a very treacherous and dangerous obstacle course.

“Yep, Your next challenge, handmade by yours truly, is to go through my ULTIMATE OBSTACLE COURSE OF DEADLY PROPORTIO-!!!“

“WHAT???”

A door you didn’t even know was a door slams open, and out comes...

“Oh hi Step!”

“You’re going to make your contestants go through THAT???”

“Relax, it’s not like they’re dead forever. We got a respawn pad here in the start!”

“It will still be very painful though! And a little traumatizing.”

“So what? It’s not like your challenges were that safe either. Your 4th challenge had my knife rain.”

“It was supposed to be a stupid puzzle!!! And- wait did you say that was you”

“…”

“…”

“…Aaaaanyyywaaaaayyy… Your challenge starts in three—”

“Nuh uh, I say that I will decide the challenge this time for the knives last time!”

“…You know what? Okay. Sure.”

“Wait really?”

“I haven’t thought of a fifth challenge yet, so you do it.”

“….Alright then, sweet!”

“Okay, contestants! So this time, I’ve been thinking that you gotta relieve some tension! Which is why your next challenge…”

“…Is to play Patty-Cake with your Blixers!”

“Patty-Cake? Really?”

“I mean it’s the only clapping game Nyazhi knows that isn’t from the Philippines.”

“Ah got it. But what if the two of them refuse, or if one of the pink guys attack?”

“Oh, dunno actually—”

“Knew you’d say that, so i got these.”

Pulse takes out some shock collars.

“wh- WAIT WHY DO YOU HAVE THESE ON THE GO???? And why are they all square shaped—”

“So if your Blixer refuses to cooperate, these shock collars will activate, knocking ‘em out for… 20? 30? Wait no, 30 years.”

“wait what”

“If that happens, what you must do instead is to tuck em in bed…. in the most ridiculous pose you can imagine”

“Now unlike the last 3 challenges, I’ll be upfront with how you get my Bonus Points. You gotta complete at least 3 rounds of Patty-Cake the quickest, or make the funniest pose ever.”

“With that said, you have 10 days. Let the challenge begin.”

“Goodluck contestants!”

(Skye/cube leangel’s card isnt updated here yet oops)

@lumhere @shaidai @orchuris @itzhosya @missmaydae @alionanight @dragongirl2k6 @acn97414 @mahoganystudios830 @pricklythepearcat @blockheadblog @nacora-najita

[ririban]

Hi, your comment about Seigi and Richard "but they did kinda become “canon” only in the latest update. In the sense that they finally decided to officially make their relationship a romantic one." Can you tell me how does it happen?

Sorry for the late reply! I don't get a lot of asks so I'm not in the habit of checking my inbox 😅

For anyone else reading this, there are a bunch of spoilers under this. So don't read on if you don't want to be spoiled.

It wasn't anything super dramatic or something along those lines, if that's what you were hoping for, but a very Etra like moment where they just... talked. They've both definitely been aware of each other's feelings for a couple of volumes now, but they weren't in an official romantic relationship until volume 13. It's also mentioned that they were both considering taking their relationship in that direction prior to the events of volume 11, and Richard had even asked Seigi “If we keep work and personal life separate, would you like to continue this relationship with me?” (this translation might not be accurate as my Japanese isn't very good so I relied on MTL quite a bit). It's also mentioned that Seigi knew what Richard was talking about here, but Jeff called at that moment and interrupted them. After this Seigi just... didn't respond. In volume 11 there was a scene where Seigi asked Richard to wait a bit longer and Richard responded that he's ready to wait a hundred years.

Back to volume 13, they had a conversation where Richard said that while they may have had a student-teacher like relationship in the past, they were equals at the present moment so Seigi shouldn't hesitate no matter how he wants to respond. So Seigi told him that he was scared. He'd been constantly improving himself during his time with Richard and had been showing his best self, all to make Richard happy. But he wasn't sure if he could continue growing at this pace. He feared he wouldn't be able to provide Richard with as much enjoyment as he had up to that point. Basically, he was worried about what comes after they get together. He was worried that a day would come where Richard is no longer able to see a future with him.

