#it was supposed to be heavy hitting bc he misses the brother that's been in front of him but so far away for so long

[lookwhatyoudidithasanxiety]

Sorta recreation of my reaction to the “I MISS MY BROTHER” line:

(Spoiler tag might be necessary)

//You know what, I didn't intend for it to be one, BUT now I can't unhear/read it ^^'

Also I love the edited in Hershey bar lol//

[harrystylescherry]

tis the damn season vol. 2 SNIPPET

A/N: yes, you did in fact read that correctly. there will be a vol. 2 of tis the damn season...NOT part 2, but VOLUME 2. Meaning, this is not a continuation, or a kind of epilogue, but a whole other scenario. with a different character, in a different universe, but connected by the premise of miss swift's song...bc it is my favorite holiday tune. this will probably be posted around new years, so see you then!

read tis the damn season!

It was the Wednesday before Christmas, and the pub was empty—just how Harry liked it. This year, the holiday was on a weekend, which meant the crowd of school-days-past wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow at the earliest, semi-finishing out their work weeks.

Harry had been in Chesire for a week already, lazy-ing around his mum’s house and patiently waiting for his sister to come from London (she’d be part of the hoard arriving tomorrow). His mum was out for the night, at a holiday party she had with her friends every year. She had invited him along, but that week, he had already crashed a lunch and a festive dinner. The idea of round three felt pathetic.

His cousins were Christmas shopping for their baby—and it’s not that Harry didn’t want to join them, he just knew that it wasn’t the kind of shopping he was into. It was mission-based. Harry preferred the kind of shopping day that took hours and ended with a nice meal—whether or not he completed his list didn’t matter. It was the spirit of it.

So, he was alone. In a pub he frequented every time he came back. They had decorated for the holiday, with the top shelf of the bar lined with stockings that had the staff’s names written on—there were a few he didn’t recognize from the year before. It sat uncomfortably on his chest. He should make more time to visit home—because that’s what it still was to him. It didn’t matter where his house was, that he had spent more months in LA and New York alone (mostly) than he did his mum’s house. They weren’t the same, devoid of that special warmth and love that hit him each time he opened the heavy, oak door.

Garland hung around the perimeter of the room, from the ceiling, and also draped beneath the bar. Poinsettias (which he hated) filled vases on shelves that usually housed more appealing faux bouquets. He did like, however, the Christmas lights strung along the ceiling and wrapped around the posts throughout the space. It made it all quite cozy.

“Thanks, Gerry,” Harry said as he took his pint from across the bar.

The pub door opened, and with it came a gust of cold hair.

“Aye, it’s the new girl,” Gerry called across the bar to the other tender, his younger brother Tommy.

Harry turned just in time to see the smirk on the face of the supposed newcomer. He wasn’t sure if the chill that moved through him was from the burst of cold or the energy that radiated from her. She was completely bundled up, from her big boots to her bright red beanie.

She plucked it off by its pom-pom and dropped it onto the bar top, only five seats down from Harry. “Not new, temporary,” she said.

“Only ‘cause we haven’t won you over yet. Just wait, you won’t dream of leavin’ by time we’re done with you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and unwound the pink and red striped scarf from her neck. She draped it over the seat next to her, then peeled off her coat, revealing long, dark hair that had been tucked down her back.

She was pretty. Harry could tell just from her profile. From her voice. Her nose was suited for a fairy and her cheeks were round—stained pink from the wind.

“The usual?” Tommy asked.

“Please,” she said as she pulled the sleeves of her cream sweater over her hands and fought off a shiver.

“Hi.”

Harry jolted out of his trance and flushed with embarrassment at being caught staring.

“I’m Rosie.” She smiled.

“Harry.”

“I know.” The smirk was back, and he thought, seeing her face so clearly now, it made her look even more beautiful. If that was even possible.

“Right.” He looked down and spun his glass on its coaster,

He heard her thank Tommy for whatever her usual was and listened as they fell into easy, friendly conversation.

“Care to join us?”

He looked up and was met with her smile, and expectant looks from the boys who stood on the other side of the bar, their own drinks in their hands.

“Uh, yeah, why not?”

Harry moved down until they were only a seat apart.

“Rosie’s from London,” Tommy supplied. “Like you.”

“No, technically, Harry’s from here,” Gerry corrected.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Are you visiting family?” Harry cut him off. “For Christmas?”

“Uh, no,” she said with a scrunch of her nose. Harry left her room to elaborate, but she didn’t.

“Rosie’s a writer,” Gerry offered, before taking a sip of his beer. She blushed behind the curtain of her hair.

This was how his small village operated. A new person meant new information, new stories to pass around and gossip about. It didn’t matter if that person was sitting right in front of them. It was charming, but also terrifying. Especially if the stories making the rounds about you weren’t exactly tame, or inconsequential, or PG-13.

“Is she?” He asked, his eyes looking over her.

“I write novels for young adults. Well, I wrote one novel. I’m working on the second. Supposed to be, anyway.”

“S’why she’s here.” Tommy supplied before downing the rest of his glass, just as the pub door opened again.

“Is it?” He was aware that his attempts to flirt right now were abysmal, but he didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to talk to her, not Tommy. He wanted to pry and tease and slide into the seat next to her, but he couldn’t do that with them watching so closely. The things the town would say about that...so these redundant questions were all he had.

“Sort of.” That was all she offered before taking a sip from the glass of white wine in front of her.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

A Vacation: Dean Winchester x f!Reader (Part 1)

Warnings: little bit of angst, fluff, mutual pining

Words: 3.7k

Synopsis: You want to take a vacation and Dean is going to make it happen...

I tried writing in 2nd pov for the first time so I hope it's good! There will be a part 2 soon I just couldn't put it all into one part bc I hate posting things that are super long on here.

Come back for the next part!

Part 2

Rain hit the windows of the cheap motel you, Sam, and Dean were staying at on your latest hunt. The smell of greasy diner food and beer filled the room but it didn’t bother you. You had gotten used to it over the years of hunting with the Winchester brothers and wouldn’t have it any other way.

You had missed when you went hunting on your own for a few months just to think about things. It had been difficult for you to come to terms with Jack and everything that came with him when he first arrived. During that time you really missed the brothers, mainly Dean, so knowing that nothing had changed in the routine when you got back was comforting.

Now things were better with Jack and you were starting to miss the boy too. You doted on him and everyone knew it. You were just another parent to him and he loved you just as much.

Which made you even more excited about your current fantasies.

You and Sam were sitting at the table looking at your laptops. You were supposed to be researching for this case but your mind had focused on something completely different. 

You were looking at beach rentals. The idea had come to you when you were reminded of how Dean had made the off comment of taking a vacation to a beach somewhere. You weren’t sure if he had meant it seriously or not but it had sparked a nostalgic feeling in you. 

And now you were curious if you could actually pull it off. Judging by the prices, there was no way that you could, but that didn’t stop you from hoping that it could happen.

The image of Team Free Will 2.0 at the beach made you smile. Everyone relaxed on the sand, listening to the waves without a care in the world and not a single monster in sight.

The perfect vacation.

“I’m coming up with nothing. What about you?” Sam sighed and brought you somewhat back to reality. 

“Uh,” You glanced at the beach rentals on your page before you shook your head. “Nothing.”

You heard a groan and glanced at Dean. 

He had been sitting on the edge of one of the beds eating after you took over researching for him. His eyebrows were knitted together and he took a long drink of his beer before he looked at us with disbelief. 

“Does this ghost even exist?” He grumbled. “This thing kills people every year and barely anyone’s talking about it.”

He was starting to get antsy. All three of you had been on the case for three days too many without much progress. He was ready to get this over with so he could spend some actual time with you. 

He had planned on it before you all were roped into this. He had expected you to not go since you had just gotten back, but you were more than happy to join them which he didn’t mind. 

Any time spent with you made it worth it, he just wished it was in a different way.

Dean stood up from the bed when he realized his beer was empty. With a heavy sigh he made his way over to the fridge.

“If you thought ghosts didn’t exist, you wouldn’t talk about them either.” You pointed out but his eyes narrowed.

“Only an idiot wouldn’t believe in ghosts.” He mumbled as he opened the fridge.

You snorted and shook your head before you went back to your laptop. You were pulled back into your search in beach rentals, accidentally tuning out the two brothers as they spoke to each other.

“I mean there has to be something about it here.” Sam pushed his hair out of his face.

“We might have to check some files at the police station, me and Y/n can go?” Dean suggested and expected you to say something.

However you hadn’t because you were busy looking at a beautiful beach house right on the sand. 

His eyebrows knitted together and he shut the fridge with a fresh beer in his hand. He looked over your shoulder and when he saw what you were looking at, he raised an eyebrow and stepped closer.

You never struck him as someone who wanted to rent beach houses.

“Beach rentals?” He wondered out loud. 

Your eyes widened and you saw Sam give you a confused look before you hid your face behind the screen. You sent a quick look to Dean behind you and tried to hide the webpage with your hands.

“Why are you peeking over my shoulder?” You cleared your throat but Dean didn’t answer as he got closer to get a better look. 

“Why are you looking up beach rentals?” He turned your laptop to get a better look before you could protest. “You don’t even like the beach.”

You placed your hands in your lap. 

“I like the beach.” You said matter of factly.

Both of the brothers looked at you incredulously as if you had said something completely absurd. They had known you for years and practically knew everything about you since you were an open book or so they thought.

“Since when?” Dean looked at you and you raised an eyebrow. 

You rolled your eyes.

“Since like four when my parents took me to the beach for the first time.” You explained and their expressions fell for a moment. “I enjoyed going there the times I could.”

“But that was decades ago now, why the sudden interest?” Sam wondered and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know, it just came to my mind when I was thinking about a vacation.���

Dean’s face fell into confusion again. You also didn’t strike him as someone who wanted to go on vacation. Of course, all of you needed breaks from time to time so he wondered why you had gone with them if you really wanted a break.

“If you needed a break, you didn’t have to come with us.” He said and you sighed. 

“I’m fine.” You assured him. “I was actually thinking about if we all went to the beach.”

Dean’s eyes widened slightly and he glanced at Sam. A vacation with all of them? The two of them had done that once but it didn’t last very long before they were called back into hunting. He wasn’t sure if that was a good idea.

Dean could see that Sam wasn’t exactly on board with the idea at the moment. You all had a case you were still working and at the rate you were moving at, who knew how long it would take.

“After this maybe we can find a case near the coast.” Sam suggested but you quickly shook your head.

“No, if we were to go, I’d want it to be a true vacation.” You stated firmly and his lips pressed into a line. “No hunts whatsoever.”

“Well, where would you get the money for it?” Dean looked at you and your face fell.

Though you had gone down this search knowing that it would never happen, having Sam and Dean not as interested hurt a little more than expected. You had hoped that maybe they would be since you all were dealing with a lot on your plate, but the two weren’t exactly ones to want to step away from hunting.

You took back your laptop and shut it before you stood up. You walked over to your bed before you set it on the mattress and then went for your bag. You sifted through your clothes and other items for your fake FBI badge.

Unfortunately your mood had been slightly ruined by their scruintity but now you were back into hunter mode which meant you would be more focused on the case.

“I don’t know.” You said absentmindedly as you searched. “It was just a thought.”

Dean’s face fell and his eyebrows knitted together as he watched you. When he saw the disappointment on your face, he looked at the ground and scratched the back of his neck while a pit formed in his stomach.

He hadn’t meant to put you off the idea but he just couldn’t really wrap his head around it. 

Hunters didn’t take vacations. There was always somebody that needed saving so it was off the table. None of you exactly had the means to make it happen since hunting wasn’t a paid job.

But you looked happy when you were searching through the website so Dean had to fix that.

“Dean?” You called out to him again and pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He looked up at you expectantly. 

“If we’re going to the police station you need to change from lumberjack to federal agent.”

His eyes narrowed and you smiled. He didn’t say anything as he chugged the rest of his beer and tossed it in the trash while giving you a look.

~

The police station was quiet as you clicked through the files on the computer with Dean hovering over your shoulder. So far, there was still nothing on the ghost you were looking for even when you looked through the recent victim’s files. 

It didn’t help that the computer was ancient and took nearly fifteen minutes to open one file. 

You rested your chin on your hand while you waited for the next file to open, completely oblivious to Dean who was looking at you instead of the screen. You were slowly becoming more and more grumpy from the slow computer.

It wasn’t how he wanted to spend time alone with you, but at least now he had something else to think about other than the case since it was practically a dead end. With this newfound knowledge, he could get somewhere.

“So when you say the beach, you mean like the whole package?” He asked in a low voice to keep the quiet.

You raised an eyebrow and gave him your full attention. You weren’t sure why he was bringing this up all of the sudden and part of you really didn’t want to talk about it with him again.

“Whole package?” You questioned and he gestured vaguely. 

“You know, sandcastles, big umbrellas, sand in places where it shouldn’t be.” He explained and you couldn’t help but scoff.

“I guess. If you want to put it that way.”

Dean nodded. He watched as you looked back at the screen when the file opened but he didn’t pay any attention to it as more leading questions filled his mind.

“What kind of beach rental?” He continued as he leaned on the desk. 

“I don’t know. Something affordable but big enough for all of us.” You shrugged without looking away from the computer.

The beach wasn’t a concern to you right now. You were starting to get annoyed with how this case was turning out with all of it dead ends and Dean not helping was…well not helping the situation.

“Makes sense.” He mumbled to himself. “We could share rooms too.”

“Yep.” You huffed.

But Dean couldn’t focus on anything else. He wanted your idea to really work even if you both knew it wouldn’t happen. He barely noticed the annoyed look on your face as he leaned closer to you with his hands in his lap.

“What would we do?” He wondered and you placed a hand over your face. “I mean I know we’d hang out on the beach but would you want to do anything else?”

Your eyebrows knitted together as you studied the files. You could see a pattern in the victims now and the more you looked, the more prominent it became. How did you miss this before?

“I’d be up for getting authentic seafood if you want.” Dean continued and you tapped him on the hand. 

“Dean.”

“I’ve never swam in the ocean before so I can try that.”

“Dean-”

“I’ll only get on a boat if I get to drive it-”

“Dean!”

You yelled a little louder than you wanted to which caught the attention of a few officers. You gave them a sheepish smile and a quick wave, trying to make them turn their attention away so you could show Dean then get out of there.

Dean’s ears turned a little red when he realized he had been rambling and ignoring you. He hadn’t meant for that to happen but he wouldn’t admit to you or anyone that he had got caught up in the idea of going to the beach with you.

Once the officers lost interest, you tugged him down closer so he could get a better look at the screen.

“I figured it out.” You said and he studied the screen for a moment. “Call Sam.”

“We’ll continue our conversation later.” He mumbled as he pulled out his phone and rushed out of the station.

You watched him disappear with knitted eyebrows. Why was he so hung up on going to the beach now? The case had been boring up until just a moment ago so there was no reason to continue it. 

You shut down the computer and rushed after him. 

It didn’t matter. Right now, you needed to get to the ghost before he killed another person.

~

Your muscles ached, specifically your back, as you shuffled into the motel room. You didn’t say anything as you flopped face down onto your bed with a long sigh. 

The hunt was over. Finally.

After burning the body and then finding out that the body was not enough, the past however long it took you all to find the attached item had ended up with you a little bruised and tired. The ghost had managed to get a few good hits on all of you but luckily no one had died. 

It was a successful hunt and now you didn’t have to sit staring at a screen for three days straight anymore. You couldn’t wait to be back at the bunker in your nice mattress instead of the crappy motel one.

The Winchesters walked in after you, also a little sore but they were in good spirits. They got the job done and compared to a lot of other ones in the past, it had been pretty easy. 

Now that it was out of the way, Dean found he was a little excited to talk to you about the vacation you wanted again. He was ready to make it happen after having another close encounter with death.

That was until he saw you laying face down on your bed unmoving. At first he thought maybe you had been seriously hurt and he resisted the urge to force you to sit up so he could look you over for any wounds.

“You okay?” Dean wondered as he stared down at you. 

“I’m tired.” Your voice was muffled as you spoke into the pillow. “And sore.”

He let out a silent sigh of relief before he smirked. He always found it cute how quickly you got tired after a hunt. You were an excellent hunter and an excellent sleeper. But that meant your talk would have to wait until the morning.

Unless…

“You want to shower first?” He asked and his smile grew wider when you perked up.

“Please?” You gave him and Sam puppy dog eyes even though you didn’t need to.

They always let you take a shower first unless one of them was absolutely covered in grime or blood.

“Fine with me.” Sam sat down on the edge of his and Dean’s shared bed.

“Thanks!”

They watched as you gathered your bag and rushed to the bathroom. When the door shut, Dean waited until he heard the water turn on before he grabbed your laptop and turned it on.

He had an idea. If he wasn’t going to be able to talk to you about it, why not take it into his own hands. This could be a good opportunity to do something nice for you, as a surprise rather than something completely planned.

You would like that. At least, he hoped you would but he would deal with it if you didn’t.

“What are you doing?” Sam’s wary voice cut through the silence.

“Seeing if that website is still on here.” Dean mumbled as he quickly searched through your history.

“You actually want to go to the beach?”

Dean didn’t say anything as he found the website and quickly searched it up on his phone. When he found the right one, he made sure to close out everything on your laptop and put it back where it had been like he hadn’t touched it. 

He then walked over to the fridge and got a beer while staring at his phone.

There were some reasonably priced rentals on here, but none that were cheap enough with the money you all had combined. That wasn’t a problem anymore though. Dean didn’t mind breaking a few laws to get you the house that you wanted.

“We don’t even know if we like the beach.” Sam pointed out a little loudly and Dean shushed him.

“Can’t find out unless we go and if she wants to, this is our chance.” He argued back without looking up. “C’mon, I was talking about that one time.”

“Yeah, but not this seriously.”

Dean sent him a quick look as he sat on the edge of your bed. He didn’t care if he didn’t like it as much as you did if you were happy and having fun. You had been so excited talking about it that it was only fair to let it be about you, even if you wanted everyone to come along. 

“If you don’t want to go, that's fine.” Dean said and Sam grumbled. 

“I didn’t say that.” He huffed as he tossed his jacket to the floor. “Maybe it should just be you two though, so you can figure your feelings out.”

Dean paused his scrolling and gave Sam a confused look. What did he mean by that? Feelings? What kind of feelings? His stomach flipped and his heart began to beat a little faster as he stared at his brother. 

“What are you talking about?” His eyes narrowed as Sam raised an eyebrow. 

“You can’t be serious.” He shook his head and when Dean shrugged he scoffed. “You love Y/n, Dean!”

Dean’s eyes widened and he immediately felt hot. His stomach flipped a few times and he had to set down his beer before the smell made him nauseous. Then his heart began to beat just a little faster and he looked away from his brother with the shake of his head. 

“That’s…That’s not what’s going on.” He stuttered and cleared his throat. “Y/n is a friend.”

“Right and Jack isn’t a nephilim. You have feelings for her, what’s wrong with that?” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t have feelings for her!”

Dean had never felt this hot before. He would be angry at his brother if he hadn’t been caught off guard by what he said. 

Sure, he liked to hang out with you a lot more than he did with others and whenever you were upset he always wanted to be the one to make you happier. He liked having your opinion on things and whenever he saw you it made his day just a bit better. And maybe when you laughed he felt queasy and when you hugged him he never wanted to let you go. So what if he got a little jealous when you had talked about other men in the past, he just didn’t like that you would end up spending less time with him.

He couldn’t imagine his life without you in it and whenever he thought of the future you were always there, with him…

Oh. 

Oh no.

Dean’s face fell and he swallowed the thickness in his throat. 

He would do anything for you. Of course he would! He was renting a goddamn beach house for you like it was nothing, like he was a normal person. Christ, he was head over heels for you and he hadn’t even realized he was.

Dean Winchester loved you. 

He cursed under his breath and rubbed his hands over his face. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He didn’t regret loving you, not at all, but it wasn’t right to have these kinds of feelings for a friend. 

He knew that much.

Did you love him back? That was doubtful and that was the bad part. He was used to unrequited love, to lack of attachment, but this time it really hurt to think that you would never feel the same.

He wished he hadn’t come to this realization right now.

“It’s not a bad thing, Dean.” Sam said after silence but Dean shook his head. “Just tell her you love her.”

“Yeah, well it ain’t that easy.” He huffed and stood up from the bed.

“I get it, but you’ll feel better if you just do it.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something when you stepped out of the shower. He hadn’t even heard you cut off the water but he hoped you hadn’t heard what they had been talking about.

Judging by the content look on your face, you hadn’t.

Which was true. You had been preoccupied with drying yourself off and brushing your teeth, you didn’t notice their muffled voices behind the door. You were so used to being around them that when they spoke to each other, it was the perfect white noise.

“Gotta say, this motel has better showers than most.” You sighed and made your way to your bed.

