#maybe when I stop wallowing in my own sadness I actually try and fix it lol

[luzzyluz]

FUCK YOU!!!

TAKE MY FANART, @mack-timelines !

I thought your au was cute and I had to draw it... before giving you the chance to do it lol

I really wanted to draw this idea out ever since I saw their au (below)

[saphirered]

If you want some individual character asks how about Caleb with a Druid s/o who will wild shape into a cat if he seems sad to try and make him feel better.

Here you go! Enjoy 😘.

Not only out of components to return Frumpkin to his preferred cat form but also having loaned the now owl familiar to Beauregard as part of their agreement Caleb feels lonely, lacking the comfort of the orange fur ball to keep him company. There’s always been something about having the only creature aware of everything he had gone through and still look at him the same as they had always done that gives him hope there might yet be redemption and salvation for him and it’s something he really could use right now. All that’s left for him is to retreat to his room and wallow in sorrow until he falls asleep, gets the components to turn Frumpkin back, this feeling passes or a distraction big enough to have him focus on something else comes along.

You’d noticed Caleb silently retreat when the others were still around. Caleb may be good at covering up anything beyond a surface level of emotion but you know him well enough he’s not in the greatest shape when he just wanders off in the middle of the day. Things had been harsh lately and he’d been struggling. You’d been doing your best to be there for him but Caleb struggles even more with accepting help from others when he’s like this and prefers seclusion until he sets himself straight. It’s not healthy, you’ve told him but it keeps him going so you’ve come to terms with it offering him little gestures of kindness whenever you could if only to ease his pain a little bit.

When Caleb disappeared into the background making sure the others were too caught up in whatever they were doing you sat around, staring in the direction he left in half paying attention to the people around you and your mind debating wether or not you should do something, anything. After Caleb hadn’t returned in an hour you excused yourself and went after him searching for wherever he went. Your first guess had to be right. Not many places he could or would go.

There you are standing in front of the wooden door fist raised hesitantly to knock. Maybe this was a bad idea? Maybe you should just leave him to himself. If Caleb wants to be alone then you should respect that… but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t check in on him… Because what if you could do something? It doesn’t have to be much or fix everything because you know that’s not the goal but the tiniest difference between Caleb wallowing in his own pain and having something or someone to bring him some comfort; that would be enough.

So you knock. There’s a silence and you don’t expect a reply of any kind. You try again, a little bit harder this time. Still you wait patiently. You’re about to turn and leave when the door opens and Caleb peaks out. He looks tired, exhausted even but musters a half smile upon seeing you.

“What can I do for you?” Caleb tries his best to not falter in his usual habits but he knows there’s no hiding from you. You wouldn’t be here if he had succeeded in the first place. No use in keeping the facade going.

“I came to see if you’re alright.” Again there’s the pained half smile. You pity him so much. You know Caleb does not want your pity but still you do. You can’t help yourself but feel sorry for everything he’s been put through and the scars left from the past. No one should have to suffer through such terrible things.

“I’m fine.”

“No, Caleb. You’re not fine.”

“I will be fine. I just need… time.” Caleb sighs holding onto the door. You clasp your hands together and give him the sincerest look you can muster.

“I know you will be fine but I also know you won’t ask for help unless it’s a last resort so I’ll ask you. Do you need my help? Is there anything I could do for you?” Caleb bites his lip, steps aside and allows you to enter. You do and the door is closed behind you. The room is as simple as ever, the sheets slightly crinkled and pillow sunken, giving away he’d been sitting in bed staring into the abyss for who knows how long.

Caleb sits on the bed hands clasped in his lap and nods to the space next to him. You take the hint and sit down. Hesitantly you reach out your hand towards his but stop and are about to pull away hadn’t Caleb grasped your hand to enclose it between both of his own. The grip isn’t too tight or lacking any strength but feels like him holding on to a lifeline no less.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” You ask as the wizard keeps his eyes on your hand between his. There’s something about the gesture to him that brings him comfort and keeps him tethered to this plane. You’re like an island in the middle of the ocean and he’s been swimming from sharks out to get him but not even you can stand up against a flood. Caleb shakes his head.

“Is there something you usually do to make things easier?” You know of some of the coping mechanisms of Caleb but he wouldn’t have retreated if they worked. Caleb’s smarter than you are and knows himself best so while you may come up with some ideas, you’ll let him try first.

“Yes but not now. Not unless you happen to have about ten gold worth of incense on you.” Caleb laughs sarcastically.

“If you need Frumpkin back I can go retrieve him from Beau if you don’t feel comfortable doing so yourself. Don’t worry.” He appreciates your willingness to take the pressure off any social interactions he doesn’t have the energy for but sadly that’s not the reason.

“Thank you but Frumpkin as he is now won’t help. I need my cat. Not my cat shaped like an owl and it’ll still be a while before we get somewhere I can get enough incense to turn him back.”Caleb looks at you and can see the cogs in your head turning. A realisation has hit you but he cannot place it so instead he awaits for you to elaborate.

“You need a cat? Would any cat do or just Frumpkin? Maybe a cat that looks like Frumpkin?” You try your best to get the clearest visual of the orange ball of fur you can to make sure you could get this right.

“I think so but I’m not sure?” Caleb tries to figure out what you’re hinting at.

“Would this help?” You close your eyes and focus on the image in your mind. Next you open your eyes the world is different. You’re staring up at Caleb with a significant height difference. Your senses pick up on things you did not before and you’re hit with an overwhelming scent of a mixture of spell components, smoke and something more earthy. It’s not uncomfortable and actually pleasant.

Caleb is at loss for words. He knows about your ability to turn into animals but never considered the fact you’d be able to turn into a cat. While he certainly sees some dissimilarities between you and Frumpkin they are minor, he would not have expected you to know exactly where Frumpkin has that little spot shaped like a bean or where one of his whiskers is just a little shorter than the other above it.

Reaching out as if to pet you Caleb hesitates. He knows it’s not Frumpkin or another cat. He’s fully aware this is still you and you’re still fully aware of your surroundings, retain your memory and everything you knew as a person. He can see it in your eyes; they are unmistakably you. When you nudge up into his hand allowing him to stroke his fingers over your head Caleb reads this as you giving him permission. The head scratches turn over to your cheek and just under your chin and you can’t help but feel yourself beginning to purr just like Frumpkin does when he receives the same attention. It’s actually very comfortable and you get why the fey cat likes it so much.

An arm guides you to Caleb’s side and the fingers brushing through your orange fur continue. You don’t know wether or not it’s the cat senses kicking in or your own but you can feel the anxiety beginning to lessen from Caleb. That’s a good sign.

Slowly, little by little your positions change. One moment you’re half leaning against Caleb’s thigh, the next you’re curled up in his lap. Eventually you find yourselves laying back on the bed, you rolled up comfortably on Caleb’s stomach, the fingers brushing through your fur continuing until they become slower and slower and eventually cease, Caleb’s breathing growing heavier and slower. He’s asleep. You look at him careful not to twist too much but he looks peaceful and much less bothered by whatever haunts him so. You don’t want to wake him up so you’ll stay. You still got plenty of time left on this wild shape so maybe you’ll close your eyes for a bit too and you too fall asleep.

When you wake up you feel whatever’s under you stir so you open your eyes and make eye contact with Caleb who looks mortified for some reason. You wonder why. Had you done something in cat form? Wait, you don’t feel as small as you did anymore…

When Caleb woke up he found you in your normal form supporting your head on your crossed arms laying on his stomach fast asleep, his fingers intwined in your hair and the other hand somewhere between your shoulder blades. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep. You hadn’t agreed to this and what if the reason you still being here was because his grip might have been too tight? Nevermind the awkwardness of this all. He doesn’t do well with most physical touch but just like you in cat form, this feels comfortable and he’s ashamed to admit he could very well get used to this, though he doesn’t have the heart to ask you himself.

You sit up supporting yourself on your hands on either side of Caleb. You saw his response to the position the two of you woke up and you know what he’s like when it comes to physical touch and after the emotionally intimate moment you shared with him finding comfort in you, you hope you hadn’t ruined it by falling asleep not keeping track on when your wild shape would end. You blurt out apologies as you sit up and begin removing yourself from on top of Caleb. Caleb stops you as you’re on your knees and rises himself to a sitting position.

“No, I should apologise. Thank you for your kindness. I should have been more considerate. I did not mean to keep you or put you in a, no pun intended, tight spot.” Caleb grabs one of your hands lightly as if afraid you’d slip away and he’d be alone again. Your initial fear you might have overstepped yourself falls away.

“Do… you want me to stay?” You’re almost afraid to ask but you have to, if not for your own sake then for his. Caleb nods sheepishly but when you wrap your arms around his waist pulling yourself close to him once more. His hands find your hair and begin to loosely brush through carefully getting rid of any tangle that might have been there.

“You know I could turn back into a cat once more if you’d prefer.” You mutter into Caleb’s stomach and you can feel the slight tension and release of his abdomen signalling a silent laugh.

“While I very much appreciate the offer and will hope it still stands in the future, for now I am very much content with this.”

[lafourmii20]

My favorite pairing is probably DrPepperony if I had to choose one, and I'm a sucker for 30 (the protective one). While I tend to swerve to "people protecting Stephen", please write it however you'd like - if you're interested in this combination. :)

Thank you for the ask, @aelaer 💕

I love drpepperony and I was very happy to write this OT3 with this prompt. It's a bit longer than I thought, and maybe not exactly what you imagined. I hope you like it!

~~~

drpepperony, pre-relationship (could almost be read as gen), hurt stephen, with a bit of blood, protective pepper, protective tony, not clint friendly (sorry i had to find sort of a bad guy), post Endgame but Tony lives and Steve died

~~~

“If you’re so powerful, why couldn’t you save her?!”

Clint’s shout echoed on the lawn, all the way to the cabin. Tony instantly got to his feet.

“Stay with uncle Happy, Maguna.”

He left his drink on a table, and his daughter under Happy’s careful watch, and hurried outside. When he pushed the front door, he frowned, deeply unhappy with the scene.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen whispered in such a thin voice Tony wasn’t sure anyone heard him –not sure the guy even wanted to be heard.

“You’re sorry? Is that what you just mumbled?” Clint answered, his tone getting angrier and angrier with each word.

“I am truly deeply sorry,” Stephen articulated more clearly this time.

It did not seem to appease Clint. At all.

“Well, great! You’re sorry. But Nat is dead because of you. And your sorry ass apologies won’t do shit to bring her back!”

Clint was furious. He was grieving. But he was taking it out on the wrong guy.

“It’s all your fault!”

Stephen didn’t move, didn’t even blink when Clint lurched forward and punched him square in the face. He fell backwards and blood splattered on the ground.

“It’s all your fucking fault!” Clint bellowed as Sam and Bucky restrained him, tried to stop him from attacking again.

He almost tore free, and Tony took a step forward. He was all for letting his fellow Avengers sort things out between themselves the way they wanted to –and if they had to punch some sense into each other from time to time, well it was their business. But no one was getting beaten up, without even trying to resist, on his lawn.

But before Tony could say anything, Pepper stepped into the scene.

“What is going on here?” she asked in her no-nonsense voice. Se didn’t wait for someone to answer –as if there even was a correct way to answer when she used that voice. “No one is fighting in my home! Today, we celebrate those we brought back, and we grieve those we lost. This is not a time for fighting and I will not tolerate it. Is that clear?”

Clint might try to protest, there was no way he would sway Pepper. He was an Avenger. She was even more dangerous, Tony thought with pride. Looked like he could let his wife handle the dirty business.

He crossed the lawn, got to the poor wizard still slumped on the ground, haggard and defeated. His nose was bleeding profusely, and the corner of his eye was starting to turn purple. Tony grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Come on. Let me take care of you.”

Stephen looked up at him. There was a deep sadness, a resigned look in his eyes that broke Tony’s heart. Then Stephen got up and it was gone. They walked silently through the crowd, crossed the lawn and reached the house. Tony pushed him as carefully as he could in a bathroom.

“Here we go,” he said softly, helping Stephen sit on the edge of the tub. “Fri, where’s the first aid kit?”

“Under the sink, boss,” the AI answered immediately and Tony dived under the sink to retrieve the little box, opening it to get some cotton balls and antiseptic, though he wasn’t sure what to do with those. “May I suggest the ice pack, boss?”

“You’re the best, baby girl.”

“Of course,” she answered, and Tony chuckled.

He went back to Stephen with a slightly wet towel to wipe off the blood while he handed him the cold pack. Stephen’s fingers shook wildly when he took it and pressed it on the side of his head, with a painful wince.

“You don’t have to do all this,” the Wizard of Oz finally said. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, look in the mirror, doc, and tell that to your face,” Tony scoffed.

He got a brief glimpse of a smile before he moved the towel over nose, lips, chin, and all the mess of blood that covered Stephen’s face.

“Why didn’t you send Clint to the Sinister Dimension or whatever the name of that hellish world is?” Tony asked, trying not to wince with Stephen every time the towel stroked over a sensitive area.

“Dark Dimension,” Stephen corrected.

��Sure.”

A moment of silence passed. Tony took the time to rinse the blood out of the towel before applying it again. It seemed like the bleeding had stopped. That only left the big ugly contusion at the corner of Stephen’s eye. Ouch, that looked painful.

“Fri, can you scan our good doctor? Make sure there are no deeper wounds?”

“I’m fine,” Stephen protested with another wince that said otherwise.

“Fri?”

“The good doctor is right, boss. No deeper injury.”

“Great.”

As Tony looked at the slumped and beaten up form in front of him, it seemed that nothing was great. If there were no physical wounds, it seemed that there was a more profound, more painful, psychological one. That man was wounded, burned out, and morally exhausted. And Tony was suddenly filled with the impulse to help him, to fix this, whatever this was.

He wanted to see the powerful and cocky sorcerer he clashed with, when they first met.

He wanted the weirdly flirty wink after great prowess of magic, and butting heads with someone that didn’t take his nonsense but actually listened to him, and compromised.

“So, why didn’t you stop him?” he asked again after a minute of almost comfortable silence.

He threw the bloody towel in the laundry basket and leaned against the sink, watching Stephen intently.

“Because he’s grieving. And he’s right,” Stephen answered in a too small voice.

Defeated.

Tony was not taking any of it. If Pepper had to protect Stephen from Clint, Tony would have to protect Stephen from himself, apparently. It was far from the weirdest thing he had ever done.

“Bullshit. It’s not your fault.”

Stephen arched an eyebrow behind the cold pack, before he winced and dropped it. Tony picked it up for him and, instead of giving it back to the wizard, he brought it up to Stephen’s face and gently hold it up against his temple. Stephen just sighed, closed his eyes for a second, letting Tony take care of him. The situation was slightly more intimate than Tony anticipated but it warmed his heart to see Stephen accept his help. And yeah, he could see himself get closer to the wizard in the near future.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated.

“It kinda is. I chose this path, the one where Natasha and Steve had to die. Their deaths are on my hands.”

“That’s just pure bullshit! You didn’t push Nat on Vormir, she jumped. You didn’t put the gauntlet on Steve’s hand, he took it and snapped his own fingers knowing he would not survive it. You did not murder them. They chose to sacrifice themselves to save us all, and believe me, I would have done the same thing, without blaming you. You know what you did?”

“Wallow in self-pity, dishonoring their great sacrifice?” he whispered defeated and seemingly disgusted with himself.

“No.” Damn, that man really needed to be protected from himself. Tony knew a thing or two about blaming himself for everything, but Strange was on another level completely. “You put us on the right path, you risked your sanity to view all those possible futures and other timeline. You are a hero.”

That seemed to finally shut Stephen up. He blinked, looked up at Tony, but this time, there was something different in his eyes. A deep emotion Tony couldn’t really name. It made his heart race.

Stephen’s hand rose, lightly touched Tony’s at the side of his head. It was delicate and far more intimate than he expected. But before Tony could say anything else, the bathroom’s door opened, and Pepper stepped in.

Stephen quickly took his hand away, but Tony kept his position. There was nothing he wanted to hide from his wife. Besides, if something ever happened with the wizard, he was pretty sure Pepper would want to be included. Yep, that would be very nice actually, the three of them in the cabin. Tony could almost picture it.

Wait, he was thinking a bit ahead of himself, wasn’t he? Well, who could blame him, he was a futurist, after all.

“Are you okay, Dr. Strange?” Pepper asked.

“You can call me Stephen. And yes, I’m okay. Tony took care of me.”

Pepper looked at her husband. Tony winked, she smirked in return. His hand was still pressed against Stephen’s head –there was a cold pack between them, but did that really matter?

Pepper went to Stephen’s other side, carefully took his chin in her hand to examine him –and there was no cold pack or any medical supply to excuse the proximity. Stephen tensed for a second, then he relaxed in her grip.

“You did well,” Pepper finally concluded, with a small stroke on Stephen’s cheek. The wizard shuddered. Then she stepped back and the fluttering moment was over. “Tony, you stay with him, I’m gonna send everyone home,” she ordered more than asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tony answered immediately.

“And Stephen?”

“Yes?”

“Stay for dinner with us tonight. Please?”

A moment of hesitation, blue-green eyes jumping from Tony to Pepper, a gulp and finally.

“I will.”