But Richard said that he's growing at the same pace as Seigi and that the future isn't infinite. And I'll just post a rough translation of the following bit (again, I don't actually know Japanese, so this may be incorrect):

“Seigi, life itself has no ‘second chance.’ There is no ‘future.’ Every living thing that is born will one day live out its life and leave this world. It’s not strange to be afraid of that—it’s a natural feeling. But trying to include my relationship with you in that fear doesn’t make sense. To be blunt, everything that begins will eventually end. Nothing lasts forever.” “…Not even diamonds?” “No, not even diamonds. Because their brilliance exists only in the gaze of those who behold them.” Thinking of the world’s most famous diamond tagline, Seigi smiled stiffly. Richard returned his smile, a gentle, soft expression. “And that’s precisely why I want to stay by your side. Even if the word ‘beauty’ one day belongs to someone or something else, I still want you to call me beautiful. I want to see what I look like in your eyes—eyes with gray hairs and wrinkles—when that day comes.” “…” "Even if, one day, diamonds were to turn to ash, or the powerful flames that flowed within molten lava cooled and hardened into fragile gray rock, I know you would cherish them still. I am certain of it. Because I, too, am confident that I will keep the brilliance of the diamond that is you within my eyes forever." "...I might turn into a boring guy really soon, you know." "Don’t worry. You’ve already entertained me more than a lifetime’s worth. Everything from here on is bonus time." "...Haha." This time, it was Seigi’s turn to laugh. He laughed quietly at first—haha, haha—then, just like Richard moments ago, crouched down and continued laughing. Richard gently placed a hand on Seigi’s trembling back and stroked it. "Seigi. The reason I find you so endearing is not because you constantly cherish me or make me happy. Nor is it because you are a living being who grows at a remarkable pace. I love you because you are you." "..." "Now and always." "...Me too." "I know." "...Yeah." Seigi let out a deep sigh and stood up. The groan of resignation that escaped his lips carried a faint sweetness, as though something was caught in his throat. Richard sensed it just as Seigi sniffled softly. With a composed expression, Richard tilted his head. "Is something the matter?" "Nah, just got something in my eye. Don’t mind me. Ah… you’re still as beautiful as ever. The most beautiful in the world. Sometimes it makes me want to cry." Seigi took a step closer to Richard and touched his cheek. Then, pressing his forehead against Richard’s collar, he let out another sigh. "You’re beautiful. Just your existence feels like the sun, shining down and lighting up my life." "It may be time to consider installing solar panels. This is the third or fourth time you’ve said that to me." "Sorry." "There’s no need to apologize. The sun always feels pleased when you praise it." Richard shrugged. Seigi raised his head, his expression somewhere between troubled and amused. "I’m truly happy to be able to share the same time with you. Even if the invisible amount of time we have left keeps shrinking, I’m so happy to be spending it with you. So happy it scares me sometimes, and I feel like running away. But… there aren’t many places left for me to run to anymore." "It seems that way." Seigi removed his hand from Richard’s cheek, took a step back, straightened his posture, and looked directly at the beautiful face in front of him. Then he spoke. "I want to stay by your side. Always. So… stay with me. Even if I turn into a wreck, promise you’ll stay. Even if it’s a lie." "Unfortunately, I’m all out of lies to tell you." Without either of them signaling the other, they wrapped their arms around each other, embracing tightly.

After this the scene moved to more plot relevant stuff which I'm not including here.

[welshoot]

Theory/Analysis of Malleus's Signature Spell and The Nature of Happy Endings

So, with the various information that’s been slowly coming as updates roll out, I’ve been thinking about the events of the Diasomnia chapter thus far, Malleus’s signature spell, and the nature of happy endings. For fear of spoilers, the rest of this is going to be under-the-cut, and, fair warning, it has spoilers for the Diasomnia chapter (both English and Japanese spoilers) and gets kind of long.