Sam and Dean were giving each other looks as you walked by. Sam was trying to get him to confess but Dean was giving him a glare for even suggesting that. You were everything to him and he didn’t want that to disappear. He could lose you if he told you how he felt and he needed you. He couldn’t do it.

They stopped when you sat on your bed and looked at them both curiously.

“Did I miss something?” You tilted your head.

Sam opened his mouth to say something but Dean cut him off. 

“I was just heading out to get some food.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave you a quick smile. “You want anything?”

It wasn’t strange for Dean to get food out after a hunt and honestly you were grateful he was this time. All the action had made you hungry.

“Same as what you get.” You smiled.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He was definitely taking you to the beach no matter what.

[surajmukhis]

yesterday's ep gave me brainworms so here have (3+1) 'i tried to kill you but i can't do it' trope with toddblack:

toddblack au where black is an assassin and todd's the rising star of thailand's political scene. there's a hit out on him bc he's young, popular and corrupt but he's walking the line just enough that his work is actually. creating positive changes in society? and nobody can tell if he's following a secret agenda under the pretence of being corrupt or if he actually is just bad at even being evil, but either way – there are people ruffled in high places and they want him out.

so black accepts the hit. he's a ghost in the business; clean, quiet, in and out, quick work. he doesn't make a fuss and he doesn't ever miss. he combs through all of the data and footage on todd and when he knows the guy's dimpled smile like the back of his hand, he goes in.

except. todd knows. he's waiting for black on his sofa, awake even though it's six am and all the intel said he should've been asleep. black's had a few run-ins like this, facing down a target when he hasn't planned for it but it's strange pulling his gun out in the cold morning light.

unfortunately, he doesn't get to shoot. todd smiles, the one with his dimple, and holds out a thin file. black doesn't like to indulge last-moment tricks but todd grins – 'scared i'll give you the slip?' – and the implication is insulting enough to have him yanking the file out of the other's hands.

tucked inside are transcripts and pictures. enough for black to understand what's happening. the man who ordered the hit is about to be arrested. 'all his contracts and dealings are being voided,' todd sighs, leaning back, head cradled on intertwined fingers. 'i don't suppose you'll be able to collect a check from a frozen account?'

black's jaw clenches. involuntary. 'i received a pretty heavy advance,' he says, lowly. 'could probably take out a limb or two, at least.' it'd be easy, at this hour, on this deserted floor. cock the gun. shoot. leave.

the politician's smile doesn't flicker. if black spared the time to think about it, he'd wonder at the complete cool this todd guy has, staring down a barrel. 'if memory serves, the authorities are probably combing through his payments as we speak.' todd's face twists into something sympathetic. 'you might want to make sure they don't find any links to your account. no?'

it's a stupid distraction. shouldn't work. the only reason it does is bc his account is managed by white. his brother doesn't know what he does, but he insists on cleaning the books and if anything gets traced back to him, black would have to fight tooth and nail to clear his twin.

he leaves todd's penthouse the same way he got in, and promises himself to get the fucker next time.

still, black has a code. all fucked up and morally grey (black?) though he may be, he doesn't kill unless there's a hit specifically ordered.

fortunately, more people want todd dead.

the next time a price is set for todd's head, black scraps his ongoing mission to take it. heads straight to the club he knows todd owns and finds himself ushered up to the vip section before he can even try sneaking in unnoticed.

this time, todd isn't alone. another man is seated by his side on the dark loveseat, but the politician lifts his gaze only to meet black's and doesn't look away.

'had a feeling we'd meet again,' he greets, the shadows of his face looking amused even under the dim neons. black doesn't say anything, but his fingers twitch. he doesn't like being predicted.

'get out,' he tells the guy cozied up against his target. 'unless you want a lot of blood on that shirt.'

todd, who he's rapidly realising might be more of a problem than previously expected, looks delighted at the threat. 'promise?'

god. black pulls out his gun. in response, todd's groupie scrambles upright, and his bodyguard, with the world's slowest reflexes, yells out a warning for him to stand down.

todd waves him off. 'better make it quick,' he grins, addressing black. 'word on the street is a police raid's coming pretty soon.'

he's bluffing. he has to be. there's no way a guy who sees his death warrant approaching, sabotages his own club and bleeds money when there's so many better ways to avoid ending up dead. if he always knows black's coming, he doesn't need to take the most inconvenient route possible to squirm out of this. and yet—

black glares as todd takes a long sip of his drink, staring. for once, he's the one being sized up by a target. it would be refreshing, if it wasn't for the way his knuckles are starting to itch for something.

'you're welcome to stay and watch the chaos,' todd says finally. like he's just a polite host. 'i'm sure the police would love to have a word.'

motherfucker.

when the thumping music stops only seconds later, loud official warnings fill the air, and black knows he wasn't lying. fighting down every instinct that screams at him to grab todd by the collar, he makes for the back exit, steps wide and pace quick, till he realises there are voices coming from there, too. he's blocked.

'i could request them to leave you alone,' black hears todd say, standing behind him now. looking at his face reveals a sleek calm he's getting used to encountering. todd shrugs. 'the club's not technically under my name. they can't touch me. i'll let you walk free, if that's what you'd like.'

black snorts. 'if i cancel the hit, you mean.' todd's lips quirk up for a second before he returns to his collected composure.

'spare me,' he requests, purposely pleading with wide eyes. a pause and then—his usual smile breaks the facade of sincerity. 'what if i promise i'll behave this time?'

black rolls his eyes. he won't say it worked, but he's walking out of the club a while later, untouched, with a fresh deal fulfilled. can't say it didn't work, either.

the third time he sees a hit order with todd's name on it, he's almost tempted to pass it along to someone else. but gumpa doesn't really do hits anymore, more or less settled now as black's handler. better to go and see this out instead of fielding the interrogation he'll get if he tries to push this away.

black gets into the penthouse just like the first time. minimal effort, zero unplanned encounters. but then he walks into the massive living room and—everything's a mess.

todd is unwell, he realises, when the politician looks up from the mess of papers and files sprawled across the floor. 'oh,' todd says. like he's just realising how late the hour is, instead of panicking about seeing his designated assassin a third time. 'again?'

black nods, feeling a little strange in his chest at the absence of todd's usual twinkle. it returns a bit when he grins and says, 'i suppose this time i deserve it, huh?' but the words can't filter out the disquiet quality fluttering about him.

black knows what's happened. some of todd's decisions have been facing fire and he's finally started getting flak from others in the corrupt system. but he's not doing anything wrong, morally. or at least black doesn't think so, and black can just barely recognise morals anymore. 'get in bed,' he says, brain already spinning out excuses for what he'll have to tell gumpa when he goes back, gun still loaded. 'and eat some fucking medicine, you look like a ghost. can't solve shit when you're that sick.'

todd doesn't say anything. just looks at black for a long moment before nodding.

black doesn't stay. he's not fucking stupid, hanging around to befriend a target but ten minutes later finds him at the nearest chemist, buying some crap to have delivered to 'the obnoxious asshole in that penthouse'. he's not stupid but that doesn't mean he can't make stupid decisions. whatever.

it's only when gumpa mentions mildly, weeks later, how his target walking around hale and hearty isn't doing any favours for their brand that black forces his head back in the game. books it to find todd and do...smth (he's not sure what, yet) but todd is, apparently, an idiot bigger than the guy white's started dating. he doesn't spot black tailing him, doesn't notice the traffic light turning green, has hardly looked up to see the huge truck hurtling over. no, the fucker's focused on a phone call as he starts crossing the road.

black's fingers wrap around todd's arm and yank, pulling him back narrowly before the six-wheeler rattles past.

'you're a fucking child,' he seethes, letting go with a snarl. 'are all politicians this thick in the head? is it an entry level requirement?'

if he's surprised, todd's grin covers it instantly. black thinks he could shatter glass with the feeling rumbling through him at the sight of it. 'come on. there's a difference btw oblivious and stupid.'

black wishes it wasn't a crowded intersection they were standing at. his gun is trembling against his lower back. 'what idiot argues semantics after experiencing that?'

'i'm literally a politician, i argue all the t—'

'you almost just died, jackass.'

it's seven different types of ridiculous that he has to be the one to point this out. does the guy really have zero awareness? maybe black's been going about this the wrong way, should just sit back and wait for fate to do her magic without interrupting to—

his brain screeches to a halt. todd's already frowning, confused, like he can't quite be certain of what he just heard but then his eyebrows rise, pointed. and black? black has to leave. now.

he moves, feet instantly setting off, taking him rapidly away from the nuisance planting himself in his life, like it'll magically undo what just happened.

maybe gumpa has it right. retirement isn't a bad idea. at his current rate of stupidity, black's not far from scoring eligibility for politics.

and then obv eventually todd's rivals send other assassins after him and black goes mildly feral bc that's his target. he deals with them every time it happens and finally he has to admit to himself: maybe he's just a pathetic simp bodyguard for his bf now<3

[nancywheelersgirlfriend]

hey so for the fic request, i was wondering if you could do a fic about the mike will jonathan and argyle road-trip but they have to stay at a motel and byler has to share a bed (not anything yk bc they’re literally children) but through mikes pov i just wanna see him have a gay panic and freak out and get his inner thoughts

this is my first byler fic!! more of a short character study than anything. i hope this is what you were looking for!!! :)

gentle on my mind (1,392 words)

“We can only afford one room.”

Mike didn’t realize he was supposed to react with anything but mild annoyance before the sentence hit him square in the chest. Nearly knocked back by the emotional weight, in reality he stood and teetered to the side. The rest of the group interpreted this as his tiredness. He knew otherwise.

There was something about the implication of one room that bothered him. Two beds. Four boys. Honestly, the fact that it was getting to him was worse than the actual situation; had he never shared his bed before? Of course he had. Back when they were small enough, he and Lucas would sleep shoulder-to-shoulder on the bottom bunk of his bedroom, Dustin and Will on the top. That was how they spent summer nights. But they’d stopped doing that years ago. Mike had been sleeping alone.

Tonight, though, he wouldn’t be. Out in nowhere Nevada, shackled by clothes days-old and smelly, stood in between his best friend’s brother and said brother’s best friend, ignoring all eye contact with his best friend and trying not to wish for the world to implode. 

Instead Mike stared at the water stain on the ceiling that looked a little like a mushroom cloud. He could hear Jonathan’s low conversation with the woman at the desk only in subtle vocal tones - parents in Charlie Brown style. He knew, distantly, that this should be the least of his worries. And it was. He was trying to make it so, at least. El was somewhere lost in the desert. He hadn’t seen her in days. Sleeping arrangements shouldn’t have mattered to him.

“You alright, little dude?” Argyle asked. His voice was swimming. Mike turned away from the ceiling to glance over his shoulder, realizing he’d stayed rooted in place while his travel companions had begun heading for their motel room. 

“Uh, yeah,” Mike said intelligently. He picked up his lead-heavy feet and followed after, trailing and bumping into the columns as they walked back across the parking lot. He missed the comfort of his own bed. He missed his ability to avoid conversations he didn’t want to have. 

Sleeping in a bed with Will meant that they would have to talk. About what, exactly, Mike honestly wasn’t too sure of. The list seemed endless. He dreaded having to come up with reasons for why he had acted the way he had - all oblivious and stupid, no letters or calls or nothing. In reality he had no justification for the way he had treated Will. In his mind…

In his mind it was a different story. But a story he wasn’t willing to utter aloud, especially to the boy he’d have to survive sleeping next to. Getting killed in his sleep wasn’t on Mike’s bucket list. 

He watched Jonathan fiddle with the lock, some shitty key bent halfway down from years of misuse. Across the motel Mike suspected no-doubt shady dealings were going down; they were so isolated. Still in the back of his mind he knew the most intense and unpleasant event to happen that night would be sharing this stupid bed. 

“Right or left?” Will asked. Mike blinked back into focus to see that somehow, somewhere, he had made it through the heavy red door and was now stood at the foot of the offending bed. He looked at his best friend and back down at the mattress. 

“I don’t care,” Mike managed to choke out. He spun on his heel because just the sight of the bed was making his hands clammy. Will shuffled behind him, Jonathan and Argyle arguing by the bathroom sink. Mike moved to stand and look out the motel window. Past the opposite end of rooms, rooms potentially available to avoid sleeping in the same bed as your best friend, the desert stretched on endlessly. El could be anywhere. They were so alone out there. Mike was alone.

Except -

“Let’s go to sleep,” Will dragged out the last word childishly. Mike heard the springs of the mattress groan underneath his weight. He tore his eyes from the desert and submitted to his fate. 

Will was sprawled out on the bed, long legs kicking back and all, his hair ruffled from the day’s stress. His face was pressed into the pillow. Mike watched his mouth come slightly ajar to breathe deeper in sleep, eyes pressed shut. His eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks. He’d gotten tan in California, hadn’t he? Mike had never seen Will as anything other than on the verge of translucent. But the sun had given him colors. And freckles. Freckles that spread out across his nose, his arms. They dotted his forehead, disappearing into his bangs. It looked good. He looked good - you know. Having color. It made him healthy. Obviously he didn’t look good for any other reason.

“Mike!” Will said again. He flopped out a spaghetti limb to pat at the empty space beside him, but he didn’t open his eyes. Mike swallowed, sent up a quick prayer, and submitted to his fate.

Jonathan flicked off the last light left in between them. The room was shrouded in darkness. Only the blue light of the motel sign across the way was visible. Its neon power dripped onto the floor through the blinds, casting shadows on Will’s face. 

Mike knew he should turn over on his other side and forget the whole thing entirely. Laying on this side (his left) specifically to watch Will do whatever it was he did while he was sleeping was the stupidest idea Mike had ever had the pleasure of having. But he didn’t turn around. And neither did Will. The latter because he was halfway to REM by this point. The former for no particular reason.

Except there was a reason. He liked watching the way Will’s eyelashes fluttered everytime he took a breath. The subtle shift of his chest in a rhythm Mike appreciated paying attention to. The way the blue light of the sign lit up Will’s face in a way Mike had never seen before. Distantly Mike was reminded of the time he’d slept over at Will’s house during his period of hospitalization. How strange and affected Will had been then. He’d been at his palest. Sickly.

Now he looked healthy and good. He looked like a stranger. Maybe Mike had been the one making him sickly all along, and now that Will had moved he was thriving. He didn’t know. They hadn’t had time to talk about it. No letters or phonecalls either. Mike realized he’d committed a worse act than sharing a bed with your best friend - sharing a bed with a stranger.

God, but he didn’t want Will to be a stranger. It killed him inside to call him that. He wanted to know everything about Will inside and out. He wanted to be with Will constantly so that he wouldn’t even have to tell him - they’d sense it together, as they had when they were kids. He missed that closeness. He was desperately craving it right now, lying with a good foot of space in between himself and Will.

Slowly the realization that Mike had been avoiding for years budded at the back of his neck; like a Pompeii-level migraine. He ignored it. There were more important things to worry about. El was gone. He hadn’t called his mom in days and had no real way to.

But he wanted. Mike wanted. What he wanted he couldn’t admit. But it felt realer than anything else. 

Mike reached out and brushed apart Will’s bangs on his forehead, feather light and nearly unregistered. Will let out a little sigh but he kept his eyes closed. His hair had felt nice.

Mike was hit with a wave of wish, suddenly, to touch Will everywhere. Feel his hair by burying his hands in it. Pull him close for warmth even though Mike was burning up with a mental fever. Press all his fingers into the individual freckles to keep them there, hold them down. 

He was just tired. He was just confused. There were more important things to worry about. Mike swallowed back all protests against himself and shut his eyes. The image of Will, sleeping there with a hand tucked underneath his head, stayed.

It was the best thing he’d ever seen. 

[twinklelilstarkey]

can i request an fluffy rafe imagine where he and reader break up (drugs) so sarah makes a girls night bc y/n it’s really sad and then rafe apologizes to her and they back together? omg i think it’s a little confuse..

A/N: Not confusing at all babe. I really like what you requested! Hope you enjoy it! — I’m sorry for not making it as fluffy as you probably wanted me too ❤️

Get help - Rafe Cameron

Words: 2.9k

Type: Angst & Fluff

Warnings: I- This is wayyy more sad that I intended it to be. Sorry? (Mentions of drug addiction and rehabilitation clinics, swearing... and I think that’s it)

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

It’s been a week since you last saw him and it still hurt. You miss him so much and it has become harder and harder to ignore these feelings. You have tried making yourself believe that this happened for the best of the two of you but it’s slowly getting tougher to swallow.

You and Rafe had been dating for years before that night happened, it still hurt to think of him.

You believe you’ve cried everything you could. Your body is now completely dehydrated and no tears are being created. In which you can’t help but thank with your now zombie-like mood.

“I’m going to get us a coffee, do you want anything else?” Sarah, your best friend, who is sitting next to you, asks.

You shake your head and she gives you a small smile. You stare back at the screen of your laptop, in hopes to finish what you were previously doing for school, and try to ignore all the sound around you.

You whisper the words you were reading to yourself, trying to make them make sense, but your peaceful silence is broken by a group of guys walking in the café. You sigh annoyed while staring at the screen, wanting to throw something at their loud mouths. But decide otherwise.

“Hey, Sarah. Haven’t seen you in a while” One of the guy says and you lift your eyes to where Sarah is standing.

Sarah smiles at Topper and starts a conversation as soon as she does it. You look away from them and look at the other person standing beside him, Rafe. He’s looking around himself, eyeing the inside of the café that he has never seen before. 

You force yourself to look away and lean back on the couch that you’re siting, trying to pay attention to something else other than him as your chest gets heavier and heavier by each second that passes.

Sarah says a little goodbye to Topper and ignores her brother’s presence before walking towards you. Rafe fakes trying to trip Sarah and she sends him a glare, which just made all the boys laugh. 

His eyes follow his sister and his smile falls at the sight of you staring at the screen of your laptop. You look up at Sarah as she hands you your drink and laugh at something she says.

He pleads, in his mind, for you to look up at him but you don’t do it. You’re too distracted with whatever his sister is saying to you. And only God knows that might be.

“Yo, Rafe. Can you please come back to Earth for a second?” Topper asks, making his best friend snap out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, what, sorry?”

(...)

“I promise it will be cool” Sarah insists, “We can spend the night watching movies and eating junk food”

“How is going to my ex boyfriend’s house going to help me move on or even feel better?” You ask as she lays comfortably in your bed.

“He’s never home at Friday’s!” She exclaims, “We’ll have the house to ourselves the whole night. It’s way better than staying here, where you need to have your door open because of your parents... Seriously, when are they going to trust you enough to close the door?”

You chuckle at her words and shake your head.

“Ah! Made you laugh!”

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to your book.

“Now, can you please agree on coming over to my house? It will be so cool, I already have so many movies in mind. Oh! And soooo many snacks”

You think for a few seconds in silence.

“Please” She whispers into the air, looking at the ceiling, “You will have so much fuuun”

As Sarah is done singing her words, a smile fills your lips again and you sigh.

“Fine. But just tonight”

(...)

If Sarah could describe out loud what she’s feeling, she would have to do a whole essay. Because...

Why the fuck is Rafe still home at this time of day? Isn’t he supposed to be in a party?

The thing is, you’re almost getting to her house. Just like you had planned. There’s snacks on top of Sarah’s bed, the chosen movie is already paused at her bedroom tv and the pizza is also on its way.

Her 19 year old brother is the one fucking it all up. 

You’re supposed to come into her home to forget about him, and be calm and relaxed. And now, she feels like wherever she looks, Rafe’s there.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at a party today?” Sarah finally asks.

Rafe looks up from his phone, still leaning back on the kitchen counter, not even knowing that she had been glaring at him this whole time.

“Yeah, but I decided not to go” He answers with a shrug.

“Won’t that make you a bad friend?”

She’s using every play in the book now. She needs him gone for at least the whole night.

Rafe chuckles at his sister’s words and looks at her confused.

“No?”

Sarah sighs and walks over to the fridge when listening to his answer. Rafe follows her with his eyes as she fills a cup with water and curiosity takes over him.

“Why?”

“No reason”

“Bullshit”

Sarah rolls her eyes at his stubbornness and looks back before staring back at him.

“I wanted the whole house for myself and my friend, is that too much to ask?”

Rafe laughs.

“Since when am I such a bother to your little sleepovers? You never leave your room anyway”

Sarah opens her mouth to answer but the ringing of the doorbell stops her from doing so. Rafe lifts his eyebrows as if in surprise when seeing her reaction and lowers his eyes back to his phone.

Sarah glares at her brother when noticing that he isn’t planning on leaving the kitchen any soon and turns on her heels to go to the front door. 

As she walks closer to the door, she smiles at you through the glass and opens it.

“Hi!” She says excitingly, “Are you ready for the night of your life?”

You smile at her, “Sure”.

Sarah steps to the side to let you in the house, and you wait for her to start walking towards her room so you can follow her.

As you pass the kitchen doorway, you can’t help but look inside. You’re used to looking in and seeing Rose doing something, but this time, it isn’t Rose. It’s Rafe.

