#like I just saw a video where a woman is having a miscarriage

[angesaurus]

I know and understand everyone grieves and deals with things in their own ways and you could look @ a lot of things as “spreading awareness” but I truly cannot fathom going through something terrible and thinking “let me get my phone and record this for tik tok”

[thepro-lifemovement]

Okay, I am reading it and since this is old, I have seen counter arguments to a lot of this already. This will probably be long so I will put it under the cut.

I don’t like the discussion of personhood because when we decide who is a “person��� and who isn’t, we dehumanize and deny the most basic rights of life and liberty to “undesirables.” A civilized society doesn’t assign “personhood” on the basis of size or capability. Humanity itself imparts personhood. The only thing required to be a “person” is to be a member of our species. 

I don’t like the acorn argument because  an acorn is a thing. An embryo or fetus is a human being. Unlike everything else, human beings have inherent dignity and immense intrinsic value, irrespective of their capacities. If you want to compare the two, an acorn is not a tree, but it is oak by nature. An embryo is not an adult, but it is human by nature. I think both sides use slippery slope arguments and I think it’s unfair for her to say only the anti-abortion side uses them. 

Ah, the violinist argument. An impossible scenario. I would urge you to watch the video linked above. Everything I would say in regards to this argument would come from that video. But if you don’t want to take the time to watch it, let me know and I will condense what she says for you. 

While I don’t think abortion is necessary to save the mother’s life, I think it’s important to have a medical emergency section in the abortion bans. No woman should die a preventable death. I think any medical care to save a pregnant mother’s life is considered life saving care. We believe abortion is the intentional killing of the unborn. Doctors have a duty to save both mother and child, and if he can’t save the mama, save the baby, if he can’t save the baby, save the mama. But he should be trying to save both if he can. Example, if a mother needs cancer treatment but that treatment will result in her unborn child’s death, the intention of the treatment is to save her life and kill the cancer cells. The intention is not to kill her child. Her child’s death is an unintentional result of the treatment. We may prioritize the life of the born over the unborn, but both have value. If we can prevent a death, the death needs to be prevented. That’s what it means to be pro-life: all life has value, no one deserves to die. 

Whoever translated this from hardcopy to the internet needed to proofread; “Suppose you filed yourself trapped.” I agree, the woman needs to be considered and recognized as a priority. She is important; it’s not only about her unborn child. Many pro-life orgs and crisis pregnancy centers I have talked with truly do care about mothers in need. Like I said, no mother needs to die for her child. You can use any allegory or situation like that where you have to choose between one life or another, but just because you prioritize one over the other does not mean the other has no value. Both have value, just sometimes you can’t save both, and it’s tragic when you can’t. 

I’m not going to go into the whole “it may not be performed by a third party, but only by the mother herself” because no one will ever say that and that’s super dangerous. Ladies, never force a miscarriage or perform an abortion on yourself, or even take abortion pills without instruction from a medical professional. This is how women die. After Roe was overturned, I saw a lot of posts floating around instructing women on how to do those things. That’s how women die. Never advise them to do this.  

For the right to life, it means “that nobody, including the Government, can try to end your life. It also means the Government should take appropriate measures to safeguard life by making laws to protect you and, in some circumstances, by taking steps to protect you if your life is at risk.” On this viewpoint, it just gets into the violinist scenario, which I don’t feel the need to refute since it’s been discussed.

Oh my gosh the violinist returns again! She is so hellbent on bringing this into every scenario lol. 

In cases of rape, she is treating the unborn like they committed the horrible act and not the rapist. She is treating the unborn like they are responsible for the crime, which makes no sense. The rapist is the one responsible. 

These analogies get very strange. Like the person-plant one is so odd and quite silly. I don’t even know how to respond to it because it’s just so bizarre. I think Thomson ignores the rapist in her discussion here and just puts the blame on the unborn child, which isn’t fair. Rape that results in pregnancy has two victims: the woman and the unborn child. The unborn child is not the crimes of their father. They are an innocent party in this, too. 

She also assumes abortion is just “detaching a person from your body,” which is not what abortion is. Abortion pills starve and poison the unborn. Abortion procedures dismember and rip them apart with forceps. Abortion directly kills the unborn in such horrible ways. If you’re ever curious, you can see how abortions are performed here.

With allowing a person to use your body, you do not have a duty to them like you would with your unborn child. This is explained better in the video I attached that refutes the violinist argument. You do not have an obligation to a stranger or friend like you would to your own offspring as their mother. Yeah, refusing to give someone your organ when you’re the only one that can give it would not reflect well on you, but you’re not obligated to. But when it’s your unborn child, they are your obligation, whether you like it or not. It may seem really unfair, but it’s incredibly unfair to kill them, too. I think a big issue is we have turned sex from this loving, procreative act into something just for pleasure. People think condoms and birth control will eliminate the chance for pregnancy, but it doesn’t. Our society has forgotten the procreative part of sex and we don’t think about that when we have sex. I think people would make more wise decisions regarding sex if we had sex knowing there was a chance of pregnancy and accepting that fact. All the fear mongering going on in regards to sex and child birth has made many women see abortion as the more desirable option. Sorry for the tangent. 

It’s really hard to comment on this when she keeps going back to the violinist scenario. I agree you can’t force someone to act in good faith or do good deeds, but I think we should force people to not do evil acts like abuse or murder. “Henry Fonda does not have that special kind of responsibility for me.” He does not, but a mother has a special kind of responsibility for her child. That’s the difference between all of these scenarios. When I get pregnant, I will have the responsibility to care for and nurture my child. All mothers have this responsibility until someone else can be responsible for them. And I don’t think mothers should ever do this alone. I think the father should be financially responsible and pay for any hospital bills. He should also be morally and emotionally supportive. If it takes two to create a human being, both should take on the responsibilities, at least until someone else can.  

I don’t think anyone should ever be insensitive to any woman who chooses abortion. They felt it was the best decision at the time and some mourn the loss of their baby. We just feel its our job to inform them that there are other options and they’re not alone in this. There are resources to help them. We want abortion to be unthinkable. 

From Twitter.

[yourmidnightlover]

rock

Summary - spencer wants to figure out what's wrong with you, only to be reminded what day it is and he remembers why you've been so distant.

TW: talk abt: rape, recovery, therapy, case stuff; mention of: drug addiction, rape, miscarriage, being shot, death lol

WC - 4,283

!DISCLAIMER! - i am in no way trying to romanticize recovery from a traumatic event or being upset/depressed/anxious. this is kinda my way of getting through my own issues, so please don't think that's what i'm trying to do in any way. i also don’t know how i feel abt this ending since i wrote it so long ago but oh well!

i just realized there are a few spoilers so i'll put *asterisks* around them. those parts are just explaining how the reader's always there for the team.

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

you had always been the rock in spencer's life.

mentally, at least.

when he had nobody there for him when he was going through his addiction with dilaudid, there you were. you helped him through it when everybody else on the team acted as if they never noticed.

you were the one that encouraged him to get help, and pushed him to follow through. you made sure he ate and talked to someone when he had his urges again, even if it wasn't you.

you let him come over and cry about what had happened, and how unfair his life was. you consoled him and would tell him how nothing was his fault. how he didn't deserve anything bad in his life.

*and when emily 'died', he went to your house every day. you held him as he felt himself falling apart from losing her. you didn't even worry about yourself needing to be consoled, because spencer needed you to be there for him.

*when she came back you were the one to convince him to forgive her. you talked sense into him. you reminded him how much he pleaded to have her back, and then he did. so he managed to forgive her... because of you and your logic.

*and you weren't just there for spencer. while, yes, you made a special effort to be there for him, you were there for everyone on the team.

*when derek was arrested back in chicago and the team found out about his past, you were the one he leaned on for comfort. you and penelope. you let him cry on your shoulder and yell at you about how twisted a man would have to be to do something so cruel to a child.

*when jj was kidnapped and beaten to a miscarriage, you were the first she told. you didn't say anything. you knew there was nothing you could say that would relinquish the pain of losing a child. so you let her cry. you let her hug you for what felt like hours. you let her grief her unborn baby for as long as she needed.

*when penelope was shot, nobody cared to check up on her after the fact except you. you went to her apartment for weeks just to make sure she was okay. eventually, she was able to let loose all of her frustrations on you, and you took it like a champ. she ranted about how she just wanted to be loved by someone attractive and how unfair and cruel the world is, in spite of how much good she tries to bring into it.

*when hotch lost hailey, you took care of his files. you offered to watch henry and let hotch cry to you about losing her a few times once you broke past his tough exterior. you even cried with him and jack. you made them dinner whenever you could, and helped him look for good nannies to help care for jack.

*when rossi lost carolyn, you went to her grave with him on many occasions. you brought him his favorite scotch, which was very pricey, and his favorite cigars, also very pricey, and tried your best to recreate 'the rossi special' upon his directions. it helped him feel in control of something when he needed it.

*and when emily came back from the dead, you helped walk her through her own grief. she lost herself, and buried her emotions. you helped her dig up her old self, and grow into an even better woman. you even took care of her cat when penelope couldn't manage. you helped emily grieve her own death when she wanted to deny it ever happened, and she was forever grateful for you.*

you had become like the team's built-in therapist when something bad happened, and you loved it that way. you loved being the one the team went to when they needed it. it made you feel as though you had a purpose, which was something you desperately needed.

but when you went through your own trauma almost a year ago, you refused help from anyone. you knew you should've asked someone for help, or at least someone to cry or talk to when you needed to.

the team had been working on a case for longer than expected, 8 days now, and everyone was really frustrated. you had released the profile 7 days ago, and there was still no new information. it was as if the unsub had gone dormant, and you all couldn't bear that thought.

when the team released earlier than normal from the precinct and you all went to the hotel you had been staying at, you decided to get a drink from the bar quickly. you went alone, wanting to review a few of the case files during the process and not needing a distraction.

you ordered a jack and coke, and opened the case files to begin rereading them, seeing if you had missed anything.

victims were kept for 24 hours, filmed, raped, restrained, cut in pieces, and thrown in the trash like garbage. it was absolutely disgusting, and the worst you had seen in a while. the victims were low-risk and most of them had a place of authority.

the unsub had been profiled to be someone who was bossed around by a woman, narcissistic and egotistical, wanted to feel more power and authority.

the problem is, that profile was most people living in the area. even penelope couldn't dwindle down the suspects.

and alas, you had missed nothing. nothing new appeared or caught your eye. you gulped down the rest of your drink and paid for it before packing up your things to head upstairs. you tossed the file back into your bag and began the trek to the elevator.

you were interrupted by something hitting the top of your head, rendering you unconscious.

the team had woken up, and after waiting around for half an hour, spencer realized something was wrong. he had morgan bust into your room, only to find the bed unslept in. you were missing. and the worst part... you fit the unsubs type.

spencer felt his heart drop at the realization he had taken you. and it seemed as though there was no trail as to where you had gone. penelope checked the cameras, only to find that they were hacked right after you left the bar, and then they resumed after you were taken.

at least they had a time frame.

later that day, after everyone hasting to figure something, anything out, spencer had gotten an email. he opened it and expected it to be relentless spam, only to realize it was a live feed video. a video of you. he instantly called penelope in hopes that she could trace it.

she said she could, but it would take some time because the amount of routers it had been going through.

while they were waiting, you noticed you were alone. you knew who the unsub was too, thanks to his baffling stupidity and narcissism that lead him to believe he wouldn't get caught.

"officer johnson! it's officer johnson!" you looked around the camera for a second, noticing something moving. "he-he here," you cried out. "i love you," you said to the camera to nobody in particular, but someone in mind.

you were terrified. spencer could see it in your eyes. he could see the tears you tried not to shed. you didn't want to please him, but you couldn't help but feel the absolute horror and fear coursing through your body at a relentless pace.

"hi there, missus fbi," he teased, finally walking into the frame with a ski mask over his face, clearly not aware that we knew his identity.

spencer told garcia who he was, and she began her digging. officer johnson's great grandparents had owned a farm that was since then refurbished. it was an hour away.

officer johnson had known that you two had chemistry. that's why he sent the email to spencer. he saw the longing glares, the 'innocent' touches, the smiles you would give each other, the longing looks you shared. he wanted to torment him.

so when he began undressing you and you turned your face away from the camera in hopes of sparing some of your own dignity, spencer felt his heart breaking for you. it broke even more when he heard the yelps, and screams, and please, and "no!'s" you elicited during the act.

they caught him before he cut you, but not before he finished the first part of his plan. your skirt was ripped, and your shirt was practically in two pieces. spencer had given you his jacket to cover yourself as much as you could.

you stayed silent the ride back. you didn't even let spencer hold you like you normally would after a tough case. you were ashamed. embarrassed. you felt worthless. you felt pathetic. you felt stupid. you felt helpless. you felt like you were drowning. you felt like you were without a life raft.

you knew you could talk to the team about it, but you felt so disgusted by the thought of what happened to you that you only talked about it in your therapy sessions.

hotch had given you two months off. he wanted you to grieve, and go to therapy, and try to cope with everything that had happened.

and you did try to do that. you tried your hardest to get over it and move past it, but nothing helped. not the journaling. not the talking. not the crying. nothing was working.

spencer gave you a little space at first, but he then decided to try to help you as you had helped him. he went over to your house almost every day, and sat outside your door after you wouldn't let him in.

you knew he was there... you sat on the other side.

"i-i know that you probably don't want to see anyone right now. and i'm uh, i'm sure you feel alone right now, or like you can't talk to anyone," spencer sniffled. "but pl-please just uhm, just know that i'm here when you want to talk about it. i'm here to listen to you when you need me to. i-i don't want you to be alone during this time, y/n. please, just let me in," he begged.

that was normally what he would say almost every night he went to your house. he would sit outside for hours after he would ask you to let him in without fail. until one day you let him in.

spencer felt so much relief when you opened the door, only for it to be smashed when he noticed your eyes looked red and puffy, your cheeks were stained with the tears you had been crying for so long. your cheeks were sunken in, and there were dark circles underneath your eyes that were once full of life and happiness. your eyes no longer had that gorgeous sparkle in them.

spencer vowed he would get them back.

as much as spencer wanted to wrap his arms around you in that moment, to comfort you and tell you that he was there, he wanted you to make the first move. he wanted to tell you how strong you were and how proud of you he was for getting through that. he wanted to tell you how much he loved you.

he wanted you to make the first touch, because he didn't want to further upset you. he didn't want to trigger a repressed memory, or bring back the feelings of what had happened.

but spencer's touch was nothing like the officer's. spencer's touch was soft and gentle. spencer's touch was feather-light and endearing. spencer's touch was love and home. the officer's was brittle, and rough, and repulsive.

"hug me?" you sniffled as your eyes welled with tears again as they had been for the past three weeks.

"of course," spencer slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulders as yours found his torso.

he walked inside with you still in his arms and slowly shut the door. without breaking from the hug, you both walked to the couch and sat down.

you didn't say anything. you just needed spencer to keep hugging you, so he did. he did whatever you wanted, needed, from him. eventually, you fell asleep in his embrace on the couch.

when spencer looked down at you, now sleeping against his chest, he couldn't bring his heart to remove himself from you. so like any whipped man would do, he carefully picked you up bridal styled and carried you to your room. he took his shoes off as well as his sweater vest before cuddling back up next to you.

as if it was a reflex, you cuddled up into his chest when he neared you again and got underneath the covers. spencer slept the best he did in months with you. and you slept without officer johnson in your dreams for the first time since that day.

ever since then, spencer had been making sure you were eating and drinking. he took you to your therapy sessions and stayed over most nights you had asked and he was able to.

they had a few cases during the two months, so every moment he could, spencer was with you. he coaxed you back to your normal-ish self. he watched as that glimmer in your eye began to slowly grow brighter everyday. he watched as your smile came back, and your tears didn't come so frequently.

the first time he had heard you laugh again, spencer had thought he was dreaming. he wished he had recorded that moment. he was more grateful than he's ever been in his life that he had an eidetic memory, because that sound would forever be engraved in his brain.

when you returned to work, you clung to spencer. he had become your tether to reality, and hope. he had become your rock during the recovery.

over the months, everyone slowly began to forget what had even happened. things went on as usual, and the team forgot the traumatic experience you had gone through. even spencer might've let the experience get lost in his brain.

so when it became 11 months and 3 weeks since the abduction, you began to distance yourself once again.

you politely declined going out with the team a couple days before the anniversary, something you never did. you insisted that you were just especially worn out from the case you had just been on.

spencer had to finish files given to him by derek anyway, so he didn't get to witness the encounter.

once the day of the anniversary came upon you, you found yourself feeling sick to your stomach. you couldn't help the tears that would fall from your face every so often. you knew why you felt this way, but you wanted to push past it.

you had gone into the office wearing a pantsuit and blazer, wanting to avoid the normal office skirt you happened to be wearing the day it happened. you stayed at your desk and quietly did your case files. you didn't even greet spencer as you would every day. you gave him a kind smile, but you would normally give him a hug, or at the very least an eager wave upon his arrival.

spencer just assumed it was one of those days where you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. it wasn't spencer's fault he thought this. he didn't even look at his calendar to check what day it was. he just knew they had paperwork.

but he did have this day marked in his calendar. he had it marked so he would remember to be extra kind to you, and do your files for you, and come to your place with your favorite wine and takeout. he wanted to help you through the one year anniversary, but he forgot to check his stupid calendar.

you thought he didn't care. you thought the man who you loved, and the man who helped you through everything that had happened had had enough of your complaining and grievances. so, you didn't tell him about it. you didn't bother him with the terrible thoughts clouding your mind because you thought it'd burden him.

so when you finished all of your case files early, you asked hotch if you could leave early, at 2:00, because you had things to tend to. he allowed you to do so, but this rose a flag for spencer.

he saw you exit without saying goodbye to him, something you hadn't done the entirety of knowing him. you had always told everyone to have a nice night and to be safe before leaving, but not today.

finally, he looked at his phone for the first time all day, only to feel like the worst person in the world to realize what day it was. spencer felt absolutely horrible at this revelation and ran into hotch's office as quick as he could after packing his things.

"hotch!" he exclaimed upon opening his office door.

"go. she was practically in tears," hotch informed him. "and reid," spencer stopped in his tracks to turn and look at the stern man, "please make sure she's okay." spencer gave him a soft grin and a nod before turning around and bolting out of the office.

you had gotten home and immediately burst into tears. you shut the door with your back, and slid down it. you had never understood why people had done that in movies until now. you just couldn't wait to break any longer, so you settled for your front door.

you held back no wail, or scream as you cried in front of your door, your knees pulled up to your chest as you held them tightly.

you wondered why you had to go through that. you wanted to know what kind of karma there was for someone who had always tried to do the right thing to be hurt... and for nobody to even care. nobody wanted to console you, or to make sure you were alright.

you had checked up on everyone on every anniversary of their struggles. whether it be a death, abduction, anything, you had been there for every single anniversary or reminder. and nobody was there for you.

nobody was there for you to hug, or to lean on, or to cry to, or to scream at, or to rant to. nobody was there. nobody loved you enough to care about that.

but then you had to remind yourself that they all had lives.

but the person who is your life didn't even care.

spencer didn't care.

and that's why you truly lost it.

he acted like it was just another day. he acted like it wasn't the anniversary of the day you thought you were going to die. the day you wanted to die. the day you felt your most low, and humiliated. the day you lost all hope. and he didn't remember.

if the man with an eidetic memory didn't remember, it must be extremely insignificant. so therefore, you must be extremely insignificant.

spencer raced to your house. he wanted to be there for you today, and he failed. he felt like a failure as a friend. he hated himself for not being there for you when he knew you would need him. he knew how you clung to him in your time of need. you thought he was worthy enough to hold onto when you needed someone, and spencer felt elated at that.

but now he wasn't there for you. and you needed him.

he had quickly stopped by the store and your favorite takeout place to get the things you'd want. he got your wine, chocolate, food, flowers, and a teddy bear that had a sweater vest on him - you've always loved his sweater vests.

when he got to the steps of your house, he felt his heart drop. as he walked closer he heard the wails of your crying right by the door. he could sense the heartache from the edge of your porch, and felt himself feel even worse, which he didn't think was possible.

he instantly ran to the door and knocked profusely. you sniffled one last time, feeling embarrassed that someone had heard you crying your heart out. you had figured one of your neighbors heard you and wanted to tell you to keep it down, so you wiped your tears and the stray mascara from underneath your eyes and opened the door, keeping your eyes lowered in embarrassment.

"y/n," spencer announced sadly, a tear falling down his face. you looked up in confusion from hearing his voice. you noticed his tear and reached up to wipe it away on instinct.

"why're you crying? are you okay?" you asked, forgetting all of your own problems at the sight of spencer crying. spencer let out a small chuckle at your concern.

"i'm alright, aside from the fact that i'm a terrible friend," he admitted as his smile quickly faded upon seeing your stained cheeks. "i brought your favorites," he offered, holding the bag of goodies in one hand and the takeout in another.

"y-you... why?" you asked, wanting to make sure you weren't misreading the situation for him trying to comfort you.

"why?" he asked in disbelief. "because it's the anniversary. i can't tell you how sorry i am, y/n. i swear i marked it on my calendar and planned for us to take off so i could take care of you. i-i just woke up late and never bothered to even check my phone. i kn-know it's no excuse... but i am so, so, so sorry," he rambled out, already tearing up.

you grabbed his arm gently and pulled him inside before you started crying in front of your neighbors. you took the bags from his hands and placed them on your coffee table.

"i thought you just didn't care," you shrugged as you took a seat on the couch, prompting him to sit beside you.

"y/n..." he sighed as he realized how terrible he screwed up. "i will always care about this. i will always care about you. don't ever think differently. i'm just incredibly... dumb sometimes. i can't believe i made you think that," he trailed on. "i will never not care about you, y/n. i swear it. i will always, always care about you. i will always love you," he froze as he realized what he just revealed. your eyes widened, and squinted, and roamed his face, trying to figure out if he meant the words he had just sped out. "i truly do, y/n. i i’m in love with you and i'm so sorry i made it seem otherwise."

it took you a second to absorb everything that he had said.

"you too," you solemnly admitted. "i’m in love with you too. and i could forgive you... for almost forgetting," you gave him a small smile.

"i'm glad you could forgive me. i don't know what i'd do if you didn't," he relished. "you actually love me?" you nodded with a small smile.

"i have for a while," you turned your head to the bags on the table.

"oh! right!" he said, reaching for the gifts. "i got your favorite takeout, your favorite wine, your favorite chocolates, flowers, and..." he trailed on as he revealed each item. "i saw this teddy, and i couldn't resist," he smiled.

you took the bear, taking in its appearance. it had a light blue, navy, and white diamond pattern sweater vest and brown shoes on. it looked like spencer, just teddy bear form. you smiled widely at the sentiment.

"it's you," you grinned as you took it in your arms, hugging it tightly as you saw spencer nodded with a smile mirroring that of your own. "i love it," you chuckled.

"i would understand, the fur is really soft," he relished in the thought.

"i don't think he'd be as good of a cuddler as the real thing, though," you grimaced. "but he'll do for when i don't have you here i guess," you shrugged with a smile.

"i plan on being here as long as you'll let me," he said softly.

"always," you grinned, setting down the teddy bear and trading him for the real spencer reid.

"always," he repeated, taking you in his arms and squeezing you tightly as if you'd float away at any moment. "now let's dig into this food while you talk about your feelings, if you want that is," he said after releasing you from the hug.

"i think i want to," you nodded. "and spence?" he turned from getting the food out of the bag to look at you for a second. "thank you for being my rock through all of this."

"i'll always be your rock, y/n."

@averyhotchner  @greenprisca  @muffin-cup

[oh-styles]

Something About a Beginning: Part II

First off, I want to thank each and every one of you for your immense patience. (More so than others, but I digress.) Writing on such topics when you yourself aren’t in the most healthiest mentality is a struggle alone, but we got here. 

Second off, if you haven’t read the first part, you can so here. These chapters implicate bouts of depression and talks of miscarriage, so read at your own will. 

I do want to note that I mention Robin in this story, and I was hesitant to include him because I felt it wasn’t appropriate, because he shouldn’t be used as entertainment purposes (i.e. in stories) but I mention him only with love and respect.

Again, thank you for your patience, and happy reading.

July 3, 2019 London, England

Harry lost his girl.

She vanished in the night – gone with the wind – and all that remained was a ghost of a woman, transparent and bleak. He hasn’t seen her smile since that night, coming close to a week now, and his gut retches at the thought he might never get his girl back.

She’s buried herself in the sheets; the window is opened a crack, and he spots an empty bottle of melatonin laying overturned on her bedside table. He stares intently at her body, watching as the sheets rise and fall to the pattern of her placid breathing, and he thinks for a moment that she’s finally found herself a better place. Not dead—not by any means. Whatever dream world she has found herself delved in, he knows she might have found a sliver of peace there, hopefully smiling.

“She’s sleeping, mum.” Harry says into his phone, taking a step back to gently close the bedroom door. “Rande and Cindy invited us to Muskoka but…” His words hung in the air, like the elephant in the room, but his mother knew all too well what was lingering on the precipice of her sons’ tongue.

But she’s too depressed.

But she can’t go a day without crying.

But I don’t think she has the energy to leave the house.

It’s been four days since the attack, and Harry hasn’t seen her take a step outside of their bedroom.

“Love, she’s wasting away in there. It might help her a little to get out, get some sun…”

“Mum, I can’t even get her to sit in the fucking garden.” He can hear his mother’s nettled sigh on the other end of the line, but how can anyone expect him to put her on a mother fucking airplane if she can’t even bother to walk the 30 meters to the fucking garden? “The sodding paps were outside the house last night.”

“They can’t—”

“I’m aware.” He begins to descend his way down the stairs, stopping to peer out from the front window – an old, worn out habit. “I think it’s best we get away for a bit. The story hasn’t died down… I think it’ll help—getting away. They won’t bother us there.”

Harry knew your answer before he even had the chance to ask; he knew he was wasting his time in even suggesting such a thing, but the guilt would eat away at him if he didn’t even try.

“Muskoka…Canada, remember? We went there last year.” He sat at the edge of the bed, running a hand over the sheets where a peek of your shoulder laid exposed. “It’ll be quiet. Nobody there to bug us. If you want to just hang out in the hotel room the whole time, I’d be fine with that. It’s just…”

I can’t stand to see you burrowed away another day.

“I’m really worried about you… I’m just trying to help.” He was powerless, and he knew it. He couldn’t take her by the arm and force her on a plane, but god forbid he try his damned hardest. “No paps, nobody. I promise. I wouldn’t take you there if it wasn’t safe.”

He feels a stir beneath him, and from underneath the covers, a small hand inches outward and lays upward, a silent plea for intimacy—a piece of familiarity he hasn’t touched in days. He reaches out and clasps her hand in his, and readjusts himself to lay beside her.

“You can think about it. I don’t need an answer this second, but give it a day or two, okay?”

He sees her nod, and her eyes blink open to meet his, only for a second, before they are closed once again for the remainder of the night.

*

July 6, 2019 Ontario, Canada

Muskoka came and went. Nothing advantageous to really capture your attention, though you kept your head nestled low in a book for most of your stay. You tossed a couple Stephen King novels into your bags without much thought, and by the time your trip was coming to an end, you had already completed one and started another.

A photo made its rounds online of you at dinner with Harry, Rande and Cindy, and even thinking back to that night, you couldn’t recount a time where you felt a pair of eyes boring at your table. You think it might be because you paid more attention to the drink menu than your friends, but you digressed. They only saw the back of your head, and not even the photographer mentioned you. You were also mistaken for Kaia on a couple occasions.

After Muskoka, you were back in London, and not much later Harry would be jetting off to Italy for Google Camp, and a few days after that, he was set to fly to Mexico for a video shoot. He was redundant to go, and even called Jeff to see if they could reschedule, but that would cause a delay for the next video they’d film only a week later. He asked if you wanted to join him, and you kindly declined. You were much aware of his past video sets, and how common it was to see photos and videos leaked online, and you were far from interested to be included.

You were much happier to find yourself under the watchful eyes of Anne Twist.

“I can meet you in Scotland if I’m feeling up to it.” You knew it was a scorching lie crawling right off your tongue, but if it meant he carried some hope with him, then you would feed him whatever white lies you could muster. Even Anne knew better than to believe you.

“I think Canada was good for you, love, but you need some rest, too. Can’t be travelling all over the bloody world, now, can you?”

It was a nice feeling to know she had your back.

In another life would a little green monster be envious of missing such a trip to Cancun, but the only desires you had were sitting in Anne’s garden being force fed a steady cup a tea and a plate of biscuits.

Anne didn’t pry; she knew well what you needed, but she would be keeping her sons promise on keeping you safe, and she knew there was no safer place for you to be.

It was August now, and the heat felt suffocating. You and Anne spent your mornings walking to the bakery her son once worked in, grabbing a quick breakfast before heading to the park. You would pick off pieces of your croissant and toss it at the squirrels, but you almost always scared them off. Anne told stories of when Harry was a child, and how he once tried to tell her Gemma was a drug dealer.

“She was only a child,” she hummed, laughing into her coffee. “But he was always a character to have around.”

“I feel like…between you and me, right?” You could hear in the distance the sound of a goose honking and a group of children wailing, running away. “I just…don’t want to upset him.”

Anne reached over and took your hand in hers. “Anything you say is always safe with me, love.”

“I’m mad he left me here.” There was a short beat, but you could feel your throat close, and that anger begin to well up in your chest. “This…this is also…”

“I know, love.” She scooted closer, squeezing your hand. “Everyone has their own ways of dealing with grief. Harry isn’t good at sitting around… Even when Robin passed, he didn’t like to sit. He needed to go do something.”

You remember, and yet you still recall him lying on his mother’s couch in tears. You don’t think he’s cried since the two of you left the hospital a couple weeks ago.