Well, well, well, Tony thought. That was a very interesting turn of events. He couldn’t wait to see where all of this would lead them.

~~~

Inspired by this intimacy prompt list

Prompts filled: 3. touching foreheads (ironstrangefrost) 23. wearing someone’s clothing (ironstrange) 29. kissing while mad (ironstrange) 59. height difference (ironstrange)

[angry-geese]

At Dawn’s Break III

PB!Dio Brando x Maid!Reader, Jonathan Joestar x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: none! sfw, mention of death, but nothing too graphic. Mostly plot. Not the healthiest relationship dynamic. Technically yandere Dio but its very tame

Notes: Part One- sfw, Part Two- nsfw, Part Four - nsfw

This has been in my drafts for so long I’m so sorry. I do have a friend helping me edit my ao3 stuff so there might be some grammatical differences between that and the stuff posted here but i'll try to keep it as consistent as possible- story-wise its still the same.

In the coming months, word would arrive of your father’s death.

Sad wasn’t the right word for it. The man was old, sick, and frail. He fell ill and never recovered. Things like that happen. It was expected. His passing was quiet, happening in the early hours in the morning. You had grieved his death long before it actually happened. Your love for him was more out of a sense of duty than anything else. He was never a proper parent, the harsh expectations of life were thrown upon you rather young. At nineteen you were left as the sole guardian of your siblings. Some nights you would scream about the unfairness of it all, others you would wallow in your pity. The constant "sorry for your loss"s infuriated you. It would not bring him back. It would not fix this hole you've dug for yourself. It did nothing to justify what you've gone through. The world wasn't going to stop spinning just for you to feel sorry for yourself.

So you returned to work.

Your meetings with Dio grew fewer and further apart. Your conversations were short, ending with arguments. What he could dish out, you threw right back. Often you found yourself bitter and frustrated with him, leaving much space between the two of you. It wasn’t that you loved him any less, but he wasn’t exactly understanding in this matter. Neither of his fathers- adopted or biological- could he stand. Putting it plainly: Dio was awful at comforting people. Sympathy was not one of his strong suits. Going to him for comfort was out of the question.

Your life was soon after consumed by the mundane nature of work. The repetition of it you found soothing. It was nice to have a routine. Even if Dio wasn’t there for you, it was. The head maid took notice in your sudden interest in work, and blamed Dio for your lacking efforts. You just nodded and kept your head down.

Mr. Joestar would soon fall ill. Due to his old age, it didn’t come as a surprise to many. Very few questioned it. He was older, but seemingly healthy at the time. He fell sick overnight with the flu, which soon turned to pneumonia. It was not looking like he would recover. His coughing fits could be heard from across the manor. Much of it reminded you of your own father, so you often stayed away, only coming around when it was asked of you.

It makes you wonder if Dio feels the same sense of duty to his father. Probably not. He does not understand family ties in the same way you do. He was very attentive when Mr. Joestar fell ill, often providing medicine for him. If you were called to help, he would go in your place. It feels false, like a mockery of a doting son. Yes- he's providing for his father, but it feels like an alien trying to copy a human. Like a robot trying to replicate human love. It’s not out of any kindness in his heart. What he feels isn’t love. Sometimes you don’t think he’s capable of it. But if he did love something, it was power. He’d never admit it, but it was also you. Having you so consumed with grief enraged him. It was a childish want for attention that he found hard to conceal. He never took out his anger on you, finding himself afraid of turning out to be like his birth father driving his mother into an early grave. Often he thought about how easily he could force your hand, make you chose between him and your family. Deep down he didn’t want to toss out an ultimatum. You had just as much of a bite as him; unstoppable force meets immovable object. In no way he saw that ending well. Others had noticed the growing distance between you. People talked- as they did- rumors spread.

“Y/N.” Jonathan’s voice startles you.

“Mister Joestar, how-”

“Call me Jonathan.”

You cringe at the interruption.

“Jonathan.” You say. “How can I help you?”

“Will you take a walk with me?”

He guides you out to the garden. Winter has left it scraggly and barren, washed out in cold, white light. A few wilting leaves cling to the trees. Only a handful of rooms are lit within the house. It feels personal, being dragged through the place where you spent so many of your nights with your lover. Calling him that feels strange. Lover seems like too innocent of a word.

Over your time at the Joestar estate, there isn’t much you know about Jonathan. Dio talked of him. Often. It was never good, though he had a way of exaggerating things. By now you’ve learned to take it with a grain of salt. Your meetings with the second Joestar son have been few and rather brief. He seems sweet, albeit a bit naive and too engrossed in high society to talk with the likes of you. The girls in the kitchen swoon over him, although he’s sweet on a neighbor girl. Erina- you’ve heard of her. She’s been over for dinner before.

"How are you?" He asks.

"Fine, I suppose." You say, a bit irritated with the small talk. "What is it you need of me?"

"I heard what happened," absentmindedly he picks at his nails, "and I wanted to give my condolences. I imagine this situation is... unpleasant for you."

"I manage." You say. "But I doubt that's what you brought me out here for."

He nods. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Then ask away. I'd be happy to answer."

“You’re close with Dio, aren’t you?” He asks.

“A bit. Why?”

While you’re almost certain he knows, it feels easier to lie. You were not the star-crossed lovers that Jonathan and Erina were, the type of partners that made the girls you work with swoon and wish for such a thing, the type of love people write books about but fail to recreate. Your relationship was more out of a mutual agreement than it was proper love, but you suppose it was there. The two of you were angry, scathing people who were capable of god knows what. Together you could be terrifying.

“You two seem to spend quite a lot of time together.” He says. “Have you noticed anything strange with him?”

“No.” You say. “I haven't noticed anything like that."

"He's awfully attentive with father..."

"It's bizarre." You say. He laughs.

"I'm heading to London in a few days- to the university. Father's medicine hasn't been working, and I want it to be examined." From his coat pocket he produces a small green bottle. it's familiar. Dio has one quite like it.

"Do you need anything while you're away?" You ask, wishing to get back to your work. There was laundry that needed to be done.

"No," he says, turning to you, "thank you for your time. I should get going."

Before you can leave, he stops you.

"I know it's no business of mine, but my brother is bad news. You're a sweet girl and I don't want anything to happen to you. Dio is capable of things you couldn't even imagine."

"You're right. It is no business of yours."

He gives you a quick goodbye before leaving you alone in the garden.

Over time, Dio has grown more serious about keeping you close. He has a malicious, possessive streak to him. Your recent distance has only brought that out more. There is no talk of marriage- his adoptive father would never approve- but he talks of the future. Often. For you, the future meant work. To some extent, you could live with that. You never knew what it meant for him. He jokes of world domination.

You’re not quite sure you want to rule the world, but you do want to get out of London.

You stop just under the apple tree. It’s sickly and sad looking. The last of the fruit has fallen off and rotted. A few wilting leaves cling onto the branches. Jonathan gives you a quick goodbye, before returning to the house.

The door to his room is open. A lantern is lit, though the curtains are drawn shut. There’s no need to knock, you’re the only person who will walk in.

“Sit with me, pet.” Dio says.

Maybe the nickname has grown on you. It no longer draws out the same reaction of disgust and discomfort. Time has softened your hard outer shell. He opens his arms and instinctively you go into them. His chest feels unnaturally cold, but being so close to him makes you feel safe. The smell of his cologne is familiar and comforting, you find yourself leaning in closer. You allow yourself this one moment of weakness. He rests his chin on top of your head.

“I don’t have long,” you say, “I must get back.”

He pulls you closer. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Jonathan came and talked with me earlier.” You say.

You could almost swear you heard his heart skip a beat. His grip around you loosens, allowing you to shift to face him. His expression is unreadable.

“Yes.” He says. “I figured he would.”

“Why?”

You almost ask what he’s done.

Accusing him of something would only make him shut down. You already have a guess. The entire conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s a constant unease and discomfort, more than it is outright pain. He's scheming- as he does- but more importantly, he hasn't told you about it.

“My brother doesn't believe in my ways.” He says. "I would never do anything to hurt father. It's no fault of mine that he won't recover."

"Then tell me what was in the bottle." You say. "As of right now, Jonathan is on his way to get that 'medicine' tested."

"I never gave any of it to him."

Jonathan won't see it that way. The authorities surely won't be as kind as his brother. And if he gets caught- what then?

"So you give it to someone else- so some unassuming person is killing him."

Dio doesn’t respond. Do you really expect more of him? He’s proven to be capable of many things. You’ve long since learned he wants to be the sole heir to the Joestar estate. It was a given. Power is something he craves. As much as he jokes about world domination, there's always a serious tone behind them. In the beginning, it just seemed like his nature; he was always collected and intense. Some truth must have been behind them. He makes no attempt to hide that. But this...

Murder is a bit too cold-blooded for your tastes. Morally you don’t have the high ground. You don’t find yourself above much, but you'd like to think you're above murder. If its what you need to do to survive, you believe you'd give it a pass, but as the time comes you're less sure of it. Mr. Joestar gave Dio an opportunity that doesn’t even come once in a lifetime for many. It feels like a slap in the face, just adding insult to injury. This feels like betrayal in the purest sense of the word. While you aren’t close to his father, you have a bit of respect for the man. His death would not cause you the same grief as your own father’s, but you would be sad.

But he is old, and not all old people recover from illness.

Most of the estate would go to Jonathan upon his father’s death. Really, this seems short-sighted. As the younger son, Dio isn’t entitled to all that much. But getting rid of his brother might be easier said than done. Part of you is angry for how little he’s thought this through. Truly, you expected more from him. With as much as he schemes, you had expected a better plan.

Your reaction isn’t quite what he expected. Anything but blind love and acceptance is seen as betrayal to him. To you, everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.

If he fails- if- there is no recovering from this. If he is caught, many signs point to you as an accomplice.

Silently he exits, leaving you alone in his dark room.

[misslilli]

It'll get better soon guys, don't worry 🤗

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 24 - It Takes A Village

[ Felix ]

It’s close to December and my favorite holiday is coming up fast, the lights are already up all around town and in school we make paper snowmen and sing Christmas songs. It’s supposed to be the most cheerful time of the year, but people in my life are sad, which in turn also puts a damper on my Christmas spirit.

Dad is not doing very well, he’s working all the time and doesn’t say much, he just goes through the motions of our day. One day, he just forgets to pick me up from school because he has worked through the night and fell asleep at the dining room table during the day.

Principal Skinner can’t reach him or my mom, who is in Europe right now, so he calls my other emergency contact, my grandma. I don’t know what exactly he tells her, but she’s coming all the way from Connecticut and the Principal will drive me home to check on my dad.

I’m excited that grandma’s coming, she’s really awesome! She’s straightforward and very, very strict and doesn’t like to cuddle, much, but her no-nonsense way of running a household may be exactly what we need right now. And she also makes a mean lasagna!

When we get to the house, dad is beside himself, apologizing to us over and over again for falling asleep and he looks a little relieved when Principal Skinner tells him that grandma is coming over to help.

I launch myself at her - I’m permitted exactly two hugs, one hello and one goodbye - when she walks through the door and immediately try to get her to make lasagna for dinner. She sends me up to my room to play for a bit, while she talks to dad and cleans up the mess in the kitchen. Afterwards, she really makes lasagna, yes!

——————

[ Teena ]

When I got the call from Principal Skinner, I was very worried about what I’d find when I got to the house, I’ve been called to pick up the pieces only once before.

It was after Diana left Fox and Felix and what I found then was a disoriented and confused three-year old who kept asking for his mom and a devastated dad and husband, unable to care for his child in his own heartbreak.

Thankfully, it’s not that bad this time, but I can tell that something has happened. Fox has been avoiding my calls for weeks now, only having Felix talk to me over the phone. I know that Sam knows something, but she wouldn’t tell me no matter how hard I pressed.

So the first thing I do when I get to the boys’s house is send Felix off to his room and sit down my son onto the couch to talk.

“Tell me what happened, Fox.”

And he goes on to me the whole story, from the first day of school where he met a woman that had upended both of their lives, to the birthday party - Sam has actually told me about that one, I thought it was a really sweet story - and the Halloween fair right up until the Basketball fiasco and the last time he saw her, where she asked him to give her some space until she has figured some things out.

“What do I do now mom? I hate myself for scaring her off like that and I can’t stop the tailspin of thinking I’m not good enough for her anyway, with that broken mess that’s our family…”

“I’ll tell you what to do now. You give her space like she asked you to and you get your act together in the meantime. Felix needs you to take care of him, it won’t do to wallow in self-pity. And ask yourself this: How can you expect someone to love you if you don’t love yourself? Go see Connie and fix your self-worth issues because you’re a good man and you absolutely deserve someone who makes you happy.”

“Thanks mom, for everything. I’ve already scheduled extra therapy lessons with Connie. You know what makes this whole thing even harder? I have to see her every damn day at school when I pick up Felix.”

“I’ll pick him up from now on. You focus on yourself, without distractions.” Maybe I’ll even get to meet her, I’m fairly curious about this Rainbow Woman myself.

—————

[ Felix ]

At recess in school, everyone’s on their best behavior, holding their collective breaths because Miss Scully is in a bad mood today. Actually, she’s been irritable for the past two weeks, with a very short fuse and absolutely no tolerance for disobedience.

Since her classroom is right next to ours, we can sometimes hear her yell at her kids for something or other and even our class flinches when it happens.

Right now, she’s over at the playground, leaning into two boys who have gotten into a fist-fight over a game of tag and I’m silently glad I’m sitting over here with Miss Anderson. I look up at my teacher, curious.

“Miss Anderson, why is Miss Scully so angry all the time?”

“I can’t tell you, Felix, I’m sorry.”

“Because you don’t know, or because you don’t want me to know?” When she changes the subject pointedly, I know it’s the second one. ‘Ugh, why don’t adults tell children anything, it’s driving me crazy! Dad won’t tell me anything and now this.’

Grandma picks me up again today and on our way to the car, we run into Miss Scully. 'Uh oh, I hope she doesn’t go off on grandma, I don’t think that will go over very well.’ My grandma can be scary sometimes, too!

“Hey Miss Scully, this is my grandma, she’s staying with us for a while now! Grandma, this is Miss Scully, she’s the fourth-grade teacher.”

——————

[ Teena ]

I’m happy to see that my son has raised Felix to be a polite child when he introduces the tiny red-head I’ve heard so much about.

“Grandma’s not actually my name, Felix. I’m Teena Mulder, it’s nice to meet you Miss Scully!” Holding out my hand, I try to seize her up.

Her handshake is firm and her posture is ram-rod-straight, all professional, but her eyes betray her poised exterior, because I can see flashes of sadness when she looks down at Felix. I can only guess that she’s not having an easy time with everything, herself.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Mulder. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got an appointment to get to. I’ll see you tomorrow, Felix. Goodbye, Mrs. Mulder.”

With that, she’s off to get her bike and Felix breathes a sigh of relief.

“Whew, thank God, she didn’t get mad at you like she got mad at the two boys at recess today.”

I’m a bit puzzled by his odd statement, but on the car ride, he tells me all about the incident in great detail. I get the feeling that these stories are a staple in the boys’s days and I can begin to understand why my son would rather not hear Felix go on and on about what she did and what she said right now.

—————

[ DS ]

My therapist has told me that it has to get worse before it gets better, but this is getting ridiculous. I can’t sleep more than a few hours at night, which leaves me irritable in the morning and with an incredibly short fuse at school, going off on my kids for the littlest infractions.

They’re so terrified and confused, they end up making even more mistakes, which in turn sets me off even more - it’s a vicious circle that leaves me frustrated with myself and more times that I’d like to admit to, I’ve lost it in the teacher’s bathroom.

Meeting Mrs. Mulder today was unexpected and I tried hard to keep it together for a few minutes, but I can’t stand looking at Felix’s innocent face for a longer period of time, so I bolted right after the introductions.

I actually did have an appointment, with my therapist, and today she suggested I write down my feelings in a journal to get them off my chest and reflect on them.

During the night, I wake after only a few hours of sleep spent tossing and turning. Unable to fall back asleep for yet another night, I drag myself our of bed and downstairs, turning the TV in the living room, hoping it’ll lull me back to sleep.

“10 things I hate about you” is on and by the time Julia Stiles recites her poem, I’m bawling into a pillow. I remember the homework I’ve been given, so I grab a piece of paper and a pen and begin writing.

“Miss Scully’s list of 10 things I hate about you”

The words of the title swim before my eyes as I scribble my feelings onto the patient paper. The poem I write is slightly different from the one in the movie, but writing it all out really does help.

I fold the paper up carefully and toss it in the trash before heading back up to bed.

[nanaosaki3940]

Enji Todoroki/Endeavor  - The Social Disaster

MHA’s one of the main subplots is the Todoroki family story which we all know it as ‘Keeping Up With The Todorokis’. This subplot is deliciously complicated and the root of these complications is none other than Endeavor or Enji Todoroki himself.

And I’m going to explain why I call him ‘The Social Disaster’.

After failing to surpass All Might, Endeavor started his stupid breeding experiment where he’ll create a child to use it as a weapon to surpass All Might and become the No. 1 hero and the first weapon he created was called Touya Todoroki. At the very beginning of the training sessions with his son, Endeavor filled Touya’s head with dreams of becoming No.1 hero, be greater than All Might, that he was the destined one to carry out his father’s legacy etc. And then one day Endeavor stopped everything and just gave up on Touya, saying – “No, you can’t. You’re worthless, you can’t do this one thing I told you that you’re gonna be able to do your whole life and so you need to just get the fuck out of my face. Stop doing it. Go be an accountant and just give up.”

From birth Touya was told –“You’re gonna be this great thing. You’re gonna be this Hero Hokage.” and then Endeavor’s like – “Oh sorry, you’re not going to be that Hero Hokage.” and we see that Endeavor’s spending the whole time telling his son like - “Go hang out with your friends and go be normal.” And Touya says – “Well, everyone at school wants to be a hero too.” To me, it’s kinda looping back into Deku’s situation in reverse, like where Deku wanted to become a hero but he was quirkless and Touya also wanted to be a hero, but he can’t tolerate his own flames.

And then Endeavor came up with this shitty idea like – “Oh, you know what will make him stop, if you get him a fucking replacement.” which is maybe the worst idea I’ve heard in my whole life of how to resolve a problem like this.

To me, Endeavor has seemingly no understanding of how people work beyond just – “Oh, this is how I solve criminal cases.”

During his engagement with Rei, he looks and talks like such an awkward idiot and I feel like the way he treats Touya and the way he tries to handle his situation, just proves that how bad he is in understanding what he is doing and how his intentions affects reality.

Even though he is a grown-ass adult and he should know, it's interesting to see that there is this sort of consistency because I believe the implication is that it is his social idiocy that also caused him the No. 1 spot that he could never really become the people's man like All Might because he just doesn't know how to be a man of the people like All Might. And this is how it infects all parts of his life.

He's telling Touya to stop out of concern for him like – “You need to stop this because it's just not good for you.”, which is a very sweet sentiment. But at the same time, we get the panel of where he says – “We got to have another kid to make him stop doing it because then he will give up.” And Rei says –“No, we're not going to do that.” And his response is –“No, we gotta do it because he is never gonna be the one to surpass All Might.”

Then they have Natsuo and we see Touya’s reaction to it and it’s obviously that he’s not taking it very well and then we just see Endeavor getting more and more angry and Rei is getting more and more sad and defeated by the whole situation and when they have baby Shoto, the faces of Endeavor, Rei and Touya physically upsets me. We get to see Endeavor looks really excited, Rei's just like –“I’m done, just stop.” And Touya is so devastated because he realizes that this is the one that's gonna be better than him.

Shoto got what they wanted out of him and we see Touya saying like –“I can still do it.” and the end result is just the dad saying like; it's not even like –“Let's do things together other than being heroes.”; it's more like –“You got to give up on being hero, go play with other kids, go to school and get the fuck out of my face. I gotta train this other hero child. I don’t have time for this shit.”

Endeavor has a line of logic within his brain where he's like –“I can’t fix Touya for what I have done to him cannot be undone because I don’t have the capabilities, so I will just move forward and hope that he copes up.”, which is a terrible and stupid idea, but it is nonetheless align of logic within him.

There’s a certain set of values, ideas and goals in him and he follows them through and they were all terrible and reprehensible. But it still shows that there was an internal logic to him that it makes him even more monstrous without taking that terrifying humanity away from him.

Endeavor is just a person who has done terrible things, with an actual logical line of thought behind it even if it is logic that only makes sense to him.

There’re a lot of obvious parallels we can make between Touya and Deku (they’re not subtle about it and it’s kind of in our faces). Well it's just interesting to me that like Endeavor his whole obsession is like –“I gotta be better than All Might.” And then even in situations like this where he has this protégé that he gives all this hopes and dreams to like –“You're gonna be great, you're gonna be a hero, you’re gonna be the greatest.” And then the child has this power that his body cannot handle and he can't do what the dad told him to do, Endeavor is just like –“Well then, you suck kid. Get a new job, idiot.”

On the other hand, even though All Might is far from perfect in a lot of ways of course when it comes to this but it’s the exact same thing but he understands that like having these aspirations and these dreams even in someone so young is so real. And we know that All Might feels bad about what happens to Deku, but at no point does he tell him like –“Okay, give it up kid. You still can’t do it more than 5% without breaking your arm. Give it up idiot. I’m gonna give it to somebody else.” Like at no point does that even cross his mind. Rather All Might tells Deku –“Look, you gotta work to do. You’re not up to that level yet but I’ll help you and I’ll do it with you.”

And that’s true that Touya wanted to be better than All Might which wasn’t realistic but he was also a child and rationality and setting realistic goals comes much later than being a fucking child. But Endeavor was so obsessed with his own shit that it was hard for him to get over his own hang ups and look through Touya’s problems. Touya could easily still be a hero if he accidentally singes his skin a little bit sometimes that’s not even close to the kind of damage that Deku does himself every time he fights anything. So, it’s not unrealistic to be like –“Okay, yeah I’ll help you and we’ll take it slow. We’ll help you get over your power and then when you get to school or whatever, you can get help from the tech department and make you a heat shield or whatever.”

There were many ways that he obviously could’ve worked around it but Endeavor didn’t give a shit about that because that wasn’t his goal. He’s goal wasn’t to nurture Touya rather his goal was to find a way to get past All Might. He didn’t give a shit about trying to take it slow or trying to help Touya to accomplish anything other than what he wanted and once Touya couldn’t do that, he’s like –“Get the fuck out of my face while I train this replacement child.”