Air gets caught in your throat and you look away as quickly as you can. Rafe stays on his phone innocently, not even acknowledging who just came into his house.

Should you say something to Sarah? Does she not know that he’s in the house too?

You and Sarah get to her room rather quickly and she closes the door right behind you two as you walk in.

She’s quick to lay in her bed and open the covers for you, and you can’t help but grin at her as she opens one bag of chips right away.

“You ready?” She asks before pressing the play and you nod, “Let’s go”

Sarah presses the play and the sound of the universal studios entrance fills the silent room. You bring the covers closer to you and Sarah hands you the bag of chips just so you can take some of them.

And...

Not even halfway through the movie, Sarah highly regrets watching the movie while laying down because she’s out like a light.

You stare at the TV in silence, grinning slightly at Sarah’s slight snores as the main characters talk about their feelings in the TV.

But your mind is occupied with something else. You’re not paying much attention to the movie anymore. The plot stopped being of your interested when you noticed that Sarah had chosen the movie purely because of the cast.

Understandable, we’ve all done it. But romance movies are not a good choice when you’re trying to forget your failed relationship.

Already tired with your thoughts, you stand on your feet, away from the bed and drag yourself out of the bedroom.

Rafe must be in his party, now, since that was what Sarah said when you questioned his presence in the kitchen.

You walk down the stairs of the empty and silent house and drag your warm feet over the cold ground towards the kitchen.

As you grab a cup from the shelf above you, you almost groan at all the memories that hit you at once.

All the times that you and Rafe made breakfast on his days off classes, eating cheap fluffy pancakes until you felt sick with just the idea of drinking water. Or when you helped him through a big hangover after a big party.

The second memory hits you like a tone of bricks. 

Those mornings and the nights before, after the parties, were the reason of your breakup. You couldn’t stand to see Rafe kill himself with all the alcohol almost every night and the various drugs that his friends could get a hold of each month.

You walk towards the fridge, chest heavy with heartbreak, and fill your cup with cold water. The feeling of the freezing temperature over your fingertips wakes you up back to reality.

You hear steps in the hallway, right outside of the kitchen, and you don’t think much of it as it might be Sarah.

The door swings open and your eyes widen slightly at the sight of Rafe. His hair a complete mess, his eyes hold a sleepless look, and his clothes are slightly scrunched up. He looks like he’s had a rough night.

You don’t say anything, looking away as he looks at you. He clears his throat as if to fill the silence in the air and walks towards the shelf, grabbing a glass cup. 

He didn’t know you were the one sleeping over.

He doesn’t look at you or says anything. 

You can’t help but think in all this silence how much you want to run home, right now. You love Sarah but you can’t stay here any longer.

Your feet don’t move from under you and you’re left to stare at the floor as Rafe fills his cup with water as well. 

Both of you silent, fearing to break the peaceful absence of sound as your minds fill with all the good memories and the possible beginnings of conversation.

You finish your water and walk towards the sink to leave the cup beside it. Rafe’s eyes stay on you as you do it, but you don’t care to look up before walking out of the kitchen.

“Shit” Rafe whispers to himself as he hears your footsteps getting further away from the doorway.

You walk in the living room, not wanting to go back to bed, and make your way towards the glass sliding doors that lead to the porch.

The warm air of the last summer night hits you and you walk out, leaving the door slightly open. You walk towards the railing of the porch and lean against it, watching the calm waters under the dim lighting coming from the house.

You sigh as you rest your cheek over your fist and close your eyes to try and concentrate on your breathing other than your feelings.

The door behind you slides slightly but you don’t care to look back to see who it is. But that is until, it slides closed and someone stands right beside you.

“I wanted to talk to you” Rafe says.

You take a quick look at him before staring away into the grass of the garden right in front of you.

“About?” You ask in a whisper as he doesn’t say anything else.

“I don’t know” He answers with a shrug and you frown in confusion, “I just wanted to talk to you”

He really likes making everything worse for you, uh?

“We’re not supposed to be in talking terms,” You answer, “Not after our last conversation”

“I know”

You look down at your hands and play with your fingers as a way to fight out your emotions.

“I’ve- Uhm...” Rafe starts but pauses. You look up at him and see him scratching the back of his neck while staring at the ground.

“You’ve what?” You encourage.

“I’ve been clean for a week” He admits and looks down at you.

You look away and do a very small smile, rather fake, while staring at the grass once again.

“Hope it lasts” You say before biting your cheek.

“Me too”

Silence, again.

“I’m... I’m sorry for not listening to you before. About the addiction, I mean.”

You don’t say anything.

“You were right, and I was too stupid to not want to listen to you” He continues, “I’m sorry”

You look up to find him still staring. His gaze softens at the sight of you finally looking back and you give him a slight grin.

“You don’t need to say sorry. I’m sure it’s not something easy to swallow, to hear someone say that you’re addicted to something”

Rafe observes your expression twitch slightly at the mention of his addiction and his chest tightens at your saddened gaze as you sigh.

“I did it to myself” He admits with a shrug, “Just didn’t expect these many consequences to come from it”

“Like?”

The look he gives you is a good enough answer. You look away with that and he tenses up next to you.

He just screwed everything up, didn’t he?

“It happens, Rafe” You whisper, “At least it was able to motivate you into changing”

“Yeah... It was” He agrees, “I just- you know, feel like this could’ve been done in other ways”

“Of course, it could’ve” You answer bringing your shoulder up as if you’re shrugging, “This is just where our argument took us”

Rafe can’t help but disagree. It wasn’t the ‘argument’s fault’, it’s his. His words. His sick and disgustingly affected by whatever he took, words.

“Will you ever forgive me?” He blurs out, catching both you and himself by surprise.

“Forgive you?” You ask confused, “I’m not even mad at you”

“You’re not?”

“No” You say with a frown, shaking your head slightly, “I’m mad at myself more than I am at you. I could’ve helped you before you became addicted, and I-”

“You know it isn’t your fault that I’m the fuck-up that I am, right?” He asks you and you glare at him.

“Don’t call yourself that” You say, “We’ve been over this, Rafe.”

“It’s true” He says with a slightly annoyed tone, “I fuck up everything, I’m just-”

“Shut up”

He falls silent, not wanting to ruin anything further.

“You’re not a fuck up” You say, annoyed that he could even think that, “Don’t let your mistakes fucking define you, Rafe. We’ve talked about this. You’ve fucked up, yes. But who hasn’t?” You pause so that the words can sink in, “Sarah has fucked up, I’ve fucked up. Your own dad has fucked up before... I didn’t break up with you because of your mistakes”

He looks at you confused.

“I’ve broken up with you because I couldn’t bear to see you kill yourself any further while everyone fucking stared and did a whole bunch of nothing” Tears swell up in your arms, “And that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve taken your mind off your drugs to just think about what you can lose with them”

You sniffle and look away, not wanting him to see you cry.

“It was my selfish way to make you wake up, want to try and get help-” You say with your voice shaking, but he interrupts you.

“Hey” He says, “It wasn’t selfish”

“I-”

“No, you’re going to hear me, now” He interrupts, “How can you say that what you did was selfish when you were trying to help me? That makes no sense! I’m not getting help yet, but if that’s what you want me to do, I’ll call my dad right fucking now and I’ll go to a clinic tomorrow”

“Rafe” You start, turning back to look at him.

“I know I’m supposed to do this for myself and not anyone else, but fuck. I’ve been dating you for years. I love you more than I’ll ever love myself. I can’t lose you. Not over something that I did”

A sob escapes your mouth and you cover it with your hand. Rafe, with that, pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around you.

“Just please, give me another chance” He whispers into your hair, “This time, I’ll get all the help I need. I won’t ever push you away, or put anything before me and you”

You wrap your arms tightly around his torso and sniffle into his chest.

“Okay” You whisper, “But you have to promise me that you’ll get the help as soon as possible”

You look up at him, still hugging him, and he looks down at you.

“I promise”

A faint smiles is drawn over your lips and Rafe presses a kiss onto your wet cheek, pulling you back into the tight hug.

“I’ll call my dad tomorrow” He whispers.

“And I’ll be there with you” You whisper back.

- - - - - - -

I honestly almost cried while correcting this. Am I the only one?

[starglow-xx]

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada & port mafia (part 1)

platonic! edogawa ranpo x f! reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting these fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them! but only at the cost of your peace and sanity. 

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

author’s notes: this will be a multiple part series of head canons and this is only part one! this series will include both the agency and port mafia members, and then something special for the end. maybe i’ll even write a real one shot/scenario for it. if there’s enough interest, i might open up a tag list for this! i hope you all enjoy!! <33

also, ranpo is 25 in this part; kenji, atushi, kyouka, and the tanizaki siblings aren’t part of the agency yet, only yosano, kunikida, and dazai are, but in the next couple parts, it will be established that the tanizakis are

and (n/n) means nickname :)

meeting the greatest detective

your bakery, Sakura’s, which you named after your late grandmother (who was also your guardian), went into business when you were 18 right after graduating high school

who needed a culinary course when you were trained by dear ol grandma?

your grandmother died when you were 16, just as you started your second year of high school

you were devastated of course, but you knew she wouldn’t want you to wallow over it too long

so in those last two hard years of high school, you took part time jobs at other bakeries and saved lots and lots of money

by graduation, using your life savings, the money your grandmother had left for you, and all the money you earned working, you were able to buy the small building—with a reasonable amount of money left over to survive— you and your grandmother had been eyeing back in her hometown, yokohama, to start your bakery

the building was a bit run down, but you were planning to give it a makeover anyways

it was a bit smaller compared to other buildings around, only having two stories, but on the plus side, the second floor had taller ceilings and was an apartment

is that realistic? probably not but bare with me here 

aNYWHO

you finished putting your bakery up in about 4 months, then finished up your apartment 2 more after

you opened Sakura’s at 7 in the morning then closed at 8 in the evening

when you first started, you did quite well!!

especially with those who went to work on early mornings and families

the time when you first opened was the most peaceful, but you admitted that it was a bit boring, and you wished for a bit more excitement

and boy, the day edogawa ranpo stepped into your bakery was the catalyst for the chaos and excitement that was soon to come

not that you knew that

if you did you would’ve never let him in

maybe

you were 19 when ranpo discovered Sakura’s, and it was completely accidental

he finished solving a case and was on the way back to the agency, and he—not surprisingly—got lost and then it started to rain really hard

it was pouring; there was even the cliche thunder strike and everything

you saw the brown clad man across the street and you ran out with two umbrellas (almost getting hit by a car mind you) handed one to him and practically dragged him inside

with the heavy rain on the forecast, Sakura’s was empty, so you gently pushed him down on a chair and you rushed away to find towels

even though the two of you had umbrellas, the two of you were still soaked 

finding said towels, you quickly dried yourself the best you could then you draped your towel over your back and rushed over to give him his as well as a warm pastry and your special hot honey lemon tea

ranpo laughed as you placed down the refreshment and snack, thinking that you knew who he was and was giving him special treatment

poor bby blinked and went :0 when you said you didn’t

“you don’t know who i am?”

“no. am i supposed to?”

“...”

the 25 year old blanked and you worried that you broke him and started to apologize profusely 

he cut you off claiming that he got over it he didnt but seeing as the bakery was empty and it was pouring pretty badly, he demanded you give him all your attention sit with him so he could tell you all about himself and what he’s done

the two of you got along quite well

you were amazed with all the stories he’s told you 

you honestly acted like a cute little kid listening to fairytales

he told you that and in response you threw a napkin at him

“wow ranpo-san! that’s amazing!!”

“you look like a little kid”

cue the napkin

he was happy with all the attention, praise, and sweets you gave him

the agency gave him praise sure, and made sure he had a lot of snacks but it was refreshing to have someone give him this much and your treats were the best he’s ever had

after he told you all his most interesting cases, the two of you just rambled about the most randomest things; going from the best desserts and snacks to the stupidest things his coworkers have done

you guys were on that last topic for a while

you two talked and rambled for hours, and when it hit hour two and the rain was still pouring, you just went ahead and slipped the “we’re open” sign to “closed” even though it was only 2 o’clock

you thought that this was probably the loving goofy older brother relationship that you missed out on

“ranpo-san, you’re kind of like the brother i’ve never had”

“and you’re still like that little kid”

cue another napkin to the face

don’t worry, he already adores you <3 

he just likes to make fun of you </3

*cuts you off as you’re talking to squish your cheeks* “(y/n) you still have a lot of baby fat and you’re pretty short...are you sure you’re still not in high school or smth??”

*incoherent talking due to pressure on cheeks* “ranpo-san you have 3 seconds before i kick you out”

at around 6, the rain came to a stop and by then, the both of you were all dried up

before he left, you gave him a map so that he hopefully wouldn’t get lost again and gave him a couple boxes of treats for him to have and to share with his coworkers

you closed early so you had to give away at least some of the remaining treats somehow

he wanted you to go to agency with him so he didn’t have to carry everything but you declined saying that you didn’t want to bc you wanted to rest

and for payback for calling you a little kid

you were 19 goddamnit

you already placed everything neatly into two bags so it was easy to carry but this bitch still had the audacity to pout and whine at you

and he calls you the little kid, jeez

you never told him but, you almost gave in

you never told him. but he probably already knows

ranpo san knows all after all; even you knew that by now

the two of you had also exchanged phone numbers and when the two of you showed each other what you each put for a contact name along with the note below, the two of you broke out into grins

you named him “the greatest detective <33″ & put the note “new nii-san <33 & bully </3″ and he named you “cute bakery girl” with the note “best follower, sweets supply & annoying little kid”

when he left, you properly closed the bakery and taped a sign to the door saying that you closed early for personal reasons

when everything was cleaned up, you marched up into your bedroom, plopped on your bed, and took a nap

you deserved it

at the agency not too long after that, ranpo had arrived and when he opened the door, everyone rushed towards him in concern asking if he was okay

he waved them off and walked towards his desk and plopped down in his seat

he placed the two bags in front of him and took out a box of cream puffs and started to snack on them

his coworkers watched him blankly as his scarfed down one after another

after finishing that box, he rummaged through the bags to look through the different kinds of pastries you’ve given him 

noticing that there were people still staring at him he paused before sighing in exasperation

he began to whine at his coworkers saying that no one told him it was gonna rain and that they were lucky that he happened to be in front of Sakura’s

“why did no one tell me?! it was pouring and i was soaked! you guys are lucky that (n/n)-chan’s bakery was right there! you would’ve probably lost me! how would the agency even function without me here?!”

no one wanted to be the one to tell him that they had no idea who he was talking about and that they did in fact tell him that it was gonna pour

they can save that, and their questions for another time

next >>

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[writesowhatnext]

does it ever drive you crazy? // george weasley

Summary: lovers // you didn’t know when exactly it got hard to be friends with george weasley

Request: nee

A/N: so this is the last part!!!!! Very much hope you like and much thank to Erica ( @ickle-ronniekins ) for being excited about this bc if she wasn’t, I almost definitely wouldn’t have written this ALSO ok but scepticism is such a weird word

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: swearing

enemies // friends // lovers // epilogue

It didn’t take a genius to know where Hermione would be, you thought as you searched around the library for her huddled figure. You grinned as you approached her, the book in your hand heavy as you got closer. She smiled when she saw you, watching you with curiosity as you dragged the chair opposite her out and sat down.

She looked at you expectantly as you pulled out the book from behind your back and presented it to her.

“A first edition Moby Dick?” she whispered; her eyes glued to the cover. “How on Earth-“

“My parents. It’s for you.”

Her head shot up so fast you would’ve thought she got whiplash.

“I couldn’t accept-“ she said quickly. “Why?”

“I heard you decked Malfoy last year,” you said with a smirk, leaning your chin on your hand, pleased to see her so happy about your gift.

“Oh.”

“I just wanted to support any efforts you had to repeat the incident.”

She grinned widely, looking back at the book in her hands, hugging it to her chest slightly.

“Thank you-“

“Don’t mention it, Granger,” you insisted, shooting her a smile before turning to leave, only to be interrupted by George, who was crouching behind the bookshelf next to you.

“Why are you being so nice?” he asked gruffly, frowning. “You’re never nice; isn’t it against some super-secret Slytherin code to be nice?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you stared at him.

“Perhaps,” you said. “But, I’m nice to you.”

“Right,” he snorted, tilting his head to the side before looking behind you for something, or someone. “Sure, you are.”

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “I could be if I wanted to be… I just don’t want to be.”

“Now, that’s a lie.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, raising your eyebrows as he stared past you. “I think that not telling Pince that you’re pulling a prank in the library is quite nice of me.”

His wide eyes shot to yours in panic, not at all relieved by your smug expression. You didn’t say anything else as you left though, and as he watched you saunter out, he frowned. Had your lips always looked like that when you bit them? Why had he noticed?

“Ready, Georgie?” Fred asked, his eyebrows drawn downwards as he looked between your disappearing figure and George’s confused face.

“Yeah, yeah, course.”

After spending the day with them at Hogsmeade, you started spending more and more time with the Weasley twins. You were more surprised than anyone at how much you were enjoying yourself. The new year changed nothing and so, as sixth year rolled around, you found yourself on quite friendly terms with the idiots you’d actually come to enjoy being around, even when they had a tendency to ambush you in corridors.

“What you up to, Y/N?” George asked, scaring the shit out of you as you walked down the hallway. His presence at your side was looming and you tensed at the proximity. Fred appeared over your other shoulder, gifting you with matching shadows.

“Causing trouble?” Fred said conspiratorially.

“Could I ever with you two prats around?” you said, only just noticing their massive grins. “No doubt whatever you’re about to pull will backfire astronomically.”

“Y/N,” Fred gasped, placing his hand on his chest. “Ye of little faith! Do you not trust us?”

You hummed as they stopped outside the Great Hall which was seemingly always full nowadays with people trying to enter their names for the Triwizard Tournament.

“Not particularly, no,” you said, eyebrows raised.

“Oh!” George exclaimed, clapping his palm against his chest exactly as his brother had done. “Dear Y/N, you wound us with your scepticism!”

You shot him a dry look, frowning lightly at the way your stomach twisted as he grinned at you. You leant in the doorway as they rushed inside; their entrance met with a chorus of cheers. Watching them talk to Hermione, you let your head rest on the stone archway. They were such idiots, you thought as you regarded them, your eyes lingering on George’s face, animated as ever.

When they moved closer towards the goblet, you were caught off guard by Hermione’s pointed stare, a smirk playing on her lips. You frowned in confusion and she only shrugged; a very irritating, very knowing shrug. Annoyance coursed through you as she avoided your eyes and you were in half a mind to walk over to her before Fred and George were all but ejected from the cup’s perimeter, soaring backwards as grey hair sprouted all over their faces.

A laugh of disbelief escaped your lips and your hand flew to your mouth as they began to scrap on the floor, rolling around like children even though they looked more like OAPs than reckless tweens. You snorted at them, not at all aware of Hermione’s eyes on you, a curious smile on her lips.

The Triwizard Tournament was the talk of the school and despite the undeniable rush that gossip and competition provided, you found yourself avoiding the whole business entirely. You didn’t know Cedric Diggory too well and you didn’t care all that much for Krum or Fleur Delacour; Harry was another matter, though, and whilst you cared about whether he lived or died, you didn’t think you’d be having sleepovers anytime soon. 

And so, you just kept to your studies. Regardless of how crass it sounded, life still went on and whilst the champions were battling dragons, you still had essays to write and tests to revise for. With that said, you did enjoy destroying those stupid badges that had swept through Hogwarts like the plague.

In your spare time, you found great joy in hitting them mercilessly with your quidditch bat, pummelling them until they turned black and stopped with that ridiculous “Potter stinks” slogan. Sure, magic would’ve done the trick, but it was nowhere near as much fun. You were on your fourteenth badge when a presence behind you startled you.

“What’re you doing?” George asked, his tone curious as he stood next to you with his arms crossed.

“Target practice,” you said, not pausing to chat as you threw another badge in the air and sent it slamming into the stone wall opposite.

George didn’t say anything for a moment; he just watched you with a small smile.

“You know, your heart isn’t as ice-cold as you want people to believe,” he said slowly, frowning as he examined your features.

“Is that right?” you asked, your voice deliberately devoid of emotion. “Anything more you’d like to tell me about myself?”

You could feel his eyes on you as you spoke and you cursed the part of your brain that wanted so desperately to blush under the weight of his stare. You swallowed, adjusting your grip on the bat. You could’ve sworn that he didn’t have this effect on you the day before, but your mind wandered back to the strange incident in the hallway outside of Snape’s class and you missed the badge you’d just pitched yourself.

Things with George had gotten weird. You couldn’t place when exactly, but the easy banter you’d developed hardened and you found yourself avoiding him more often than not. It wasn’t easy, though, given the fact that you were supposed to be friends and given the fact that you looked for him around corners, almost disappointed when he wasn’t there. 