“He loves you, darling. He calls me every day to check in on you. Don’t think for a second he doesn’t care.”

Even with her words, you felt something was missing.

*

Harry was only in Scotland for a couple days before he was finally home, but it wouldn’t be long before he would be venturing off to Italy – again – for another work-related conquest. You weren’t sure why he was so content with country hopping every couple of weeks instead of resting at home with you, but you didn’t bother bludgeoning him with questions.

“After I’m through with Italy—I won’t even be there a day—I’ll be back home, but a couple weeks later, I have to go to LA for some meetings… I’d like you to come, if that’s okay.”

Again. There’s always something. It must be so fucking difficult to stay in one place for more than a couple weeks with your grieving girlfriend.

“Also…I was meaning to ask you. Ariana is in town in a few days… Wanted to know if you wanted to come with me and the guys… I think it’ll be fun.”

“Your child died a month ago and you want to go to a fucking Ariana Grande concert.” The words fell helplessly from you, but it was weeks of anguish and neglect that hit its final tier, and you were quite tired of hanging on. “Tell me….how does that make sense to you?”

“Excuse me?” For the first time that night, he looked at you. All before, he found excuses to shift his glances to anything but you, maybe in fear of reality finally hitting him in the face with what he’s been running from for weeks, but for the first time that night, he bared his eyes down at you, and his mouth fell open.

“I’m sorry—have I been hallucinating you just picking your shit up and leaving every chance you get?”

“I’ve had work—” He took to his feet, swiftly flinging his hand out to close the lid of his luggage.

“Any normal person—I swear, any normal person would stay home, and fucking grieve, except you, who wants to fucking fly everywhere and work, because that would require facing his fucking prob—”

“I have a job—I know it’s hard for you to relate to that, but I have commitments—”

“And what am I then? If not a commitment, then what, Harry?”

“You are a commitment—”

“Then where have you been? Why have I been staying with your mother? I know you invited me to go with you, but I shouldn’t have to. I’m fucking hurting, Harry! I don’t want to go to Cancun and Italy—I want to be here with you. Do you know how fucking hard it’s been dealing with this without you here?”

For once, he was silent, but he shifted on his feet.

“You haven’t cried. Not since the hospital. I can’t count how many times I’ve cried, and you sit around texting your band or going to video shoots… If you feel nothing—no grief or anything…if you didn’t even want the baby, just tell me. Make this easier on me, please.”

“How the fuck can you say that I didn’t want the baby? My heart is fucking hurt!”

“Then act like it!”

“You really think I can sit around every day and watch you fall apart? I have to be the strong one… If it can’t be you, then it has to be me, and I don’t like watching you hurt.”

“You know…you sometimes have a really shitty way showing people you care about them.”

You stood there, arms folded in resistance, and he couldn’t take his eyes from off the floor. He felt cornered, and he was defenseless with nothing else left to give. His bags still laid on the bed, clothes scattered over the sheets ready to be put up, and you knew this room was no place for you. Your purse was downstairs, and your phone in your pocket.

“I’m going to stay with Gemma tonight. I’ll have her pick me up. Please don’t follow me out.” 

*

She’s always been the quiet one.

The first time she met you, at a family gathering you were reluctant to attend despite the persistent reassurance from your other half, she knew from the moment she saw you that you were different from all the others. You held yourself different, much shorter, like you knew you could never become the center of attention.

You studied the room, holding onto Harry’s hand as he introduced you to his mother, and that’s when Gemma appeared from over her mother’s shoulder.

“About time I meet you,” she chuckled, reaching her hand out. “I’m Gemma.”

She watches you now from the edge of the driveway, sitting on the steps of the porch with only the light above you illuminating your surroundings. From behind you, she spotted the silhouette of her brother peeking through the curtains, keeping a close eye for just in case.

Your track record wasn’t a good one.

As she approaches, you perk your head up with a sigh of relief. For the first time, she was the Styles you nothing but needed.

“Come on, Magoo,” she chirps as she finally reaches you, lifting her hand out for you to take. “We can hit the McDonald’s drive-thru.”

Laura Nyro played over her car stereo, a melodious tune you recall hearing once before on a long drive in Cheshire. You shut your eyes, and the memory floods you like a storm, like a stampede parading across your chest, and you lean over to rest your head on the window.

Gemma reached her hand over to find yours, giving it three squeezes of solace.

I. Love. You.

The cut that was tucked away in your hairline was in its last stages of healing, and a scar would most certainly take its place. You always felt the erratic throbbing, like a little reminder that no matter how far you run, your problems will always be chasing you like the devil.

“Did I make a mistake?”

Gemma turned her attention from the road, lifting your hand up with hers, and planting a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“No, Magoo. I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re dating a dumbass.” She heard a muted hum in response. “Nobody is perfect… Not even that shithead. I can see where he thought what he was doing was okay, because he was sacrificing his feelings for you, but… that’s just not how you do it.”

You could drink to that.

Gemma spotted the golden arches and took a left at the light. “I’m glad you texted me… Haven’t had a bloody girl’s night in ages. It sucks under the circumstances but…” She turned back to you with a wink. “I’ll take what I can get.”

On the journey back to her flat, you pleasantly sipped at your chocolate milkshake and tapped your feet to the music, and even sporadically hummed along to the few chords you knew. It really didn’t take much to please you.

Gemma was never gifted a sister as a child. Though, she did want one, and was thoroughly distraught when her mother brought home a brother all those years ago, she did grow accustomed and grew to love the curly haired boy who she would then share with the world. But the girl beside her, who slurped her drink and choked behind a laugh of a joke about a time traveler who walks into a bar, had burrowed herself deep within her heart, much like she does with any counterpart she meets.

It’s incredibly difficult not to meet this girl and not hold some sort of placement in her life. Her heart is massive, but the love she radiates is gracious and touches anyone who dares get too close.

And the love Gemma has for her is just as the same.

Michal was asleep when the two of you arrived; you knew your way around, and confidently walked to the spare room down the hall, last door on the right. Gemma trailed behind you, holding your milkshake as you flipped on the light, and kicked off your shoes.

Olivia was already sprawled out over the comforter.

“Could you stay with me, tonight?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice, babe.” Gemma smirked, setting your drink down on the bedside table. “Have you ate?”

You shook your head, even trying to recall if you had mustered an appetite to have some breakfast, but even then you think you took a couple bites out of an apple and forgot about it.

“I’ll make you something—actually, Michal and I have spinach ravioli left over… Want me to heat some of that up for you?”

You graciously nodded. “You’re too good for me.”

“I just love you is all.”

The next morning, the spot beside you was visibly vacant, and from down the hall you could vaguely hear a low, sullen voice talking over the sound of the television. Gemma fired back in response, and from your feet, Olivia peeked her head from the covers, turning towards the disrupting noise.

“Let her sleep—she’s exhausted—”

“Just give me five bloody minutes!”

You knew any chance of sleep you wish you had was far gone.

“I’m up—just fucking talk!” You hollered into your pillow, your eyes still adjusting to the sunlight cascading into the room. You could guess it wasn’t any later than nine that morning, and before you had a moment to check, his unquestionable footsteps neared your door, and you heard a light tap. “I’m obviously awake.”

After you walked out the night before, he ignored your wishes and followed you downstairs where the shortest reaction he got from you was the front door slamming in his face.

“Can I talk?”

I don’t know, can you?

“You literally came here and woke me up from some incredible sleep, mind you, and you’re asking me if you can talk.” He was in a blind panic and darted his eyes around the room. “Well, talk.”

“I’m a fucking twat, I know this. It’s inexcusable what I did—what I put you through—it was selfish—I’m so fucking selfish—I can’t fucking deal with this kind of stuff, and I’m a bloody twat for leaving you because I can’t handle it. It’s cowar—I’m a coward! I can’t face shit—and I love you so much, and I left you… I’m so sorry, please believe me. I’m such a twat—"

“Shut up, please—you’re giving me a migraine.” You held up a single finger as you adjusted yourself in bed. “Look, I don’t even know how early it is, and you know how much I hate mornings.”

“I know, but…I didn’t want to wait until the afternoon to talk to you.”

“That’s fair.”

“It’s 10:30 by the way.”

“Did you practice that speech in your car, or did you just wing it?”

While you were in bed with Gemma, watching King of the Hill on her iPad, Harry resided to his office where he spent much of the evening hunched over his journal, scrawling out endless messages to you about how much of a wanker he is, and by the time the sun began to rise, he had his eyes in his hand and began waiting for an appropriate time to come and see you.

“I…thought a little bit about it, yeah.”

“You really hurt me, alright? It’s not something I can just forget because you said you were sorry. When I needed you the most, you weren’t there. What kind of partner is that?” He stood silent in his spot; his hands dug deep into his trousers. Suddenly, he was a little boy again getting scolded by his mother. “I had your mom, I had Gemma, but not you. The only person I needed. I get this wasn’t part of the plan, and we got our hearts broken, but that doesn’t give you the right to run off because you can’t handle seeing me upset.”

Olivia stretched her limbs out over the covers, purring against the sheets.

“I appreciate you coming, I really do. This isn’t something I can just forget and move on from. I want to work on this, but it’s going to take time… I still love you though.”

*

September 19, 2019 Los Angeles, California

“Your shirt looks like amebae under a microscope.”

He stifled a grunt, looking down at his shirt with concentration, and every so subtly did you see him glance swiftly at the bathroom mirror. “I’m surprised you even know what ameba are.”

“Or it looks like those eye floaties you get, but…colorful, you know?”

“Will you stop bullying me?”

“Only when you tell me how much you paid for that shirt.”

For a second, and you saw it flash through his eyes, he considered telling you, but figured that was a fight for a different afternoon. His silence was all the answer you needed. You nodded and left the room.

He found himself eminently lucky that you even agreed to accompany him to Los Angeles, but it was under the one condition that he takes you to In-N-Out whenever you oh so politely asked. Though, after you harassed him over his attire that morning, he was undecided to change his mind.

He didn’t.

You did, however, apologize and say he looked like a sexy ameba, and he then locked you out of the car for five minutes.

To be fair, you only accepted his offer to travel with him because you missed your friends, and they were the one thing that remained untouched from the summer. You felt the emptiness being carried with you with every passing day, and all the books and websites said that was normal, but finding distractions and hobbies to pass the time was coming close to becoming a sport – way too laborious for you.

You even found yourself searching “Losing interest in things I used to like” and you were considerably shocked to discover the rabbit hole Google led you down.

You didn’t consider yourself depressed, not by any means. Sure, you were sad most of the day, you never really gained your appetite back, you stopped painting and watching King of the Hill and Breaking Bad, and if you didn’t spend the entire day sleeping, you would lay in bed with your eyes closed, praying you would eventually grow tired enough to slip away for a little while.

Harry even signed you both up for couple’s therapy.

“This is for people who cheated on each other and refuse to break up!”

But regardless of your inherent fussing, he refused to back down. Where the two of you stood mentally, this was your last chance at redemption, and he wasn’t letting you back out. The way he saw it, if you didn’t make an effort to try and fix what was broken, there was no hope for the relationship moving forward.

That was when you realized the outcome was more than just losing your baby.

After the first session, you made an appointment with your physician, who later prescribed not only you with anti-depressants, but Harry as well. Your world was spinning madly, in every which direction, but at least you had your boy holding on madly with you.

The first time you encountered a fan since the summer happened on that very first outing in Los Angeles when you and Harry were arriving for your lunch plans. (Not In-N-Out, but you let it go.) If it had been solely one girl, you trust that you could easily fight her off if given the opportunity. I mean, sure, you didn’t fight off that other girl, but she had the upper hand, or so you tell yourself.  

But, no, she was with a group, and you felt the urge to vomit.

“I’m going to throw up—” You propel yourself in the other direction, ready to sprint back to the parking lot, and thinking back on it now, you can’t even remember the last time you even sprinted. “Let me sit in the car—let’s get the food to go—I don’t care—”

This is why we should have fucking gone to In-N-Out.

“Pet—you can’t run forever, okay? I know it’s fucking scary, but you have to face this one day.” You remember the exact quote Harry was reciting from the therapist, just with less profanity. “I won’t let them do shit, alright?”

They did stop him, of course, and you took a few steps away so they could have their moment, but you made sure he was still an arm grab away incase—

“Hey,” You had disregarded the voice, opening a game on your phone – Numberzilla – before you registered someone had spoken to you. “I’m sorry to bother you…”

At first glance, you could easily discern she was unsure of herself. She likely had a rush of confidence, and now standing blankly in front of you, she has lost all certainty. From behind, you peered up to find Harry staring at the back of her head, already inching into his pocket for his keys.

“Oh,” you gulp, clutching your phone in your hands. “Hi…”

“I just…was just hoping that you were doing okay.”

Doing okay, because of—

Your heart thudded to a stop.

“You alright?” Harry was at your side, and the young girl took a step back.

“Sorry—I’m sorry.” She gave a weak smile. “I just wish the best for you two.”

She was already walking off when you mustered up the words to thank her, but you were doubtful she heard you. Harry’s arm was in a tight grip around your backside, with his keys hung in his hand, ready to run.

The two of you cancelled your lunch plans and hit In-N-Out instead.

*

September 24, 2019 Los Angeles, California

“Is it okay?”

It was a Tuesday; you had a clear agenda for the day, and it was a little after lunch that you found yourself aimlessly clicking through channels, with your boyfriend sitting down by your feet, flipping through the pages of your current read.

You had felt the undeniable ache since the night before, and you thought maybe if you just ignore it, it’ll go away, but it only lingered, taunting you with its insatiable lust.

The itch you don’t want to scratch.

Your heart was racing, your palms were sweaty, and it didn’t matter how tightly you squeezed your legs together, nothing could rid you of this.

“H,” You poked his leg with your toe. “Bear with me on this, okay?” He didn’t respond, but he carefully set your book back down on the coffee table. “Will you have sex with me real quick?”

“I…you want to?”

“Do you have condoms? Because if not, I can take care of this myself—”

“Yes, yes, I have them. I have—they’re upstairs.”

And there you were, minutes later, his cock was inside of you, and he slowly rolled his hips carefully into you, dipping his toes into the water. He physically cannot express how much this meant to him, and how long he hid this desire deep in his gut, because God forbid he be the one to bring it up. If he had to wank off in the bathroom in between commercial breaks until you decided you were ready to have sex again, he’d find a way to tolerate it.

“Is it okay?” He choked out in between breaths; only minutes in, and he was cradling dangerously on the edge.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s okay. It feels good.” You readjusted your hips, stretching your leg out to wrap around his. “Maybe a little faster?”

“I’ll cum in a second—” He shook his head, halting his movements when that tiny, little knot inched closer to unravelling. “Just give me a sec.”

“Babe—”

“Hold—” He reached his arm under the bend of your knee, lifting it up as he thrusted back into you. “Fuck—”

He was relentless; you stretched your hand down between your thighs, rubbing and kneading that small bundle of nerves as his cock hit deep within you with no sign of letting up.

It had been way too long.

“Harry—fuck—” It was deep, pulsating, and you lifted your hips up as your orgasm radiated throughout your every limb, tightening around his cock as he thrusted hard, giving you one last nudge of pleasure as his grip tightened around the sheets, fucking into you with a lasting, animalistic moan, cumming thick ropes into you.

You made him access the condom, triple checking there wasn’t a hole unbeknownst to either of you, and after a fourth overview, he politely asked you if he could throw away his used condom now.

You would be okay this time.

He ran a bath a little later, and you submerged your body deep within the bubbles, letting them rest at your jawline. You felt like you lost your virginity all over again.

“H?” You asked, rubbing the bubbles up your arm.

“Yes, pet?”

“Do you want to get married?”

The question caught him, and he cracked his eyes open with curiosity. “I want to, yeah. You know I do.”

The conversation had only been passed around once, when you were terribly drunk and crying over some sob film where the boyfriend dies before they have a chance to elope despite their parent’s protests. The film stuck with you for weeks, and you always wondered, if you knew you were with the one, why wait? Why wait for tragedy to strike?

“Let’s get married.”

He chuckled, wiggling his toes against yours. “You’re mental.”

“No, I’m serious. Why wait? Seriously? I love you, you love me, and we aren’t getting any younger.”

“Pet, you’re 24.”

“And only getting older!”

“So, you want to find some Little White Chapel in Vegas and get hitched?” He leaned up a little, a smirk stretching out on his face.

“I want a real wedding, of course, someday, but right now…let’s do it. Let’s go to Vegas or Miami or somewhere, and just do it.”

It took an hour, but he eventually agreed, and was on the phone with Jeff to arrange a flight and hotel. The next day, the two of you ran around downtown to every consignment shop in the city, looking for a white dress – not as hard as you thought it would be – a diamond ring – a little tough, but you found one for cheap – and a nice pair of heels in your size – a lot harder; you bought a size too big by accident.

And in 24 hours, you would be marrying your best friend.

*

Miami, FL September 26, 2019

“Shit…fuck, we’re actually doing this?” You stuffed a wad of tissue paper into the toe box of your heels – one size too big – and stood up to test them for a final time. “No going back?”

“Cold feet, pet?”

“No, I’m fucking—it’s humid in here.” You swing around to face him, fanning yourself off with a loose People magazine, and its then you see him standing smugly in his slacks, a proper grin etching itself across his face.

“Cold feet—the expression, pet…”

“Harry—fuck, I’m nervous. My shoes are too big, I feel a pimple forming on my chin, and I’m pretty sure the wire in my bra broke ten minutes ago because something is stabbing my tit.”

“Well, I think your tits look great.”

“You can thank that bombshell bra I bought years ago for that.” You stroll back over to the sofa and toss the magazine carelessly onto the coffee table. “Did you have them sign an MDMA?”

“NDA, and Jeff got that covered.” Harry combs back a piece of his hair, that one strand that always gives him trouble. “Hold onto this for me?” You watch as he removes his H ring, and strolls over to the sofa. “Put it in your bra—can’t lose much in there.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“And you’re my wife.” His fucking smug grin falls over him like a tidal wave, and you wish you could just slap it right off his face.

“No, I’m not.”  

“Give it a couple minutes.”

Your heart hurled itself up into your esophagus, the tremorous pounding radiating all throughout your head to your toes. Harry appeared quite relaxed as he staggered to the full-length mirror to adjust his collar, and from the reflection, he caught your watchful stare.

“Your mom is going to be pissed.” You think back to Anne, and all the good she’s done for you, and you are now repaying her by having her miss her son’s wedding. “We’ll need to plan the real thing soon.”

“We’ll tell her when we want to tell her, but for now,” he swung around on his heel to face you, “This is about you and me…and the rest of our lives.”

You make a mental note to thank Niall later.

You think back to those years ago, and how you almost bailed on Niall that night to stay home and watch The Young and the Restless with your roommate. You weren’t thrilled to get that phone call, but as long as Niall agreed to pay for a couple drinks, you found it in yourself to put on a pair of pants and enjoy a night out. 

And maybe if you had inclined to stay home, your entire life would be a completely different world right now. Maybe you’d be in somebody else’s kitchen helping them prepare dinner, or on some lavish vacation with a guy you only met a month ago, or maybe you’d be alone in your apartment, binging a new show to pass the time you only let flutter by.

But you were here now, standing at an alter that smelled roughly of cigarettes and mildew, wearing shoes that were too big on you, in a dress that probably saw more weddings than you ever will, holding the hands of the man you were prepared to love for the rest of your life.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not the harassing, not the attack, not the stalking. It didn’t matter what anybody threw at you anymore; you were hard as fucking stone, and not a single person was going to damage what the two of you were building.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

[jay-and-dean]

Black Hole

Dean x Reader

Summary : She saved his life, and since then, she doesn’t want to live anymore... That doesn’t make sense...

Warnings : ANGST, like massive angst, mourning, mention of depression, thoughts about suicide and if miscarriage is a big issue for you, avoid this fic. Blood and hurt!Dean, hurt!Reader. SMUT, unprotected sex (you’re smarter than this). Fluff. 

Words : 9.3k

Note :  This is written is both Sam’s Pov and Reader’s Pov. Dream/flashbacks in italics. Hope you like this one, it was a lot of work <3

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

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Sam's Pov, Thursday

           What fucking happened down there...

           Hearing the calls in the nurse’s office just next door I sigh. The white lights of the hospital corridor burn my exhausted eyes. People come and go, passing by me with sad, kind looks.

           It's weird place, a hospital, especially in intensive care. Everyone standing here is either losing someone they love, has just lost them, or is hoping, praying, not to. They try to hold on to usual things, like buying a coffee from the vending machine, telling the person with them they miss a few coins, but they will give it back...

They will give it back...

Like anything like that mattered when the doctor can show up any moment, to tell you that you lost your wife, dad, kid... brother.

           Most of the time, they are not alone, and a sad smile appears on my face at the affection everywhere. Those friends there, they are hugging every five minutes, like the heat of each other's body could keep them safe, like puppies.

But I am…

Alone.

And I'm not losing someone, I'm losing two. The two most important people in my life, the only people that could actually warm me with their hugs.

           My brother, and the woman that I call my best friend, but that became like a sister to me, like a mother too when she watches what I eat or checks on the least tiny cuts I have twice a day. A tender smile appears on my face thinking of her protective tone.

           Of course, unlike those families around me, Death is one of my oldest friends. But if I lose them both. Really nothing is left.

             We were investigating a case, like we always do, a simple, missing person case. Nothing frightening for us, nothing worse than what we often had. We were having fun and I could even say that we were all pretty happy.

           Difficult to say for sure, because Y/n never talks about her feelings, hiding them to the world like she was afraid someone could use it to break her, or like she was ashamed.So, either she’s on the verge of tears -that never fall anyway- or dancing, she’s always just says she’s “Okay”.

           But she was annoying Dean all the way to Arizona, singing her songs loud in the car, living the lyrics with her whole body, kneeling on the seat to sing in my grunting brother’s ear, opening the windows to let half her body out of the car, her arms like hugging the rays of sunshine, putting her feet on the dashboard to feel the sun on her legs, making fun of me for trying to read about the case instead of relaxing... And it really looked like happiness to me.

           And Dean, the annoyed frown he tries to keep on his face when she’s doing all she can to make him crazy couldn’t last more than a few seconds, he was smiling. Smiling with his radiant hopeful smile. The one he had lost, the one she made come back. She has that effect on him, on us. Like we had been missing an annoying little sister to be finally happy...

             Then Y/n disappeared. How could that happen ? Dean and I looked for her under every rock, desperate and fighting each other, our fragile bubble of joy blowing up just like that.

           We couldn't sleep and Dean blamed himself and me.

           Then... he disappeared too.

           Probably one of the longest nights of my life, like the night after my brother went to Hell, like the night after Jess's death.

           They were found the day after in an alley of Phoenix, half dead from totally different wounds.

           She was holding him tight, bathing in his blood, covering his body with hers and his face with one hand. Probably to protect him from the burning sun, the docs told me...

           Her other hand was on his gun wound, like she had been pressing on it. She clearly did all she could to save him. But he was in aseptic shock...

           She has lost so much blood, the doctor said it's impossible that she could have stand, she was severely dehydrated and had anemia... Yet, she's the one that dragged them out of the building.

           My phone rings, waking me from my daydream.

"Agent Bonham ?" the police officer says on the phone.

"Yes."

"I have the videos from inside of the basement. It's pretty weird, I'll send it to you. That colleague of yours, she's a real wolf ! I hope she wakes up..."

"Thank you agent" I state, hanging up.

           Still no news from Cas...

           I grab my laptop and headphones. Tell me what happened there...

 Reader's Pov, another time.

             My eyes roam the library. When I finally find him, a wide smile automatically appears on my face. He smiles back. This wrinkled radiant smile that always makes my enamored heart melt.

           Walking his way to me, he keeps staring right at my face and I bite my lip. The second he reaches me, his arms are around me.

"I missed you" he says.

"In only half an hour ?"

"You know I did."

His lips find my cheek, and linger here like they do when they can't reach their favorite places, because we're in public.

"You two are so cute, it's almost disgusting" Donna laughs and I can feel Dean's lips turning to a smile against my skin.

"We're adorable" he hums.

           My pride is radiating of me, I know that, I also know I should let go of him from time to time, but I don't care what people think. I have no idea how I could be so lucky, I don't even remember how I got there, how he fell in love with me after all those years ; but I stopped caring about that a long time ago.

I look up to see his face. One year soon. It will be one year that my life is in order.

My Dean is mine, he said forever.

"What do you say, we find a more private place ?" he whispers.

"More private ? this is our home baby... More private than our secret bunker ?" I chuckle slipping the back of my index under his shirt like I often do, just to feel the very soft skin of his waist.

"Yeah like our bedroom..."

"Our friends came across the country to see us" I whisper, pointing at Garth with my chin.

"Yeah... And they saw us... They won't miss us if we disappear like an hour" he purrs close to my ear, his hips moving closer to make me feel him growing hard through his jeans.

I take a deep inhale, enjoying his smell and the hoarse sound in his voice.

"I guess..." I smile.

 Sam's Pov, Thursday.

             The black and white images show nothing for a few hours, according to the clock on it, so I accelerate them. When Dean appears, he's holding his gun, moving quickly to the next room, the one with no cameras.

           The room where Y/n was kept, a room where they found the DNA of all the missing people, but no lead to the killer.

           Then nothing for about an hour, until the door opens again.

It's her. Barely standing, dragging Dean, already unconscious. She's struggling so hard it's painful to see, falling heavily on the floor, she starts to sob, and I can hear her whines of despair and pain even through the mute video.

           She crawls on him and tries to press on his wound, bending to talk close to his ear. That's when I realize she's trying not to make too much noise. She's so gentle with him, so cautious. She's holding him, putting light kisses on his forehead and saying things. To him ? To herself ? Prayers ?

           Even on the black and white images, I can see how pale she is. Panting and her eyes rolling when she moves too fast.

           She manages to drag him more, to the foot of the iron stairway that leads out, and makes a pause. She takes off her flannel, struggling with every movement she makes, like it was the one move impossible to do. She slips it under him and tie it around him, to slow the bleeding.

           Then she seems to give up. Sitting behind him, she takes his head on her lap and starts to sob, one hand on his cheek, the other on her eyes. Her lips finally form a word I can read : Sorry. Then another one : Dean.

Sorry, Dean... Sorry.

           A tear rolls on my face at her despair, at this incredible battle she's fighting against renouncement. I am so grateful she's so strong.

           After only a few minutes clinging at his shirt on his bloody chest, crying and putting her crackled lips on his forehead and temples, she moves again. She would have given up if she was alone, but leaving Dean... She's just has stubborn as we are.

           She fails getting up three times. And when she manages standing, she starts to drag my almost 200lbs brother on the first step of the stairs...

           It takes two hours before she reaches the door outside of which we found them. Two hours that I have the chance to watch in accelerate... She didn't. She suffered and struggled beyond her own limits...

And now, after giving everything in her to save Dean, she won't wake up.

             I get up and walk to my brother's room. Sitting on the corner with a stupid coffee I got from this stupid vending machine ; I had the change, no one could have given coins to me anyway…

I look at him so pale, under those hose and tubes, dialing Cas number again.

“Cas, please, I don’t know if you got my 21 other messages… I’m just… Dean is… maybe he will live, but Y/n… They say she might not... It’s like she had given up… You don’t hear my prayers… You don’t hear your phone… I… Call me back.”

If they die…

           Suddenly, Dean starts to choke, the tubes in his throat making it impossible to breath. His arms search everywhere in panic, the machines ringing.

“HELP ! HELP !” I call, reaching him.

 Reader’s Pov, another time

             He’s panting, sweaty, his elbow holding his body, his head in his hand. I reach a drop of sweat rolling on his temple and wipe it with a lazy smile.

“You…” his breathing is short. “You know how to cheer me up.”

I bend my neck a little to kiss his chin, happy to see the worry gone from his face.

“Cas didn’t mean it, Dean… You were a little hard on him and… you know he does his best…”

He sighs and kisses my lips, his heavy breathing tickling me from his nose.

“I’m sorry I get so angry” he whispers, his hand finding my breast again, massaging it slowly and bending to put a wet kiss on it.

“I know you by heart… You often confuse hurt and sadness with anger, baby, it’s because you had to be so strong so young…”

“Mh… I’m just a stubborn jerk” he opens his mouth to suck at the delicate skin under my breast, moving to place himself between my legs again. “But you always find a way to make it sound cool” he chuckles, wiggling to spread my thighs with his hips.

“Literally everything is cool about you Dean” I kiss his shoulder and lift my knees, giving him the access he seeks : home.

“I’ll talk to him” he nibbles at my swollen lips. “Mh… We made a mess.”

I smile, my hands trying to rub is sweaty back, but sticking on his skin. He’s half hard again, his soft cock snuggling between my soaked, dripping with cum, folds.

“You want it again Dean ?”

“Little Dean can’t get enough, but if you’re tired of me, I can go take a shower and let you sleep” he murmurs, already biting at my ear, his huge body caging me in that way I love so much.

“I’m never tired of you, Love” I state. “I will never be… I need you baby, come home…”

He pushes in slowly, with more ease than the first two times, but less hunger. He’s not fully hard yet, and he’s in no hurry.

This is not about pleasure like the first time was ; this is not about passion, like the second. This is just about being together.

“Good because I’ll never leave you” he hums, pushing deeper, his powerful hand finding my jaw in a possessive but smooth way.

 Sam’s Pov, Friday

             Dean’s walking painfully, holding to his IV stand because I forbid him to rip it off of him, he needs the ABs, the doctor said ; he needs it or he will die…

“Son of a bitch” he grunts. “Why did they put her so far from my room…”

“Easy Dean…” I try to slow him.

I know he’s worried, terrified even, but what he will find in this room won’t help him. And he doesn’t know yet how much this will hurt.

           He finally enters the room and stops. Here it is, the heartbreak.

“Oh God, Y/n…” he grunts, getting closer to her broken body.