Endeavor is a kind of a person who makes every single mistake it could have made, like starting right from the point where he buys a wife to the point where he tortures Shoto during training sessions. Like you all can tell that he almost like wanted to be a parent when he was like –“Oh, I need to protect Touya from his own power.” He vocalizes a sweet sentiment but also he’s the reason Touya is like this and he can’t just run away and that’s why I like what Rei says as well it’s like –“You just keep running away. You keep creating these problems and you just keep running forward to All Might but also you keep running away from what you have done.” And I am so happy with how Rei is characterized like she is so much more spunky and so much more like assertive than I thought. Like she actually talks back to Endeavor and even in the hospital scene, she has like a presence and says –“You know we will do this. You need to get yourself together and we need to atone together, but most of all you because you were a piece of shit.”

And I also like the little thing at the end where Shoto was like –“I talked with Mom before we came here and I told her that I was going to be the one to stop Touya, but no, we’ll stop him altogether.” To me it sounded like it was Rei’s idea where she was like –“No, you can’t let this piece of shit make this your problem.” I mean Endeavor was always running away. He ran away from Touya and all this stuff happened. He was ready to do it again in the hospital, saying that –“I can’t fight him, he’s my son and I can’t do it.” But Rei was like –“No, get up and take some fucking responsibility for your problems.”

And I love that it was Rei the one who came to that conclusion, because even Shoto was ready to be like –“Dad can’t do it. I’m destined to stop my brother.” And she was like –“No, it’s this asshole’s problem. He did this and yeah all of us could have done more but you can’t let him sit in a bed and wallow about being so pathetic. He needs to get up and he needs to solve this.” And there's no better character it could have been to have been the one that came to that conclusion.

And this is what I love about MHA that how sincere it is and what I mean by that is moments like these where it doesn’t really go out of its way to play into any specific tropes when it comes to this abuse storyline and instead just gives you hurt people moving past and making decisions that sounds reasonable. Like the fact that Shoto didn’t just go on the avenger mode but instead talked it over with his mother which usually doesn't happen in shounen manga/anime. When you decide on making a revenge plot in shounen, you just do it. You don’t go and talk to someone important in your life and seek emotional counsel in shounen. So yeah, I love that Horikoshi sensei is giving us mature and realistic contents like these.

Then in chapter 302 we see Rei asks Touya like –“It almost seems like you don’t want to really be a hero, like you don’t seem like you actually care about becoming a hero. It just seems like you’re obsessed and stuck because Endeavor is your dad and you feel like you have a legacy to live up to but he is abandoned you.” And of course Touya’s responses were like –“Fuck you, mom. I fucking hate you.” But she was right. If Endeavor just hadn’t been such a pig headed shit in dealing with the problem, Touya either would have grown up to the point where he realized it was not worth it or if he really wanted to be a hero, Endeavor could have actually helped foster him into one if his entire end goal wasn't dependent on Touya being the best one.

Did Touya need to be the greatest hero ever created?

No.

Because in their last real conversation, before Touya ran off to the mountain and got burned up, he said and acknowledged the fact that he wasn’t as good as Shoto right now, but he said –“One day, I might become great and you’ll be proud of me.” Touya wasn’t even there saying like –“Oh, I’m the greatest thing ever born. Look at my awesome fire. Oops I burned the mountain down.” It was just him being like –“Look, I’m still trying. Look at this cool thing I did. Acknowledge this one thing that I did.” And Endeavor’s only reaction is – “Shut the fuck up, kid. You fucking idiot. How many times I tell you not to do this?”

But when Touya does get burned up, it shows us Endeavor’s face in horror running to the mountain which again is so bizarre. Honestly I’m starting to wonder if we will get an Endeavor back story ‘cause his set of morals and values is so fucked up.

The issue is Endeavor does care, but he just doesn't understand how to care. Like on a base level, he has the positive emotion of caring about Touya’s well-being and that is about where it ends. Endeavor has no comprehension of what that means or how to do that in a good way.

Every idea he thinks of how to fix it is stupid and he's even obsessed with the notion of like –“When Touya uses too much of his fire, he burns himself. So, I guess he has to never ever use his power ever forever from now.” I mean this goes beyond ‘I'm socially awkward around ladies’.

I almost think Endeavor’s previous family was just nothing prior to him and he fucking hated that. This is probably edge dark turn for what they might end up doing but I’m going almost like the Hawks route like –“Dad was a drunk, mom didn’t give a shit and they fought all the time. I was the scared repressed kid, but then at school or whatever it turned out I was actually pretty awesome and I became popular to some extent by both like athletic and corporate events. I was cool for that aspect so I’m used to being around people but I have no understanding of how they work at all.” That’s my assumption.

Even when he keeps trying to apologize to his family it always comes off like –“Yeah, I’m a bad guy and you hate me, so I’m gonna buy you a house that I won’t live in.” I mean, you’re still not really trying are you? You’re just moving the problem ‘cause you just like –“Oh, they’ll just be happy without me. I just suck. I’m just going to go away.” But like, you’re not helping them heal up or whatever. You’re just like ‘I’m going to be nice now’ but that doesn’t make all the horrible shits you did go away.

Endeavor doesn’t have an understanding of how humans work just because of how he is, but now I’m really curious to see if there might be more behind that. I just want to see why he’s so obsessed with All Might, like where that came from.

The character he’s obviously a parallel to is Bakugo and with Bakugo, we do get to see that since his youth Bakugo equated being a hero and the triumph of being a hero with being as good as All Might. That is very light as far as his motivation goes but it’s a motivation nonetheless.

With Endeavor, we’ve only ever gotten as far as like –“He is strong and I’m weaker and that pisses me off.”

It's almost idolization in a different way where we’re like with Bakugo, it’s like –“That’s my goal. I want to be just like All Might.” Whereas with Endeavor, it's like –“That's my goal 'cause I’m pissed off that I’m not the best of the best.”

They both idolized him in similar ways and Bakugo obviously feels more socially adjusted than Endeavor. Even though Bakugo’s a dick, he’s aware of things and is surprisingly emotionally literate. Like the scene where him and Deku get in trouble after they fight in end of season 3, they're like cleaning the house or whatever and Bakugo makes that little reach out of like –“Hey, the fighting style you’re using is messed up for these reasons, so you should try doing this.”

Like that alone is way beyond anything I would ever expect that of Endeavor. Endeavor’s response when they were cleaning the house would have been like –“Don’t worry, I’ll move my room to a different floor, so we won’t have to talk anymore.”

Endeavor’s a fucking weirdo, I swear.

And also Endeavor’s like actual motivations of becoming No.1 hero are almost intentionally omitted from the whole Todoroki family subplot and it’s so uncanny. I’m really hoping that Horikoshi sensei actually does something with that cause I think it feels so shallow compared to how much time we've spent on it now exactly and I feel it’s intentional and we are going to get something more about Endeavor. It feels like one of those gaps that an author leaves specifically so you can question it until it fills you in.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Caught In The Storm" *Part 9*

So....did y'all like that cliffhanger?

Because...HAHAHA JK THAT'S NOT THE ENDING.

No, but actually...it was the original ending, but the original ending ended up being REALLY short. So, I wrote an ALTERNATE ending, that actually I really would prefer being the ACTUAL ending, but it had to go a different direction BEFORE the cliffhanger, so....you see my dilemma.

SO---

Here's what we're gonna do:

I'm going to put the ORIGINAL ending first, and then space it out, and put the ALTERNATE [better tbh] ending.

That way, you can have both. And I don't have to backtrack to undo my mistake due to my ADHD brain changing things 24/7.

Kay? Cool.

Also no neither of these are the ACTUAL ending, I refuse to have an odd number of chapters. REFUSE. So chapter 10 will be like an epilogue. Don't look at me like that.

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Part 10 (Epilogue is here!)

(This Gif is For the FIRST ending, there's a 2nd GIF that would be SPOILERS.)

Short Simple Ending #1

Raphael sat in his loft drinking scotch, for which he had done most of the day. He wasn't dressed, he hadn’t showered, he was a mess. He didn't know if he could ever come out of this. He sat there wallowing in his regret and sorrow, going over every interaction you two had ever had in your entire lives of knowing each other pinpointing everything he could have done differently. What he should have done differently, and the fact that if he had, you'd be there with him right now instead of getting married to someone you didn't love. He's just in the middle of chastising himself again when he heard a knock at the door.

“Liv, I told you I don't need your help; You can't help me right now!” he yelled to the door

“It's not Liv…”your voice came softly through the door.

His eyes lit up, he raced to the door and threw it open. Revealing you and your wedding dress, sopping wet.

“Well I hope you're happy!” you stomped into his apartment angrily.

“...What would I be happy about? Where is your husband? He asked half jokingly.

“I Don't HAVE a husband,” you spat.

“Really now?” He was enjoying this too much.

“No, I don't. And you just made me humiliate a poor, generous, loving, caring, amazing man. And I just dumped him in front of all of his friends and family, and in front of a million fans on a live stream and now everyone knows and I'm probably laughing stock right now!!!” you screamed angrily, pacing the apartment.

“I did all that?” He smirked.

“Yes, you did!” you crossed your arms as you walked back to him.

“And how did I do that?” He took both of your hands and pulled you closer, still smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“By telling me you love me!!!” you kept your angry face stoic. “How could I marry Nathan when I knew that I was supposed to be with someone else?”

“You couldn't,” He smiled.

“I couldn't…” You whispered as he pulled you even closer and took you in his arms.

“I love you Rafael,” you looked right into his big green eyes. It was the first time you had actually said it to him in those exact words, with all the love and emotion you had always meant it to be.

He stared at you for a moment, running through the words in his mind. He had yelled them so angrily and upset at you last night, not the way you needed. Not the way you deserved.

“I love you too, Y/N,” He smiled, cradling your face before pulling you into another mind blowing kiss; it had only been the second time you had ever kissed in your lives but it felt like you had done it a million times, like it was supposed to be this way. Like it was always supposed to be this way.

You were so glad you stayed through the storm.

-----

Actual" Really Long, Detailed, Funny Ending #2

-----

"But you don't love him,'' Rafael pointed out.

"You don't know that!" You snapped.

"Yes I do!" He shot back.

“How could you possibly know that?”

"Because you have never looked at him the way you look at me!" He exclaimed.

Your face went from upset and sad, to absolute rage after hearing him say that.

"You arrogant, selfish, son of a bitch…" you growled.

"How DARE you say that to me?! How DARE you use my own feelings and how much I loved you against me? Get out," You grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door.

"No look I'm sorry Y/N, but it's true. You don't love him and you're only marrying him to spite me!" He continued to dig himself a hole.

"So what?!” You said without thinking, making you both go wide eyed and silent.

“Are-- Are you serious?” He stammered.

“What if I was?” You now had an idea reeling.

“Wha...why would you…?” His eyes narrowed.

“Let’s say that I don’t believe you right now, which I don’t. And I kick you out of here, and I go through with my wedding in the morning? After ALL of this?” You gestured between the two of you.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" Rafael asked as he eyed the two empty bottles of champagne.

"Don't even-- Maybe," You stood in front of the view of the bottles. You waved it off, trying to focus.

“What if I told you that the ONLY way that I will believe that you are completely serious and NOT just drunk, is if you try and stop my wedding?” You smirked.

“You’re not--” Rafael started to laugh, but you kept a serious face on. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know Rafael, I guess we’ll see tomorrow who’s ‘serious’ and who’s not!” You slammed the door in his face, leaving him dumbfounded.

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

The next day you were in the bridal room getting ready; It was pouring rain outside, it seemed appropriate.

Amanda, Kelsey and Olivia were helping you polish your tiara, ironing your dress, fixing your makeup and all that jazz. Hundreds of fans lined outside the church since someone had leaked where you were getting married. Everything came down to this moment. It was supposed to be the biggest day of your life, and you were terrified. But not for the reasons normal brides would be worried about. For one you were hungover, and for two you had made the most idiotic ultimatum to Rafael last night. Why would you DO that?! Why did he bring out the absolute snarkiest, competitive side of you?

“You're shaking,” Amanda noticed.

“It's just nerves, you need some champagne'' Kelsey grabbed a champagne flute and shoved it in your hand; you downed it.

“You're doing the right thing,” Kelsey assured you, as if she knew what you were thinking. You looked at Olivia and Amanda.

“And what do you say?” You genuinely asked them both.

“I think that whatever you want to do is the right thing,'' Olivia replied, squeezing her hand. You smiled thankfully, glancing at the door.

He hadn’t come yet, maybe he was just drunk. Maybe he was lying in his bed hungover, wondering why he went and made an ass out of himself for no reason. Then again, maybe he was waiting for a big crowd for a huge display of affection, God WHY did you do this...

------

When it was time, you walked up to Finn who was waiting at the doors of the chapel. He was dressed in a tuxedo with a baby blue tie.

“You look beautiful, baby girl,” he smiled. “Are you ready to do this?”

“Now or never,” You smiled, still glancing at the exits. You noted the cameras that were set up to livestream this to millions of people; you had totally forgotten about that. Oh god, now if there was a “public display” it wouldn’t just go to the guests, it would be broadcast around the world!

The Wedding March began to play as the chapel doors opened. You proceeded to walk down the aisle and looked at everyone watching you. All of your past and present family from the SVU squad was there. Grandpa Kragen and Grandpa Munch, Uncle Brian, Uncle Tucker, etc.

Then you looked at Nathan's family, a bunch of white rich stuffy but welcoming people. You noticed all of the crowds lining outside the windows of the church cheering you on, some crying, some holding signs. Then you looked at Nathan waiting for you at the end of the aisle smiling proudly. He really did love you.

You reached the end of the aisle and took Nathan's hands.

“Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today…”

The Preacher went on through the normal wedding exchanges until he got to “the” line..

“If anyone here has any reason that these two should not be wed, please speak now or forever hold your peace,” The preacher announced as you held your breath.

You anxiously looked around the chapel, looking for any sign of Rafael. Maybe he had snuck in the back, or was hiding behind a lady with a hat. He was going to come, wasn’t he? Maybe you were right, maybe you were right along.

….Nothing. He wasn’t there. He didn’t come…

You felt your heart shatter, you were officially dead inside. And now the husk of you was being married off to this poor man.

“Do you Nathan Lee Price, take YN to be your lovely wedded wife, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?

“I do,”

“Y/N, do you take Nathan Lee Price to be your lovely wedded husband, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?”

You looked to Nathan, then you looked to your side of the wedding, then you looked to his side, you looked to the fans outside again, you looked to the sky, looked to the ground and then you looked back at Nathan.

"I…"

“NO SHE DOES NOT!!!!”

The chapel doors swung open revealing Rafael dressed in a tuxedo. The entire room gasped in horror, and you tried your best not to run to him right then and there. He ran down the aisle until he reached the altar.

“I’m sorry sir, we’ve already past the--” The preacher started to talk but Rafael put a hand in front of his face.

“I don’t care, padre,” He chortled.

"Cutting it a little close there, counselor," You muttered.

"You're the one who chose to get married during rush hour in New York City, carino," He winked.

“Man, are you serious? Really? You’ve had all this time, and you decide NOW that you want my fiancé?” Nathan asked him in a hushed voice, trying to be discreet.

Rafael however, was NOT trying to be discreet.

“This woman told me last night, if I really loved her, that I would come and stop this wedding,” He was addressing the crowd. “That I would stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life,” He turned to you and Nathan. “Marrying someone she does not love,”

The room gasped again, Nathan’s family looked horrified. Camera phones began filming, fans outside were going NUTS.

“...Is that true, Y/N?” Nathan asked you with the most pitiful look.

“I mean I--” You looked from him to Rafael, who had a huge grin on his face. Well, you DID ask for this.

“I didn’t use those exact words,” You shrugged apologetically. The pastor closed the Bible, the guests were chattering like mad, cameras flashed, the mob outside began to force themselves inside to see the drama.

“I..I can’t believe this, I can’t believe you…” Nathan shook his head in disbelief.

“Nathan I’m really sorry, I just--” You looked at Rafael again; his grin wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. “I had to be sure that he really loved me,”

“So he had to PROVE his love to you, when I have shown it to you EVERY SINGLE DAY?” Nathan started to yell, forgetting about appearances.

“I mean, no-- it’s a whole thing, you wouldn’t understand--” You started to laugh unintentionally, thinking of how you and Rafael had your own twisted sick sense of humor.

“You’re goddamn right I don’t understand!” He continued to yell.

“...She’s a flair for the dramatic Nate, what can I say?” Rafael smirked as he stepped up on the stair you were standing on and wrapped an arm around you. You really hated that you were enjoying this at Nate’s expense but-- Rafael was right. You wanted him to publicly admit it, and he delivered. And you were ecstatic.

“Yeah well, I hope you’re both happy in dramatic HELL,” Nathan spewed before stomping off out of the chapel with his groomsmen quickly tailing him. His side of the wedding began exiting the chapel furiously grumbling and yelling profanities at you.

You glanced at your side of the room, the entire NYPD. They all surprisingly looked very pleased, although some people like Kragen were skeptical about this suave ADA coming in here and sweeping you off your feet. They shook their heads and a few applauded, especially your current family.

“Oh we’re not done folks,” Rafael announced as he grabbed the preacher before he could leave.

“Wha...what now?” You were confused but growing more excited by the second.

“You wanted me to be sure that this is what I wanted,” Rafael took both of your hands. “And I want you to KNOW that this,” He gestured between the two of you. “This is all I will ever want, for the rest of my life. And I want to prove it to you,” He smiled at you and pulled something from his jacket pocket.

“Oh, Rafa you really don’t--” You started to say that stopping this wedding was proof enough for you, but he was already down on his knees.

“Y/N….Will you marry me?” He asked. “....Right now?” He added, gesturing to the preacher. Now it was your side’s turn to gasp loudly again, as you stared at the huge diamond ring Rafael was holding out to you.

Where did he get that? WHEN did he get that? Had he been planning on proposing to you before? A zillion questions ran through your brain but you did your best to quiet them all so you could focus on the ONE question that mattered right now.

“....DUH!” You finally slapped him over the head playfully and grabbed the ring from him. He laughed and slipped it on your finger before pulling you into a beautiful, perfect kiss. Everyone on your side laughed and cheered, happy their baby girl was getting her happy ending.

“Well alright then, I guess let’s start this thing over!” The preacher laughed, opening his Bible once again.

“Rafael Barba, do you take Y/N to be your lovely wedded wife, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?” He asked Rafael.

“I do,” Rafael beamed at you.

“Do you--” .

“WAIT,” You put up a hand to stop him, making everyone start to mumble curiously again. Rafael’s face fell.

“...Are you serious? You’re changing your mind?” He muttered anxiously.

“No!” You shook your head. “No I…” You looked at the floor. “God this is so stupid…” You laughed to yourself nervously, not really believing you were actually going to admit this.

“....What?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“I um…” You bit your lip. “Oh God…” You turned to the preacher. “Sorry!” He brushed it off.

“Baby what are you--” Rafael was seriously starting to worry.

“Please, please don’t freak out,” You begged him. His eyes remained confused, but soft and understanding.

“Okay…” He gave you a look.

“I um,” You took a deep breath. “I may or may not have learned this...just in case,”

You took another deep breath, and recited the words you had practiced in front of your mirror for MONTHS after you had first met Rafael.

“Yo, Y/N, te tomo a ti, Rafael Barba, como mi esposo,”

Rafael immediately broke into the biggest smile you may have ever seen on him, tears instantly wet his eyes as you spoke.

“Prometo serte fiel en lo próspero y en lo adverso,” You continued, vowing you were NOT going to break down crying.

“en la salud y en la enfermedad, Amarte y respetarte todos los días de mi vida.,” You finished successfully without shedding a tear, unlike Rafael who was a full on hot mess of tears in front of you.

“Baby I…” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that,” He whispered, tears still catching in his throat.

“I told you,” You bit your lip. “I have always been in love with you,”

“And I am so in love with you,” He grinned, pulling your face into his for “the” kiss.

“Well I guess you can kiss the bride!” The preacher laughed sarcastically as everyone broke into cheers.

You glanced up at the cameras as you walked down the aisle with your new husband. God you hoped that hadn’t blown up in your face, but if it did-- you had your Rafa to hold you through the storm.

[occult-castiel]

Leave a message (after the beep!)

Suptober. Day 13: Rewind Dean has a few things to say to Cas. Word count: 2542 [Read on Ao3]

3 Weeks.

Dean's been stealing glances at his phone for over an hour. The dim light of the hall that creeps from under his door is the only reason he can see the thing, blurred out to a barely-there grey hunk of plastic.

The idea is fucking stupid. He doesn't care what Sam thinks. Sam wasn't even supposed to know. Let alone have fucking opinions.

But Dean slipped.

And it took more effort than he will ever admit to walk out of the kitchen without clocking his brother in the goddamn jaw.

Fuck Sam and fuck the phone.

He turns around, away from the stupidest temptation of his life, and demands sleep come.

It's only mildly successful.

2 Month, 1 Week.

Nothing bad can happen from a phone call. Doing it once can’t hurt you any more than you are now

Sam's a well-meaning kid. He really is. But sometimes he just needs to can it.

'Cause he had to go and say some shit like that, completely unprompted — they were talking about potential witch activity in Utah, not Dean's feelings, for Christ's sake — and now it's all Dean can think about now that the distractions of the day have bled into a dark room and cold bed.

And that gray hunk of plastic on his desk is laughing at him. He could reach it if he sat up. Stretched a bit.

But the idea is dumb. And Sam doesn't get it. He really fucking doesn’t.

Except Dean knows he's kind of full of crap.

He grits his teeth, shoves the covers to the side, and grabs his phone.

With each passing buzz, his heart stutters, breath cut into shorter and shorter spurts.

Stupidstupidstupid.

It- it isn't like he's gunna answer. Dean knows he not, but it just rings and rings and —

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

And it hurts.

He calls again every night for the next week. Of course, he never picks up. Sam doesn't ask.

4 Months.

Dean kicks the door after it slams shut. Throws his gun at his headboard, if it goes off and shoots him, oh fucking well. It's great. Just fantastic.

He pulls his phone out without thinking. Clicks Cas.

It rings, and for a moment his shoulders relax as the familiar greeting plays. Cause its Cas' voice. And fuck. Just… fuck.

Then it beeps, and he actually does the one thing he's wanted for months.

"None of your douchebag family will answer me. And I've tried friggin' everything, I swear to Christ."

He runs his hand over his face, glances up at the sour-yellow ceiling.

"How you ever stood them is beyond me dude."

And then, like a rational human being. He hangs up and pretends that whatever that was didn't happen.

Once the bitter taste of angels that don’t pick the fucking phone up from earlier that day fades, Dean stares at the darkened ceiling.

He left a voicemail. A fucking voicemail.

Pathetic.

4 Months, 3 Weeks.

So he hasn't called again since his, uh, slip up. And Sam keeps giving him these little looks. And he knows that Sam knows, and knows he isn't calling because he's a changed man or whatever.

Maybe Sam would drop it, whatever the hell he thinks Dean's mess is, if he could manage to eat.

Jody, Claire, Kaia, and Alex are all around the table with them. Jody's the charmer she always is, talking about how she's grateful for the help and oh, of course you guys are gunna stay for dinner! Ah-ah! No buts.  