On some occasions, it was much harder to avoid him than others and despite how much you’d have liked to, you could hardly move when they sat opposite you in silent revision. That would just be rude. You ignored them for a while, acutely aware of their presence when George started muttering to Fred, his voice growing louder and louder.

“Oi, pea-brain,” you hissed, clicking your fingers to get their attention, a strange feeling climbing up your spine as George’s eyes fell on you. “Shut up.”

Fred rocked his head from side to side, imitating you and earning himself a hard kick in the shin under the table.

They managed silence for a whole nine minutes before Fred started poking you with his quill.

“Psst,” he said loudly, prodding you with his finger this time. “Hey-“

“What?” you snapped, scowling at Fred’s pleased grin, not unaware of George’s gaze also on you.

“Did you see the first task?”

“Of course, I did,” you said, returning back to your parchment.

“And?” he pressed, leaning forward.

“And, what?”

“What did you think?”

You paused, looking up from your paper to meet Fred’s eyes. You’d known him well enough long enough to notice when he was up to something. You glanced at George to see if he had the same devilish glint only to see him looking down, though it was obvious he wasn’t doing much with his stationary quill. With your eyebrows drawn down, you looked back at Fred, watching as he raised his eyebrows pointedly.

“Cedric was great, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, I suppose…”

You leant back slightly, confused as to why Fred was pushing the topic so much. Then, though, you realised. It was the way George’s brow furrowed at Cedric’s name that sparked your interest and as you glanced back at Fred, you raised an eyebrow. Was George jealous? Fred nodded.

“He was brilliant, actually,” you said conversationally, rolling your shoulders back. “The transfiguration of the rock into that dog? Quite ingenious to distract the dragon like that.”

“Anyone can do transfiguration,” George muttered under his breath.

A smile quirked at the corner of your lips as you turned to Fred, only growing as he made an upwards motion with his hands, urging you to amp it up a bit.

“And Krum’s conjunctivitis curse? Sort of brilliant for such a meat-head…”

“Sort of brilliant,” George scoffed, shaking his head as his grip on his quill tightened. You considered your interest piqued as you watching him closely this time, gauging his reaction.

“And, well, Harry’s always been an excellent flier, hasn’t he?”

As George rolled his eyes, you snickered, looking to Fred in disbelief.

“George, are you jealous?”

His head shot up quickly as his wide eyes met yours. “Me? What?” he spluttered unconvincingly. “Why would I be jealous?”

His question, to his credit, stumped you. Why would he be jealous? You supposed that an attention seeker like him would love the fame of being a Triwizard champion, but Fred and George still managed to be the names on everyone’s lips with their betting service. It had to be that, though, right? There was no other reason why he’d be jealous.

“No reason,” you said shortly, turning back to your essay.

This time they managed seventeen minutes in silence before George started asking Fred about Potions, a subject Fred knew very little about given his partner was Angelina Johnson. To say he was distracted in those lessons would be a gross understatement.

“I don’t know, mate,” Fred said apologetically, frowning when George groaned. You told yourself not to, but the words were already spilling out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop yourself.

“I can help,” you offered, sealing your mouth shut. When you did you get so bloody helpful?

“Really?” George said, his eyes so earnest a lump formed in your throat. You could only nod.

“Brilliant,” he grinned, sliding over his parchment. “What the bloody hell does this mean?”

For all his faults, George, you had to admit, was smarter than he looked.

“So, you add horned slugs if-“ he cut himself off when Seamus Finnigan sat down next to him, immediately and easily drawing his attention away from his work. You couldn’t contain your eyeroll and you didn’t try to.

“Those Beauxbatons girls…” Seamus mused, shaking his head. “They’re grand, aren’t they?”

“I’ll say,” George agreed, lighting up. “There was this one the other day that me and Fred bumped into and blimey she was-“

“Maybe she could help you with potions,” you said, your tone more venomous than intended as you leant back. You recognised the prangs of jealousy in your gut and clenched your jaw at the feeling.

“Are you jealous?” George asked, barely able to fight the smile on his lips.

“Am I-“ you rushed, tutting. “Of course, not. Why would I be jealous?”

George narrowed his eyes but left well enough alone when Seamus once again garnered his attention and you were left asking yourself the same question over and over again. Why would you be jealous? 

You didn’t have an answer when Hermione stalked over to you in the corridor with a determined look on her face and an armful of textbooks.

“You like George,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You hoped it wasn’t.

“I’ve been accused of many things, Granger,” you said, walking away as she followed. “But never something as awful as that.”

She scoffed, much to your dismay.

“Right, but I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

You swallowed. “With contempt and thinly veiled hatred?” you suggested, though your tone was far from credible.

“Like you’re in love.”

That, of all the things she could have said, very quickly broke your composure.

“Give off, Hermione,” you said harshly, partially thankful for being able to so honestly and full-heartedly deny something.

“Fine, fine, alright,” she said, raising her eyebrows as you stopped before a staircase. “But at least admit you like him.”

“Maybe I like like him,” you replied childishly, trying unsuccessfully to avoid thinking about it.

She shot you a dry look.

“We both know you do,” she said matter-of-factly, disappearing back the way you came and leaving you to stew on her words as you stomped up the staircase.

You couldn’t like George, right? He was George. He was stupid and irritating and reckless and the year before you’d hated his guts. Things couldn’t change that fast, could they? Could they?

What you didn’t know was that George had been asking himself the same thing.

“Shut up, Fred, I do not-“

“Right, sure. You definitely do not fancy Y/N. Gotcha!”

“I’m serious, Freddie,” George said lowly, throwing a scrunched-up ball of paper at his brother across the Gryffindor common room.

“So am I, Georgie,” Fred said, sitting up. “Anyone with half a brain-cell could tell you’re mad for her.”

“Mad for who?” Harry asked, strolling through the portrait hole with Ron hot on his heels.

“Y/N,” Fred replied, smiling at George’s sigh.

“Oh, right,” Harry said, sitting in one of the armchairs.

“What the bloody hell do you mean ‘Oh, right’?” George said, his tone exasperated.

“Well, it’s kind of obvious,” Ron said, shrugging. “You guys hated each other a few months ago and now you’re making googly eyes at each other all the bloody time.”

“Oh, piss off, Ron,” George groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “You don’t know anything about girls.”

“Oi!”

“He’s right though,” Fred insisted, kicking at George with his foot. “Why do you think you were so jealous when she was chatting about Cedric and Krum?”

George, as a rule, hated it when Fred was right. He hated it even more when Ron was right and so, as he walked down to the dungeon to find you, he was not in love with the whole situation. It was annoying, really, that they thought they knew so much. It was more annoying that they did know so much. Even a broken clock, though, he figured, was right twice a day. 

As he slipped through the Slytherin common room charms, he was taken aback by the memory of him doing exactly the same thing not two years ago and a strange feeling clenched at his chest.

Seeing George Weasley in your common room was never a good sign, and as you noticed him by the doors, you knew that he would have to leave very soon before he got hexed or worse, before Malfoy started to talk to him.

“Oi, Y/N,” he said, finally spotting you as you walked towards him, already fully aware of his presence.

“George,” you replied, nervousness brewing inside your stomach. It was the first time you’d been alone with him in a very long time.

“Do you-“ he began, swallowing as he looked down at you. Your words lodged in your throat at the serious look in his eyes. “Do you fancy going to the Yule Ball, by any chance?”

You raised your eyebrows, your eavesdropping audience long forgotten as you stared at him.

“With me?” he added, frowning.

“With you?” you repeated, trying to ignore the echo of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Yes.”

You both stared at each other for a moment.

“Are you asking me out?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Your mouth twitched at his uneasy tone, finding his nerves quite endearing.

“Alright.” You said, nodding, a small smile growing on your lips.

“Yeah?” he asked, his whole face lighting up in surprise.

“Yeah,” you repeated, biting your lip as you grinned at him.

“Brilliant,” he breathed, his cheeks hurting as he beamed. His confidence seemed to flood back to him as he looked at you again, standing taller than he had been. “I mean, we could just skip the ball and just make-“

“Don’t push it, Weasley,” you said, raising an eyebrow. You wetted your lips, fully aware of his eyes on them. He glanced up to meet your gaze, pleased to see the same mischievous twinkle he knew so well.

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[square-blunt]

I love my friends, they make me feel alive again, or at least they remind me that I'm not even dead

I am kicking and screaming i must put this one and another Esmp fic out before tomorrow and I am very Nyoom rn so I'm sorry if this one isn't as good, I really liked the way it turned out so here have some clingyduo fluff bc yeah I can writing things that aren't angst?? What? no one dies and their best friend holds them in their arms this time?? fuckin crazy. /lh

TW- Abandonment anxiety, ptsd WC: 2530 words Ao3: :3

It was Tubbo's birthday today. Tommy had been planning something for weeks- grinding, mining, stealing, going through ax after ax getting wood. He even asked Foolish for some help, and after those weeks, he had finally built a perfect replica of the L'manberg bee house. It wasn't in L'manberg, of course, but Tommy was sure Tubbo wouldn't care.

He didn't fill the basement with wolves, but he did get two or three bees in there- he named them. Beeinnit, Ranbee, and Tubbee. Tubbo and his two best friends, but bee form. Tommy was still Tubbo's best friend, right? He knew that Ranboo was more than a friend to Tubbo, the two were married, Ranboo couldn't technically hold both titles, and Ranboo was too dumb- he needs to stop blaming Ranboo. Sitting in the bee dome, planting a few last flowers- cornflowers, poppies, sunflowers, and white tulips, Tommy realizes that he needs to stop blaming Ranboo. He needs to. Because Ranboo was a good… enderguy. And he was good for Tubbo. He had asked Tubbo if Ranboo made him happy- Tubbo nodded, and that was good enough for him. He needs to stop blaming Ranboo, and start looking at himself. Because if he and Tubbo aren't talking as much, of course, he's gonna find someone else to talk to. And he's learning to not blame himself for everything, he does blame Dream for that, but this isn't Ranboo's fault and it isn't Tubbo's. And Tommy knows that he and Tubbo are still gonna be friends. It's been him and Tubbo since the beginning, that's what he said before fighting Dream. And Tommy knows that he and Tubbo will have each other's back. He's just overthinking this, but he is still gonna try and give Tubbo everything he wants or needs. And try to give him the world that he deserves. He's gonna try and make the world a better place for him. And a bee dome is a nice, easy start. It was more tedious than anything- thank prime for Eret stealing the blueprints before Doomsday. They had the plans for every building ever created- they let Tommy have the one for the bee dome. They even brought over the bee that would become Tubbee. Tommy… wanted to forgive Eret. And he would. Eventually. Tommy kind of did that before going off to fight Dream- Eret was the last person he talked to. And Eret looked so relieved when Tommy said that he thought they were the true king. They had been there for him and Tubbo. That was good enough for him. He did think that Tubbo, Ranboo, and Eret, even, were his best friends. He knew that Puffy was his friend, and her griefing his house was just some friendly pranks, and he enjoyed having something to do. Shit was getting too buddy-buddy around here. Wilbur… he wanted to be Wilbur's friend- brother. He wanted the Wilbur who started L'manberg, he wanted the Wilbur who would sit down and play a song. He knew that Wilbur was still there. Somewhere. He stops to touch the petal of a cornflower next to him. Blue and yellow are on opposite ends of the color wheel, but they mean the same thing to Tommy. He loves, and misses, his best friends. They make him a better person. He doesn't have to be the bad guy.

Tommy shields his face, the sun setting and glaring into his eyes through a window. It's almost night, shit. He had put enough lanterns and shroomlights in the dome that mobs wouldn't spawn, but he wasn't so sure about outside. There was some pathing, courtesy of Foolish, and there was some light around, but he wasn't sure. Because mobs weren't the only thing that darkness hid.

Tubbo whispers to you: I'm here boss man

Tommy smiles. He had asked Tubbo to meet him at the community house, after his birthday party in the mansion- Tommy had left early to put the flowers in and told tubbo to meet him there whenever he was ready.

/msg Tubbo: k I gotta do one last thing

/msg Tubbo: be there in a sec

He's almost happier it's night, it'll look a lot cooler from a distance. He plants one more cornflower next to a hive. He brushes his hands off on his pants, and then brushes his pants off, and checks his reflection in the window. It wasn't too far of a run back to the community house, the dome was just to the side of Eret's castle.

"Tubbzo!" Tommy runs up behind his friend, who, unfortunately, had his back turned.

"Tommy!! You scared the shit out of me, fuck you-" Tubbo said, Tommy laughing.

"You fucking jumped, like, 30 feet in the air," Tommy says, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Fuck you," Tubbo repeats, lightly hitting Tommy in the arm, beginning to giggle as well.

"Come on, I spent so fucking long on this so you'd better like it," Tommy says, beginning to drag Tubbo out by his forearm.

"Yeah, is Ranboo already there?" Tubbo says, walking at pace with the other.

"What? I haven't seen Ranboo since the party." Tommy says, a pit in his stomach opening up.

"Huh, he said he was going to go help you with my birthday gift. You never saw him at all?" Tubbo says, voice laced with worry.

"No, was he going anywhere before coming to me? And- and I never told him where this was- only Foolish knew. So I don't even know how he'd find me." Tommy says, his grip loosening on Tubbo's forearm so he could pull away if he wanted. Tubbo didn't.

"No, he did that weird thing though, he calls me Tubbo and talks to me like you or Foolish would." Tubbo walks a little closer to Tommy.

"What's off about that?"

"Ranboo usually calls me beloved or snow angel, and he'd talk to me like a husband would, yknow?"

"He calls you 'snow angel?'" Tommy screws up his nose.

"Oh, piss off," Tubbo smiles a little.

"But still, we can look for him on our way? Unless you wanna look for him now, the be-irthday gift can wait."

"A beirthday gift, you say?" Tubbo says, smiling.

"Oh, piss off," Tommy mimics Tubbo, "but seriously, if you wanna look for him we can." Tommy stops and turns to face Tubbo, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"No, no, it's- you made it, whatever it is, I'm sure he's fine, and I'm sure he'd want me to go ahead," Tubbo says, looking up and smiling slightly.

"If you're sure. Because fucking Prime, this shit took so fucking long and I had to practically beg Foolish to help…" Tommy continues to talk to Tubbo, trying to distract him from his currently missing husband. Eventually, the moon high in the clouds, they get to the start of the path.

"There's no way you did this." Tubbo laughs.

"I didn't- Foolish did the path but I built the actual thing," Tommy says, letting go of Tubbo's arm, "I'll race you!" and off he sprints.

"NO FAIR YOU KNOW WHERE IT IS!" Tubbo laughs from behind him.

"BYE-BYE BEE- boy-" Tommy skids to a stop, not long after rounding a corner of trees. He can see flames, high over the tree line, the light eating away and the surrounding stars, in the back of his mind he hears explosions- there aren't any explosions, Tommy, it's just a forest fire, there isn't any TNT, there isn't any TNT-

"Oh, is that… supposed to be on fire-" Tubbo stops next to him, Tubbo's hand on Tommy's forearm this time.

"No- no it-" Tommy straightens up, and he catches a glimpse of someone running away- a figure behind the trees, he blinks, and it's gone-

"Tommy?" Tubbo turns to look where Tommy was looking- where the figure was just moments before.

"N- nothing- Tubbo get- get behind me-" Tubbo's grip tightens on Tommy's arm as he pulls Drista's dagger out of his inventory, holding it in his other hand. Together, they creep up the path, until what's left of the bee house comes into view. It’s engulfed in flames, and all of Tommy’s hard work is being eaten away before his eyes. Tommy curses, puts the dagger away, and pulls out his water bucket.

"You've got-" Tommy motions at the bucket

"Yeah- and c'mere," Tubbo says, pulling on Tommy’s arm, throwing a fire res pot up. Tubbo lets go of Tommy’s arm as the shield washes over them, Tommy's skin feeling tingly. Together, they manage to put out the fire and put out a few trees that had caught before it spread anywhere else. They end in the dome, the roof all but gone, one of five beehives on the top floor remain.

"Oh, Tommy-" Tubbo begins to say, sadness heavy in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I spent fucking ages on it. Can't have shit- the gods must hate-" Tommy begins bitterly, collecting the last of the water, and putting it back in his hot bar. At least before his knees buckle under an unanticipated pile of weight. He hears Tubbo laughing from right behind him- he jumped on Tommy’s back, “Fuckin- Get off of me-” Tommy laughs, too. He doesn't mean anything by it, there's no malicious tone to anything he says to Tubbo- and Tubbo's one of the few people who actually understand that.

"I know exactly what this is-" Tubbo says, standing straight, a hand on his hip.

"What it was supposed to be." Tommy, out of habit, mirrors Tubbo. "See, why can't we have nice things? Fuckin, everyone else gets cool buildings and kingdoms and shit why the fuck can't we have a bee dome in the middle of the woods- what, why are you laughing" Tommy gestures vaguely at the rubble before raising a quizzical eyebrow at Tubbo's silent giggles.

"What it was supposed to bee," Tubbo says, cackling, and Tommy groans.

"Augh Tubbo, now is not the time-" Tommy rolls his eyes

"It was never meant to bee-" Tubbo laughs harder, clutching his stomach, leaning on Tommy for support. Tommy finds himself laughing a little bit,

"Ok, yeah, that was a good one- you wanna bee a hero, Tommy?" Tommy mimics Techno in a high-pitched voice- sending Tubbo into hysterics.

"We- We-hehehe- We would rather die than give into you and joi- join your SMBee-" Tubbo says between fits of laughter, making Tommy bark out a wheeze, "That was- was beeasier than I thought-"

"My unfinished symphobee-"

"TOMMY-"

"You can't control who lives who dies who-"

"-tells your storbee?"

"Yeah-hahaha! F- for Tommy to bee exiled-"

"That was so fucking stupid why'd I do that-" Tubbo shakes his head, his laughter subsiding.

"Because that's what you thought was best, you had no way of knowing what he was gonna- what he was gonna do to me-" Tommy says, the tone becoming solemnly serious.

"-If I had known I never would have done it, I would have told Dream to shove it up his ass, you know that right?" Tubbo says, reaching for Tommy's hand.

"Of course. We're best friends, I know you'd never do that to me." Tommy squeezes his hand. Tubbo lets out a breath, and he looks like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders. As much as he feels guilty admitting it, Tommy's glad Tubbo's been worrying about that. It means that he cares.

"Should he go in there and see what we can rebuild?" Tubbo says, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"If any, but- the bees!" Tommy breaks into a sprint, tugging Tubbo along with him with a yelp.

"Bees?" Tubbo easily gets his footing as they fly down the stairs, and all of Tommy's breath leaves in a sigh of relief. He can see three balls of yellow and black in a patch of flowers.

"Oh, thank prime," Tommy says.

"Oh, the flowers are L'manburg colors!" Tubbo reaches down to pick a poppy.

"Yeah… I tried to think of as many things as possible because I know how much L'manberg meant to you-" Tommy flails his arms out- Tubbo launching himself at Tommy- into a familiar hug, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

"It's fine, Tommy," Tubbo says, his voice bright- and Tommy becomes coldly aware of a memory- the last time Tubbo had roughly tangled him into a hug.

What am I without you?

Yourself?

"Tommy?" Tubbo's pulled back, a- at this point- very familiar concern on his face.

"I'm alright- just, bad memories. I'll be alright-" Tommy shakes his head, pulling Tubbo back into the hug.

"Are you sure? We can stop for a second- sit and talk?" Tubbo says softly from Tommy's shoulder.

"No- not on your birthday, I promise- I promise I'll be alright, this is nothing I haven't done- we haven't done before," Tommy says back, tucking his head into Tubbo's shoulder, trying to chase the pit in his stomach away.

"You sure?" Tommy can feel Tubbo's hand smooth down his hair. Tommy just hmms in response. "Do you think they- the bee's are asleep?"

"What do you mean?" Tommy looks up, he can't see the bees, but he doesn't want to leave the hug.

"The smoke, you think it put them to sleep?" Tubbo muses.

"Maybe," Tommy mutters. "Fuckin- I spent days on this." it was more of an inconvenience than anything at this point. "Do you wanna rebuild it?"

"Not right now, I'm tired, boss man." Tubbo sighs. Tommy realizes how tired he is, too, the familiar ache in his bones.

"Me too, Tubbzo, me too. Let's go home?" He says, making no move to back out of the hug. Tubbo just hums. And so they stand there, until they figure out they can shuffle together- at least to the stairs. Tommy laughs at the image this must make. Two boys, one half-cow, one half-dead, who would rather tear up the ground and trample flowers than break their hug. By the time they do eventually get to the stairs, they both are laughing. Tommy notices that he laughs a lot more whenever he's with Tubbo. He also notices he gets tired a lot quicker. Puffy would say something about Tommy feeling safe around Tubbo, enough so that he shows emotion and lets his guard down, but Tommy knows that. He yawns, he is actually really tired. Tubbo yawns too, and they help each other up the stairs and out of what's left of glass and wood. About halfway down the path, Tommy stops and looks over his shoulder, at the space between trees, where he saw-

"Whacha lookin at, big man?" Tubbo asks from beside him.