Alright, so Malleus has asserted that, via dreams, he is going to give everyone their happy endings and thus give them a perfect life they won’t want to live, right? In comes his signature spell, “Fae of Maleficence,” that puts everyone to sleep and seems to grant him some level of control over what they dream about. Supposedly, it makes everyone dream of a wonderful life where everything is just how they would want it. This supposed real happy ending is a sort of callback to the Twisted Wonderland slogan “Let us show you the real happily-ever-after” or “I’ll show you a real happy ending,” depending on the translation you look at. Now, I’ve already done an entire analysis of that slogan here, so we won’t get into that here. Instead, I’m more interested in whether or not Malleus can actually construct a dream where everyone has their ‘real’ happy ending.

The thing is, what makes a person happy is very subjective, and it can be very difficult or even impossible to tell what that thing will be. And, to make a long story short, I don’t think Malleus is omnipotent or all-knowing enough to be able to do that for the entirety of NRC, the cast of the game, or all of Sage Island, much less everyone in the world of Twisted Wonderland. Instead, I think the dreams people have are Malleus's best guess at what their version of happily-ever-after would look like.

Let’s look at Idia’s first, because right now that is quite possibly Malleus’s strongest one. In Idia’s dream, we see a world where Ortho didn’t die and is going to RSA. Idia is still housewarden, and the dream is taking place during the first day of the semester, when new freshmen are coming in and being placed in dorms.

Now, I’ll be honest, this is a good guess as to what Idia would want most. Bluntly put, Idia will forever regret what happened to the original Ortho because he is at fault for his little brother’s death, even if it was an honest mistake that was made when he was only a child. 

However, this dream does not account for some very simple facts. First, Idia is the way he is, largely because of what happened to Ortho. He would quite possibly be very different if Ortho hadn’t died the way he did. Second, what about the current Ortho? Say what you like, but Idia has been shown numerous times to genuinely love the robot, who is his little brother. Yes, he regrets what happened to his little brother, the OG Ortho, but he also loves his current little brother. In no way is Idia ever shown to hold himself back from Ortho because he genuinely views the Ortho we know, our Ortho, as his brother. The fact that our Ortho is a robot does not matter to Idia because, in Idia’s eyes, that’s his little brother just as much as OG Ortho was. 

Because of that, I don’t think Idia’s happy ending would remove the Ortho we know and love from his life, because I don’t think Idia wants that. In fact, it would quite likely be like losing yet another brother to Idia. And that is where the flaw in the dream Malleus has shown him is. Because, bluntly put, Malleus doesn’t know Idia well enough to realize any of this and has been shown to not entirely view Ortho as human. And that is fair. Ortho is technically not human, but even then, he is still Idia’s brother, who is as close to human as a robot as one can ever hope to reach. In fact, Ortho is a wonderful example of the entire argument about what really makes someone a ‘human’ because if it's a soul and emotions, then Ortho has those. He received them at the very end of Ignihyde, but that’s a discourse for another time.

Moving on, we have Epel’s dream and the ordeal that is buff Epel. This is currently the most amusing outcome of these supposed happy endings. From a totally cold, logical point of view, Epel has what he’s always wanted. He’s tall, he’s strong, both Savanaclaw and Pomefiore want him in their dorm, and the list goes on and on. But, when one looks at this dream Epel’s appearance, the problems become pretty obvious. Because, let’s be honest, there is no way Epel would ever want to look like that. The entire thing looks exactly like Malleus trying his best to give Epel what he wants while not thinking about how some adjustments need to be made in order for this particular happy ending to come true. Interestingly, it ought to be noted that Malleus has shown some curious insight into Epel, though, in that Epel still has his pretty face in this dream form. Because, as Epel has grown as a character, he seems to slowly be getting attached to the unique power that comes from being quite so cute. Specifically, that people will underestimate him, and he can use that to his advantage. Nonetheless, in Epel’s dream, just like in Idia’s, we see that the happy ending is flawed and shows that, if Malleus did engineer to keep people happy and not wanting to wake up, Malleus’s understanding of the characters is too flawed for him to make a flawlessly happy ending tailored perfectly to them.