There was a hunt in town she tracked down with Claire, a huge vamps nest — we're talking dozens — and called them over for help. And is now feeding them. Because she's a saint and never deserved to be in the know in the first place.

Dean looks at the food. Pork lathered in dark brown graveyard with a mountain of buttery mashed potatoes. There's a pile of carrots on Sam's plate. Dean opted out.

Not that he's eating now. No, mostly just pushing it all around. He does eat in general.

But Claire isn't looking at him. Hasn't. She barely managed a glance up when he saved her — just a small nod and weary glance.

Sam, on the other hand, may as well be ogling.

Dean wishes he could read Sam's mind, find out where he's keeping it so Dean can wallow in misery without his brother being keen on some of the finer details, thank you very much.

He manages a few bites. Its excellent, mouth-watering, home-cooked goodness he's missed fiercely since he got a taste for it the few days Mrs. Butters was around.

But right now? Turns his stomach.

On the way back home, Sam clears his throat. Dean grips the wheel a little tighter.

"So —"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Samantha."

In the corner of his eye, Sam's shoulder slump. His brother looks down and sighs out a sad little noise.

But the rest of the drive is quiet. And that's a win in Dean's book.

*

It's roughly midnight, and books are scattered across the library table. They're all open to different pages, but none of it matters. Not really.

Dean's combing through it all anyway. Has been since Heavens decided they have a no-call policy with anyone named Winchester.

The piles he has laid around him have grown increasingly larger as the weeks have drug on. Spiked exponentially when he decided not to call anymore.

"Hey Dean."

Dean snaps his head up mid-sentence. Sam stands in the threshold, holding a plate. In pajamas.

Dean just looks at him. "What?"

"Made you food." He lifts the plate up a fraction

"That looks like a cold cut, so made is a generous word."

Sam has the audacity to slump into himself, full-on wounded-puppy mode. So Dean rolls his eyes and waves him over.

The plate gets sat down with a distinct clank, and Sam pats his shoulder.

"You know I just… want what's best for you."

Dean tenses his shoulders, closes the book in front of him. He speaks through his teeth.

"Yeah, well I never had it in the first place. And now it is gone, and there's nothing I can do."

"You don't know that Dean."

He glues his eyes to the back of the book. Balls his fists.

"Don't I? That — That fucking thing just —"

"I know. But it's also gone. We don't know what happened."

Dean chooses then to look over, fix his brother with a proper glare so he'll go the hell away — but sees it.

Sitting innocuously on the plate, like it isn't an affront to everything Dean would rather not, is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sam's talking but he can't hear it. His brains turned to mush, a radio-static circus of nothing.

The bottom of his chair screeches as it drags against the floor.

And Dean can’t see.

Sam grabs his arm, he shakes it off. He moves decisively, tries too, but his eyes prickle and he can’t see shit, and he isn’t about to cry right there in front of his brother, validate every stupid thought the guy has that’s probably one-hundred percent right.

His door clicks shut, and he pressed himself against it. Slides down until he hits the icy floor.

Dean's throat is a constricted cage, each breath in has to be muscled in, down, out. Each wobble as much as the last.

Sam doesn't know shit. He doesn’t know what he's talking about. He really doesn't.

Calling someone who can’t answer, won’t ever answer, is fucking stupid. It's not therapeutic.

When he rubs a hand over his face. It comes back wet, and his eyes sting.

"Fuck."

He fishes for his phone. Going to Cas' number is muscle memory at this point.

It rings. Cause Sam can't help but keep the thing charged.

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

The ball in his chest is impossibly tight. Why hasn't he called? Just to hear him again, the gruff tenor that's like gravel and silk and the only thing he ever wants to hear, ever. And now he only has nine words he'll ever hear him say again.

That's it. Two sentences.

You saved the whole world. He didn’t save shit.

And what the fuck is he supposed to do now? How is he supposed to do anything? He’s never been any good, not as good as he needs to be. Maybe if he would’ve been — or did somethin’ different, anything different —

Dean threads his fingers in his hair and balls his fist. Squeezes his eyes shut against the pool of tears that just leak out, and curls in on himself. His guts are twisted and tight, just like the rest of him. Every part of him shakes, the hand vice-gripping his hair should hurt, should be enough to pull him back to sanity, but the tears don’t stop.

And really what does it matter if he cries. Chucks gone, and The Empty, that — that thing got what was coming to it.

But Cas didn't come back.

He lulls his head against the door, untangles the hand from his hair like his fingers piston operated they ache so bad

God, Cas should’ve just left him in Hell.

Maybe he's Heaven, Billy had said with a shrug. Casual. Like she didn't understand. And Dean knows she does. She gets it more than any of them, saw just what this shit did the last time. Saw exactly how much he didn't want to be around.

Jack had to fuck off to put the universe in balance, so he’s MIA and no help. And Heaven doesn't seem to give a shit.

There must've been a beep somewhere, so Dean just goes with it. Presses the phone to his ear again and works his jaw open until it’s loose enough to allow something resembling words can happen.

"It's — it's bullshit." God Dean can't recognize his own voice, pulled thin and hoarse. "You — you know that right? Bullshit." He shakes his head. Tries to take a deep breath that comes out only slightly less ragged. "You always left. And I — I get that you had to sometimes. But no one wanted you here more than me."

He wipes his face off with the collar of his shirt. His skull screams in sharp pain, and his temples thud. And normally this would be too long of a pause, but normally you don't start a voicemail off trying not to sob, and normally they're made for people who can actually listen to them. So whatever.

"This is stupid. It's not — voicemails ain't your style." His breath leaves, and exhaustion sets deep into his bones. "You always just called back for the explanation. You'd leave 'em, though."

At least Dean assumes. Every call back he'd ever gotten from the guy he'd have to fill him in on whatever was happening anyway. Guess it makes sense in a way. If you have enough time to listen to a message, you've got enough time to call.

The space behind his robes aches when he says, "We both shoulda picked up more, I guess. And Sammy wants me to call now. Like it makes up for shit. It doesn't."

He swipes the little red phone to the left, and stares at the word Cas in his contacts page.

But the screen goes blank, and all he can see are his puffy red eyes reflected in the black screen, and that's motivation, so he gets ready for bed.

1 Year, 10 Months, 13 Days

He calls a few times after that. But tries not to leave voicemails for someone that's just gone, in every sense of the word.

It’s dumb. Still really dumb. And he has no defense for it. Eventually Sam hands him Cas' old phone and a charger. All of the missed voicemails untouched.

Dean could swear he remembers ever last one.

They're mostly simple crap, sometimes. Updates.

"Sam and Eileen are getting hitched. They're pretty fucking disgusting together. But sometimes they look at me, and I can just see it, man. See how they like, bubble themselves off." He laughs, but it's strained.  "Guess it just be written on my face. Which is just friggin’ fantastic. Cause I'm happy for them. I've always wanted that for Sam. But I wanted it for us too. Fucked up that I can only say it now, huh."

"I don't like the way burgers taste anymore. And I, uh, have a bumper sticker now. It's a bee. I kept it together until Sam got misty-eyed." There's a pause for a touch too long, then, "That mixtapes been the only thing in Baby for a month."

"I kept the trenchcoat. Wore it earlier. Got cold out for the first time since —" he sighs. "You wore it better. Looks like shit on me. It pretty much lives in my closet. Can't get monster guts on it that way."

But sometimes it's just a confession, none of the other bullshit. Just the truth.

"Look. I'm not mad. So don't think that. Cause I'm not. Wish I was. It's — it's always been easier. But I was trying to get my head on straight. I would've for you. I just… Don't know how now."

"Can't tell if I like using your old angel blade or fucking hate it. Don't like much of anything anymore. You were better with it."

"Id pray to you, but this is all I got. And I wish I could hope you're up there. But then I'd hope there isn't any pay per view Earth or whatever. Cause this shit? Is pitiful." A sigh. "G'night, Cas."

And one night, a long time later, he's sitting with his back against his bed, nestled next to the end table he never used, he says the truth in a way he knows he should've years and years ago.

"Guess this is like prayin', ain't it? Sammy caught me a few months ago. He wasn't even surprised I'm still doing this. Told me it was, uh — It was okay. Even if I just… never did. And you know what? I don't think l can." He gives a small laugh. "Hell, I only leave messages when I'm feeling, I dunno, brave? Like some part of me thinks you could still hear it and tell me to get lost."

Logically, he knows Cas wouldn't have kicked him to the curb. Wanted him just as much.

"God I listen to it almost every night dude. Just hearing this stupid fucking line —  It's like hitting rewind, for a few seconds."

The rest comes off easy, in its own way

"I miss you, Buddy. And I — I love you more than I know what to do with. I wish it would've been enough. But instead, it killed you."

He ends it, and calls back. Just to listen to the only thing he'll ever hear Cas say again. It’s not a replacement, never will be until he can see if Heaven really does have an angels left.

But the only faith he ever had is just an echo on the other end.

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

[operationcavill]

Just Fun

I’ve pictured a younger Henry x Y/N while writing this, but as always, please imagine whatever you please 🖤 This contains sexual content. Please do not read if you are not a fan of explicit material.

Henry wakes to the sound of a faint clinking and a smile on his face. The sun is peeking through the window and he can smell Y/N’s perfume. He turns where he’d hoped to find her sleeping, but he sees her sitting on the bed buckling her belt. “Why you always leave like that?”

Henry wakes to the sound of a faint clinking and a smile on his face. The sun is peeking through the window and he can smell Y/N’s perfume. He turns where he’d hoped to find her sleeping, but he sees her sitting on the bed buckling her belt. “Why you always leave like that?”

“What do you mean?” His arm wraps around her waist and his head rests on the pillow she was laying on just moments before, “Henry,” Her voice was a bit groggy and he loved that.

His hand rubs her stomach gently. “I mean; why don’t you ever stay with me?” She sighs at his question. She doesn’t want to give the answer; she doesn’t want to give anything away. “Am I that boring that you can’t even stand to sleep beside me?”

He feels her back straighten, as if she was suddenly tense. “No, I think you’re great. You’re fun. I just don’t wanna make a mess of something fun, you know?” Henry feels something inside him fall.

“So, it’s just fun for you?” Y/N adjusts her bracelet and clears her throat. No, it’s not just fun. It’s almost everything. She feels Henrys arm slip from her waist, immediately missing the warmth. She went into this for a good time, they both did, but when Henry started showing any other signs of affection or suggested dinner or a movie, she felt a ping in her chest. She felt it whenever he smiled or said even said hello.

She hangs her head and stares at her knees. “It’s a lot of things, that’s the problem.” He watches her abruptly get off of the bed and shove on her shoes, tripping and cussing her way down the hall as she walks off.

Henry throws off the sheet to go after her, not a care that he’s completely naked. “Y/N, wait,” He hears his front door open and his heart beats faster. “Y/N!” As soon as the door slams, her eyes pool with tears and Henry sluggishly walks back to his room. He flops down so hard that it hurts his back, what hurts more is that his eyes go straight to her necklace on the night stand. He takes it and twirls it in his fingers before putting it around his own neck.

As Y/N drives home she’s tempted to turn back around and tell him how she feels. She won’t, though. She’s too prideful. Henry’s voice calling out to her stings her ears and the lump in her throat has become unbearable. When she reaches her apartment she struggles with the lock, her teary eyes are blurring her vision which only makes her more frustrated. She finally enters and her roommate, Nora, jumps as she takes in Y/N’s appearance. “What’s wrong?! What happened? Are you ok?” Nora’s job was to take care of others. She was a nurse who works crazy hours and still made the time for their venting sessions.

“I’m fine. I just wanna go to bed, it’s late. Or early, or whatever.” She tries her best to hide her little sniffles but fails miserably.

“Y/N, it’s 4:43 am. Too early for bull shit. Come on, sit down. I’ll get coffee.” Nora sits her down on the couch and throws a quilt at her. She arrives with too mugs, hers being quite larger than Y/N’s. “Spill it.”

Her exhale is shaky but she explains the night before, trying not to get worked up again. “He called me around 8, asking me to meet him for dinner. I told him I’d meet him at his house instead. I could hear it in his voice, you know? That’s what’s so shitty. I think he feels the same way,” her voice breaks but she continues, “but I can’t tell him. I see him lying there and it’s like, I feel myself getting ready to explode. I just keep leaving him and I can never look at him when I leave because if I do, I won’t leave at all. I would stay there, I would stay there and tell him that I love him and risk losing it all.” Y/N looks back to Nora, who’s eyes have gone wide.

She takes the mug from her and sits it on the table. She grabs her hands, making Y/N look at her. “I’m not going to tell you to tell him but I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t. Maybe you just need some time away from each other to be sure what it is that you’re feeling.” Y/N nods and gives her a sad excuse of a smile.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed. Call me on your break?” Nora doesn’t further pry the conversation but promises that she’ll call. She looks in on Y/N before leaving and finds her asleep with a disgruntled look on her face. Her sleep is dreamless, restless. Every fifteen minutes she tosses and turns until she lies flat on her stomach with her eyes fixed on the clock. With her vision focusing in and out on the numbers, her mind goes back to Henry. Not that he wasn’t on her mind already but he was there, clear as day as if he was in the bed with her.

So many questions float through her brain, so many emotions. Why was she such a coward? Why couldn’t she just stay, just sleep there and wake up to him? Y/N is torn from her thoughts when her phone rings. The vibration on the wooden table makes her groan a ‘Hello?’ into the device. “Well, I guess you’re still in bed then?” Oh, she forgot Nora was going to call. “Jenny and I are gonna go out tonight and you’re coming with us. She met this guy at like, a spinning class or something and he asked her to meet him but she doesn’t want to go alone, so I got dragged into it. Meaning you are too.”

“Why does that mean I have to go? I don’t want to. I wanna stay here.” Her ear is filled with sighs and what could only be described as the kind of scolding that your grandmother would give you. “You can be such a dick; you know?”

Her roommate rolls her eyes even though Y/N can’t see her, “Yeah but so can you. It’ll be fun, we’ll have some frilly drinks and stuff.” Once she has Y/N agree she gleefully announced she’ll be home soon and hangs up the phone.

Y/N looks at the clock once more and decides she can wallow for a few more hours. She pulls the covers closer to her body and rolls around until a comfortable position is found. In what seems like the impossible, Y/N actually falls asleep.

Henry, however, hasn’t slept a wink. He can’t. How could he? He’s been playing with that necklace for hours now and he hasn’t stopped thinking about Y/N. She should be beside him right now, her cold toes poking at his legs. He blinks hard to try to relieve the tired burn of his eyes. Henry thinks if he can stare at the ugly dots of the popcorn ceiling just long enough, he may finally doze off.  He finds himself questioning the night before. He could’ve flat out told her he wanted whatever it was that they did have, to be more. He might even have said that he loved her. Why did he have to go get himself in this mess? And what did Y/N mean when she said it was a lot of things?

Buzz. Buzz. His feet sprint to his phone in hopes that it's Y/N but to his dismay it's a text from Jack, asking him to come out tonight. He responds that he doesn't think he's in the mood, which in turn makes his friend call in order to convince him. “Come on. Just stop by, drinks on me, aye?” He’s silent for a few seconds before finally giving into Jacks offer. Henry throws his phone back on the bed and walks to his bathroom, grabbing a towel on his way.

The hot water hits his chest and he sighs. He lets the water rain over his head, making his long hair cling to his forhead. Henry opened his eyes and focuses in on Y/N’s necklace. It sways back and forth, back and forth. His mind goes to the night before and he pictures her moving on him, for him, just like that necklace; back and forth. She dug her nails into his chest and his into her hips, her chest moving just out of reach in front of his face. His hand moves to his dick, now hard and begging to be touched. He moves slowly, just like she would. He thinks about that dirty image and replays it over and over until her mouth pops into his mind. Those lips wrapped around him, “Fuck,” She always moved her tongue in the best way, swirling it around and if he was lucky, licking him clean. He closes his eyes and continues to move his hand. Even though Henry has just started; he’s already finishing, gritting his teeth and grunting.

—————

“You look so good in this that it’s actually stupid.” Nora zips up Y/N’s dress and fluffs her hair. Before she can turn around to talk to her, she’s rummaging through her closet flinging shoes around until she finds the perfect pair. “These!”

Y/N dodges the heels and throws a pillow at her careless roommate, “Try to kill me, why don’t you?” She picks up the shoes and flails them in the air before flopping on her bed.

Nora just rolls her eyes and scoffs, “Shut up, put the shoes on. Cabs gonna be here soon.” Once she leaves the room, Y/N wiggles on the heels and involuntarily extends her arm to her desk to grab her necklace.

“Shit.” She looks in her unmade bed, under it, under the desk and even the bathroom but the necklace is nowhere to be found. Nora finds her on her hands and knees with her head under the couch.

She snickers at her and pokes her butt with her foot, “Y/N, did you pre-game? Are you already drunk?”

“What? No, I can’t find my necklace.” Then it clicked that she left it at Henry’s, “Fuck a duck.”

Nora laughs, “What?”

“I left it at his.” They sigh in unison and Y/N gives Nora an upset look. She pulls her up off the floor and drags her to the door.

“I bet it’s in the car. We’ll look for it in the morning, let’s get outta here and have some fun!” The ride to the spot was proven difficult for the driver, with the two in the back singing very loudly to a song that he doesn’t know, he was more than glad that they left him a nice tip.

Upon entering, the duo searches for their friend who seems to have not arrived yet. They order drinks and sit at the end of the bar. “So, where did she meet this guy again?”

Nora takes a drink before answering, “She told me she met him at a spinning class. Which is weird cause I’ve gone to that class and there are zero guys. His name is Jake, or jack or something.” They both laugh and Nora suddenly waves, “Oh, look! They’re here.” Before Y/N can turn, she notices her friends face fall.

“What? What is it?” Nora just makes a funny smile, just like she makes when she’s uncomfortable. She finally turns her body on the stool and her eyes meet Henry’s, causing him to freeze in his place. Her feet meet the floor and Nora grabs her wrist. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom, Ok?”

“If you don’t come back, I’m kicking your ass later for lying to me.” Y/N reassures her that she’ll come back and heads to the bathrooms. She ignores the half-drunk girls and makes her way to the sink, looking at herself. She adjusts her dress and fixes her hair.

Back at the bar, there’s an awkward silence between Nora and Henry but she breaks it, “Okay, Cavill. Let’s get to it.”

He cuts her off with a nervous laugh, “You know, you can call me Henry.”

She gives him a blank stare and sports no amusement, “Listen up, Cavill. Y/N is my best friend so I’m obligated to tell you to get your shit together and tell her how you feel. Seriously, whatever you two have, talk about it.”

“Well, it’s not exactly easy when she’s sneaking out of the house every five-seconds.” He downs the rest of his drink and places it on the bar.

Nora guffaws and thinks she needs about 3 more drinks to get through this conversation. “You ever think to go after her, you freaking idiot.” Then it clicks, he was too worried about bothering her to go after her but was that what she really wanted?

Henry nods at the bartender for another round then returns to their conversation, “So, should I like go get her?”

“Sure. Good a time as any!” Nora pushes her empty shot glass away and laughs, “…I’ve had too many, startin’ to yell.”

“Well, Buzzed Nora is enlightening. Fingers crossed, eh?” Henry makes his way to the tiny hall where the bathrooms are located. He knows she’ll be right pissed with him waiting for her but Nora got him all determined and okay, a little nervous.

Y/N checks her ass out in the mirror and sighs, getting the attention of a girl applying lipstick. “If you’re worried about your ass, don’t. That dress is incredible.”

She is taken aback a bit but giggles, “Thank you. You look incredible yourself.” After a small chat, she leaves the bathroom feeling a little more confident and convinced that she’ll just ignore Henry the rest of the night. Her plan comes to a screeching halt as she finds him leaned up against the wall in front of the door. “Shit.”

Henry raises his eye brow, “Nice to see you too, Y/N,” She gives him a pathetic excuse of a smile and slowly begins to walk away from him but he follows. He gets close enough to stop her and to her disappointment, right in the middle of what looks like a sea of dancing bodies. His arm slips around her front and pulls her to him, “Always running away. I would complain a lot more but you’ve got such a nice ass.” He knew how to get under her skin, she abruptly turns and scowls. “I’m kidding, kind of.”

She shakes her head to get her hair out of her face and avoids his face, “I have to go find Nora.”

“Ah, but you don’t. She knows we’re gonna talk.” Y/N makes a mental note to get back at her but the thought fades when Henry kisses her cheek and her hand flies to his chest to stop him. A familiar glint dangles from his neck and her brows furrow.

Her fingers pull the charm from the necklace out of his shirt and he gulps at the feeling of her touching his skin, “Why are you wearing my necklace?”

“It was the only part of you that stayed.” Suddenly, she feels closed in and hurt all at once. That risk-losing-it-all feeling washes over her and she tries to brush past him, but his arm catches hers and he leads her to a dark secluded nook, where only a few people who are much too into their drinks and own conversations.

The close proximity of their bodies makes her heart race and the soothing touch of his hand on her back is almost too much, “Let’s go back to the bar.” She catches his eyes and he gives her one soft kiss before getting even closer.

“I may not know what’s going on in your head, but I know that when I do this,” He pulls her to him, looking her right in the eye, “you start to breathe heavy.” Henrys mouth moves closer to her ear and a hand slaps her backside causing her to moan, “and when I do that, you purr like a fucking kitten.” Her nails dig into his bicep and she attempts to turn her head away from his, but his hand moves to her jaw in order to keep it in place. “No, no, Look at me. I’m not finished.” Y/N’s eyes find his and she knows she has no chance. “If you wanna leave, fine. But not until I’m done talking.” His hand slips under her skirt and his chest connects with hers, pinning her to the wall behind them. Henry’s mouth moves to her ear as his hand ghosts over her panties.

Her teeth bite into her bottom lip in order to stop herself from groaning but she fails. “Now that I’ve really got your attention, I’m gonna start.” His lips barely touch the shell of her ear and she shivers. “I wake up every day wishing you were in my bed. You see, we have these incredible nights together where I get the privilege of making you moan for me, come for me.” His hand moves her underwear to the side and a finger teases her. “I get to do this to you, I can get you wet but I can’t get you to say you love me.” Henry lets the word slip from his lips and it travels through her ear then all the way down to the pit of her stomach.

Another moan escapes her but not only is it filled with pleasure, it’s filled with a new kind of desperation. “Henry, this isn’t fair.” He was being relentless. His fingers play with her clit and she can feel his heart beat, “This is, this is mean.”

This time Henry groans, “If you’re gonna pretend like all you want is a good fuck, then I have news for you; you’re a bad liar. Do you really think I don’t know? I see it every time you run off from me. I wake up feeling like it’s gonna be the day you tell me you love me and I finally get to say it back. Can you imagine how far you’d run if I said it first? ” His voice is low but his finger still moves. Her hand moves to the back of his neck and her forehead rests on his shoulder, “Not letting me love you? That’s mean.”

She’s overwhelmed in every sense of the word. Her body is hot yet she’s covered in chills. “It’s not that, god…it’s not that simple.” His pulls her closer and inserts two fingers inside her. “Oh my god, we have to go.” Henry smiles against her ear as her hips move forward. His fingers curl and she yelps loudly but his mouth lands on hers to silence it. She has no fight left in her. Her body loosens and their lips press harder together. Henry gets carried away and moves his hand faster. “There’s too many people…Someone will see.”

“No one’s looking at us. Maybe I should make you come right here. If that’s all you think you want from me, I might as well give it to you. That all you want from me? You want me to make you come? Huh?” He can feel her squeeze on his fingers, “I told you, you were a bad liar. Tell me the truth. Tell me what you want.” He moves so that they’re face to face again. “Hmm?”