"Nothing- I thought I saw someone running away from the fire when we first got here- I think maybe they were the one that did it, but I didn't catch their face." Tommy says, half lying. It was true, he didn't catch their face, but he'd know those two glowing eyes anywhere. He knew who it was. No way he was gonna tell Tubbo about it.

Because he was almost sure it was Ranboo.

[kill-the-feels]

Me again! I just love your writing and idk if I can request two if not it’s ok just ignore this, but can you write one for either Kix or Rex where there’s a lot I mean A LOT of tension between them x reader. They lowkey like each other but won’t even think about doing anything about it bc of regulations/rules. All other clones know and they always tease them. Maybe they do something to get them to confess both their feelings to one another? Maybe some angst and fluff and slow burn? Thank you sooo much

First, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this!! I adore this prompt and it was so fun to write!! (Also, I hope you won’t mind, but I picked Kix! ;) )

warnings: description of injuries, blood mention, angst, some language, a little, tiny bit of steam

word count: ~1.5k

~~~

You suppose it starts out as little touches. Lingering glances and glancing brushes that feel like heavy blows in their aftermath.

It’s the way you swear Kix has a speck of dirt on his shoulder, right below the lurid red medic symbol. The way your hand lingers there for just half a beat too long, cupping the plastoid armor.

Or the way he moves around you, with his hand coming up to rest on your hip just long enough to move past, in a way that would annoy you to hell if it were anyone but him.

Perhaps it’s the way you high five him one day, after he regales you with the story of finally getting the infamous Captain Rex to get some rest. You intend the gesture to be be funny, but then you make contact with his hand and then the two of you just sort of… pause there, fingers splayed out against each other.

Totally normal way of high fiving someone.

It might even be in the way he sits just slightly too close, so that his hand accidentally grazes your thigh when he moves it from his lap to the table.

Once is an accident, twice is suspicious, but five times?

That can’t be a coincidence.

It graduates from there, as all things do. Little touches become longer, excused as necessary even though you both know everyone sees through your shit.

Maybe it’s when Fives walks in on you two sleeping, your head on Kix’s shoulder and his head resting on yours.

He teases Kix so hard, you want to cringe into the floor, even as Kix explains you both just “fell asleep.” Fives rolls his eyes as he leaves.

“Yeah, and I’m blind,” he mutters giving you in particular a knowing look.

Or maybe it’s when you fall and hit your head, not hard enough to cause permanent damage, but hard enough that Kix insists you let him check it out.

You sit in the medbay and watch him move around. If there’s just a bit more urgency in his step, neither of you comment on it. He clicks on a little light.

“Follow this with only your eyes,” he says. Maybe you hit your head a little harder than you thought, because you move your head after the light two different times.

Frustrated, he takes hold of your chin, keeping your head in place with one hand and moving the light with the other.

“Your eyes,” he says slowly, enunciating each word in a way that leaves you focusing on his lips.

“Eyes,” you hear yourself echo faintly.

He leans in while he studies your pupils, titling your face up just slightly. Makes sense, you reason, seeing as you’re sitting down and he’s standing over you.

“Gross, Kix, not in the medbay!” It’s his brother Jesse, making fake gagging noises. Kix jumps and lets go of you like he’s been burned.

“We’re not together.” He says it easily enough, but you don’t miss the glance back over his shoulder.

The longing that’s getting harder and harder to deny.

Were it not for rules, you two would be together in a heartbeat, the tiny part of your heart, the one you spend day after day arguing with, says.

The two of you are more subtle after that. Never alone together, always keeping busy so you don’t have to think about what you can’t have.

And it’s fine, really.

Except when you brush imaginary dirt off his shoulder, or when he brushes past you, or when you high five him, or when he sits just slightly too close, you feel like you’re being burned alive.

As it happens, you two finally reach a breaking point when you, well, quite literally, butt heads.

He’s on his back in the medbay, trying to fix one of the droids. You’re sitting on one of the exam tables above him, talking about senseless things to pass the time, when Kix goes rigid.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“You okay down there?” He’s silent and you slide off the table, squinting into the shadows cast by the droid.

“‘M fine,” he says, voice sharp. It’s a sure sign he’s in pain. You peer closer, noting the way he’s clutching his hand to his chest. Blood is oozing out slowly, over his fingers.  

“Kix!” you say with an undignified yelp of fear. You try and tug him out, and he shrugs you off.

“It’s fine.” Stubborn man.

“Liar,” you say, kneeling over him at the same time he goes to get up.

It’s like watching a disaster happen in slow motion. Your brain knows what’s happening and tries to tell you to move, and you do. But it’s towards Kix’s rising big skull instead of away.

He stand up into you, and you feel more than hear the crunch in your nose.

The taste and smell of blood is instantaneous. You fall to the floor beside him with a groan, hands coming up to cup your poor nose. Kix is on you in a flash, trying to do damage control, but his hand is still bleeding, and it’s making even more of a big mess.

So there you two are, on the floor, moaning in pain, covered in blood. Not your finest moment.

Someone clears their throat, and you two pause in your fumbling attempts to stem the bleeding.

“Kix, I don’t care what you do in your own time. But this is not the place to explore your weirder tastes.” It’s the Captain himself, perhaps the worst person to catch you two like this.

“No, that’s not-”

“He’s not-”

The two of you are talking over each other, and Captain Rex just laughs, leaving you two to suffer in a bloody heap on the floor. Kix extricates himself first, finding bandages with his good hand.

He wraps them around his injured hand, then ties it off with his teeth, a move that almost distracts you from the blinding pain in your face.

Almost.

“Shit, Kix, I think you broke my nose,” you say with another moan. He’s back beside you in an instant, gently prying your hands off.

“Let me look, and I’ll tell you,” he says, after you slam your hand back onto your nose, only to cry out in pain. Not very smart of you.

Kix takes your hands again, placing them to the side and wiping away some of the blood. Your nose is tender to the touch. Carefully, he probes the sides of your nose and you wince.

“Sorry,” he says. There’s a lingering softness in his tone, the same kind of softness you’ve noted in his touches.

“It’s okay,” you say quietly. He looks down at you, and you don’t even think about the way he’s still holding your nose.

Instead, you’re caught on his eyes.

He has kind eyes, you decide, the kind that invite you in and make you feel important. Safe. Cared for.

“I, uh, I don’t think it’s broken,” he says. “Just bruised.” Even as he speaks, his hands drift away from your nose, and his eyes move down to your lips.

“Kix,” you say, intending it to come out as a warning. Instead, it’s breathy and needy, and you find yourself arching up to meet him even as he leans down.

Your first kiss is not euphoric, like you would hope. Instead, it’s an experimental peck against your lips and then an accidental knock against your nose, which has you cringing backwards.

But. You have come to expect something like this from you two. So when Kix pulls back in horror at the thought of hurting you further, you’re prepared.

You wind your arms around his neck, tugging him back to you. He comes willingly, caressing your face as he slants his lips across yours.

This time, you would put your kiss safely in the “euphoric” category. It’s like you can finally breath after all this time spent holding your breath. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck while you kiss him, and he hums softly, cradling you to his chest. You sigh into him. No more stealing glances and barely-there touches.

“No, we can’t,” Kix says, voice hoarse as he pulls away abruptly, shattering your dream. You want to cry. Everyone already thinks you’re together, so why can’t it be the truth?

“I know,” you say instead, for him, even as the two of you lean in for another kiss. Kix cups your face this time, thumb stroking your skin as you kiss, and you realize it’s because you actually are crying.

“Cyar’ika,” he murmurs against your lips. You wrap your arms around his chest, tugging him down on top of you.

“I know,” you say again. “Just for a little bit.”

And for just a little bit, he lets you dream. You don’t care that the two of you are a mess, or that anyone could walk in. For now, you have more than lingering touches and glances. You have a promise that down the line, after all is said and done, he’ll pick you.

You have Kix, and that’s enough.

[mallowstep]

(Leopard AU with Reed AU) Reedpaw blinks when Featherpaw comes to him and apologizes, telling him that she's sorry that Mistyfoot picked her over Reedpaw when Leopardstar rescued them and took them to Thunderclan.

Reedpaw shakes his head, and nuzzles his sister. "Feather," he meows softly. "I was safe. You weren't. If I'd had to make the decision for us, I'd have picked you over myself too. You weren't safe here. Tigerstar and Shadowclan didn't know I was Mistyfoot's kit. To be honest, I think they thought I was one of Skyheart's."

Featherpaw blinks at him, eyes wide and she whimpers. "But Reed...he could have killed you..."

"But he didn't. I'm still here--we're both still here. He failed. We're going to be okay, Feather. Let's go try that hawk Greystripe caught you and Stormpaw. I'll go rip off it's feathers for your nest."

oooh i love this so much.

y'know of course she feels guilty. she didn't know if he was alive or dead or worse than dead. and he looks alive and whole but -- that's not the same as being okay.

they all feel guilty, don't they.

(The three of them sit by the river.

"Anyone want to bet on what our names will be?" Stormpaw asks, his tail flicking lazily.

Featherpaw snorts. "I've got loads of options. Hope she's creative about it."

Stormpaw flicks his ear. "Nah, she'll name you -- Featherheart, probably."

Featherpaw sighs. "I don't..." She shakes her head slightly. "Bet she names him Reedheart."

"I didn't do anything," he says. "Besides, we don't know what Leopardstar names cats like." He licks his paw, dragging it behind his ear. Mistyfoot would never let him forget it if he showed up to his own warrior ceremony ungroomed. "If it was Crookedstar, then it'd be easy. Stormfur, Featherpelt, and Reed..."

"Reedfoot," Stormpaw supplies. "No, he'd do Stormfur, Featherfoot, and Reedpelt."

Featherpaw snorts, and then giggles. Reedpaw purrs. It's nice to hear her laugh -- nice to just be around them again. "Well, I bet Firestar would name us..." She pauses. "I'm not sure, actually."

"He'd name you Featherheart," Stormpaw insists. "No question."

Reedpaw puts his head on his paws. He can't speculate on what Firestar would name them. Featherpaw catches his eye. "I'm glad we're all here, together," she says.

Reedpaw purrs.)

(He's still surprised that Leopardstar named Stormpaw Stormheart. But she had given him a tiny nod when she lifted her muzzle off his head, and Reedwhisker had decided to ask him about it as soon as their vigil ended.

"I feel okay," Feathertail whispers, flicking her tail impatiently.

Mistyfoot still looks worried, and she licks Feathertail's shoulder. "Sit between them, then, and if it gets colder--"

"She'll be fine," Stonefur calls. "Stop encouraging her to break vigil."

Feathertail's ears fold softly, and she sits next to Reedwhisker, beckoning Stormheart with her tail. They're supposed to sit at different places in camp, but even if Feathertail looks unimaginably better than when she left RiverClan, Reedwhisker knows she's still in recovery. He wraps his tail around her, watching the way the moonlight distorts on the river.

Reedwhisker thinks she falls asleep at some point, her head on his shoulder, but he doesn't wake her. She'll yell at him in the morning, but her breathing slows, and Stormheart licks her head, nodding at Reedwhisker. Best to let her sleep.

When the sun rises, Feathertail turns her face into his pelt, blinking blearily.

"Your vigil is over, you know," Stonefur says. "As soon as the sun hits the horizon. You better make sure Mistyfoot didn't assign you to any patrols."

He nudges them all gently, pushing them towards their den.

"Go get some sleep." He touches his nose to Feathertail's shoulder. "Proper sleep, that is."

"I was awake all night," she says, but her voice is still heavy from sleep, and Stonefur just purrs.)

and you know. i don't know. i think i just wanted to write siblings being together. whoops.

(They all have nightmares. It would feel like the set up to a joke, if they all have nightmares didn't mean Reedwhisker seeing blind panic in Mistyfoot's eyes, or Feathertail cowering in her own den, or Stormheart barely sleeping as he looks over the rest of them, making sure everyone is accounted for.

He's not really sure what his look like. He knows what they feel like, but he's pretty sure he's gotten good at shoving down his reactions. Waking Tawnypaw because he missed his mother would have gotten him killed. Now, he thinks he just doesn't want to disrupt anyone else's sleep.

Still, he finds Mistyfoot wrapping her tail around him, purring like he was a kit. He doesn't ask, but she still answers his question. "i'm your mother. Of course I know.")

hm. it appears i've swung to fluff bc i keep trying to do angst and i just. i don't know. appeal. i was writing the mistystar kills bramblestar during the "sexy slow" part of the playlist (it's called sexy because it's got songs like "take me to church" and "nfwmb" but specifically i was listening to "river" by bishop briggs), and now i'm in the "sad slow" part, but it's like. shrike by hozier. a song that makes me cry really easily but isn't that sad.

("I'm sorry," Reedwhisker says, dipping his head towards Feathertail. They haven't talked about it for a moon, but Leopardstar is kitting and Mistyfoot and Stonefur are with her and all he can think is, "If Tigerstar knew I was Mistyfoot's kit, he never would have treated you like that."

Feathertail scowls. "He would have just treated us both terribly, Reed. It wasn't like it was all that much better when Stonefur and Stormpaw were with us."

But they both know that's a lie.

"I'm still sorry," he says.)

there we go that's some proper angst. thank you "all of my goodness is gone with you now," which is The Line, of course, but -- it's such a good line. there are a lot of good lines, really. the whole song is good lines.

anyway.

(The kits leave Leopardstar's den. She watches them anxiously, and Stonefur sits next to her.

Feathertail looks excited to see them, crouching in front of them and purring. Mistyfoot is watching Mudfur's den. He won't leave it, Reedwhisker doesn't think, because he barely does. Shadepelt visits him daily, but Reedwhisker can't bring himself to ask his previous mentor why.

"Frogkit, no!" Leopardstar cries, bolting forward. She grabs him by his scruff. "You can get closer to the water when you're older."

Stonefur pads forward slowly, giving Leopardstar space, but staying close to her side.

"He wasn't that close," she says softly, as Frogkit rejoins his siblings. "That was -- unnecessary."

"They don't know how to swim yet," Stonefur says. "Keeping them away from the river is reasonable."

Leopardstar makes a sound between a cry and a whimper. Too late, Reedwhisker realizes how private a moment he's witnessing.

"Do you want to take them back in?" Stonefur asks.

"I--" Leopardstar pauses. "We only just left."

"And I'm sure they're already tired." Stonefur watches Leopardstar carefully. His posture is soft and open, and Leopardstar brushes her tail against his.

"Let's go back," she says.

"Alright.")

there we go now i just got through the Sad Sad part of my playlist. i don't know how long i've been writing. or how many words. i just. anon you really got to me. you made me feel and think and This is the end result of that.

hm. let's shoot for something fairly happy to end.

(Stormheart wades in the water. Feathertail is helping teach Leopardstar's kits to swim. "I'll teach you too," she said, giggling, but Stormheart turned her down.

Reedwhisker stands with him now.

"It's strange," he says, "because when I'm in the water, it feels familiar. But as soon as I--"

Stormheart huffs in frustration. "I don't know. I'm a RiverClan warrior. This is supposed to be easy."

"Well, it's not," Reedwhisker says. "So, it's not. That's all there is to it."

Stormheart flicks his tail in frustration.

"Okay," Reedwhisker continues, "what's stopping you, then?"

"I can't--" Stormheart takes a shaky breath. "I keep thinking about -- slipping. That's why Featherpaw got caught. Because I slipped and Greystripe had to save me. And then I found Stonefur and..." He shake his head. "I just can't."

"So you don't," Reedwhisker says. "You don't need to swim to fish. And you can still jump out of camp, it's been a dry newleaf. So you don't, and we try again when you can."

Stormheart sighs, and Reedwhisker presses his temple against his brother's.

"Frankly," Reedwhisker says, "I'm not terribly keen on the river either."

Different reasons, same result.)

well. that's the best you're getting for an ending. good night everyone, this anon made me feel a lot of things.

<3

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Interrogation

15/06/2020: Sooo, hi there. Me and @marshmallow--3​ were talking (once again) and we got to talking about how assassins would react while being interrogated. Naturally, I like my dark fics + my hurt/comfort fics, so this came out. It’s an experiment than unashamedly spans 4.5K words, but I enjoyed writing it and after a bit of convincing I decided to post it. I worked surprisingly hard on this. I also like putting my characters through their paces. This can also be considered as an ‘asshole writing 101′ course for me bc everyone knows I need it lmao. Okay, enough justification; just... here -- have Jacob needing a lot of hugs :) heed the warnings, friends -- you have been warned. Spoilers for the fic in the warnings, btw

Feedback is greatly appreciated :D

Also, mainly GN!Reader (apart from the first scene) :)

Italics are thoughts bt-dubs.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, beaten for information, abduction, sick mention, PTSD mention, Night terrors, naked mention (sfw we good)... Yeah I got a bit carried away here :3 (if I missed any please lmk)

----------

“Jacob, we need that intel.”

“Why does it have to be me? I prefer to have my weapons on my person, if you don’t mind.” Jacob was sitting at the desk everyone was talking around, feet crossed on the desk.

“Maybe it’s because it’s a Gentleman’s Club, and women don’t necessarily fit in; if they find a single blade on you, the entire mission is compromised.” Evie looked pointedly at her brother. 

He looked to you for help, but you held your hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me; she’s got a point.”

Sighing, he rose to his feet, leaning against the wood and drumming his fingers against it. “Fine. Who am I tailing again?”

----------

“Weapons, please.” Evie stopped him before he could go anywhere.

“What weapons?” He smiled innocently at his sister, while you scoffed amusedly from behind her. 

She said nothing, and instead held her hand out expectantly. Obstinately, Jacob relented, pulling out his cane sword and giving her his thigh holster. “All of them.” 

His kukri came out of his waistcoat.

“All. Of. Them.”

His gauntlet was reluctantly confiscated. As was his revolver.

Evie raised an eyebrow. “Alright, fine!” He reached into his boot and pulled out another knife. “How did you know?”

“I saw you hide it.”

When they were finished, you walked up to him. “Be back by tonight. Alright?” You kissed him softly. He broke apart and gave you a reassuring smile. “You’ll barely notice I’m gone.” As the train came to a stop, you watched as he blended into the crowd at the station, disappearing in the blink of an eye. 

----------

The courier Jacob was supposed to tail wasn’t too hard to find. Bowler hat, stocky build, weird scar on his cheek… All he had to do was get close enough to hear the password, get in and get out. 

But first, he had to follow him there. In unfamiliar territory. No gangs, no Rooks.

Jacob left his top hat on the train, opting for using his hood as an added source of anonymity as he stalked his target. The streets were busy, and he lost eyes on the man’s bowler hat once or twice, but all in all, it was going smoothly. They were halfway down a street when the target crossed the road and went into an alleyway, sparse of people. 

Jacob looked both ways before crossing after him, walking through as naturally as possible, in case he runs into people he would rather avoid. The road took him into a clearing blocked in by buildings, but not a man in sight. His brows furrowed, confused at where his target could have gone. Looking around, he saw that there was only one exit, and that was behind him. There was no way the target could have circled back around without him noticing.

“Wait a second…” 

There were multiple small clicks, before multiple people came out of nowhere, all pointing firearms at him. Jacob raised his hands in surrender, taking small, calculated steps backwards. “Let’s just take it easy for a moment; I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.”

“Our boss wants you alive. I couldn’t really care. It’s best if you cooperate, Mr Frye; I’m thinking you’ll put up less of a fight dead.” The hammer was pulled down with a resounding ‘click’ for good measure. The more Jacob observed, the more Templar crosses he could find. 

Oh, for the love of--

Before he could react, two feet came into contact with the back of his knees, and he was forced face down to the ground. His shoulders were pinned as his arms were forced behind his back. He blindly managed to hit someone with his elbow, but it never released any pressure as he felt thick rope cinch around his wrist and knotted tightly, lest he manage to break free of them. “Are you certain we can’t come to some sort of agreement?” His words came out half mumbled, as his face was pushed against the mud.

All too suddenly he was pulled back up to his knees, a very gruff sounding “Get up,” mumbled in his ear. The one seemingly in charge of this whole operation stood in front of him. Sounds of an approaching carriage came closer. Assessing the distance between the two, Jacob smirked. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m spoken for.” 

The man standing over him didn’t react. “Do it,” he said to the people holding him. 

Jacob’s jaw was prised open before a rag was forced in, a bag coming over his head a moment after. He was pulled roughly to his feet and couldn’t get a stable footing before a force threw him backwards, landing on the floor of the carriage with his hands trapped under him. A noise escaped his throat. Jacob could only hope to use his sense of hearing as he shuffled backwards to lean against the door behind him, as multiple people entered the carriage and shut the door -- to supervise, no doubt. The wall was hit two times, and the horses began to trot.  

The journey was the only time he could hope to escape; who knows how they’d be keeping him once they arrived.

He couldn’t help cursing himself under his breath, but it was only comprehended as a random noise to the others in the cab. Jacob began to wiggle his fingers, digits searching the wall behind him for something sharp, like a nail or some splintered wood. His fidgeting must have been noticed, because someone lightly kicked his leg. “Don’t even think about it.” He felt something cold press against his temple, a click sounding in his left ear. He held an involuntary breath as light chuckles rippled around the carriage.

“Forgive me for not finding this funny…” he quipped inwardly.

The gun barrel mockingly shoved Jacob’s head to the side, a silent threat, before withdrawing. 

He had a three mile long argument to have with Evie after this.

He tried to swallow, pushing down the rising anxiety in his throat. Is there a way out of this that wouldn’t end with a bullet in his brain?

There must be.

His fists clench and unclench restlessly as he thinks. Or, tries to think.

