#i'm getting better. but i'm so tired of feeling like the reason people's sudden shift in energy toward me is because i'm doing something

[bongsavior]

Man sometimes. I want to rip my hairs out. All of em

And then my flesh, and then

[taylorman2274]

We Care About You (Epilogue)

A week after bonding with the Traveler, you log back into Genshin and find that a lot has changed since your last time playing.

Content Warning(s): N/A

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader;

Word Count: 1.6k

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Taglist: @silverstarred; @victoria1676; @angelofdarkness2; @areaderspov; @andromeda-gay; @ash1; @mercy-not-merci; @toodledoodl3; @jellyedkazoo; @namine123; @innuwu; @agaygothicmushroom; @tired-of-life-86; @fantasyhopperhea; @sweetsourbxtch; @zenith-of-all-zeniths; @velleunv; @creativecupcake; @obsoletedeviant;

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"Something is wrong..."

Wait. No. That's not the word you should be using.

"Something is different..."

These were the thoughts rummaging through your head as you stared at the door to Teyvat on your computer. Everything up to that point had gone smoothly compared to all the previous times you logged on.

This time, however, you noticed that the time it took the game to get ready was noticeably quicker than usual. Like really quickly. Like almost instantaneous.

Like you didn't even have time to check the notifications on your phone. It was as quick as someone snapping their fingers.

"Not that I'm complaining. All the better!" you happily exclaimed, clicking on the screen and opening the door to Teyvat.

Thinking that this loading screen would last around the same time as before, you looked away from the computer towards your phone with the intent of checking on any new notifications that may have popped up. However, the outdoor ambiance of Teyvat quickly traveled to your ears, signaling that the loading screen came and went just as quickly as the one from earlier.

"Again? How?" you questioned, turning your attention back towards your computer screen. "Why is my computer suddenly able t-"

.

..

...

"...What..."

You could immediately tell that you were in Mondstadt given that you were standing in front of the Barbados statue. But that doesn't make any sense. You logged off at Liyue the last time you played Genshin.

"...The..."

Additionally, the plaza looked much more lively than normal. You've never seen more than ten people occupy the area at one time. But this time, it looked like you were standing in the center of a heavily populated city. People were walking, running, praying, and making conversation. But to top it all off...

...They all looked so real that you almost forgot you were playing a video game.

"...Hell?..."

You moved the camera around to view as much of the plaza as you could, but you quickly came to realize something important.

"Wait... Where's my character?"

Given how much time you've spent playing Genshin, you feel a bit embarrassed that you didn't immediately notice the lack of a player character in the bottom center of your screen.

But now is not the time for such feelings! You've got questions to answer.

You tried looking for them in the crowd but found no sign of them. You turned to the left but yielded the same results. You turned to the left aga-.

"HIYA [Y/N]!!!"

"JESUS!!"

The sudden shout jump scares you so badly that you instinctively lurch backward in your chair. The cord from your headphones was pulled off your head from how far you flung your head back. The cord was also responsible for shifting your computer awry.

You quickly leaned forward and brought a hand to the computer to prevent it from falling off your desk. In doing so, you also got a glimpse of what was shown on your computer screen.

Paimon had both her hands over her mouth, suggesting that she was the one who shouted in your face. Her eyes were dilated, looking frantically all around her. The Traveler was frozen in place behind her, their right arm stretched out towards Paimon.

"Uhhhh, [Y/N]?" Paimon quietly spoke up. "Are you okay?"

Given how clearly you heard Paimon from your headphones on the floor, you figured that part of the reason why you got so scared was because of how loud Paimon was.

Grabbing your headphones, you adjusted the volume before putting them back on.

"I'm alright," you assured her. "I just wasn't expecting that."

Your assurance worked as Paimon began smiling again. "Good! Paimon was worried that she accidentally scared you away again."

You softly chuckled. "Given how much I've been through already, it would take a lot more than that to scare me away."

Paimon happily nodded before flying back over to the Traveler. "Hey, [Y/N]," The Traveler greeted. "It's been a while hasn't it?"

"It has." you agree. "What's going on?"

The Traveler's smile grew. "Straight to the point, I see. In that case, I'll let you in on what Paimon and I have been looking into for the past couple of days."

You leaned back in your chair and propped your elbows on the armrests. You guessed that this was going to take a while to explain.

"Remember what I told you before we sent you back to your world?"

You thought back to that moment.

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

"Do you mind doing a quick favor for me after we send you back to your world?" the Traveler asked.

You nodded. "Sure. What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to not come to Teyvat for a little while."

...

"...Huh?"

"I know it sounds weird but let me explain," the Traveler emphasized with a hand on their chest. "I'm planning on asking Albedo to see if he can strengthen the connection between our two worlds so that we don't have to communicate like this every time. Not only will it be easier, but I don't have to worry about anything going wrong with the summoning ritual."

You crossed your arms. "So why do I not need to log i-... excuse me, not come to Teyvat? That basically goes against the whole reason you summoned me here in the first place."

"I'm worried that any attempt to cross the gap will either damage or destroy the link we have so far. Additionally, Albedo works best when he's not distracted."

You shrugged your shoulders. "Fair enough. But when do you want me to come back?"

The Traveler switched to a thinking pose. "Give me a week at minimum. If nothing comes out of it, I'll summon you here again."

You nodded. "Okay, sounds good. Is that all?"

"That's all. Are you ready to head back now?"

You nodded again. Aether was quick to call Xiao's name and he arrived just a second later.

"Remember. One week from now." The Traveler reminded.

"I know, I know. I won't forget," you assured.

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

"So you got it to work?"

The Traveler nodded. "I did. You should be able to see a noticeable difference from your previous visit."

"So that's what's happening..." you spoke in awe. "Everything looks so much more lively now! I'm even surprised that the computer I'm using can handle all of this."

"...Computer?" Paimon asked, confused.

"Sorry. It's the name of the device I use to get to Teyvat," you explained.

"Oh, THAT'S what's it called!" Paimon exclaimed. "Interesting..."

You chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Yeah. I wish I could show you all how it works."

"Hopefully we'll be able to in the future," The Traveler butted in. "I'm happy with what we've accomplished so far, but I would be even happier if I could have you in Teyvat by my side constantly like Paimon."

You raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't Paimon literally disappear on the regular?"

"HEY! THAT'S NOT TRUE!"

... ... ...

"Oh wait..."

The Traveler laughed. "You know what I mean, [Y/N]."

"Hmph! You guys can make fun of Paimon all you want, but Paimon's been working on something as well!" She floated closer to you and pointed toward the top of your screen. "Go ahead and click on that button for Paimon, [Y/N]."

...

She was pointing at the wish button.

"You can see that?"

"Yep! Now Paimon's able to tell just what exactly you're doing at all times!"

Dear God, that sounds like a nightmare.

You clicked on the wish button. "You better not have done anyth-"

...

"WHAT HAPPENED TO MY PRIMOGEMS?????!!"

"Wait wait wait wait wait, don't panic!" Paimon frantically assured. "Having more is better, right?"

...

...

...

"...[Y/N]?"

"Shut it, Paimon. I'm checking my bank account for any suspicious purchases."

"Paimon did not steal any money from you! Paimon has no way of accessing them anyway!"

"Then why do I have..."

...

"DOES THAT SAY INFINITY????"

The Traveler could only rub the back of their head in embarrassment as their commotion attracted the attention of the majority of people passing by. After all, it wasn't all too common for a Seelie and a fairy to be shouting at each other.

"I don't get it..." you muttered. "There aren't any signs of fraud in my bank account."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Paimon argued. "You should be more grateful. Paimon went through a lot to get those."

You sighed. Truly, Paimon was as unpredictable as ever. "You're right. You're right. Sorry."

"Apology accepted!" Paimon smiled. "Now, using your infinite supply of primogems, make a few wishes on one of the banners."

...How does Paimon understand what all of this is?

Regardless, you went ahead and wished for a ten-pull on the Standard Banner. There wasn't anyone or anything you were really aiming to pull on the character and weapon banners.

The animation played out as usual, the star starting out as blue before slowly turning into gold.

"Oh sweet! Thanks Paimon!"

"Don't thank Paimon just yet! There's plenty more where that came from~!"

The first wish flashed on the screen. "Jean! Finally, I got her!"

The second wish flashed on the screen. "Aquila Favonia?! Two golds back to back?! This is a moment in history! Take a picture!"

The third wish flashed on the screen...

...

...Another gold? That can't be right.

You're not one to judge your luck, but getting three gold items in a row sounds like a load of bull shit to you.

You pressed the skip button to see what the rest of the pulls looked like.

...

They were all gold.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"I know right!" Paimon giggled excitedly. "Just wait until Paimon shows you the other banners!"

...

Paimon is going to get you banned by Hoyoverse, fan-fucking-tastic.

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THE END

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Author's Notes: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, surprise?

I will be honest, I've had this idea in my head for a while. It honestly could be it's own one-shot if I wanted to, but I felt like it would fit better as an epilogue for my main series.

That being said, if you don’t like this ending or like the previous one better, then go ahead and treat that one as the de facto ending.

Thanks again for all who liked, reblogged, and/or commented on this little series. I appreciate each and every one of you!

More stories to come soon! ...Hopefully.

[sirfrogsworth]

So... I feel like the left-handed metaphor is a good tool for talking about trans folks.

But also... I am kinda sick of the left-handed metaphor.

It's a bit simplistic. It's overused as a gotcha. And it isn't a perfect metaphor because I don't think there is a huge increase in people identifying as trans because they are more accepted. I think it has more to do with easily accessible information.

Personally, I feel acceptance of being trans has seriously regressed since this fearmongering began. And people weren't learning that left-handedness was a thing all of a sudden. They just weren't smacked with a ruler anymore. It was purely a shift in acceptance, rather than a shift in available lefy info.

I also think people overstate the increase in trans identification. They talk about percentages like "a 3200% increase!" or whatever, but there are still only about 40,000 young people diagnosed with gender dysphoria every year. A lot of those "percentages" lump in all queer identities. And while a more reasonable estimate of a 200% increase might sound like a lot, that would still only be going from 20K to 40K young people. A better metric would be to show the percentage of all young people that are trans.

We've gone from 0.027% to 0.054% of 0-17 year old trans identifying people. From that perspective, the 200% increase seems rather quaint.

(I don't remember the time scale and a gender dysphoria diagnosis is not a super accurate census of young trans folks, but I am too tired to look all of that up. Hopefully you understand the point I'm trying to make.)

I don't really have a better metaphor to replace left-handedness. And it is still a great tool for trans 101 explanations. But I think it would be better to fight against the narrative that there is this huge increase in trans folks. Anti-trans folks are trying to make it seem like every kid in public school is trans now. They want the trans population to seem much bigger and scarier. And in reality, they want them to be the smallest group possible so they can't fight back.

Most people I know don't even have a single trans person in their life. And many others don't even know a trans person at all. It's definitely more than it used to be but way less than the scaremongering portrays.

This narrative is used to make it seem like every sports event has trans people competing and every school has 8 trans teachers and millions of kids are getting puberty blockers and genital surgeries.

But the NCAA has 130,000 women athletes. Estimates say about 100 are trans. Most schools have 0 trans teachers. Only about 1500 young people are put on blockers each year. And only a handful of 15-17 year olds have had any bottom surgery in like, all of history.

The trans population is just big enough to be horribly discriminated against by bigots, and just small enough to be nearly powerless to defend themselves without serious help from allies.

[mcl4r3n]

dando + 2? 👀

“Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

This got way longer than I intended so I'm putting this under the cut!

List of prompts here :3

---

Daniel doesn't get Lando sometimes. Given, it's tough to adjust to new teammates. But it's been six months of being partnered up with Lando and Daniel still keeps feeling like all he does is take missteps around him.

He thought that they were getting somewhere, honestly. He's done his best. Is it jarring to not be instant friends with Lando? Yeah, fuck, he can admit that to himself.

But he thought that doing things like trying to invite him out for dinner, just—fucking, finding common ground considering that Daniel doesn't give a flying rat's ass about golf or gaming, would maybe help some.

It's bad enough that he can't get to grips with the car, and that his race engineer can barely remember his fucking name most days. he needs someone in his corner, and for some reason, his brain has decided to latch on to the one person who seems most adamant about not wanting to be his friend.

The thing is that this dinner, where he's taken Lando to one of his favorite little spots in Monaco to celebrate Lando's podium, was going along pretty nicely up until just a minute ago.

He decided early on that maybe coming out to Lando would help put him in his good graces—to show that he trusts him, to show something there was more to Daniel than just joking around and racing, maybe.

So he tells Lando a few little anecdotes about his attempts at dating since Lando asked, and he's in the middle of talking about this one guy who, well, hasn't been that great, really, but he's nice enough, even if he sometimes gives Daniel shit for his very busy schedule.

(The NDA Blake had to draw up for him had to be airtight. It was a whole thing.)

But now Lando's got this pinched expression on his face, and Daniel kind of breaks.

"Okay, Norris Lando, what gives?" Daniel finally asks.

It feels like he's about to fall apart, like every little hurt he's squirreled away inside the box in his head marked "do not open" is about to explode.

"Are you—like, is all of this making you uncomfortable? Why are you mad?” Daniel asks. He feels a little helpless, which is never a feeling he enjoys.

Lando's expression shifts, his eyebrows shooting up.

"What?"

Daniel puts his beer down, sighs, rests his forehead on his hand. he's so tired, all of a sudden. It's been a shit season, a shit year, and all he wanted to do was be Lando's fucking friend.

"You're—you're looking at me like—mate, I don't even know. You asked me about my dating life and so I decided to share it with you and now you're looking at me like I pissed in your drink, so what fucking gives? Why are you mad at me?"

Lando's face colours, and then he looks away. Daniel watches him, watches the way his breathing changes, the way the blush creeps high onto his cheeks.

“I’m not mad," Lando says quietly. He fiddles with the straw in his iced tea, already so diluted all the ice has gone. "I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

"Oh yeah, why, are you offering?" Daniels asks before he can stop himself. He's kind of had it with Lando. Had it with the attitude and the cold shoulders and the fucking—whatever this is.

Lando looks at him sharply, then, before he frowns, and then looks away again.

"I—" he starts. He swallows. He takes a shuddering breath.

Daniel's heart hammers an entire drumbeat against his ribcage. He's not quite sure what's happening here, but his body's decided that it's high time to panic.

"Just forget about it," Lando says. "Please, can we just forget about it—"

"No, what—mate, I don't know what the fuck is going on right now, and I don't understand what you have against me, just fucking talk to me, it's all I've wanted you to do all year," Daniel finally says.

He exhales. He can't believe that this is all boiling over now.

They were supposed to be celebrating Lando's P3. Daniel swallowed his pride to take him out, instead of staying at home to mope around over his P12 finish.

And finally, Lando looks at him again and his eyes are pleading.

"I'm—I'm sorry, DR," he says quietly. "I'm sorry I've been a cunt."

Daniel lets out a little tch between his teeth. He's not exactly sure what else there is to say, after that.

"It's—you don't know how hard it is to be in your shadow, and to like you so much," Lando says. Which. What?

What the fuck?

"Like me? Coulda fooled me there, mate."

Lando's picked up the paper that his straw was sheathed in earlier and now he's twisting it over and over in his fingers like a nervous tick.

"I like you more than you can even imagine, Danny," Lando replies, his eyes downcast. "I've been trying to—fix it. Stop it. So I've just. . . sort of swung in the opposite direction to try to—" he shrugs, and Daniel's entire body feels like it's about to dissolve into ash. "To get over you. But hearing you just fucking—settling like that when—when there are so many other people who could treat you well. It just."

Lando swallows audibly, and finally looks up.

"I'd never give you shit for your busy schedule," he continues. "But then again, we'd have the same one so, it wouldn't be an issue. Y'know. In a hypothetical situation where you did actually see me as more than just—" Lando waves his hand around aimlessly in the air. "Whatever. A kid. Your teammate."

Daniel feels completely unmoored, but also like fucking laughing at the ridiculousness of this entire conversation.

"You—you're telling me you like me? Like, like that? You've spent most of this year being prickly and mean and now you're telling me you like me, and you also want me to stop seeing you like a kid?"

Lando looks so caught out at that, so shocked by it, that Daniel knows he needs to fix this before he screws up even worse.

He reaches out and takes Lando's wrist in his hands, feels the hummingbird pulse there, ten kilometers a minute. Warm, of course, just like how Daniel feels right now.

"Hey, hey," Daniel says. "Can we maybe start with friends first, and see where that takes us?"

His heart feels like a hummingbird too, now.

Lando gives him a small, hesitant smile. "You don't hate me?"

Daniel feels every tense muscle leave him.

"Of course not," Daniel replies, relief and hope blooming inside his chest now. "Couldn't even if I tried, and boy, did I try. Actually I think you were better at that than I was, by the looks of it."

Lando kicks him under the table, but Daniel barely feels it. He just grins instead, and true enough, Lando smiles back.

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Scottish Lord Larry Johnson [7]

I fly into a sudden and painful sitting position at the sound of my phone ringing loudly through my room.

My desk chair flies back at the force I put into my action and I jump in fear of falling, steadying myself with outstretched arms and wide eyes. My heart pounds wildly, causing me to place a hand to my chest and let out a shocked yelp.

Once I'm still and the threat of busting my ass is dismal, I heave a slow, shaky breath and blink my tired eyes.

I slept hard, but I definitely didn't sleep well.

My hair is a mess, tangled around my neck and around other strands, a necklace is choking me better than a hand could, and my left arm and side are so sore that I have to physically wince once I try to move it.

A dull burn spreads through my limb and across my ribs and torso as I stretch my arm out to grab my phone sitting in front of my keyboard.

My most fatal flaw is that I use black-out curtains. No matter the time of the day, it's nearly impossible for me to get out of bed because it's always dark and cozy. This morning-- night?-- is no different seeing as the only light comes from my keyboard, the rainbow colors shifting and changing with languid movements. Not a single ounce of outside light fills my room. I can't see my bed, my windows, or even my feet with how dark it is-- I only have a plethora of colors mixing across my outstretched hand.

I blink myself out of my sleepy haze, pinching my lips together as I snatch my phone from the desk, a plastic scratching sound filling the empty space around me before the device is lifted to my face.

My eyes squint against the harsh light of my screen as I look at my missed call-- the damn call that woke me up.