           She’s pale as snow, her lips so white it looks like she was dead. Her body is covered in bruises, her cheeks hollow, her under eyes light purple…

           He gets closer and his shaky hand barely dares touching her face.

“She almost died of exhaustion, of blood loss, and of dehydration and hunger… The mystery is, even with the water and vitamins… She doesn’t come back, like she had given up, her organs are shutting down” I murmur, knowing every word I say is killing him.

“Given up ?” he shakes his head. “She loves life ! Y-you know her Sammy !”

I nod. I had about the same reaction when the docs explained it. And I tried talking to her… But she keeps getting worse and worse...

“What happened Dean ?” I dare now the doctors stopped giving Dean pills to sleep, because of how restless he was.

           He sits on the chair next to her bed in a grunt.

“It’s a Djinn” he sighs. “I found her and… she was tied to this bed, being freaking bled. And before I could reach her, the bastard showed up and… I was ready to fight him but, there was another one, and he used my own gun to shoot me” his eyes search her face, like he had no idea what happened next. “I passed out… If I…”

“You couldn’t know” I try, knowing my brother is listing all the things he could have done different in his head.

 Reader’s Pov, another time

             I get out of the shower and put a towel around me as I can. Taking cream to put it on my hands and face before I walk to my bedroom.

           Entering it, I smile.

           Dean is listening to music, his headphones on his ears, his toes dancing at the top of his crossed feet.

           I close the door behind me and it makes a violent gunshot sound. I jump a little, looking back at the door making such a loud unexpected sound but everything seems right. Maybe my mind is just playing tricks.

           He opens his eyes and smiles, not taking the headphones off yet. So I walk to the end of the bed, putting only one of my knees on it. I let the towel fall.

           His pupils dilate, it always does. And even now, I can feel his love for my body irradiate of him. Just like I can see his love for me when we’re just talking, when I support him, when I make fun of him, even when we’re apart…

           I like that he still wants me so bad when even I struggle to recognize my own body. With those stretch marks on my lower belly, with the light blue veins appearing on my breasts. I put my arms on the side of my body and wait for him to move.

“I did that” he purrs, putting his headphones on the side of his bed, and moving closer.

“You did… And without my consent” I smile when he puts a loving hand on my stomach.

“Nature did things good” he sighs, putting a kiss on my swollen belly. “Because I would have never dared asking, and you never would have agreed.”

“I would have agreed to anything for you, you know that” I smile, my hand in his hair.

“Do you regret it sometimes ?” he frowns, his scruff tickling the side of my baby bump.

“Regret ?” I look down, pulling slightly at his hair to make him look up. “Baby… You wanted to be a father, I would have had regrets hearing that when we are old and you never said it.”

“I thought it couldn’t happen in this life, and you made it pretty clear that kids weren’t your thing” he sighs.

“It can, Dean, it will be complicated, but our little Bean will be loved so much… That’s all that matters, right ?” I smile tenderly. “And carrying your child, my love… It’s just natural to me” he puts his large hands on my lower back and starts massaging it softly. “And…” I chuckle. “Let’s be honest, with all those coming deep inside of me… even with birth control… it was going to happen…”

           Suddenly, a groan that sounds like Dean echoes behind me and I look back with a frown.

“What is it baby ?” he asks, looking where I’m staring.

But nothing seems anormal until I hear another whine, a pained one, and a beg of my name.

“Did you hear that ?” I ask, but my Dean frowns and shrugs.

“What Y/n ?”

“It’s like you were… in pain ?” I say, knowing how weird it sounds.

“I’m really good, maybe you need rest, baby” he assures me, getting up.

But goosebumps appear along my spine. Something is wrong, maybe something supernatural.

“Y/n… Please Sunshine… wake up…” I hear but Dean’s lips are not moving.

“Sunshine ?” I repeat, confused. “I remember that nickname…”

“Baby, are you okay ?” my boyfriend worries.

“You used to call me Sunshine” I state.

“Yes” he nods. “Now I call you baby. Do you miss it ?”

“When did you stop ?” I frown, searching his face.

“I don’t remember, baby” he sincerely answers and something cold hits my skin.

“Me neither…” I search his beautiful face. “I liked this nickname…”

“I can call you that all you want, Sunshine” he says and I frown.

It doesn’t sound right and… Why are my wrists suddenly bruised ?

           I put my hand on my belly in a protective gesture, trying to calm for the sake of the little Winchester treasure growing inside of me…

 Sam’s Pov, saturday

             The doctor keeps explaining how her liver is shutting down for no reason, and I can see the look in Dean’s eyes.

           He’s standing straight. His body strongly holding him, when his soul is clearly crumbling. Cas still didn’t answer and there is now no chance medicine can save her.

           They advised us to say goodbye.

           And once more… How absurd it is ?

Saying goodbye to someone you’re not ready to let go, and when ? In a few minutes ? Hours ? Days ? What if we say goodbye and she lives another week. I’m dizzy, and I have no idea how to be there for my brother, when the world is crashing down around me, I don’t know this kind of hell, this absurd, chaotic hell.

How do people do that ? Say goodbye to people still alive… Loosing someone slowly with the hands in the pockets and that stupid bleach scent mixed with bad coffee.

“I WILL KILL HIM !” Dean yells the second the doctor closes the door to give us some space.

“Dean…” I try but he is clenching his fists so hard his knuckles are white.

“I will find a way… I will…”

“Dean…” I repeat, knowing he could slaughter all Heaven’s angel if it bought her back right now.

“No Sammy, you don’t understand… I… I would sell my soul if it was still an option… I… I need to…” he puts both his hands on each side of his head, struggling to think though panic.

“Don’t say that please” I whisper. “I can’t lose the two of you.”

“Sam, Dean” Cas suddenly appears.

And before I can register his presence, Dean jumps on him.

“She could have DIE !” my brother yells pushing him against the wall violently.

“Dean !” I try to grab him by the shoulder but his rage makes his stronger than he usually is.

“Dean… I came as soon as I can…”

“WHAT WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN HER” Dean yells and I try to hush him.

“I was held prisoner, Dean… How could you thing I wouldn’t come right away for Y/n” Castiel grunts, his voice low and for a short while, they just search each other face, like they were trying to decide what to think.

           Dean lets go of the angel and eyes him from head to toe.

“What happened ?”

“I fell in a trap” Cas sighs. “I handled it.”

“Cas… Please” my brother’s voice suddenly breaks, a big single tear falling heavily on his hospital clothing ; because, well, we all know what’s under his anger…

           I stay where I am, watching my angel friend walk to her bed, a poignant guilt strangling me. Why an angel in her room, and not next door…

           Dean doesn’t seem to care about that right now, his insisting eyes going from the angel to our Y/n with a mix of hope, impatience and terror.

           When Castiel frowns, Dean grabs is arm strongly.

“What is it, Cas ?” he grunts.

With two fingers on her forehead, the angel frowns, even grunting in effort.

“What…” I take a step forward, something seems wrong.

“She’s… She’s fighting me” Cas states, his light finally bathing her.

“Fighting you ?” Dean gasps.

           The angel takes his hand away and nods with a strange light in his eyes, something sad, or sorry. Something worrying.

“I healed her body but… her soul is…”

“Her soul ?” Dean asks, a whine of despair hidden in his voice.

“She didn’t want to heal… The damages are unexpected. Her heart is broken” Castiel states.

“Her heart ?” I start but she moves and Dean bends on her.

“Y/n ? Sunshine ? Do you hear me ?” his eagerness hurts me deep, what if we can’t fix her ?

           She slowly opens her eyelids and he smiles to her but she looks away, her eyes empty.

“Y/n ?” he tries. “Are you in pain ? Talk to me.”

“No” she states weakly, her voice hoarse.

He bends to put a kiss on her head but she doesn’t react. No corner smile with her hand on his cheek as she always does.

She just doesn’t move at all.

 Reader’s Pov, Saturday evening

             They finally left.

           I let the burning tears run on my face. I’m not really crying just… letting them fall at last, overflowing.

           The hole in my chest feels like it is devouring everything around me, like a black hole ; and I’m not even trying to hold myself together anymore. Dean is safe... I should just have died.

           The room ceiling is the only distraction I need, the nurse offered TV, Sam offered his laptop… Why would I want to see what happens in the world ? Don’t they know ? It doesn’t matter anymore, the Sun can stop rising in the morning, what’s the point ?

           Someone, something, life, fate, whatever… ripped my heart out and I realize now that the novels were lying. Having their heart shattered, it’s not romantic or beautifully dark, this kind of shit… It’s not about crying with ice cream on the lap, it’s not about listening to sad music…

           That hole, it’s just a cold, cruel, lonely emptiness.

           It’s despair.

           I dare sliding my fingers on my flat belly, and the hole grows the size of the Universe. My little Bean is gone, my tiny miracle vanished and the man I love is not even here to hold my hand.

           The man I love… He never existed. Dean is alive, the strong man I fell in love with, the hero I worship from afar, he will live.

           But my Dean… The man who loved me, the one who built me, moments after moments, my partner, my best friend, my lover… He’s dead. I will never see him again, touch him again, hear him calling me baby.

           And I didn’t even say goodbye.

           I flatten my hand on my stomach, wallowing in the absence, because it’s a way to channel the pain. He never put a baby in me. His cum never invade me, driven by love, to force the ultimate marking on my devoted body. Our genes never danced together to create a whole new generation of Winchester.

           I will never know if baby Bean will have his eyes after all.

           It all never happened…

           Yet for me it did, I lived a year in that perfect dream. A year with the man I love. A year in my Dean's arms... And I lost it.

           My man, and my baby died. And I just don’t want to go on without them.

           If at least it was… I don’t know, a car accident, if I had died with them, if anything had a fucking sense.

           But fate is laughing at her own cruelty because for me they died, but in this life they just never existed. No one will bring me cake, no funeral, no widow shadow to hide into. And as if it wasn't enough... I have to live with Dean.

           Turning on my side, I let the tears fall, torturing myself with the memory of my man holding me from behind to stroke my belly, with the memory of his soft laugh in my ear, of his lips grazing my neck.

           I am so cold.

 Sam's Pov, monday morning

             My eyes stare at the ground while Dean's voice goes louder.

           He just can't hear what the doctor is saying, she won't be transferred in psychiatry ; and what does that even mean that her hormones are too high ? She will just heal, he keeps repeating. She just needs to come back home.

           The truth is I'm not so sure of that. This life can really be too much, and Y/n, she doesn't eat, she barely talks. She seems broken beyond what just time can heal... I remember what it is like to be locked inside myself, and I know that Dean, with all his willingness, won't be enough this time.

"She's coming home !" he states, and the doctor warns him.

"Please, if she doesn't eat, or if she shows suicidal risks, bring her back."

           My eyes stare at the floor, still, when Dean is talking to her, telling her he won't let her alone here, and that he will bring her home, with her stuffs, in her room.

           But some tears fall on her face at those last words and I can't help wondering what happened to her, what did the Djinn showed her during those three days, that could break her like this.

           My eyes are still in the ground when my brother help her in her bed, after he convinced her to take a shower, hoping it would help. She did, and her eyes are still lost in a void that seem to eat her soul.

           When Dean begged, she ate something, she bit in the sandwich he had made with all his affection, and she drank the fresh orange juice he made for her...

           But the void is still devouring her, and her eyes are empty and tired, this kind of tired that is not lack of sleep.

           Before Dean gets out the room, he smiles at her, a tender and kind smile, and he kisses her temple, swearing he will never leave her. But she doesn't answer.

           I finally look at him, when he closes the door and burst in tears like I have never seen him. His back slides on the wall and it breaks my heart in a horrible pain.

"I-I can't..." he says. "Sammy I need her to come back... I need her... please... Please I need her."

I have to sit on the floor to hold my brother in my arms. He's so broken, we all are.

"She doesn't even look at me Sam... I need her..."

 Reader's Pov, Wednesday

             Will I forget ?

           I heard people dealing with mourning struggled to keep memories of the smell, because that's the one thing you can't capture forever. Photos, videos… It can stay forever, yet smell always fades from clothes and sheets eventually.

But I have his smell all around me. No photos of our life together, of our trip to the beach, of that time we took drunk pics in the Dean cave... No videos of his birthday when I made him a giant pie… My phone is empty. But his smell…

           His voice I hear every day. I even have those little kisses on my cheeks or temples, but it's not from the man who loved me so much. And I can't borrow one of his shirts to cry on it, he wouldn't understand.

           How could I be so stupid ? Thinking Dean Winchester loved me back. And that much ? Like he could love me to the point of carving my name on the table next to him. Like he could trust me with his body like he did. Like he could be happy with me...

           Dean. The man that deserves the world and more. A soul so complex, a body so precious. How could a boring girl with an average face and an oversized temper could make his life complete ?

           I remember this time he had a bad nightmare, it was just after I found out I was pregnant ; he dreamed that Ben tried to kill the baby, and that he had to shoot him to protect his little Bean. He was sweating in my arms, telling me his dream... And while I was stroking his hair, he opened up about all that, about being a bit disappointed, when Lisa told him he was not Ben's father, about how he struggled with this feeling…

And about what it was, discovering that "normal life" didn't make him happy, after thinking hunting was everything wrong in his life for so long...

           This never happened either. Dean never trusted me that much. And he probably didn't feel that way at all, my brain made up this conversation, right ?

           How pathetic is it ?

           I’m so lost.

           Each time I try to focus on parts of it all to not become crazy, I just feel the stab of missing Dean’s kisses so much and how empty my belly is.

             I’m so angry at everything. Why was it on me to hear Dean’s screams for help, why was it on me to wake up from my own personal Heaven ? By myself ? To basically kill “my Dean” and his son growing inside of me. Why did I have to do that myself ?

Isn’t it the most cruel thing fate could come up with ?  

           No one should ! No one should have to choose between love in their life, and the life of the person they love.

           Forcing myself out of this was the most painful thing I ever did. And yes, I hate the fucking Universe for making me do this !

Fuck it ! Fuck them ! FUCK EVERYTHING ! I scream in my head, curling up in my bed. That’s so fucking unfair ! This is the one thing I wouldn’t have ignored, the one and only fucking thing !

Dean in danger.

I would do everything for him… Even losing him.

             Sam enters the room and I stop sobbing, choking on my tears with the greatest efforts to hold back the screams in my lungs.

“Y/n…” he closes the door behind him and sits on my bed. “It’s been a few days and…”

A few days… You have no idea Sammy.

“Yeah…” I just answer, knowing more words would make the dam break.

“I know you don’t want to talk about what happened” he sighs. “Probably because of how painful it is… But” his large hand pushes a strand of my messy hair out of my face. “We can help… Please let us at least try, Y/n. Dean is…”

“What ?” I ask a little too fast.

“Dean is not… he’s not okay, Y/n… And I know I have no right to put that on you, because you probably are already fighting the best you can” he sighs and my hand grab the sheets in pain. “You’re our best friend but… Dean he… He needs you…”

“He doesn’t” I whisper, pieces of my broken heart coming out of my throat.

“Please, Y/n… Look into his eyes, listen to his voice, I know you can read him like a book.”

He gets up and sighs, his hand gently lingering in my back.

           I want to die.

           That is the truth. And the truth is ugly. Since I woke up, I have no will to be alive at all.

           I want to join my love, but it is stupid because he is not dead, he just never loved me.

           Now I didn’t let everything fall apart to save him, only to make him suffer after. I have two choices : Die from the pain, or focus on Dean.

           The real one, the one that never loved me, but who has the undeniable advantage to exist, not just in my head.

           I told my Dean… the one that called himself my man, that I could suffer a thousand Hells for him. Well here it is…

           It is now.

           The first time I command my body to get out of bed, it doesn’t respond. At all.

           Why lungs are crushed in my chest, my muscles are sore, my bones seem cold and that black hole…

           I will have to live with that black hole, but I couldn’t live with making Dean suffer in any kind of way. He already lost so much, he won’t lose me.

 Sam’s Pov, Wednesday evening

             Dean’s eyes are glued to the bottom of his glass of whiskey. He didn’t eat today, at least I didn’t see him eat anything… Drink, that, yes.

           Each time he finally moves, suddenly restless, it’s because he thinks he found a way to “fix Y/n”.

           Spells, fairies, deals, the Goddess of happiness, even a spell that makes you see clearly people’s memory… He explored everything.

           But nothing sounds good enough, so he sits back at the table and empties bottles, his eyes red and his skin pale. Thinking at how he could have lost his best friend… Or maybe more.

           I see it now, and I’m pretty sure I’m right : Dean loves her. He loves her not like I do.

           When I’m about to ask him that, to finally dare suggesting he is in love, to take the risk he will get mad, break things or close up even more…

She enters the kitchen.

           She seems so weak standing in the door frame, so broken, her leaner legs pale, discreet light hair growing back on it, her oversized t-shirt falling lazily on her thighs, her hair messy, hiding her tired face.

           She’s adorable and I’m pretty sure my brother’s heart is beating so hard it threatens to open his chest.

“Y/n…” he says, getting up to take her arm, afraid she would fall or faint.

He helps her down the stairs and brings her to the table with a tenderness I have never seen him show.

“I’m so glad to see you” I say putting a hand on her arm cautiously. “Do you want to drink or eat something ?”

She looks around, her eyes staring at the bottle of whiskey, then at Dean.

“I… I could use a soda” she murmurs.

           I get up and turn around to look at them again, Dean pushes some strands of hair from her face and she looks at him, her eyes full of tears.

           When I bring the coke, she’s wiping away some tears.

“Thank you, Sammy” she says, clearing her voice.

Then she takes a sip and a deep breath. My brother has no idea what to say so he stares at her, visibly resisting the urge to take her in his arms.

“I… I’m sorry I w-worry you…” she finally speaks, needing all her strength to talk.

“Sunshine, just tell us how we can help you” Dean states, taking her hand in his.

“Sunshine…” she repeats in a whisper with a big tear falling on the table.

“I-I’m sorry” he frowns. “You used to like this nickname…”

“I do” her voice breaks. “Guys… I… I will need some time… I…” she closes her eyes like she was in great pain. “I lost something… V-very precious to me…” she wipes her face and lift her eyes to my brother. “But I don’t want you to suffer because of me” she whispers, bending to put a loving kiss on Dean’s hand.

He has to use the back of his other hand to stop the tears falling on his face at her gesture.

“Do you want to tell us what you lost, Y/n ?” I ask calmly. “Maybe we can help.”

 Reader’s Pov, that same Wednesday evening

             “Do you want to tell us what you lost, Y/n ?” I ask calmly. “Maybe we can help.”

I smile through the tears at the irony of his words. And in a reflex, I put my hand on my flat stomach, like I used to do to protect my own little treasure.

“You were…” Sam’s eyes widen. “That’s why your hormonal rates were so weird…”

I look at him and feel Dean’s hand leave mine.

“Sunshine…” I can feel him searching my face even though I’m looking down. “You w-were pregnant ?”  

I nod, the black hole in my guts devouring all the light in my vision, as I remember his voice saying “Baby, you’re pregnant ?” in the deep pitch dark of my memory.

“Why didn’t you tell me ?” his voice is shaking. “H-how did you get… I didn’t see you with…”

“Wh-what ?” I shake my head. “No Dean, I…”

He thinks I was really pregnant, and that maybe I lost it because of the blood loss and all. I look up to meet is eyes, somehow finding courage in the green of his iris. Because it’s the eyes of the man I love, it is his eyes, and they make me stronger.

“No Dean… In the…” How am I supposed to call it ? “Dream…”

“Oh…” he says, his eyebrows joining in a pained frown.

“S-so your big dream is to have…”

“No” I cut him. “It’s way more complicated than that. I- For me… It lasted a year. And…”

“A year ?” Sam gasps. “It usually doesn’t… I’m so sorry Y/n…”

           My eyes search Dean’s, they’re moving like he was reading something on the table. Then a silence falls on us but I still feel their warm affection.

           Just talking to them gives me the little strength I needed to at least try. I missed Dean, just Dean, not only my Dean or anything, but… this amazing man.

If I can’t fake it, if my heart keeps bleeding all over the place and my black hole threatens to touch them, I will just leave. I will lie, saying I found what could help so they worry less, and I will disappear. Cats hide to die, right ?

 Reader’s Pov, Friday morning

             I tried.

I tried with all is left of my heart.

           I got up at least twice a day, showered and ate, tried to talk a little when they checked on me. But the loss is becoming even more real as I’m starting to severely miss Dean’s touches.

           The more I find my friend again, the more my boyfriend seems far.

And I miss his kisses, his hands on my back, his nails gently scratching my skin. I miss the way he always randomly grazed my nipples through my clothes, knowing how sensible I am. I miss being able to scratch his scruff, to hold his hand, to kiss his freckles.

I miss his weight on me.

And I miss him inside of me…

Sometimes my hand just goes to him, and I have to stop myself from stroking his cheek or slip my fingers under his shirt.

Dean is just not mine.

 As he sits on my bed, I think of those times he crawled between my legs with a smile on his lips.

But he just sits there, with this caution like I could break and the bed dips a little.

Don’t bother I’m already broken.

           He looks at me and smiles, a sad expression on his beautiful face behind it. Giving me the sandwich he made, he takes place on the bed, like he does from time to time since I showed up in the kitchen, like he did very often before all of that.

           For him it was just a little more than a week ago, the last time he brought food in my bedroom to talk or watch a movie… For me it was more than a year ago. Because I though I was with him, but it was just our bedroom. It was different.

“They say it will be very sunny tomorrow” he states, his usually plumb lips forming a line.

I don’t care about sunny. The only source of light is you.

“Okay” I say, struggling to take a bite of the way to big sandwich.

“Maybe… maybe I could take you for a little ride, see the light a little. You love summer so much” he tries, his low voice falling on me like warm water in the shower.

He made me pregnant in his precious car, our shared cum kink finally winning when once more he came deep inside of me. It was a sunny day too, and his sweat was making his skin slippery as he nuzzled in my neck, groaning as he always did…

“No…” I grunt. “I’m sorry Dean, I’m not…”

And suddenly his fingers graze mine on my stomach, that’s when I notice I was stroking it again.

Stupid.

“Y/n…” he’s weighting his words now. “I have been thinking…” He rubs his neck, his eyes still on his hand touching my fingers. “Don’t… don’t get… offended but… If…” he takes a deep breath and my heart starts racing. “If you want a baby” He closes his eyes. “If it is what you need to be happy again… I… I could give one to you.”

My eyes widen and my breathing stops.

“Wh- what ?”

“I just… I’m sorry, I just thought… Listen. Maybe you want nothing to do with me… But I just… I would totally do that for you, whether you want me to be there after or forget it’s mine forever.”

“Dean…” I take his shaking hand in mine. “It’s not about the baby… I mean… Of course, I had time to… get used to that idea of having a baby… and it’s… yeah, so, so painful. But…” My voice breaks when I realize completely what he is offering me. “It is about the love…”

“Love ?” he almost whispers, holding my hand back in a loving gesture that makes me forget he’s not mine for a split second.

“Yeah…” I state, biting my lips.

“Was your dream like… Apple pie and baby showers ?” he murmurs and it seems like the room becomes smaller, but in the good way, I suddenly feel like in a pillow fort with the man I love.

“No” I chuckle. “You know me… I’m not really the baby shower type, baby… Deanie” I correct myself and the black hole seems to be burning now. But, as he doesn’t react, I continue. “It was just… all the same… the love on top.”

I fake a smile, hoping he won’t read my eyes.

“Oh” he looks up. “Hunting and everything ?”

“Yes, Dean. As you said… I was… I was pretty happy already you know... Sam and you, this adventure life… The only…” a single tear rolls on my cheek and his warm hand wipes it slowly. “I just had this radiant love. And I…” more tears come crushing on his fingers. “I miss him ! I… It’s like I had lost my husband or… All those memories, Dean.”

His eyes are wet, and he bites his lip.

“All those memories they seem so… so real and I have” I’m panting now, the pain crushing my lungs in the same time as talking to him feels like I was finally not so lonely. “I have this huge black h-hole in my heart… And” I start to be shaken by sobs as he takes me in his arms firmly, trying to help me hold together. “I crave his kisses… I-I crave everything s-so much… Everything hurts Dean…”

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through” he murmurs giving me the perfect comfort of his body around me, his face against the side of my head. “I’m here, Sunshine… I’m right here.”

           That’s when I feel his lips grazing my cheek. I look up and he lets them slowly drift to mine, in a shy move.

           My heart misses a broken beat. He licks his perfect mouth and keeps his face so close to mine, the pillow fort is warm now…

“I can give you kisses, and love and even a baby if you want” he says against my lips and I swallow hard. “I know I can’t give you what you lost. But l-let me try to fix what I can fix… Let me fill a little part of this hole in your heart” his lips claim mine like he did this his whole life, so naturally, like kissing me wasn’t an effort at all… Like he wanted this.

And I feel whole for a second.

“Yes” is all I can answer.

           His kisses are perfect, and my body react to them so strongly. Goosebumps and heart racing and heat…

           His knee bumps mine when he turns on the bed to face me, his hands firmly grabbing my face, fingers in my hair, and his tongue reaches mine.

           It’s like I could breathe for the first time after holding my breath for days… And it’s both so new and so natural.

           He pushes me on my back, his lips still devouring me, one of his hand only letting go of me to catch us by leaning on the mattress before we crash too fast.

“Dean…” I murmur when his lips let go of mine to kiss my neck.

His smell, his weight, his kisses…

           And suddenly, I am ripped out of the dream again : Is he doing this without wanting it at all ?

“Dean… You” I sigh. “You don’t have to do this.”

But he doesn’t stop, and his hungry palm slip under my shirt to rest on my ribs, not daring to touch my breasts just now.

“Dean…” I insist, holding back my moans.

“Mh… let me enjoy this Sunshine.”

My head falls back on the pillow when his tongue tastes the skin of my collarbones.

           He never, not once, called me Sunshine when he was making love to me during this year and that feels even better because it’s Dean, it’s not a dream. He is the man I fell in love with.

           I struggle a little to put my right leg on the side of his body, spreading my thighs for him. And when I feel his crotch on the thin fabric of my panties, my body bursts in flames.

           His hands are everywhere and his mouth covers every inch of my neck. I reach his back, as I always did, to feel his muscles under my fingers, pushing his flannel and shirt up to reach his soft skin.

“You remember that day we danced in the library…” he whispers, his kisses reaching my stomach. “You were a little drunk… I found you dancing with a bottle of whiskey on that cheesy song and offered you a dance.”

I nod, a little moan escaping my lips.

“This was a real memory, Sunshine.”

As I close my eyes, one last tear tickles my temple.

           His eager hands lift my oversized t-shirt and put it above my head before throwing it across the room. I’m shaking although I feel unbelievably comfortable with him.

“God you are… Y/n…” he buries his face in my breasts, feasting on it, his strong arms holding me by the ribs, squeezing it strongly.

“I need you inside of me” I admit in a whine, like I did before, even if he never heard it yet.

He groans and sits. With his eyes on me, he grabs the thin fabric of my panties and tries to rip it, failing three times before the fabric gives way, earning a light chuckle from me.

“Skin baby, please” I plea, when he falls back on me like the tall beast he is.

He moans muttering “baby”, like this nickname was turning him on, and takes of his flannel and his shirt with one hand.

           In the dream… He did it with two hands, always, and I love that he’s so similar, but yet, that I can’t mistake him with a chimera anymore.

           He opens his belt and I arch my back, touching my breasts just to see if he like that as much as he did.

“Oh fuck… Sunshine, you…”

I smile and stretch my arms to reach his lower back, caressing him while he pushes the zipper down.

           He clumsily takes off his pants along with his underwear and I gasp at the sigh of his cock. Dean’s velvety length, not just what I imagined…

           My hand wraps around it and my folds start dripping. He’s a little wider than my fantasy was… He’s… different. His hand joins mine, encouraging me to grab him firmly.

“You remember when you pushed me in the fountain in Las Vegas, Sunshine ?” he moans, licking his lips.

I nod as his fingers graze my impatient entrance.

“Oh Dean !” sweat breaks through my skin.

“That is…” he moans again, offering a sound perfect enough to shrink the black hole. “That is a real memory too. We have so much great memories…”

           His fingers gently press against my entrance, and his thumb strokes my clit like it was in love with it. My walls let him enter and my hips roll desperately.

“And now…” he groans, bending to suck a mark in my neck. “This will be a real memory too. You like that ?”

I cry out when he crooks his fingers inside of me.

“I can give you all the love you can dream of, Sunshine” he whispers in my ear, and before I can register what he’s saying, he takes of his hand, and bring it to his lips to taste me.

“Dean, please.”

           He smiles against my lips and wiggles slowly between my thighs.

           When he kisses me, the black hole implodes.

           Just like that.

           Because no kiss was ever so intense, even from the man that loved me back. No kiss was so loving, ever. And when I thought I had the best… Dean shows me once again that he’s better than any dream.

           He guides his cock to my entrance and pushes in, kissing me all the way. Even panting, even grunting and shaken by spasms of his hips, he keeps his lips on me.

“I love you…” I mutter under my breath, making him look at me.

“That’s it, Sunshine, take all the love you need” he whispers, putting his face in my neck. “I’ll give you all you need.”

           He bottoms out and I could come like this, just feeling him filling me so perfectly, but I hold back, my thighs burning cold in the best way.

           His thrusts are shallow at first, but his hunger grows inside of him, and so, it grows inside of me. He’s slow, but his trusts are so deep I can feel him in my belly. And I have no idea where I stops and where I begin, but that has no importance at all.

“I love you” I repeat, knowing now that he’s okay with me saying this like that, knowing he doesn’t think I mean it. “I love you.”

           Hands on his butt, I encourage him deeper, like it was even possible, and he bites my shoulder in a growl.

“Let me love you, Y/n…”

My heart races, sending my pleasure-saturated blood everywhere in my body at light speed.

           I come so hard my nails dig too hard in his ass cheeks.

“JESUS FUCK !” he cries out when my walls contract so hard around him I fear it might be painful.