All he could decipher was the carriage turning right, pressing him against the wall behind him, before stopping. There was a long moment of waiting, before the door he was leaning against opened. He fell to the ground, the air knocked out of him. Without giving him a moment to collect himself, hands grabbed his arms and pulled. His orientation was in shambles; he couldn’t figure out which way was where. 

There were momentary pauses as doors opened, and just as he had begun to breathe properly, he was shoved. His balance was thrown off, and wood bit into him as he rolled down an incline. He hit the floor ungracefully, half haphazardly dragging a knee up; he was pushed down some stairs. Stifled groans were muted by his gag as they yanked him up again, pushing him down onto a chair. Multiple people tightly bound his ankles to the legs and his wrists between the rungs, the pressure pinning him down causing his heart to skip a beat. 

He hated this feeling of restriction; of being exposed. He knew he had no control. He knew he was fucked.

His head began to throb, no doubt an injury from his tirade with the stairs. As the people around him left, he tested his bonds. There was no give whatsoever; the rope bound his wrists to the rungs behind him, pulling his shoulders taut. He tried lifting his leg; he could bounce them, but that was it. It was instinct; the restless energy needing a bigger outlet. His anxiety was palpable, and he found himself exhaling through his nose multiple times in an attempt to calm himself down. He tried to look around through the material over his head, increasingly desperate, though he knew his chances of escaping were low now that they had him exactly where they wanted him. He briefly wondered whether he’d ever see natural daylight again. 

… Shit.

He had no idea where he was; if he got out, then what? He’d have to cross that bridge when he comes to it.

If he comes to it.

Resigning himself to wait, he sat straight, challenging his bonds every now and then, hoping that the next time would be different.

It didn’t take too much longer for the door to open again, but the fear inside him was painful, squeezing his heart in an iron fist. He strained his ears, and heard multiple light footsteps, followed by a distinct pair of slow and heavy ones. They screamed authority as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

The bag was pulled harshly from his head, light blinding him as he squinted, trying to acquaint himself with the area around him. Jacob tried to swallow his anxiety as he took in the newcomer’s appearance; easily over six foot, and built of pure muscle. 

Bloody hell.

Someone came up to him and pulled the gag out of his mouth. He tried re-introducing saliva as the man came closer, his small entourage disbanding around the room behind him. 

“If this was so urgent, couldn’t you have booked a bloody appointment?” 

The man chuckled, though there was no humour in his tone. He rubbed his wrist before he swung at Jacob’s cheek, whipping his head to the side.

His jaw was seized and pulled to lock eyes with the six foot tall interrogator. “I won’t stand for that; understand?” His voice was low and rumbled maliciously. Jacob glared at him defiantly, heart pounding in his ears. He responded by spitting blood in his face. The man recoiled violently, wiping the substance out of his eyes. Jacob exhaled amusedly through his nose. 

Once the man recovered, he chuckled again. “Cute.” He walked over to Jacob, bending down to his eye level as he rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s start with an easy one; what’s your name?”

“Ethan.” He was met with a punch to the gut. 

“I forgot to tell you; these first few questions? I know the answers to them. I know when you’re giving me bullshit.” He grasped his hair and harshly pulled. “Let’s try again; your name.”

He said nothing and was considering lying again, until the man gave another rough tug, threatening to yank his hair right out of his scalp. “Jacob.” He relented through gritted teeth, seething in frustration. His hair was released.

“Nice to interrogate you, Jacob.” The man took a step back and leaned on a table a few feet away. “I’m the Boss around here. See how easy things are when you cooperate?”

The assassin rolled his eyes. 

“Now, I was told that you were, as you put it, ‘spoken for’.”

Jacob raised an unimpressed brow as he tried to hide the hitch in his breath.

“Who is it? A woman? A man?” Jacob left his expression unchanged. “I don’t judge!” The ‘Boss’ raised his hands. “I bet I can guess their name: Henry, Evie… Y/N, perhaps?” Jacob raised his chin and clenched his jaw, an involuntary defensive move as he listed his closest friend, his sister, and his lover all at once. 

“You see,” the Boss sighed, pushing himself off the table. “Even if you don’t say anything, you’re just as good to us as bait. If you speak now, you could be saving everyone a headache. Just remember that.

“Now; why were you tailing that courier?”

----------

The session ended with a condescending backhand. “We’ll pick this up again later.”

Jacob smiled mockingly. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

Once he was finally alone, his defiant front dropped, and he allowed himself to feel the pain in his torso. He groaned as he shifted in his seat, his ribs aching from the inside. He knew he wouldn’t give them any information, no matter how hard they tried to extract it. He instinctively tried to hold his side, but to no avail. His tongue ran over the cut on his lip, busted open time and again. 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been; hours or days. But he’s tired, thirsty, and in pain. He can barely keep his eyes open, but his anxiety has kept him awake; an insomnia he could never quite shake. He was too tired to expend any of it physically; it was brewing inside him like a bad cup of tea. He couldn’t stop thinking about the threat of you, Evie, and even Henry. Even so, unless he could be sure his information would be able to counteract that, he kept it to himself.

His chin rested on his chest, and he was on the verge of passing out when the door opened again, causing him to jump and tense at the sudden loud noise. “Sorry I’m late; this is the only time I could slip in.” 

The Boss took in Jacob’s tired eyes. “Did I wake you? Such a shame.” He laughed at his own quip. 

“It’s fine; my schedule was open.” Jacob tried to bite back.

“Seeing as you weren’t doing so well answering our earlier questions, I decided to start on some different ones, this time.” 

Jacob furrowed his brows. “What makes you think that I’d tell you anything?” 

The Boss revealed items he was hiding behind his back. “Are you thirsty?” 

Jacob tried to smirk at the jug and glasses, though it wasn't as wide as before. “Kind of you to offer.”

The Boss poured out all the water into a few glasses. “You can have as much as you want; just tell me what I want to know; what have you learnt about our current… agenda? Any heists being planned that we need to know about?”

There’s a few moments of silence, before Jacob spoke, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “We’ve decided to go on holiday for a few weeks, actually.” 

The Boss huffed humorlessly. He grabbed a glass of water and brought it near to Jacob, before chucking it over his face. Trying not to react, Jacob only flinched. The liquid made the cuts on his face twinge. “That’s for lying.” Discarded on the table sat a pair of brass knuckles, spiked and gnarly. He picked them up, sliding them over his fingers before clenching a fist to test his comfort. 

“I’m going to ask you this one more time…”

----------

“You’re going to be here for a long time, Frye. Get comfortable.”

Not likely.

The last words spoken to him felt like hours ago. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, his body forcing him to sleep by shutting down. Slumped forwards in his chair, his arms were the only thing holding him upright. His shoulders were numb. He tested his bonds again, as if they would magically loosen after all this time. Fingers stretching, he tried to get blood black in his hands. He rotated his wrists, wincing as the rope pinched his raw skin. His leg began to jump of its own accord once he was faced with his own hopelessness again. 

How long would they keep him alive for? How long until help comes? They must have realised that he was missing by now, right? 

He heaved unsteady breaths out of his lungs; keeping his composure was becoming increasingly difficult, and he was looking at the increased likelihood of coming face to face with his own mortality a lot sooner than he would have liked. 

The only reason why he hadn’t starved was because of someone who came to feed and water him once a day, though he can barely stomach solids. “It will get easier if you tell them the truth.” They kept saying the same things over and over again. 

“Stop it.” Jacob didn’t want to hear any more; his mind was conflicted -- whose side were they on?

“Just tell them what they want to hear; it will make it so much better for you.” 

Jacob clenched his jaw and remained silent. 

“Otherwise, they’ll keep beating you.” They prodded Jacob’s ribs, and he squeezed his eyes shut in pain, refusing to make a sound. They took off his coat a while ago, exposing his body for more beatings. “Food for thought,” they said as they left him in silence once again.

The only other time he would get contact with another human being is when they’d take him out of the room for a bathroom break; they’d undo the rope before rebinding his hands in front of him immediately, dragging him to the bathroom before he’s forced back into the same chair again, waiting for the cycle to repeat.

The familiar tell of nausea was growing, and his stomach had stopped holding down the food he’d been given. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. 

----------

He was awoken by a series of noises that blended into each other, incomprehensible from the next. 

The door opened, and the Boss walked down the stairs, a serious expression on his face. “You have visitors, Jacob.” A fist came into contact with his gut, and for the first time his pain was vocalised. Though still stifled, the noise was noticeable. “It’s a shame, really. We were getting somewhere with you. Hopefully those allies of yours won’t be as stubborn.” 

He grabbed a cloth and balled it up, being met with almost no resistance as it was pressed into Jacob’s mouth. “Not a sound.” He crossed the room at pace, unsheathing a knife as he closed and locked the door behind him. 

The aftershocks of the assault on his gut still had him wincing, but as he heard gunshots and cries above him, he began to panic.

People he cared about could die, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

With every bang that erupted above him, his heart rate increased. He tried to weakly pull at the ropes again, and made a hopeless noise through the fabric in his mouth as he got nowhere. He was frustrated, anxious, and scared. The future was completely out of his control. 

His body wouldn’t listen to his mind; it was slumped in the chair, all but exhausted. He couldn’t breathe. Fear clouded his mind, the adrenaline pushing him to his limits. It wasn’t until he tasted the salt in the gag that he realised that a few tears had escaped. He closed his eyes.

This wasn’t him. He needed to stay calm.

I’m not usually the praying type, but if anyone at all is up there, keep them safe…

Please…

“Please…” It sounded like a groan but he said it; he was never one to beg, but he’d do anything to know what the hell was going on up there.

Everything stopped when he heard it.

“Jacob?” 

He barely moved, his mind clouded, but his heart swelled in relief at the voice -- a relieved noise that became stifled in his throat. But then, he remembered what was said to him.

He was bait.

He flinched as the door was kicked down, fists weakly clenching behind him. Footsteps came down the stairs. 

 He heard someone kneel in front of him. “Jacob? Hey, it’s me.” His face was taken into gentle hands, and the fabric was taken out of his mouth. “Jesus… Can you open your eyes, Jacob?” Slowly, he did, eyes heavy with exhaustion. You were in front of him, visibly relieved at his responsiveness.

“No… Please, leave.” He tried to pull his face out of your hands.

“They’re dead, Jacob. We’re safe; you’re safe now.” 

The ropes around his wrists broke, and he gasped in pain as he fell forward into you, hands slowly coming up to grasp your arms. Evie had moved to Jacob’s ankles, quickly cutting his bonds. “We were given false intel from the beginning; it was always going to be a trap.”

You pulled back. “Can you walk?” 

Jacob nodded, the action dizzying him. You pulled his arm over your shoulders and pulled him to his feet, hissing in pain at the movement in his torso. You stood him up, but he began to crumple almost immediately. Evie half caught him, copying your movements. 

Slowly but surely, he was brought out into the open. It was overcast and miserable outside (not the greeting he was expecting). His vision swam with flecks of green. How you managed to bring Rooks out here, he didn’t know. 

Gang members helped him into a carriage that was parked out in front, and you followed, helping him onto the seat. You lowered him down so he was lying on his back, his head in your lap. “How did you find me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s a long story.” You pushed his hair out of his eyes, observing his wounds in worry. “I’m so sorry we didn’t come sooner.”

Jacob smiled softly and grasped your hand, rocking with the gentle movement of the carriage. “You came; that’s what matters.”

The soothing motion of your thumb over the back of his hand finally convinced his brain to shut down, engulfing him in the comfort of sleep.

----------

He was back in the cellar. Except this time, he wasn’t alone. There was someone across from him, he couldn’t tell who it was, but they were familiar. And they were screaming. There was no way for him to get them to stop, even as he began to beg, to plead, to volunteer information if they would just stop hurting them…

He startled himself awake, gasping. His eyes were open and alert, with his skin covered in a sheet of sweat. 

He wasn’t in a cellar; he was in a bed. 

Deep breaths, just take deep breaths. Everything is fine...

He tried to sit up, but before he moved an inch a pained gasp left his lips. He clutched at his torso, as if holding it would stop the pain. Once it began to subside, he lifted the sheet off of his body. He was shirtless, and he was wearing clean breeches. He raised an eyebrow, but that was low on his list of priorities. Instead, he saw green, blue, and purple bruises saturating his skin. Bandages were wrapped tightly around his chest, no doubt securing a few broken ribs. He threw his legs over the side of the pain, pausing at the fresh wave of pain washing over his body. His eyes were closed as the door opened somewhere, causing him to jump slightly. “Jacob, you’re awake!” 

He looked up and smiled when he saw you come towards him. “How long was I asleep?” 

“Over a day. Um, did you call for me, just now?” You heard him scream for you, most likely in his sleep.

“No, why?” He furrowed his brows as he watched your expression.

You decided to not pry, and instead let him tell you of his own accord, whenever that may be. “No reason; I must have been hearing things. Listen, you need to rest for a bit longer. You’ve taken a lot of damage.”

“Nonsense; I’m fine now.” He went to stand up, but sat back down as his world began to spin. “I’m not staying here… wherever we are.”

“We’re in Lambeth Asylum. We took you straight to Florence Nightingale.”

“Where’s Evie?”

“I finally got her to rest; she hasn’t been able to sleep at all since…”

“Sounds like her.”

“What happened, Jacob? When you didn’t come back that night, I thought you went to the pub or something, but you still weren’t back by the next day. How did you end up outside London?”

“Haven’t the foggiest. One moment, I was following a man in a bowler hat, and the next I was ambushed by about fifty Templars.” Your lips quirked at the exaggeration. 

“I was so worried, Jacob. They almost killed you.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than fisticuffs to take me out.” 

You took his face in your hands. “While we’re here, you need a bath.”

“And here I thought you were going to be romantic.”

“Aha. Cute.”

The word echoed in Jacob’s mind as you prepared the hot water. Absently, his hand ran over his bandages, replaying the memories in his mind. 

“Jacob!” 

“Huh?” He didn’t realise he was staring off into space until you looked at him with concern. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes, fine.” 

You went over to him and helped him up, supporting him over to the tub. “Get in.” 

“If you wanted to--”

“Don’t finish that sentence; we’ve seen each other naked enough times.” 

He chuckled, undressed and slowly sat in the warm water, with help from you. “What about the bandages?”

“I’ll replace them afterwards; they’re there to keep your ribs in place.”

As Jacob washed his lower half, albeit slowly, you got a clean rag and dipped it in the water before turning his face towards you. You wiped the grime away from the open wounds on his forehead and lip. “Ow.” He didn’t flinch, but he still voiced his pain in a deadpanned tone. 

“Sincerest apologies,” you teased, for a moment it was silent, with Jacob watching you intently, before he nudged your hand away, leaning in to kiss you. It was a kiss he never thought he’d give you so soon; the ‘I-thought-I’d-never-see-you-again’ kiss. You broke apart, knowing exactly what he was feeling. “It’s alright now,” you reassured, swapping the rag for hair oils. He returned the smile you gave him, allowing himself to breathe.

You poured water over his head as you tilted it back, shielding his face from the liquid. Then, you massaged his scalp, watching as he slowly became more relaxed. 

“What do I have to do to get this more often?” he murmured softly.

“Just ask,” you laughed. 

“What do I have to do... to do this for you?” You washed out the suds in his hair, sweeping it back. 

“Again, ask -- wait until you’ve healed though.”

“If I must.” 

----------

On the outside, Jacob was healing fine. 

On the inside, scarring was plentiful. 

He was back on the train after a few weeks, glad to be somewhere he could call home. Though his mind always seemed to be somewhere else. 

Walking around the carriages, he was mostly doing desk work; Evie’s way to keep him off the streets until his body was healed. 

Night terrors frequently plagued him. He’d bring you into his arms at the end of the day, but as he fell further into his subconscious, he began to heave out frightened breaths. You would sometimes wake up when it was at its height, but other times his cries for help, his begs and pleads and calls of your name as he startles, would sit you up straight. You’d wake him up as gently as you could, waiting patiently for him to realise where he was and who you were, the fright slowly dissipating. 

“It’s okay, it’s alright.” You’d hold him as tightly as he held you, as if you’d never hold each other again. “You’re safe; I’m safe. We’re okay.” These were the only times Jacob revealed just how hard the recent event had hit him, preferring to lock it away and pretending it wasn’t there instead of facing it for what it is.

Slowly, he’d recover.

Slowly, he’d heal.

Slowly, everything will return to normal.

[milkacchan]

More omega Izuku and Alpha reader?? Yeah. Absolutely.

Listen theres NSFW here too okay??? Along w the fluff bc I'm a sucker for omega Izuku

I'd also like to point out that alpha reader is female, however, I made it kinda gn so you can still read it.

You started at the trash bin. What was in the bin more like. The white stick- you knew it well. Bakugou had had his fair share of pregnancy scares and he always came to you with them. Not that he didn't trust his Alpha because he did- he just- that was something you go to your friends for first.

And Izuku had left early this morning, rushed out- earlier than usual, giving a quick goodbye kiss that left you confused.

You weren't confused anymore.

You pulled it out, looking intensely at it. Two lines, two pink lines side by side. Izuku was pregnant.

You weren't really sure what to think. You hadn't mated him yet, fuck you hadn't even asked in fear he'd say no. He was an unmarked omega, the amount of shit he was going to get for this was something you didnt want to think of. You were mad at yourself- unsure of where it went wrong. Your alpha blockers must've failed. Or maybe his contraception. He wouldn't be able to work anymore- at least until he delivered the child.

The kid- oh fuck the kid. Half of you was so proud- so proud that'd you managed to fill him up with pups, you dreamed of a family. He did too. Just-just not this soon. The thought of Izuku getting rid of it, sent pangs through your chest. You knew he could- it was his body, you didn't have a say in the matter, you two weren't marked. He could choose to do whatever he wanted. You weren't kids anymore.

You set the test down, leaving the bathroom and picking up your phone. The first person you dialed? Katsuki.

It rang a few times- he was later than usual to pick up, picking up after 4 rings instead of two.

"What is it." His voice grumped from the other end.

"Izukus pregnant." You blurted, not wasting a moment.

"He's what?"

"Katsuki he's pregnant. I found the test in the trash this morning- I fucked up. I haven't even asked to mark him yet. We're not mated."

"Calm down," you could hear shuffling on his end, indistinct whispers. "I'm assuming you still haven't talked to him?'

"No, he's at work. He left early."

"Probably talking to Ochako and Tenya. Half n half is probably there too."

"I don't- I don't know what to do."

"Karma for giving me shit, asshole." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"I didn't give you that much shit." You chuckled slightly. "But I guess it was enough, wasn't it?"

"Seems that way."

You sighed, flopping onto the couch. "I should've realized. I've been so busy I hadn't even realized he'd missed heats. I thought it was just the suppressants. I mean- We're not ready for kids, not prepared. But I make a decent amount of money, so we could be."

"You do. You could be. You'd be a good parent. So would he. So talk to him about it when he gets home. Get him something nice- maybe take out, and sit down and talk."

"I suppose so. He's been craving chinese lately. Probably a product of what's been going on."

"I'd say so."

"Well thanks, sorry for interrupting cuddle time with Kirishima."

"No problem!" You could hear Kirishinas smile too.

"Bye guys."

Izuku groaned, dropping his head to shoutos table. "This is a mess."

"You have to tell her." Ochako urged.

"I know."

"Well- what do you intend on doing? Because it's not her choice." Tenya looked at his friend with concern. He'd known before Izuku did, it wasn't hard to tell.

"Well...if she'll stay with me, then I'll keep it. She always talks about wanting a family, wanting kids and settling down. But we're not mated yet, she hasn't even asked to mark me yet, who's to say she won't leave?"

"You've been together since first year. She's not going to leave you." Shouto looked look a sip of his drink. "She's infatuated with you and she talks so fondly about kids."

"She does, but we aren't prepared for a kid." Izuku rubbed his face. "I'm not against keeping it- at all. I'm just scared."

"It's okay to be scared, it's okay to be worried. But you have to go through it like anything else. It doesn't have to be fancy, it doesnt have to be romantic, you just need to tell her. And if you need a bed to crash on, we're all here for you." Ochako smiled, taking Izukus hand gently. "Okay?"

He nodded slightly. "Yeah.."

"And if you do decide to keep the baby, my brother has many parenting books that he'd have no problem letting you borrow. So you'd be better set."

"I still have an old crib that you can use too. It's from IKEA so it's pretty nice." Shoto grinned.

That's right, two of his friends had older siblings, both of which have kids. He wouldn't be alone, he'd be far from it.

"I don't have any of that- but I can sew! So I can make them blankets or something. Whatever would help."

"Stop," Izuku whined, "I'm gonna cry." He was already tearing up, his hormones were already kind of crazy. He wiped eyes.

"Don't cry! If you cry I'll cry!" Ochako sniffed.

Izuku laughed, squeezing her hand.

That night came quicker than you anticipated. Izuku sent you a text saying he was on the way home and you looked around. You'd straightened up, vacuumed and so on. His favorite blanket was sitting on the couch, along with the stuffed dog you won him on your first date.

The deliver guy for the take out should be here soon. You had the money set out already so you were good. You sighed, shakey and nervous- was there anything else that needed to be done? The test- the test. You walked into the bathroom and picked it up off the counter. You looked at it again. Still positive. What else would it be? They don't just change. You felt the realization hit you again and shook your head, tucking it softly in your pocket. You walked back out, just in time too. There was a knock on the door.