It was Larry of all people.

I purse my lips, staring down on his contact and wondering how I should contact him. I can't call him-- he'd recognize my voice in an instant. So, I opt to text him, unlocking my phone and opening a new text message with him.

My fingers hover over my keyboard, my heart pounding uselessly and for no good reason as a chill erupts along my skin. It's just Larry. Sure, I have this fake persona hanging over my head and it's at risk of dying every single day, but Lar and I have been friends for years. It's fine.

I send a quick text, "hey, everything okay? i was sleeping!" then shut my phone off, dropping it to my lap.

With a sigh, I tilt my head up to look at my black ceiling, the corners of my room enveloped in eerie shadows that make my spine tingle with fear just a bit. I'm not a fan of the dark unless I'm passed out, so being suddenly wide awake in my otherwise abyss-like room is a bit creepy.

My phone buzzes against my thigh, so I lift it, holding it above me. Larry answered pretty quickly.

I glance at the time before reading his message. 10:58am.

Lar-Bear :3 ofc y/n just wana bother u n c if u'll join me n the gang tmr

Me errr not sure what you mean...

Lar-Bear :3 ur still n la right???

Me sure am :)

Lar-Bear :3 well we r abt 2 fly out 2 vegas u shld pop by cuz we miss u

I swallow thickly, blinking at the message as a sense of yearning fills me up to the brim. My invite, thanks to Ash, was enough to make me feel bad. But even Larry is asking me, personally, without knowing my secret side, to go and meet up with them. I'm not sure why, but I genuinely have felt that Ash is the only one who's wanted to see me.

Larry, Todd, and I don't talk all that often outside of my second personality, but we still consider ourselves to be close friends.

I don't want to tell Larry no. In fact, I want nothing more than to drop everything going on right now and actually fly out to Las Vegas to finally see everyone. But I can't. I have responsibilities at home, no where near enough money or time, and no way to conceal myself to continue playing out the role of VioletViolence.

Me :( i would really love to, but i don't have the money plus i have a shift to work tomorrow. it sucks cause you guys will be so close, but i won't be able to. i'm so sorry

I shut my phone off again and toss it onto my desk, flinching lightly at the loud thunk that echoes in my small, quiet, dark room.

I'm tired of hiding, of not being able to do anything because of financial issues and fear. Life shouldn't be this way-- it wasn't always this way even if it feels like it's been.

Not too long ago, I used to go out and take walks to the local library, hang out with my coworkers from the diner, and sometimes I'd even go out for a drink. But, as of recent, I just don't want to because of so many things that I shouldn't be dealing with at all, especially at such a young age.

I distance myself without wanting or meaning too, I just never have the energy to do more than what's required of me. Work, eat, sleep. That's it-- the same repeated cycle every single day.

Not to mention, I already struggle with making friends. I've always been a bit of a loner, only having a few friends in high school-- mainly because I was forced to socialize with the rest of my percussion section in band. Even then, they were all closer than I was with them.

Having to move from Nockfell killed any bit of outgoing personality I had, I think. I'm lucky enough to have my four-- three-- friends now.

So shouldn't I try to at least hold on to what I do have? Why can't I do just that?

With a gulp and an unwanted numbness starting to take over my sudden rush of emotions, I abruptly stand from my desk and walk to the door of my room, aggressively flicking on the lights.

I squint against the aggressive ability to see, noting that my room is just as untouched as it was when I started streaming last night-- my bed's made, the white pillows, black comforter, and Levi Ackerman plushie in their rightful places. There's still a pile of clean clothes taking up the left back corner of my floor. I need to fold them. My desk is still as tidy as it can possibly get and situated against my window, and my TV is hanging on the wall beside my tiny-as-fuck closet. Nothing's new. Nothing's different.

The same, uneventful morning as every other day.

And I have work in two hours.

I pick up my phone again, glancing down at a few more messages from Larry.

Lar-Bear :3 $$$ isnt a prob we got u n fuck ur boss come out!!!!!!! >:((((( how dare u tell a Scottish Lord no lest mine eyes beseech me

A light, amused smile quirks my lips for a moment.

Me Scottish Lord??????????

Lar-Bear :3 u heard me todd purchased land 4 my last bday n it made me a Scottish Lord legally i own a square ft of prairie land but it's MY square ft n i get 2 write Lord b4 my name on every legal doc so it checks out

I roll my eyes. Of course Todd had to go and stroke Larry's unnecessarily inflated ego just a bit-- and now he gets to call himself Lord Larry Johnson. Perfect.

Still, I'm giggling at it a bit. It is pretty funny, especially since he's so proud of his title.

Me lmao that's really cool larry. i'll make sure to call you Lord Lar-bear from now on, 'kay? but still, i really can't make it to vegas. just funds and work broski, i'm sorry and i really do miss all of you <3

Lord Lar-Bear :3 >:( u defy Lord Lar yet again ur punishment is 2 ignore responsibilities n come live it up in vegas

Me Larry LMAO please :,)))

Lord Lar-bear :3 :( ik, just lidding kidding* i mean i am lidding 2 straight lidding the top of a can of baked beans mom gave me u ever straight lid a can

Text conversations with Larry are never dull. Even though I still won't be able to go and see him and my other friends, I'm happy and content with having his companionship. He's a good friend who clearly knows how to lighten up a tense situation

Me nope, can't say i have. what, pray tell, is 'straight lidding?'

Lord Lar-Bear :3 smh uncultured swine i've raised u wrong STRAIGHT LIDDING is when u lick the lid of a can of shit cause u just can who wldn't wana straight lid

Me ewwwww lar 0_0 you're licking shit???? i'm sorry, forgive me, Lord Lar-Bear-- you're STRAIGHT LIDDING cans of shit?????

Lord Lar-Bear :3 -_- fuck myc ock just 4 tht, yea i am lidding straight shit (҂◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

I don't realize I'm smiling down at my phone until Ash's contact pops up when she calls.

I flinch back at her loud ringtone, nearly dropping the device, but I regain composure and quickly answer, lifting it to my ear.

"Y/n!!!!" Ash squeals excitedly. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm with all the boys right now!"

I take the hint immediately, noting the slight warning lilt in her voice. I need to be incognito-- no talk of Vi right now.

"Hey, Ash," I breathe, swallowing my nerves and preparing myself for any unwanted scenarios.

Voices fill in the silence from Ash's end of the call, the sound of various conversations and shuffling filling me with unwarranted anxiety. I'd be panicking if I were in her position right now.

"We're at the airport right now, getting ready to fly out to Las Vegas! Larry said that you can't come. Boo." Ash's fabrication of the truth slips from her lips like butter, spreading out so evenly that no one would suspect that she's covering up the fact that she already invited me to Vegas.

Still, I'm shocked to hear that they're leaving now. "Really?" I ask. "How long will you guys be there?"

"We're taking a week-long trip since it's, duh, Vegas. There's some kind of exclusive party happening tomorrow night, then we'll just be sight-seeing-- if we can-- for the next few days," my friend chirps, hissing out some kind of insult aimed at Larry before returning to the call. "Of course, we have work stuff to do-- bleh-- but we have the nights free. Hopefully it'll be fun, but it would have been better with you!"

I chew on the inside of my cheek, feeling a lump build in the back of my throat. Las Vegas sounds so fun. Jealousy and pure longing burn my insides, flames licking up the sides of my deflated morale. This is a dangerous situation for me, just as most unpredictable moments are.

Right now, I'm willing to drop absolutely everything and declare bankruptcy just so I can fly out and reunite with my closest friends.

"Yea, I wish I could come," I decide to say quietly, looking down at my bare feet as they kick at my black rug.

"THEN COME!!!!" A voice bellows, one that I can distinctly point out as Larry's.

My eyes widen and I find myself smiling again.

"Ash, tell him I said, 'I bet you'd like that, Lord Lar,'" I quickly say, holding my phone to my face with two hands as a giggle bubbles up my throat despite knowing that it's a risky move. Suppose he'd take the phone from Ash, for example.

"Ohhhh," Ash drawls, rolling her tongue, "Y/n's frisky today." Her voice sounds a bit quieter as she, probably, moves away from her phone to talk to Larry. "She says, 'I bet you'd like that, Lord Lar.'"

I can't contain my smile again, listening to Larry's muffled, outlandish guffaw leaking through the call. I can hear Ash's little giggles accompanying Larry's awful excuse of some kind of him-style seduction.

"Anyway," Ash breathes cheerily, returning to our conversation again. "Hopefully we'll be able to come and visit you soon, lovely. Until then, we'll update you with photos and scary tales of our time."

I lick my suddenly dry lips, nodding subtly before remembering that my dear friend can't see it. "That sounds good," I say, clearing my throat. "Have a safe flight and trip, and enjoy yourselves!"

"You know we will, honey! Nous vous aimons, Chérie!"

The call ends, her personal goodbye making no sense in my mind, though I'd guess it has something to do with loving me, given Ash's track record and knack for learning random phrases in other languages.

I feel lighter after talking with my friends, but I'm still aching on the inside. I hate knowing that they'll be so close, but still too far for me to reach them.

After days of having the party invitation marinating in my emails, I pull it up-- even if I am just adding fuel too my already raging fire and entertaining a fantasy that should only exist in my dreams.

Ya boi Kieran. I have no fucking clue who he is, but whatever.

I wonder if anyone would actually show up without clothes? I'll have to ask Ash if that happens. I'm sure she'll fill up my phone with photos too.

I shut my phone off with a huff, glaring at my toes buried in the ashen depths of my rug, dreading the moment that I have to step away from it's warm confines and embrace the cold wooden flooring. I wish I could stay in this moment forever before things get worse. With the path I'm headed down today, I'm bound to end up feeling even more guilty and lonesome than I already am.

Things always get worse before they get better.

Most of my long day is spent tending to ungrateful and inconsiderate customers, going as far as kicking a rowdy woman out myself. Lucky for me, I was able to convince her that I was the manager. Still not sure how I managed (haha, get it?) but I prevailed. Not that I really wanted to.

It's well after nine in the evening once I'm finally walking home, lazily putting one foot in front of the other as people rush past me, all drunk or on their way to it.

The stars and moon are hidden by all of the city lights, robbing me of a pretty view as per usual. Footsteps and laughter echo around me, conversations I shouldn't hear flitting about my head as a distraction from the terrorizing reminder that my friends are a mere couple hours away from me and I can't see them. The flashing headlights from cars and mirrored reflections on buildings blind me enough to steal my attention away from my morbid and overactive mind.

I almost hate to continue walking toward my apartment building, knowing that I'll be alone with my disquiet. I'll only have myself to talk to.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I instinctually pull it out, unlocking it and looking at the screen. 

It's from The Faces Discord chat.

It's a photo that makes my entire body tense up with happiness and nausea all at the same time. Ash and Larry have their faces pressed together, the photo a close up of them-- I can't even see their necks. But the picture is so blurry that I can really only see their blurry outlines and smiling mouths. 

A little giggle leaves my lips as I react to the photo with a heart emoji then shut off my phone, stuffing it back into my pocket as I walk up to my apartment building. 

I don't bother greeting the security guard, only throwing him a polite little smile as I amble over to the elevators on tired and achy feet, taking the far too silent ride up to a higher floor.

But, a sudden rush of excitement washes over me upon finding that my apartment door is unlocked.

Dad's home.

Maybe my day was rough, and it did get worse like I suspected, but it got better too. I'm thrilled upon realizing my father is lying behind this door-- I haven't seen him in about a week now.

I rush into the apartment, throwing the door open and only wincing a bit when the handle hits the wall with a loud thunk. 

My excitement is paused as I sink in on myself, nervous about whether neighbors are going to complain or if there'll be an extra bill we'll have to pay-- just to see dad rounding the corner with an alarmed look on his face.

He looks at the door, then up to me, relief filling his gaze as he relaxes his stance and smiles at me. 

"Well, hell, Ducks. That's quite an entrance," he snickers, walking toward the door with long strides. He pulls the hunk of wood, checks the wall, then looks at the knob before swinging the door closed. "Good thing we have no damages, huh?"

"Oh, really?" I breathe, my skin cooling off from the rapid heat that'd overtaken me due to my panic. "Sorry, dad. I didn't mean to slam it, I just..."

Dad shakes his head, scrunching his eyebrows together as he waves me off, "No issue. I thought someone was coming to murder me, but I'm alive so I guess I'm not too disappointed."

I reel back, eyes widening at his slight dig. "Damn, rough day?" I giggle, knowing he's only joking.

"Meh," he shrugs with a big smile. "Same as always. How about you, Ducky?"

My mouth feels dry as I purse my lips. I try to say something, but anxiety silences me. So I just let my mouth shut again and shrug at my father who presses his lips into a thin line, pretty much catching my drift.

He takes a step forward and wraps an arm around my shoulders, directing me to the kitchen where the scent of bacon overwhelms me immediately. The smell is so strong that I'm shocked I couldn't detect it sooner.

"Tell me what's going on, hun," Dad says, walking towards the stove and dumping an egg mixture into a pan, the food sizzling as soon as it makes contact with the hot surface. Dad loves breakfast for dinner-- though this seems like it's closer to being considered a midnight snack.

"It's really not important," I say shyly, struggling as I lean against the refrigerator, my finger running along a ceramic horse-shaped magnet that I painted as a child. "Just trying to get this little... side job kickstarted, I guess?"

"It's always important, okay?" Dad says softly but seriously, sending me a little scolding look over his shoulder before returning to his cooking. "You can tell me anything. Every feeling is justified. But how's that going for you? I know you told me that you were going to start streaming with Ash, I haven't heard anything since."

I perk up a bit, knowing that I have at least a bit of good news to tell him. "It's actually going really well," I say, my voice a lot lighter compared to how heavy and down it was moments ago. "My last stream amassed about eight thousand viewers. I should be getting around $250 for that soon. I've been playing with Ash, Larry, Todd, and their friend Sal." It always feels weird to say Sally's real name, but in this case, my dad would probably understand that better than the guy's supposed stage name.

"That's great, honey, congratulations!" Dad chuckles a bit, a wide smile enveloping his stubbly face. "I'm really happy to hear that. $250 is good money for one night, yea." He nods his head in such a rhythmic way that it looks like he's listening to music. "So, how is the gang?"

I chew on my bottom lip. "They're doing well as far as I know. They, um... they're all in Vegas right now." My voice trails off toward the end as I purposefully thrust myself into the memory. Sometimes I just want to hurt. Maybe because it's the only thing that can feed into my make-believe scenarios at night-- once all the lights are out and I'm tucked into bed, my blankets pulled up to my chin. When it's just me and my monster of a mind.

Dad's startlingly quick spin pulls me from my thoughts and I look up, noting his exhilarated expression-- a wide smile to match his wide eyes and risen brows. 

"You're kidding!" Dad says breathlessly, disbelief leaking from his deep voice. "When are they coming over here? They are coming, right?"

I look away from him. I know he misses my friends too-- after all, they were always hanging out at our apartment when we lived in Nockfell. He thought of Ash, Larry, and Todd as his own. We were all very close and I'm going to have to disappoint him. "No, they won't be coming. I think they have some stuff to do while they're there."

Dad deflates in a moment's notice, his shoulders falling just as his expression does. "Damn," he hisses, pursing his lips. "Really?"

I swallow the aggravating lump in my throat and chew on the inside of my cheek, trying not to think about how deeply the entire situation affects me. It's almost embarrassing to ache for something as strongly as I do-- to want and need something so fucking bad. Anyone else would say I don't need it, I just want it. But it doesn't feel that way.

"Yea, really," I say quietly, crossing my arms over my chest. "They... they invited me to go with them," I confess, unable to meet dad's eyes. "But money's tight and I'm working for the rest of the week anyway, so."

"Ducks," dad says, his voice disbelieving and a little upset. So I look up at him and try not to waver under his sad gaze. "Tell me you didn't tell them no because of that."

I scrunch my brows and shake my head lightly. "Of course I did. It's the truth."

Dad sighs, turning back to his eggs. "Go into my room and grab my wallet and my laptop," he mumbles, using a spatula to stir his concoction.

My heart races, hoping that he isn't trying to get me to Vegas, but praying he does at the same time. I feel guilty for wanting something like that, so I contain it, doing as he says and slipping away from the kitchen to walk into his room across from mine.

I flip on the lights, quickly scooping his wallet and laptop into my hands from his bed and wobbling back to the kitchen, placing the device with his wallet on top onto the counter. 

Dad leans down, switching the stove off then leaning over to grab a piece of bacon. "Food's ready," he says between the slice in his mouth. He turns around and walks to my side, opening his laptop and logging in.

The man sucks on the bacon like it's a lollipop and clicks on various things on his laptop, his eyes moving quickly as the screen reflects onto them.

"Alright," he says, finally biting off a piece of bacon and gesturing to the screen.

I look over, gulping at the list of flights leaving Los Angeles with Las Vegas as their destination. 

"Dad--" I scramble to get out, looking up at him with horror in my gaze and pain filling my heart. We don't have the money for this and I don't need it.

My father just rolls his eyes and takes another bite of his bacon. "Shush, y/n. Pick a day you want and spend a night out there. Okay? I want you to visit your friends. Plus, I have savings. A little trip for you won't hurt, so don't worry."

I glance back at the screen with tears filling my eyes and my heart racing so quickly that my limbs feel numb. I could die right now and I'd still be happy.

My dad and I have tackled everything together. It's always been just us two, even when mom was still around. He and I went to therapy together, we went on trips together, we did homework together. We've been with each other at our highest and lowest points. After everything, still, to this day, he manages to give me what I want most when I'm at my worst. 

He's lucky I'm not a spoiled brat, but I'm lucky that he isn't mom.

I snort, grabbing onto dad's shoulder and squeezing. "Fuck you," I murmur jokingly, to which he flicks me off with a cheeky little smile.

"Seriously, though," he says, squeezing my hand that rests on his shoulder. "Pick out a day and don't worry about a price."

I nod my head quickly, trying to overlook my guilt hurdle as my eyes travel over the screen. "I'd like to leave tomorrow if possible..." I murmur, frowning at the ridiculous last-minute flight prices. "There's a party they invited me to at nine tomorrow night, but I don't need to go."

"Look," he says, pointing a finger at a flight. "There's one here. You'd have to be out of the house for six tomorrow morning though. Can you do that? I'll drop you off at the airport for takeoff at eight."