           And his hand suddenly wraps around my neck, not really squeezing, but holding me firmly while his hips piston at a breaking pace a few times before he fills me in a low growl, his thighs convulsing a little.

           The world is spinning and the high is the strongest I felt. My heart just can’t hold back so much love, so, as a drunk teen spitting the name of their crush… I open my mouth.

“I love you, Dean.”

He sighs and I still can’t see his face, hidden against my skin.

“No, for real… It was you” I whisper, my palm flat on his back, his cock still softening inside of me.

           The second he takes to answer is the longest second in the universe. A drop falls on my collarbone and I immediately recognize a tear.

“I’m sorry Dean… Just… Forget that.”

“It was always you too, Sunshine” he finally murmurs. “I love you.”

 Sam’s Pov, Monday evening

             Dean holds her from behind, his hips swaying a little on the Led Zeppelin song she chose to cook.

           She’s laughing at his clumsy movements, trying to hit him with a spoon when he puts his finger in the dough she’s making.

           And I remember when he started to call her Sunshine…

It was a sad day of winter, it was raining for days but she woke up excited by this idea she had, to buy a pop-corn machine for the bunker, as we could only watch movie lately.

She was poking him with her finger, to annoy him until he agrees to let her bring it with the Impala.

When he finally did, pretending to be grumpy, she left running, to get clothed, and he turned to me.

“Who needs sunny days when you live with a freaking ray of Sunshine like that” he said.

Now I think of it, he was telling me he was in love with her.

______________________

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[zecretsanta]

FIC: Four Times Hazuki Kashiwabara Almost Lost Her Kids (and One Time After They Found Her)

To: @mortellanarts​

From: @grumpsterkitty​

For mortellanarts for Zecretsanta 2020 – “Lotus and her kids on Christmas”. This story mentions a near miscarriage.

AO3 LINK

(1)

It was an accident.

An honest accident.  Not like the ones that would happen at home.

She asked to watch the surveillance tape, after, once she had seen the doctor and she had reassured her that everything was fine.  Even in black and white, she could see the horror on Wendy’s face as she tripped over the electrical cord.  She replayed the moment when Wendy stumbled into her, knocking her into the copier.  Watching as her pregnant belly seemed to compress to an impossibly small size.

If she had lost the girls, she probably wouldn’t have been able to forgive Wendy.

To be honest, she hadn’t forgiven Wendy.

Which wasn’t entirely fair; perhaps the bulk of the blame was on the repair technician, or whoever decided to put the copier against the west wall, which had fewer power outlets, or whoever built and wired the building to begin with.

The blood - her blood - looked dark grey on the video.  It looked innocuous, like spilled soda.

She left the job three months after the twins were born, when she was sure they’d all be able to transfer to her husband’s insurance.

(2)

She cursed under her breath as she dropped the first aid kit.  The alcohol wasn’t even in here, she remembered, as she saw the band-aids scattered across the ground.  A tiny drop of blood slid down her ear and onto the Ace bandage.

The doorbell rang just as she managed to find the alcohol in the clutter under the sink.  She sloppily splashed some on a cotton and glanced at herself in the mirror.  The blood hadn’t gotten on her outfit, at least.  The doorbell rang again, and again, and again, as she barreled down the stairs.

“Dammit, when did you get so impatient?  Girls, Liz is early, are you done with -?”

She was cut short when she entered the dining room and saw their dinner plates still on the table, barely touched, and her daughters nowhere to be found.

“Girls?”

The doorbell ringing continued, but she ignored it.  She went through the rest of the house, picking up the pace as each one was empty.  She was only upstairs for what, ten, fifteen minutes?  Just long enough to change and put on her damn earrings. She called out their names as their babysitter kept pressing on the doorbell.

In panic and rage, she stormed to the front door and flung it open, ready to scream.  But it wasn’t Liz, just Nona and Ennea standing there with popsicles in their hands.

“We didn’t realize the door would lock behind us,” Ennea explained.  The grating music from the ice cream truck got louder as it came down their street.

Hazuki allowed herself a sigh of relief before she chastised them.  “You left, without even asking, to get dessert, before you finished dinner?”

Nona just shrugged while Ennea at least had the decency to look embarrassed.  “Mom, come on.  You know they’re the only one who have the blueberry ones we like.  We’ll still eat our dinner.  We promise.”

“We promise,” Nona reiterated.  “Even the carrots.”

“Maybe half the carrots?” Ennea said, a grimace on her face.  “I read if you eat too many, you can turn orange.”

“You eat too many blueberry popsicles, you’re going to turn blue.  You have a perfectly reasonable portion of carrots on your plate and I expect them to be all gone when I’m done.”

Her daughter’s expression changed, from disgust to worry. “Mama, what happened to your ear?  Daddy … he didn’t come by, did he?”

“No.”  Hazuki kneeled in front of them.  “Remember that paper I told you about?  He can’t come here or he’ll get in a lot of trouble.  It’s just been a little while since I wore earrings and my holes must have closed up.  I tried to force it through and I shouldn’t have.  Now finish up your dessert and eat your dinner.”

Her twins exchanged a glance before heading to the dining room.  She took a deep breath and went back upstairs to finish getting ready.  As much as she had wanted to wear her new jewelry, she could see the earlobe swelling up.

There would be time for wearing earrings, later.  Now that she didn’t have to worry about her husband ripping them out of her ear.

(3)

It started to drizzle, but she stayed on the bench. She could see Deanna about to cross the street into the park.  She had her hand on the stack of hundreds in her purse.  Deanna waved at her and Hazuki clenched her teeth.

It was silly.  Nobody had tailed her, she was certain.

Deanna sat next to her, seemingly uncaring that the bench was wet. Hazuki handed over the envelope of cash without a word.

“It’s definitely done?” Deanna asked.

“I think he could appeal, but he probably won’t.  He didn’t actually want the girls.  He just wanted to hurt me.”

“I hate men.”  Hazuki must have made a face, because Deanna laughed.  “I can hate men and still be a hooker.”

“I thought women in your price range called yourselves ‘escorts’.”

“We’re all the same.  Just because I don’t stand on a street doesn’t make me better.”

“Well.  Thank you.”

The smile faded off Deanna's face.  "I've done this before. That wife wanted to get out of a prenup and take his money. Which I could respect. Guy was an asshole. Do you have a picture of your kids?"

The sudden shift in topic left her mental gears spinning for a moment. She supposed there was no danger in it; she had researched Deanna thoroughly before emailing her.  She dug into her bag and pulled out her keys, with the keychain the girls made for her last year.  The picture inside the heart-shaped frame was of the three of them, the girls flanking her on either side, all of them smiling.

As she handed it to Deanna, the other woman looked like she might cry.

"I see my boy a few times a year, and that's it," she said finally.  “My ex didn’t have a problem with what I did when he got to benefit from the money I made.  Then I found out he was having an affair and he needed to tell the court I was an unfit mother so I wouldn’t get custody and he wouldn’t have to pay child support.”

“System is biased against women.”  She took her keys back and tucked them back into her purse.  “I work hard, take belly dancing lessons, and already started dating again.  That was enough to make the judge question if I was a good mom.  If you hadn’t been willing to –”

“Nobody’s going to protect us.  We have to do it ourselves.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments as the rain started to taper off.

“What does your ex do, exactly?”

Deanna snorted.  “He works for a health insurance company.”

“Any idea how good their firewall is?”

(4)

“Excuse me? Hello? Does anyone work in this hospital?!”

The nurse who came over looked exhausted, with dark bags under her eyes; any other day, Hazuki would have felt bad being so harsh, but she had been there for almost ten minutes and hadn’t gotten a single answer.

“Which kid is yours?” the nurse asked in a near monotone.

“Nona and Ennea Kashiwabara. I got a call they were brought here.”

“Ah, the twins.  Yes.  I’ll find their doctor.”

“Wait, are they okay?”  The nurse seemed to ignore her as she walked down the hallway.  “Can someone just tell me if they’re okay?  What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and almost took the man’s head off when she turned around.  He was entirely too tall, with a well-chewed pen stuck behind his ear.

“I’m Detective Lynch.  Can I help you?”

“I just want to find my damn kids!”

“Kashiwabara, right?  The staff here are a little overwhelmed, but your kids are in good hands.  And your girls are okay.  Nona has a scrape on her knee, but that’s the worst of it.”

“Did you interrogate them?  They’re minors. You can’t –”

He held up a hand.  “I met the detective who rescued them at the pier.  I rode with one of your girls here.”

“Did you say the ‘pier’?  The – but – I was told they were found in a building in Nevada.  Where – what the hell happened to them?  They were missing for days!”

Lynch opened his mouth as if to respond, but suddenly seemed distracted by something just off to her left.  She turned to see what he was staring at, but he reached out and took her hand.

“We’re looking into it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “When the nurse comes back, go be with your daughters.  Take them home.  I’ll give you my card.”

He barely took his eyes off her as he pulled out a business card and scribbled something on the back.  He handed it to her and walked off without another word.  His cursive was sloppy, but she could clearly read the message – not safe, text me, I’ll call you.

“Mrs. Kashiwabara?  Your girls are in room 407.”

When she turned around, there was no one there but the tired-looking nurse.

“The … the policeman who found the kids, where is he?  Is he still here?  Can I talk to him?”

“No, ma’am.  I think he went back to the station.  407 is this way.”

She realized she was clenching her fists and had crumbled up Lynch’s card.  But the writing was still legible.

(+1)

“Are you really sure you’re both okay with this?”

Nona cracked open the oven and clucked her tongue.  “Not quite.  And yes, mom, although it’s a little late to ask again now.  And stop eating all the deviled eggs, or you won’t have room for dinner.”

Hazuki rolled her eyes; before she could grab another egg, Ennea swiped the plate out from under her hand.

“Need me to help with anything?”

“Sure mom, you can make the cranberry sauce.”  Nona handed her can and an opener.  Hazuki sighed heavily as she cut the lid off and schlorped the dark red jelly tube into the bowl.

“There, sauce is made.”

“It’ll be good to see Mamoru again.” Ennea told her.

“Oh, you’re on a first name basis now?”  Nona teased.  “What happened to Detective Watanabe?”

“He hates formality and you know it.  Did you know he shares a name with a porn director?”

“Seriously?”

“Girls.”

“It’s true, though,” Ennea insisted.  “The guy did a film called Virgin Rope Makeover.”

“Did Mamoru tell you that?”

“No, mom, the internet is a thing.”  Nona peeked in the oven again. “Ah, finally.”

Hazuki tamped down the urge to remind her daughter that the turkey pan would be hot and heavy and to be careful.  She had never been one of those mothers while her girls were growing up, but ever since … ever since, it was hard not to be overprotective.  As soon as Nona had the turkey out, Ennea put in the pie.  And then the doorbell rang.

“Okay, please no mention of porn directors,” she told her daughters.

Ennea rolled her eyes as she set a timer and followed Nona out to the living room.  When Mamoru came in, he had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the doorjamb.  He inexplicably had a large cardboard box in his hands.

“Hey, so, uh, hi.  I brought wine, but then I realized I didn’t know if you liked red or white, to I got both, but the girls couldn’t drink it, so I got grape juice, but then I realized I didn’t know if they liked red or white, so I just got both of those, too.”

Nona took the box from him and grimaced as if she hadn’t anticipated how heavy it was.  “No worries.”

He shrugged out of his coat and Ennea giggled as she took it from him and put it on herself.  It was so big on her it was practically a dress, and when she held up her arms, it was clear her hands were where his forearms were supposed to be.

“I call it … Three and a Half,” she declared.  Hazuki smiled and Nona chuckled, but Mamoru looked puzzled.

“Oh,” he said finally.  “’Cause I was Seven.”  With that, he let loose a loud guffaw.

“Go on,” Ennea told him.  “Dinner is basically ready.  Do you feel like carving the turkey?  Mom and I usually butcher it when we try.”

“Uh, sure.”  He followed Nona as she hauled the box of beverages into the dining room.

As Hazuki put her arm around Ennea, she heard Nona ask, “Is it true you share a name with a Japanese porn director?”

(fin.)

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

The break

Summary: There is a reason why you should keep your past in the past and present in the present and Ethan is reminded of that when he asks his girlfriend for a break.

Warnings: ANGST

"I think we need a break." Ethan's voice didn't waver nor did his resolution, she could tell. He didn't look her in the eyes, but he knew of the pain that swam in the unshed tears that glistened in them under the moonlight, moments after she confronted him with an undeniable truth.

"A break?" She chuckled dryly, her chest shaking, quivering as she held back sobs in the last attempt she had to keep her dignity. If she had to lose everything to this man, she refused to let him have her dignity too.

"You sneak around with your ex behind my back and you're the one needing a break?!" She couldn't stop her chuckles, her reaction anything but what Ethan expected. He knows she is the type to laugh in uncomfortable, tragic or terrifying situations, but he never quite saw her lose it as she did now.

"I. Needed. You! All while you were off with her, doing God knows what!" She placed a hand on her chest, hoping to calm the earthquake made of her bones and the treacherous muscle underneath. Her free hand pushed back the hair he loved so much, trying to keep it out of her face as the wind picked up. It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic that her boyfriend decided to do this in the street right before the two were supposed to meet Grayson and Lisa for dinner.

"I was falling apart and you didn't fucking care at all, did you?!" Her voice cracked, deepening as she continued when his silence spoke volumes about where they stand after everything.

To go from a happy couple with a child on the way to a lover's death, all in a span of a single month, that was truly devastating. It devastated her like a nuclear bomb went off inside, but it mortified her pride. He had humiliated her and she didn't want to allow him any space to hurt her again. She's had enough.

"I do care." Ethan tried to interrupt, to stop her from spiraling, especially when her tears fell and filled him with dread. She raised her hand, palm turned to him, open as she meant to be with him. There was never a time she wasn't honest with him and she expected the same respect from him.

"You're fucking her, aren't you?!" She threw her bag on the bed, her voice hoarse from all the crying she had done every moment of solitude she could find. While Ethan was busy with his life, she felt like hers stopped, as if she had died that horrible night.

"I'm not fucking anyone! Her cat is sick and she wanted someone to talk to! Why is that so hard for you to understand?!" Ethan screamed, his nerves thinning and his hands bawling into fists at his sides.

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head in defeat as her shoulders dropped and her eyes closed shut, unable to look at him anymore. He truly had no remorse for what happened and she couldn't breathe with him around. Not when she felt another woman laying claim on him. Worst of all? He didn't stop her and he actually had the nerve to make her feel crazy for thinking that.

"Nice to know her cat trumps what happened to us."

Before Ethan had a chance to say anything, Y/N turned and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut before the lock sounded and so did the sound of her dropping body. He could hear her whimpers and the broken sobs she tried to muffle on the other side of the door, he himself sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the wood, memorizing it all, breaking him, for he knew it was all because of him.

She didn't call him any pet names nor did she soften her glare when he let the first of his tears fall too. She didn't rush to wipe the tears away or to hug him with all her might, she didn't move a muscle.

"I don't need a break, Ethan." With her words, he let out a whimper, opening his mouth to speak but she didn't want to hear it.

"People that love each other don't take breaks. You take a break from a hobby, not a person! I'm not an old pair of shoes to be tossed aside while you wear something more fashionable before getting nostalgic about the olden days. I have feelings and you hurt me deeply. You don't hurt the ones you love." There is nothing in this world he could say to ease her pain, he knew that, but he wanted to try. Ethan knew he needed to do something or he would lose her. That's the last thing he should do, but maybe, just maybe, she would be better off without him.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just think you needed time to work on your trust issues and I needed time to mourn."

"Trust issues? While you were comforting you ex girlfriend, the girl who made your entire relationship an ultimatum and isolated you from your family, I was bleeding out back at home, dealing with a miscarriage on my own. I was the one who needed your help and if you weren't with her, you would be there on time and maybe the doctors could have done something to save our baby. The same baby you probably didn't even want to have. But that's a conversation you aren't ready to have. And I'm done." Y/N took a weary step back, her hands raised in surrender, making the choice for Ethan. If he wanted a break, she would make his wish come true. Even if it kills her, she will walk away.

But she was wrong. He did want that baby, as unexpected as it was. He dreamed of a little girl and the princess dresses he would buy for her and the ballet classes he would take her to and the pink room he would paint himself. Or a little boy he could teach football and video games and dancing that always made Y/N laugh wholeheartedly about. He did want it and he did blame himself and in a way he blamed her too. It wasn't fair, but he blamed everyone, the whole world.

"Ethan?" As if on cue, the woman who tore them apart had appeared, looking for Ethan who felt his whole world is falling apart. He was faced with his mistakes and the truth is never pretty. Y/N definitely didn't spare his feelings either.

"You're free to do whatever you want now. Have a happy life." She walked away as Grayson and Lisa pulled up to the restaurant, Grayson's booming voice screaming for her. But she couldn't look back for looking back would destroy her. If she looked back, she would see Ethan with that woman and that would be the last of her.

PART 2

Tags: @accalialionheart @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes

[makeupbychio]

to our baby // C.H

Pairing : Calum Hood x Female Reader.

Words : 7.9k

Summary : You’re a makeup artist from Brazil, and by accident you met Calum on Christmas Eve in a Uber. The question is whose Uber was it? Yours or his? but one thing is for sure, he believes in soulmates. A glimpse of your pregnancy in a video.

Warnings : Fluff, fluff and fluff. Angst, mentions of miscarriage and blood. 

Inspired by : Kylie Jenner’s pregnancy video. I don’t know if you like Kylie but Stormi is the real goat. Classic rom com movies. Love for Brazil and the family that I have there. Blue music video by Beyoncé. Kehlani’s pregnancy. Baby fever.

a/n : hi babies, so I love dad!sos more than myself. I poured my heart on this one and hope you like it. Feedback is more than welcome and love y’all. Happy reading. Also this give me such rich vibes because, duh, successful parents. Also I did the moodboard and it’s the first time I did one.

2 months

Your best friend Natali decided to start recording this moment, and that’s how your video starts with a soft piano melody that Calum created for the entire video.

“Are you recording this?” you said looking at your bestie’s phone.

“Yeah, cause’ it is official” your bestie said pointing at the doctor’s monitor. A little peanut of 7 weeks growing inside you. Your doctor is rubbing that cold gel in your belly and your eyes are looking at the monitor with bright, shiny, sparkly eyes but inside you are afraid too. “Hi baby, this is your mommy”.

+

3 days ago…

You’re in a cafe with your best friend, it’s almost night time when you decided to go for a cup of hot chocolate and a good slice of cake that you’d been craving the whole week. Calum, your boyfriend is on press tour promoting the last two singles so you’d been hanging out with your best friend.

Once you’re walking back to your place, suddenly you started to feel like crap and disgusted by the smell of coffee that a stranger was drinking and passed by you. Your best friend noticed when you gagged and told you to hold on till the next shop.

“Hi Marcela!” your bestie said to the cashier of the shop. You should have say hi too but you ran to the bathroom. “Sorry, she ate something” she said waiting for you in the other side of the door. Once you were done you were still feeling like trash.

“Hi Marcela and don’t worry I didn’t spot anything” you said. Marcela’s your best friend’s cousin. They’re from Brazil, so do you. She works in a big pharmacy, that the owner’s her brother, Pablo. “How is that pretty boy who plays the guitar?” she asked you, and you laughed that she didn’t ask about how are you.

“You just saw him a couple of weeks ago” you said. “How are you tho?”.

“Ya’ know, excited for the surgery” she said referring to her breast surgery and you’re so happy to see her finally in the process of a trans woman. “Well, before you go you should go back to the bathroom with this, on the house” she said giving you a pregnancy test. Before you refused, Marcela interrupted you. “Your boyfriend’s birthday party was wild so I’m just sayin’” your best friend gave her a look to behave. “I mean I don’t judge you with that hottie and a wild night” she said pushing you back to the bathroom.

You didn’t give her an answer, because she was right of what happened that night after you and Calum were alone. Ugh, in that moment you wanted him in the other side of that door and not your friends that are just making you more nervous.

“I would like to have his babies too if I could” Marcela tried to break the ice of this moment with a joke and your best friend punched her to be quiet. “What?! I’m just trying to make her laugh”.

“Y/N? U okay? 10 minutes have passed” Natali said knocking the door.

“I’m too coward to look at the result” you said in a shy voice in the other side. Your friends looked at each other and encouraged you by telling you that whatever the result is they are going to be with you and support you.

You left the bathroom to show them the two lines in the test. It’s positive. You’re pregnant. It wasn’t the first time tho, but that story’s for later.

+

“This is how I found out about you” your best friend said to the camera. “Your mother and I were living our lives having fun and working hard when she met your father”.

“I think that the story of your parents is unique, your dad loves to tell how he met your mother” Mali said to the camera.

“Once I saw in a well known tv show that you met your soulmate three times before being together. I didn’t believe it cause’ I used to think that love is a scam but one day…” Calum said to the camera. He remembered when he listened that line while watching this tv show he said ‘fuck off’ but kept watching it. Two days after that he finally met you.

+

3 years ago…

It was Christmas Eve, and your biggest opportunity in your career as a makeup artist. You won this with a lot of effort. You had 5 clients that day, everyone wanted to get all glam for the day by you. You were late because there was no taxi or Uber available until one driver accepted your call. It was snowing and the Uber arrived outside one of your client’s house and you ran with your suitcases full of makeup.

Once you sat in the back of the car, a guy entered the car too, hurry like you.

“Excuse me?” you asked him. “This is my car, you must have another car plate”.

“Hell nah miss. I’ve been waiting for twelve minutes” he said showing you his phone he noticed your accent and your beauty.

“I have the same one!” you showed him your phone. “Please, I’m late for work” you begged him.

“I’m late too!” he resisted.

“Can you please tell this man that I called you first?” you asked the driver.

“Sorry, the app is crazy today so maybe the system gave to me your calls” the driver said through the rear-view mirror. “But I got her call first, sorry buddy”.

“Ugh thank you! Why you don’t go on your car? For sure you have a car if you live in this neighborhood” you said at the strange man of the leather jacket.

“My car is in the mechanic" he said. “Please please I will call your couple to explain why you are late if you let me take this Uber”.

“Excuse me?! I said I’m late for work!” you were tired and you have two clients left and one of them is a billionaire, so you started to get angry at him who didn’t understand that you’re in a hurry.

“Work? You must have a boring life” he said before leaving the car. You were not going to tell him your life and explain yourself. You thought to gave him the middle finger but it’s not the day for that, you just told the driver to go.

Two months after that episode you were doing a beautiful gold eye look on a tall and handsome guy. He’s so nice and you found cute when he asked you about makeup, skincare and your career.

“So if you want more intensity with the pigment you have to spray setting spray directly to the brush and then take a little of the shadow” you told Luke when you are done with his makeup.

It was the day when they were recording Valentine’s music video.

“Dude we are waiting for you, what the hell?” Calum asked Luke when he arrived the set.

“Sorry the makeup artist is so cool we were talking a little bit. She told me she’s from Brazil and her skin looks amazing. I’m going to say to call her again for the next videos” Luke said showing the guys how amazing he feels with his gold makeup.

Calum wanted a little bit of glitter on his cheeks, but when he went to the room where you did Luke’s makeup. He didn’t find you. Another makeup artist told him that you had to do Lady Gaga’s makeup for a magazine cover when he asked about you.

Calum was going to ask how she ended doing Luke’s makeup if she does biggest celebrities looks because he was surprised and realized that she (you) must be a talented MUA. But he forgot to ask.

Two months after again. 5sos were going to Coachella but not to perform. They were excited for the weekend to have fun and to see all their favorites musicians on stage.

This festival is all about outfits, makeup, accessories, influencers, etc. But also to get to know upcoming good artists from different countries and music genres.

“Ashley how we end up here? I don’t speak portuguese” The boys said to their friend who wanted to see a brazilian artist.

“Me neither! But I love Pabllo so much” Halsey said. “Please, come on! It will be fun I promise”.

Once in the VIP section, Luke hugged a girl that Calum didn’t recognize. 

“Look Y/N” Luke said showing you to rate the glitter he applied.

“It looks amazing!” you said. And after that Luke introduced you to the rest of the boys telling them about the makeup you did on him for Valentine’s video, and Halsey recognized you since she’s a fan of makeup and to be honest you should be the one who is glad to meet her.

“Hey I think I know you from somewhere” Calum said trying to remember your face and before you said something and before the boys said a dirty joke, Calum remembered. “You stole my Uber! It was my Uber”. After a couple of jokes, and you clarifying that you didn’t stole anything, the show started.

Pabllo is the first brazilian drag queen to perform in this huge festival. You were Pabllo’s makeup artist, Calum didn’t need to ask you that. He saw you enjoying the show.

“This look is amazing” Calum said about the pink look you did on Pabllo. You thanked him for that compliment because it took you almost two hours.

“I also did chilean and argentinian artists makeup” you said proud of your work for this two weekends. After this song Pabllo is performing you have to go backstage to touch up the makeup. So after you said bye to everyone and before you went back to work Calum invited you to their place where they are staying for an after party when Beyoncé closes this festival’s day.

And after that, you two have been inseparable.

+

Today your career’s immensely different. Today you’re one of the most famous MUA in the industry. With a lot of famous clients, most of them billionaires including people from music, films, fashion industries, etc. You also opened a makeup studio in LA. This took you years, hard work, tears, sweat and blood to be who you’re today, always proud to be an immigrant. Nobody believes you when you told the story how you get into makeup. You come from a poor town in Brazil and every single night when you were in highschool you ran away from home to go to bars and do drag queens makeup, since then you’re friends with Pabllo and every brazilian drag queen.

+

“Like I was saying this is how she told your father about you” your best friend said while in the video that moment’s playing. You and Calum are in Arraial Do Cabo beach, your favorite since you have memory. It was sunset time, you were standing in the water holding hands when you told Calum the big new. The 35mm video shows how Calum lifts you up and kisses you so tenderly with the beautiful crystalline water as the background while he kneels to kiss your exposed belly in your bikini.

Of course you asked your doctor if you could travel to Brazil, your homeland. This was a trip that you planned with Calum for so long, you missed your family so much and also you didn’t want to cancel it since it was also Calum’s vacations. Once you arrived back your parents house you told them and your brothers (you’re the younger sibling) the big new. All of them cried and hugged you and for dinner your mom did all of your favorites brazilian dishes and desserts that you missed so much and you have to eat for you and the baby.

It was summer in Brazil and that night there was a storm but hot as fuck, as always. You were looking at the beauty of the city during night while you waited for Calum for bed time after an amazing day. He showed you the pictures he took during the day, he didn’t know if your glow was because you were at home, like when he visits Australia, or if it was the pregnancy. 

The next day you decided to go for a picnic with your family, a tradition you have. You went to the same place that is close to your old house. The picnic area has multiples simple grass courts where kids play football. You filmed the moments when Calum and your brothers started playing with the kids of the neighborhood including your nephews, your heart melted to that view of the children laughing when Calum failed a goal and Calum’s heart melted at the view of you playing with your nephews in the grass and then dancing with them. They love to show you what they had learned about samba and capoeira. The only thing on Calum’s mind was that it feels just right with you and that he can not wait to live what he’s watching, with you. With each of them holding your hands you came back to picnic table.

“Baby you’re going to have amazing avós, tios and primos” you said while filming your family members that picnic day. Your parents kissing your forehead and your brothers filming you playing carefully with them the match. 

“She still has it” your eldest brother said to the camera and then filming the picnic day. You can’t explain how much you love your family. You bought them a house in a good side of the city when you became rich. You were dreaming that your whole life because you came from a really poor part of Brazil but with the hard work of your mom, as a hairdresser, and your dad as a fisherman, you always had food and a house full of love. You consider your step dad like your real father, because he’s been there for you since day one and he taught you almost everything of life.

The first time Calum went to Brazil to meet your family, he already knew about your step dad. He and your brothers were harsh with Calum. The three of them have been always protecting you. When they realized how much Calum loves you, they treated him like family. Calum admires that coming from your step dad, and more than ever he has to show you that he would never do what your biological father did to you. He’s going to be the best dad in the world because he always wanted this with you.

Your last night in Brazil you found yourself looking at the balcony. You were sad for leaving again and for an specific memory. Calum noticed you were not sleeping and he knows you better than himself.

“Why you told me that you were scared to tell me the big new” he asked you. You told him that you didn’t know how he was going to react. And also because you didn’t know if he still wanted a family with you after your miscarriage you had last year.

+

1 year ago…

You never understand why the brain always remember the bad moments or the traumas. Sometimes you feel like this happened yesterday and some nights still haunts you. It was your mistake even when everyone told you that it wasn’t your fault. But it was.

You were back from Europe after all the fashion weeks in different countries. You travelled a lot, with no stop doing tons of makeup looks to tons of models to almost every designer that called you. Back in LA you continued with your clients and your studio.

You remembered that night, Calum was back too from the shows they did in Australia and New Zealand. Both of you were exhausted. In the middle of the night you started to feel feverish and thirsty so you went for water downstairs. Before you passed out you felt a strong ache in your back. The noise your body did against the floor got Duke in a second running where you were. He started barking when his help didn’t work which woke up Calum. He knew something was happening because you were not in bed and Duke was desperate. When he found you in the kitchen floor he called emergency when he saw blood in your shorts, he waited the ambulance next to you and holding you all scared because he had no idea what was happening.

In the hospital when the doctors did all the exams and gave you the medication you needed, your doctor went outside to talk to Calum explaining him what happened. You didn’t know you were pregnant until the moment you woke up and your doctor explained to you the same. Your doctor told you that the cause was the non-stop work you did, without eating well or drinking water, sleeping less than 4 hours, too much flights and the baby couldn’t make it. After a couple of days in the hospital to recover, your doctor told you to stay and rest at home all the time you needed. Calum was there for you all the time, taking care of you and letting you know he loves you, even when you felt guilty and barely could look at his eyes.  You always thanked him for what he did because after that you thought he was going to break up with you. Your family, the guys and friends were there for you too and until today you go to a therapist.