Onwards to Rook! Much like with Epel and Idia’s dreams, this one has echoes of the truth. Rook would no doubt love for Neige and Vil to be friends, and it is incredibly interesting that, rather than being the quaffed Rook we know, dream Rook is rougher around the edges in terms of his appearance. However, there are glaring issues with this dream too, though. The thing is, Rook adores Vil the way he is, and even though he would love to see him befriend Neige, he knows it's wrong to try and force Vil’s hand. In fact, doing such a thing would mean changing Vil, which would lead to him not being the Vil that Rook knows and loves anymore. In many ways, the beauty that Rook sees in Vil is Vil’s ability to keep pushing himself even after a loss and the way Vil is constantly striving for greater heights. Making him friends with Neige would damage this, though, because Neige is one of the reasons Vil always pushes himself. He doesn’t want to fall behind and lose to Neige, so he constantly works to improve himself. So here, the flaw to the supposed happy ending is that Rook cannot have this dream and still have the Vil he loves and respects.

Finally, we have Vil’s dream, and this is one of the uglier examples. Vil’s dream is kind of messed up, after all. So we have a super popular Vil with Neige as Vil’s notably downtrodden assistant that Vil is bullying. As Vil’s dream starts to fall apart/get shattered by the dream-hopper squad, stuff starts to go awry very quickly with the dreamscape shifting and taking us back to Vil’s overblot at the VDC stage. Except this time, Neige really does die. Stuff naturally spirals from there, but it is in this that the supposedly happy ending is flawed. Because yes, Vil does want to be popular and recognized for his hard work, and yes, Vil does want to triumph over Neige. I’m going to go out on a limb here that I’m sure some won’t agree with me about and say that Vil doesn’t want it to happen this way. In fact, I would say that Vil would never want it to happen this way. And the main reason I say that is actually because of Vil’s overblot. When Vil was overblotting, he described himself as hideous and stated that he could never forgive himself. Now, there is a lot to unpack in just those statements, but the baseline is that Vil was horrified by his own actions. Not only had he sunk to the lowest of lows, he’d become the very thing everyone had always typecasted him as and the thing he’d never wanted to be. The villain. Killing Neige is the last thing Vil would ever want to do, which is probably as far from his happy ending as one could ever get. Now, it could be argued that the dream was already fraying and that it was doing its best not to crumble, but even then, this doesn’t make sense. Because taking Vil back to that moment actually helped him wake up, because that wasn’t a happy ending. That was a nightmare and it actually helped jar Vil back awake because it was just that upsetting for him.

But would Malleus realize that when he doesn’t know Vil that well? His interactions with Vil have been limited at best. It is quite possible that all he really knows is that Vil wants to be popular and hates Neige, who is in his way. And if that is the case, Malleus, in his overblotted state, might have assumed that the disappearance of Neige would be a truly joyful thing for Vil.

Now, while they came earlier in the story, I’ve saved Sebek and Lilia until the end for a reason. Simply put, Malleus knows them. Sebek’s dream was well-put together as a happy ending because he knows Sebek well. For Sebek, Lilia getting to go on a trip and being honored by everyone would be a happy thing. Especially since Sebek didn’t realize the exact reasons for Lilia’s going away.

As for Lilia’s dream, it is interesting. Because it is less of a dream and more of an amalgamation of Lilia’s memories all leading to the moment of Malleus hatching. In it, we see some hard times for Lilia. Moments that would hardly be described as happy. But it all culminated in the moment he saved Malleus’s life. And that would be a joyful memory for Lilia. Because Malleus, the only son of Meleanor, who’d entrusted her son to Lilia, and he was still unhatched at the time, had been dying in his egg, crying out for help, and Lilia saved him. It would be a difficult moment to triumph over in terms of importance and happiness. Because while I’m sure Lilia has many happy memories of Silver, Sebek, and Malleus growing up and his times with Meleanor and Revan, this would be a big one.

It is worth noting here that neither Lilia nor Sebek’s dreams are really endings of any sort. Which quite possibly reflects the fact that they are important to Malleus. Malleus doesn’t want an ending here. He wants things to continue forward in a happy, perfect manner for these people he cares about.

So, in conclusion, I think Malleus is crafting what he believes will be everyone’s happy ending and that these dreams are less of an insight into each character and more of an insight into how Malleus views them. And it’s understandable that he can’t perfectly craft a happy ending for everyone. Like I said, I imagine happily-ever-after is very subjective for everyone and that, even if you know someone well, you might not know what their perfect happy ending would be.