"Ew," I say, shaking my head and taking a step away. "That's a $300 flight, dad. Absolutely not."

He looks at me blankly, then clicks on the flight since his cursor was already hovering there. 

I flinch, rushing forward as a wave of fear and guilt washes over me again. I don't need a $300 flight. I can just go another day. 

But dad holds a hand out, stopping me in my tracks with raised eyebrows and a stern expression. "Shut up and accept this nice deed," he warns, a little smile on his lips.

"Gosh, dad," I complain, feeling like I'm literally going to throw up when he looks back at the screen and autofills his bank account information before booking the flight. It's a thirty second ordeal of me fidgeting in my stance before deflating over the reality that I'm going to Las Vegas tomorrow morning.

"Don't 'gosh,dad!' me. I want you to go enjoy your day. Call into work early tomorrow morning while we're heading to the airport and tell them you're sick. Fuck the rules," Dad cackles ruthlessly, pushing his laptop away for a moment then opening his wallet. 

"What are you, an anarchist?" I snort, still fighting back tears.

Dad tilts his head as he flips through bills. "Thought you knew I already violated several Geneva Conventions," he murmurs, making a loud cackle of my own escape my lips.

I hope he's just kidding.

"Here," he says, shoving a few bills into my line of vision. "Take care of yourself while you're over there. Let's go find a hotel for you real quick, okay?"

I take the money without looking at it. I'd burst into tears and shove it back toward him if I saw the amount, I just know it.

So after I tuck the cash into my pocket, I let a smile pull at my lips as I watch my dad open a new search tab. I can't believe I got so lucky today. I thought dad was the icing on the cake-- but he just had to add a cherry on top too.

"Okay, thanks dad."

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

A/N::::::: i had a shitty day so here's a chapter :P

it's a bit fast-paced and boring but.... IT'S EXCITING TOO BECAUSE OUR REUNION IS COMING UP SOONNNNN IWHEFOIHEWOIFHOIEHF YAAAYYYYYYY can't breathe BUT I'M SO EXCITED

how do u guys think it'll go? :3

as always, i love each of you with my entire soul and being. You make up the contents of my heart. rest well, stay safe, and have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night <3333

[squaregoals]

When You're Holding Onto Everything

A Future Leonardo(RotTMNT) drabble 🐢🟦

The air is still and the room dark by the time the last mourner files out of the room set aside for memorials.

Last person, save for Leonardo.

He's resting against the back wall, having been there from the start. He remains there, as he watches the candles snuff themselves out by drowning in their wax as they reach the ends of their wicks.

Now that no one else was in the room, he could unravel from how guarded he had been. He was not unkind per se, just never distant, and not too open.

Even grieving, he knew that he had to stay solid for his people. Leo had never and likely will never understand how Raph could balance the two so well, while still maintaining and running his division. Raph could be soft and vulnerable, amd all his division still saw him as reliable.

Leo, though?

Leo didn't feel like he could take the same liberties.

Maybe it's because he led their entire group, and was responsible for the headquarters and indirectly all other bases. But no matter what the reason- he felt if he showed how terrified the continuing war and losses made him… they might not see him as able to have and deserve such a responsibility.

Ridiculous, he knew at his core, but it was still a worry in moments like these where he was alone and directly staring down the direct results of his failure. A mission gone sideways with almost the entire team he had sent out coming back in a box or just as tags.

~~

"You realize none of us or the families blame you, correct?"

Leo must have zoned out completely, because the sudden appearance of his twin had him startled so bad that Donatello had to raise his hands in surrender to calm him.

Leo then groaned, passing a hand over his face. But he didn't respond other than that, so Donnie raised his (currently smudged) eyebrows.

"You do know this, correct?" Donnie repeated, leaning in slightly.

Leo drew his mouth tight, looking away as he tried to think of a deflection. Usually he was quick on his feet with these, but he was running on little sleep and this event didn't help.

At the continued lack of response, Donnie quietly sighed before walking over and leaning on the wall next time. Their shoulders touched- flesh to robotics- and the silent show of solitude Leo appreciated somewhere in the back of his head.

They stood like that for long enough that the last vestiges of the routine night time activity outside the room dwindled to just shift changes as everyone else slept on.

Eventually, though, the peace had to be broken.

"So do you know?" Donnie tried yet again.

He was still looking ahead, and in the dim lighting Leo couldn't get a read on Donnie's expression. Which meant that he just had to go with it, since he knew Donnie wouldn't let it go now that he's seemingly fixated on this.

"I… I know it, but…" Leo exhaled sharply, "I'm responsible for everyone. So this is ultimately my failure." Leo's eyes shifted from looking at Donnie to the ceiling instead.

"You know that's a load of-" Donnie started, but Leo cut in and looked back to him.

"It's not. I have the final say on almost everything. So when people die, I feel like I could have done more. And better. It's my fault because I should have done better."

Donnie doesn't immediately respond, just keeps his gaze ahead.

After the silence started to grow uncomfortable, he finally pushed off the wall and stood in front of Leo. Almost in his personal space but not quite.

"So when I organize a high-risk infiltration mission with my division that goes south, do you blame me?" Donnie asks with a neutral tone.

Leo's eyes narrowed, before they relaxed as he knew where Donnie was going with this.

"Of course not. And I know that everyone that goes on a mission is aware of the risks, it's just…" Leo rubs his forehead in frustration. "How can I not feel like it's my fault?"

Donnie closes his eyes for a moment, before eventually opening them again and fixing Leo with an honest and tired expression.

"Look, Leo. I'm not going to stand here and lie that I don't understand that exact thought process. But at the end of the day it's no one's fault but the Krang's. Remember that." Donnie punctuated the end of his statement with a squeeze of Leo's good shoulder.

Leo nodded haltingly, before the words sunk in and he felt some of the tension drain out.

Donnie mirrored the nod, and then left without any further addition. For a good measure, though, he left his hand on Leo's shoulder until he was out of reach and out the door into the hall towards his lab.

It was not long before Leo left as well, still feeling mixed emotions- but now with his anger shifted away for the most part from himself to the Krang.

The ones who took his and his brothers youth from them.

The ones who plunged the world into chaos.

The ones that continued to cause death and destruction everywhere.

Leo felt a new resolve to make sure the war effort would end in their favor. As there is no option of losing for him.

Despite all of this, however, the faces of everyone lost still visit him in his sleep as they do every night.

---------

A/N- Woohoo this concludes my tiny drabble series of the brothers and their little moments. They were fun warm-ups. :)

[waiting-on-a-dream]

𝙰𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝙳𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗)

"Are you deliberately trying to scare us? At least everyone was interrogated on the same day last time." Daisuke pipes up the moment Haruto walks into the room.

Haruto smiles, observing the way Daisuke sits lazily on his chair, considerably less tense than his previous interrogation. "I've decided that interviewing 10 prisoners in one day is too tiring."

"Ah, that makes sense."

Haruto sits down and starts the recorder right away. "So I watched your music video, and now I have more personalized questions for you. You'll answer honestly, yes?"

"I'll try." Daisuke shrugs mischievously.

Oh good. He's already being honest.

"What were your parents like?"

"Hm?" Daisuke quirked an eyebrow. "They didn't have anything to do with my murder, if that's what you're asking."

"That's not what I'm asking, but good to know." Haruto tilts his head with a hum. "I asked what they were like."

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Why are you avoiding the question?"

"I'm not." Daisuke pouts, crossing his arms almost defensively. "Fine. They were both hopeless. Haven't I told you this before?"

"Hopeless how?" Haruto presses, leaning forward in his seat.

"Well, my father was a normal office worker who was constantly bullied by his superiors. He couldn't do anything about it, and didn't try to better his situation, so he just took it for years until they finally replaced him." Daisuke talks as if he's simply commenting on the weather, face impassive and almost bored. "My mother was a housewife who would argue with my father everyday. Sometimes she'd use me as an example to try and get my father to man up or something, but he'd just shift the blame to her instead, and they'd go on arguing through the night."

Haruto didn't even know how to respond to that. "Uh... Do you tell people this about your parents often?"

"Only the people who listen." Daisuke smiles at him, eyes closed.

Haruto suddenly remembers the question he'd asked before. "Is this what you meant when you told me you're afraid of relying on people?"

"Yeah. Anyone could let you down at any time, you know?" Daisuke tilts his head, eyes opened creepily wide. "It's a dog-eat-dog world."

"Even though I don't remember anything from the outside world, I agree with you for some reason." Haruto smiles back casually.

"Your subconscious must have gotten the message."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Haruto chuckles. "Did you have any friends before coming to Milgram?"

"Again, what does this question have anything to do with what you saw in my music video?"

"This question helps me to understand you better, and in turn, what kind of murder you committed." Daisuke sure likes asking lots of questions during his own interrogation.

Daisuke sways his head left to right, pouting as he contemplates Haruto's answer. "Only one." He replies eventually, a wistful expression settling over his face. It doesn't fit Daisuke's playful demeanor at all. Yet it looks natural on him, as if he wears an expression like that often. As if he was made to feel sad.

"What were they like?"

"He was...cold. And aloof. But he looked out for me." Daisuke isn't looking at Haruto anymore, instead fiddling with his sleeves as he smiles pensively. "He was the nicest in the world."

"You haven't had much interaction with actual nice people, huh?" Haruto mutters bluntly.

"Where I worked? The nice people you meet are most likely to stab you in the back." Daisuke chuckled darkly, weakly.

"That sounds like a terrible work environment."

"It kinda was." Daisuke laughs again without humor.

Haruto decides to change the topic. "Alright. If the world was to end tomorrow, what would you do?"

"Huh? Why the sudden question?" Daisuke snaps out of his pensive state, blinking curiously at him.

"I'm just curious as to how you'll answer," he shrugs.

"Hm... I think I'd pray."

"I didn't know you're religious," Haruto raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"I'm not," Daisuke shakes his head. "I'd pray to the dead."

"Oh? To who?"

"That's a secret," Daisuke winks playfully.

"You're no fun," Haruto whines just as playfully, but he doesn't push it. "That concludes your interrogation then."

Daisuke isn't in much of a hurry to leave (unlike a certain prisoner before him). Haruto stays right where he is for some time, mulling over Daisuke's words with a finger to his chin. Sure, he's glad Daisuke gave such detailed answers... But it's rather suspicious.

He can't help but think Daisuke is hiding something.

[twiixr4kidz]

Since u said I can request sumthing else… Scott and the evil exes x reader hurt cumfert (reader is da hurt one) non head cannons Thankies -💀🎀

i can do that, yeah :33

scott and the evil exes comforting the reader

scott pilgrim

work was hard. you'd woken up at the asscrack of dawn only to go in for an 8 hour shift where you were berated, yelled at, and borderline verbally abused by needy costumers who didn't understand what the word "wait" meant. if that wasn't bad enough, you had to stay even later because somebody decided to call out. great. and then, the absolute KICKER of the day? your boss said you'd have to come in on your day off because the same person who called out today had decided to call out for the rest of the week. and that was just okay, apparently. needless to say, you left the house at 7 that morning and got home at 9 that night and you were not in a good mood AT ALL.

scott, who'd been staying at your house for the past few months, could feel it without seeing you. you'd thrown your stuff down and walked to the bedroom, face planting into the mushy surface of the blanket. he kinda just walks into the bedroom and sits next to you while you're drowning in pillows. "rough day?" he asks, not quite knowing what else to say. you confirm his suspicion with a muffled groan. a few minutes pass. "do you, uh... wanna play something with me?" you perk up just a little bit as he explains the new game he got. maybe playing it WILL make you feel better... eh, it's worth a shot.

matthew patel

you'd called matthew over without saying a word besides "get over here right now". he took it 1000% seriously and assumed the worst. that you were dying. you were not dying, but you felt like it. you woke up with a notification from a family member that something really bad had happened to somebody else, and you weren't sure what. you just needed a little comfort. you didn't expect matthew to damn near break down your door, yelling about how he's gonna hurt whoever hurt you. when he sees you, sitting on the couch with tears falling down your face, he immediately quiets down.

"hey, what happened?" he asks, tone nice and gentle and calm. you explain everything to him, and he wraps his arms around you and pulls you tight. "i'm here, okay? just let me know if there's anything i can do, and i'll do it." his body was so warm, so comforting. just what you needed.

lucas lee

there was this festival you'd been working on getting into for over a year. it was this huge celebration where people came together, sharing their wares and passions with one another. you'd gotten what you thought was a good idea, so you submitted it to the managers in hopes that you'd get accepted. after 2 months of silence, they finally reached out (and in the most unprofessional way imaginable), and said that you "wouldn't be needed". first of all, fuck you. second of all, what the fuck. it kinda hit you all of a sudden, and you called lucas as soon as you felt that drop in your stomach.

he came over as fast as he could, and you told him what had happened. he sat next to you on the couch and threw his arm over your shoulder. "yeah, i get it. you don't wanna know how many times i auditioned for roles and didn't get accepted. yknow, some of the companies who shot me down for movies in the past tried to reach out to me once i got famous." "oh yeah?" "oh, absolutely." he said, before going off on a tangent about the film industry, effectively distracting you from the reason you were upset in the first place.

todd ingram

it was one of those days. you weren't sure why exactly you were so upset, but everything that happened just made you feel even worse. whether it was good or bad. and being sad all day is really tiring, so you were eager to curl up under your blankets when you got home. turns out, you either spilled something on your bed or your pet knocked something over. but there was no way in hell you were going to lay in potentially hazardous material. so, with tears in your eyes, you stripped your bed and threw the stuff in the laundry. not before stubbing your toe, which was what threw you over the edge.

you called todd, all sniffly and sad and stuff. you asked him if he could come over, and he was on his way immediately. he put you on speaker phone and talked to you the entire way to your house. as soon as he got there, he offered to help you take care of your laundry, and told you to go get some fresh air. you sat outside, patiently waiting for him. when he finished taking the laundry out, he made your bed for you and offered to go on a much-needed walk with you.

roxie richter

roxie's incredibly clingy, so she's with you almost all the time. the one day she wasn't just happened to be the day that your college classes were totally kicking your ass. work was piling up, and there were new assignments given every day. your deadline was friday, and it was already thursday. you had barely anything done because you'd been working on personal stuff. so, needless to say, you were stressed. roxie'd been busy that day too, which was the reason she wasn't there. but as soon as she was free, she came over as fast as possible. when she arrived, you were sitting at the table, head in your arms, work strewn about. papers had fallen to the floor, some were sitting in chairs, there was work on your laptop and your phone.

she freaks out. she doesn't take her time with hearing your "excuses", instead grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the chair. you try to protest, but she stops you. "uhm, absolutely not. no. get up. come on, get up." you sigh, finally budging. you know you can't work like these, but roxie makes sure you're well aware of that. she cleans up your things, neatly piling the papers together. she closed your laptop and makes sure your phone is cleared out of the tab with all the homework on it. she then orders you to go get in a shower and wear something cute. impromptu date night. she's not gonna let you worry about your stupid work, especially not when you have all day tomorrow and plenty of projects to get extensions on.

kyle katayanagi

you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. quite literally. actually, you woke up on the floor right next to your cat's ass. that was certainly one way to start your day. you then proceeded to fall both up and down your stairs, almost break your favorite coffee mug, and your favorite CD was scratched. which you only realized when it started skipping in the middle of your favorite song. great. your already bad mood was even worse. and kyle was supposed to come over too? UGH. the last thing you wanted to do was accidentally snap at him. you warned him before he came over that you weren't having a good day, but that didn't seen to change his mind about wanting to see you.

when mr. katayanagi showed up at your door, he noticed your subpar demeanor pretty quickly. your aura was radiating a combination of anger and sadness that he couldn't quite place his finger on. kyle being kyle, he cracked a joke about how you'd been through hell and back that day. to his surprise, you chuckled softly. was this working? about 20 shitty jokes later, he finally got you to crack a smile.

ken katayanagi

ken could tell you were stressed out merely by the tone of your voice when you picked up the phone. he wasn't sure if it was your classes or work or people or something else he couldn't think of, but you knew for certain that it was everything. upcoming tests, insane hours, and lots of family drama was driving you up a wall and you didn't really have a chance to breathe between it all. it was your day off, and you didn't even get one anyways because your boss forced you to come in. when you finally got home, you were even more drained than before. it was only 6pm and you wasted the whole day doing things you didn't want to do, only for you to wake up and do it all over again.

that thought made you want to cry, so you did. ken's y/n sense were tingling, and he showed up not long after. he found you sitting on your living room floor, curled up into a ball. tears were falling down your face, you had a partially wet towel from when you showered earlier wrapped around your shoulders, and you were staring blankly at the TV. trying not to disturb you all too much, ken wiped the tears from your face and got you an actual blanket. he also brought over a cup of water and sat next to you. you were silent, watching as he took a book out of his bag and he began to read it. you put your head on his shoulder, looking over at it as he turned the page. without having to ask him, he started reading to you. you eventually fell asleep in his lap, and he picked you up and moved you to the couch. he stayed the whole night, and even woke up earlier to make you breakfast and a hot drink. having him around the house made priorities a lot easier to complete.

gideon graves

gideon had this thing in his brain where he just knew when you were upset. he could tell, even if you weren't showing any actual signs of it. he also knew he wasn't the best at helping you feel better. you were upset over something that you deemed as stupid, but that didn't really matter to you. gideon didn't like seeing you upset, so he did what he does best; he spent his money on you.

he called you over to sit with him at his desk before instructing you to "go absolutely nuts". he didn't care how much money you spent, just that you felt better. and even though material possessions didn't help in the long run, he still reveled in seeing the delighted look on your face. you did eventually get over what was upsetting you, and gideon was just happy to help.

[actuallysaiyan]

Everyone I Love is Dead(Vergil x Fem!Reader)

warnings: angst, very very very sad, mentions of suicide, very deep content matter, mentions of depression.

word count: 1.8k

pairings: Vergil x Fem!Reader

summary: Vergil worries about you when you seem to become distant, despite the fact that it is spooky season.

a/n: This is a self-indulgent little fic in a way for me. This mirrors an experience in my life and I often find myself becoming so distant and cold when it comes to this time of year. Please, if you are sensitive to the subject matter, I implore that you do not read. And as always, I'm always here to chat if you need it. You are loved and people care about you so much.