Despite all the sadness that brought you the hardest time you had ever lived. It taught you to take care of yourself, to put your health first and to slow down with work even when it’s your passion. So now when your doctor said that you were pregnant, you decided to keep this a secret until your baby is born. You want to live to the fullest this pregnancy, taking care of you and your child, so that’s why you don’t want any paparazzis following you everywhere or things that damage your mental health because you don’t want the baby to feel your anxiety or panic over unnecessary scenarios.

You told your loved ones your plan, you told just the right amount of people that you were pregnant, people who you can trust. You told your clients the secret and that you were going to work and keep doing their makeup until you start to show.

+

“He just told us like ‘hey look at this’ and for our surprise it was the first ultrasound scan” Michael said to the camera while a video of that moment plays. Calum telling the boys that like if it was a simple meme on instagram, their faces, reactions by jumping and screaming were priceless. “And we were so confused and I remembered I said ‘wait this a baby’”.

“Come on guys!” Luke said when you and Calum were goofing around the arena during soundcheck playing like kids and hugging each other. Then in the dressing room waiting for the show cuddling in the sofa laying your bodies in the limited space, Calum’s kissing your nose and the rest of your face and you’re caressing his cheeks and stubble softly with your nails. You promised Calum that you’re going to be careful every single show you will come to see him.

“Every single picture or video you find about your parents, you can see the chemistry” Andy, who is the director of this video, said to the camera and then a video he did for Calum’s birthday party is playing. “Everybody say happy birthday to Cal… one, two, three!” Ashton said through the microphone when it was time to sing at Calum. Then you two kissing and partying, and then leaving the club with all the flashes directly to your faces and other cool little moments of you two playing in the video to show how could your baby’s parents are.

+

3 months

You were in your first trimester when Calum found himself stepping into the elevator for the ultrasound which is going to reveal your baby’s gender. Andy’s filming everything and zoomed to little details that showed that Calum was nervous and anxious to see and hear his baby for the first time. He’s waiting for you that you’re on your way after doing a client’s makeup.

Your style have always been so urban and grunge. You always wear baggy shirts with cool designs on it or bands/singers merch or vintage shirts. And now it’s even more comfortable to you wearing that.

Luke was waiting for you to drive you to the clinic. It wasn’t a surprise when you saw paparazzis pictures of you arriving with Luke and rumors were already on social media but till the end everyone denied your pregnancy. But it was funny but crazy some of the rumors.

Plastic surgery, that you were cheating Calum with Luke, that you were expecting a baby, etc.

“Please guys, leave her alone” Luke said to the paps when he got out the car. He had to lie but he wanted to scream at them to give you space because of the baby but he couldn’t. Everyone was so protective with you and you understood because none of you wanted you live another miscarriage.

If it depends on Calum, he prefers that you don’t lift heavy things or anything that requires too much effort. “How are you feeling today baby mama?” he asked knowing about your morning sickness. You told him that you were perfect that you just want to know the gender of your baby.

“You’re fifteen weeks now” your doctor said rubbing again the cold gel against your belly. Calum was in a chair next to you rubbing your leg focused watching the monitor just like you. 

“Hey chief u are putting too much pressure on” Calum said on the defensive watching how hard the doctor was pressing the gel in your belly.

“Don’t worry, Calum. It’s just the skin. There she is” the doctor said once finally found the perfect take of the baby checking every detail and told you both that everything is okay.

“She? Can we hear the heartbeat?” Calum asked already covering his mouth and he can feel the chills going down his body tearing a little bit. Andy who was inside the room, zoomed to the monitor and also the only one who knew the gender before the reveal party.

+

4 months

Make it last forever

Come on, baby, won’t you hold on to me, hold on to me?

You and I together

Come on, baby, won’t you hold on to me, hold on to me?

Blue

Calum till the present day after your baby was born, he sings this song to her at nights. His voice activated your baby, she really loves her daddy’s voice and she showed her joy with shorts kicks in your belly. She demanded when she missed Calum’s voice or warm touch or when she was having a really good time after he sang or talked to her.

“Babe I think your daughter’s having a party in there” you said feeling her feet. You also had your mom and daughter quality time, you talked to her most of the times telling her typical brazilian stories your mom told you once, or giving her a couple of wise words or you also sing to her even when you can’t compare your voice with Calum’s with brazilian or typical lullabies.

“Hi baby, I know you love this private concerts at night but mommy has to sleep too” he said closer to your bump. Calum helped her to go to sleep by telling her stories or how he can’t wait to have her in his arms. “Well, as I can see you want to be awake I’m going to tell how I met your gorgeous mother” he started. He keeps telling that story too, you always tease that she’s going to get bored of the story but Calum tells the story every single time with more love.

+

5 months

Short videos of yourself in sweats and your bra showing your growing belly of five months in the backyard taking the sun of LA and the spring that is left. Then in the pool, next with Duke aka your partner of naps when Calum was in the studio, who at the first months he laid his head on top of your belly but now that is bigger he just lays next to it.

Since you got your doctor’s confirmation, you did mini videos in the mirror of your bathroom to see the progress. Filming from different angles with different clothes like underwear or bikini, short or long dresses, thigh or loose, etc. Calum loves to appear in the take behind you kissing your neck and landing his hands in your belly. Now talking about bathroom, he also loves to help you to get into and out the shower, wrapping you with towels, putting your socks or shoes if you can’t reach your feet, zipping up your dress and if you had a rough day he prepares you a bath with bubbles and candles and joins you. He loves doing all of the previous thing before you got pregnant. You do by yourself your makeup, of course, but he teases you about he’ll be an amazing makeup artist.

“Not after what you did to me that time” you said at him remembering that funny video when he did your makeup.

+

When Andy isn’t around you’re in charge of filming like early in the morning when you wake up before Calum. Every morning he woke up with his head near your belly and his warm touch around. He looks so at peace sleeping because you know that the previous night he fell asleep late talking with the baby, it’s been his routine lately so in the morning you take the camera and film your view, you take the opportunity to brush Cal’s messy morning curls with your fingers for a while.

+

6 months

Calum had a surprise for you since you couldn’t travel to Brazil or neither to Australia because it was too risky as your doctor said. He told you that today you two have Ashton’s birthday lunch. He wasn’t lying because it was Ashton’s birthday but also the surprise he had so he was filming since early in the morning.

“Babe can you help me, please?” you called him from your shared room. He went upstair with his camera.

“Damn look at you! Baby mama slaying!” he praised you looking at you with troubles with the unzipped dress. You blushed but gave him a pose with your belly at the camera.

“Please help me, next week I have to buy clothes and underwear that can fit me” you turned and he slowly helped you because he didn’t want to damage the dress that barely was fitting on you. “You can say it” you said with a pout since you noticed that any piece of your clothes were fitting you.

Calum knowing about your hormones and how you’re feeling with the shape of your body, which he thinks that you can’t look more precious but understand your struggle, he just wanted you to feel good. “You look amazing honey and you know how much I love this dress” he said with a smirk and hugging you to kiss your neck and grab your ass.

“Okay Hood, let’s go if you don’t want to have twins…daddy” you teased him before he got more horny. You winked at him and grabbed your bag to go downstairs but he stopped you.

“I think that with this you’re going to look even hotter” he gave to you a luxury package ready for your reaction. You opened it and found the shiniest gold heavy chain, you looked at him shocked. “I got a similar one too, it represents the name we choose for our baby” he said and you were already tearing up and told him that it’s beautiful and he told you not to worry knowing that the next thing you were going to say that it wasn’t necessary because of the price. Once outside you kissed him before he helped you to get into the car.

“Still don’t understand why Ash’s going to celebrate his birthday two days before” you asked Calum while he’s driving.

Calum’s a really bad liar but he did his best to keep his surprise. “I told you babe, he’s going to be in Australia for the next weeks”. Lie. And you remembered how mad you were at Ash when he told you because he was going to miss the baby shower.

But once you arrived Ash’s place and went to the living room and saw a bunch of people jumping and screaming ‘surprise’ at you, you got scared and hid your face on Calum’s neck and he can felt a few tears because your and Cal’s families are here. You hugged everyone and thanked Calum once again for this. “I love you so much”.

“Love ya’ more” he said smiling down at you and kissed your crown. And the next day both of you and your families, the guys, close friends like your MUA’s friends and from the music industry were at your place. You’re wearing a more comfortable outfit than the day before, it was a black fitted midi tank dress and a rainbow tie-dyed hoodies that you and Calum ordered for the baby shower theme because you don’t like that thing that pink is for girls and blue for boys so everyone’s wearing the colorful outfit.

You’re posing in your garden full of beautiful flowers of different colors as everyone’s taking you pictures.

“More to the side” Mali said to have the perfect picture of you and your baby. Andy was filming every moment and zoomed it when you waved at his camera and the other hand on your belly. Then pictures with Calum, then the families, the guys, and everyone who was invited. Every single person can noticed your happiness and pure joy, you were glowing and even more with your soft peachy glowy makeup you did.

In the video the zoom’s now on your and Calum’s matching chains that you were wearing minutes before the reveal. 

“Goddammit just say it!” Michael screamed impatient.

“Yeah, I bet Michael that it’s a boy” Luke said. They actually did bet five hundred.

“Why would you do that?!” Ashton stole words that Calum was going to say.

“Cause’ Y/N has two brothers and two nephews, maths Ash!” Luke said confident about his prediction.

Duke was hiding inside a box with the truth. When you both opened the box, Duke came out with a mini billboard hanging on his collar that says ‘It’s a GIRL!” 

“YES!” Everyone screamed but mostly Michael because now he won those five hundred dollars.

+

“Definitely I’m going to be her godfather” Michael said looking at the guys. Andy asked them to say something for the video, they were sitting in the couch.

“Hell nah Michael… Focus! We have to say something to our niece” Luke said at him. “Hi kiddo, unfortunately we’re also your uncles, I’m uncle Luke and just wanna to let you know that you have the coolest family ever and you can count on us for everything”.

“Yeah, I hope you guys have clear that we’re going to spoil this baby a lot” Michael said looking at you and Calum, you nodded at him and he with his partner made it clear by bringing tons of gifts for the baby shower. “Cool, I’m just going to say that never be ashamed of who you are or your dreams and I know I’m going to be your favorite uncle because your birthday’s going to be near mine”. Michael said to the camera while he did his thing with his hair of always adjusting it.

“Hi dear niece, uncle Ash here, you’re so lucky to have your parents and they’re lucky to have you. Hope you have your mother’s features cause’ she’s hot…” Calum slapped his head from behind due to the comment. “Okay! your dad isn’t that bad tho…being serious live to the fullest cause’ life’s beautiful, especially if you play drums” Ashton laughed and you rolled your eyes at how all of them including Calum had been discussing which instrument the baby’s going to love most.

+

7 months

“You have to exercise, you gained ten pounds that weren’t planned” your doctor said. “Something light of course, and Calum, by the way you’re looking at me all scared, don’t worry cause’ everything’s going to be okay”.

“I’ve been craving a lot lately, I’m going to start again” you said swinging your legs like a child sitting once your doctor finished cleaning the gel of your belly. So the next morning you started again with yoga, you stopped for a month and that happened. You did yoga every morning with your personal trainer, since you can’t go to her studio because the secret will be revealed. Calum was also there encouraging you and sometimes Ashton, who assured you that he wasn’t there because he finds your trainer attractive.

+

@enews: Is Y/N pregnant? She’d been seen attending at 5sos shows this week and fans took pictures of her enjoying the show in the middle of the arena with friends and family in the restricted space. In the pictures we can see that she gained weight by her cheeks. In the picture you can’t see if there is a baby or not due to her outfits. She, with her husband Calum also are the last ones to leave the arenas asking the bodyguards to make sure there is no paps. What do you think? It’s confusing because she and Calum have been posting a lot lately and you can’t be sure about a little 5sos member coming BUT fans are saying that maybe they’re posting old stuff to confuse us and also fans called to respect their decision after what happened to the couple last year. Link in our bio to see the pictures.

+

“Do you want to say something to your granddaughter?” your brother asked with the camera to your parents and you melted at how cute your family looked with the hoodies on. 

“Ugh, I can’t wait to hold you, kiss you, hug you, teaching you things that maybe your mommy can’t teach you” your mom said all emotional.

Your dad said to the camera that they can’t wait to have your baby visiting Brazil and teach her all about your culture and country. And you couldn’t be more agree with them. You want to show your daughter her roots, teach her portuguese and bring her to the carnivals in Brazil, spend all day in the beach walking with her in the seashore holding your hand and a lot of things that you have in the list. The same that Calum has in my mind since he found out about his baby but visiting Australia.

“I know you’re going to be smartest and most beautiful baby in the world and as you can see you got us wrap around your finger and every single person that loves you” Calum’s mom said to the camera.

“I’m going to be the best auntie I promise” Mali said to the camera and her dad joked about she and your best friends are the only aunties, because your baby has more uncles that aunties and that’s going to be fun.

+

“A doble vegetarian cheeseburger with caramelized onion and fries, please” you said from the passenger seat ordering your food to the worker of your favorite place for your cravings. Not taking risks to leave the car. Since you stopped working when you were five months you’ve been wearing baggy clothes to go outside and your designer friends have been sending you all kind of clothes from baggy and comfy dresses but still elegant and chic to pants and underwear that are the pieces you needed since every day your belly grows. Your best friend was driving and Mali was filming from the back. “And two portions of fries and a strawberry vegan milkshake, please… thank you!” you said with a guilty look to the camera. Later you’re going to ask why your doctor told you to lose weight. 

In another occasion that Michael invited all of you guys for dinner and you had in your plate a lot of things you took. “What do you have here?” Andy asked filming. 

“Well we have mac n’ cheese, french fries and sweet potato fries, two cheeseburgers of course one for me and one for the baby and a lot of salad because why not?” you said raising your shoulders.

But it hasn’t always been this way with your cravings and just beautiful things during your pregnancy because isn’t the truth.

Your cravings were so crazy and even things you didn’t like before that suddenly you want to eat that Calum reminded you that you hate that but doesn’t argue with you because you were going to get mad. It started with a lot of sweet things like cake or pies, fruits or chocolate and a lot of ice cream. Then peanut butter with watermelon, yeah, gross. To food that you love but hated being pregnant. Also food that one day you loved and the next morning you were disgusted and the next one loved again. And it ended with a lot of salty food like cheeseburgers, pasta, nuggets, etc but your loyal friend during the 9 months was ice cream.

“Babe I want to eat feijoada!” you pouted at Calum with a huge crave of your favorite typical brazilian dish. Calum couldn’t believe what he was hearing, it was 2 am and you were hungry and not in the best mood. “And also passionfruit ice cream, please”.

Calum did everything but the brazilian restaurant you love was already closed and he didn’t have idea how to do it. “We have the ice cream tho” he suggested if you changed your mind but that didn’t happen. You were going to start crying, the hormones were doing their thing that day.

Calum really wanted to spoil you but he had no idea what to do. He tried to facetime your family but he would have understood if they hadn’t answered because it was 6 am in Brazil. Thank God, your middle brother already started his day and when Calum told him what he wanted to do, your brother really realized how much he loves you. So he told him the steps, the recipe and the special secret of your family tradition, Calum told himself for the next one to pay attention when you or another person cook this dish.

“K’ thank you man, say hello to the rest, bye!” Calum waved through the phone once the feijoada was done.

“You are going to be a good dad, Cal. Now go to spoil your girls!” your brother waved at him too. And Calum really appreciated that comment.

“Sorry babe for being a pain in the ass lately” you said to Calum while you eat the ice cream laying against the headboard of the bed. He didn’t let you apologize for that because you’re doing something majestic and it was more than normal the things you had been through. 

Even when those moments aren’t going to appear in the video, Calum’s going to for sure telling your baby your crazy cravings. When you cried more than once watching puppy videos on Instagram and Calum asking you “babe what happened?” and you just told him “it’s just that the puppy’s so cute” and he comforting you every time you cried when the hormones were crazy. 

When you struggled with clothes. “Baby I’m doing my best” you said almost holding your breath and Calum trying to zip up your blue dress but in the middle of the night still end up broke. That night was a mess, you were out with Calum celebrating Tyler’s birthday, a friend of yours and you were half undressed that Calum gave you his jacket to cover the mess and then you started to feel sick when you caught the smell of a strong cheese.

How to forget how you feel with your body. The pain in your back, your feet, your breasts or when you felt so tired sometimes. How some days you were feeling yourself and other days you felt the most horrendous person. Some days the sexiest woman in the world and others the most unwanted one when you found a new stretch mark or how big your breasts and butt are, the pounds you gained.

“I promised that I used to be sexy, look baby” you said at Calum showing him a picture of you when you were 18 years old, you were in Copacabana with your friends in a party. Calum every day letting know how much he loves you and told you that you’re always going to be the prettiest woman in the world even when you had chocolate all over your face. He helps you too with your body issues because for his eyes all of these new things are a reminder of your little peanut and he loves every single inch of your body.

+

8 months 

“I’m thirty four weeks today, just a month left” you said to the camera showing your belly. “Look baby, your daddy’s painting your room” pointing at Calum applying the peachy paint in the walls and later you were going to add with black paint some trees and other things like clouds, sun, the moon, etc. 

Calum was already a 24/7 daddy. He called the guys to help him with the crib and the rest of the furniture. He had ready the bags for the hospital and the plan for that day.

+

Since you decided to keep your pregnancy a secret and to stop working and stay at home and not be in the public eye, you still had fun doing puzzles, playing with makeup, inviting your friends when Calum had to go to work. And every day you worked from home too, you still had to manage your makeup studio and your clients glam. 

Tonight you prepared dinner, a brazilian night. You invited everyone and after you were goofing around in the living room with music in the back. The guys made you laugh at their attempt to dance samba. You decided to join the baby mama dance flexing your pregnant dance moves so you started filming with the front camera of your phone and dancing with the rest to ‘All Me’ by Kehlani.

+

“What if she isn’t into makeup?” Andy asked you in the baby shower. This is the first time you speak for the video.

“It doesn’t matter. She can do and choose anything she likes, I just want to teach her that she as a girl that girls can. To empower her if she likes science, art or sports or whatever I’m going to be there for and with her. Baby just remember that I’m going to love you every single day of my life and I’m sure that you’re the coolest and prettiest Maori-Brazilian girl in the world and you should be proud of that. We with your dad are waiting for you, love ya’”. you said to the camera.

“Hi princess, well I’m going to try not to cry while I say this but I can’t explain how much we love you and can’t wait to finally have you in my arms and sing to you and have fun with you. You’re my sunshine and your mom’s my soulmate, that tv show I saw was right about soulmate but the truth is that Uber was mine” Calum said to the camera smiling so big that his eyes crinkled and you giving him a look because that question about if that Uber was yours or his is going to be forever a topic, but one thing for sure is that moment changed everything.

+

“Calum!” you screamed from the living room where you were resting after dinner with Duke in the couch. Calum arrived in a second running from the backyard. You were suddenly scared. “Don’t know if Duke peed in the couch or…” and the next thing you saw was Calum taking the bags and helping you to get up to lead you to the car. He was freaking out inside but he tried to keep calm and always reminding you to breath when a contraction hit you.

Andy filmed when he arrived the maternity floor in the hospital. Everyone was waiting outside the labor room. He gave your mom the camera as she was inside the room with Calum next to you. 

“Five centimeters left” the nurse said. For the video you decided to cover the screen so everyone will see just a black screen.

“Everyone’s here” your mom said while you wait. “We, Cal’s family, the boys, Natali, Marcela and Andy with Sarah”. And all of them were nervous waiting with fingers crossed with shuddering legs and feet against the floor waiting for Calum to go outside to say that the baby’s here and that you are fine.

You didn’t put in the video the ugly side of contractions and the pain you were feeling. The word you heard a billion times was ‘breath’, ‘take a deep breathe’.

“You’re going to meet your little girl” your doctor said to you and Calum once you were ten centimeters ready. You wanted to scream at your doctor for everything that the nurses put on you. How painful the epidural shot was and the every 3 or 5 minutes the contractions were. Till today you’re more than grateful that you had Calum supporting and helping you and also that he didn’t pass out. He’s going to be forever amazed at how your body and mind really did that and carried your little princess. 

“Okay, eight, nine and… ten. Go, push” you heard. “Good job Y/N, keep going please take a breath”. “One more and you’re done” your doctor said and in that moment you felt how Calum held your hand with all of his energy.

“You can do this baby” he said encouraging you. You were tired and all sweaty but your reminder was that one more to hold your baby.

Cries filled the room letting you know that she’s finally here. “Open your eyes mama” the nurse said to meet your baby before you fall asleep.

“You did it baby, congrats” Calum was crying while he kissed your forehead, so do you. “I love you mama” he said. He couldn’t believe that years ago he didn’t believe in love but getting into that Uber that Christmas Eve was, is and is going to be forever the best decision of his life.

To our baby

Ema Kara Hood

October 26

8 lbs, 9 oz

11:15 pm

[linphd]

ex!aizawa x ex!villain!reader | mr.blue [angst]

shouta aizawa x reader

female reader

(Y/N) turned villain after many years with Shouta. But now that she's stopping, she still has to say her goodbyes.

warning : big ass angst, death, sad shouta

the lyrics are from mr.blue by catherine feeny and the whole story is 100% inspired by Bojack Horseman's ending so don't read and watch the video I've put if you don't want to get spoiled oof

(Y/N) and Shouta met when she was in her 1st year at U.A. He was a Big Three, thus he had to train her class and help them with hero work. They became the interns of the same hero, and that's when they started dating. When the girl finally graduated U.A, they moved in together. Their life was most of the time peaceful. However, when Shouta became a teacher himself, he got very busy. It was already something that hurt (Y/N), even if she knew it wasn't his fault ; he was even trying to be with her as much as he could, despite her being a pro hero as well. And she was kind of famous !

Indeed, she was one of the top 20 heroes, and the man not wanting to be in the spotlight, he was trying to avoid wherever she was going -as paparazzis were always nearby. Still, their couple and their love for each other was much stronger than busy schedules. It was Shouta who asked his partner to marry him. That night, they had gone to a fancy restaurant, they had watched a movie (Y/N) had been wanting to see for a long time, and the brunette was wearing a blue suit. It wasn't typical of him to wear blue, but it was a suit the woman had bought him. He wanted her to be happy. And after that night, it became 'the suit you asked me to marry you in' as she called it. Shouta didn't mind the name.

Their wedding was so beautiful. They both referred to it as the best day of their lives. All of their friends were there, the music had been perfect, the food had been perfect, and Shouta had even managed to dance perfectly, impressing even his now wife. He couldn't forget the smile she had worn the whole night, and even the two days after. She even got pregnant, yeah. It was a girl, and they had named her (D/N). But (Y/N) was 7 months pregnant when she had a miscarriage. Villains attacked their house, because of her rank. And Shouta couldn't do anything. Their lives couldn't be the same after that.

After what happened, (Y/N) kept training and training, her quirk affecting her sanity. It was a dangerous quirk. The legend said that whenever she was angry somewhere, the sky would turn into storm. When she would be sad, it would turn into rain. But it would only be where she would be standing, not affecting the rest of the town. And Shouta knew ; that legend was true. (Y/N) got depression. Maybe he did, too. But one day, he woke up, and she was gone.

She only left him a letter : ''(H/N) is gone. Tell the news I'm dead, that villains killed me in front of you. I'm not coming back'' it said. And Shouta knew that losing his daughter was one of the worst day of his life, but losing his wife had been even worst than anything else. He knew (Y/N) wasn't gone for real. Some nights, while he was doing his hero work, she would attack him, out of the blue, for fun. She looked like a villain, her hero costume was just a memory to him, now. Her quirk had left some traces on her ; her eyes looked crazy. She looked tired. She looked insane. And Shouta knew that that smile was fake, as the sky would always turn a dark purple with scary clouds, whenever she was.

She never got caught. Even after 5 years, she didn't get caught. As he had new students, Shouta had to investigate on the League of Villains. And weirdly, she had managed to befriend them and they were now a part of her own villain relations. They were so many. But weirdly, never once they attacked heroes he knew. The League of Villains attacked U.A, yes. But (Y/N) and her own minions ? Never once. He didn't know who they attacked. He didn't care as long as she wasn't caught.

Mr. Blue, I told you that I love you.

Please believe me.

Mr. Blue, I have to go now.

Darling don't be angry.

A few years later, it was Midnight's wedding. Everyone was having fun, and even some students had been invited as they had graduated U.A. Still, Shouta wasn't someone who partied, even after all those years. He just went outside, and stood on a hill nearby. The sky was beautiful. He was lost in his thoughts when he heard footsteps. Thinking it was Hizashi, the brunette turned his head carelessly. But how wrong he was. ''How did you hear about the wedding ?'' He asked. ''I hear about a lot of things. And I wouldn't miss Nemuri's wedding.'' (Y/N) replied, standing next to him, but far enough not to make it too intimate.

Knowing he would break at seeing her this close, the man turned his gaze back to the stars. ''She never heard I was a villain. I retired, anyway.'' The woman continued, Shouta's eyes widening. ''What do you mean ?'' He asked her, confused. ''It's over, for me. My quirk is worst than before. I may die if I use it again. I used drugs, you know ? I used to talk with the yakuzas when I was at my villain peak.'' She said, a little smile on her face -maybe nostalgia ? ''Did you like it ?'' Shouta asked, calmly. ''Well, it was nice while it lasted.'' She replied, smiling. ''Just like our relationship together.'' She continued, making the brunette sigh at her words. To him, the relationship wasn't really over. Sure, they weren't together, but there was still something

''I never broke up with you. You just... left.'' He said. He was right. It made (Y/N) uncomfortable that he was right. So she decided to make him uncomfortable instead ; it was what she used to do. ''You're wearing the blue suit. The suit you asked me to marry you in. Were you expecting me ?'' She asked, chuckling. ''Maybe ? I don't have many suits. You were the one finding them for me. Hizashi isn't really good at it.'' He explained, making the woman smile. But he kept talking. ''I loved you, for 17 years.'' He said. ''I wasn't even 17 when we met.'' She replied, chuckling.

I know that you're tired.

I know that you're sour and sick,

and sad for some reason.

''There were so many things I wanted to tell you. But now that you're here, I don't know what to do.'' Shouta said, not being able to put words on what he was feeling. ''You just feel... comforting, you know ?'' He tried to illustrate his emotions. ''Do you remember, when we started dating, you said you liked being in the same room as me, cause it was a peaceful room ?'' The woman asked, making him nod. ''I guess even after all this time, it's still peaceful.'' He said. ''Why did you never try to attack me ? You are a hero, after all.'' (Y/N) asked. ''I didn't want to. And you never did something that made agencies send me. You never attacked the school, nor our friends... you've always been clever.''

''This discussion is shit. Can you believe that ? We went through so much shit together, that we don't have anything else to say. And still, it's comforting.'' The woman said. ''I don't see why it wouldn't be comforting. I've never been mad at you. When you left, the only thing I thought was : '(Y/N) is gone, and now everything's worst.' But I don't blame you. Our life was hell. It was surely better for us to stop being together. It couldn't work, even if we still want it to work.'' Shouta said, admitting in the same time that he still loved her. He guessed she had admitted she still loved him too, as she never once said the room wasn't comforting.

''Thank you.'' She said. ''I'm sorry. Thank you.'' Those were just a few words, but they meant many things ; how grateful she had been to live with him. He was so understanding and was so in love with her, he wasn't even enraged when she left. ''Thank you, too. I'm not as socially awkward as I was in high school. You helped me a lot by making me humiliate myself in front of many people.'' Shouta said, smiling. It even made (Y/N) laugh. ''Did you want to see me ?'' He asked. ''Yeah. To tell you that I'm leaving. I've left once without telling you. I can at least see you in person now that I'm okay.'' She replied.

So I'll leave you with a smile.

Kiss you on the cheek.

And you will call it treason.

''You're okay ?'' He asked ; his memories of her being a happy person were very old, as their last moments together had just been her drowning more and more into insanity. But she did look sane, now. All the marks of her quirk were gone. Even her face looked peaceful and rest. After they lost their daughter, after she became depressed, and after her quirk drove her crazy... she was now okay. ''Yes. Are you ?'' She asked, and he nodded. He wasn't lying. He really was okay. ''We have to, anyway. We're not young anymore. We can't afford it.'' Shouta started.

         ''Life's a bitch and then you die, right ?'' He asked, almost laughing at his own sentence. ''Sometimes... sometimes life's a bitch and you keep living.'' (Y/N) replied. It was true. She kept living. He kept living. ''But it's a nice night, hm ?'' She asked, as she had been staring at the sky as well. He remembered how she affected the sky around her. But this time, the night was peaceful. There wasn't any dark cloud, the stars were bright and shiny. They couldn't hear the wind, and couldn't even feel it. She really was okay. She had grown. Shouta smiled. ''Yeah. This is nice.'' He replied -it was comforting.

Mr. Blue, don't hold your head so low,

that you can't see the sky.

Mr. Blue, I told you that I love you.

Please believe me.

        They looked at the sky together, enjoying that it was calm and beautiful. For so many years, (Y/N) had only seen dark clouds, and for so many years, Shouta was all alone to enjoy the calm. The woman sat, as she was getting tired to stand up. Hizashi had walked outside, looking for his friend, when he saw him, on the top of a hill. He recognized the silhouette next to him. Hizashi's mouth was agape, his eyes widened. (Y/N) decided to lay on the floor completely, making Shouta turn to look at her and laugh. He laughed way too much for a simple move. But he had missed it ; she laughed with him as well.