You picked up the money from the counter and opened the door, smiling at the boy standing opposite of you. You handed him the money and he handed you the two large bags. You thanked him and bid him farewell before closing the door.

Once you placed each bag on the coffee table, you sat down and waited. It felt like forever. Your heart raced and your mind was racing but finally, finally the door opened.

"I'm home!" He chirped, hanging his keys up by the door.

"Hi baby, good day?" You smiled, walking over to greet him. You kissed his forehead gently, eyes flickering to his stomach.

"Yeah, good day." He smiled, walking into the apartment. He paused. "What's all this?"

"Well- I know you've been craving chinese lately. So I got you some."

He smiled nervously. "That's sweet angel."

"Do you want some water? A drink?"

"Water, please."

"Alright, well you go sit down." He nodded slightly, shuffling over to the couch.

His blanket was there- he paled. you knew. You had to have known. The test- oh god the test, he'd left it in plain sight. He felt nauseous. It wasn't rare for you to display affection in large quantities. It wouldn't be the first time you'd surprised him with something. You were such a good alpha, you always had been.

"Zuku?"

"Hm?"

"You zoned out there, you okay?" You set the water down in front of him.

"Yeah, 'm okay." The blanket was on his lap now, he was fiddling the the seem, lightly tugging it.

You sat next to him, hesitating before speaking. "Baby..." you started. "I'll just- I'll get to the point." You reached into your back pocket, pulling out the white test. "I know. You left it in the bathroom."

"Shit I- I was going to tell you, I promise but I didn't know how so I went to Shotos to talk to them." His breathing started to get heavy, the air was twinged with a bitter scent that made you wrinkle your nose. "I don't want you to leave me." He whispered.

You immediately took him into your arms, kissing his head. "I'm not going to leave you baby, alright? Next step is we just talk about what we're going to do."

"If you'll stay- if you want to stay, I want to keep it. I want a family with you."

"Ultimately its your choice," you soothed, rubbing circles on his arm with your thumb. "But I want to stay with you. I know we're not ready now, we're not prepared but we can be. I make a decent income, we both do, I can provide for you and the baby. I'll make sure that we love comfortably and that you don't have to worry. I can provide for you. And I know you won't really be able to work until he's born, at least not the way you'd like so I'll try to help with that too."

"I know you will." He whispered.

"So we'll keep it?"

"Yeah, we'll keep it." He squeezed your hand.

"Izuku I know we've been together for a very long time. I love you more than anything. I was still trying to plan out how I was going to ask, but I want to mark you. I want to mate. I was just worried you'd say no." You gently kissed his cheek. "I want you to think about it for a couple of days first though, alright. I don't want you to rush into something just because we're having a kid."

"How long do I have to wait until I can say yes?"

"5 days. 5 days and if you say yes I'll mark up that pretty little neck of yours and you'll be all mine." You hummed.

He leaned into you, taking a deep breath. "So I was scared over nothing."

"Over telling me? Yeah. You were "

Bonus smut bc I'm horny

Izuku wasn't entirely sure what events lead to this- you your mouth licking hot strips up his dick and he really didnt care. He whined, jerking his hips.

"You're so wet baby, all for me." You hummed, taking your mouth away from his length. "And you smell so good, fuck-"

"Please-" he whimpered. "Alpha,"

"And you're already coming undone. I haven't even done anything serious yet." You smiled. "Baby do you want to fuck yourself on my face?"

"Yes," he breathed, "please,"

You hummed again, gripping his thighs. You held them apart. "You're so pretty Izuku." Your eyes flickered up to him. His face was flushed red and his eyes were glossy. You looked back in front of you. He was DRIPPING. His omega slit all pretty red. You kissed the top before poking your tongue in.

Izuku moaned, "w-Wait Alpha you said I- I want-"

"You will baby, you will. Be patient." You smiled, looking at his thighs. They were already covered in hickeys and bites. His thighs were so sensitive. You licked at him again, lapping over his heat and taking in his slick.

He tugs at a fist full of hair, bringing your mouth closer and you let him. You move his thighs so they sit over your shoulders and you let him move himself however he wants. Because the sounds he's making while he's doing it are so pretty. Breathy moans that turn into strangled whines, it enough to get you off for christ sake.

For Izuku, it's overwhelming but it feels so good he doesn't want to stop. He knows he's not in control, he rarely is. Theres been the occasional time where he'd take the lead and make his Alpha submit, but this was not one of those time. But you wanted to see him happy, Izuku knew this too, so he had no problem with fucking his cunt on your face. You seemed to be enjoying it too, the way your hand hand dipped into your own pants, stroking yourself with a steady rhythm.

"Fu-fuck-" he groaned out, he was close already. The way your fucking tongue moved around him, and in him, had him all sorts of ways. "I'm-" He didnt even get to say it, he moaned out, his thighs tightened around your head and he tugged at your hair as he came. He rolled his eyes back and topped the hand from your hair, he could still feel your tongue, working him through it and he shuddered.

He came back to reality with you kissing his cheeks. "You did so good baby," you preened.

"What-What about you?"

"I finished when you did," you hadn't, not really, but Izuku didn't need to know that. Tonight was about him. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. I'll run you a bath."

He nodded, lifting his arms up and sighing happily when you picked him up. "Can you join me?"

"Of course, Zuku. I'll even wash your hair for you."

He smiled gently and put his head on your shoulder.

God he loved you so much

[cakesunflower]

Empty [C.H. One Shot]

Summary: Calum and Stella don’t have anything left to fill up something so empty.

A/N: this is probs the shortest one shot i’ve ever written at like 4k words but i just wrote it in like an hour and a half bc i was bored and emo so i was like,,,,let’s make everyone else emo too. happy ((not really)) reading!!!

She’d forgotten what the gentle bumps and rhythmic sways of sleeping in a tour bus felt like. But Stella wasn’t sleeping; she was wide awake, staring at the ceiling that was actually the bottom of the bunk above hers, Luke’s quiet snores just barely audible over the soft hum of the bus engine. Stella was jealous of him, of all the boys for being in a deep slumber while she lay awake, reaching for her phone that was plugged into the wall, resting somewhere in her bunk. Once she found the device and held it over her face, Stella winced, eyes squinting against the bright screen, opening her eyes enough to check the time. 3:22 in the morning.

A huff of a breath escaped her. She needed to sleep but it was woefully eluding her, the weight on her chest making it difficult to even close her eyes. So quietly, Stella opened the drapes of the curtain, the dim light in the main area of the bus being the only source of light, and she put her legs over the bunk and sat up, hunched ever so slightly as to not hit her head on the top bunk. Her eyes looked at the bunk directly across from hers, rolling her lower lip into her mouth as she thought of the man sleeping behind the curtain. The man she was here for in the first place, yet sleeping in a completely different bunk from. Though it wasn’t because of a lack of space.

Sighing, Stella got out of the bunk, a shiver creeping up her spine as her bare feet touched the sleek floor of the bus, walking towards the main area as her gaze went towards the tinted windows. They were probably on a highway somewhere between Pittsburgh and New York, and given that they left around midnight, they should probably be arriving within the next couple of hours. Stella settled sideways on the couch, arm resting on the top of it as she gazed out the window, the occasional lone car driving by not too often.

Maybe it was because she hadn’t been on an actual tour bus in a while that kept her up. That’s what Stella kept telling herself, because it was better than what the other, slightly more probable, reasoning was: that she didn’t actually want to be there. That the narrow bunk was nothing compared to her memory foam mattress back home. Or that the occasionally clinking of bottles and dishes in the small kitchen because of the moving bus had Stella thinking, for a split second each time, that there was an earthquake.

But she reminded herself that she needed to be here. Even if she didn’t entirely want to be.

“What’re you doing up?”

Stella tensed, swallowing the dryness in her throat as she glanced over her shoulder to see Calum standing there, just a little feet ahead of the bunks, his voice hushed. She looked him over, dark eyes sunken in from sleep, hair too short to be messed up, and tattooed chest on display as he wore just his pajama bottoms. He looked adorable. Tired. Stella’s eyes stung with tears.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she answered softly, hoping if she blinked normally then the tears wouldn’t fall. “What about you?”

Selfishly, Stella hoped his reasoning was the same. Hoped he couldn’t stay asleep because she wasn’t in the same bunk as him. Hoped that he gave some kind of sign that this was just as hard, as tense, as it was for her.

Something flashed across his tired face. Something like guilt. Calum’s throat worked, hand raising to scratch at his other bicep. “I got up to go to the bathroom and saw your bunk was empty.”

Moments like these, Stella hated the truth. His words, honest and guilty, made the tears fight harder to fall. But Stella was nothing if not resilient, even if lately she felt like she was breaking.

Of course he hadn’t gotten up because he missed her presence. He probably hadn’t missed it for months. Why would tonight be any different?

“Oh.” It was a short and breathless sound, fighting to keep the disappointment from slipping in, as she turned to look back out the window. Her brown eyes swept over to Tony, the dedicated driver, before looking out the window one more.

Her teeth pressed together when she heard the soft click of the bathroom door shutting, feeling the knot in her chest tighten with every passing second. The bus was spacious, with a long couch and a round booth-like table to eat on while another dedicated solely for Michael’s gaming system. It was big, enough room for five people plus the driver up front, and yet Stella felt like she was being suffocated. Every inhale felt forced, and whatever air her lungs could gather was let go of reluctantly, and the desperation tightened Stella’s body, hoping this was only a feeling that would soon pass. Hoped that the strain constantly making itself known only wanted attention for now before disappearing altogether.

She closed her eyes, willing the tears away. Crying wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Moments later, Stella heard the bathroom door open, before Calum’s quiet rasp broke through the silence. “Come back to bed, Stel.”

Her gaze didn’t wander from the window. Even when she could feel Calum’s gaze on her back. Heavy and intense as usual. Her own voice was dropping to a whisper as she responded, “I will in a bit.”

There was a few seconds of silence, and just when Stella assumed Calum had returned to his bunk, he spoke up one more. “Come back to bed with me.”

His words shocked her and she hated that they did. Hated that a simple request from her boyfriend, a man she loved, had her feeling as though he confessed to loving her for the first time. But maybe that’s what happened when something was dying; the smallest spark of bringing it back to life jolted you like a shock of electricity. Even if it was alive only temporarily.

Stella looked at him, saw the mute plea in his dark, tired eyes. Was he tired because of the late hour? Or was he tired of her? She hated that it was something to wonder.

And yet she got up from the couch anyway, but her movements weren’t her own. Stella moved automatically, because she was supposed to. She felt Calum’s gaze on her as she approached his bunk, getting inside and under the covers as he joined her. It smelt like him, and Stella’s throat closed up. Her back was against the wall as Calum closed the drape, succumbing them into darkness, her eyes quickly adjusting as he settled with a soft sigh, legs grazing against hers as he got under the covers as well.

There was minimal space between them, yet it felt like he was miles away. Maybe he was. Maybe they should’ve stayed on their own sides.

But Calum pulled her in, his skin warm under Stella’s as she rested her cheek against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Her hand gingerly placed itself on his stomach, throat working at the feel of his steady heartbeat beneath her ear. It made the tears return and Stella squeezed her eyes shut, begging for them to go away. She’d cried enough. She didn’t dare cry on Calum. Didn’t dare let him know.

She should’ve stayed on her side.

*****

He looked elated. The happiness shone brightly on his face, in the crinkles by his eyes and the grin that pushed up his cheeks. Nothing in this world made Calum happier than when he was on stage, with his brothers, doing what he was born to do for the people who loved watching him do it. And there had been a time where Stella was one of those people.

But as she stood there on the floor amongst thousands of fans, Michael’s fiancé to her left dancing to a song that she’s heard a hundred times before, Stella felt that familiar fist wrap around her heart, squeezing it, punishing her for not being someone who could make Calum as happy as he felt when he was on stage. At one point, she almost did; a time in their relationship where everything was still new and fun and every little thing they discovered about one another made them fall a little bit more in love.

A year and a half later and Stella knew that magic was fading. Fast. And she was too tired to preserve it. Too tired of being the only one fighting a losing battle to do so.

The arena was alive with their fans, with the energy only 5 Seconds of Summer could entice in everyone, but Stella stood still in a spinning world as she felt herself moving further and further away from her surroundings. Everyone was alive, in the happiest place in the world for them. But Stella felt like she was dying and trapped.

“The bar’s, like, a ten minute drive from here,” Luke announced after the show. After they’d come down from their performance high and had changed into clothes that weren’t soaked with their sweat. His blue eyes swept over the group, pocketing his phone. “Everyone ready?”

Agreements were chorused and Stella frowned as they all began making their way out of the dressing room. She stopped Calum from following them out, her hand on his elbow as he came to a halt, turning to look at her with a raise of his eyebrows. “What bar?” she questioned, hoping to keep the tired annoyance from seeping into her tone. “I thought we were headed for the bus?”

Calum blinked and Stella hated that he was looking at her as if she’d grown a second head. As if she’d said something completely absurd. Hated that it was a look she had become familiar with lately. “The guys wanted to go for drinks—I told you that before the show.”

The exasperation prickled her Stella’s skin, hand dropping from Calum’s arm as she told him with thinning patience, “No, you didn’t.” Because he hadn’t. Because Stella knew Calum thought he told her but hadn’t actually gotten around to it. Figured that she’d just roll with it because what else was she to do in a city she’d only been to a couple of times—most of them with him? With a breath, Stella asked, “Why do you guys even need to go to a bar? You’ve got plenty of liquor here and on the bus.”

A frown pulled together Calum’s dark eyebrows, body turning to completely face her. He was a head taller than her, and Stella wondered when him gazing down at her had gone from attractive to patronizing. “Because we don’t wanna be cooped up inside, Stel. We’ll only be gone for a couple of hours, come on.”

Her thinning patience was replaced by defeated exhaustion. How long was she going to try and keep this up? What was she waiting for? Stella ran a hand through her hair, gaze averting as she nervously licked at her lower lip. Calum’s eyes were still trained on her, expression unreadable—when had she stopped being able to tell what he was thinking?—and Stella finally said, “I’m not in the mood to go to a bar, Calum. I just—I want some food and I wanna be in bed.” Throat working, she added, “You can go ahead; I think UberEats still works for a tour bus.”

Calum watched her for a couple of seconds and suddenly Stella felt small under his gaze. Scrutinized. She did her best not to bristle under his stare, hands burying into the back pocket of her jeans until Calum finally said, “That Chinese place you like is a couple of blocks from here. We’ll eat and head back to the bus, yeah?”

He ended his suggestion with a flicker of a smile upturning one corner of his lips, eyebrows raising in hopes of her agreement. Stella pressed her lips together, blinking as she forced on a smile with a nod of her head. Calum pulled out his phone and told her, “Lemme let Ash know.”

They sat across from each other at a small table in a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant with food Stella felt her mouth water over. There were three other patrons but most of the sound came from the back where the kitchen was, of utensils clinking and cooks chattering in their mother tongue. Stella and Calum sat silently, shrimp lo mein for him and rice and orange chicken for her. They sat together, but they were miles apart.

She ate her dinner and Calum barely touched his. He didn’t want to be here, Stella knew. He wanted to be in whatever bar their friends—his friends—were at but came here out of obligation. Because he was Stella’s boyfriend, and he couldn’t leave her wandering around a city she didn’t know her way around by herself this time of night.

Stella swallowed her spoonful, the food going down painfully slowly, the taste growing bitter the longer she sat with Calum. She wished he’d gone to the bar. She didn’t want him here, either.

*****

They were in Florida, and suddenly the heat of the southern state began reminding Stella of home, and for the first day she hoped it would help her settle. Hope it would give her a sense of peace she hadn’t been feeling lately. But the universe wasn’t on her side, and the heat did the opposite of what she’d hoped; it reminded her that she wasn’t home. That this was temporary. And it was just another day of her pretending and dragging out something she could’ve put an end to earlier.

But with the hesitance of ending something came the fear of starting something new. And discovering what happiness would be outside of the man she had hoped she’d love forever was paralyzing.

“She’s miserable.” Stella froze at the sound of Calum’s voice, gaze stupidly flickering around the bus. She sat on the couch, Luke taking a nap in his bunk while Michael seemed deaf to the world with his headphones on as he played his video game. Stella sat next to him, reading a book, the leather of the couch sticking to her uncomfortably, and her gaze drifted to the window. The bus was parked in the arena lot, the boys having a few hours before things started to get going for tonight’s show, and Stella blinked in realization that the window was open and Calum’s voice was coming from outside. The faint scent of a cigarette tickled her nose. “She doesn’t wanna be here.”

Her throat tightened at the dull emptiness in his voice. She recognized it as a mixture of defeat and acceptance.

“Have you talked to her?” Of course he was confiding in Ashton. “’Cause honestly, man, I haven’t seen you two speak much since he got here. You guys just. . . Silently coexist. What the hell’s going on?”

“The distance is a fucking toll, man. I think I figured if I flew her out for a few days then, I dunno, things would go back to normal. We’d be okay.” There was a pause. Stella knew he was taking another drag as he spoke with an exhale moments later. “But she looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. Anywhere but with me.”

The knot in her chest quivered her lower lip, grip on her book tightening as she kept her gaze absently on the pages. The words were there but she couldn’t focus on them. Just like the words she wanted to say to Calum but couldn’t form them on her tongue.

“Then why don’t you talk to her, Cal?” Ashton asked, a pressing urgency creeping into his voice, like he knew what would happen if Calum and Stella remained on the path they were on. “Ignoring the problem won’t make it go away. It’ll only make it worse. Why don’t you fix it?”

Stella held her breath, waiting for Calum’s answer. Maybe if he had one, it would help explain Stella’s own reasoning for Ashton’s question. Why didn’t they fix it? Why were they just letting it fester? They always used to talk, always let each other in.

But then again, they always used to smile when the other was around. Always used to feel the need to touch the other in some way. Used to, used to, used to.

“Because. . . I don’t think I want to.”

Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. It broke into a thousand little pieces upon hearing Calum’s words. It broke because he had the guts to say the reason Stella was trying to keep hidden from herself, kept refusing to acknowledge when it was crystal clear. It broke because he was suffering just as she was, yet he wasn’t doing anything about it, either. They weren’t together, they weren’t broken up; like Ashton said, they just coexisted. Too tired to be together, yet too hesitant to put an end to it.

Someone had to do it. Someone had to be the one to step it up.

“Hey, can I steal him for a sec?”

Ashton met Stella’s gaze as she stepped out of the bus, looking her way as he leaned forward from where he was resting against the bus, eyes meeting her past Calum’s figure. He nodded, hands in the pocket of his 5SOS hoodie—how he could wear that in Florida heat, Stella didn’t know— before pushing himself and walking towards her. Ashton offered her a small, close mouthed smile that didn’t entirely reach his eyes, and Stella found no offense in that.

She approached Calum as he dropped the cigarette butt to the ground, stepping on it with the heel of his vans. She came to a stop in front of him, lips rolled into her mouth as her dark eyes met Calum’s. He watched her silently, curiously—knowingly. His words echoed in her head, and the knot in Stella’s chest continued to tighten. The hesitance she always felt tried to fight her, tried to stop her from uttering the words she’d finally worked up the courage to speak. But this time she fought back harder.

She pushed and pushed until she finally said, “I’m gonna take the next flight back home.”

Stella looked at Calum, gave herself the courage to meet his gaze, and watched as his lips puckered briefly before he pulled them into his mouth. He nodded, almost to himself, as he looked off to the side, eyes squinting against the brightness of the day as the muscle in his jaw ticked. And despite the strength Stella had found to say those eight words, as she gazed at Calum, she felt the familiar sting in her nose and her eyes, swallowing the tightness in her throat because she was finally doing it. And looking at Calum—God, she wanted to cry.

They were silent as Calum processed her words; processed the weight and meaning behind them. Processed the truth. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, dark eyebrows pulled together, but he still didn’t look at her as he finally spoke lowly, “We could’ve stopped it from getting this bad.”  

Stella bit the inside of her cheek, cursing herself for sniffling as she looked past Calum and at the grey and black tour bus his back was against. Everything felt heavy. Despite the Florida heat, Stella felt a chill shudder through her body. Calum’s words were a knife digging into her bleeding heart. Her own voice was quiet, defeated and knowing. “We just didn’t want to.”

“Do you—” Calum stopped and Stella watched him purse his lips, throat working as he swallowed inaudibly, head turning to meet her gaze again. The air rushed out of her lungs at the pain she saw in his eyes, the pain that he accepted because he knew it was inevitable. This was inevitable. “D’you still love me?”

She fixed him with a look and Calum let out a humorless, breathless chuckle as he looked up at the bright sky. And Stella watched him, needing to press her lips together as her gaze turned glassier as the seconds passed. Of course she still loved him. Loving him was one of the best decisions she’d made, but staying in love with him was only a source of pain as of late. But Calum had made her smile and laugh and happy and feel content—how could she not love him for that?