Vergil was worried. He did spend a lot of time worrying about you, but this was different. As summer came to a close, you found this new rejoice for life. It was like with the changing of the seasons and the shift of the colors of the leaves had made something snap inside of you. All of a sudden you were all about pumpkin spice and apple cider, which made Vergil groan with irritation at first. But now, he wishes all of that would return.

The month of September had been rather normal, despite your incessant chatter and excitement for what you had dubbed “spooky season”. You seemed rather chipper and cheerful, which made Vergil so relieved. He had done so much to woo you in the beginning of your relationship, but now he knew that the two of you really had a connection. He even found himself becoming excited for “spooky season”.

But once October hit, it was like something switched off inside of you again. You became a little distant, quiet and sullen. You desperately tried your best to hide it from everyone else. Trish and Lady couldn’t see past your facade. They eagerly did all kinds of girly things with you to keep you satisfied, but you were tired of masking so much. It didn’t take long for Dante to figure it out, but Vergil found himself completely clueless on the matter.

You were even a little cold and distant with him. It hurt him to see you like this. Especially during the time of year that clearly means so much to you. And yet, Vergil could find no answers to your sadness. He racked his brain, trying to find a reason for you to be feeling this way. He didn’t want to ask Dante for advice, but as the days kept going, he wondered if maybe it might not be the worst idea.

The emptiness he began to feel as you slowly got deeper and deeper into this pit of darkness just grew and grew. It became almost so unbearable for the both of you. What used to be love turned into something so dark and sad. But Vergil wanted nothing more than to do what he could to fill you with warmth. The way you had once filled him with a star’s worth of warmth. He just didn’t have any idea how he’d even be able to do something like this.

First, he knew he might actually have to ask Dante for advice. You and Dante had always been so close to one another. Dante was your confidante, whether Vergil enjoyed that or not. He had been the one to introduce you to each other, knowing your sunniness would bring some happiness to Vergil’s life. And it had done so much, so Vergil felt he owed it to you to be able to cheer you up.

Once he finally talked to Dante, he realized that this problem was lying dormant inside of you all year long. You let it fester and fester until it finally burrows a hole so deep into your heart, you can no longer find happiness. Dante wasn’t sure of the details, but he had told Vergil that you might be mourning somebody. Dante has seen you mourn people before, and it does look quite a bit like this.

“Just talk to her,” Dante finally says. “You’ll feel better about it once the two of you can just discuss it.”

“What if she won’t speak to me? I can’t stand this coldness anymore.” Vergil agonizes. He hated being so open with his brother, but this one time helped so much.

“Tell you what,” Dante explains. “I’ll leave the office now. You go get her some of those pumpkin spice donuts she is so fond of, have some coffee and mull it over.” And with that, he gets up from the desk and heads out of the office.

Vergil realizes his brother is right. He just needs to talk to you about this. But it is difficult for him to be willing to discuss things like emotions or feelings. It makes him feel so weak whenever the thought of having to discuss these topics comes up. His stomach is already in knots as he grabs his scarf from the coat rack.

Only thoughts of you consume his mind as he walks down the street. The little bakery you love dragging him to is just a few minutes away. When he gets there, he realizes just how much he misses having you bring him here. Even the workers are surprised to see him alone without you. He sighs softly before ordering some of those donuts and two coffees.

One of the workers asks about you, and he has to lie to protect you from the possible judgment this stranger may place upon you. He says that you’ve fallen ill and that he was just picking these up for you to cheer you up. The employees all send their well wishes and Vergil walks home with this guilt that he lied to them.

Once he arrives home, it’s quiet. Too quiet for him, and he prefers it this way in the first place. He climbs the stairs to your shared room and he places his ear on the door. Nothing is coming from inside. You must be sleeping again. He knocks gently at first(as best as he can with all these treats), but still no response. Finally, he goes inside. He sees you on the bed, and you’re holding a photograph in your hands. Your eyes are glossy with tears and some of them have stained your cheeks. You look so pitiful, it’s breaking his heart.

“Darling,” Vergil says softly. You look over at him, and you have no more energy to be ashamed. “I brought you some refreshments.”

“Don’t want ‘em.” You let out. Vergil’s heart clenches in his chest. You sound so defeated.

He places the coffees on the bedside table and he hands you the little bag holding the donuts and the donut holes. You muster the softest sob when you realize what he’s brought you. It just breaks you even more.

“Please, sparrow. Please talk to me,” Vergil pleads. He doesn’t want to see you like this anymore. “I want to help.”

You finally sniffle and sit up. Your fingers poke into the bag until you reach for a donut. The crumbs spill onto your shirt and the sheets, and you chuckle softly. 

“ I guess I owe you an apology,” you tell him as you bite into the treat. “And an explanation,”

Vergil is pleased to hear this. But still, it stings to see you in such a sad state. Especially when he thought for so long that you had been cold to him because you were falling out of love with him. But he can see now that it isn’t the case.

You hand him the photograph. It’s you and a guy that looks around your age. He has his arm slung around you, pulling you close and you both are smiling widely. 

“It’s his birthday tomorrow.” you begin. “He would have been my age.” 

“Who is this?” Vergil asks, his finger ghosting over the image of you and the guy.

“It’s–it was my friend. My friend who I loved so dearly,” a hiccup falls from your lips. “But he was sick, Vergil. He was so sick and he found himself unable to get help.”

Vergil swallows hard when he realizes what you mean. He doesn’t think he likes where this story is going, but he will not interrupt you. Not when you are finally spilling your guts to him. He hands you the coffee and takes a moment to wipe your face with a napkin.

“We were so close. It was like we were siblings. We would fight like cats and dogs, but at the end of the day, he might have been the only person to truly have my back.” He can see in your eyes that you have a million and one regrets. Vergil knows that feeling all too well.

“Then one day, he just left town. He was moving back home, and he left me here. We had always promised to make plans to see one another, but they never came to fruition. Then one day, I got a call from his sister.” You choke up at this, unsure if you can even keep telling the story.

Vergil sits patiently, listening to you and hanging onto your every word. It pains him so much to know you’ve been holding onto this for so long. You sit up a bit more now, and you take a long swig of the coffee. The thought of finishing this story is just too much to bear, but you know you should just finish it and get this all off of your chest.

“She calls me and she tells me…she tells me he’s dead. The police had come to her door and they had told her they found his body. I don’t even know how long he was dead for. I didn’t bother asking.”

Vergil lets a curse fall from his lips and you nod your head. It takes you a few more moments and a few more swigs of coffee before you even try to finish. You tell him how you weren’t even able to go to the funeral, but you had so desperately wanted to. Even now, you wonder if things had been different if you had gone with your friend.

“Oh sparrow,” Vergil whispers softly. He is afraid to do something wrong at this moment. “I’m so sorry you’ve been holding onto these feelings for so long.”

You sniffle softly and you crawl over to him. You wrap your arms around the man in front of you. The one you love so completely. The one who has done all of this just to get your attention and to try to make you feel better. Vergil, the man who has gone through so much in his life, is actually trying to make you feel better.

“I am so lucky to have you in my life, Vergil.” You press a kiss to his lips. Then you lean your forehead to his. “Without you, my life would be so meaningless. And I live my life every day just so I can be with you and love you completely.”

His face turns red at your sweet words. He doesn’t remember the last time he has heard something so kind and loving. Maybe these are the sweetest words he’s ever heard.

“My love,” Vergil begins. “I promise to always be here for you. I may not know what to say or the right thing to do, but please do not shut me out like this again.”

You smile softly and kiss him again, “I promise.” Then there’s a pause. “Anymore donuts?”

With a chuckle, he hands you the bag again to your delight. All is well for now.

[head-empty-just-shikamaru]

Walls of Steel (part 1)

shikamaru x gn!reader

Warnings: discussions about chronic depression, medication, hopelessness, anxiety, (BRIEF) mentions of suicidal thoughts, just a whole lot of self-indulgent angst (and comfort). This might be triggering for some of you, so proceed with caution, please.

Premise: You tell Shikamaru nothing feels like it's getting better- that you feel like you're drowning in your misery. Turns out that Shikamaru has a lot more emotional intelligence than you give him credit for.

A/N: Highkey going through what feels like hell right now, wrote this to comfort myself with delusions. I see so many "x reader" fics centered around the idea of a depressed reader. But I have yet to read one that TRULY captures the intensity of depression and its effects on people. It always feels so watered down. I also really wanted to highlight the ugly, not romanticized aspects of depression no one really talks about. If you have any critique to offer then I urge you to give me feedback. It's my first time writing a piece of fiction and I'm still an amateur. I would like to get better at writing.

(HOLY SHIT I WAS NOT EXPECTING MY FIRST FIC TO BE SO LONG)

You faintly hear the whirring of the fan in your dimly lit room, although it's not doing much to cool you down when you're wrapped up in such thick blankets. Your body is damp with sweat and your eyes bleary from drowsiness- but frustratingly enough you're not tired enough to actually fall asleep, and yet your body can't muster up the energy to do anything but lie in bed.

Ugh. How incredibly annoying.

Your mind may be drowsy, but it still echoes with self-deprecating thoughts. Thoughts of hopelessness, self-hatred, anger, confusion..... it suffocates you and holds down your whole body like a mysterious, invisible pressure that no one else seems to feel but you. A pressure that was so powerful it left you frozen and helpless on the bed. Your thoughts are slowly taking a darker turn as you start contemplating for the millionth time in your life whether you should take one too many of your pills and just end it all. You're quickly running out of reasons to restrain yourself from doing so and that realization only sends you further down your depressive spiral. Your chest is tight and it's hard to breathe. Or maybe that's just the blankets suffocating you? Who knows.

Actually, how long have I been here anyway?

It must've been hours because the room had been gradually getting dimmer and dimmer as the day went on. You'd been in the same spot since afternoon, and now it was dark out. You squint your eyes in the darkness to check the clock and your eyes widen.

No way. It's 7:00 PM. How?

You flop back on the bed in disbelief and curl in on yourself underneath the thick blankets once again.

I've wasted yet another day doing nothing productive. How pathetic.

And suddenly, you hear your front door click and unlock. A voice calls out your name and your stomach drops.

Shit. It's Shikamaru.

Why did you think it was a good idea to give him the keys to your place anyway? You really should have thought this through a little more. Shika might be your boyfriend, but the idea that he can now come and go as he pleases is not ideal in the slightest. Not when it's the one place you allow yourself to let your guard down, where you release all the horrible feelings you suppress in public just to get through the day and function like a normal human being.

You hear his footsteps get closer to the room and shut your eyes quickly. Maybe if you pretend to be asleep, he'll leave you alone.

Please, please, please, just fall for it and leave already.

Your bedroom door clicks open and you hear him flip a switch. The room is flooded with light and your already shut eyes squeeze tighter under the covers from the sudden brightness in the room. You feel the mattress shift as you realize that Shikamaru is now sitting next to your laying form. A sudden silence fills the air until Shikamaru finally breaks it.

"I know you're awake- there's no way you're not uncomfortable with how hot it is under those blankets. You can stop acting like you're actually taking a nap, babe."

You recognize the slight humor laced in his tone and it only worsens your already bitter mood. Actually, "bitter" was quite an understatement.

Depression had made you so miserable that not only did you envy others in their ability to function better and feel happy, but now it made you hate them too. It made you feel like shit to see others live a life that made it impossible for them to comprehend how all-consuming this illness was. How could they understand that it made you paranoid of every slight shift in tone in any conversation, made you paranoid of people secretly hating you? That it made you question your own character, your own worthiness? That it made you lose sight of the consequences of your reckless actions on your own mental and physical health? That it made you dysfunctional?

Obviously, this means that Shikamaru was now one of the many victims of your silent wrath and jealousy. You had secretly grown to resent his attitude towards life. His carefree nature towards it all, the way he complained about the things you wish you had. You wish you had his "nagging" parents, you wish you had his amazing support system provided by his friends. You couldn't imagine why he would ever complain about the very people who supported him and contributed to his stable, happy life.

You, on the other hand, felt as if you had nobody to rely on. For most of your life that was your reality. Even your family wasn't supportive, and they hurt you so much. You had to deal with your illness and trauma on your own. However, recently you had managed to make friends who seemed genuine in their efforts to be there for you- Shikamaru was one of them, although he was more than just a friend.

And that's just it isn't it? You're dating him because you love him far more than you hate him. Despite your secret resentment against him, you love him so, so dearly. You would climb mountains for him. You loved so much about him. The was he was so uncharacteristically patient with you. The was he affectionately called you "troublesome" and ruffled your hair, with the softest smile on his pretty face. How incredibly gorgeous he was (truly, he was out of your league). The way he loved your body even if you hated it. The fact that he smelled like musky pinewood. The way you felt so safe and wanted in his arms. The fact that he gave such warm firm hugs every time he saw you (if no one else was around of course- he was quite shy with affection in public. And you loved that too. You found it adorable, really). And even though you envied how effortlessly good he was at everything despite his laziness due to his genius (because your efforts always seemed to fall flat no matter what you tried and no matter how hard you tried to excel at it), you truly admired him for it. His intelligence made him an excellent person to have long conversations with no matter the topic. And you were so proud of him for becoming the Hokage's right-hand man. You have no doubt he has wonderful things ahead for him, things he deserves.

And that's why you hate yourself more than you could ever hate him or anybody else. Because he was a good man who deserved better than you. And even though he was patient with you, you were always aware that he dreamed of a simple life with a simple, happy family. You were far from simple. Or happy.

"I really was trying to fall asleep, you know. I'm just tired and I really don't like you showing up randomly like this. You should let me know earlier if you're planning to come over so I know ahead of time".

Your tone is the complete opposite of his- cold, mechanical, distant, and especially unamused. You hate yourself for talking to him this way, but you can't help yourself. Normally you're good at putting on an act, but he really caught you off-guard with his little visit. You figure it's best to keep this conversation as short as possible so you don't fly off the rails and lose your cool.

"Please just get up. We need to talk because this is urgent".

Wait..... what?

Was he breaking up with you?

Nonononono! I'm not ready for this! Please!

Were you too late? You were planning on breaking it off eventually, but you wanted to do it before he truly saw you for who you were before he could resent you for it. It's not like you really wanted to stop being with him, but you simply wanted to avoid the pain of rejection. Plus he deserved better anyway. If he broke it off first, that means you were too late. You couldn't bear the idea of him abandoning you first.

Externally, you look fine but internally your brain is flooded with anxiety, as you silently panic and pray that you're wrong. You silently sit up and glance at him. Every ounce of your focus is now put into appearing as calm and unbothered as you can, but your heart continues to pound and you wonder if Shikamaru can hear it.

"Alright, what did you want to talk about?"

Shikamaru turns his body towards your direction and takes note of your messy hair, dazed look in your eyes, and unclean appearance. As you watch him examine your appearance briefly, you feel embarrassed. You had neglected to bathe for a few days and you wonder if you smell. The back of your neck burns with shame as you wonder if he's repulsed by your smell. It doesn't really help that your room looks like grabage with how messy and unkempt it is. He looks around and sees clothes and papers strewn about everywhere. You feel blood rush to your cheeks and wish you could crawl in a hole to escape the awkwardness of the situation. You really needed him out. Now.

"I'm worried about you, sweetheart. Please just talk to me and tell me what's wrong. I want to help".

"What are you talking about?"

"Why are you so distant from me all of a sudden? Everyone is so worried about you! It feels like you're always in a different world than me. I never know what you're thinking and how you're really feeling. And you're clearly not taking care of yourself! I'm aware it's hard to do that when you're depressed, but you seem to be getting worse and I'm worried! Please just trust me".

"You can't. Because you can't understand what I'm dealing with".

Shikamaru lets out a gruff sound of frustration and scowls at you.

"Then help me understand, dammit!"

And all of a sudden, something inside you just..... breaks.

You slowly put your head in your hands as the tightening in your chest becomes so unbearable that there are now tears rolling down your face. Your vision is blurring. Breathing feels so difficult. You hear ringing in your ears. You hold your breath and gasp for air simultaneously to avoid making noise- a habit you developed as a child to prevent drawing attention to yourself when crying. Your shoulders violently shake as your body wracks from your silent sobs. Your face is slowly turning red, adding to your humiliation. You feel Shikamaru's faint touch on your shoulder recoil away from it immediately.

"LEAVE! GET OUT, I SAID I DON'T WANT YOU HERE!"

Your voice is shrill and watery as you make a beeline for the bathroom, and your face was still hidden away from his point of view.

For a brief moment, Shikamaru just sits there frozen in shock. He had never seen his sweetheart cry, let alone snap at him like that. He knew you were diagnosed with depression even before you two started dating, but..... things only seemed to be getting worse. Are your medications not working? Are you skipping out on it? What is going on and why didn't he notice something was wrong sooner? However, he quickly snaps out of his shock and speedwalks his way to the now locked bathroom. He knocks at the door.

"I'm not leaving. I love you too much for that, even if you're being unusually stubborn and childish right now".

God. You really don't deserve him.

There's a pause of silence before you finally speak up:

"I want to break up with you, Shikamaru. I'm done with this relationship. I'm so incredibly exhausted and I don't see a point of continuing this when I know it's not going to last. So please leave".

Now it was his turn to panic.

"....what...?"

[animeyanderelover]

This one wanted to be kept anonymous and what is asked shall be done.

Request: Can you please do Prompt 72 for Claude Faustus?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, overprotectiveness, kidnapping, sabotage, manipulation, teasing

Prompt 72: “Do you want your underwear back?”

You hated approaching that man, you hated being with him, no matter how hard he might try to change your mind. Being stuck with someone who wasn't even a human was really everything, but pleasant. Being completely isolated in a cottage you weren't allowed to leave was unpleasant. And the trues cherry on top of everything was his personality, rge unbelievable confidence he seemed to have in himself that he would get you to love him and all the teasing and provoking just to get his sadistic fun out of it.

His methods were rather simple, but smart and effective nevertheless. Whenever you were ignoring him, he did something to leave you with no choice but to seek for him. As much as you hated admitting it, he was the one who took care of you, meaning that without him you wouldn't be provided with the basic needs a human needed daily for living. Because you knew from previous experiences that as much as he chose to be lenient, Claude got quickly annoyed and was ready to punish you when you made him snap which didn't end always well. It wasn't like he hurt you physically, but he very much always showed you that he was the one in power and the one you would have to rely on for everything. Clearing this up hurt your pride more than anything else and you just knew that he wanted to embarrass you by having you admitting it.