Anyhow, this is just my theory, and I look forward to seeing how things move forward through the story. I would love to hear everyone's thoughts on this because I’m sure I missed some points. After all, I only play on the English server and so I used translations from the Japanese server, and I wrote this very quickly.

[k-n0-x]

༺ ♱✮♱ ¨:·Something Stupid- Chapter 2·:¨ ♱✮♱ ༻

A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you all for the positive comments on Chapter 1 of Something Stupid. Chapter 2 is a long one, and I will only say one thing: Y/N is MOTHER fr.

I will also start a taglist for this fanfiction, so if you want in, just send an ask! [please note to not send it in as anonymous]

Playlist:

Navigation

Enjoy<3

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🦢♕✶💫☾🥀꧂

“So, what are we going to do about Heaven’s killing of demons?” Emily sits opposite you on the porch. You motion for her to have some cake.

It has been a few days since that ordeal, and you plan on seeing Charlie and her… residents soon enough. 

You’ve found that you have taken Emily under your wing, for the sole fact that the both of you have been left in the dark of this utter madness. 

You have always seen her as a lovely girl, and now, as you guys got to know each other better, you now see Emily as your own.

“To be honest, I’m not quite sure. I do know that I will go down and help them out for sure at some point,” you rim the teacup with your fingers.

“Oh! Can I join?” 

“I wish you could, but I’m not sure if Sera would appreciate that,” 

Emily’s eyes darken at the mention of the Seraphim. 

“Yeah well… I don’t appreciate how she kept this secret from me for God knows how long,”

“I know, and I feel the same way, but to be honest, I haven’t officially been to Hell, and I don’t know what it’s like when it’s not in rack and ruin. I want to see how it is normally like,” you take a sip of your tea.

You let the silence hang for a couple of seconds before asking,

“Well, what do you think?”

“Sorry, what do you mean?” Emily looks at you inquiringly. 

“Like, what is your opinion on this hotel Charlie is working on? Do you think it will work?”

“It does work,”

“Well I think- wait what?” You look at her, prying for more.

“Uh well, it’s just an immensely probable hypothesis I have,” Emily continues. 

“Sera and I were just talking, or rather, looking at each other awkwardly in silence…,” she trails off, irritating you slightly.

“And?”

“Well, a random snake guy sorta dropped in asking where he was because it wasn’t Hell and that he misses his “egg bois?” And Sera said for me to not to tell a soul, but obviously that didn’t age well-,”

“Wait a minute,” You did a mental overview of this information. 

You did remember someone sacrificing their life in the maelstrom of the Extermination. What was his name again? You couldn’t really place it. Sir something or other.

“I’ll look into it and update you if I find anything,” you say as you make a mental note to do as such.

“Okay but please don’t tell Sera. She will actually blow up if anything gets out-”

“Don’t worry, you can trust me Emi,” you look at the dregs of tea leaves in your cup, and leave it on the countertop.

“I’m afraid you have to go now, I have a function of sorts to attend to today,”

“Oh yeah, no problem!”

“Also, Emily?”

“Yeah?” The seraphim stands from her seat and quickly wipes her face, caked in crumbs.

“Thank you for telling me this. Here, take some more cake if you’d like and you can leave when you’re ready,” 

“Really? Thanks!”

You smile and go into your house and up the stairs.

Things are going to get interesting indeed.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

You take a deep breath and search around for something, anything, as a token for goodwill. 

On your windowsill, lays a box that has been collecting dust since forever.

Uncertain, you open it and you see an abundance of sweets, and you remember that this is from when your parents introduced you to Adam.

He gave you these clearly as a show of courtship, and you accepted it as a sign of respect.

Adam… He’s quite the person.

He has the humour of a 12 year old but he’s great to have a laugh with once in a while. 

He isn’t the one for you though. 

You told your parents as such, that you guys weren’t compatible in the slightest, and that being friends was probably how deep your relationship could go.

Unfortunately, they were too blinded by the prospect of money and endless possibilities to hear you out.

Yeah, they’re those kind of parents.