Somewhere along the way, that seemed to be outweighed by the loneliness, emptiness and tiredness his absence brought along. And it wasn’t his fault. Stella couldn’t blame him for that. But it wouldn’t change. Maybe it was selfish, being able to commit to him but not to his job. Maybe in the future she’d come to regret this decision. But Stella couldn’t force herself to keep drowning when there was a way of getting some air.

After Stella’s silent answer, Calum’s humorless chuckle transformed into him shooting her a dry smile that didn’t reach his own glassy eyes. “It’s not enough, huh?”

Her throat locked, and Stella stepped towards Calum and grasped his hand. He felt cold under her touch, and Stella tried not to wince at the reminder of how dead this was. Still, she met his gaze, forcing a smile onto her lips as she told him, with honesty and sincerity, “Being loved by you was one of the greatest experiences of my life.” Her voice quivered, and then it broke when she added with a sad yet encouraging smile, “But it’s time someone else gets to experience it.”

His eyebrows twitched into a deeper frown, nose flaring in a way that Stella knew he was trying to keep himself from letting his own tears fall. Her heart tightened painfully. She hated being the reason for his tears. But it had to be done. “I don’t want some—”

“Maybe not now, but you will,” she told him, cutting that thought off before he could finish. She didn’t want him lying to her. It wouldn’t make this any easier.

Calum let out a breath, unsteady and accepting, and pulled Stella into a hug. She returned the embrace, even if it didn’t have the same level of comfort as she normally felt. She loved him. She would for a while. But she’d eventually learn not to. Calum’s chest sank with a breath as he held her close, his arms around her strong. To her words, he rasped, “I’m sorry.”

Stella’s tears fell, burying themselves in the material of his shirt, eyebrows furrowing together at the clench of her heart. She held him just as tightly, knowing it would be the last. “So am I.”

*****

Calum stepped into his bedroom, bags dropping to the carpeted floor, the thud louder than necessary. He was alone save for Duke following him into the room and jumping up on the bed, settling in the middle as his dark eyes remained trained on Calum. A sense of relief had washed over him as soon as the car had pulled into the driveway of his house. Tour was finally over, and nothing sounded better than being in the comfort of his home with his dog.

But before he could succumb to the softness of his mattress, Calum felt his attention draw towards his closet. Specifically, towards a small box in front of it.

He walked over, a curious frown on his face, crouching down as he pulled open the flaps, and felt his stomach churn ever so slightly in realization. Sitting inside were a few of his things, clothes mostly, with a toothbrush, hair brush, and deodorant sitting on top. Calum knew instantly where they were from—who they were from—and took in a breath he hoped would ease whatever tension tried to tighten his body.

Standing up, Calum’s gaze flickered to his closet, biting the inside of his lower lip. He knew he shouldn’t, but he walked over anyway and pulled open the door. Taking a breath, Calum observed the small amount of space that was left. Sure, most of his clothes that were usually hung up were in his suitcase, or in the box on the floor, but the closet was emptier than usual.

There was space where some of Stella’s clothes used to be hung up. Over the course of their year and a half relationship, there had been a mutual understanding that some of her stuff would end up at Calum’s place, while his would be at hers. Except now his things that used to be at her place were in a box on the floor, and her clothes were gone from his closet.

He stared for a moment, the silence in his room not as deafening as he feared it would be. It was calming. Broken only by the clinking of Duke’s tag as he scratched himself behind his ear.

Calum’s heart beat steadily in his chest as he took a step back, gaze still on the closet. He was a bit surprised that there wasn’t a gut wrenching, breathless pain that shot through him the longer he stared, his mind long since processed what the sight before him meant.

It had been months and his closet seemed empty without Stella’s things. Calum let out a sharp exhale. He didn’t feel so empty without Stella.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @sexgodashton @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @malumharmonies @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @buggy-blogs @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysideblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @aulxna @theagenderwhocriedwolf​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx @calistheloml​ @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @fluffsshawn​ 

[moonlightjeno]

swashbuckle and islands

a/n : this boy will be the death of me i love him so much. excuse my horrible grammar. my fav gif, and has nothing to do with the story lol but enjoyyy

genre : angst + fluff

pairing : readerxjeno & readerxmark

word count : 2.6k

okay,

okie, be ready for this mess

and excuse any non spaced words my space bar isn’t working properly

cool so your from an island

which imma call Skye bc i can

now your mum is originally from Skye, and had like second cousins of a cousin or whatever to throne but she married you father who was from the mainland 

which is a big no no but at the time she didn’t care bc she was so in love

skip forward a couple of years and the father is a complete ass

doesn’t work or really do much except order your mum around

anyone who has a wonderful father or really good parents im sorry don’t attack me this is for the story

:)

so, mum has had you and your older brother, whom your brother continues to admire your father bc he really just wants love and is hella lost in this mess of a world

Moving on

you used to have a really good relationship with your father until he changed.

cheated on your mother, and would blame it on you mum

in response you really just tried to help you mum get through this mess

big big mess

your brother, at the beginning helped and tried to calm your father  

boy kinda gave up, hela understandable

and left to the mainland to study medicine

wooot go him

but you were devastated because you were now alone 

now bc your brother has left your father has really worsened and blocks your freedom more and more

The point where you were literally only allowed to like go to school, work in the fields and be a servant

sksksk 

now remember how your mum was like the second cousin or smth to the royal crown?

Twas was importanttt

that managed to get you a study abroad year in london, 

queue your best friend mark entering

this boy showed you what freedom was and felt like for the first time since your father went off rails

iss been like a good 13 years and you're like 16 ??

I digress

mark literally made you feel more yourself because of his natural outgoing and easy behavior

It really was pretty amazing

And then the hiding and going out late at night was over

It was back to no friends, working at the field

sad life tbh

I must note, that because mark lived in canada bc why tf not 

y’all couldn’t really communicate

this is set when pirates where a thing, think of pirates of the caribbean 

I love those movies 

okie, progress two years 

of you thanks to you mum’s second cousin related human lol

you became friends with the cousins friends daughter 

y’all really had known each other since they were smol 

but hadn’t really been friends, bc the girl was pretty quite and a beaut

even her own father treated her better than she treated her own daughter

smh, ik this is a cliche live with it

but overall she was a really good person and kinda managed to sneak you around the island when you weren't on “duty” for your father

though its not that you didn’t like working in the fields bc you loved helping out with the animals and occasionally give food to those who were less fortunate than you and really couldn’t afford it

being a trooper, that you are you often told your friend idk wanna give her a name so y’all could come up with one if it were up to me it would be lilith about what you would see around the island and how the country was pretty not doing a okay

she would listen and talk about her own problems and how she wished she could travel and paint everything 

Bonding over traveling yep yeo

one day, you were supposed to work in the fields as you tend to have to do to the cows, and sheep and horses, while picking up the apples? from the trees ??

Idk i don’t farm

either wayyyy

you had finished your tasks early, and had struggled, and i mean stRuGgLed to get away from your father

he was in one of his moods today, shouting at everyone and refusing to admit he needed help

it was a constant reminder of every bad thing every failure that could happen in your life every thing you didn’t want for yourself or your mum who had slowly been getting sick and y’all had some money that could have helped her but your father thought that she deserved the illness

and i quote he said “everything happens for a reason child, if your mother had treated me and had been a good person this wouldn’t have happened to her, but alas some people deserve what they get”

skskskks 

he continued to say how “i on the other hand, have been a good man all my life, have always helped others so i don’t get sick”

this man i swear to god this has actually happened help

being very much done with your father who you really wished would just disappear and leave you and your mom who no longer lived with you but now lived with lilith to be

you had thought of running away for a very long time, though never knew how to get off the island it seemed impossible

sure you knew how to fight, somewhat by watching the guards and the little training mark you had taught your two years ago. 

missing mark hours but it wouldn’t compare to the guards of the royals who would never aid you

and even if they had, you had never learned how to sail which was ironic as the island you lived in wasn’t very large. Your only method of transportation has been your legs and your families faithful horse lethian ?? who really was your favorite out of all the animals 

running away from the trapped life had always felt like a dream, one that you had lived for for the small year in london with mark

you thought about running away again, the idea of sneaking into a trading boat slowly forming in your mind

you could take her your mum and lilith and travel the world go to london again and paris and canada and re-unite with the friend you missed the most

a smile had formed on your previous grim face, the dream something you held onto until your eyes opened and smoke covered the sky

a ringing began in your ears and you tried to stop it, your hands covering your ears in an attempt to stop the noise but the ringing only got stronger

the sky was black, shots were heard were the village people yelled in panic

you looked out towards the sea and could see the outline of a ship

a very large ship

oh shit 

a pirate ship

the flag blew proudly in the boat and from where you stood the bone white skull that contrasted against the black around it was made visible everytime the wind blew 

you gasped, everything anyone had told you about pirates were that they weren’t to be trusted

they were ruthless and would do nothing to stop from getting what they wanted

the stories you'd heard all came to the same conclusion you see the flag you run in the other direction

you pace quickened and in small time you were running towards the blazing village now up in smokes fire and fog covering the bakery, and fields

the school that had taught you the basics of reading and writing until girls weren’t allowed to attend was a blaze royal guards their black and purple uniforms waved their hands around and pointed their too heavy too unbalanced swords not being of much use

mom 

she should be safe

safe with lilith you thought, looking back towards were the small castle stood its bold flag still flying proudly in the grey and black sky

safe , shes safe you keep telling yourself a constant buzz that you repeated over and over to yourself in order to continue moving towards the castle walls

you only lasted a solid five minutes before the guards were holding the civilians back

you sighed angry these idiots being more preoccupied with holding back the citizens who were trying to get to safety behind the castle walls than actually dealing with the threat at hand

who hired them really??

being the stubborn human you are you decided to head towards the back entrance as yuo saw a flash of blonde hair headin towards the back gate of the castle 

oh no was your immediate thought their gonna get to lilith and mum

all the guards had been directed out of castle except a few that had stayed inside to keep the royal fam safe the infirmary had been left unguarded

you looked around trying to look for a familiar face, a familiar guard who youd seen at a practice lilith had dragged you too she had said it was too “admire suitors” you had shaken your head and laughed 

you had no interest in tying yourself to a man that would treat you like something to throw around but you let her revel in her fantasies 

no familiar face was found so you turned and ran towards the blonde head you had seen walk towards the back entrance grabbing a sword from one of the dead guards 

your cursed the clothes women were given making it impossible to run in impossible to fight in 

the blonde boy turned around at your approach, he was young you noticed

probably your age, his grin was deviant and his eyes were mocking as she approached 

“please” you tried “don’t hurt hurt anyone else” 

the boy looked at you with a puzzled look at laughed, slashing away at the thorns and vines that encircled the back door to the castle as he found the lock and tried to break it open

you got closer, looking at the broken glass bottles that littered the floor and torches that lit up the fogged street 

the boy was too busy with the look to realize the girl that had come behind him and hit him in the back of the head with the swords dull pommel the boy let put a yelp before collapsing at your feet

your small victory lasted a small time and before you noticed the boy you had tied with the thorns and vines from the door, which continued to be locked 

your mum and lilith as far as you knew safe

began to stir and as his eyes opened another boy appeared at the end of the alley

his hair seemed to be part of the night sky, falling over his dark eyes. 

“mark!” the black haired boy cried, his hand at his scimitar pointed directed towards you his other hand had managed to slip a dagger out of god knows where and sliced mark’s binds

mark the name sent a shock through you and you took a closer look at the young boy whose eyes were now wide open no anger shown

 but instead amusement and the joyous spark you had once known

he looked so different 

the black haired boy still had a sword at your throat and you swallowed briefly 

“mark?” you gasped feeling the tip of the sword against your neck a small movement and it would nick your skin, blood would swell

‘Mark’ looked at you again and laughed, 

the black haired boy looked confused “let her go jeno” 

jeno was like ‘excuse me ? she knocked you unconscious no i'm not doing that’ he didn't say it but mark understood and laughed again this time it was more mischievous a feral grin adorned his features

“let her go, she’s coming with us” jeno and you were both like huh? has this boy gone mad?

probably letss be realll

“umm no im not” you snapped at the boy you once knew, you glared at jeno who had regrettably removed his sword away from your neck but had placed the dagger threateningly close to your back ashe forced you to move along

you didn’t get an answer from mark who still seemed very entertained by the whole situation

he had changed so much since you’d last seen him *sigh*

you three walked back towards the village and you hadn’t realized how the screams of pain and fear were no longer heard

more than a few guards littered the floors and you tried not to gasp as jeno forcefully continued to move you towards the sea its waters black 

the walk to the pirate boat seemed to last ages, the sun had begun to set in the sky casting dark purple and red shadows above the black water that didn’t reflect any light. It broke your heart to see the usually clear water be black, the animals that lived in the waters probably struggling to survive.

when you finally arrived, the panic began to settle in again. you didn’t know if your mum and lilith were safe, you didn’t know what would happen and the boy you knew two years ago had changed so much that you could no longer read what he was thinking 

the ship loomed in front of you, you hear the small buzz of chatter from the ship and laughter

why was there laughter in such a horrible place ??

“Come on” mark said, already walking getting onto the ship, not looking back at the mess they had left behind

You no longer felt the sharp prick of a dagger or sword at your back, but instead it had been replaced by a strong hand guiding you towards the ship

the contact startled you, and you straightened and continued to walk forward the ship only a few feet away, you still held onto the rock that you had hit mark with, your sword taken away by jeno

you forced your feet to stop moving, because one more step and you’d be on the pirate’s boat, and ducked, and made a weak attempt at attacking the black haired boy behind you hitting him with the small rock you had on the leg

you begin to move away from the boat. The victory lasted a solid second before jeno had his arms around you, pinning your hands behind your back. No longer smiling, or understanding in his dark eyes. you glared at him and then at mark who had finally turned around, a sort of sadness passed over his features before he spoke

“you can’t run away y/n” he said calmly. “remember in london? when you dream about running away, leaving this island and  exploring the world? away from your father?”

his words shocked you, but you didn’t want to leave your mum she had no one else 

“i can’t just leave mark !! my mum, she’s still there and i can’t just leave her with father” a look of recognition and understanding flitted through jeno’s face and reflected in mark

“i know, i know but if you stay here and go back” the boy shook his head, the dark of the night making his blonde hair a dull light in the fog, 

you knew, that in many ways he was right. if you did go back the villagers had seen you with the pirates, being taken by them as the village had burned down and you weren't scared. the worst scenario would be that if you did go back they would imprison you, ask you for information 

hurt mum, hurt lilith even is she was part of the royals

you felt the tears well up in your eyes, and refused to let them fall

“we aren’t all that bad” peeped jeno’s voice who had softened again, until you looked at him and his gaze hardened

you forced yourself a small smile, and placed your foot on the board of the boat 

“Let’s go swashbucklers” you said, 

after all, the stories you’d heard had come from your father, and all his stories were a lie.

a/n : i hope y’all enjoyed that. ik there wasn't much jeno lol but i’m planning on king this a series if you want? send me an ask, if you do! either way, 

peace out luvs,

stay safe

[thephantomporg84]

Re: Dante and depression, I do think he goes through a very heavy period of it canonically in DMC2. There’s a lot of joking about how out of character he is, but he’s dealing with having killed Vergil/Nelo Angelo (and, going by the anime, Trish leaving, which is another on his list of people who cannot be around him long term). The more somber attitude, leaving everything up to chance (recklessness), and how he presents himself all day grief and depression. He’s got a lot of issues.

Y’know, I think you’re right. I really do. And for all the shit I give that game, it’s not even close to some of the truly bad video games I’ve played over the years. Dante’s attitude is also far from the worst thing about it.

Funnily enough, I have something potentially interesting to add to this. With the timeline being 3 -> 1 -> 2 -> 4 -> 5 now, there was someone on either r/DevilMayCry or r/TwoBestFriendsPlay (I think) a long while back that actually made a damn good argument for Dante’s behavior taking the turns it does throughout the series***. I’m gonna try to paraphrase it below — I’d link it in the source but I can’t find the thread to save my life.

Anyway!

DMC3: Dante is kind of loud and obnoxious, arrogant, flashy and somewhere in-between the Class Clown and Bad Boy tropes because he’s actually been through a lot of trauma and is a vulnerable teenager. Puffing his chest out so people (and demons) won’t want to fuck with him.

[On an added note of my own, I think it’s stated somewhere — Before the Nightmare, specifically (not 100% sure) — that Vergil did fight off demon hit-squads in the gap between losing everything and the DMC3 manga. Given that they are twins, and even demons like Beowulf can’t distinguish their scents and looks bc they’re too similar (until it’s too late), in addition to it seeming like the average demon doesn’t realize it’s sons of Sparda... well. It all makes me think that Dante fended off his fair share of those as well, hence the need for that attitude. He also isn’t the type for blunt, direct threats and carrying them out like his brother, either. Anyway.]

Post-DMC3: A little calmer even as early as the post-credits in DMC3. Very clearly affected by his brother’s “disappearance” and his ‘victory’. Probably still holds out hope Vergil really is a stubborn bastard and is alive, somehow.

DMC1: Probably really misses Vergil by this point. Mallet Island happens, Dante finds out his brother is alive but not really. Actually has to kill him.

Post-DMC1 into the anime: Even moodier than before. Much quieter. Still snarky, but much more... tired. Feels like an outsider and can no longer hold out hope to see his brother because he killed Vergil. He effectively crushed his own hope. He and Lady have their fair share of disagreements and Trish can’t work with him for a prolonged time, either. Not to mention, even if he wanted to talk to his friends about his brother, Lady and Trish aren’t exactly the best to talk to given how they’re tied to this story.

DMC2: Incredibly isolated and depressed. No one around to put the mask on for, Trish does her thing and Lady does hers (and sometimes they work together without him) and he probably has a reputation among demons at this point (no need for that teenaged attitude), so why bother putting the mask on at all?

DMC4: Dante is so all over the place in this game that he almost comes across as more ‘wacky wahoo pizza meme compilation’ than ‘actually fucking Dante from the Devil May Cry series’... but also finds out at the start of the game that his dead brother somehow had an Actual Kid™ and that he actually does have a living family member. His brother, in a way, lives on. Messes with the kid, but ultimately lets him keep a hilariously dangerous sword and essentially lets the whole Savior incident play out because he doesn’t say no to the kid.

[ngl, I’d probably be high on life and reciting literature my brother (probably) liked while being a total ham, too, if I were in Dante’s shoes at this point. I’d be fucking delirious with joy.]

~DMC5 era: Reality sets in over time, the happiness wears off, and Dante can’t bring himself to talk to Nero about any of it. He’s lonely and feels like an outsider, isn’t getting any younger, and still misses his brother. Seeing Nero probably causes some conflicting feelings. Guilt trips. Hiding things probably plays a part in costing Nero his devil bringer. He realizes it’s Vergil and that, for a third time, he’s going to lose his brother — a second time by his own hand. He’s been grieving this whole time while Vergil, somehow, someway, was alive.

End of DMC5: Has his brother back. Potentially has a family, even if it’s a small one, and even if it’s technically just his brother and nephew. Nephew really seems to care about them to do everything he did to stop them. Actually looks genuinely happy, for the moment, for the first time in a very, very, very long time.

[***Now, granted, I’m very aware that DMC, as a series, totally does have quite a few cohesiveness issues, and can’t seem to decide on a tone more often than not — though it does finally seem to be finding its footing there. It’s to be expected from a game born because ‘this was supposed to be Leon Kennedy and Resident Evil 4 but it’s just too goddamned much even by RE standards.’ But still! I thought that was a really impressive attempt to connect things and can’t praise it enough.]