Making you come to him, having you pleading him to help you had to be the most shameful for you to do, having to do what he wanted just so you would also get what you wanted. It wasn't good for your own self-esteem and knowing Claude, he did everything on purpose so this would happen. Your guess was to feed his ego a bit by knowing that you had to come to him when you needed help.

He probably intended to push you into developing Stockholm syndrome and forcing you to think that he was all you needed, you had figured out that his kind seemed to be more possessive over persons they had chosen as their "mates".

If you remembered right one of your friends had once told you that it was her dark fantasy to have someone going after her who would be ready to kill for her, everyone seemed to like this thought of having someone loving them who would do anything for the person of desire. And back then you might have even wanted the same, but now you could have beaten your ounger self up for thinking about this. People only knew better after having witnessed certain things, same counting for you. You were alone, helpless, left at the mercy of your captor.

You were in no condition to look in those golden eyes, not wanting to see the same amused and pleased look from all of this. No, absolutely not. But even without looking up, you felt those eyes sliding over your body, causing goosebumps to start coverin your whole body and your face to burn up, knowing what would await you in your nearest future.

It was all his fault, he had done it once again on purpose, you knew it had to be true. Why else would his eyes linger a bit longer on the place between your legs that currently was at it's most vulnerable, unprotected which added a new kind of shame to all of this? He must have done it, there was no other explanation.

"You seem to feel tonight a bit more bold than usual, don't you think so?", he asked, the slight amusement in his voice all too audible which had you boiling even more. How much you would have died to just smash him in his face to feel satisfaction. But it would only be for a few seconds before you might agitate Claude and making him angry was not a good idea, not in the least bit. Especially now that you were left so exposed.

"Claude...Where is my underwear?", you pressed out, eyes still trained on the wooden floor under your feet, not a single scratch or trace of dust on it. That you had to give Claude, he made sure that the house always stayed in top shape. What had he said once before? A pretty house for his pretty made? Something in that direction.

Black and polished shoes entered your vision, the sudden closeness causing your skin to crawl and make you stumble frightened a few feet back, not having sensed his fast approach. A short huff of air was heard from him, sounding like he was a bit annoyed and yet entertained by this small act of yours, making you bite angrily your tongue. Making yourself look like a fool wasn't what you planned on doing whilst being with him. It gave him only more stuff to irritate you with.

"(y/n)...I thought we already talked about this. You have to look someone in the eyes when you want something from them. Otherwise I'm afraid I won't be able to help you and you know I will gladly do anything for you if you would just let me. If you just wouldn't be that incorrigible."

Ah yes, that shit again. Your manners and the tantrums you sometimes threw about the situations you were stuck in, the disapproving looks from Claude whenever you acted out of the place, the constant lecturing that came afterwards. He really came in such scenarios over as a butler who wanted to make sure that others were behaving like they should be and scolding them if they didn't. It put you always down whenever he pointed those things out, you knew you weren't perfect and him rubbing it constantly under your nose wasn't helpful. It led you to such moments where you just felt like you were under average, reaching your lower points.

It was no reason to give up nor was it an excuse to stop fighting, especially since the butler planned on making you feel that way, to slowly break you. Still, he was currently the only person you were able to see, meaning there was no one to cheer you up, no one to tell you otherwise. You were all on your own with the only source of comfort being the golden-eyed man. And there were those times where you questioned if giving up your pride was the better and less painful option and indeed just giving in would make your life easier. The moments where you became all too aware of the one and only fact. That a human wouldn't be able to beat a demon, at least not a human like you.

This was one of those moments where you felt like a fly trapped in the web of the spider and where the only option was pleading and hoping he would choose to be lenient with you. "Just standing there and not saying anything won't help you nor can I help you when you are like this. If you don't have anything to say, please go back to bed. It's pretty late and I have to leave tomorrow morning early to work in the manor of my master."

He didn't sound happy whilst saying it, you knew that he didn't really like how his master was constantly bossing him around and on some days he complained for a few seconds about what a brat that boy really was, even more when because of him Claude had to be kept busy which meant leaving you longer alone.

You were stuck in denial, not thinking it would be good to do as he said. Not letting having it the way he wanted it to go was important for your own sanity, to prevent you from getting caught in his trap and grow over time too dependent on him. But you also could estimate what would happen afterwards. He would take something else from you away to push you into having to ask him once again and he would continue this for as long as he had the patience. That meant for you more and more embarrassment and hurt. Was that what you wanted? Or should you just go with the easy option to keep the damage as small as possible and live with this scratch on your pride?

You heard his footsteps slowly fading more and more away from you telling you that he was leaving you in your frozen state behind. Why wouldn't he? He had the time and the power to do so. Claude knew that the one way or another you would have to come to him and it was what allowed him to have confidence. This luxury was sadly only open for him whilst you were only allowed to live a good life for as long as he was pleased with how you acted. It was cruelly unfair, but you knew that this was how life was. The one in power and the one at the bottom.

"Wait.", you called faintly after him, making him stop, golden eyes being met with yours, the look in them being comparible with being tired and done with something. You looked leached out, your pride already having taking so many blows before and every time it became harder to fix the damage and pain he put you through like this. Maybe there would come a time where you would have to give up indeed, you doubted that anyone would be able to stay strong whilst suffering from this. But maybe you were wrong and there were people out there who would be able to stand their ground. And maybe you just weren't this person.

"Claude...My underwear.", you slowly muttered out, forcing your gaze to not waver too much and stay on him, knowing you would have to repeat it again if you would look away. And that would mean more poison for you to swallow.

"Do you want your underwear back?", he asked with a silk-like voice, smoothly walking with a few huge steps over to you to take a better look at your current state. How wonderful, he felt extremely satisfied in that one moment. You were slowly being stripped off your stubborness to accept him, instead starting to to him when you needed something. Just two months ago you wouldn't have even thought in your wildest dreams to ask him for help. It just told him that you were slowly breaking, were getting exhausted from all of this.

"Yes. Please.", you said in a more quiet voice, now that he was being so close to you again you felt your gaze shifting somewhere completely else, still not being able to shake the drilling look of him off. Hopefully he wouldn't force you to ask him once again.

"See? This wasn't as hard after all wasn't it?" His voice was laced with a certain sweetness in it, leaving you with a bitter stinging in your heart. That was not true at all. You had just now sacrificed a part of your own confidence. Not like he would care. And not like you would tell him that. You didn't feel in the mood to do so and now it would be dangerous to do so, whilst you felt so incredibly small and helpless. It would be too easy for him to get in your head.

Instead of answering you let out a noise akin to a gentle hum, making yourself a bit smaller, feeling a bit intimidated by the way he was towering over you. Claude seemed to take notice of this and to your surprise he was suddenly kneeling in front of you, although you had almost bet he would push your buttons a bit more right now. But maybe he didn't feel in the mood to be that way, not after you had for the first time ever finally broken a bit in front of him.

With his own face suddenly so close to his, you had no other place to avoid those golden eyes, scanning slowly over your embarrassed and ashamed expression. "You don't have to be scared of me. You know that I wouldn't hurt you. I'm not lowlife like other creatures you might have met."

"Then why do you do this to me?", you stuttered out, by now feeling your eyes tearing up. "Because I only want the best for you. I know how to treat you good, better than anyone else. And all I try to do is helping you to realize this. It would make life easier for you too. I just want you to trust me."

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter One - Disclosure

A/N: This was supposed to be a Jax x Fem!OC fanfic, but it took a little turn as I started to write more of it. So, it’ll be Tig x Fem!OC, but Jax does play a very important role in this.

SUMMARY: A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of murder, the guy that got his ass shit is in this one. Jax and Tig get their own warnings, too, for obvious reasons.

The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom. It only brings weary.

John Teller was always so astute.

His judicious character befell his son, too. Jax had that same perceptive nature as his old man--everyone would comment on that.

To Isla, it was admirable. For Jackson Teller to be a man of such stature--to hold such a reputation--and to remain somewhat level-headed through it all, was only something she could commend.

She'd seen many of her father's friends crumble under the pressure of Samcro, unable to balance the weight of living with the responsibility and commitment to the club, and meet their unfortunate demise--in some not-so extreme cases.

But Jax was different. He'd always been different.

Maybe that wasn't so great, however.

"You're fucking insane, Isla."

"Not insane." She mumbled, sifting through the box of shitty medical supplies that Gemma had left atop the pool table last night.

"Just trying to patch this shit up so Hayes doesn't kick the fucking bucket before Jax gets back here."

Tig snarled. "But it might be infected, and the bullet is still in this dude's ass--"

Isla whipped her head to glare at the man, her eyes wide, forehead slick with sweat--and a little blood, too.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Isla--"

"Tig, with all due respect, unless you're gonna help, please get the fuck outta here."

"That's not gonna suffice," he pointed out, referring to the medical tape, ignoring her scolding.

She wanted to throttle him. Truly, Isla was willing to wrap her crimson-coated fingertips around Tig's neck and squeeze the absolute life out of that man.

"I know." Her lips kneaded together in frustration, watching her father dab an alcohol-infused pad on the wound. "But unless you've got any better ideas, then we're just gonna have to keep reapplying this shit."

"But the infection, Isla."

"But the lack of medical equipment, Tig."

He slapped his palm against the table and glared at her, pointedly. "Why've you gotta be such a bitch all the time, huh?"

"Watch it, Trager." Piqued, Chibs growled.

"I'm not a bitch all the time," she dismissed her father, wiping at her palm with a wet rag. "I'm actually able to control the way I act around other people."

"Oh, fuck you--"

"Christ!"

The Scot's yell was muffled by the cap of his whiskey bottle, his hand pressing against Cameron's skin as the man screamed into the cloth Isla had placed underneath his head.

"God, for fucks sake, both of you just pack it in."

"Chibs--"

"Shut the fuck up. You're a fucking geriatric and you're spending your morning bickering with an almost thirty-year-old. Grow up, Tig."

Despite laughing at his comment, and enjoying the irritation wash over the other man's face, she felt bad.

For riling her father up--who was simply trying to help the innocent Irishman caught in the literal crossfire--she felt fucking awful. Especially because he never seemed to get mad at her all too often.

Tig, though...That was a different story entirely.

"I'm gonna go see if Clay has any more shit lying 'round here." She declared, throwing a damp towel onto the table, backing out of the room.

Her heart was in her throat, stomach in damn knots. Isla wasn't confident that Cameron was going to make it--not with such a deep wound.

And in his ass, too? Jesus. She wasn't confident at all.

Of course, she'd seen men get shot. Her own father, for one. But she hadn't seen somebody have to go so long without actual medical attention.

Chibs was ex-army med, but there was only so much a man could've done with a bottle of liquor, gauze, and a towel.

She was relieved that the bullet hit Cameron and not Clay, though. As sick as it sounded, she was so fucking glad that he'd managed to dodge the line of fire--initially intended for his own skull--and come out completely unscathed.

But for every ounce of relief she'd felt, an even more fervid sense of anger prevailed at the thought of Jax taking so damn long with those medical supplies he'd sought to get last night.

Gemma mentioned something about heading to the hospital--or a friend's house, or something--but Isla wasn't paying any mind to the woman as she, and Chibs, were trying all ways to stop the bleeding coming from Cameron's ass cheek.

It was the most bizarre turn of events she'd ever experienced.

One minute, Isla was sipping on a glass of wine while she eagerly awaited the spirited ping of her tiny microwave oven, ready to spend a rare--though well fucking deserved--night alone.

However, things took a drastic turn when she received a call from Tig--on behalf of a very busy Chibs--casually requesting her assistance because the Mayans had tried to assassinate Clay.

But Tig failed to mention that the man was completely fine.

She'd spent fifteen minutes on the way over mentally preparing herself, wondering what hell she'd walk into when she set foot into the clubhouse. But it was normal--strangely so.

Isla wasn't a professional, she didn't exactly know how to handle such a trauma, but she trusted her father and she just wanted to make sure he had a helping hand.

God knows that Tig wouldn't have been very much use, and Juice was a little nervous--though, he was doing incredibly well throughout the ordeal regardless of his internal apprehension.

"How's it looking?" Gemma threw at Isla, getting to her feet.

"Bloody."

She quickly scanned the room, taking in the uncomfortably sparse bar. It wasn't usually so empty, so quiet.

Clay, Gemma, and Juice. That was it. Not even Piney--not even Epps.

"Is he doing okay?"

It was still early in the day, though. She guessed that they'd pop in once they properly came around.

"He's better than he was last night." The brunette nodded. "Dad is certain the laceration is gonna get infected if we leave it any longer without trying to get the bullet out--"

"You've gotta wait 'til Jax gets back here, Isla, we can't risk Hayes dying on us."

"I know, Clay. He's just fucking tired--he's been up all night. We need a real medic on the scene before something bad happens. It's only a matter of time."

He mumbled something to himself that only Gemma seemed to catch, but Isla didn't particularly give a damn at that point. Like Chibs, she was exhausted.

The tattered and torn plaid shirt she had thrown over a random tank top--now smeared with another man's blood--was wrenched between her fingers as she pulled it off, folding it not-so-neatly.

She hadn't dealt with such a bloody wound in a while. Not since her mother's palm, decorated with shards of glass, was in dire need of stitches and her father was across the country, unable to offer his medical assistance.

"I'll grab one of Jax's shirts for you--"

"No, Gemma, it's okay," she smiled, taking a seat on one of the couches opposite her.

The older woman pinched her eyebrows together skeptically, watching Isla shift. "I insist."

"It's fine." Isla was adamant. "I'm gonna head home as soon as Jax gets back here--if he gets back here--so, really, it's fine."

A minimal amount of already dried blood was spread over her wrists and fingers, and the excess had been rubbed off on her crimson flannel, so she didn't particularly feel bad about making any mess.

Though, she shouldn't have felt bad. Not after she'd been coerced into helping and eventually receiving that shitty reception from Tig.

"Aren't you cold?" She questioned, waiting for Isla to capitulate, but she never did.

The thought of wearing one of Jax's shirts--after it being given to her by his fucking mother--didn't sit right with her for some reason. Plus, she didn't particularly feel like walking out of that building wearing the damn reaper on her back.

She didn't want to flaunt their patch. Not any more than she already had been for the last ten years.

"Where the fuck is he?"

Clay glared at the clock on the wall, realizing they'd been without the Vice President for hours. In an attempt to put him at ease, Gemma ran a hand along his shoulder.

Isla could only watch them--admire, perhaps.

"He told us he was gonna swing by Tara's place for the equipment. But that was last night, man." Juice shrugged, circling the lip of his beer bottle with his thumb.

She felt her throat thicken with a sick sense of trepidation. She hadn't heard that name in years.

"Tara?" She stuttered, feeling Gemma's piercing glare.

The woman hated Jax's first love, though she never said it aloud. Isla knew her perception of her, however, and she'd started to feel the exact same as the years went on.

Bitch.

"Yeah, y'know, Tara Knowles--"

Her heart sank--fuck that, it dove straight to the deep caverns of her chest, throbbing away into nothing. Until she felt completely void of all emotion. Completely fucking numb.

"I know her, Juice." Her response came hastily, snappy. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to say that."

He shrugged it off. "It's alright. I wasn't expecting her to be back in town, either. I thought you already knew."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Isla's head shook.

The crow situated at the bottom of her spine began to smolder, blistering away at her skin until she physically flinched.

It was a brilliant idea at the time, getting a matching tattoo with Jax's old lady--the one woman she truly adored and trusted, never once feeling an ounce of malice toward.

Because that was a rare thing for Isla, and she wanted their friendship--and relation to Samcro--to prevail for eternity, she supposed.

But as time went on and Tara decided to distance, and eventually alienate, herself from the club, an ample sense of regret persisted for fucking months.

Isla loathed her ink. She hated the negative connotation of the crow she once lauded, and the mere idea of that thing being slapped above her ass forever churned her stomach.

It wasn't one of her finest moments, she had to admit. But she was young and extremely fucking dumb. She'd bet top dollar that Tara felt the same--if she hadn't gotten the crow covered up already.

"Jesus, Jax, where were you?!"

Her eyes flicked upward, attention on the blonde as he sauntered across the wooden floor of the bar.

She hadn't even noticed his presence until Clay spoke, but she soon started to heed how Jax was trembling a bit with every step that he took.

It wasn't obvious. To most people, the slight shake of his wrist would've gone completely unnoticed. But to Isla--to the most observant woman in Charming--his discomfort was striking.

Jax ignored him, stomping his way toward the back room. His line of sight never satisfied Isla's. It didn't even come close to it, either.

Something had happened. It was obvious that, in the time he had been with Tara, he'd encountered something grizzly enough to chill him to the bone.

Which was saying something, what with the horrific shit that he'd already seen in his time.

"Jax!" Clay yelled, following closely behind him. "Hey, asshole, where the fuck did you put the bag--"

"I've got it."

If she had the option, Isla would've allowed the floor to swallow her fucking whole.

"Tara." Pissed, Gemma acknowledged. "You're here because?"

"I asked her to help, mom."

"But Chibs had it covered. He just needed some actual instruments--"

"Gemma, quit it."

She simply nodded at her son, not wanting to cause another problem that she'd have to fix later--which, honestly, Isla was shocked to see.

"He's in there--"

"I know." Jax cut her short, ushering Tara to the back of the clubhouse--striving to get her into the room before she heeded Isla.

But she did.

The first person she clocked--aside from Clay--was Isla Telford, the woman she had purposely alienated herself from ten fucking years ago.

It wasn't anything that she'd particularly done to Tara, more like the crowd she ran with--and the way her loyalties never seemed to lay very closely to her friends, or anything outside of the club.

Isla wasn't a part of Samcro--she didn't want to be a part of Samcro--but her coalition was strong enough to convince anybody that she was more than merely a daughter of a Sgt. at Arms.

She had been brought up around the Sons--her father's choice, of course--and when her mother passed, she had no choice but to dive a little bit deeper into that world. But, as expected, it was constantly under the watchful eye of her old man.

She was dedicated to them. They were, essentially, family, and she was an honorary member.

"Isla." Jax mumbled, nodding his head toward the entrance of the clubhouse as he closed the back-door. "Outside."

He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his leather vest, shaking the box as he strived to seem a little less suspicious to Clay and his mother.