        ''Yamada-sen- Yamada, what's going on ?'' Izuku asked, still being disturbed that he couldn't use the 'sensei' now that he had graduated. ''I can't tell if that's the happiest or the saddest scene I've seen.'' He whispered, still focused on the couple. Izuku didn't understand, but as he recognized the silhouette of his former teacher, he kept watching. Meanwhile, the couple wanted to say things to each other, sometimes their heads turning to look at the other and their mouths opening as if to say something, but they couldn't find anything to say ; they had lived everything, there was nothing left to be said. They just didn't have anything to say to one another anymore.

         (Y/N) looked at Shouta ; he was still standing, looking at the sky. But he had a bright smile on his face. She was thankful that he had been in her life. But they lost so many things together, and she turned a villain, they couldn't get back together anymore. She hoped he understood she loved him ; she had never been the type to say it out loud, and never was he. She hoped he also believed everything she had just said to him, because she had meant everything. And as he was focused on the sky, she decided it was time for her to go, quietly. But this time, she couldn't be a villain. But she couldn't come back anyway. Once the brunette turned to look at her once again, she was gone.

note that the 'room that feels comforting', the 'nice while it lasted', the blue suit, the '... is gone, and now everything is worst’, the final dialogue and the fact that they want to look at each other but have nothing left to say all come from Bojack Horseman and I'm very thankful for that show it gives very good life lessons and helped me actually to deal with some stuff so 🤧❤️❤️❤️

and yeah I’m back with a Shouta story and it’s an angst it feels like it’s the beginning of that blog again right 😗✌🏻

[vanessakirbyfans]

When Vanessa Kirby was 21, she did a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Octagon Theatre in Bolton, outside Manchester, England. She played Helena, in love with Demetrius, who is in love with Hermia instead. “All these schools used to come in, loads of kids,” she says. “They were always super bored or fidgeting.”

During her monologue at one performance, speaking desperately of a love that has been thwarted, someone dropped a box of candy down the stairs, and they rolled all over the stage in front of her. “And I was like, ‘Oh, God, fucking hell. What am I doing wrong? And then I saw this girl, off to the left. And she was, I don’t know, 13 or something, and she was listening to every word,” Kirby recalls.

“And there was something in that little girl that wanted to hear what Shakespeare was saying, via me … perhaps she was feeling something,” she says. “So I just did it to her.”

Kirby, 32, is magnetic, even on Zoom—there is a way the texture of the screen shifts, gets more lively, when she comes on any screen—and watching her recount this story felt like a glimpse into how she is able to channel discomfort into performance.

She is on the verge: both of breaking out into that coveted carries-the-movie, Oscar-nominated category of actor and of figuring out the kind of actor she wants to be. She’s tried out action franchises—she’s currently filming the next two installments of Mission: Impossible, continuing the role of the White Widow that she originated in 2018’s Mission: Impossible—Fallout, and starred in the latest Fast & Furious film—and is best known for her devastating performance as Princess Margaret in the first two seasons of The Crown. It’s her latest role, though, in Hungarian director Kornél Mundruczó’s first English-language film, Pieces of a Woman, which premieres on Netflix in January, that promises to propel Kirby to that next tier. Her portrayal of Martha is being touted as a breakthrough; the term “Oscar-worthy” has been uttered countless times.

We met over Zoom on a Saturday: She was in London; I was in New York. It was my morning, her early afternoon. We both wore turtlenecks. I planned to take notes as we talked, but instead I leaned forward, rapt. Both of us gestured a lot. Pieces of a Woman is about motherhood and grief. The film, with a screenplay by Kata Wéber, stars Kirby and Shia LaBeouf as a couple whose child dies during a home birth; it assiduously, unflinchingly chronicles their struggle to come to terms with the loss.

The opening scene of Pieces of a Woman is a nearly 30-minute-long take of a labor that ends in the baby’s death. The scene is painful, gorgeous, terrifying—moments of it feel like horror. Kirby says that each time they finished filming, she and her fellow actors felt a sort of ecstasy, running out into the snow—they hugged and screamed; Kirby sobbed after the first time through. “It was completely surreal because we were there,” she says. “We were just there. We were witness to something.”

Kirby, who doesn’t have children, prepared for this scene for months. “I started watching everything I could find,” she says. “Endless documentaries, home birth videos, but everything was so sanitized; everything was so edited.” She ultimately got in touch with an obstetrician, Claire Mellon, who agreed to let Kirby shadow her. Kirby had to go to shoot another movie and had only two weeks on the labor ward, at Whittington Hospital in Islington. Pregnant women she’d met agreed to let her watch them give birth, but none of them ended up going into labor over the period she was there. On the last day, “I had my suitcase, and I was flying to Romania that night [to film The World to Come], and a woman came in nine centimeters dilated. Claire said, ‘I’m going to ask her.’ ” Much to Kirby’s surprise—“Why would anyone want some stranger there? An actress? During this most sacred moment?”—the woman agreed. “I watched her for six hours go through a really difficult labor, no painkillers, forceps. It got really, really difficult … . I watched her go on a completely lone journey, like an odyssey, through the most primal, almost divine … .  And I saw the power and the fear in all of it.”

“I came away far more of a woman in appreciating the sacredness of the feminine in a way that I don’t think I had fully realized,” Kirby tells me. “I feel like I had lived something in human experience I hadn’t lived before.”

For parts of the scene, as my husband and I watched, I looked over at him, and he was, just as he had for some of the 40 hours I was in a very complicated labor, staring at his phone to avoid having to look at it. “I’m not sure I can finish this,” he said.

At one point during the scene, Kirby’s character, Martha, starts burping. The third burp, I tell Kirby, was the moment when my husband had to look away. It helps us not just see but smell the various dimensions of the female body, how close it is to animal, how at its mercy Martha is.

And yet Kirby manages to inhabit the power in that moment. She says of watching the labor that day: “It brought everything that I sort of had known intellectually into being, which is, this is like the magnificence of being a woman, and its creation essentially ….  It almost gave birth to the film inside my heart.”

Kirby speaks too about discomfort as an opportunity to force people to look at things and think about things they might not otherwise. “I think getting in touch with something that makes someone deeply uncomfortable, and deeply feeling … ,” she says. “I think you search beyond, you look outside places that you usually look, for resolution, or for understanding, or for connection.”

The idea that there is no space for women to talk, to be heard when it comes to the traumas our bodies have experienced, feels so entrenched in what it is to live inside a female body, it feels necessary to say out loud how important this film feels. And when it comes to infant loss and miscarriage, in particular, these silences feel that much more pointed, since so often women—and Kirby’s Martha is no exception—misperceive these experiences as their fault. But if the outpouring of feeling that arose in the aftermath of Chrissy Teigen’s posting about her pregnancy loss is any indication, Pieces of a Woman could function too as a catalyst for more of these conversations, another opportunity for women who have endured these traumas and these losses to find spaces to feel seen and understood. I ask Kirby what she learned in these observations prior to filming: “To know pain,” she tells me, “is power.”

The birth scene in the film gives us discomfort; it initiates a descent into an almost unimaginable grief, but then Kirby performs for the rest of the film another way of being, harder and more complicated, maybe, to inhabit as an actor, which is to say an almost stultifying way of locking one’s self up. Martha doesn’t yell or scream; she hardly speaks through many of the scenes. Instead the film seems to get at something truer, deeper, about the singular experience of female trauma—the way that so often the expectation is just to be quiet and to carry on.

In The Crown, Kirby as Margaret cries and yells; she instigates. Her eyes are almost always wet. She performs her grief if only because performance is perhaps the only way she knows to get people to look. There’s a sophistication, but also a surrender and a resignation in knowing the limits of this type of performance. Kirby has taken on a harder role with Martha, who stays pinned up and stoic almost the entire time. “I was worried,” says Kirby. She gestures to show me the length of a piano. “Martha is functioning on a more limited scale.”

Speaking of Kirby’s ability to perform this subtle agony, the film’s director, Mundruczó, says, “She has this nervousness inside her.” He compares her magnetism to Catherine Deneuve. “You have to find someone who is rich inside. The icon, which I believe she is, you can see yourself inside her. She is always facing you somehow.”

I’m not sure I have ever, as a mother, as a woman, been so wholly moved by a performance; to my mind, great art is a process of forcing people to look, and there is something extraordinary about what Kirby forces us to see. She says she wanted to “serve the women who had been through this,” but also “grief generally.” “I almost want the movie to hold people’s hands somehow,” Kirby tells me. “To feel less alone because of the shared experience that it is.”

The second of three children, Kirby was born and raised in Wimbledon, with a magazine editor mother and a urologist father. “I always felt really different at school when I was little, and really lonely,” she tells me. She studied English at the University of Exeter and turned down a place at the prestigious London Academy of Music & Dramatic Art (LAMDA) to do Arthur Miller, Henrik Ibsen, and Shakespeare with David Thacker at the Octagon Theatre. She always wanted to be an actor: “I found that space of drama and theater was the least judgmental,” she says. “I felt my calmest, most connected, most accepted spaces were always those.”

If there is a through line in her disparate performances, it’s “subversion,” says Kirby. Finding roles where the characters are “nonconformist … the marginal, or the outsider, or the one that lives on the outskirts.” I would add that there’s an openness, a confidence and a willingness to press into spaces that feel uncomfortable and hard. During the filming of Mission Impossible­—Fallout, Kirby went barefoot throughout the shoot as a way of living that subversion. “I wanted to be something different than another femme fatale.”

One of the most compelling moments in Pieces of a Woman turns out to be an unscripted choice, pushed by Kirby. Martha’s mother, played by a stolid, stunning Ellen Burstyn, yells at her daughter to convince her to testify in court against the midwife accused of causing her baby’s death. Burstyn’s character is unrelenting. Her face turns red. Right before they shot the scene, Burstyn says Kirby approached her: “Make me go to court,” Kirby told her. Burstyn says she went through the lines she’d been given, every bit she’d practiced, but she knew she had not yet convinced Martha to go to court. “So I kept going,” says Burstyn. “I have no recollection of what I said after that.” She laughs.

I ask Burstyn to explain how Kirby was able to get her to open up like that (and did not ask but thought, “What chutzpah!,” to press on an icon like Burstyn that way). “You can’t explain magic,” she says.

Mundruczó describes this process as necessary for making the film feel life-like. “You have to wait for things like this to be born in front of you,” he says. “It takes an immeasurable amount of trust.” You wait, he adds, and make the space for, “[w]hat they create that is way more than what you have on the page.”

I ask Burstyn, no stranger to portraying complicated women, what she thinks Kirby has accomplished in this movie, and she thinks for a minute before answering. “Rawness,” she says. “Vanessa is helping to reveal the depth of womanness in a way that’s true.”

“Raw”—it’s the same word that Crown creator Peter Morgan used to describe Kirby’s acting. That kind of performance derived from an ineffable internal force. He recalls her audition for Princess Margaret as “catastrophic in every way.” She had “fake tan smeared all on her shins, but even more of it on the palms of her hands, which were a darker shade than any of the rest of her. She was sweating,” he continues. “It was so terrible.” He laughs. And yet, as Morgan tells it, even “the whirlwind of energy and chaos” that she entered with couldn’t distract from “her honesty, electricity, and magnetism. The fearlessness and raw exposing of herself” she showed in everything she did. “This woman is going to be magic,” he recalls thinking. “And that’s borne out.”

Kirby’s father is a well-known prostate surgeon who treated cancer patients. “I saw him save people’s lives, and here I was, going on stage,” she tells me, “putting on these silly costumes. I never thought it was any more important than what anyone else does.” And yet, as I talk to Kirby, as I’ve thought over the past year about what matters to me, how art might function in times of crisis, the idea of making space for other people to feel deeply and complexly feels more urgent than it ever has. “I know that in my experience,” says Kirby, “whenever I’ve had the most difficult times, I think you want to transcend it, so you search more. So when people say to me, ‘God, this must have been so hard,’ I say actually, ‘It was truly the most profound experience.’ Because I got to go to a place that I hadn’t been before, and that changed me, you know?”

“I feel that the faith,” she adds, “that creativity and art—and that includes the audience as being an essential part of that relationship—that in the darkest of times, creativity, I think, has this impulse to flourish somehow, to speak about experience. I have faith that there will be a lot of spaces where people find a need to speak.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #305

“you want me to be yours, well then you’ve got to be mine, & if you want a good girl, then goodbye”

Do you call the ice cream topping "jimmies" or "sprinkles"? They're "sprinkles" down here. What music are you listening to? Ha, I just turned on music before starting this. "Sex Metal Barbie" by In This Moment is on rn. If you go to school (HS or college) does your school have a rival? N/A Have you been baptized in any religious tradition? Yeah; I was born in a Roman Catholic family. My mom's mom would've probably had a heart attack if us kids weren't. At family gatherings, are you more likely to hang out with the younger or older relatives? I mean, I'd go for those my age or older, generally. I'd hang out with kids though if they wanted me to. Considering you current health, how long do you think you will live? With my CURRENT health, probably not even 80. Do you have anything in your room that would be 'weird' to others? Posters, yeah. Have you ever done geocaching? No, but it'd be cool if my body could actually handle taking a single goddamn step. What was the last game you won? Maybe Uno with my niece? I generally let her win, but occasionally I'm "lucky" to TRY to be more convincing, lol. I think she knows I let her, though. Do you know any deaf people? If so, is it easy or difficult to have conversations with them? No. Do you enjoy playing Monopoly? Why or why not? No, because I don't like board games, especially any that involve math. Is there a doorknocker on your front door? No. Do 'laugh tracks' on TV shows annoy you? They're so normal that I don't even notice them, really. Do people often mistake you for other ethnicities? If so, what do you usually get? No, I'm pretty obviously white. Has anyone famous ever attended your school? Who? I won't say his name for the sake of not connecting dots, but a well-known football player attended my high school. Have you ever had to attend an event that occurred on your birthday? Ha, my 16th birthday landed on the Super Bowl... I was at Jason's that night, and just to be "part of the family," we watched it with everyone else that came over. I was so bored and uninterested, but that's my own fault, really. I could have said something, but this was only a month into our relationship so I was too uncomfortable to speak up. What do you think makes a girl a slut? Do you believe that label is thrown around far more often than it should be? And finally, do you think it's unfair that mostly only women receive that label? I don't give a flying fuck how many people a girl is sexually involved with so long as she is safe and open and honest with her partners. I'm not a fan of the word and don't think anyone should be called it. Do you think it's bad to have sex at 15 or younger? I don't think it's smart, really. It's just too young to risk pregnancy. Yes, abortion is an option, but like... a 15 y/o girl should never be faced with that dilemma. I'ma be real tho, I don't think it's a "good" idea until you're at least 18, aaaand I don't know any non-virgin who waited that long. Just try your best to wait, ig. Favorite love song at the moment? Love songs never sit well with me anymore. I mean I can enjoy them, absolutely, I just... have a lot of bitterness. Trying to pick a favorite when you feel like that is like trying to pick the best-looking rotten apple of the bunch. Ever wondered what it would be like dating the same gender as you? I've done that already, and it was great but also scary in a massively homophobic state. Ever paid for sex? No. During thunderstorms, how does your pet react? Neither have a unique reaction; they're unfazed. What internet browser do you use? Google Chrome. Do you like eggnog? Noooo no no. How often do you see your mother? Every day, because I live with her. Do you like croutons in your salad? No, I really don't like the texture difference. Who did you last play truth or dare with? I don't know. Have you ever brewed your own mead, wine, beer or soda? No. Have you had to make any changes in your life lately? If so, what kind of changes? ugh What's the earliest popular thing you can remember from your childhood? Ummm. I mean, probably like Barney or Elmo? Do you prefer practicality or fashionability when it comes to clothes? Well, really neither. I'm the type that wears tank tops in snow, flipflops year-round, sweatpants in summer... so I don't really dress with practicality. I don't care what's "fashionable," so. Comfort pretty much reigns over my wardrobe. Which kinds of berries grow in the wild where you live? There are these little red ones that grow in little groups and somewhat resemble raspberries. I can't remember if they're edible, though... Oh, and muscadine grapes (I had to look up if they were berries lmao) can be found here, too. They're yummy. Beautyberries are another. Have you ever made an article of clothing yourself? If so, what was it? No. Do you go to arcades? If so, what's your go-to game at one? Even before Covid, I never really went to them. I enjoy them, though. I guess my favorite is maybe air hockey? When's the last time you had an alcoholic beverage? What was it? At the Cheesecake Factory for my birthday. It was some kind of sangria... Maybe strawberry and peach? Idr, but it was good. What has been the most enjoyable job you've had? You assume I've had a job I actually enjoyed. How about the least enjoyable job? Well, I barely lasted two hours in a dairy, soooo... When's the last time you had to carefully plan how you used your time? You're asking the wroooong person, 'cuz my life is never busy enough for that. Who do you usually say hello or good morning to first? My snake Venus, usually. Well, that is if her head is peeking out of her hide or is just fully out. Do you ever chat about your favorite video games with your friends? I don't really have gamer friends anymore, so not really. What do you hope you grow out of? Being so goddamn dependent. What movie made you cry the most? I can't say for sure considering it's easy for movies to make me cry, lmao. Maybe Titanic. What was one of the happiest moments of your childhood? Seeing a container of dog food in the far back behind the Christmas tree one year. It's how I learned I was finally gettinga dog (Teddy). What brings you the most joy in life? Probably my cat lmao. What's a hobby you would like to try out? I wanna get back into video editing, I just. Don't have the motivation for it anymore. As with most things. What sort of a kiss do you count as the first kiss? On the lips and with mutual intention. What was the last event you attended? Thanksgiving dinner at my sister's, ig. How about the last event you organized? Me? Organizing an event? What's the biggest insect you've ever seen? In the wild, probably like... a rhinocerous beetle or something. NO NO WAIT. I remember at least once in my life seeing a fucking GINORMOUS moth on the ground one morning. I don't know what kind it was, but jc it was huge. How about the biggest spider? Oh yikes, I'll never forget this: an orb weaver wandering across the floor of our childhood van and under the passenger's seat. Never saw it again. I was afraid to let my feet stay on the floor for a looong time, haha. What's something you'd never ever dare to ask another person? I'd never ask certain "why" questions, like "why did you get an abortion?" or something like that. I can think of valid situations to ask most things, even controversial matters, but no one should ever have to justify something like that. "Why don't you have kids?" is another. That one gets to me. Having children is not an advancement or milestone in everyone's life, and hell, you never know if the woman's had like five miscarriages or something. What's something you've always wanted to ask someone but haven't dared? Why Mom didn't raise her eldest daughter, at least for her whole life. Katie's childhood is a big mystery to me, and I want to know more, but I know the topic is very upsetting to Mom, so I'm not about to make her explain it. What's the worst/best thing you've done without your parents knowing? Saying "worst/best" makes this question confusing... but I'm guessing you mean the best thing to me that they wouldn't have approved of? I really didn't do a lot of things that would fit that description. I can only think of a certain intimate occasion where things happened where they probably shouldn't have. If you wear earrings, what does your favorite pair look like? Ugh, I don't because of the holes being too stretched out from wearing heavy earrings too long. I still haven't gotten to putting proper gauges in so it looks less stupid. Have you ever won any money from a scratch card? Maybe like, $10 or something. How about a slot machine? I've never played one. Do like playing bingo? Sure, it's all right. What small, everyday thing makes you really happy? Cuddling with my cat. Do you enjoy puzzle games? If so, which one's your favorite? Yeah, I do. I can't really pick a favorite, though... Is there a substance you avoid at all costs? If so, what is it and why? I think in a past survey I mentioned my aversion to beer because of the association it has with my dad. I'd never be able to get a sip down. Not that I really want to anyway though, it stinks. What you would you absolutely hate living next door to? Any really busy location or travel hubs, like a train station. My childhood home was near a railroad track, and it sucked, so I can only imagine a station. What would you love to live next door to? A waterfall, uggghhhh. In the woods too to hear plenty of frogs and toads and crickets... What gives you nostalgia? It is very easy to make me nostalgic. The littlest things can do it. Hearing about/seeing/playing childhood video games, like Spyro, is a biggie. Which reminds me how damn badly I wanna play the Reignited trilogy, fuck. I just don't have the proper console. Which language do you think is the most complicated to learn? Well English is supposedly the hardest objectively, but as a native English speaker, I can't say anything about that. In my experience, Latin was like fucking impossible. Is there a place that you might call your second home? I guess Dad's house, but it's not like I'm there a lot. I feel comfortable there, though. How do you imagine your later life to look like? I DO NOT want to think about this. I fucking dread the thought. What is a job you would never in a million years want to do? A butcher. There is absolutely no motherfucking way I ever could do it, even if it kept me off the streets. What's the weirdest building in your city? *shrug* How do you keep in touch with friends usually? Facebook. Do you recognize friends'/family's vehicles by sound? Not anymore. Dad had an old car that was very easy to recognize with its shitty muffler, but he hasn't had that car in years upon years. I used to be able to recognize Jason's old car too because of sound, but primarily because he drove way too fast down our path that when I heard a car zooming over rocks, I knew it was him. What's something new you've just recently learned? It was actually a topic of recent discussion that I may have high-functioning Asperger's. Very, very unusual to learn later in life, but apparently Mom's seen the warning signs in some things since childhood, like my extreme pickiness with textures, my tendency to knead and play with my hands in situations of discomfort, my social ineptitude, hyperfixations, it actually running in our family (which I didn't know beforehand), among a lot of other things. We're not really digging into it though because it just doesn't matter; there's obviously no magic treatment for autism, and me being in therapy and having a psychiatrist to handle my meds is enough. If you were in Harry Potter, which house would you be in? Apparently I'm on the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor line when I took a survey a long time ago. Are you nagged about being on the computer too much? Not anymore, at least on the average day. Mom's accepted it by now. Dad's joked about it before though and I know others have certain opinions about it. Based on your personality, what animal do you think you'd be? Maybe a deer. Shy, reclusive, and always on alert. Have you ever been in a hot tub? Yeah. What song is stuck in your head at the moment? I have "my boy" by Billie Eilish on right now because it's stuck in my head. What's your father's middle name? John. What's the last movie you saw in theaters? Yikes, good question. I think it was The Lion King remake. Have you ever vandalized? No. What's a pet you've always wanted? Most pets I want I've had at some point or another... I guess I'll say a ferret, though I've really only wanted one in concept. I could never keep up with their maintenance, but by god they are the cutest fucking things ever. Do you like mice? I love mice! What's your favorite t-shirt? My "equal in our bones" Cloak shirt. :''') The design is so beautiful and just my style in general, plus I live to support anything Fischfuck takes part in. Did you/will you get a car for your 16th birthday? I'm 25 and still have never had my own car lmaoooo. What's your favorite tomato variety? I generally don't like tomatoes themselves, but rather products made with them, like ketchup. If I'm in the mood though, I do like tomato sandwiches with mayo and bacon; I only ever enjoyed them though if they were fresh right from an old friend's garden. Which well-known person's death shocked you the most, if any? I think Chester Bennington's was the biggest surprise. Rest easy, you legend. What's the craziest color you'd dye your hair? More like what crazy color WOULDN'T I dye it... What was the longest train ride you've been on? I've never been on one. What's the coolest hobby one of your friends has? uhhhhh idk Have you ever played in a stack of hay bales? No. If you could learn any skill, which would you like to learn? Ha, cooking. How do you like your steak? Medium well.

[fiction-in-my-blood]

Switching Sides: Part 13 (HLITF)

if anyone possibly wants to get on a tag list I’d be happy to make one

👉 @theshove 👈

If you wanna catch up, Part 12 is right here! Happy reading :)

Premise: Growing up in a life of crime in a Japanese mafia, Atsuko Motomori has seen enough injustice to last her a lifetime. To try and give back to the universe her family has taken so much from, she dreams of being a detective from a young age. Her twin, sharing her disgust for her father and many uncles, just wants an ordinary life away from the crime, paing and suffering. Instead, she wants to be in the spotlight with the soft notes she makes with her cello. In their escape of 2015, on their coming of age birthday, they must split ways, never to be together ever again. If one was found, they didn’t want the other dragged down with them. Atsuko, having changed her name and appearance as best she can without a scalpel, sets off to start her life of car chases and arrests.

Four years in a seemingly dead-end police station in the middle of nowhere, being passed over time after time for promotion, Atsuko finally gets a shot at her dream, having been sent to an academy for the best candidates in the country by her boss who had always kept an eye out for her. After discovering her boss may have made her bite off more than she could chew, Atsuko must become the slave of a dominating instructor!? Who so just happens to be the captain of the most famous police unit in Japan? Not to mention a total knockout! Will Atsuko finally achieve her dream? Or will her new instructor put her through the wringer?

Warnings: Language, Reference to sexual activity, Forceful nature, Abuse, Kidnapping, Torture.

~~~~~~

A week and a half had passed since I awoke in the hospital. My recovery was slow, painstakingly so, and I found my thoughts trailing back to every painful memory I had. But, no matter how scared and depressed I got, Kaga would always somehow show up, explaining he had more questions for me, and I would be able to slowly explain to him the same story I had been repeating for days at that point. It was almost comforting and with the silent stare he showed me every time I was able to complete the tale, I felt myself connecting with reality a little bit more. It showed me, reporting to him, that I had lived through it.

~~~~~~

"He's being sentenced today," Juna announced as she sat on the couch in my room, eating some noodles she had bought on the way over. We both stared out the window, the sky raining down hard pellets on the city below. It was a soothing sound to fill the silence that followed her announcement.

"What... What if he doesn't get imprisoned?" I couldn't help my imagination get the better of me. What if he was set free when all the evidence magically disappeared? What if the defence was able to create enough reasonable doubt for the jury to deem him innocent? What if he didn't get a long enough sentence?

I had filmed a video of my witness statement for the courts several days ago, and that was traumatic enough. If I had to do it again in an appeal the defence made up to weaken the case, I wouldn't be able to go up in front of the world and tell my story. I couldn't share with them all my years of weakness as I allowed myself to be abused by the man who was meant to protect me.

"He's going to be put away, Katsu. Don't even put that into the universe." A displeased expression flew over Juna's face as she turned to me, cringing even at how I could think of that happening. I knew it was irrational. The case was solid. There was no way for him to snake out of this one. But, still... I couldn't help but worry.

"Oh!" Juna suddenly gasped, placing a hand on her bursting belly. She was a matter months away from the due date, so the gasp in surprised caused fear of a miscarriage to circulate my brain. I called out, questioning her what was wrong as I lifted the sheets off my legs. She laughed, jumping up and pushing me back on the bed before I could even rest my covered feet on the cold floor. I was only allowed one assisted lap around the hospital floor a day, and I had already used that token up.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Here." She smiled, taking my hand and placing it where her's had previously been. There, I felt a pressure poking from her belly and recoiled in uneasy disgust. She laughed at my childish reaction to her baby kicking and went to sit down again.

Biting the tip of my thumb, the reality of her birthing a child of her own hit me again. At least, for this one, they might not have to worry as much as we did growing up. They would still be hidden from the world, hidden from what remained of my father's mob, but maybe they would have some freedom to be happy and childish for longer than we did.

"That smells really good." I sighed, trying to distract myself from those lingering thoughts, referring to her takeout food. It felt like years since I had swallowed something solid. My stomach felt empty most of the time, but thanks to the IVs, I never felt truly hungry. Just a little uncomfortable.

Juna laughed at me, explaining that she knew I wasn't really allowed solids yet. "I had pudding yesterday! Come on, just a noodle." I pointed one finger up to show how little I needed. My jaw almost felt weak; not using it for so long. She laughed again, picking up a strand between two fingers and dropping it into her mouth teasingly.

The more we talked and she teased me, the more relaxed I became. It was only when she left did I ever let my thoughts return. Let them consume me the way they did. As she told me what romantic thing Kanto had done this morning, a knock came to my door. We both turned and my eyes grew at who stood there.

For a moment, I saw the man that fed me when I was in captivity. He smiled, holding a bag of candies in one hand, showing it to me like it was a prize. I yelled, screaming as I jumped out of my bed and pushed myself to the back corner.

"No! Go away!" I cried out, him watching my reaction made his expression fall.

"Katsu! Katsumi, calm down! It's just Noburu." Juna ran to me from the other side of the bed and held my shoulders to try and stop my kicking. Tears streamed down my face as I begged for the man to leave. I didn't want the kindness he showed me, I was so sure it was what made me feel the true extent of the pain I felt.

Soon enough, nurses came rushing in, pushing passed the man that stayed in the doorway, face blank with shock. When they couldn't calm me down, I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and my consciousness quickly faded.

~~~~~~

"This is the worst day she's had so far." Katsumi's doctor told the man and woman that stayed in her room as she slept in the bed. After her breakdown, the surgeon was called to help explain why she had reacted so vividly and check up on her condition. Luckily, she hadn't ripped a stitch from her surgery.

"But she knew Noburu before it happened. Why would she think he was one of her captors? She hasn't seen him in weeks!" Juna fretted, sympathetic worry spreading across her face as the bartender looked at the sleeping beauty guiltily.

"I don't know, but you can't come again. Not until she's healed. She still has weeks of rehab ahead of her." The doctor turned to the young man and he nodded solemnly.

"Surely she'd learn to remember what Noburu really looks like?" Feeling sorry for the man she knew loved her sister, Juna pleaded his case.

"It's too risky when she's still in this vulnerable stage. When she can fall asleep unaided and have a peaceful night, then you can try. I'm sorry, but you need to leave." Doctor shaking his head, Noburu left, leaving the treats he knew Katsumi would have loved on the table at the end of her bed.

~~~~~~

"What's this?" Instructor Kaga asked as I laid in my bed, staring intensely out the window. When I was sleeping, I had another dream about my captors, but this one seemed so surreal, it had really shaken me up. I hadn't talked to any of the nurses and my mood, not to mention my mental stability, was completely at rock bottom.

"Juna left it for me. You can have it, I'm not allowed to eat." I groaned, shuffling onto my back and sitting up to see Kaga already sifting through it. From what I suspected, he had come to tell me the result of my father's hearing, but all he had done so far was steal my-get-well-soon presents.