Y/N clutches his arms and an angry look covers her face. “This is the worst way to get me to tell you I love you.” Henry smiles widely and releases his fingers. She hates how cute that smirk makes him. “What?”

“Gotcha,” He grabs her hand and pulls her away from the corner, through the club and out to the parking lot. He opens the car door for her and rushes to the other side. She can’t believe how fast this moment is passing. He had her up a wall only a few minutes ago and now they’re zooming towards his house.

Henry is still grinning and it further pisses Y/N off, why is he being such an idiot? “What are you smiling about? Where are we going?” He keeps his eyes on the road and continues to shifts gears.

“You told me you loved me and we’re going home to celebrate.” Her mind drifts off and her words from earlier shake her brain. She did it. Fuck, she said it.

Her voice is quiet and confused, “Celebrate?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m fucking crazy for you.” Even with him saying how he feels, she can’t help but think none of it’s real. Henry could be lying, there’s always a chance. “I love you.” There it is, it’s out in the open and Y/N kind of feels dizzy.

She’s not sure what to do, what does she say? Does she say it back? “Um…I, well, me too.” They hit a stop light and Henry cheeky grin falls.

He sighs, “Why won’t you say it? Said it before.” He doesn’t sound annoyed or disappointed, if anything he sounds a happy.

She plays with her fingers as she whispers, “I don’t know.”

He playfully returns the whisper, “Liar

She whispers even lower, “I love you.”

Henry now yells and actually makes her smile, “Baby, I can’t hear you.”

“You heard me.” Y/N shifts in the seat, adjusting her dress.

“Afraid not,” Henry accelerates, taking Y/N by surprise and falling back into the seat.

She sighs in annoyance, “I love you.”

“Good.” She stares at him blankly as his smile returns. She has no idea what else to say at the moment. All she can do his stare at Henry and that cute dimple.

——————

Y/N and Henry sit in his kitchen, her on a bar stool at the island and him at a table in the corner that he’s never actually been used. She fixes herself a glass of water and brings her fingers to her neck, forgetting that there’s no necklace to twirl. “It’s weird not wearing my necklace, weirder seeing it on you.”

Henry pulls the necklace out of his shirt and smirks at her, “Well, maybe if you didn’t run out of here so damn fast you’d still have it.”

Y/N scoffs, “How long you gonna hold that over my head?”

“I won’t, but you can’t pretend that there’s nothing to talk about.” He untucks his shirt and leans back into the chair, “I’m ready for whatever you want to throw at me. Whatever dumb reason it is that you think I’m a liar or using you, throw it at me. I’ll be right here saying the same thing; I love you.”

She groans quietly and looks down at her cup, “Why are you so straight forward?”

“Why aren’t you? You can fuck me like you love me but can’t say it?”

She begins to twirl her cup so she can distract herself from how good he looks, “Henry, don’t be rude to me.”

“It’s true, Y/N,” His eyes narrow and his voice lowers, “why can’t you tell me what you want?”

She takes a sip and taps her nails on the counter, “I want my fucking necklace back.” He smiles and cocks his head to the side. She looks down her dress and smooths it out, “Did I spill it?” Henry shakes his head and bites his lip. “What?”

“Come here,” She sighs before walking over to him and stops just at his knee, allowing him to stoke her skin. “You upset with me?” He looks up at her and gives her a slight pout when she doesn’t answer. His hand moves to the back of her knee and pulls her forward so she falls into a straddling position, “I’m sorry, baby.” He kisses her shoulder and up her throat, “You can have it back but you gotta earn it.”

His hands fall to her backside, pulling her hips to his own. “Earn it?” He knew just what to do to get her worked up.

“Mhmm, I’ll give it back if you tell me what you want.” He nibbles on her skin and she moans. “Pretty little kitty.” His nickname causes her to moan again. “Come on, what ya want?”

Her thighs squeeze around his torso and he closes his eyes, “I want you.” A small chuckle leaves his lips and she really wants to kiss him, she has to.

She tries to kiss him but he playfully dodges it, “I know you want me but that’s not what I want to hear.”

“I want you to want me, I want you to love me.” She brings her forehead to rest on his and he kisses her deeply. Her hands rake through this hair and her hips jolt to his. He bunches the fabric of the dress in his hand, groaning and growing harder.

He hoists her up, her legs wrapping around him as he makes his way to his bedroom. She unbuttons his shirt while he carries her, her mouth leaving small kissing in his neck every few seconds. “’ L‘Show you how much I love you, then I’m gonna do it all over again in the morning. Just fucking wait.” He falls on top of her when he lies her down on the bed, loving the loud of her giggle. He takes off the necklace and places it on the nightstand, “More than earned it.”

Henry takes off his shirt and gets down on his knees, pulling her thighs to the edge of the bed. “Oh,” Her skin erupts with goosebumps as his fingers glide up her leg to pull down her panties.

“May I eat your pussy, with love?” He sings the last words and if she wasn’t so turned on she would hit him on the side of the head.

“Henry, if it proves my love at all, it’s that I don’t mind you saying dorky shit like that.” Both of them smile but Y/N gasps when she feels the warm air on her. He begins to give her small kisses, knowingly teasing and further frustrating her.

He pushes the dress to her waist and locks his arms around her thighs, finally giving her a full lick. “Didn’t know you could get so wet, love.” He continues licking, kissing, and sucking, oh the sucking, on her clit until it gets even more sensitive and swollen. “Such a tasty little cunt, innit?” He sucks on it loudly making her yelp. “And you make the cutest noises.” He licks lightly again but grabs her hands and brings them to her center. “Spread yourself open for me.” She obliges and widens her legs as well. He peppers kisses all over her and watches her contract. “I  love this pussy.” Her legs shake and her hands grab his forearms.

“Oh my god,” Henry smiles into her, she can feel it. He was always so good at this, always so good with his mouth and always a tease.

“That’s my girl,” He then rubs her clit with her own finger and kisses her inner thigh, “I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.” God, why was he like this? His cheek rests on her thigh and two fingers enter her while he continues to use her hand. He knows how to read her; he knows that what she wants: she wants it to be dragged out. She was silent other than her whimpers but that was all he needed. His fingers stop just so he can feel her pulse around them, then he kisses her thigh before curving them just right. Henrys hand leaves hers but orders her, “Don’t stop playing with yourself.” He brings his now free hand to his jeans, unbuttoning them and tugging them down just below his bum.

Henry’s dick had gotten so hard that he had to let it out, he just had to give it a proper squeeze as well. He stands, removing his fingers and making sure to look her in the eye as he licks them clean. He smiles at the fact that she’s still rubbing herself in a little circle. “Take your pants off.”

He smiles again, “Take your dress off.” Both rush out of their remaining clothes and Y/N moves to the head of the bed. He swings his leg over her torso so that he’s directly in her face, “Hands up, open up.” Her arms rise and he grabs hold of them as he enters her mouth. The feeling of her wet mouth is unexplainable. She was always able to get him so deep in this position, he’s forever thankful for that day they googled ‘Fun Sex Positions.’ Her palms lay flat on his chest as he thrusts slowly into her mouth. “mmm, so good at that. Wanna know a secret?” She makes an attempted to nod but fails, “I thought about you sucking me off this morning, had to come all by myself, love.” He pulls himself all the way out of her mouth and drops her hands. The sight of her wiping her mouth is enough to make his dick jump. “I think you owe me one.” He pulls her legs down the bed so she’s flat on her back, smiling when he hovers over her.

“Oh, I owe you one?” He smiles but pretends to be serious.

“Mhmm, so, I think you better stay right here and make it up to me.” Y/N giggles at his dramatics and widens her legs to accept him. He doesn’t enter her right away. He instead flips them over, Y/N now on top of him. “Come on, love. Make it up to me.”

She sinks down on him and leans forward to whisper, “I’m not leaving in the morning.”

[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message or ask!]

@igotkatiepowers  @xxxkatxo  @lunedelorient  @heartfelt-pen​ @omgkatinka​ @viking-raider​ @summersing69 @littlefreya​ 

HAPPY HUMP DAY! I hope everyone enjoys the rest of the week.

[flooffybits]

Red Velvet making up with s/o after their first big fight

Request: Yes

Anon: hello 🥺 may I request red velvet making up after their first bigger fight with ther girlfriend?

Irene:

The fight between you and Joohyun would probably be from all the other things that have just piled up and exploded at that one moment. She’s so used to keeping her emotions bottled up that she didn’t realize just how much she was putting off with you. She had to take her time with the thought of having someone listen to her and for her to be the one depending on them.

So when a little disagreement went out of proportion, Joohyun just snapped. “I don’t need your help, okay?” The tense air slowly diminished as soon as the words fell from her lips and she saw the hurt that flashed in your eyes before her shoulders dropped. “No, wait. That wasn’t what I meant.” She sighed while running her fingers through her hair. She immediately tries to make it up to you as she takes your hand and explains what was really bothering her while also apologizing for taking her frustrations out on you.

“I love you so much, and I just need to get used to all of this.”

Seulgi:

Seulgi doesn’t know what to do other than to cling to you when the two of you had your first fight. She was spending too much time practicing for their comeback and you were trying to tell her that it was fine to keep practicing, but she needed rest too. Her exhaustion turned into frustration before she’s yelling at you without even realizing it.

“I’m just looking out for you!” You reason with her. “I’m not a child, Y/n. Don’t you understand that I have priorities?” She yelled, her head turning to glare at you while you took a step back, obviously caught off guard by her outburst.

The quiet “okay” that left your lips reached her ears and her anger diminshed as she snapped into action. She was holding you within the next five seconds and running her fingers through your hair while muttering quiet apologies, promising again and again that you were her priority above anything else.

Wendy:

You’ve been fussing over Seungwan ever since she was able to get out of the hospital. As soon as she got home, you wouldn’t leave her alone and made sure that she was comfortable, constantly asking her if she needed anything.

At first, Seungwan found it funny with how panicked you looked when you felt like you hurt her, but after a while, it became irritating for her because you kept treating her as though she was a porcelain doll that needed to be constantly taken cared for. She was getting better, so why couldn’t you just let up?

“Y/n, I swear, I’m okay.” She sighed and you stared at her, unsure. It made her irritation rise. “I’m perfectly capable of doing things myself. Can you stop treating me like such a child?” She asked you in an exasperated tone. “I’m just trying to help.” You told her but she only glared more. “Well, I don’t need it. I’ve been doing pretty good on my own, anyway!” She was too in with her emotions that she didn’t even bother when you stopped talking and left her at the dorm.

Overnight, when she’s laying alone in bed, she can feel her sadness seeping out of her and she hates that she doesn’t have you with her. When she checks her phone in hopes of getting a text from you like she has been for the past few hours, she could feel tears finally spilling when she realized that she most probably ruined her relationship. Sighing, she grabbed onto the chair near her bed to lift herself up and then carefully walked out of her room to try and distract herself instead of wallowing in her sorrows.

But when she sees your figure laying on the couch, there was another batch of tears that spilled from her eyes before she’s stumbling to get to you. She ends up collapsing on top of you, effectively waking you from your slumber as she clung onto you and silently cried into your neck.

“I need you. I need you so much, it’s like I can’t breathe when you’re not with me.”

Joy:

The fight with Sooyoung was caused because of how she didn’t shy away when people flirted with her. Of course, you weren’t out to the public, but you just wished that she wouldn’t just let people come up to her and pretend that she wasn’t already in a relationship.

You’ve already brought it up to her, but every time that you do, she goes on the defensive and starts to attack you with a more personal approach. “Why are you acting so jealous? I’m dating you when I could have picked someone better, right?” She knew just how insecure you could be when it came to her job and the people she meets on a daily basis, but to have her say something like that so easily, without a second thought, hurt.

“Then maybe you should pick someone better.” As soon as the words flew from your mouth, Sooyoung’s eyes widened and she was already running after you when you went for the door. Her strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind while burying her face to your back. “Y/n, baby, you know that isn’t what I meant.” She pleaded, refusing to let you go as you struggled in her arms.

But you couldn’t just brush off what she said, which was why you kept fighting back, until she eventually spun you around before cupping your face. “Y/n, look at me, please.” She begged while meeting your eyes. “I love you. No one else, I swear.” She promised before she’s kissing you again and again until you stop struggling in her arms and just slump against her.

She holds you while you sob against her chest, regret filling her heart. “Why did you say that?” You sobbed and she had no idea what to tell you. All she knows is that she wasn’t letting you go for anyone else.

Yeri:

The two of you have never gotten into fights. The most you argue about is when she refuses to go to sleep, claiming that she wanted to be able to talk to you because she would have to leave early the next morning. Her members don’t mind having you over because you were the only one who could keep up with your girlfriend’s energy when she wanted to mess around the dorm and raise hell.

You don’t mind her pranks as they are very harmless, but the one time she ends up ruining the papers for work that you’ve placed on the table, she knows that she screwed up with the way your face showed absolute distress. She tried to play it off as a joke, but when you told her that those papers were really important, she turns the blame on you. “Why did you put it there in the first place? Plus, they’re just papers. You can get a copy.” She questions and you had to stop yourself from yelling at her. “If you actually stopped for a second, you would understand that this isn’t as easy as that. I had to organize all of this just so I could have them done before tomorrow while the rest of the copies are at the company!” You told her while grabbing the papers and doing your best to save them, but the ink was already smudged and you doubted that you would be able to read them.

She knew that this was an important project and she panicked when she saw the look on your face that she wasn’t able to just say sorry instead. But when she saw you head off to try and fix her mess, she quietly followed after you before tugging on your sleeve, a sheepish look on her face as she stared at the floor. “Can I help you with this?” She asked carefully and the guilty expression she wore made your anger melt away as you sighed and nodded your head.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” She whispered and you gave her a reassuring squeeze to tell her that it was okay.

[georgemackayhey]

hi love, first off I wanted to say how much I love your writing! secondly, and idea for a blurb: breaking up with George and meeting him again after a few months/years and maybe going back together? idk I want something angsty

Much love 🤍

Hi nonny dear!!! You're much too kind! Despite having writen something like this before I'm obsessed with the idea so here, have this!

You were together for a while. Long enough to go on holiday with friends but not long enough to meet the parents or anything. During the while you and George had spent the majority of your time together, the thing that weighed so heavily on your bond that it broke, was the time you spent away from each other. With his job, and all the travel, and the way your life had been working out, neither of you had much time for each other.

When George finally got back home, he arrived to the news that he'd been cast in another role that required his presence in an all new country, far from home as ever. And just when you were all eager to tell him about the new path in life you'd been gifted the chance to take. Suddenly all the good news seemed more bitter than sweet. And during the week you and Geogre devoted to spending entirely together, you both slowly came to the realization that that week would be your last. 

It wasn't easy to decide. George kept approaching the subject, but couldn't say the words. You kept pretending to listen but would cast your gaze to the nearest corner, unable to bear the reality of the truth. And finally, after a shared bottle of wine and a long bout of quiet that settled in after the film you were watching faded to black, you cried and called it quits. 

You stayed together that night still, before you gave each other some encouraging parting words, half-heartedly hoping the best for one another. And then you went on your entirely separate ways.

Life was cruel that way. It tore you from the things you thought you wanted more than air. And after a couple of weeks of wallowing in your pity, right when you'd gotten used to being on your own again, you ran into George. He was home for the holidays, out to dinner with his family where you waited to meet friends at the bar. 

It was an utter delight to see him, and he reached to hug you like no time had passed. Just as quickly George introduced you to his folks. You gave them each pleasant and warm greeting before meeting up with your friends at the bar, while his crew shuffled to find a table. 

Back to feeling sorry yourself it was, especially when your friends shot you knowing looks on your walk to meet them as planned. 

Life moved on though. You worked and lived without fighting the flow, and only saw George if a mutual friend dared sneak a snapshot of the fella to post on social media. Years passed just like that. Months of hard work. The occasional tragedy, or miracle throwing you a bit off rhythm. Parties and funerals and holidays and stormy nights.

And then you saw him again. At a resort, in a city neither of you lived in. He shouted your name from across the lobby of a fancy hotel and you abandoned your date to go rushing to George for a hug, his arms already outstretched, welcoming as ever. 

You laughed hard about how you'd ended up in the same place, at the same time, out of all the places and times in the world. And then you floated your separate ways like always. Somehow, beaming and aching in ways you hadn't been before running into the well built, soft-haired guy.

Your date was a little pissed that you'd failed to introduce them to George in the couple of minutes he'd graced you with his presence. You spent that vacation making it up to the date that ended up ghosting you a week after you arrived home.

Life went on like that. Failed dates. Birthdays. Brunch parties, and deadlines. 

And then you saw George again. You'd actually seen him throughout the past year or so, shopping at the same markets, and going out with the same friends. He was always kind, and cared enough to ask after you. 

"You're both absolute idiots." A friend rang, after you'd run into George at the park, and shared a chat before he reluctantly continued his mid-morning run. 

"I'm sorry?" You choked on a small, fauxly offended laugh as you strolled sleepily at your friends side.

"Why don't you just date?" She exasperated. Like the sight of you and George apart personally disgruntled her.

"You know we tried." You pointed. Trying not to let too big a frown pull at your lips. "Isn't it obvious we're better as friends?"

"No." Your friend called back, shooting you a look. She scolded you a bit longer about not letting Geogre get away the next time your paths crossed. You hadn't ever seen it that way. You thought your run ins with George were small bonuses granted on account of your decision to stay apart. You feared approaching the chance of being with him again would only result much like your last and only effort.

And then you saw him again. At that same mutual friend's wedding. The worst occasion. As if you weren't already worked up by the speech your friend had given you, being in the midst of the most romantic setting wasn't going to help you start any kind of conversation with George. 

It was an intimate affair. A backyard ceremony and an in house reception. Foods and wine spread across the roomy, yet quaint ranch style home.

"Here, for you." George was at your side as one slow song faded into another. In his hand, your drink of choice. 

"You didn't have to-" You started to laugh a little at his greeting, an offer you didn’t have reason to refuse.  

"I did actually. It was the last one on the tray and you don't look like you're having any fun. So here." George gently shoved the glass to your chest and lifted his own chute of champagne to toast. You let out a sigh and gave into his very generous demands. 

"How's it you look better every time I see you? Isn't getting older supposed to turn us all grey and sad?" You joked, taking into account Georges tailored suit, the structure of his face, his smile. It hadn't been too long since last you'd seen him across traffic and lifted a hand to wave. But it had been a year or two since last you'd stood close enough to study the loose fit of his tie, and the wave of his hair. 

George rolled his eyes and let his grin grow, before lifting to sip from the drink in his hand. And for a while you stood there like that, trading small talk about life and where it had taken you. And then your dear friend, the bride, the woman of the hour, marched over to meet you and George.

"If anyone dares upstage my wedding, it'd better be you two." She declared, reaching for your wrist, and then George's. "Now get out there and dance together so none of us have to listen to you idiots complain about how you miss each other and wonder what the other one is up to."

You'd barely accounted for the song playing, or the other people pushed close together on the dance floor, as you were flung to join in. Before you could even find your footing, George was pulling you a little closer, out of the way of a great aunt who was only capable of repeating a drunken version of the charleston. 

He placed either of his hands on your waist, as yours found his shoulders, and then you looked right at George, and you realized your friend was right. 

"You still ask everyone how I'm doing?" You wondered in a whisper, peering into George's ocean eyes. He only kept his gaze fixed, and his lip between his teeth, and nodded his head. You were entirely entranced, and one thousand percent at a loss. Where did you turn now? What did you ask? What if what you wanted wasn't the same...

But you didn't have to ask. Because Geogre leaned in, and kissed you like he used too. Like you hadn't stopped sharing kisses since the short time you used too. He held you near, his fingers pressing ever closer. He still smelled like you remembered, so sweet and warm. He still let out a delighted little hum before you parted for air. And George still smiled at you like he used too, like he always did, when you gazed back up to him, unable to hide your blush. 

Maybe no one noticed the pair of you slip out of the party early. Or maybe your friend had been counting on it. Maybe you and George were always meant to be together. Or maybe that time apart wasn't wasted, between all those run in's and hello's throughout the years. Maybe life together would be just as tricky to navigate together as it used to be. But you weren't going to let George get away this time, and he'd promised the same thing, unprompted and often.

[cali-holland]

Heartbreak Weather, Part One- T. H.

Pairing: Tom Holland X Horan!Reader

Prompt: After going through a rough breakup, you lose all hope in love, but your brother Niall Horan insists on getting you back into the world. When you meet his friend Tom Holland, you start to think that maybe your life isn’t just heartbreak weather.

Word Count: 4000

Featured Songs (All by Niall Horan): Heartbreak Weather  -  Nice to Meet Ya  -  Dear Patience  -  No Judgment

Previous Part: Teaser

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

MARCH 2018

“God damn it, let go of the ice cream.” Your older brother huffed, attempting to take the cold dessert from you

“No, leave me alone.” You pouted, refusing to move from your position on the couch.

“You need to get up and off this couch. Come with me to the gala- you already have a dress and everything.” Niall sighed a breath of relief as he finally wrestled the pint of ice cream from your arms.

“I don’t want to go. Leave me to wallow in my own pity.” You groaned, pulling your blanket up over your head.

Just three days ago, you were excited for your older brother to come to London and spend a few weeks with you. You were at school in the bustling English city, and he was usually very busy. Luckily for the two of you, his charity gala for golf lined up perfectly with a break in school; and he invited you to go along with him. You were so eager for that event, and he’s right- you did have everything ready for it, including a red dress you were in love with.

Your mood changed completely when you discovered your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you for over six months with his best friend. Niall’s arrival coincided with the downfall of your relationship. And now, you had no motivation to get off the couch; you simply wanted to be sucked into a void of sad dog movies and ice cream.

“No, you are coming with me to that gala. Think about it- you dumped Eric’s sorry ass and now you’re going to an event that will be flooded with paparazzi. Show him what he’s missing.” Niall said.

“As my brother, I don’t think you’re supposed to say that. I think you’re supposed to be over at his place, beating him the hell up.”

“Oh, trust me, if it was legal, I’d beat the shit out of him.” He stated. “Please, will you come?”

“Fine, but I’m going straight back to this state once it’s all over with.” You replied. You rolled your eyes while he cheered. You stood from the couch and headed to your room to get ready. Niall let out a sigh as he heard you begin to play Sam Smith over the speakers.

“As if she wasn’t sad enough.” He shook his head, before going to your guest room to get ready himself.