Before you pine the day away, you place the box in the comfort of your tote bag, and open a portal with the tips of your fingers.

As the portal opens, an unpleasant stench wafts through to your room, holding you back from going into Hell.

You take a deep breath, swallow your anxiety and pass through the portal, which closes behind you.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

“Now, where would that hotel be?” You wonder as you wander through the gruesome streets of hell, keeping your eyes peeled for any hotel of sorts. Charlie’s personality is… explosive, so her hotel would be hard to miss.

“Uhm excuse me, ma’am do you perhaps know where a hotel may be?” You tap a passerby’s shoulder. 

“How should I know bitch?” The person turns to face you. Or faces considering the fact it literally has two heads.

“Please apologise for my sister, though I believe there’s a hotel just down the path. Follow your nose, you can’t miss it!” The head that was more pushed off to the side pipes up.

“Oh alright, er, thank you?” You say your thanks as you walk down the street and sure enough, you find a hotel, decorated with blue hues, and erotic retro signs on the front.

It was so… unlike Charlie. 

You’re uncertain, but give the place the benefit of the doubt.

“Maybe she’s just making the hotel seem more catered to her civilians?” You hold onto that thought as you enter the double doors.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

Okay, maybe you should've been more doubtful.

The lobby was filled with demons conversing, laughing and brawling, though most sinners were drinking and being lustful with each other.

You pave your way to the bar and drum your fingers against the countertop, hoping to find a familiar face.

Two brawly sinners take a seat on either side of you.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” the demon on your left places his rough hand on your shoulder. 

“Do you want to… hang out with us?” The other grazes his claws against your thigh. 

“Oh, thanks for your kind offer but I really gotta…” you motion to the exit. 

“Nonsense, nonsense, you seem like you could clear up your schedule,” Sinner no.1 moves his hand to your back, tugging at your wings, letting out a small squeak from you. 

You’re absolutely frozen, the two demons oogling and grabbing at things they really really shouldn’t. 

“Alright, pack it up, funs over fellas,” A vaguely familiar voice emits from behind you.

You turn around to have an angry looking spider demon glaring at the perpetrators.

“Aw Angel, why ruin our fun? You could join too, you know. We’ll make it worth your while,”

“Thanks but no thanks,” He replies, without missing a beat. He drags you by the arm out of the “hotel”

“Okay so, why the fuck are you down here?” The arachnid gives you a once over.

“Well, I er, you,” Why did you become a stuttering mess all of a sudden?! You take a moment to recalibrate yourself. 

“I wanted to check up on the hotel, and see how you guys are doing. I thought this was it and-”

You were interrupted from his laughter.

“Dollface, you just entered a sex club,” He says through wheezes.

“Whoever told you that was a hotel was clearly messing with you,” 

“Why would-,” you backtrack yourself. Of course. This is Hell, of course people are going to either fuck you, or fuck you up. 

You sigh. 

“Can you atleast bring me to the hotel? Please? I have, er sweets?” You show the box as a pathetic attempt at not being abandoned in the streets.

A drabbling pause.

“Fine, but keep up,”

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

You almost let out a cry of relief as you enter the lobby.

This, was Charlie.

A bar was decoratively put in one corner, bestowed with a (cat?) demon accompanying it, doing some sort of bartending duties. 

“Well, this is it. I guess I should get Charlie for you, Dollface,” the nameless spider goes to the elevator.

“Wait!” You extend your hand in a sense of urgency.

“Thank you, er….,” you trail off; you evidently don’t know their name.

“Angel,”

“Huh?” 

“My name’s Angel. Angel Dust,” Angel Dust takes your hand and shakes it with one of his. 

“Y/N. Y/N L/N,” you add, as a certain Princess descends from the staircase, with a certain King following suit. They both look a bit scruffy, but Charlie’s eyes light up when she sees you. 

“Y/N! Hi!” You slightly flinch when Charlie gives you a massive hug, though you return it. 

“What have you been up to sugar? Seems like you’ve gotten back on your feet!” Out of the corner of your eye, Lucifer is observing you from the stairwell, making you quite antsy indeed. 