The blonde wobbled to her feet--knees weak after hours of standing--while simultaneously pulling her bloodied flannel back onto svelte, freckled arms, recognizing that the chill was to hit her the second she stepped onto the gravel.

Jax was casual while he strutted ahead, taking long strides that Isla found fucking impossible to keep up with.

He pushed the door to close behind her, offering a cigarette that she hastily declined.

"What's she doing here?" Was how she decided to break the silence, her eyes searching for a hint of something written on his face.

But there was nothing. Not an ounce of emotion--scarily so.

"She's fixing Cameron up--"

"Not at the clubhouse, Jax. I meant back in Charming."

He ran a thumb across his lower lip, trying to soften his gaze on Isla, but it was futile. He looked discomposed--unsettled.

"She's uh--she's workin' at the hospital now." She started to nod, waiting for his elaboration. It never came, however.

"Oh, that's nice. I wonder what happened in Chicago...Do you know why she's back here? Or how long she's gonna be staying in town--"

"You sound like my fucking mother--give it a break with the thirty-seven questions about Tara, damnit."

He snarled, heeding the distaste of his words the second she glowered at him.

"Excuse you?"

"I didn't call you out here for a sweet little conversation, Isla, I called you 'cause I need your help--"

"With what?"

Jax's hand hooked onto the back of his neck while he tilted his head to look upward, thinking of a way--any fucking way--to explain just what damn mess he'd found himself entwined with over the course of the last twenty-four hours.

He didn't know what to say or how to say it--if he should've fucking said it. He trusted Isla with his life--always had--but sometimes he appreciated that she mightn't have appreciated finding herself tangled within Jax's boisterous, at times frightening, life.

But it was too late for that. She'd been dragged through the deepest shit and wasn't crumbling that easily.

"Jax--"

"Kohn." He stated simply, waiting for the cogs of her brain to begin turning.

"What about him? You got in trouble with the ATF or something? Because we can handle that--"

"I already did." Jax laughed humorlessly, finally meeting Isla's line of sight.

The skin underneath his eyes was red raw, blotchy and irritated after he had used the sleeve of his hoodie to scrub away the tears he'd shed.

The tears he hadn't wanted to shed, but had fallen freely--uncontrollably--from those cerulean hues Isla never tired of looking at.

"What do you mean by that?" Nervously, she quizzed.

He didn't even have to say anything. She fucking knew. She knew exactly what he meant by that, but there was a tiny morsel of something within her that hoped and prayed that he'd declare that her gut feeling was wrong.

But he couldn't. Because it was right. Like always, Isla's intuition didn't fail her.

"Jax, honey, what did you do--"

"I killed Kohn."

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

Helloo! I love reading your work, especially your comfort posts. I just wanted to make a request if you could do iwaizumi, tsukishima, ushijima, and akaashi giving comfort to the reader after they’ve had a heartbreak and have been breaking down (maybe when the character and reader are not in the same place). Thank you so much and keep up your work!

hello sweet anon!!

ty for the kind words, I’m glad to hear you enjoy my work (⌒ ‿ ⌒) 

I know heartbreak comes in all shapes and sizes but I decided to do these based on a breakup heartbreak sooooo yeah 

alsoooo I only made the second portion of characters to be in a different place as the reader bc I found it quite difficult to do them all like that so I hope that’s alright

I apologize in advance if any of this wasn't what you had in mind 

I hope you enjoy regardless <3

(after finishing this I'm low-key disappointed in how it came out buuut this is the outcome of my writers block sooo hehe) (/^-^(^ ^*)/ 

•Iwaizumi, Tsukishima, Ushijima, and Akaashi Comforting a Brokenhearted Friend•

warnings: platonic relationship (best friends), mentions of cheating, heartbreak, breakups and a few curse words

genre: comfort

characters: iwaizumi, tsukishima, ushijima, + akaashi

•Iwaizumi•

groggily opening his door at two in the morning to you sobbing was not exactly the way iwaizumi would have imagined starting his day

you and iwaizumi had been best friends since your first year of highschool, so it wasn't abnormal for you to pop up at his home unannounced from time to time

but this was a whole different story

the sleep had immediately been stripped from his mind as he pulled you inside and into a tight embrace

“Woah, woah, woah Y/N. What’s wrong?”

you wanted to answer him right there and then but you choked on your words, cries forming instead of any explanation

he was patient though, allowing you to cry until you ran out of tears to shed as he rubbed soft circles into your back

he had a feeling your trashy s/o was behind your breakdown

they had always left you falling apart in his arms at one point or another

he never minded comforting you but anger bubbled up inside him everytime he heard of another incident

he had always told you how you deserved to be treated better but everytime something like this occurred, your s/o had always sucked you back in with some half hearted apology

iwaizumi waited until your sobs had died down into whimpers before he slowly brought you to take a seat on his couch

he handed you a box of tissues that were sitting in the middle of the coffee table and waited until you were able to form a coherent sentence,

“T-they che-heated on m-me”

although it was flooded with hiccups and sharp inhales, iwaizumi understood exactly what you had said

he got the sudden urge to go beat the shit out of that prick but he knew his negative emotions weren’t what you needed in that moment

he pulled you into another hug, whispering apologizes and words of comfort into your ear as you cried into his chest once more

hearing the way your voice strained broke his heart and all he wanted to do was bring back that beautiful smile of yours

as your sobs died back down, he continued to sooth you until the room grew silent

iwaizumi didn’t want to make you relive what had happened that night anymore then you already had so he opted to do something to get your mind off of everything,

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

you looked up at him through puffy eyelids and nodded, appreciating just being in his company a while longer

iwa leaned forward, grabbed the remote from the table, and immediately leaned right back next to you, being too nervous to leave your side for even a second

you subconsciously snuggled into his side as he scrolled through the different titles, looking for one you both usually enjoyed watching

however, it wasn’t long until you began to drift off to sleep, the world around you fading in and out of view as your eyes opened and closed

iwaizumi noticed your tired state and smiled to himself, brushing the stray hairs that framed your face behind your ears,

“You can go to sleep Y/N, i don’t mind.”

you let out a soft yawn as you looked up at him,

“But this is your favorite godzilla movie, i can’t let you finish it on your own.”

“You watch it with me every time, i think i’ll be fine watching it by myself tonight,”

he smiled at you as he pushed your head down into his lap,

“Now go to sleep.”

you smiled to yourself as you curled up and closed your eyes, feeling iwaizumi lazily run his fingers through your hair

as he watched your drift of to sleep, he promised himself he’d never let you get hurt like that again

•Tsukishima•

you, tsukki, and yamaguchi had gone to the cafe down the street every saturday for as long as you could remember

tsukki adored their strawberry shortcake and yams loved the milkshakes they served

you on the other hand were mainly there for the company, and they may or may not have sold your favorite sweet

spending time there was apart of your weekly routine

even when you got into a relationship, that pattern didn’t change

so when a certain saturday rolled around you happily strolled down to the cafe

this saturday however, yamaguchi had extra practice for his float serve and was unable to attend

you were about to cancel but yamaguchi insisted that you two carried on the tradition by yourselves for the day, so you two agreed on meeting up and spending some time with yams later in the day

once you arrived at the cafe, you felt the immediate comfort of being in the presence of your friend

tsukishima had always brought you a sense of security and peace

as you both were enjoying your sweet treats, you heard the buzz of your phone as it viberated on the table

you look from your dessert, to your phone, to the blonde head of hair in front of you

tsukki quirked an eyebrow at you as you shurugged your shoulders, picking up your phone and watching as it illuminated in your hand

the first notification that met your eyes was a message from your s/o,

“hey, we need to talk..”

you felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach

although you told yourself you shouldn’t jump to conclusions, that message didn’t settle right with you at all

you felt a lump grow in your throat as your shaky hands typed a reply,

“oh okay, let me call you then”

you looked up from your phone and made eye contact with tsukishima as he gave you a look of question mixed with concern

you shot him a half hearted smile as you excused yourself from the table and walked into the alley next to the cafe to make your call

although he wouldn’t admit it if asked, tsukishima was really worried about whatever was going on right now

the way your facial expressions had changed and your demeanor had shifted cause his chest to tighten

he knew something was wrong but he just didn’t know what

he didn’t want to pry or make it seem like he was too eager to comfort you but he couldn’t ignore what was going on

especially when you rounded the corner with tears running down your face, holding in sobs that threatened to escape your lips

he shot up out of his seat and walked over to you, throwing the amount of cash needed to pay for the food on the table as he did

“What the hell happened Y/N?”

averting your gaze away from tsukki, you began to whimper

noticing people beginning to grow nosey tsukishima wrapped his arm around your shoulder and began to walk back towards the alleyway

as you two came to a stop you wrapped your arms around tsukki, causing him to stiffen from the sudden contact, and cried into his shirt

he relaxed a bit as his arms found their way to your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing manner

once you calmed down you had explained that your s/o had broken up with you

they hadn’t given you a reason, only stating that they could no longer find it in themself to continue with your relationship

you couldn’t even wrap your head around the words that had met your ears from the other side of that line

you felt the tightness in your throat return as more tears dampened tsukishima’s shirt,

“Y/N it’s stupid to cry over this. They didn’t even have the decency to break up with you in person so why should you waste tears on them?”

“I know i’m sorry, i just can’t help it,”

you let out a shaky breath as you looked up at him,

“I really liked them Kei, i don’t know what i did wrong.”

he swiped away at the hair that clung to your face and he sighed,

“Idiot, you didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t tell you why they broke up with you but i know it had nothing to do with anything you did.”

he flicked your forehead before pulling you into a hug

hugs from tsukki were rare, so you didn’t let the feeling of his arms wrapped around your figure slip from your mind

although you were still in pain, you knew you wouldn’t have to go through this alone, and that was more then enough to bring a smile back to your face

•Ushijima•

for as long as you and ushijima had been friends, he had never been the best at comforting others

so you had no idea why your first instinct was to call him the second you got your heartbroken

as the phone rang you contemplated hanging up and letting him know that it was just an accident but honestly, you needed to hear his voice right now,

“Hello Y/N.”

you stayed silent for a minute, attempting to calm your voice before you spoke

“Y/N, are you there?” 

you took a deep breath before smiling, in hopes it would make you sound more cheerful than you were feeling in that moment

“Yeah sorry, h-hey toshi.”

“Y/N are you alright? It sounds like there’s something wrong.”

you sighed, with how observant he was it honestly wasn't a surprise that he had noticed your distress from the other side of the line

it was at this moment that you had begun to regret calling at all,

“Oh um, I guess today just hasn't been the best.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

you smiled through the tears streaming down your face

although ushijima wasn’t exactly familiar with other people’s emotions and how to deal with them, he always tried his best to be there for you and comfort you when you were feeling down,

“T-That person I was dating b-broke up with me and I'm just sad about it. I r-really liked them and it makes me upset that things ended like this.”

ushijima went quiet hearing those words

he had heard you talk about your s/o quite a few times before and they seemed to make you very happy

it honestly hurt him that you had lost that source of happiness so suddenly and although he did not know exactly how to return the smile to your face, he knew he had to try

the radio silence on the other side of the phone gave you anxiety and you began to wonder if you had made your friend uncomfortable in any way

but before you could apologize for venting about your issues, you had been cut off,

“I apologize Y/N. I don’t really know what to say but you are a very lovely person and they are surely missing out. If you’d like, you can come over to tendou’s house and read this week’s jump with us.”

you let out a small laugh at his attempts to comfort you,

“That sounds great toshi, you sure I won't be bothering you two though?”

you heard tendou yell through the phone, letting you know not to be silly and that you’re always invited as ushijima agreed with his statement

you swiped at the tears that had stained your cheek and clutched the phone closer to your ear,

“Awesome, I’ll be there soon then.”

“Okay Y/N, we will be waiting for you.”

before your friend could end the call, you quickly spoke up,

“Toshi?”

“Yes Y/N?”

“Thank you, I feel better already.”

“You’re welcome Y/N, I care about you very much so I’m glad I can make this easier for you.”

you felt your heart swell at his words as you bid him a goodbye 

although you had lost someone important to you, it wasn't the end of the world and you knew ushijima would help you understand that

•Akaashi•

akaashi was always someone you knew you could come to when the world was against you

however, once you and your s/o made things official, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t bother him with any issues involving your relationship 

he always assured you that you could go to him for anything but you knew that you had to deal with certain problems on your own

besides, he had his dilemmas to worry about and you most certainly didn't need to add to the pile

but you didn’t know who else to turn to when the same person you had spent months with, broke your heart

so you ended up dialing up akaashi’s number and waiting anxiously as the line connected

knowing him it wasn't a huge surprise that he had answered right away, the sound of yelling and volleyball’s slamming against the floor had met your ears,

“Hey Y/N, did you need something?”

you automatically felt guilty for forgetting he had practice at this hour, interrupting him was not what you’d intended to do,

“Ah, sorry I forgot you were still at p-practice. It’s no big deal, I can call you later about it.”

akaashi noticed the distressed tone of your voice as it shook and immediately excused himself from the gym, letting his coach know that he had a personal issue to deal with,

“No, it’s okay. We were just about to finish up anyways, Bokuto just wanted to practice his spike a bit before we left. Is something the matter?”

akaashi had been bluffing about practice almost being over but he knew you called him for a reason and he didn’t mind skipping practice for a bit to help you out

“Oh, um yeah actually, I got broken up with a little while ago. I know it’s a stupid thing to call about but it just really hurts and I didn’t know what else to do other then talk to you.”

akaashi frowned as he heard you begin to softly weep on the other side of the line

he knew how much you cared about your former s/o so he couldn’t imagine how much pain you were experiencing

he wish he was there to be with you but he knew he was stuck in practice for at least another hour,

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I can’t exactly say anything to take the pain away but just know that you’ll always have me. Things may be hard right now and I'll be here to comfort you as long as you need but don’t forget I'll also be here to help you pick yourself up when you’re ready.”

you felt some of the pain lift from his words as you attempted to stop your tears,

“T-Thank you Keiji, thank you.”

“No need to thank me Y/N. If you’re okay with it, me and bokuto can stop by after practice and we can go to the park down the street that you like. I’m sure you both would have fun.”

you laughed at his comment and smiled to yourself,

“I’d like that.”

“Alright, we’ll see you later then.”

akaashi was glad to hear the newfound smile in your voice as the call came to a close

your smile was his favorite sight after all, and he’d do his best to keep it plastered on your face as long as he was around

•••••••••••••••••••••••••��•••••

[karmelek-writes]

comfort zone | part 2

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader, Tom Holland x fem!reader

Synopsis: What do you do when you love them but want someone else?

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: slight angst, swearing, suggestive comments, mentions of sex, there will be smut in other parts

Read part 1 here!

A/N: Hey guys! This is part two of the "comfort zone". I wanted to thank you all again for supporting me and commenting, reblogging, and liking part 1! I hope you like this one too. Let me know what you think! Also, if anyone would like to be added to the taglist, please message me! I'll create one soon.

Love, W 🖤

When you sat down next to the blonde you immediately sensed that he tensed. You didn’t like how the things between you turned out to be so awkward. You two were never like that. And now you were scared to say a word to him. Suddenly texting seemed more appealing so you took out your phone again and started typing. You noticed Harrison glancing at you as if he tried to see if you are in a good mood for taking up this conversation. He didn’t want to be noisy and check who you’re texting so he quickly shifted his head to the slides that were displayed by your professor. However, he looked down at his phone when he felt it vibrate just to see that he got a message from you. Frowning, he touched the icon of your contact and read your message.

From Y/N:

Want to go out for a drink with me?

You watched him looking through the text anxiously, hoping that he didn’t get the wrong idea. You wanted to make things right, not only because you hated having unfinished business with people but also because you liked him and his company. Another thing was that he was Tom’s friend. You wouldn’t want him to feel bad about your misunderstanding with his best friend. When you opened your mouth to add something, Harrison turned to you with a lovely little smile. When he nodded some loose curls fell on his face making you smile in return and laugh inside. You didn’t miss the light in his eyes when you moved your hand slightly to put his hair back in its place just as you did with Tom. This time, however, you stopped midway and a crimson flush crept into your face. The blonde’s smile turned into a smirk when he caught up to your actions and before you could do something he moved a little closer to you to give you a chance to brush the messy curls out of his face. But instead of that, you slapped him on the arm and sank deeper into your seat what brought a laugh out of Harrison. He thought that you were adorable in your shyness and he definitely enjoyed making you flustered. The simple gesture made you hope that maybe nothing is lost yet. You just had to apologise and assure him that what had happened was just an accident. It would be easy, wouldn’t it?

After your lecture and interaction with Harrison, you felt a lot lighter. Your mind was at peace again and you could enjoy yourself knowing that everything will be alright between Harrison and you. When you got home the first thing you did was to lay down on a sofa. With a smile on your face, you stretched your body and closed your eyes. This moment of silence was what you needed after all these hours of anxiety and stress. Breathing deeply you slowly started to drift to sleep when the sound of the door opening brought you back to reality.