~~~

The gala was being held at a fancy hotel in central London, and you felt nerves overcome you as the car came to a stop outside of the entrance. The paparazzi lined the carpet and the fans lined the paparazzi.

“Can I go home yet?” You asked, and Niall gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“Come on, you’ll kill it out there.” He smiled. The car door opened and Niall stepped out with you following along behind him. You two stopped and posed for pictures on the carpet, before you stepped aside to let Niall have his moment.

Making your way inside, you took in the beauty of the ballroom- it definitely looked like a gala rather than a glorified hotel room. Bruno Mars’ Just the Way You Are sounded over the speakers, and you couldn’t help, but feel a sting in your heart. This was your song with your ex; and it still hurt to think about it. Your smile began to drop as you scanned the room, wondering if Niall had made it in through another entrance. Your eyes fell upon a brunette boy across the room. Almost instantly, his brown eyes found yours and he smiled. You felt your lips curve into a genuine smile back at the stranger. Something about him felt familiar to you, but between the crowded room and the surprisingly bad lighting, you couldn’t place him.

“Y/N,” Niall’s voice caught your attention, pulling you away from the stranger’s captivating stare. “Come on, we gotta get seated.” He led you over to your table, which had name cards placed on them.

“Who are we sitting with?” You asked, wondering if he would know, as you two sat down.

“My buddy, Tom, should be with us.” Niall stated.

“Tom as in-” Before you could finish your question, a loud British voice sounded from behind the two of you.

“Niall! It’s been ages!” The voice exclaimed, pulling your brother into a hug. As Niall pulled away, you felt your eyes widen with surprise as you were met with the face of Tom Holland in front of you- a.k.a. the brunette stranger from not even five minutes ago.

“Tom! How have you been?” Niall smiled.

“I’ve been great. I’ve been here for a few weeks, but I go back to filming in a couple days.” He replied, just as cheery.

“I’m on a break right now. We gotta get together before you leave and play a few rounds.” Your brother eagerly replied, “There’s this great golf course by Y/N’s place.” Niall caught himself as he looked down to you awkwardly sitting there at the table.

“Hi, I’m Tom.” Tom smiled, holding out a hand for you to shake.

“Y/N, Niall’s sister. The one that lives near a golf course apparently.” You joked, shaking his hand. Niall sat down and Tom took the seat beside you, effectively trapping you between the two.

“Y/N, do you still play?” Niall asked you.

“Not often, but I bet I can still beat you.”

“Really? You’re even better than Niall?” Tom inquired.

“Surprised I’m better than him?”

“Considering he’s the only person who’s beaten me every single time, I’d say I’m more intrigued and intimidated.”

“I’ll come play some holes with you two, then we’ll see.” You laughed.

The gala’s host made his way onto the stage and the three of you fell into a comfortable silence with the rest of the audience. Dinner was served shortly afterwards and there was a flow of conversation between the three of you.

“Oh, there’s Rory. I need to go say hi.” Niall stood up, once he finished his meal and spotted his friend at another table. He immediately went over to Rory, striking up a conversation with him.

“He’s such a social butterfly. Everywhere he goes, he knows someone.” You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“I bet the fans get crazy with him, don’t they?” Tom asked.

“Ni gets spotted a lot less now that he’s got his brunette hair back. I’ve always liked it better natural than blond.” You stated. Before Tom could speak up again, you got a text notification. Though the contact was missing you knew exactly who it was, sending you a ‘I screwed up. Please, let’s work this out’ text.

“Uh, sorry, I just- I have to go.” You said, standing up from the table and avoiding looking at Tom. This whole night, you hadn’t thought about your ex at all; you were so captivated by Tom.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Tom asked, standing as well.

“Nothing, I just can’t be here right now.” You replied as your voice cracked through your words. With phone and purse in hand, you rushed out to the empty hallway and sat against the wall, letting your tears freely flow. You were crying so hard that you barely registered Tom sitting beside you and putting an arm over your shoulders to comfort you. As you steadied your sobs, you began to speak.

“Have you ever felt like your whole life’s been heartbreak after heartbreak; it’s always heartbreak weather at this point. I dated my ex for two years, and he cheated on me for months. And now he wants to get back together?” 

“I’m sorry.” Tom said, “If he’s stupid enough to cheat on you, then he doesn’t deserve you. You’re incredible, and that’s coming from someone who’s only known you a few hours.”

“I’ve spent every day of the past two years devoted to him, and now I have nothing. I wasted so much time on him. I should’ve known he wasn’t the one. Niall warned me all that time ago that he wasn’t good enough.” Your voice was soft as you spoke. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been through this before.” Tom paused, thinking of how to lighten the mood, “Do you want to get out of here? We can go get some real food- this vegetarian stuff isn’t cutting it for me.”

“I look like shit now.” You said, wiping under your eyes in an attempt to fix your mascara that was bound to be all over your face.

“You look amazing. Come on,” Tom stood up and held out a hand out to you. You took it and he helped you stand.

“I don’t want to confront Niall, not now. I’ll just text him.” You stated.

“Just make sure he knows you’re safe.” He replied, leading you out the back exit as he called for his car. You pulled out your phone and texted Niall: ‘Went to go get actual dinner with Tom. I’ll see you tonight’.

You and Tom got dinner from a drive through and ended up taking it back to your place. Your shoes were both abandoned by the door, and Tom’s jacket laid on the back of a chair with his tie hanging loosely from his neck. He rolled up the white sleeves of his suit, giving him better access to chicken wings.

“This has got to be the best post-gala idea.” Tom laughed, taking a bite of the chicken wing, trying his best not to make a mess as you did the same.

“Absolutely.” You agreed. “I should have probably changed out of this dress though.”

“At least it’s red?” He offered.

“That does nothing to hide a chicken wing stain.” You teased.

“Just trying to be helpful.” He laughed.

After you finished up eating, Tom searched for something on Netflix while you changed into more comfortable clothes- a tight fighting dress was not the move for a night in.

“Do you want to watch anything specifically?” Tom called out to you from the living as you made your way into the kitchen, in search of some wine.

“How about a comedy?” You replied, “Do you want some wine?”

“Sure.” You grabbed two glasses and an unopened bottle, taking them into the other room. You set them on the coffee table and took a seat beside Tom on the couch.

“The Hangover?” Tom asked, and you let out a laugh, pouring out the wine.

“I love that movie.” You said, handing him a glass as he hit play.

“I’m not normally a big wine guy, but this is good.” He stated, surprised after the first sip.

“My ex may be a shithead, but he’s got great taste in wine. This was one of his most expensive bottles. I took this from his place about a week ago.”

“Damn, you might as well take his wine.” Tom joked. “I wouldn’t have expected you to like wine.”

“What did you expect me to like? Beer like Niall?”

“Yeah, actually.” He laughed.

“Don’t worry, I can hold my own with beer as well.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as the movie played. At some point during the film, you shifted and placed your head on his shoulder, leaning into him. It didn’t take long for you to drift off to sleep.

You began to wake up when you heard a door shutting, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, too content with your peaceful sleep. You were only vaguely aware of two voices.

“Tom, you’re still here?” Niall asked, his voice at a regular volume.

“She’s sleeping.” Tom replied in a hushed tone.

“Oh,” He said, recognition coming over him as he saw your position. He glanced over and saw the wine, knowing exactly how you ended up in there.

“Yeah, we got dinner and watched the Hangover.” Tom explained quietly.

“Here, I’ll take her to her room.” Niall moved over towards you in an attempt to free Tom from his position.

“I’m up now, you dickheads.” You mumbled, keeping your eyes closed.

“You gotta get up or else Tom can’t move.” Your brother stated. You let out a groan before opening your eyes. Your eyes widened in confusion as you realized your head was fully on Tom’s lap, not at all on his shoulder like you last remembered.

“My bad.” You said, sitting up and giving Tom the opportunity to move freely once again.

“You’re fine, love.” Tom replied with a smile.

“Well, I’m going to get a shower. I kind of got champagne all over me.” Niall laughed, before heading off to the guest room.

“How long was I out?” You asked, slowly standing from the couch to clear the wine bottle and glasses from the table.

“I don’t know. I think the movie finished a couple hours ago?” Tom replied.

“A couple hours? Tom, you could have woken me up.” You said.

“You just looked so peaceful, like you really needed the sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you. When the movie finished, I moved your head so your neck wouldn’t be sore.” He explained. His words just about made you blush, thinking that he spent his whole night caring about your wellbeing.

“You’re sweet, you know that?” You smiled, leading him to the front door.

“Thank you for everything, Tom. I had a great night.” You admitted as you walked him to his car.

“I had a great time too.” He replied.

“Good night, Tom.” You said, stepping away from him.

“Good night, Y/N.” Tom got into his car as you walked back inside your apartment.

“So, you and Tom, huh?” Niall asked the moment you got inside, his hair still wet from his shower.

“Piss off.” You shook your head at him and ducked into your room. That night, you drifted off to sleep with thoughts of the next time you’d see Tom floating around in your head.

~~~

The next day, you woke up to the smell of Niall making breakfast. Sure, he could easily get his own place in London, but him staying at your place meant you two got to see each other more. By the time you made your way to the kitchen, he was already eating his portion and drinking his morning cup of coffee.

“Morning.” You smiled, helping yourself to the rest of the food.

“Did you sleep well?” Niall asked almost teasingly.

“Yeah actually. Best night’s sleep I’ve gotten in a while.” You replied, avoiding eye contact with him, knowing exactly where he was going.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain British lad now, would it?” 

“I don’t know. Did Louis say something?” You teased back, sitting down at the table across from him. He rolled his eyes and playfully scoffed.

“Well, if it has nothing to do with Tom, then good.” Niall stated as you began to eat your breakfast.

“Good?”

“I wouldn’t want it to be awkward or anything. We’re going golfing today, and you’re coming with us.” He smiled before clearing his plate of food.

“I’m sorry, what?” You laughed awkwardly because yes, it would be strange having to see Tom again so soon. 

“Golf. Eleven o’clock.” Niall clarified, before getting up from the table and clearing away his dishes.

“What if I don’t want to go golfing?” You asked.

“Oh come on, like you’d want to pass up the opportunity to beat me.”

He left the room in silence, leaving you to finish eating alone. You sighed, picking up your phone to flick through Instagram while you ate. Like every other day, you had to go through your follow requests. Being the younger sister of Niall Horan meant that a lot of fans tried following you for the past several years, but you wanted to maintain some privacy and kept your page hidden from the public. The fans still attempted to follow you though; you couldn’t exactly tell your brother he couldn’t follow you, and so they easily found it.

You paused your scrolling when you saw a verified mark. The little notification read, “tomholland2013 wants to follow you”. You let out a small laugh before accepting it and following him back- another one of your Instagram habits, you didn’t follow many celebrities besides the One Direction boys. You finished your scrolling and then went through the rest of your morning routine of checking out new posts and viewing stories. As you went to view the new stories, you saw Tom had just posted one. When you clicked on it, you didn’t think you’d be so surprised by it, but boy, were you surprised.

You weren’t sure what kind of stories Tom posted, but you definitely felt like a shirtless, sweaty gym video was an unusual story for him. You laughed, shaking your head. Sure, you had heard about the actor being incredibly ripped, but you never really thought about it in detail. And after that video, you were sure you would think about his muscles a lot more.

You decided that was enough of Instagram for now- you didn’t want to stumble into anymore thirst traps right then. Besides, it was time to get ready for golf with Niall and Tom.

A few hours later, you and Niall pulled up to a golf course on the outskirts of town, and you met Tom inside with his own set of clubs. You couldn’t help but blush when you saw him in his tight polo, especially now that you know exactly what his abs look like under there. He greeted you and Niall with a smile, and you tried to ignore the fact that his stare lingered on you.

“Who’s ready to play?” Niall asked, pulling you away from your thoughts as the three of you headed over to the golf carts.

“Are you ready to lose?” You quipped back, making Tom laugh as you all placed your clubs in the backseat of the cart.

“When’s the last time you played?” Your brother questioned.

“Like a year ago.” You replied.

“I might put my money on Niall winning then.” Tom joked, “He’s been playing weekly.”

“Hey, I had to practice weekly so I could beat Y/N next time we play together.” Niall stated.

“Just sounds like you’ve got no life.” You teased.

As expected, you won the overall game as Niall placed second behind you. He swore that you were cheating somehow. The three of you decided to go down to a nearby pub for lunch, and, also as expected, your brother ran off to the bar for drinks, leaving you and Tom alone.

“So, I see you found me on Instagram.” You said, teasingly, “How long did it take for you to try to find me?”

“Took me longer to decide if I wanted to actually request you or not.” Tom laughed, “I didn’t want to come off creepy, especially because your account is private.”

“It wasn’t creepy.” You laughed as well, “I have to say though, the gym video was a nice touch. A minute after I followed you too.”

“That happened to just be a coincidence.” He said as he began to actually blush at the call-out.

“Oh, I bet it was.” You teased.

“Is there any way I can get your number? I leave tomorrow for filming, but I’d like to stay in touch with you.” Tom asked, his voice sounded nervous. You were a bit surprised by his forwardness, but you already knew your answer.

“Yeah,” You replied and both of you reached to take out your phones. Swapping phones, you both added your numbers. You smiled, seeing his lock screen- a picture of a dog. You asked, “Is this your dog?”

“That’s my Tessa. She’s such a sweetheart.” Tom said, smiling as he looked at the picture fondly.

“She’s adorable.”

“Maybe you can meet her one day. She loves meeting new people.” Before you could even try to reply, Niall came back, pulling the two of you back into reality.

“I forgot I was driving.” Niall told you sheepishly and you laughed.

“I can drive, don’t worry.” You laughed.

You two parted ways from Tom, wishing him a safe journey to the states. The car was filled with a strange silence between you and your brother until he finally spoke up.

“Am I allowed to ask about you and Tom again?” Niall asked anyway.

“I gave him my number, but we’re just friends.” You said with a small sigh. “I dated Eric for two years. Up until last week, I thought he was the one, but then he broke my heart. He was unfaithful to me for months and-”

“Tom’s not Eric.” Niall spoke up calmly, “I know you’re afraid of rushing into things with Tom, and that’s fine- take it slow and be patient. You don’t even need to date him. I know Tom though, and he would never do to you what Eric did to you. Tom’s a good man. I never liked Eric; there was always something wrong about it. I thought he was using you to get to me sometimes-”

“Way to sound vain.” You quipped.

“My point is,” He emphasized, “I don’t let just any of my guy friends hang out with my baby sister, and I especially don’t leave you in social situations with them. Eric was a dick. I know you’re probably worried that the whole distance thing won’t work with Tom; maybe it will, maybe it won’t, I don’t know.” “Where are you going with this?” You sighed as you pulled up to your place, parking the car.

“What I’m trying to say is just give Tom a chance. Be friends with him, get to know him, maybe date him. Just don’t shut him out because of what Eric did. Don’t let Eric have that power over your life anymore. Don’t let him make you scared of dating or of even being friends with a guy. Alright?” Niall asked.

“Yeah, I get it. Thanks for the whole pep talk.” You said, getting out of the car with Niall right behind you.

“Besides, if you two date and he breaks your heart, then I’ll go beat him up for you. The press will love that one.”

“Oh yippee.” You playfully rolled your eyes at his antics. As awful as his pep talk was, he was right overall- you couldn’t let your past with Eric dictate your future with Tom. You were headed for some sunny skies, away from the heartbreak weather that clouded your past.