Sitting in silence, I bit the tip of my thumb to distract the nerves in my stomach. Kaga seemed very content with chewing on the soft sugary treat gifted to me.

"Will you tell me already?" I called out, throwing my fists into my mattress in irritation. Kaga looked at me with a raised brow, his demeaningly concerned look replaced on his face. "My father's trial. You came to tell me what happened, right?" I asked again, needing to know. The anticipation was too much.

"I don't know yet," Kaga grumbled and returned to the squishy cake in between his fingers. I frowned, crossing my arms and turning to look out the window again. It was still raining, even though a day had passed since I was last awake.

The silence was almost too much to bear, so, with a desperate need to cover my thoughts, I grabbed the remote controller on the table beside my bed and pointed it to the radio on the counter across the room. Classical music with a leading group of strings burst from it and I closed my eyes as I tried to drown out my thoughts and every sensory memory I had of weeks prior.

Suddenly, the volume decreased significantly and my gaze shot open to see Kaga standing beside it.

"Are you 90?" He frowned, throwing the pink packaging of the cake in the trash can by the door as he returned to the couch.

"It's my sister's. She helps me calm down." I sighed, turning it up again, although keeping it lower than before as it seemed to annoy him so much. Then, Kaga sprung up again, approaching my bed.

"You won't be able to recover if you just block it out." He placed a hand on the bar above my head and the other on the guarded rail on my bed, leaning in close so all my senses were enveloped by him. His smoke and cologne scent. His face was all I could see. His words repeated over and over again in my head. The warmth of his chest emitting onto my slightly cooler body. My eyes grew wide and I felt my heart stop due to the proximity.

"You need to learn to deal with that if you want to return to the academy." His voice was low and the comment made my head jerk in surprise. He thought I was going to return to my old life? After all the trouble I caused?

"There's no chance I can get back in. My entire resume is fake, let alone my application. I thought I was going to get kicked if I didn't work for you." I frowned my brows, saddened to have to admit I would never be able to complete my dream. Looking down, I found the arm he had encompassed over me. Running my gaze down to his hand, I noticed his knuckles white with pressure.

Before Kaga could retort, a small voice came from the doorway. "Instructor, I have the files you asked for."

Watching Kaga draw back, my eyes locked with a girl I once had a close connection with. She looked tired, a little worse for wear, but most of all, she was teary-eyed.

"Naruko," I uttered under my breath, honestly shocked to see her here. She just stood there, holding onto a beige folder. Kaga stormed over, snatching it from her.

"You're late." He grumbled, taking it and reading through it. I gulped when Naruko's gaze didn't fall from mine.

"Would you come here already? I can't exactly get up." I smiled through blurry vision, trying to reconnect with the girl I left behind. Her shoulder slumped and she ran towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"What the hell, Atsuko! I thought you were dead! I mean, you were dead! How could you betray me?" She shouted in my ear the name she knew me by, tears flying down her face and onto my shoulder. I bit my lip guiltily.

"I'm sorry but... How did I betray you?" I laughed when she pulled back and showed me an out of character frown.

"You said we would graduate together! Why did you leave?" She frowned and my breathing stopped. The happiness I nurtured from seeing her slowly died as I was reminded once again of what I couldn't accomplish.

"He's got life." Kaga suddenly announced, drawing both of our attention towards him. He still had his gaze in the folder, but I knew what he was talking about. My father... He's going to die in prison?

"What?" I asked, feeling Naruko's confusion as she was pushed further into the unknown of my situation. Even though I had an idea of what he was on about, I wanted to make sure. I wanted to make sure I wasn't being hopeful.

"He's got 100 years in jail for ratting some of his partners. He’ll probably be dead by the time that’s up." Kaga seemed hesitant at first but still told me. I gripped the sheets by my leg and reached for my phone on the table.

"You, go back to the academy." Kaga shot a glare at Naruko and she quickly followed his order by running to the door. Before she left, she passed me a meaningful smile and closed the door behind her.

"You're going to recover and you're returning to work," Kaga announced once he was sure Naruko was gone as I stared at my phone, desperately trying to make sense of the clusters of blur in front of me. My vision still hadn't corrected, but I was growing a sense of understanding when I could see the characters. It was so frustrating, trying to see when I knew couldn't. No matter how hard I squinted or how sternly I stared at the object, I couldn't make sense of anything. I couldn't even see my sister's face when she hugged me. I couldn't see myself in the mirror. Just a blur of skin and the white of my hospital gown.  

"I can't! How am I supposed to be a detective when I can't even stop this from happening?" I shouted, suddenly enraged by how poor my eyesight had gotten, throwing my phone into the wall of my hospital room to dismiss my problems. It fell into reconnectable pieces at the force.

"I became a cop to protect us, but I failed at that. Juna got kidnapped and I put her baby in danger. All I did at the academy was make mistake after mistake. My recklessness put complete strangers in danger! A boy almost lost his mom! How can I work when whatever I do gets people hurt?" I shouted, tears spilling from my eyes when I didn't care who heard me. I was angry and sad and broken and I just wanted to cry.

Suddenly, I felt arms around me. My head was pulled against a soft, hard surface and I felt a warm breath on my hair. My eyes widened when I realised Kaga was holding me, trying to calm me down.

"You're always so damn loud." I heard him mutter as more tears spilt from my eyes. I clutched the arm around my front for support, needing to know that I wasn't in that room. I needed to know this was reality because lately, I've been having trouble differentiating.

“Just shut up for a minute and remember where you are. Forget the past. It won’t do you any good.”

At some point during my pathetic weeping, with the little sleep I had been getting, I slipped into unaided unconsciousness, something else I’d been struggling with since I was saved.

[iandeleonwrites]

Ian’s Case: A Personal Statement for Grad School Admission

Personal Statement, Ian Deleón

“He felt something strike his chest, and that his body was being thrown swiftly through the air, on and on, immeasurably far and fast, while his limbs were gently relaxed.”

It was more than a decade ago when I first read those words. Written by the American author Willa Cather, Paul’s Case: A Study in Temperament has always felt to me like an intimate account of my own life penned by a woman one hundred years in the past. 

That is a feeling which makes me proud; that my personal whims, fears, and desires, could find their echo long ago in a story about a young man and his pursuit of a meaningful life. Because of it, I felt a pleasing sense of historicity at a time when I was struggling so much with my own. 

I grew up in Miami Beach. Literally not more than a block away from water for most of my life. My father had emigrated from Cuba with his family in 1980. My mother had come on a work visa from Brazil a few years later. They met on the beach, had an affair, and I came into the world in May of 1987. 

My life was marked with in betweenness from the very beginning. My parents’ relationship did not last long, so I grew up traveling between houses. I had two families. I was American, but I was also Cuban and Brazilian. I even have a Brazilian passport. I spoke three languages fluently, but I couldn’t dance salsa or samba. I felt at home with the working class immigrants and people of color in my neighborhoods, but I often had to work hard to prove I wasn’t just some gringo with a knack for foreign tongues.  

[A quick note on Paul’s Case––If it happens that the reader is not familiar with the short story, let me briefly summarize it here:  A disenchanted youth in turn of the century Pittsburgh feels increasingly alienated from his schoolmates, his teachers and his family. His only comfort is his position as an usher at Carnegie Hall, where he loses himself in the glamour of the art life. Having no drive or desire to become an artist, however, the dandy Paul makes a spur of the moment criminal decision and elopes to New York City. There, he is able to live out his fantasies in a financial masquerade for about a week’s time, until the authorities back home finger him for monetary theft. Learning that his father is en route to the city to collect him, Paul travels to the countryside and flings himself in front of a speeding train, musing about the elegant brevity of winter flowers.]

When I first encountered Cather’s short story I was blown away by the parallels I saw between my own life and Paul’s. In 2005, fresh out of high school, I was living mostly with my father as my mother had relocated to faraway West Palm Beach. I was an usher at the local concert hall, a job I cherished enough to volunteer my time for free. I became entranced by the world of classical music, opera, theater, and spectacle––often showing up for work early and roaming the performance spaces, probing high and low like some kind of millenial phantom. 

In school, however, I had no direction, no plan. I had good enough grades, but no real motivation, and worst of all, I thought, no discernible talent. I probably resented my father for not being cultured enough to teach me about music, theater, and the arts. No one in my family had ever even been to a museum, or sat before a chamber orchestra. And it didn’t seem to matter to them either, they could somehow live blissfully without it. 

Well I couldn’t. I began to mimic the fervor with which Paul immersed himself in that world, while also exhibiting the same panic at the thought of not being able to sustain my treasured experiences without a marketable contribution to them. But here is where Paul and I take divergent paths. 

I was attending the Miami Dade Honors College, breezing my way towards an associate’s degree. I took classes in Oceanography, Sociology, Creative Writing, Acting and African Drumming. I was experimenting and falling in love with everything. 

But it was my Creative Writing professor, Michael Hettich, who really encouraged the development of my nascent writing talent. Up until that point my ideas only found their expression through class assignments, particularly book reports and essays on historical events. My sister had always felt I had a way with words, but I just attributed this to growing up in a multicultural environment amongst a diversity of native languages.  

As a result of that encouragement I began to write poetry, little songs and treatments for film ideas based on the short stories we were talking about in class. Somehow, thanks to those lines of poetry and a few amateur photographic self portraits, I was admitted to the Massachusetts College of Art & Design for my BFA program. 

There, I attended classes in Printmaking, Paper Making, Performance Art, Video Editing, and Glass Blowing. I was immersed in culture, attending lectures and workshops, adding new words to my vocabulary: “New Media” and “gestalt”. I saw my first snowfall. I had the dubious honor of appearing at once not Hispanic and yet different enough. I was overwhelmed. I felt increasingly disenchanted and out of place in New England, yet my work flourished and grew stronger. 

It was during this time that I developed a passion for live performance and engagement with an audience. I also worked with multi-channel video and sculptural installations. Always, I commented on my family history, grappling with it, the emigrations and immigrations. I even returned to those early short stories from Miami Dade, one time doing an interpretive movement piece based on The Yellow Wallpaper. Most often I talked about my father. He was even in a few of my projects. He was a good sport, though we still had the occasional heated political disagreement. We never held any grudges, and made up again rather quickly. It would always be that way, intense periods of warming and cooling. A tropical temperament, I suppose. 

I continued to take film-related classes in Boston, but my interests gradually became highly abstracted, subtle, and decidedly avant-garde. I had no desire to work in a coherently narrative medium. This would eventually change, but for now, I let my ambitions and aspirations take me where they would. 

I returned home to Miami for a spell after graduation. I traveled the world for five months after that. I moved back to Boston for another couple of years, because it was comfortable I suppose, though I was fed up with the weather. 

Finally, I wound up in NYC. Classic story: I followed a charming young woman, another performance artist as luck would have it, a writer too, and a bit of an outsider. We were quickly engaged and on the first anniversary of our meet cute we were married on a gorgeous piece of land in upstate new york, owned by an older performance-loving couple from the city. Piece of land doesn’t quite do it justice, we’re talking massive tracts, hidden acres of forest, sudden lakes, fertile fields, and precocious wildlife. As they say in the movies, it really is all about location, location, location. 

Nearly all of our significant personal and professional achievements in the subsequent years have centered around this bucolic homestead. After meeting, courting, researching and eventually getting married there, we soon decided we would stage our most ambitious project to date in this magical space––we would shoot...a movie.

We hit upon the curious story of an eighteenth century woman in England called Mary Toft. Dear Mary became famous for a months-long ruse that involved her supposed birthing of rabbits, and sometimes cats. The small town hoax ballooned into a national controversy when it was eventually exposed by some of the king’s physicians. My wife and I were completely enthralled by this story and its contemporary implications. Was Mary wholly complicit in the mischievous acts, or was she herself a sort of duped victim...of systematic abuse at the hands of her family, her husband, her country? 

We soon found a way to adapt and give this tale a modern twist that recast Mary as a woman of color alone in the woods navigating a host of creepy men, a miscarriage, and a supernatural rabbit. 

Over the course of nine months, our idea gestated and began taking the form of a short film screenplay. This was something neither of us had done or been adequately trained to do before. But we knew we wanted it to be special, it was our passion project. We knew we didn’t want it to look amateurish––we were too old for that. So we took out a loan, hired an amazing camera crew, and in three consecutive days in the summer of 2017 we filmed our story, Velvet Cry. It was the most difficult thing either of us had undertaken...including planning our nuptial ceremony around our difficult families. 

It was an incredible experience––intoxicating––also quite maddening and stressful. But it was all worth it. Because of our work schedules, it took us another year to finish post production on the film, but throughout that process, I knew I had found my calling. I would be a writer, and I would be a Director. 

Perhaps I had been too afraid to dream the big dream before. Perhaps I had lacked the confidence, or simply, the life experience to tackle the complexity of human emotions, narratives, and interactions––but no longer. This is what I wanted to do and I had to find a way to get better at doing it. 

In the intervening months, I have set myself on a course to develop my writing abilities as quickly as I could in anticipation of this application process. I know I have some latent talent, but it has been a long time since I’ve been in an academic setting, and in any case, I have never really attempted to craft drama on this scale before. 

I’ve read many books, listened to countless interviews, attended online classes, and most importantly, written my heart out since relocating down the coast to the small college town of Gainesville in Central Florida with my wife in June of 2018. It was through a trip to her alma mater of Hollins University that we learned about the co-ed graduate program in screenwriting a few months ago. After all the debt I accrued in New England, I didn’t think I would ever go back to college, though I greatly enjoyed the experience. But what we learned about the program filled me with confidence and a desire to share in the wonderful legacy of this school that my wife is always gushing about. 

Our Skype conversation with Tim Albaugh proved to be the deciding factor. I knew instantly that I wanted to be a part of anything that he was involved with, and I had the feeling that my ideas would truly be nurtured and harnessed into a craft––something tangible I could be proud of and use to propel my career. 

I continue to mine my childhood and adolescence in Miami for critical stories and characters, situations that shed light on my own personal experience of life. I’ve found myself coming back to Paul’s Case. No longer caught up in the character’s stagnant, brooding longings for a grander life, I’m now able to revisit the story, appreciating the young man’s anxieties while evaluating how it all went so fatally wrong for Paul. There was no reason to despair, no cause for lost hope. I would take the necessary steps to become the artist I already know myself to be. The screenplay I am submitting as my writing sample is a new adaptation of this story, making Paul my own, and giving him a little bit of that South Florida flavor. 

I will close by reiterating how I have visited Hollins, and heard many a positive review from the powerful women I know who have attended college there. As a graduate student, I know Hollins can help me to become a screenwriter, to become a filmmaker. This is the only graduate program to which I am applying––I have a very good feeling about all this.

I want to be a Hollins girl. 

[amyscascadingtabs]

i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 5. love, you’re not alone

read on ao3

read earlier chapters

Amy mourns, important conversations take place, and a new decision is made.

june, cont.

Amy has never called in sick for three days in a row before.

She's been on leaves, and the odd sick day is inevitable when you have a kid at daycare, but it's never been more than one or two days before she’s at least attempted to work from home. Now she can't even make herself do that.

Technically, she’s perfectly healthy, which should probably exacerbate the guilt she feels over calling in sick, but not even her FOMOW is strong enough to drag her out of the cave of misery she’s dug herself into.

 It's unlike her. She's Amy Santiago, she's a vessel of productivity more days than not, and even on lazier days, she'll have the energy to go about her daily life. This zombie-like existence, where it'll take three repeats before she notices her own name and she's uncertain when she last ate a full meal, isn't what her life is like. She's been sad before, she's been heartbroken and on the verge of giving up, but it's never enveloped her quite like this. She’s never felt this alone with her pain, because there’s no one to be mad at, no external circumstances or evil forces at work. The only things she can be angry at is her body, bad luck, and maybe fate, but she can’t put up a fight against either.

On the first day after what she supposes is the start of an early miscarriage, Amy googles, scouring the Internet for more information about chemical pregnancies. Her research feels largely pointless. It’s common, there’s nothing she could have done, it’s all down to a chromosomal accident. A chemical pregnancy can be seen as a good sign, one of the websites encourages her, and she snorts. It’s proof you’re able to get pregnant at all, she reads, and maybe it’s true, but it doesn’t give much comfort. After eight months of trying for twelve hours of euphoria that were ruined by a genetic fluke, she’d have wished for more reassurance.

 On the second day, she gets out of bed and dressed, thinking she can trick herself into going back to work and pretend like everything’s fine if she gets far enough. It nearly works and Jake looks relieved when Leah and her hug goodbye, but once she’s in the car, the panic attack from two days ago flashes past her eyes and she’s shaking until she can get out of the vehicle and walk back up the stairs to their apartment. She spends the rest of the day in bed. At first, she doesn’t cry, but then she hears Leah asking from the other side of the door about what she’s doing and her heart shatters hearing Jake try to explain that mama’s just tired, she’ll play with you again tomorrow.

 On the third day, she really tries. She gets started on a presentation for work and lets Leah pretend to make her coffee in her play kitchen, and she does feel better until her phone buzzes with news from the Santiago family group chat; David and his wife are having another baby. A welcome surprise, the message reads, and Jake has to hold her until she stops crying. Amy’s wracked with guilt as Leah brings her stuffed animal after animal, her eyes wide with distraught confusion.

 It’s after the fourth day things take a turn. As far as her days of mourning - because she supposes it is mourning, after all - have gone, day four is subdued. Equally as gray, but not as sharply painful. It’s as if someone muted the volume in their apartment and slowed down their movements, turning everything into a lackadaisical haze. Even Leah is quieter than usual, almost acting a bit nervous around her, but when the evening comes she lets Amy read her bedtime stories and she falls asleep with her hand on Amy’s cheek. It’s the most peaceful and content Amy’s felt since six days ago.

 “We have the best kid,” she mumbles as she curls up with her head on Jake’s shoulder ten minutes later, and he gives her an agreeing smile. “I think I’m going back to work tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“I need to get back to normal. I’m starting to miss it, anyway.”

“Can’t cure that FOMOW easily, huh?”

She ignores the comment. “Is the precinct still standing without me?”

He laughs. “Barely. On that note... I got a request from Holt to go on this stakeout for two days. I think I have to take it, because, well - we’ve taken a lot of days off recently.”

“Yeah, of course. I can handle a bit of solo-parenting.”

“Actually -” Jake’s voice is apologetic, tinged with a bit of regret, and Amy’s instantly on edge, lifting her head from his shoulder. “- I was thinking Leah could stay with my mom for a few days.”

“Why would she need to do that?”

“Ames, don’t take this personally -”

“I’ll decide that for myself.”

“But I think it’d be better for both of you.” Jake’s eyes are boring into hers, and there’s a gravity to his tone she wasn't expecting. “I know you don’t want this to affect her, but I think it does, even if she doesn’t understand why, and… maybe you need a couple days on your own.”

 She blinks, trying to make sense of his words. “So now I can’t be a parent to my own daughter because I'm sad over this?”

“Not what I was saying.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not,” he asks, face twisted in a pained expression, and it takes all her self control not to get up and slam the door to their bedroom. She’s learned from her mistakes, though, so this time she listens. “I love you, so much, but I don’t know how to help you when you don’t want to talk to me, and I don’t know what to say to Leah when she keeps asking why you’re sad. She notices so much - it doesn’t feel fair to her.”

“No, but it’s not forever. It’ll get better,” she says, more to ease her own remorse. “And what do you mean I don’t want to talk to you? We’ve talked.”

“Not for real.”

“What do you mean, not for real?”

“You haven’t asked me how I feel about this, for example.” She opens her mouth, but he shakes his head. “Don't do it because you think you have to. I know it’s worse for you. But I’m disappointed, too, you know?” He bites his lip. “I think we all need a break before we go crazy.”

 She wants to object, but part of her knows he's right. They’re going crazy. Mostly her, but she can tell it’s affecting her family too, despite how desperately she wishes it wasn’t. She reluctantly swallows her anger for now - most of it is only poorly concealed guilt, anyway - and nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” The tension fades from his expression as he exhales, watching her like he’s searching for signs of protest.

Amy shrugs. “I feel like the world’s worst parent. But sure.”

“You’re not,” he whispers, wrapping her in a hug as she buries her face in his neck for comfort. “This is just really, really hard.”

-

Her bad conscience is even worse when she wakes up the next morning. It's made easier by Leah jumping with glee at the question of whether she wants to have a sleepover at grandma’s house, but hugging her daughter goodbye at daycare is still extra difficult. It takes five minutes longer than usual and enough cheek kisses to make the toddler try to wriggle herself out of Amy’s arms, and she’s still fighting tears when she gets in the car. She turns the music up so she won’t have to think, but her phone shuffles to Paper Rings by Taylor Swift and endless memories of family dance parties to the song flood her brain.

She turns it off.

Five seconds later, she turns it on again and lets the memories be a welcome reminder of why she has to keep fighting. By the time she reaches the precinct’s garage, she’s singing along at the top of her lungs.

 She expects her first day back at work to be complicated, making abundantly clear how much she’s missed out on, but it’s not. After helping Holt out with a briefing, going through emails and submitting a work order for another broken fridge, she’s back to feeling like her efficient, professional self. She can do this. She can move on with her life and put this behind her. She can even follow the squad out for drinks later and have a glass of red wine for the first time in two months, enough to get her tipsy and laugh too loud at Rosa’s narration of a lively debate between Charles and a suspect about the ranking of different cheeses. Karen texts her a video of Leah pretending she’s Elsa from Frozen and gliding over the living room floor while singing the same lines of Let It Go on repeat, and her heart aches a little, but the guilt is easing. Jake sends her an update on the stakeout, asking if she’s doing okay, and for once, she doesn’t have to lie when she writes back I’m doing good.

 -

 She starts her second day back doing paperwork, but she doesn’t get far before she’s interrupted.

“Hey. Amy.”

She looks up from the stack of papers. “Rosa?”

“I need your help with this witness.” Rosa cocks her head in the direction of the corridor. “I know she saw my perp, but she’s confused and I don’t think she trusts me. I was wondering if you could help me talk to her? You’re much better with the emotional ones.”

“Ooh!” Amy shines up. “Is this another case for the Sleuth Sisters?”

“If it’s what gets you on board, then, sure.”

 Rosa briefs her on the case before they go in, and it doesn't take much to wake Amy's excitement. As much as she loves being a lieutenant, likes the administrative work and appreciates the more flexible hours, she does miss the constant surprises and adrenaline rushes that come with being out in the field. She even misses this, the simple interacting with people in order to both help them and discover new clues, anything leading closer to a solved case. She enters the room with a pep in her step and an ambition to help, but freezes when she sees the witness.

 At first, she wonders if it's the same tension she’s felt the handful of times she's had to question a familiar face - an identical twin of a high school bully, or a former neighbor she held a grudge against - but it only takes a closer look to realize that's not the issue. Amy doesn't recognize this woman.

The witness simply happens to be very pregnant.

 She doesn’t ask, because it’s not pertinent to the case, but Amy would put the woman at around six-seven months. Too far along for it to go unnoticed, not yet at the point where it looks like you’ve swallowed an exercise ball. She remembers loving that part of pregnancy, with the nausea gone and the energy returning. Her jealousy is a physical ache when she sees the witness placing her palm high up on her stomach, smiling in the same way Amy remembers she would do whenever she’d feel kicks.

The woman is shy at first, talking in a low voice with short sentences, and she keeps her hands atop the baby bump the whole time. Amy doesn’t blame her - she knows how naturally the instinct comes - but it doesn’t keep her from wishing the woman would stop drawing more attention to her state.

She doesn’t remember what questions she asks. She doesn’t remember what the woman answers. She makes notes but isn’t sure what she’s writing. All she can focus on is how the witness seems to personify the romanticized pregnancy glow, with shiny, thick hair and a cute bump. Amy’s using so much willpower in order not to cry, panic, or leave the room, it’s making her sweat, and yet she can tell from Rosa’s quizzical glances that her behavior is conspicuous. She can’t hide her envious anxiety, because every instance the woman touches her belly is another reminder of the pregnancy Amy thought she had and lost.

 Amy rushes towards the women’s bathroom the second it’s over. She needs to breathe, put her head between her knees and let the tears come until she’s cried out every drop of frustration over her situation, the unfairness of it all, the deep shame in not even being able to feel happy for someone else anymore. She’s disgusted with herself. Eight months of limbo trying to conceive has officially made her insane.

She’s leaning over the sink and splashing cold water on her face when Rosa catches up with her.

“Amy? What the fuck was that about?”

“Nothing. It was nothing,” she rambles. “I’m good. Great.”

“No, you’re acting weirder than usual, and something’s clearly up. Come on.” Rosa’s grip on her wrist is firm without feeling pressuring, and Amy’s too shaky to protest, so she follows her friend to the evidence locker.

“Can you sit down?” Amy nods. “Okay, great. Do you need your meds?” She manages another, more tentative, nod. “Okay, wait here and I’ll get them. Handbag, outer pocket, right?”

 Rosa disappears before she can confirm the information. She returns a couple of minutes later with two cups of tea and a prescription bottle, handing Amy the anxiety medication and gesturing at her to sit down before giving her a stern look.

“Okay, Santiago. Tell me what’s up before I get mad at you for making that witness feel weirded out.”

“I’m sorry.” Amy twists the cap, swallowing one of the pills before sitting down on the floor next to Rosa, their backs against a shelf of cardboard boxes. “You didn’t tell me she was pregnant.”

“No, because I didn’t know it was something you would act all loony about.” Rosa raises a brow. “What’s up? Are you pregnant again? That’s usually when you’re crying in here.”

She sighs, twisting back the cap and placing it on the floor beside her. “No, I’m not pregnant.”

“So?”

“We’ve been trying since fall,” Amy blurts out, admitting it to someone else for the first time in six months. “With IVF, now, but I’m still not pregnant. I almost was. Or I was, but I had an early miscarriage, so… no.”

Rosa nods slowly, bringing the cup of tea to her lips. “Damn.”

“It took eight months before we got a positive test. Ovulation testing, scheduling, IVF with shots and pills and money and a billion doctor’s visits. Then we finally found out I was pregnant.” The words are flying out of her, an unstoppable flow once she’s found them. “Except not even a day later, we found out it wasn’t happening, the numbers were too low. Chemical pregnancy. It’s why I was gone last week.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip. “God, it’s so good to tell someone.” “Uh-huh. Wait.” Rosa scrunches her nose and knits her brows like Amy just critiqued The Holiday. “You haven’t told anyone?”

Amy laughs. “How would I do that? Call a briefing, stand in front of everyone and say hi, just so everyone knows, I’m trying to have another baby but I have shitty ovaries so it’s not going well and it’s making me depressed? Sure.”

“Not a public announcement, dum-dum. But you could have told your friends.”

“I didn’t want people to know. It’s been hard enough to deal with on my own. ”

“And I get that,” Rosa nods. “But there are people here who care about you. We could have been there for you.”

“How? Steered me away from every pregnant woman in case I start crying? I’m sorry, Rosa, but I don’t see how it would work.”

“Maybe not, but we could have helped! I could have known not to ask you to work with me on this specific witness instead of sitting through that shitshow!” She groans. “I know you hate accepting help or whatever, but you’re not alone in this, even if you think you are.”

Amy looks down at her shoes. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. Just… don’t torture yourself over this more than you have to. It’s not worth it.”

 They sit like that for another moment, no sounds but the occasional sips of tea and heavy breaths as Amy feels the anxiety fade from a heavy storm to a cool breeze. She still feels guilty over ruining the case for Rosa, for the poor pregnant woman who probably thinks Amy’s a sociopath, but the tea and company are helping more than she can express. She knows Rosa’s right, too - she’s been keeping this pain mostly to herself for so long, never considering the option of talking about it. It’s a little bit of performance anxiety, a little bit of embarrassment and a little bit of stigma. She’s not supposed to struggle with getting pregnant.

 “I guess I was afraid if I talked about it, it would make it more real.” The realization takes shape as she speaks it. “Like, as long as we didn’t tell anyone, I could pretend it wasn’t happening.”

“But it’s already real, isn’t it? Talking about it won’t change that.”

“I guess not.”

Much to Amy’s surprise, her friend, who could and probably would break Amy’s arm if she hugged her without asking, lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it gently.

“Look, I get if you don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s fine. But if you want to come over tonight, watch a Nancy Meyers movie and drink tequila, you can. I won’t bully you if you cry.”

The sentiment is sweet, and so very Rosa of her, it makes Amy throw her arms around her best friend in gratitude, risking the fact that she might lose her arm. Rosa grunts, but then she leans into the hug for a brief, precious moment before disentangling herself.

“I’ll expect you at eight,” Rosa says before collecting their teacups and standing up. “Bring pizza.”

This time, Amy manages a proper smile. “I’ll be there.”

 -

 She tries to get back to work, but her focus is done and the precinct appears calm, so she takes the freedom of working from home for the rest of the day. There are only three hours left until she’s supposed to pick up Leah, anyway, and the apartment could use some cleaning. Her daughter’s room, in particular, is a mess so thorough Amy’s nearly impressed, but mostly shocked by how a person so tiny can create so much chaos. There’s no question about which parent the child inherited her non-existent organization skills from, she thinks, and gets to work on pairing together different puzzle pieces with their boxes.

 It’s when she’s laying on her stomach, trying to get a hold of the pieces that’s made their way underneath Leah’s bed, that she finds something. There’s a plastic bag pushed all the way to the wall, and she reaches for it to see what it is. She can’t see clearly through the packaging, so she unwraps it, pulling out a white toddler-size t-shirt with black arms and fancified gold writing that reads Promoted To Big Sister.

The heaviness in her chest returns with a vengeance when she realizes Jake must have ordered it - either during the few hours they thought they were having another baby, or even earlier. She clutches the item to her chest and closes her eyes, anticipating the tears.

 “Shit. I was hoping you wouldn’t find that.”

Amy turns her head to find Jake standing in the door opening. It's clear from the messy hair and crumpled t-shirt that he's coming straight from a long work shift without showering first, and the bags under his eyes make her wonder when he last slept.