“I just got the best news EVER,” very excited Tom marched through the door with an enormous smile on his face. Noticing you laying on the sofa he stopped dead in his tracks hoping that he didn’t wake you. Looking up, you had to laugh at his wild eyes gaze, and tensed figure. You stood up to greet your best friend opening your arms for him. Tom smiled widely and embraced you in a tight hug but his strength and force made you lose your balance and collapse back on the couch. Brunette landed on top of you and you yelped in surprise. You could feel his weight on you but for some reason, it didn’t bother you at all. Actually, you found it really nice to be able to enjoy the way his muscles flexed when he tried to steady himself not to crush you. For anyone who walked through the door, the scene would seem unpleasant but you were comfortable feeling the heat radiating from his body. Every since you two started hanging out, a feeling of comfort and mutual understanding was created. With Tom things were always easy, you didn’t argue much and on top of that, it was really hard for awkwardness in your relationship. You loved him for his incredible ability to turn bad situations into good ones and brush everything off with laughter. Yet, this time you haven’t heard him giggling or saying some playful words to make you blush. You moved your head to look him in the eyes and this time you saw something you’ve never seen before. His gaze studied your face patiently, not missing any spot on your skin. His mouth was slightly agape as he tried to find the right words to say but your beauty was so mesmerising he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Your bodies were so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your face and you started wondering why was he so nervous out of a sudden. Little did you know that Tom has realised something at that moment. He realised he couldn’t find any flaw in you despite watching you the whole time. He realised that you make him the happiest and that he would never be the same without you. And most importantly, Tom realised that he could never make you as happy as he wished to. He has always made sure you were doing alright and that you knew he was there but he couldn’t force himself to love you. He tried, he really tried to develop some feelings. He would lay in bed at night thinking about you and what is wrong with him that he can’t love such an amazing person. Tom never believed in soulmates but he truly thought you had his heart and soul. When you were gone, he always felt like there was something missing. A puzzle that combines his messy lifestyle with his fucked up mind. You always had the right things to say to make him feel better and he never felt like you were judging him. He truly found someone with a pure heart and soul that is right for him and understands him without words. But if you weren’t the right one, where were they? Truthfully, Tom was tired of being alone. He wanted someone to love him and he wanted someone to love. You were there for him but somehow it wasn’t enough. He lacked the feeling of crazy love. He wanted it to consume him and intoxicate all his senses. He wanted to be in a daze that would make him do all the cheesy stuff his friends would tease him about but he wouldn’t care because of the happiness. It killed him that it wasn’t you. He knew that, all too well, but he didn’t stop being close to you. He wouldn’t dare to even try and lose you. At that moment he knew that he would take up every fight to keep you by his side even if it meant to hurt himself because despite all that you were his home and he needed you to breathe. You were his safe zone and if he couldn’t have you by fate, he would have you by choice.

As the seconds passed by your heart started to beat more quickly anticipating his next move. The way Tom was looking at you made you forget how to breathe. All you could do was stare at his beautiful honey brown eyes sparkling in the yellow light of the lamp standing on the table. Finally, after what felt like hours, Tom whispered "I got the job," seemingly getting out of his thoughts but you saw that he was still trying to figure something out in his head.

"This.. this is amazing, Tom," you replied not paying much attention to what he was talking about since all you could do was drool over him.

"Yeah, I'm going to the USA," he laughed like he couldn't believe he got the part but still didn't move one bit. Tom's body was towering over you making it hard for you to focus on his words.

"Mhmm.. I'm proud of you, Tommy," the nickname quickened his heartbeat as he always got warm inside when you called him that. He thought the nickname was childish but he always melted when it came out of your mouth. He wanted to kiss your forehead as an act of thanking you but you suddenly yawned.

"I'm sorry that I woke you up. I was just excited," his pretty smile was replaced by a pout when he remembered the state he found you in. You took his face in your hands and giggled at his cuteness.

"I was just falling asleep, don't worry," you answered truthfully, not wanting him to feel bad for disturbing your peace.

"Are you still sleepy? We can lay down if you want," Tom proposed, concerned about your lack of sleep out of nowhere.

"Well, I'd say we're already laying down..." hesitation was evident in your voice almost as you were worried to bring up the topic. The look on Tom's face shifted quickly after he registered your words and looked down between your bodies. That was when he felt his crutch touching yours and a wave of embarrassment mixed with lust washed over him. He must have got lost in daydreaming about you not to notice that he was basically crunching you. He was surprised you could even breathe in this state. "But.. I-I don't mind..." your words eased his panic but didn't help the blood coming south.

In the trance, you moved your fingers along his smooth skin hoping that would calm him down. You weren't sure what you were doing but you enjoyed this little moment and didn't want it to end. Tracing the shape of his nose you licked your lips what made Tom close his eyes and exhale deeply.

"We need to stop or I'll do something we will both regret," when the words left his mouth you stopped your movement but kept your hands on his face. Tom was scared to open his eyes. He feared for your reaction. A few seconds passed by while you tried to find the right words. Were you surprised? Yes. But you couldn't fight the smile that crept on your face and the butterflies erupting in your stomach. Although, you weren't sure how you felt about what you've just heard you needed to feel him. It may be wrong but you wanted it.

"What if I don't mind?" you said softly just millimeters from his lips. Tom finally opened his eyes at your confession and you could see the confusion painted on his face.

"I-I-I.... Look um..." this was the first time you've seen your best friend so nervous that he couldn't get the words out. He seemed to be really troubled but he finally gave in resting his own hand on your cheek. "W-what does this mean for u-us?" he couldn't help but ask. Tom didn't want you to think that he was just taking advantage out of the situation. He needed to know your point of view on this because he didn't want to hurt you in any way and this was a dangerous field.

"I don't know but I really want this" your words made the brunette's eyes darken. Licking his lips for the last time, he moved your head closer to him and brushed his lips against yours in a sweet but passionate kiss. Your lips were moving softly in sync as if you kissed for the millionth time. You were making out for a good few minutes until the taste of him was so intoxicating you forgot how to breathe and had to pull out for a second to catch some air. Your break didn't last long because Tom pulled you back in taking advantage of your parted lips and pushed his tongue in. You moaned at the action and the sound made Tom thrust his hips against yours. At that moment you felt something poking your thigh. You didn't want to stop your make-out session but you knew you weren't ready to go further yet so you patted his chest softly to signal him that you wanted to stop. Tom pulled out slowly trying to see if he hurt you in any way. "I'm alright," noticing his worried gaze you assured him that there was nothing bad happening. "I'm just umm... not ready for t-the next s-step," suddenly you got anxious hoping that you didn't say anything wrong to make him upset.

"Oh.." was all he said, not fully realising what you were trying to hint on.

"I mean... you know," you looked down at his bulge hoping that he would understand your clue.

"OH!" he followed your gaze and finally caught up to what you meant. "Noo, don't worry about it. We um.. we don't have to go further if you don't want to," Tom tried to make you comfortable but he couldn't hide the flush on his cheeks that was a result of his embarrassment. He didn't know why he felt so awkward out of a sudden. You, on the other hand, felt more confused than awkward. You had to figure out your own feelings towards your best friend but you couldn't lie to yourself and say that you didn't enjoy it because that was probably the most amazing kiss you've ever had.

"Thank you," you didn't really register your words but it seemed that neither did Tom because he started to get up and fixing his clothes and hair. You only watched him, not wanting to move.

"Do you regret it?" Tom asked in a small voice noticing your absent look. He didn't know how to feel about the situation too. He allowed himself to let loose this one time and he just hoped it didn't destroy your friendship.

"Do you regret it?"

"I asked you first."

"Trying to be smart, Holland?" he genuinely smiled at your remark because then he knew that nothing has changed. You wouldn't joke with him if you were mad or upset.

Taking a deep breath, you got up and turned to face Tom. "I don't regret it. Do you?" he let go of a deep breath he didn't even know that was holding and shook his head. "That's... good." you summed up the situation making Tom burst out laughing. "What's so funny?"

"You are so weird," you faked an offended look at what he added "But so am I. That makes us a good match."

You nodded your head because maybe he was right. Maybe you two were a good match.

After the incident, things started to get more intense between you and Tom. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or if he made it his mission to frustrate you even more by caressing you while you were falling asleep or casually holding your hand when going on walks. Whatever it was, it rendered you warm inside. You couldn’t fight your butterflies and stop yourself by slowly falling for your best friend. Subconsciously, you hoped you two would end up together, his family loving you and all your friends saying how you make a good match. However, it didn’t seem as he had any intentions to make the first move. Even though Tom was very touchy with you, he never asked you out or even brought up the subject of the relationship. It was even more confusing because he wasn’t messing around with anyone nor he had any female friends he was interested in. You knew because as your relationship with Harrison started progressing you found yourself gushing to him about Tom. Harrison always tried to assure you that Tom liked you too and after many days of contemplating you decided to talk with him about your feelings. You were even more nervous because he was supposed to leave for the USA for his new job in a couple of days. You weren’t sure where this conversation would leave your relation but the fear wasn’t that strong to stop you from confessing your admiration for him.

Tom invited you to his get-away party so that was when you wanted to talk to him. His family wanted to say a proper goodbye before he would leave for long months that’s why they all came to celebrate his success. You were one of the first few people who has come so you helped around the kitchen and talked a bit to Tom’s brothers. You’ve known these people for so long that at this point you treated them like your own family. You had fun talking with Tom’s grandparents and playing with the youngest members of the family. Tom was watching you from the kitchen with a smile on his face as you were humming Baby shark with children. He loved that you felt so comfortable around his family and that they’ve basically accepted you as their own child. His parents would even ask him about you sometimes, hoping that there was something more between you. He always brushed them off saying that you two were just friends because that was the truth. Even though no one questioned your friendship, everyone knew that it wasn’t just Tom who was coming over, it was always Tom and Y/N. When his parents wanted to invite you for dinner or a nice family gathering they would just tell Tom to pass you the invitation. Everyone treated you two as one because they knew that your bond was special and Tom’s family has never seen him happier than when he was with you. They were grateful that he had someone in his life who kept him grounded. “She’s the one, mate,” is what his brothers keep telling Tom. He would just smile mysteriously because it wasn’t true but he didn’t want to let anyones’ hopes down.

When the children ran away you giggled and glanced at the room to spot someone you could talk to. That was when you noticed Tom at the foot of the stairs who was talking to Harrison. He must have sensed you looking at him because he turned his head directly to you. The action made you smile and you started to make your way to take up a conversation with the boys. After finally scrambling through the crowd, you stood eye to eye with Tom who took your hand and led you to his room. You didn’t know where Harrison went but you guessed that Tom wanted to talk to you about something important. Otherwise, why would he take you to his room giving air to Harrison?

Taglist: @harryhollandsgirlfriend, @osterfieldshollandgirl

[dinner-djarin]

Next To You (Bucky x reader)

Just a little one shot I wrote after watching FATWS on repeat. (I tried to make it gender neutral but I may have missed something so I'm sorry if it's not!)

Rating: Mature

No use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Bucky is having nightmares, and you're there to comfort him. Based on the Julia Michaels song If You Need Me. (so if the ending sounds dumb go listen to the song you'll understand why lol)

Warnings: Fluff & angst I guess idk, kinda dark themes, because well it's Bucky. Just two people who have definitely been through some shit. Oh ya that reminds me swearing. Suggested that intercourse has happened but nothing descriptive. A little (a lot) about trauma but mostly about nightmares. If I missed something pls lemme know, I don't want anyone to feel triggered reading. But if you can watch the show and be fine, you'll probably be okay with this.

Also just letting you know if I put ~ its cause I switch the focus from Bucky to reader, but I'm not switching POV completely its all written in reader POV.

Every night brought pieces of the past. He never knew which memory would be dragged to the surface once he let his subconscious take over - clawing and scrapping against the walls he put up, begging to be let out; to be confronted.

Some nights were worse than others of course.

He wasn’t sure how he was ever going to out run the monsters of his past. For a while he just stopped sleeping. It may not have been a permanent fix, but he thought some relief was better than none at all. He used to go days, even weeks, without sleep during the war, so he figured it might be the best way to silence the past.

Dr. Raynor, however, caught on quick.

A lot of her methods seemed like bullshit to Bucky. He could tell she was genuinely trying to help him, but he doubted anything she had anything to offer him that would prove to be effective.

But at the end of the day she was definitely no fool. He had a tough time lying to her. She didn’t take anyone's crap, and that might have been the only reason he trusted her, even a little. It may have been the only reason he actually gave it a sincere try (besides the fact he’d be arrested if he didn’t).

So he probably shouldn’t have been surprised when she caught on to his sleep strike. In fact she called him out on it only three days in. He thought he’d get longer than that. Even so, he was almost relieved. After only 72 hours he already felt the nightmares slowly creeping into the day. Every time a door slammed or a car horn blared his body tensed. Every time he turned a corner he’d reach for a knife he no longer carried. So maybe it was better to let his past haunt his nightmares. That way he’d be alone when the memories took over. That way he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

But he made a mistake. He did what he told himself he could never do. He let you get too close.

Falling asleep in your arms felt better than any therapy session he could ever imagine. It was the first time in forever he could remember what it was like to be his younger self. The version of him that marvelled at the idea of flying cars; who thought he could save the world by enlisting. The dreamy eyed boy who was hopeful for the future, who thought he had a future.

Lying next to you made him feel in control, like his problems didn’t matter. He was there to keep you safe, and warm, and comfortable. He never thought he’d feel like that with anyone. He didn’t think he was allowed.

You didn’t question his metal arm for starters. When Bucky took off his jacket, after the hundredth time you insisted - “It’s like 100 degrees in here Bucky, please take it off, you’re gonna melt” - he thought he’d instantly regret it. But you simply looked at it with wonder for only a moment, before returning your eyes up to his own. Staring back at you, he saw the wheels in your brain click into place. He could almost hear your thoughts as you decided what your next move would be.

In the blink of his eyes you tore your shirt off and stood completely still in front of him. For a moment his emotions were mixed, and he worried where your sudden advancement came from, but then he saw it. A thick white mark slashed across your torso.

You took only one step forward before speaking. “It’s not exactly… I know it’s not the same thing at all. But the scars - the marks we carry - they’ll be with us forever, whether we like it or not. Even if they remind us of the worst pieces of ourselves, or the worst moments of our lives, it reminds us that we can move forward. And it reminds me that there’s something to move forward to. I don’t know…it doesn’t really make any sense but somehow it’s almost comforting.  To know that something will always be with us, till the end”

His mouth was on yours in an instant.

He had been hesitant to let anyone in. After coming back - after going through everything he’d been through - he felt like damaged goods. He worried that the minute he let himself be happy, everything would come crashing down again, and he had good reason to believe it. It just kept happening over and over. It seemed like every time he found even a small amount of peace, the battle made its way back to him.

But when he found you, when he felt you, he felt peace. The softness of your skin, the gentle wave of your hair, the light scrape of your fingernails against his back and chest, your quiet moans muffled by his own mouth on yours. Being with you made the horrors of his past melt away. Even when you clamped down around him and bit into his shoulder muscle, even when he knew you’d left marks all over his skin. Knowing they came from you made all the difference. They didn’t remind him of the wars he fought, or lives he took, or the atrocities he committed. The sting of your nails and teeth weren’t pains from his past, they were reminders of his present, of the possibility of a life he could have. With you.

But in the end he knew that it was all wishful thinking. He knew he wasn’t cut out for that type of future. He knew you deserved better.

So he decided to let you off easy, to disappear from your life, leaving your shared experience to the confines of your bedroom. A memory, nothing more. He knew he’d have to sneak away once you fell asleep, because that way it might not feel real. Everything that happened between you might disappear with him.

But then he fucked up.

He was waiting for your breath to even out, a sign he would take to mean you had fallen asleep, but after listening to the air rush out of your body, and watching your bare chest rise and fall, your hypnotic essence overpowered his will, and he fell asleep alongside you.

Only he wasn’t asleep for long.

Eventually the past caught up, as it always had a way of doing. Images, and sounds, and smells all came flooding back to his uninhibited brain - sleep made him an easy target. He was vulnerable to every torment he caused, and every mission he was forced to carry out. Tonight was no exception. His brain managed to sift through every wall he thought he had up, and trudge yet another painful memory to the surface. The image of himself taking life after life, cruelly and viciously. There was no remorse, no stopping him. He saw every crime lord and politician he was made to terminate. Until his brain moved away to a new idea. The image of a young woman. Innocent and pure. But in the way of his mission. The Winter Soldier spared none.

He woke up in a blind panic. His surroundings were unfamiliar. Something was wrong. Was he being held captive or-

~

“Hey,” you made yourself known to him, and he twisted his head back to see you sit up beside him. You were quiet, and a worried expression blanketed your face.

Is he angry, you thought for a moment? No. Your brain was tired, and it was slow to process. Not angry, scared.

You knew from the minute you saw his arm that there was more going on. You already had some suspicions, nevertheless you expected there to be something like this.

For a moment, the two of you stared at each other in silence. You watched him regain his breath, and you carefully shifted your legs to sit crossed underneath you.

His steel blue eyes cut through the darkness, pinning you down. You wondered what was going on in his mind, what he might be doing to regain his grip on reality. You knew this moment too well. The quiet. The darkness. The fear. Not sure of how to move forward.

You were scared too, but not of him - more like you were scared for him. You knew he must be going through something, and you wanted to be there to help, but you also knew that was easier said than done. “Being there to help” was a nice concept, but in reality - well things were generally more complicated. You didn’t know if it’d be alright to approach him, mainly because you were unsure of your role in all this. Were you really someone he wanted around when he was so obviously vulnerable? You’d never seen him so raw and exposed, like a wound you wished you could tend to, while also fearing that your interference could make things worse.

You knew he wasn’t going to ask for your help, you could see he wasn’t that kind of man, but maybe if you made the first step, and let him choose - maybe he’d let you in. So, you held out your hand and waited. After a moment, you saw him move, only slightly though. His eyes darted down towards your hand and he subtly lifted his fingers off the bed. But it only lasted a second. He froze again, hand hovering near yours, and that’s when you realized he had been reaching for you with his left hand. You had been wary to touch it before, you thought it was probably a sensitive subject. Something about the idea of touching his metal arm seemed more personal, if that was possible. Like only the most trusted people in his life might be allowed to… and maybe not even then.

You felt your own eyes drop to your lap, an almost nervous energy now emanating in the space between you. But just before you could drop your hand too, his fingers hesitantly entwine with yours.

You shot your eyes up to see his right hand grazing the palm of your left. As your gaze slowly elevated, you found your way to meet his own eyes, only to notice the very sudden change in them. Whatever fear or darkness hid their before had now melted away. You couldn’t place it, but whatever emotion he now held sent a chill from your core to your fingertips. A lump in your throat formed and for a moment, you thought you might never be able to breath again. The look in his eyes was almost soft, but with a hint of yearning. Fire was blazing through every nerve in your body, while a chill kissed your skin, making every hair stand on edge.

Feeling outrageously brave, you took your free hand up to his jaw and held him there, gently swiping your thumb over his cheek, and allowing your fingers to reach slightly past his hairline and to the back of his neck. You wondered if he could feel the raging storm of your emotions through your touch.

“You okay?” you managed to whisper to him.

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before” his answer pierced your ears with a hard tone, refusing to let any vulnerability resonate in his voice.

You shake your head at him, wishing he wouldn’t play pretend. “Okay then,” you mumble, letting your hand drop from his face. But as it fell, Bucky was quick to grab it, and hold it with a gentle squeeze. When you looked at him again, you knew he meant it as a reassurance, trying to tell you that he was okay.