~~~

Part Two   Part Three   Part Four

[snusbandxknifewife]

Sticky ficky 7!

Have some Oak angst, some Vivi angst, and some Cardan angst feat. Bomb help! I actually made myself sad with this one so I hope y’all enjoy it!

~~~~~~~

Dear High King Uncle Cardan Sir,

It is with a heavy heart that I write to inform you I can no longer engage in correspondence with you, nor can I continue to be your sticky hand supplier. While my alliances were with you throughout this long and trying war, I cannot side with you anymore, given the recent turn of events.

I don’t know what happened with Jude, or why she’s staying in our guest room, but I do know that she suffers. When she saw my green sticky hand in the living room her first night here, she broke down sobbing.

Uncle Cardan, I confess I have never seen my sister cry.

So I send this letter to inform you that I have washed my hands of The Great Sticky Hand War, as I now wash my hands of you. I wanted to be friends, but I must stand by my sister now, as I know she would stand by me.

Why did you have to hurt her?

With disdain,

Oak

Little Oak closed his thesaurus and put down his mechanical pencil, handing the letter to Vivi to proofread. Vivienne Duarte, for her part, had no idea why Oak had decided to stake his honor upon something as trivial as a sticky hand, but she dutifully read over his letter, correcting any spelling mistakes before sealing it in an envelope and promising to send it to Faerie.

If Oak was to become High King one day, he would need to learn diplomacy, this was as good a place as any to start.

So Vivi watched with raised brows as Oak gathered up all his sticky hand memorabilia, his collection and the propaganda posters he’d made for the war, and threw it in the trash without a second glance. His bottom lip wavered and tears seemed ready to spill from his eyes.

Vivi took him out for pizza that night, leaving Jude alone in her room, crying like usual.

~~~~~~

Two weeks had passed since the night Vivi took Oak for pizza, and while she had been confused then, she was now severely worried.

Jude Duarte was a shell of a person. She’d get up to go to the bathroom, but she had yet to take a shower or even brush her hair. She barely ate, and what she ate was anything but nutritious. She denied herself water to the point that her head pounded, and only then would she sneak into her sister’s supply of alcohol, leaving her to wake the next day with a headache already formed.

Vivi didn’t know what the hell to do. She couldn’t handled a normal breakup, one where her sister cried if a certain song came on or because her boyfriend had cheated on her. But how was she supposed to handle a newlywed, exiled from her home and throne? Especially when even the thought of a sticky hand or nerf gun sent her over the edge?

Honestly, Vivi didn’t know what kind of set up those two had had when Jude was still in Elfhame, and she didn’t ever intend to learn. The likelihood of some weird sex thing being involved was way too high for her to even consider asking, not when she already shuddered every time she passed a sticky hand in the toy aisle of the local Dollar Tree.

“Jude?” Vivi called out, knocking on the doorframe of her guest room and staring into the darkness, towards the pile of covers that shielded her sister from the rest of society. “I ordered Chinese food, it should be here in forty-five minutes. I made sure to get sweet and sour chicken, I know it’s your favorite!”

Her fake upbeat tone echoed back to her, but Jude refused to move. With a heavy sigh, Vivi walked forward and sat on the edge of her sister’s bed.

The girl looked like a ghost, her eyes staring blankly ahead and her cheeks stained with tears.

“Jude, honey, you know I love you,” she sighed, patting Jude’s hip. “But you smell like a dumpster. Please come shower in my bathroom.”

Jude, her mouth covered by her duvet, mumbled something Vivi couldn’t understand. Then, after prompting, she spoke again.

“Need help,” she whispered, the most pitiful noise Vivienne had ever heard in her—admittedly short—life. Jude Duarte, asking for help? Fuck.

She decided not to say anything, opting to just pull down the blankets and allow Jude to use her shoulders as support to sit up.

Jude’s time in the Undersea had been tough on her body, and her wallowing in the mortal world had worked overtime to rob her of whatever muscle and fat she had left. Starving oneself and laying in bed at all hours of the day was a terrible recovery strategy, but Vivienne couldn’t really bring herself to berate her sister.

Jude leaned heavily against her sister’s side and together they stumbled through the hall and into Vivi’s bathroom.

Vivi turned on the water, ready to leave to give Jude some privacy, and stopped when she saw the way her sister’s fingers shook. She knew then and there that Jude wouldn’t be able to undress herself, so she did it for her.

Just like when they were children, after Madoc had murdered their parents and spirited them away to Faerie, Vivienne Duarte helped her sister out of her clothes. When they were little, Vivi had been in charge of bathing the twins and helping with their hair. It’s been years since she’s had to do this, but she put Jude in the shower and washed her hair as the young woman sat, face first in the blasting water.

Vivi grit her teeth in anger as she took in the poking bones and concave stomach of her little sister, the girl who had always been full-figured and strong. Her body, her tenacity, her will to live, all taken from her so quickly. Jude Duarte looked broken as Vivi washed her hair, pulling fingers through tangles that had long formed into clumps the size of her palm.

Jude should’ve been safe, she should’ve been ruling in Elfhame, where food and wine abounded and excess was the name of the game. She shouldn’t be wasting away to nothing in a world she never claimed as her own. Cardan, who, by Vivi’s own observation, cared for Jude, should’ve known what banishment would do to her.

No matter what happened, no matter why she’d angered him, he should’ve never banished her. Not then, not so soon after she’d been tortured.

Vivi helped Jude out of the shower and helped her dress before steering her towards the living room, where Oak was waiting with the Chinese food, Teen Titans playing on the old tv.

Vivi took her food into her room and sat down with a pencil and paper.

Cardan Greenbriar, you worm-eaten husk of a man,

I don’t care who you are or what you are, I don’t care about curses or crowns or kingdoms or fate, I care about family. And, right now, mine is hurting. Fix things with my sister, or, so help me gods, you’ll be fucking mincemeat.

Sincerely,

Vivienne Duarte

The paper ripped in some places she was pushing so hard, but she figured that would help get the message across.

She sent it directly to the High King of Elfhame.

~~~~

The scent of smoke hung thick in the air of the unnaturally quiet room. The birds outside the open window knew to stay silent as the man on the floor threw a second crumpled up paper into the crackling fire.

The High King of Elfhame’s rooms were in shambles; furniture broken in rage, tapestries form down by hands with nails bitten down to the quick, books toppled from precarious places on overfilled shelves.

One man, the king himself, sat in the center of the carnage, his back pressed to the foot of his grand bed and his legs stretched out towards the fire roaring in the corner of his bedchamber.

His eyes were wide but unseeing, tears cutting ragged trails through the dirt smudged across his cheeks and his hands shaking in his lap. His tail, freed from his breeches, was the only part of him smart enough to try and hide from the flames. It stuck out behind him like a sore thumb, cowering under the bed in a way that he wished he was small enough to do.

What had he done to his Jude?

He’d thought for sure she would’ve put two and two together, would’ve figured out his riddle. She’d already announced herself to be the High Queen if Elfhame, all she had to do was say she pardoned herself!

He’d considered that maybe she had been to tired from her ordeal the day of her banishment to decode his words, but he was positive she would’ve been recovered enough to come back and claim her throne by now.

His Jude, his darling god, should’ve been by his side already.

When he’d received Oak’s letter a fortnight ago, his very heart, as scabrous and small as it may be, had felt like it was ripped from his chest. His nephew, his only family left—save his mother—so recently introduced and so quickly ripped away from him. He had to admit that one day Oak would make a fantastic diplomat, he was already capable of getting his point across with scathingly few words.

But when he’d gotten Vivienne’s letter, that’s when he began to realize he’d truly fucked up.

His head pounded and his stomach was in knots as he wondered what had happened to his wife in the past two weeks, what had warranted such strong words from his sister-in-law and former friend. Was Jude sick? Had she hurt herself? Was she refusing to eat?

Would she recover? He couldn’t even begin to picture a world where Jude didn’t recover, where she wasn’t fighting tooth and nail to better herself, where she wasn’t the powerhouse he always saw her as.

Deep down in his heart he knew that he’d done the one thing that all the torture in the Undersea wasn’t able to do: he’d broken his wife’s spirit.

He’d never forgive himself.

“Your Majesty!”

Cardan didn’t so much as blink as the Bomb screamed, entering the disaster of her king’s rooms and likely expecting to find his dead body on the floor.

When she saw the fire, she gasped in horror and grabbed Cardan by the shoulders, throwing him as far away from the fire as she was capable of.

The fire had reached halfway up the wall and was dangerously close to engulfing the bookshelf closest to the window. Anyone with a brain knew that, if she left to get buckets of water, the whole room would be up in flames by the time she returned. So, she made the executive decision to sacrifice his duvet—the duvet that he’d pulled up over his sleeping wife only two weeks and a day prior.

She threw the duvet over the fire and began to stomp on it, her thick rubber-soled boots making a hollow THUNK every time she brought her foot down.

When the fire finally stopped trying to fight back and the room was full of cloying black smoke, she pulled the remains of the duvet up.

And it stuck to the floor.

The Bomb furrowed her brow in confusion and pulled harder, bracing her feet against the stone floor and yanking with all her might until the duvet finally gave up and she went flying backwards, landing harshly on her butt with the ruined duvet in her hands.

The underside of the duvet was covered in black scorch marks and some strange, multicolored substance that she can’t quite place.

But Cardan knows what it is, and he reached for the duvet; his fingers running through the molten hot rubbery liquid, tears springing to his eyes once more.

“Your Majesty?” Bomb’s voice was quiet, confused as she watched the boy king spread boiling hot goop between his nimble fingers.

“I couldn’t look at them anymore,” he whispered back and Bomb put two and two together.

He’d started the fire to melt all his sticky hands. The gifts from his nephew, the game he’d played for weeks with Jude. All up in flames in the blink of an eye.

“Why hasn’t she come back?”

Bomb winced, reaching to try and pull his hand back. She could see boils starting to form on his fingers and she knew that if she didn’t get the melted sticky hand off him soon, his skin would burn so badly that it fell off.

“If you were her, would you?” Bomb asked, succeeding in grabbing his hand and worrying at her bottom lip as she saw the blood red burn marks on his hand.

He ripped his hand back from her, forcing her to look him in the eye, to see the wild devotion in his face and the desperation dripping from each tear.

“I’d always come back for Jude. Do you understand that?” He sounded ragged, broken and robbed of comfort. “Always. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of going after her, Liliver. Please, you must know that. You have to know that.”

The Bomb had never seen anything like this, not from Cardan, not from another faerie, not from anyone. This kind of pure, unrestrained pain reached out from every facet of the king’s being and grabbed her heart with a grip of cold iron, throttling her as she watched him suffer.

“Liliver I did it for her! Everything I did was for her, she has to know that. She can’t not know that!” He’d reached the point of sobbing, his burned hand hanging limply at his chest and starting to well blood from where the burns broke his skin.

“They would’ve killed her, Liliver, we both know it!” Cardan’s voice cracked and he folded over himself. “You saw what she looked like, she was wasting away! No mortal should ever be that thin, Liliver, certainly not Jude!”

“Your Majesty, please.” Bomb didn’t know what to do beyond grab his injured hand once more. She pulled him to his feet and hauled him over to the bathing chamber, but he stopped in the doorway. He refused to go in, refused to hard that brambles grew over the entrance and stopped the Bomb from trying again.

So she moved him to his desk and she sat him down. It took about a half an hour of work, but she was able to pull the ruined sticky hand mash off his hand, burned skin and blood falling away with every movement. The whole time he sobbed, he lamented, he worried. Cardan Greenbriar, High King of Elfhame, told her every word from the two letters he’d received because he’d memorized them both in his pain. He told her of his fears for his wife and he asked for her advice and she didn’t know what to tell him.

She didn’t know what she would’ve done if she’d been Jude and Van had been Cardan. She didn’t know how to come back from a betrayal like that.

“Write back,” she finally offered as she bound his hand. Around them ash was still falling and his room was still a disaster, but at least Cardan seemed to have recovered some of his composure; sewn together just like his ruined hand. “Write Jude, tell her what you meant. You can’t leave Faerie to go get her, not with Madoc on the prowl, but that doesn’t mean you can’t speak to her in your own way.”

He froze, his hand throbbing against the confines of his bandages as he looked at the Bomb. She was right. She was seldom wrong.

Liliver figured that she wouldn’t get his dismissal, not with the way his gaze had gone so distant so suddenly, so she excused herself. She arranged for the rest of the Court of Shadows to clean his rooms, ensuring that she was the one cleaning his bedchamber.

She watched as he wrote and wrote and wrote and she said nothing, not that he would’ve heard her anyway. He was way too far in his own head.

She found herself grabbing his jacket off the floor—no doubt thrown in a fit of anger earlier during the night—and she found herself walking towards his closet.

Cardan Greenbriar hadn’t gone into his closet since that night, his wedding night. Not since he’d been with his wife, his darling.

So it was Liliver who found the discarded blue sticky hand with the broken ring finger, the only sticky hand saved from the great sticky hand fire.

She didn’t even think as she grabbed it and hid it in her trouser pocket, slyfooting away and out into the hall. She didn’t think as she snuck into a back tunnel and worked her way up to the room that Jude had kept as Seneschal. She didn’t think as she opened Jude’s bedside drawer.

And when she was met with a pink glittery sticky hand, she smiled. When she set the blue hand next to the pink one, she thought that maybe, just maybe, these two would have a chance.

She hoped they’d have a chance.

~~~~~~~

Hope y’all don’t hate me yikes lol

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell

[sunqyu]

Nova gets her shit together paaaart 1.

alright, so this post is mostly for myself to hold myself accountable a little more than just writing in my journal and not looking at it again for weeeks. there’s two things I want to do, first up I want to start getting more structure in my life and second I want to make actual friends. this is part 1, I’m going to write out where I’m at right now with these things, what has worked in the past and specific things I can do.

Structure

so my adhd-butt may be high functioning towards the outer world but the older I get the more the lack of structure is getting to me. one week I’m miss productivity with workouts, meditation, journaling, studies and my job galore and the next week I just sit in my own stress and anxiety too paralyzed by the pressure I put on myself to do anything at all. how to fix?

the things that have worked in the past were writing to-do lists per day and starting with max. 2 things on it, building up to 5 but never exceeding 5. if I have time left I can obviously do more but I shouldn’t feel bad if I spend the rest of the day chilling. why has this gone wrong before? probably because I either still felt bad when not doing anything, or because I simply couldn’t get myself to write a list every day or (and this is the important one) I was too strict on myself so I’d write down way too much to do, only leading to me doing none of the things I wrote down. how do I prevent this from happening? the first full week, I can only write down two things and I HAVE TO be proud of myself if I do both of them. I mean, with a history of perfect to-do lists without result, I really should be proud of doing two things a day for an entire week. another thing with this one is picking it up again when I miss a day because one day missed shouldn’t ruin the entire process of learning the habit.

now, a funny thing that is already happening in my brain as I type this is ‘oh we should work out every evening too so we have the energy to do the things’ and ‘we should journal everyday as well to keep up with our mood as we do these things’, ‘we have to meditate at the end of everyday to truly relax’ etc. etc. and FUCK that’s not how it works Nova, seriously. this whole all or nothing sh’bang doesn’t work and it’s my biggest downfall with these things. it’s okay if relaxing is just watching youtube vids, or whatever it is you want to do. you don’t have to be miss productivity-guru within one day. just get the basics right first and don’t rush. I repeat DO NOT FRICKING RUSH. Stop and smell the flowers, because you want to, not because it fits this dumb image you’ve created in your mind that you’re trying to live up to.

alrighty next.

Friendships

you’ve never been in a fight, you’ve never had anyone tell you they don’t like you and STILL YOU’RE INSECURE AS FUCK ABOUT YOUR PERSONALITY? why? why would anyone hate you if you give them literally no reason to? if you just lock yourself in your room after appearing to be a very social person? stop pretending to be this super social happy person and let people know that you’re lonely as fuck. how are they going to know you want to get closer to them if all they get from you is how happy you are and no initiative to meet up? take initiative!

I know that’s terrifying. I know. but the more you do it the less scary it gets. the only reason you’re this scared is because you’ve never tried it. you’ve created this comfortzone in your head about how scary everything is as an excuse to be lazy and not take initiative, only to wallow in self pity about not having friends. when it’s you!

the most difficult parts about this is 1. when you’re talking to people all you’re thinking about is how to act instead of listening and opening up, you’re never going to connect to people like that and 2. you SUCK at checking up on people regularly. sometimes you don’t text the people you love most for like two weeks. now this might be because of your ADHD but you shouldn’t use that as an excuse not to do anything about it. what are we going to do about it?

first up, show initiative. scary but just do it. small steps first so you’ll realize that people don’t find you annoying for asking how they are. if the conversation dies down, no big deal, sometimes people are busy or they don’t know what to talk about either. those awkward moments are necessary to connect with someone more than surface level. also, 9/10 you’re the one who replies slowly and that’s not with ill-intent. why would it be the other way around?

the second thing is finding a way to be consistent and work around the whole ‘out of sight, out of mind’-frickery. maybe set an alarm? once a day? where you just go over all your texts and make sure to reply to all of them. no matter how lame your reply. let people know you want to talk to them and you appreciate reaching out to them? setting an alarm to text your friends definitely isn’t very normal and organic but fuck it, if that’s what you need to do to get back into the groove of things. once you make a friend it’ll be a lot easier because things you see will remind you of them faster.

Overview for this week

so, for structure we write down two things on a to-do list every single evening, nothing more, nothing less. don’t get sad if you forget, be proud when you don’t. don’t ask more from yourself than those two things (I mean it! don’t you dare!). set an alarm every day to text people. even if you haven’t spoken to them in a while, just do it! maybe they want to talk just as much but they’re afraid you don’t want to. someone has to start, why not let it be you?

[thepandapopo]

A Step Through Time Chapter 2: Context

I'm trying something different.

My previous chapter was written in active voice because I generally prefer writing like that (more engaging, easier to write etc. ), but I wanted to practice writing in passive voice as well. I've read so many fics lately where authors write in past tense and passive voice and it's absolutely AMAZING, and I wish i could do that too. Thus, I've decided that any Felix centric chapters I write will all be in active since he's technically from the future so present tense is as close as I can get, and any Sylvain centric chaps will be written in passive voice/past tense since it's in 'the past'. ish. kinda.

Pairing: Sylvain x Felix

Synopsis:

In which Sylvain wallows in his self hatred before Felix comes to provide him context.

OR

The one where Sylvain is so incredibly dense and Felix has to all but spell it out for him.

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Fatherhood suited Felix.

But then again, Sylvain thought absently to himself, he always knew that it would. Although Felix put up an exterior that was colder than the frigid Faerghus winters, he was always patient and gentle with children; never hesitating to unwearyingly pass down his swordsmanship if asked.