“It's okay,” she says quickly, folding the item so she can't see the design. “Just… can you take it?”

He nods, taking it from her hands and sitting down across from her on the gray long-pile rug, putting the shirt behind his back.

“I can hide that better. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Amy snivels. “It's fine. I'm fine.” She stands up, picking up a stuffed Ikea shark from the floor and putting it on Leah's bed.

“You're cleaning.”

“Yeah.” She finds an illustrated Harry Potter-book at the foot of the bed and returns it to its shelf. “It calms me. How was the stakeout?”

“Good,” he nods. “How are you?”

“I'm okay. I think. How are you?”

His smile bears heavy traces of exhaustion. “Also okay, I think. Did a lot of thinking while I was away, actually.”

“Yeah.” Amy picks up a basket of fabric vegetables, putting them near the play kitchen before she sits down across from Jake again. “So did I.”

“Do you want to share, or…?”

“No - you go first.”

 Jake grimaces. They’ve gotten better at this over the years, finding a balance between his hesitancy to lay bare his emotions in serious conversation and her tendency to read into details and draw the worst conclusions posthaste, but she can still sense his discomfort as he reaches for a stuffed dragon from Leah’s bed, squeezing it to keep his hands occupied.

“I know I don’t know what it feels like,” he says slowly. “It’s not my body that’s…”

“Broken,” she fills in reflexively.

“Putting up a bit of a fight,” he corrects her with an unyielding look. “But you’ve been acting a bit like it doesn’t hurt for me, too. I know it was only a day, but for that day… I was already ordering that shirt for Lee, you know? I was so excited.”

“I know. I’ve really been busy feeling sorry for myself, huh?” She tries to laugh, but the chuckle dies out like a droplet of water swallowed by a raging fire.

“No, you’ve been suffering. Don’t be mad at yourself for that. Just… you’re not alone in this.” His hand reaches out to hold hers, and she squeezes it tight.

“It’s funny. Rosa told me the same thing today.”

“You talked to Rosa?”

“Yeah. I’m going over there for Nancy Meyers and tequila tonight.”

“Good, you need it.”

“I do, huh?” This time, the quiet laughter survives. The corners of Jake’s mouth quirk up.

 She's missed seeing him smile, she realizes. She's missed sharing happiness with him. They’ve had moments of hope, and even when everything has felt dark, they've still smiled and had fun with their daughter; but she wonders when they last laughed at something trivial just the two of them. It feels like ages.

“I miss our normal life,” she says, because it's the only way she can think of to describe it. “I’m sorry I brought you into this mess. It's all my fault.”

Jake frowns. “No, we agreed on trying IVF.”

“I meant, I'm sorry we're struggling at all.”

“I don't think I get it -”

“It's my body that's the problem, right? If only you’d married a woman with well-functioning ovaries, you wouldn't be sitting here.”

 She's serious, but the way he narrows his eyes and looks at her like he doesn't know if she's joking or not, makes her giggle. He joins in, shaking his head in disbelief, and for a moment, it feels like old times.

“I know this might be hard to believe,” he grins, “but Amy Santiago, I did not marry you for your ovaries.”

“Well, that's a relief.”

“I swear. I love you, more than anything in the world except our daughter, and that means I love all parts of you.”

“Even my shitty ovaries?”

Jake rolls his eyes lovingly. “They wouldn't be the first thing I listed, but, yes. I love them too.”

She laughs again. “Thanks, babe.”

“You're welcome.”

“I love you, too.” Amy closes the short bit of distance between them, wrapping him in a close hug as they sit there on the carpet. She's sniveling again, drying her eyes against his flannel, and he strokes her upper back and kisses the top of her head as he holds her. “So, so much.”

 They sit like that for a moment, not moving more than the slightest of shifts, another soft kiss pressed to a neck or a cheek.

“Do you want to think about the next step?” Jake asks, and she nods.

“We still have two frozen embryos left - we could transfer those and hope one sticks.”

His eyes gleam in that mischievous way she recognizes so well, maybe even from the first day they became partners. “And are we doing both at once?”

“I guess we might as well, right?”

Jake pumps his fist in a childish victory gesture, and it's Amy's turn to roll her eyes. Her skepticism is half-hearted, though, because it's hard to remain unaffected by his infectious happiness.

“I can't wait to be a family of five with you,” he whispers into her ear, pulling her onto his lap, and she groans.

“You’ve got to stop saying that, I swear you’re going to jinx it.”

  ~

 august.

Maybe it’s the fact that she’s gotten used to it, that she’s not forcing her body to produce an unnatural amount of mature eggs, or that she’s filled with so much now-or-never furious ambition, but Amy experiences their second attempt with fertility treatments to flow much easier. She takes the medications, is thankful they don’t involve as many injections this time, goes to checkups, and does all she can to maximize her chances in the meantime. No tip is too absurd in comparison with her desperation for this to succeed. She tries acupuncture and changes her diet. She cuts back on caffeine despite the headaches it gives her, and takes even more vitamins. She does a few tries at fertility yoga, which mostly fail when Jake walks in on her doing a very wobbly supported shoulder stand and explodes in laughter, or when Leah insists on watching and is silent for exactly one minute before she wants to use Amy as a jungle gym and tries to climb on top of her in bridge pose. At first, Amy’s frustrated, but then she thinks of the sources she’s read about laughter being able to boost fertility, and lets the yoga session turn into a giggling tickle fight with her toddler. It’s much more fun, anyway.

 She continues the tips after the transfer, too. She wears fuzzy socks for her day of bed rest even though it’s the end of July and their bedroom is uncomfortably heated as is, because keeping your feet warm is supposed to boost chances of implantation. She orders jasmine scented candles for the same reason, but it only takes a minute after lighting one for her to realize she’s wildly allergic. In the end, there’s nothing to do but wait, hope, and try to relax.

 They decide to go all-in for the relaxation part. Truthfully, it’s not as much a decision as an offer from Charles and Genevieve to tag along for free on their family vacation after a pair of Boyle cousins dropped out, and not as much relaxation as it is a change of environment to chase their dare-devil two-and-a-half-year-old around in, but it is a paid-for one-week-trip to a family-friendly resort in Mexico and they’re not going to say no. Amy packs two pregnancy tests in her bag, and they’re on their way.

She worries about whether being on vacation with Charles will inevitably mean an abundance of intrusive questions and terrifying dining choices, but either Genevieve or Jake must keep him in check, because it’s neither. Rather, having two extra adults present ends up hugely improving the vacation - there's always someone guarding the kids, and Amy finds herself finishing reading one book, a poetry collection and listening to two podcasts already in the first four days. She gets her daily workout in by chasing Leah around, trying to prevent her from jumping headfirst from the deep end of the pool. She takes turns with Jake to pretend they're sea monsters who want to eat Leah's toes while she floats around with her swim ring and puffs, laughing merrily at them both. She discovers that the best way to get her daughter to let her put on sunscreen is if she gets to watch YouTube clips on the iPad meanwhile, and reaffirms that the best way to get Jake to put it on is to do it for him, then accept his offer of returning the favor. They try out all of the resort’s playgrounds and eat a ton of ice cream to keep cool. On one of the days, Jake and Leah take a nap together in the shadow spooning on a daybed, and Amy takes about a hundred pictures before scooching her bed as close to theirs as possible.

With her heart full, and her relaxation levels higher than they've been for a long time, she almost forgets it's time to take a pregnancy test.

 -

 It's evening by the time she remembers.

Charles and Genevieve have offered to babysit Leah for a night in exchange for Jake and Amy watching Nikolaj the next, which gives them the rare chance to have a proper date night. Amy gets dressed up, opting to go the extra mile with a sleek, black, v-neck dress that hasn’t seen the light of day since their honeymoon, and paints her lips a matte red for a pop of color. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she worries it’s too much - the dress sits tighter over her hips than it used to and the makeup feels like she’s overcompensating - but the way Jake’s gaze lands on her once she steps out, how his eyes widen and he swallows a gulp of air, makes her stresses dissipate.

Eight years of dating, five years of marriage, and he still looks at her with as much awe as he did their first night together.

He’s wearing a familiar pastel pink button-down, paired tastefully with dark jeans and the curls she still goes crazy for, so Amy figures she looks at him the same way.

 It is with great willpower they make it down to the restaurant in time for their reservation, only stopping once to make out against the wall of a hotel corridor. They’re seated at a nice table near a window with an ocean view, and it takes the waiter placing two drink menus on their table for Amy to realize why it feels like she’s forgotten something.

“Shit,” she mumbles, biting her lip as she reads the wine list.

Jake looks up, a horrified look on his face. “What? Don't tell me they only have Orangina for orange soda.”

“No, it’s not that. I just remembered I don’t know if I can drink. I forgot to take a pregnancy test.”

“That’s today?”

“Yeah. I was going to take it this morning, but then we slept in and Leah woke us up by jumping in our bed...” “And then Charles knocked on our door and asked us to come down to the breakfast buffet in five minutes,” Jake nods, bringing his hand up to his chin as if he’s in deep thought. “Well, we could leave and take it now?”

Amy considers it, but as much as she wants to find out, she also wants to sit here forever. Something about the restaurant’s lighting is making her husband look especially gorgeous, and it’s been way too long since they last sat through a proper nice dinner. She needs this. They need this.

“No,” she decides, intertwining her hand with his across the table. “Let’s have a quick dinner. I won’t drink anything, and then we’ll take a test.”

“Okay. Then I won’t drink either,” Jake declares, flipping to the non-alcoholic drinks with his free hand. “Yes! Regular orange soda!”

“You don’t have to just because I can’t -”

“Ames, I’m repeating, regular orange soda. This is the opposite of a problem. Plus,” he shrugs, “I literally just want to spend time with you.”

His tone is so genuine, his smile so sweet, she can’t stop herself from leaning forward and kissing him despite the looks from their fellow restaurant-goers.

 The dinner is wonderful, yet Amy can’t shake her nervousness. It bothers her. She’s having a luxurious meal, toasting in fruity soda together with the love of her life, and she can’t even be fully present in this moment because she’s worried about what the test will show. If this attempt has failed, she’ll have to do another full round of IVF, even though the thought of more injections makes her want to scream. If they get another negative test, it’ll be ten months and counting of this taking up too big a part of their lives, and Amy’s tired.

She wants to be pregnant and she wants to have another baby, but she also wants to enjoy life with her family without worrying about cycles, ovulation tests, and clinic check-ups. She wants to go on more of these date nights, more vacations, and share a glass of wine with her husband in the evening because she can. She’s tired of rules and recommendations, of counting, scheduling, and planning. For ten months she’s tried to be patient, but now the exhaustion has begun to creep over her.

They rush back to the suite once the dinner is done. Jake waits outside the bathroom while she takes the test, tries to make her hands stop shaking as she washes them, and carefully places the test display-down on the sink. He hugs her when she comes out, and she lets herself relax for a second in his arms even though she feels sick with anxiety.

They sit on the balcony, drinking from glasses of alcohol-free champagne in silence until the timer on her phone rings. Jake goes to get the test from the bathroom, but Amy feels like she knows the result before he’s given it to her.

 The test shows a bolded, plain, Not Pregnant, and she scoots it with her foot across the balcony, getting it as far away as possible.

“I’m sorry, “ Jake whispers, letting her lean her head on his shoulder and squeezing her hand.

She exhales, forcing herself not to cry. “So am I.”

“What do we do now?”

“First, I say we order a bottle of real champagne.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t object.

 Much like it was a sudden thought that awakened a long lingering feeling when she first suggested they’d start trying, this time it's the immediate and overpowering negativity bringing up the growing sensation of impending burnout, that makes her say what she's thinking.

“I want to stop.”

Jake looks at her with as much shock as if she’d said she was thinking of canceling her Staples Rewards Membership. “You want to… stop?”

She nods.

“Like.. just… stopping?”

“You heard me. I don't think I want to do this anymore.” Amy draws a shaky breath, looking down at their intertwined hands. “If we have another go at IVF, we have to do the whole thing again. I guess we could, but it’s so much money, Jake.”

“We could work it out,” he mumbles.

“We could. I just don't know if I want to.”

“But… you wanted another baby.”

“And I still do.” She thinks of all the families she’s seen at the resort over the last few days. Sisters and brothers playing together, a light-haired toddler taking a break from swinging to run and kiss their baby sibling’s head, tiny infants with sunhats and baby swimsuits eliciting screams of happiness from being in the water while their big siblings try to entertain them. It’s painful to imagine never having her dream of more than one kid fulfilled, but it’s infinitely more agonizing to feel like she’s missing out on the wonderful life she does have.

“But it's been so long. It’s been so much pain, time and tears, and I'm still not pregnant. Remember when you said we’d do IVF as long as I felt it was worth it for me?”

Jake nods slowly. He’s watching her with a wistful look on his face, which is somehow more heartbreaking than the negative test.

“I don't think it is worth it for me anymore,” she whispers.

“I… are you sure, Ames?”

“No,” she confesses. “Yes. For now, I’m sure.”

 He wraps his arms around her again, neither of them saying anything as she twists her head so their foreheads are touching. Trailing her fingers against his jawline, she cups his face, lips brushing against his with the softness of doing it for the first time and the familiarity of doing it for the thousandth. He’s a little surprised by the move, but then he’s kissing her back just as carefully, one hand tangling in her hair before he draws back.

“I’ll go get us that bottle of champagne,” he says, and squeezes her hand another time before leaving.

 The sun’s starting to set, painting the sky a captivating roseate-orange blend. It fills Amy with a sense of peace and relief - a hope that her life will soon feel more like her own again.

Checking her phone inside, she sees that Charles has texted them a picture of a soundly sleeping Leah. She ignores the trio of winking emojis he’s written after encouraging them to have a good night and sends back two hearts instead. She’s already missing her daughter so badly it’s physically painful, and her eyes linger on the picture long after she’s replied, but she reminds herself that tomorrow is only hours away. Tonight is date night, and she’s determined to make it a good one despite its unconventional start.

 Jake returns ten minutes later, all out of breath from what he describes as a brisk walk to the corner store to buy the fanciest bottle they had for a decent price, and she smiles and kisses his cheek before accepting a glass.

“This is beautiful,” she says, moving aside so there’s space for him on the patio loveseat.

“The sunset?”

“This night. The sunset. You.”

“You’re beautiful-ler.” His reply is as reflexive as her eye-roll.

“I mean it. I want to enjoy this night with you. Hell, I just want to enjoy my life,” Amy gives the abandoned test a death-glare, “without this constant stress. It’s ruining everything.”

“It hasn’t ruined everything...”

“No, but everything would still be better if it wasn’t there, you know?” She shrugs and he nods, taking a sip from his glass. “I want to get back to our normal life. This vacation is making me realize how much I miss it.”

“What do you miss?”

“Being relaxed. Having any sort of free time. I miss being able to just live our lives with our amazing daughter, and not be constantly thinking of whether I’ve taken this and that medication or gone to this and that appointment and what day of what cycle it is.”

“I get that.” There’s a playful smile on his lips, and she’s about to ask what he thinks is so funny before he speaks again. “Do you think maybe we make such great kids that the universe couldn’t handle more than one? Think about it! Your brain, and my good looks - maybe it’s too powerful a combination, and if we have more children, everything will, like.. explode.”

It’s a ludicrous theory, but he delivers it with so much conviction it makes her snort, laughing until there are tears in her eyes.

“I’ll have to admit,” she says when she can finally form words again, “it sounds way more plausible than any other explanation.”

 There’s a lighter atmosphere between them after his joke, the warm evening air a little easier to breathe. They change the topic, drink more wine, and she makes less note of what they’re talking about than how content she’s feeling. It's like just making the decision to stop and accept the situation, rather than doing everything in her power to change it, is a giant block of stone off her shoulders. Without it, she can feel like herself again. The painful thought of never having another baby still bites at her, but for once, she's able to push it aside and refill her glass instead.

She wonders when they last had a proper date night like this. She’s certain it’s been too long - if nothing else, then for the way she finds her eyes resting in certain places after a while. The one unbuttoned button on his shirt, revealing a bit of slightly tanned chest. The way his fingers wrap around the thin glass. His neck, practically asking to be peppered with nips and bites. His arms, his hands, the thighs she can't help but rest her hand on.

A moment of deep eye contact, meeting his curiosity before she blushes, looking away.

 “Another thing I miss about my life,” she says, struck with sudden confidence. “Having sex with you without always thinking about whether I’ll get pregnant.”

“Woah there.” Jake coughs, examining her expression. “Did you have four drinks already?”

She shakes her head.

“Hmm. Anyway - it's okay, Ames.”

“For you, maybe.” She swallows the last in her glass. “Less so for me.”

His cheeks turn a dark crimson. “I'm sorry -”

“It's not your fault,” she assures him. “Honestly, I haven't let it be about me. Or us. But - god - I miss it being just for pleasure.”

“Me too.”

The heated glance he gives her is a physical sensation, making desire pool in the pit of her stomach and sending her nerves on full alert when his hand touches her bare inner thigh, softly stroking.

“I can't remember when we last were child-free together for a whole night,” she whispers, and he smiles a knowing smile. “Let's make the most of it.”

“If you say so.”

She pulls him in for a searing kiss, sighing with pleasure as he moves his hand higher, closer to where she's aching for if to be.

“Let's go inside, babe.”

 She’s nervous about so many things - whether she’ll change her mind tomorrow, whether this counts as giving up, if it makes her weak - but as Jake’s fingers brush over the faint bruises from the last injections with so much reverence, and he makes a point of kissing the thin white stripes on her lower abdomen that remain tangible proof she once carried their child inside of her, she decides those thoughts can wait. His lips move to her centre, and she gasps so sharply, he places a hand on her hip to keep her still.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she breathes, feeling the vibrations of his laugh before he sucks harder and everything is forgotten except the blissful sensation of his tongue against her and the building, pleasant tension as he pushes her closer to the edge.

 It’s a night of relief, in more than one sense.

 ~

[purplesurveys]

956

Be honest with yourself, are you proud of your actions? Yes. If there’s one good thing going for me it’s that I’m happy with the things I’ve done, overall. I regret few of my actions.

Have you ever had an operation? No, and the thought scares me to be honest. I get uncomfortable with the idea of being put under anaesthesia or being cut open D:

Favorite sit-down restaurant? Yabu, Frankie’s, or Mendokoro Ramenba. Missing all these places bigtime, too. I can’t wait to start getting my internship money, heh. Chicken wings will probably be one of the first things I’d buy.

What have you eaten today? I had sushi bake with nori sheets in the afternoon, during a lull at work.

Who has made you laugh the hardest in the last week? Rhett and Link, if people from YouTube count. But Angela made me laugh quite a bit today, if you’re looking for an irl person.

If you had to get a tattoo on your face to save your life, what would it be? But would I be down with the tattoo...? Probably should have been the first question you asked, haha.

What is something you find romantic? I like different ways of saying I love you without having to say those words. Like, “I thought of you when I saw this,” or “Should I drive to you?” or “Did you get home safe?” Those are my favorite things to hear when in a relationship; it makes me feel I’m looked out for, which I appreciate.

What is your style? Sometimes I like going the 90s route with graphic tees and high-waist denim jeans, but other days I like to look more modern or chic.

If you could be doing anything you like right now, what would it be? Not that I enjoy doing it, but I’d love to visit Nacho’s resting place right now. I’m just not sure if I’m allowed to go out at this time. I’m certainly hoping he wasn’t alone today and that he got a lot of love.

What is the best movie you have ever seen? Good Will Hunting.

What makes you attracted to the person you like right now? Intelligence.

What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about? I don’t appreciate jokes on miscarriages and rape, and those that poke fun at transphobia. Jokes on suicide and mental health issues can sometimes be offensive, but it depends on the context.

How long was your longest relationship? 4 years.

Would you rather live in a castle or a spaceship? I’d take the castle. I personally prefer the spaceship a lot more, but I feel like I’d be barfing in there a lot lmao. Also, the amount of controls and buttons that I’ll have to move around will probably overwhelm me.

Have you ever felt unimportant in someone’s life? Unfortunately, yes.

Has someone ever made you a Build-A-Bear? No. Not my gift of choice either, so I’d say it’s a good thing that no one has made one for me.

Did you have any unread texts this morning? I don’t think so, no.

What are your initials? RIAC.

What is your definition of “having sex”? I don’t feel like describing it in detail lol, just look it up.

Who was the last person you were “in a relationship with” on Facebook (including anyone you may have put “in a relationship with” for a joke)? I never used that feature on Facebook. I don’t like sharing too much personal info on there, because Filipino relatives tend to be nosy and gossip around lol. All they need to see are the memes I share and my political stances.

Do you think a relationship with a 16-year-old girl and a 35-year-old man would work out? Do you think age differences like that (when they’re under 18) should be legal? 16 years old...say that again, but slowly. That’s pretty disgusting.

Were you ever “the other man/woman”? How did it turn out? How do you feel about it today? No. I’d never want to be; I wouldn’t know how to deal with it if I ever found out I was one.

What do you think of open relationships? If your partner suggested it, what would you say? i dont care what other people do, but that is not for me.  < Sums it up well.

Would you ever date out of your race? I’m open to it. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be.

Who were you with yesterday? Just family, but I was mostly by myself.

Have you ever had a reptile for a pet? Nope.

What time do you have to get up tomorrow? My work starts at 9 AM so I always have to be up by then, but because I like taking a shower and polishing the work I did the day before, I personally like to be ready anywhere between 8–8:30 AM.

Have you ever kissed anyone with a tattoo? I never have.

What kinds of alcohol do you like? I like cocktails; I like having a good, chill time with friends and I’m usually not in a hurry to get drunk, so cocktails are the perfect drinks for me for most situations. As for hard drinks, I usually go for tequila shots and whatever Bacardi is.

Did you have a swing set when you were a kid? We didn’t, but as a kid I regularly came over to my cousins’ place who did have a playground and they had a variety of swings that I loved riding.

Can you do the alphabet in sign language? Incompletely.

Have you ever been so hurt that you wanted to stop feeling completely? Of course.

State you most want to visit? Illinois, but only for Chicago.

What is a book that you really want to read? I’m not really eyeing any at the moment, but I’m currently reading Midnight Sun. Except by ‘currently’ I really mean reading a few pages or so once a week lol. I’ve always been terrible at reading books as a teenager/adult.

What brand was the last lotion that you used? I don’t remember anymore. I don’t use lotion often.

What color is your underwear? Green.

What was the last type of cookie that you ate? Sandwich cookies. They were Oreos.

If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be? In a happier place, mentally. I’d give an arm and a leg to be there rn.

What genre was the last song you listened to? R&B I think.

What sort of surveys catch your interest and which ones bore you? I like ones with random questions or those with themes that I can relate to, like college or film surveys. I can’t say I enjoy surveys that ask what kind of X you are and then just lists down traits that you’re asked to bold or not. Bolding surveys can also be kinda bleh, but I like putting my own twist on them and elaborating on each entry so that I don’t finish them too quickly.

What books do you usually enjoy reading and which do you not enjoy? I enjoy autobiographies. I don’t like the fantasy and epic genres, or anything that has too many fictional or supernatural elements.

What is something that you really want to try, whether it’s a hobby, food, etc.? Baking! I feel like it would be therapeutic for me, so it’s something I want to get into. It’d be awesome to master chocolate chip cookies.

What websites do you frequent most often? YouTube these days, for sure. I also use a lot of Google Suite for work.

The last person you found attractive — what did they look like? Big eyes, medium-length hair, bright smile.

If you could go back in time, would you prefer to go forward or backward? this question is so jacked LOL. "if you could go back, would you go foward?" go away. < Hahahaha true, but I’d go forward in time. I want to fast forward to feeling happy again, if that will even be the correct guess.

Post a link to the last video you watched online. Aw man, your timing made me a little sad. I’m currently watching the GMM episode that featured Kobe Bryant a few years ago.

Is there anything bothering you at the moment? You bet there is.

What color was the last shirt you wore? I’m wearing a black and white striped shirt right now, but the one I wore before this had a leopard print.

What sort of things do you like to post or look at on Tumblr? I just do surveys full-time now, man. I hopped off the fandom side of Tumblr 6-7 years ago and this has been my ~main blog since, if I had to call it anything.

What scent was the last candle you burned? It was just a plain candle that we had to light up because we had a blackout. I don’t really get my own candles to relax or whatever.

What type of people are you usually attracted to? I’m demi, so it will always differ. I don’t have a ‘type’ of person.

Do you collect anything? If so, what? Can’t say I do.

When you look to your left, what is the first thing you see? What about the right? I see my bed on the left, and the wall and the glare from my phone on the right.

What room are you currently in? What color are the walls/floor? I’m in my bedroom. Walls are white, floor is brown.

What color is the last blanket you used? Pink but it has polka dots of various colors. My light is currently turned off and it’s dark, though, so I don’t feel like reaching for my blanket just to list down its other colors.

What do you smell like right now? I think I just smell like person...I wasn’t around strong scents today.

If it was possible to celebrate a holiday everyday, which would you choose? That would get boring really fast, but idk...Christmas, I guess? It’d be nice to have big grand dinners everyday and to see regularly relatives I only see 1-2 times a year.

If you could compare yourself to a celebrity or character, who would it be? Mr. Peanutbutter from BoJack Horseman. Loyal, wacky, covers everything up with humor, very expressive when it comes to love.

Which male celebrities do you find attractive? Timothée Chalamet, Troye Sivan, Mark Ruffalo.

Which female celebrities do you find attractive? Kristen Stewart, Kate Winslet, Rosamund Pike, Claire Foy, Courteney Cox, Mila Kunis, Emma Stone.

If you could marry one of your favorite celebrities and have a happy relationship until the end of your days, who would it be? I’d go with Mark Ruffalo, heh

What song are you listening to at the moment? I have Good Mythical Morning on, not music.

What is currently on your desk? Just my headphones at the moment. I usually use my laptop on the desk too, but right now I prefer to be on the floor just because.

What brand is your computer? Apple.

What are the last things you ate and drank? For eat, I had sushi bake with nori sheets. For drink, I had water.

How often do you take naps and how long do they usually last? I take naps in the afternoon but only on weekends now, because work. How long they last always varies, depending on how hot it is in my room. Higher temperature = quicker, less satisfying naps.

Which season do you wish lasted all year? I definitely wish we got rain all year.

What is the last part of your body that itched? My back.

Is there anything that you should be doing right now? Nope. My day is over and I’m happy to take a survey or two tonight.

Is there anything you’re craving right now? Pad thai. I did ask my dad to make it again, so I should expect it any day soon.

How do you take your tea? I don’t drink tea.

[1998tales]

3 JULY 2020

11:02AM

I hate how I keep impulse buying. I signed back up for Book of the Month even though I’ve yet to complete any of the ten+ books I bought from that monthly service. I saw something called Mexican Gothic and wanted to get it. I know that if I don’t like a book next month, I can skip it and won’t be charged every month. Or maybe I’ll just cancel again. I need to be more responsible. I’ve read three books this year. Three! What’s sad is that for a moment, I forgot which books I had read as well. This is horrible. For the rest of month, I’m not buying anything online unless it’s an essential item (or a birthday gift). I feel terrible.

I think about all the things that I need to pay back like student loans or services How did I become this person who squanders her money? I’ve been afraid of going to get health and dental checks for a long time. So, instead of putting money aside for it, I’ll buy a book or a makeup item. I was unemployed for so long that my student loan debt went up 8K dollars. I will never pay it off because of how little money I make. What’s sad is that if I had had some control when I got my job 5 years ago, I could have at least made the debt down by 10K or so. 

Now, I’m at an age where I should have a mortgage and be trying to pay off a house, but I don’t think I’ll ever get there. I have too much already on my plate. I just feel so hopeless, so I excuse these expenses. Books stack up unread. My makeup gets used, most of the time, because it’s the only means I have for feeling feminine and for feeling better looking. But I don’t take care of my health at all. I wear the same clothes every week to work with little variation. They are clean, but at my weight, I can’t find much else to wear. I look like a slob.

When I’m not using online ordering to feel better, it’s unhealthy food. When I started my job 5 years ago, a co-worker joked that this place only hired fat short people. I was 30 lbs overweight at the time. Now, I’m 87 lbs overweight. I’ve never felt worse in my life. 

Aside from that, I still have transportation issues. I’m afraid of driving. I have the money in the bank for driving school, but I haven’t even called about enrolling in classes. I’m just so afraid of getting behind the wheel. I’m not sure how I’m going to overcome this fear. I know that it is something that needs to happen this year because I won’t have someone to take me to work at some point.

So, I’ve decided that after my birthday, that I’m going to make 2020 a better year. Another plan. How many have I had this year? I can’t even look at my resolutions list from January.

I’ve been thinking lately since I ditched social media that I should just take an internet break. No more reading reddit. No more reading news sites. Or anything else really. I’m no longer watching certain booktubers who demand compelled speech nor beautubers who do the same as well.

I’ll keep my video streaming services, because I have things that I want to watch, but I don’t want to interact with people much anymore. I don’t want to make youtube videos anymore. I don’t care about cancel culture. I’m tired of the negativity. I’m tired of being told that only certain voices should be heard. There is no room for white people, especially white people who are Christian and pro-life. Call that “white woman tears” all you want, but excluding someone on the basis of their race and/or religion is discriminatory. 

What can I accomplish even in a week if I block myself from reading negativity and watching negative videos? We shall see.

I’m still going to write on this tumblr though. It’s the only thing I’ve managed to stick to this year. 

8:13PM

I’ve read cantos 5 and 6 of Dante’s Inferno. The gluttony one hit me hard. I wouldn’t like to be in the cold, icy rain and disgusting muck rolling around. No thank you.

I’ve listened to Dream Wife’s new album. I liked the song Temporary a lot. It deals with supporting your friend through her miscarriage. That isn’t talked about a lot. I like RH, RN which is Right Here, Right Now which talks about living in the present.