~

He couldn’t handle the way you looked at him. Like you could see every thought in his head. A knowing gleam in your eyes told him that you didn’t believe him, and you’d be right not to. He wasn’t okay. He never really was. There was so much darkness surrounding him, poisoning every inch of his life. But you. Your touch was gentle and your voice was kind, and even though he had just seen your scar, he couldn’t help but think your world must have been so much brighter than his own. Looking in your eyes, he almost wished he’d never met you. He was so afraid that his pain might infect you too, the only good thing he had left. He wouldn’t ever be able to forgive himself if he let that happen; if he let his past ruin your future.

He wanted to leave, he needed to get out, before any of that could happen.

He slid off the bed quickly, and made his way to grab his clothes, but before he could you grabbed his hand - his left hand.

“Please Bucky don’t.” was all you could say. But the way your voice broke, on the verge of tears, fear of being rejected, of being left alone in the dark by the only man you ever wanted to let in - it was enough to stop his heart. He stood there, frozen from your touch. You kept his hand in yours, and for a second you worried it was too much. You worried you betrayed whatever trust you had built with him. Just holding his bare metal hand felt more violating and revealing than the fact that both of you remained completely naked. But you didn’t want to pull away. You didn’t want him to think you were afraid of him, afraid of the fact his hand could pulverize yours in a second - because you weren’t. You’d felt his touch. You knew how gentle and caring he could be. And you wanted him to see it too. That he wasn’t defined by his worst fears.

You pulled your body towards him, kneeling at the edge and facing him, “You don’t have to leave.” you spoke softly, as if he might be spooked and run off if you were any louder. “You don’t have to push everyone away. Please don’t push me away… I-”

Before you could finish, he was crashing into you. His tongue invading your mouth, like he was trying to soak up your unsaid words. His hands held your waist in place against his, steady and strong, but there was still resistance in his fingers; a hesitance to use too much force with you. You could feel how he feared he might hurt you.

Slowly you leaned back, feathering your fingers over his shoulders to guide him with you, and when he hovered over you, you let them slide into his hair, grabbing what you could and leading his head down…

~~~~

You lay there in the dark with your head on his chest, listening to his steady heart, feeling the crisp sting of metal graze your back. And even though you knew it was ridiculous, all you could think about was how you wanted to keep him safe. The man was stronger than any other human being, and probably thought you were fragile and helpless, and needed his protection more than anything. But still, you wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to know he could be safe.

“I’ll fight them for you.” you whimper quietly, suddenly worried that Bucky may have already fallen back to sleep.

“Huh? Who- what do you mean?” his words stuttered and tripped over his tongue. His half sleeping brain was suddenly running a mile a minute trying to decipher your statement. Who were you fighting? Why would you need to fight them for him? Surely he was more capable of fighting anyone off. He should be protecting you-

“The monsters” you said a little louder. The words feel childish and awkward in your mouth, and once you said them, you wished to take them back. But you decided to push forward, “if you want me to… if you need me… I’m here”

[xneens]

love me, hate me - part two

Warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Christmas comes around and Ransom wants you more than ever.

part one

"You're telling me you actually want to date this guy? The one who can't even make you cum?" you asked, licking the remaining frosting from your finger. You placed the messy bowl in the sink, watching your best friend trying—and failing—to get the egg shells out of the mixture.

Meg gave up, dumping the brownie batter down the sink with the water running, fed up with the shells. "Yeah, but sex isn't everything, you know. I don't know—it's just this guy isn't like my exes. He genuinely cares about my feelings, and doesn't control me. Besides, he made me cum a few times. He's nice."

With Mariah Carey's Christmas music playing in the background, the miniature Christmas tree on the table, and the snow falling, the Thrombey household felt festive. Although, the people bundled up and arguing in the next room—not so much. Yet, neither of you cared while you continued to work, helping Martha out, on the desserts. It wasn't going as well as planned, but you took it as a positive considering you hadn't started a fire. Yet.

"Ah, yes, nice. Can't relate. I'm currently attracted to assholes who have anger issues." you commented, passing Meg the flour once again. Your creation was in the oven, and all you hoped was that no one got food poisoning because of it. Even you couldn't live with the guilt of Ransom, or his touchy father, throwing up Christmas morning.

"Currently?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow, getting eggs out of the fridge for the hundredth time. She glanced at the direction of the door, the sound of it opening drawing both of your attention. "I'm pretty sure your daddy issues didn't just happen recently. Speaking of which, you may be the main reason Ransom decided to come back for Christmas instead chasing a model around."

You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair while contemplating whether or not it's too late to ditch. While Ransom was hot, his spoiled attitude wasn't worth tolerating for a quick fuck. With sarcasm dripping, you sighed. "Oh, how wonderful. 'Cause, that's exactly what I need right now."

Meg chuckled, focusing on the task at hand, trying not get shells in the mixture again. She had held off on mixing the dry stuff, much to your dismay, but to her it made sense to get the hard part out of the way so it wouldn't fuck everything up. Your best friend had just finished cracking her last egg when Harlan walked into the kitchen, Ransom trailing a few feet behind him. The playboy's eyes immediately landed on you, yet you didn't meet his, too preoccupied with the phone in your hands.

Harlan's slight frown lifted into a smile, surveying how messy the kitchen had gotten. "My, my, I wasn't aware a cake had exploded in my kitchen."

Looking up, you grinned at the old man, the smile reaching your eyes until you saw who was behind him. Ignoring Ransom, you giggled at Harlan's remark. "You call it a mess, we call it baking."

"As long as you ladies are having fun." Harlan replied, patting your shoulder before heading off towards his office, too tired to deal with his dysfunctional family at the moment.

Ransom lingered, walking up to you, a smirk impended on his face. Yet, you refocused you're attention back on your phone while Meg left the room, her apron still attached to her. You didn't question her sudden disappearance, knowing she was just as annoyed at Ransom's presence. The man in question peeked over you shoulder to see your screen showing off another man's dick, the words right below it explicit.

His jaw clenched in jealousy. Much to his chagrin, the man's dick was just as big as his own. But, he kept the icy exterior up. "Would it be offensive to ask whether or not your baking will make me sick this evening?"

You scoffed without looking up, tapping out of the dick pic your previous hook up had sent. "Since when do you care if you're offensive or not? Who are you, and what have you done to Ransom Drysdale?"

Ransom shrugged, leaning against the kitchen island while facing your annoyed expression. His smug behavior got under your skin, and the bastard was well aware. "Maybe all this Christmas spirit got into me. Or maybe I'm trying to be nice."

You raised an eyebrow, getting off your chair, rushing to the window, pretending to be looking for something. After a few seconds, Ransom's curiosity got the best of him and he joined you, looking for anything unusual outside. The snow-covered land showed nothing out of the ordinary, furthering Ransom's confusion.

"What are you looking at? I can't see anything." he said, squinting at the general direction you had look at.

Shrugging, you moved back to your seat, propping your elbows on the back of the chair, allowing a smug smirk lift your lips. "I thought pigs were flying. Ransom Drysdale isn't capable of being nice, yet alone say the word. I'm shocked hell hadn't freeze over. Yet."

The playboy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he took your body in, wrapped in his favorite color, the dress hugging your curves. "What's a guy have to do to be taken seriously with you? You and I both know I can give you everything you want, and more."

"Are you trying to buy me right now?" you asked, half teasing, half annoyed. Ransom could not take a hint, and you hated the fact that he didn't back off despite the sarcasm and insults you threw his way.

"I'm trying to be nice but you're making it really hard." Ransom answered, his cockiness wearing off. He was growing frustrated the more you looked at him like he was a piece of trash. All you wanted him to be was nice, now that he was trying to be, you wouldn't believe his intentions, despite wanting to prove it to you.

Pursing your lips, you tapped your finger against the table, the acrylic nail making a clicking noise. "You wanna prove it? Fine. You've got til midnight tonight. If you're unable to change my mind, you have to buy me my spring break vacation, all the fees and expenses."

"And if I do change your mind..." Ransom smirked, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, earning a half-hearted glare. "... you have to go on a date with me."

Ransom nearly burst out laughing from your shocked expression, the genuine look of surprised slapped on your face with the words. You shut your hanging jaw, still not processing what he was saying. "Excuse me?"

"You have to go on a date with me if I convince you that I'm willing to change my, and I quote, 'bratty and douchebag ways.' An actual date where we sit down, eat dinner, talk about our feelings, and get drunk. Whatever happens, happens." Ransom purred, placing a finger on your bottom lip. You slapped his hand away, and his smirked grew. "Are you going to back out of this already, princess?"

It was your stubborn side that made agree, pressing your lips into a thin line, you grabbed Ransom's hand, shaking it. He raised an eyebrow while you sighed. "You're on. Hope you have enough money to pay for a lengthy trip. I plan on drinking every bottle of wine in Italy."

Despite your baking debacle, you left the kitchen, leaving Meg's monstrous creation on the counter along with Ransom. You went into the living room, trying to find the girl in question when you happened to stumble upon Richard. He barely got to say a word before you turned around, and left the pervert behind. It was always a puzzle how Ransom turned out so hot with Richard and Linda as parents.

Climbing the stairs, you heard the family arguing growing quieter with each step. The second floor was almost a safe haven considering Harlan didn't let anyone raise their voice in the upper level, making it the only quiet place in the house, safe from any Thrombey fights. It was a wonder how the family hadn't murdered each other yet; it was only a matter of time.

Unable to find Meg in your shared room, you sighed, patting your body to find your phone only to realize you left it in the kitchen. With Ransom.

"Looking for this?" Ransom held out your phone, coming up behind you. His usual smirk was gone, a small, genuine smile in its place. It made him look less arrogant.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You took your phone back, half expecting him to take it back just as you wrapped your fingers around it. But he didn't. You realized he was pulling out all the stops, all the little things that you found annoying was gone. He was acting. Eyes narrowing, you unlocked your phone, studying him. "Thanks. I think."

"Meg is helping the Brazilian maid." Ransom answered your silent question. Your thumb hovered her contact, going back to the home screen. Your eyebrows had risen by his mis-categorization of Martha's race and employment. "Pretty sure they went to the grocery store or something."

"Oh, okay." you replied lamely, putting your phone in your back pocket, the tight jeans making it nearly impossible. Opening the door to your room, you stepped in, not giving Ransom another look. But he followed inside, making you turn around. "Do you need something?"

Ransom stuffed his hands in his pockets, the cream-colored sweater shifting with the gesture. "You didn't exactly give me much time to prove myself. And looking around, we're all alone. I can't think of a better time."

As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. The bet was a bit unfair considering how stubborn you were, and the amount of time he had to convince you. But it was a bit unsettling seeing Ransom try so hard, let alone being nice. You nodded, agreeing. "Fine, but can I change first? I'd rather not be covered in flour while you try to seduce me."

"You and I both know I wouldn't seduce you before dinner. There's no way in hell I'd treat you like the others." he mumbled to himself, but you heard it. Clearing his throat, he stepped out of the room. "Yeah, I'll be outside. Waiting. Take your time."

As soon as the door closed, you looked around the room to check if you were being pranked, expecting Ashton Kutcher to burst out of the closet along with a bunch of cameramen. After a few seconds, you came to the conclusion that Supernatural was in this universe, deciding "Ransom" was a shapeshifter or a demon possessed him. It was the only reasonable explanation.

Reaching for the hem of your top, pulling it off in one swift move, dropping it on the bed. Your jeans piling on top, allowing your legs to breathe. Despite Joni's hippie side, she had let Meg sneak in a few joints, the smell becoming stronger as you neared both your suitcases. You didn't think Harlan would be too please to have weed in his house, no matter how lenient he is.

You took your time, a little baffled by what to wear. Ransom hadn't exactly given you an agenda on his plans, leaving you to grab a clean pair of black jeans, and a classy, yet simple, red top. You looked decent enough to fit in a nice restaurant, but casual in case Ransom decided he wanted McDonald's, and most importantly: warm. If he wanted to take you to the North Pole, then he'd have to give you his cozy-looking sweater.

You opened the door, the sight of Ransom rocking on his heels greeting you. His back was to you, his hands inside his pockets as he looked out the window, frost crawling along the edges. It genuinely concerned you how much this man was acting; if you didn't know better, you'd think it was real.

Clearing your throat, you watched him jump in surprise, quickly turning to you. Raising an eyebrow, you tucked your phone in your pocket, meeting his warm, blue eyes. "I'm ready."

"Okay." said Ransom, motioning for you to follow him. You walked down the stairs without a word, the air becoming thick as you walked behind him. The sweater did little to no good disguising his broad shoulders, the muscles somehow still visible under the clothing.

As soon as you reached the bottom, you glanced around, the Thrombey fighting becoming louder with each second. It wouldn't be long before one of them stormed out of the room, muttering a curse under their breath. You'd seen all of them do it at least once. You crossed your arms, wary of whatever Ransom was planning. "Be honest, you're not just going to drive me off to the middle of the woods and murder me, are you?"

Ransom chuckled, giving you a wink as he held his hand out. Without hesitation, you took it. "If I was planning to murder you, I wouldn't do it in the woods. If you're going to die, it's going to be epic."

"Oh, well, that makes me feel better." you sneered sarcastically, instantly rolling your eyes. In the back of your mind, you pondered how long it would take for your eyes to get stuck in your brain with the amount of times you rolled them at Ransom.

He led you towards the door, smirking. "You ready?"

"No. Let's go."

—

"Fuck, baby."

He spent a few moments just staring at your spread pussy, amazed and aching for you more than he ever ached for anything.

"Don't you know why I want you to see it, Ransom?"

Ransom just shook his head without taking his eyes off the your pneumatic body.

"Because it's yours," you sighed. "All yours, baby. You're the one I've been keeping it nice and fresh for."

"Fuck," he muttered.

He kept staring at you, waiting for you to rub you pussy again, but you didn't. You just kept holding it spread.

"Don't you wanna taste me, Ransom?" you purred, barely above a whisper. "C'mon, baby, please. I want you to lick it so bad. I love you so much and I want to give you everything that belongs to you."

The playboy was all but paralyzed by your words. He finally dragged his eyes off your open pussy and looked at your face. You were staring back at him with a glazed look in your eyes. His solid cock was pulsing hard in the tight grip of his fist. No girl had ever looked at him the way you were at that very moment, yet at the same time, he knew you were playing with the hottest kind of fire there was.

"Sweetheart, you know this wasn't the deal." he whispered, distracted.

You smirked. "But you still won."

He finished the thought by leaning down and sliding his tongue up and over your generously offered pussy. You pulled in a sharp gasp when Ransom's tongue lit up your heavily tingling pussy. Your hips rolled instantly in response, your gasps turning to moans while Ransom eagerly slathered his tongue all around your creamily delicious slit. He soon focused his attention on your clit and slipped a finger up inside your hole at the same time.

The man's finger curled and twisted inside you, searching for you g spot while he suckled and lapped at your fully swollen clit. You could barely form words as you gasped and moaned, your luscious body now writhing with desire.

Your pussy oozed heavily the more he licked and fingered you. Your cream was sweet, tangy and intensely intoxicating. Ransom probed at your hole with his finger and the tip of his tongue at the same time, but he soon drew his soaking wet finger out of your hole and wedged it between your ass cheeks, searching for your puckered rimhole.

You gasped deeply and lifted your legs up higher, giving Ransom better access to your asshole. He massaged your tight bud with his honey-coated finger and made deep, hungry love to your pussy with his mouth.

"God god god god, Ransom!" you cried, your hips rolling harder and harder against the man's mouth and finger.

Your body went tense for a few moments and then relaxed. Ransom backed off and watched you languish after your orgasm, pausing briefly to catch your breath. Then you shifted your body and took the hem of your outfit into your hands and peeled it off over your head. Ransom pulled off his T shirt and slid over on top of your luscious body, grinding his rock-hard cock against your pussy as he lowered himself to kiss you.

You whimpered while Ransom's chest mashed down against your heavy, naked tits. They felt amazing against his body, and he was beyond reason when the your mouth opened and set your tongue into motion against his.

Ransom had never kissed any girl so hard or hungrily in his life. Nor had any kissed him back the way you had. At the same time, you were grinding your slick, wet pussy against his cock as hard as he was grinding against you. Then he squeezed his hands in between them and grasped at your tits, kneading them eagerly with his strong hands.

He released your mouth and said," Baby girl, reach down there and put my cock inside you for me. I need that pussy bad, but I can't bring myself to let go of these fantastic tits now that I finally have my hands on them."

You giggled happily and kissed him again while you worked your hands down between your naked bodies. Finally, you got one hand on your pussy and spreading yourself open while you wrapped the other around Ransom's thick cock.

"Oh geezus, fuck, Ransom, you're so fucking hard," you cooed. "Oh god fuck me deep."

You tucked Ransom's cock head into your wet maw and he began grinding his shaft deeper into your sheath. Your pussy felt so tight and creamy, and you both groaned as his rock-hard flesh gradually filled your body. You looked at each other in disbelief, even though nothing had ever felt more right or natural.

Ransom growled as he began to pump his cock in and out of your spectacular body with long strokes. His grip on your tits went tighter and he lowered his head to suck and lick on your swollen nipples.

You whimpered with pleasure, wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding your pussy hard against his thrusting cock. It wasn't long before he was straining to hold on and keep fucking you deep and hard. You didn't make it any easier because of the way you were moaning and your cunt squeezed his pounding cock every time you came.

Finally, Ransom raised himself up on his hands while he pumped your succulent pussy hole as hard and fast as he could, watching your pretty face twist with pleasure while your tits heaved with the force of his lunging body.

"Gimme your cum, baby. I want it in me...fuck!"

With a final, frenzied volley of full body thrusts, Ransom's pulsing cock exploded in your pussy, filling you with a hot flow of jetting spunk.

After, they spent a long time kissing while Ransom caressed the your beautiful tits. He kept his cock buried inside you until his flesh finally started to relax.

You fell asleep in each other's arms, and Ransom knew he had the girl he always needed right there with him. He had been right, all the sarcastic comments and stupid fights had been worth it.

In the morning, Ransom awoke from a haze of dreams to look down and find you lying between his legs with your lips sliding up and down his swollen cock. When you realized he was awake and watching you, you released his big cock from your mouth, giving his shaft a long lick before greeting him.

"Merry Christmas, Ransom."