“Well, as best as we can be in the current situation, with Sir Pentious and all,” Charlie pulls away playing with her hair, a sentimental expression floods her eyes.

“We held a funeral for him just a couple days before you came and I hope it wouldn’t be too much to ask of you if you-,” 

“I’d love to see him,” You answer plainly.

“Great! Follow me,”  The princess leads you into the garden. You quickly take a glance behind you, and Lucifer��s watchful gaze is still on you. 

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

The garden really is… something.

It’s quite depressing, but you can’t really blame anyone. After all, how can anyone expect a garden to look anything above moribound when it inhabits a land of infernal blaze.

“Well, er, here it is,” Charlie introduces you to the grave intimately made, capturing what the snake demon looked like, the engravings properly detailing his teeth and his many eyes. Around the tomb, lit candles circled around it, along with some miscellaneous items, almost like an altar.

The sight of it makes you feel a twinge of maudlin. 

You hear a sniffle from your side. 

“Charlie?” A tear drops from her face.

“Oh darling, it’s okay. He died for a good cause,” you now bring her into your deep embrace.

“It’s- it’s not that,” Charlie mumbles through your shoulder.

“Sometimes I wonder if this hotel would even work. I’m tired, Y/N, Sir Pentious was our first, and only genuine patron. And now he’s gone,” her voice cracks, breaking your heart. 

You want to tell her that it does work, but you don’t have concrete proof. Bringing her hopes up for the slim chance for nothing would actually break her. So you decide against telling her what Emily told you.

You stay silent, and so does she, though it isn’t awkward.

You break the silence nonetheless. 

“You know, at least you have 2 people from Heaven on your side. Emily,” you point towards the sky.

“And me,” you point to yourself. 

“That takes a lot of work, you know, going up to face the Seraphim herself. You’re making progress, the only thing I ask of you is to keep going, alright? I will try snoop around to help in any way possible,”

“Oh no, you don’t need to do that. Coming down to visit us is more than I can ask for,” Charlie rubs her eyes dry, though a tear stain stays on her cheek.

“Nonsense.Anyway, Emily is sure to help me, so it’s not like I’m doing it alone,”  

For good measure, you add,

“By the way, did you know you and Emily have so much in common? What?It’s so uncanny!”

 That earned you a giggle from Charlie.

“Thanks for cheering me up, I really needed that,” She recollects herself and pats herself down.

“Well, let’s head inside and I’ll introduce you to the others, shall I?”

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

“Well, this has been lovely, meeting all of you, but unfortunately I would have to leave for now” You smile at all the hotel’s residents. 

The Radio Demon, Alastor shakes your hand.

“Farewell, new friend. I am sure that our newfound relationship will be a fruitful and pleasant one indeed,” the voice overlayed with a radio static is jarring, though you look past it, with an acknowledging nod.

“The feeling’s mutual. See you all soon?” You make your grand exit.

As you exit the building into the humid evening of Hell, you open a portal once more to your home realm, when someone stops you.

“Uh hey, Y/N?” 

You turn around, to have the King of Hell himself, looking quite anxious, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Lucifer! Is there something you need?” You keep the hostility out of your voice. While you were mingling with the other residents, Lucifer was sulking in the corner, and mumbled short and dismissive replies each and every time you tried to strike conversation with him.

“No, not really,” he pauses.

“Thank you for taking Charlie under your wing, and not treating her like she’s scum under your feet,” 

“It’s really really not a problem. Just basic respect, you know? You must be proud having a child like her,” 

He chuckles in agreement. 

“Well, you probably have to be going now, but I hope we can try and get to know each other in future?”

You were kind of taken aback by Lucifer’s attempt at extending an olive branch, but you say,

“Of course. Oh and before I forget,” you produce the sweet box from your bag.

“Here, for you and the rest,” 

Lucifer flushes slightly at your kind gesture. The look in his eyes is as though something sparked in him, as though a fire has been rekindled after many years from being dormant as he holds the sweet box loosely in his hand, like he will drop it at any moment.

“See you soon?” You say, in between the two worlds.

“Gladly,”

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🐣♕✶💫☾🥀꧂

Word count: 2,328

<Reblogs+commenting appreciated!>