Sylvain had always loved children, but the problem was that he did not love women. At least, not in the way that was needed to be able to actually form a healthy relationship and conceive a child. Years of being pressured with talks of marriage proposals and being clinically ogled by women who only saw him for his crest had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Not to mention he would never want his child to be shackled with the burden of a crest in this world. A crest wasn’t a status of nobility like everyone believed. No, it was a death sentence given shortly after birth.

He would be lying though, if he said that he had never imagined a faceless red haired child running into his arms with gleeful shouts of ‘Daddy!’ ringing off the halls of the Gautier estate.

But Felix. Felix had never cared about crests. No, Felix had always liked Sylvain for Sylvain. The youngest Fraldarius had always had a knack for stripping away the red head’s carefully constructed masks, peeling them away with his eyes like they were paper thin and nothing more than a slight hindrance, piercing down to his very core and laying bare everything that Sylvain was. And even when he stripped away all the beautiful lies and cover ups and only the gross ugly truth of who Sylvain Jose Gautier remained… even then, Felix never turned away from him.

Future Felix was… different.

Sylvain wouldn’t necessarily say that Future Felix was purposely ignoring him, but he was most definitely going out of his way to avoid interacting with the Gautier. Even now, as Sylvain stood partially obscured by the shadow of one of the monastery pillars watching the older swordsman sit patiently while his daughter – Sophia Gabriella Fraldarius, was how Future Felix introduced her - gleefully weaved an impressive assortment of wildflowers into his long midnight hair, Sylvain felt a tightness in his chest.

Although Sylvain entertained the idea of one day siring a child, he would give up that dream in a heartbeat for the chance to spend the rest of life with Felix.

He wanted Felix, or he wanted no one.

But Sophie… little Sophie was proof that Felix did not feel the same.

Goddess. He had taken lances to the stomach, and even been nearly burned alive by a Bolganone spell, but none of those could compare to the pain of having his deepest hope undeniably ripped away from him.

“Sylvain.”

He nearly gave himself whiplash with how quickly he swiveled to face the newcomer behind him.

“Oh hey, Professor! Didn’t see you there.”

“Are you spying on Future Felix and Sophie?”  Her mint eyes fixed on him in a cool, calm manner just daring him to lie to her.

“Ahaha…” he scratched the back of his head. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, you’re hiding in the shadows.”

“Professor! I am wounded that you doubt me so.” He clutched his chest dramatically.

Although he knew that his puppy eyes never worked on his former teacher, years of carefully fabricated masks made it second nature and he felt his face contort into a sad pout before his mind could catch up.

Maybe this was why Felix ended up marrying someone else.

How could he ever want someone as fake and broken as Sylvain?

“Sylvain.”

“Professor, I swear I was just passing by and momentarily paused to see what they were doing.” Not a complete lie; Technically Sylvain had just been passing through the courtyard when he spotted Future Felix casually sitting on the grass, carefully watching Sophie as she went digging through the wilder patches of vegetation that had been ignored while they restored the rest of the monastery, on a hunt for any kinds of flowers she could get her hands on.

Except that was close to ten minutes ago and he most definitely was spying now.

Byleth looked at him with an expression that he could only describe as torn between complete skepticism and sympathy.

“Very well, if you insist.” Sylvain felt his shoulders sag with relief. “I will see you at our roundtable strategy meeting this afternoon?” She turned to leave but turned her head towards him waiting for his answer.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Byleth nodded her farewell and Sylvain watched as her overcoat fluttered in her wake. He would have to be more careful around her – the last thing he wanted was for her to invite him to a tea party so that she could grill him on why he was so distracted lately.

It wasn’t his fault that the presence of a certain child was making him act out of sorts.

“Sylvie!”

Speaking of.

Sylvain turned and smiled down at Sophie who was grinning at him. In her grubby little hands, she held out a drooping orange pansy.

“Oh, is this for me?” Sylvain kneeled down so that he was eye level with Sophie and reached out to accept the flower. Before he could wrap his much larger hand around the delicate stem, she quickly retracted her hand.

“For you! In your hair like Papa.”

The bright orange would look washed out in his own brightly colored hair, but he could not bring himself to care and bent his head to allow Sophie better access. When she was finished, she gave his head a little pat of satisfaction and he winked at her. “Does it make me look pretty?”

“Sylvie is always pretty! But not as pretty as Papa.”

“Oh, is that so?” From the corner of his eye, Sylvain watched as Future Felix approached and plastered on the most convincing casual grin he could muster. “Well, I suppose I cannot argue with that. Your Papa is very pretty after all. Probably the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

“Insufferable as always.” Felix rolled his eyes and settled against the stone pillar next to him. The words were familiarly harsh, but the lack of bite behind it made it seem odd.

Ignoring the nervous coil in his gut, Sylvain turned his attention back to the little Fraldarius child. “He looks especially pretty with all the flowers. You did such a wonderful job, Sophie!”

Goddess, current Felix was already strikingly handsome, but Future Felix was in a whole other league. While he normally kept his hair up in a long ponytail, today he decided to wear it down in a braid that cascaded over one shoulder, tumbling in a waterfall of ink ending just slightly below his chest. The stark contrast of the bright flowers in his hair served as a glaring reminder that this Felix was much softer and settled in his own skin than his Felix was.

Silence descended on the pair as Sophie dashed back into the tall grass to pick more flowers ‘to make Sylvie a crown’.

“So…”

“You don’t have to talk, you know.” Sylvain let out a nervous chuckle. At least the future Felix was still blunt and straight to the point.

“Sorry. Nervous habit.”

“…I know.”

Of course, he did. Felix could always read him like an open book; though whether that was from a literal lifetime of friendship or if it was because he was the only one to actually take the time to get to know Sylvain as a person was entirely up for debate.

It took an embarrassingly long time for Sylvain to calm his heartbeat, but after he had managed to wrangle his growing attraction to the future version of his crush, Sylvain had to admit that the quiet companionship was…nice. Not that he would ever say that aloud – given his reputation of putting his foot in his mouth whenever it came to Felix, Sylvain was one hundred percent sure that he would somehow mess things up even more, leading to the Future Felix avoiding him even more than he was already.

He didn’t want Felix to avoid him. Either Felix. But ever since Sophie showed up, his Felix began drawing away and sequestering himself even more than usual.

“…Just spit it out already.”

“What?”

To anyone else, they would have described the look that Felix had on his face as exasperated, but Sylvain knew better. Though he lacked the rigid set of his shoulders that he was used to seeing in his Felix, his crossed arms and cock of the hip was the same as always – closed off from the world like he couldn’t care les. However, the liquid molten amber of his eyes was enough to show that he was willing to wait for as long as it took Sylvain to share.

“Silence doesn’t suit you,” Felix snorted. “No matter how many times I tell you to shut up, you never seem to take my advice. The only time you actually stop blathering on is when you have something you want to say but you’re too scared to do it.”

Suddenly Sylvain wished that Future Felix would go back to avoiding him.

“Sorry. I just-“

“Sylvain.”

Backed into a corner, Sylvain blurted out the one thing that had made a permanent home in his mind ever since he had laid eyes on their time travelling guest.

“I like your hair like this. Long, I mean.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. “It suits you.”

For a moment, Felix looked at him with an inscrutable look – almost like he was sizing him up while also trying to supress some unknown emotion.

After a brief pause, the only response that Sylvain received was a short but amused, “I know.”

Sylvain felt his eyebrow rise in surprise. “You know? What does that mean?”

“Someone told me that they preferred me with long hair. So, I decided to grow it out.”

“Seriously?” Felix had once chewed him out for simply suggesting that he buy an pair of fancier boots for formal functions, so the idea that he would grow out the one thing he took pride in his appearance for someone else was, for lack of a better word, complete bullshit. “You’re growing out your hair because someone told you they preferred you with long hair? I know for a fact that it annoys you if it grows past your shoulders and you never really cared for other’s opinions, so what’s the real reason?”

Felix shrugged, dislodging a white daisy in the process and sending it tumbling down before he caught it and returned it to its rightful place. “Believe what you will. You know I don’t lie.”

It was true. In all their years as friends, Felix had never once lied to Sylvain; not even when he was spitting mad at him for jumping into danger headfirst or missing training for a date with another nameless girl.

Whoever said it, they clearly had a lot of sway in Felix’s opinion. Which meant that they must be extremely close to him; close enough that he – oh.

“Did your…” Fuck why was his throat so dry all of a sudden? “Did your wife tell you that?”

Of all the responses that he had expected to receive, a violent choke and spluttering was not one of them.

“My what? Goddess, no.” Felix clutched his chest as he wheezed and glared at Sylvain with exasperation. “Don’t be stupid.”

“What’s so stupid about that? It’s a pretty solid guess, in my opinion.” Sylvain willed his voice to stay light and aloof even while his heart was twisting and doing flip flops in his chest. “You’d only listen to someone who you really cared about, and seeing as you’re married-“ he jabbed a finger at the glittering onyx band, “-I assume that your significant other would be the only one who could possibly influence your appearance choices.”

Everything in Sylvain’s body screamed at him to drop the subject and run away as fast as possible, but his curiosity made him stay even though his chest felt like Raphael had dropped one of his large training boulders on him. Distantly, a part of Sylvain’s mind wondered that he might possibly be a masochist.

“You…” Felix frowned at him and straightened to face Sylvain fully. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Tilting his head, Sylvain felt his brows scrunch up even as the question left his lips. “Know what?”

Clearly, he had missed a memo and was very interested in remedying that.

“Shit, I know you told me but I didn’t really think that it was true. There was no way it could be true.” The hand adorned with his wedding band came up to scrub down his eyes. It was odd seeing Future Felix look this uncertain; for a guy who had literally lived the present day already, it was strange that something could cause him to look so conflicted.

“Sylvain, you’ve never once gotten me to come with you to ‘pick up girls’, so what on earth makes you think I have a wife?”

“Uh. I don’t know, maybe your wedding band?!”

“Sylvain. I don’t like women.”

Yeah well, neither did Sylvain, but that was neither here nor there.

“You don’t need to like women to get married and have a kid.” Felix couldn’t argue with that. Sylvain was literally the poster boy for a noble trapped in a life of obligation to his crest. “Which you clearly do.” To prove his point, Sylvain jerked his thumb over towards where Sophie was still digging through the dirt and pulling out flowers by the bunches, adding them to the already overflowing mismatched bouquet in her other hand.

Felix’s hand twitched and Sylvain had the vaguest feeling that the man was trying his best not to stab him.

“No, Sylvain.” Uh oh. There was that tone again. “I don’t like women. At all.”

“Yeah, Fe. I get it. Women are awful.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why can’t you just understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Because you’re not telling me anything to help me understand! Give me context, or something.” Sylvain threw his hands up in the air in frustration. Clearly Felix did not learn to improve his communication in his extra twelve years of existence.

“Fine.” Felix groused. “You want context? I’ll give you context. Sophie!”

At the mention of her name, Sophie perked up from her place in the tall grass and hurried to scramble over, trampling some poor flowers and quite a large number of weeds in the process.

“Yes, Papa?” There are smears of dirt on her face and grass stains streaked across her dress, but despite it all, Sylvain thought that she still looked as radiant as ever. Of course, that was a given since any child of Felix’s was bound to be beautiful.

“Do you remember what I told you before about not mentioning that word?” Felix kneeled and tucked a loose crimson lock back in place.

Sophie nodded.

“I’m going to ask you a question that I want you to answer. Don’t worry about breaking the promise, okay? It’s fine to mention it just this once.”

“Okay, Papa.”

Felix’s gaze locked on Sylvain’s and he could literally feel the weight and purpose behind his stare.

He wanted context? Felix was more than happy to deliver.

“Sophie, can you tell Sylvie where you got your sword?”

Sword? What in Fodlan did a sword have anything to do with -

“It was a gift from Papa and Daddy!”

Sylvain’s thoughts screech to a halt.

Papa and…Daddy?

Sylvain. I don’t like women.

I don’t like women. At all.

For the second time today, Sylvain had half a mind to feel embarrassed at how slowly he put the pieces together; only managing to gape at Felix who looks half relieved that Sylvain finally, finally understands, but also half apprehensive.

Holy shit.

Felix fucking Fraldarius was gay.

[halsteadbrothersfanfics]

  All Better?

Will had known from the age of six that he'd grow up to be a doctor. He could pinpoint the exact moment the idea was planted in his head. It was one of his fondest memories and never failed to make him smile. Sometimes, when he was stressed, or sad Will would think back on it and almost immediately feel better. Guess childhood memories had that effect.

 Reaching out with his hand to tightly grip Jay's, Will let out a shuddering breath. Tears blurred his vision as he tried to recall those memories up now. Anything to help reconcile the image of his brother's prone and broken body laying before him. Anything to help drown out the continuous beeping of the heart monitor in the corner. He supposed that it should grant him a small amount of comfort but unfortunately all it did was remind how much of a failure he was as a brother.

 So instead, he imagined the beeping turning into the sound of Jay's laughter, echoing down the hallway of their childhood home. His small and unsteady feet trying their hardest to keep up with Will as they ran around the furniture.

 At the respective ages of five and two, both brothers were bundles of boundless energy. Unfortunately for Jay, he hadn't quite developed the fine motor functions required to weave his way around all the furniture and toys without bumping into something. Will could still remember the exact feeling of horror he had, when upon turning around to gloat victoriously from atop the couch, he saw Jay trip over the edge of the rug and smack the ground with a loud thud.

 Jay went chin first, sliding a few inches across the carpet. Both boys were silent for a few seconds before Jay's face scrunched up in pain and he let out a loud wail. Will frantically slid off the couch and ran towards Jay, praying their father wouldn't wake up. He had just gotten home from a graveyard shift a few hours ago and was supposed to be watching them while their mother was at a doctor's appointment, but as soon as the door had closed behind her, their father had rounded on Will. The instructions had been clear. 

 "You are responsible for Jay and you will under no circumstances, wake me before my alarm goes off."

 Panicking slightly, Will pulled Jay onto his lap as best he could. Jay was clutching his chin with a hand and sobbing, his face red with anger. Gently Will pulled Jay's hand away from his chin, frowning at the rug burn. 

 "It's ok," Will said confidently. "I can make it better, but you have to be big like me and not cry. We don't want daddy to wake up. Can you be big like me?" Will asked.

 Jay smashed his lips together tightly to keep from crying, chin quivering. He ended up looking more grumpy than brave but Will wasn't about to mention it. Slowly they stood up, Will grabbing Jay's hand and pulling him towards the bathroom. 

 With great determination Will managed to help Jay climb up and sit on the edge of the tub, just like their mama did when she cleaned up Will's scrapes and cuts. Giving Jay a quick kiss on the head, Will climbed up onto the counter, grabbing all the necessary items before sliding back down onto the floor. 

 "You're doing a good job," Will reminded Jay when he started to sniffle again. "Don't worry, it'll be all better soon."

 Will opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol and tried to carefully pour it on the rag he held. Unfortunately it ended up spilling more onto the floor than the rag. Jay giggled slightly at the mess, laughing harder when Will stuck his tongue out at him. It was nice to hear Jay laugh, knowing he was the one that made him feel better.

 "Be brave," Will said. "This is going to sting but then you get a bandaid. We even have blue ones." Holding the bandaids out for Jay, Will took advantage of the distraction they provided, and quickly dabbed the rag across Jay's rug burn, praising him so he wouldn't start crying again. Once that was done Will blew gently across the wound until it dried and applied a blue bandaid. He examined his handy work for a second before adding a bunch more, just in case.

 "All bedder?" Jay asked, staring wide eyed up at Will when he was finally done.

 "Mmhmm, all better." Will confirmed with a nod of satisfaction. Mama would be proud of him right now. "C'mon let's go get some popcorn and watch tv." 

 Will smiled slightly to himself at the memory. Their mother had come home an hour later to find them cuddled up on the couch watching cartoons and shoving their faces with popcorn. He had been so proud of himself that day and any other time he'd needed to patch Jay up. His younger brother had been a bit of a wild child, always getting himself hurt trying to do dangerous things.

 After that day though, Jay wanted to do everything Will did, looking up to Will like he was a hero. Will wished he could have lived up to Jay's expectations, been the hero he needed. He didn't feel like a hero much right now, he just felt like a failure. 

 "It's not your fault." Connor's voice sounded from the doorway. 

 "You don't know what you're talking about." Will snapped back, purposely refusing to look at the other man. His grip on Jay's hand tightened when he heard Connor make his way into the room, standing at the edge of the bed.

 "I do actually, because no matter how hard you try you can't control someone else's actions. You didn't make your father push Jay down a flight of steps, just like you didn't make Jay go over there."

 Snarling in anger, Will whipped around to glare at Connor. "Don't you dare try and blame Jay for this. I should have known something would happen and stopped it, that's my job as his brother. I'm supposed to protect him."

 Connor held his hands up placatingly, "I'm not blaming him and I'm not blaming you, no matter how much you think you deserve it. You had no idea something like this could happen. Your father, the one who pushed him, didn't even know. It was pure bad luck Jay fell the way he did."

 Will shook his head, "Doesn't change anything, I knew that one day our dad would go too far." He turned back to face Jay. "Dad was already pissed that he was being moved into a new place, I shouldn't have let Jay go help him alone. I can't make this better. I can't fix the fact that our father almost killed him."

 "I know I'm not going to be able to change your mind on that but I'm sure as hell, that your brother is going to be pissed when he wakes up and sees you like this." Connor forced Will to look at him. "You can't go back in time and stop this from happening, but if you want to help your brother then you can stop wallowing in self guilt. The only thing that can come from that is hurting yourself and Jay because lord knows, he is exactly like you. He sees you suffering and he will feel just as guilty as you do now and he sure as hell doesn't need that extra stress."

 Connor didn't want to be mean to Will right now but no one was doing anything and he couldn't just sit back and allow Will to self destruct. They may have their arguments but Will was still his friend and what else are friends for, then to be there, lending a helping hand to pull you back onto your feet when you need it most. Right now, Will definitely needed that hand.

As much as Will wanted to argue that he should be suffering alone with Jay, he knew Connnor was right. Jay would spot his guilt from a mile away and ignore his own health just to ease Will's suffering. They were too much alike for comfort sometimes. "I need him to be alright." 

 "He will be," Connor said confidently, even though he knew better. "He is already showing remarkable improvement from when he was brought in. The swelling around his brain has reduced to a comfortable enough level for them to remove the drain later tonight. You might be stubborn as hell but I'm pretty sure Jay has you trumped there. No way in hell he'll let this take him out."

 Will let out a weak laugh. "Your right. That pains me to say, by the way."

"I generally am," Connor said, feeling slightly better now that Will seemed to be coming out of his funk. "I'll be back to check up on both of you later." He gave Will a comforting pat on the back before making his way out of the room, stopping when he heard Will call his name.

 "Thank you," Will said. "I needed to hear that." Connor nodded his head, leaving as quietly as he arrived.

 Will turned back to his brother, focusing all his attention on the injured man. He leaned in, whispering in Jay's ear, "I promise you that no matter what happens, I'm always going to be there for you. I know I wasn't there for you after I left for college but I'll never leave you again. You just have to come back to me." Will choked out the last sentence, bowing his head in prayer. 

 A few hours passed until Jay was taken to have the drain removed. Will stood in the hallway watching them take his little brother away. He knew it would be a while before they returned so he found a spot where his co-workers couldn't find him easily. Natalie had been eyeing him with great concern and he knew she wanted to talk to him but right now he just needed a moment alone, to gather his thoughts before Jay came back. Finding an empty room to hole up in, Will sunk down with his head between his knees, allowing his mind to wander to better times again. A time when he had been there to protect Jay.

 Will had never been one for violence, that was more Jay's area, even for someone who came from Canary Ville. Sure, he knew how to throw a swing or two but he'd rather avoid it if he could. Unfortunately it was something the bullies in his grade had noticed rather quickly. They'd throw a punch once or twice, maybe say some rude things, but it never really bothered him that much. Most of it never even phased him enough for more than a passing thought.

 Jay on the other hand took great offense to it when he found out, which wasn't until his freshman year and Will's senior year. It was just dumb luck Will had been walking by when he was close enough to hear Jay confront one of his bullies. Now Jay, unlike his older brother, loved to get into fights. He might not have been large in size, his growth spurt came a little late in the height department, but he didn't take shit from anybody and loved to have a chance to prove himself. So of course when he decided to take care of the people messing with his older brother he had to confront the largest one of the bunch. A large jock who looked like he might be taking steroids.

 Will had heard Jay's yelp as he went sprawling to the ground, struggling to stand back up when the jock's foot kicked him in the side. He went back down to the ground, wind knocked out of him. Will's entire body seemed to burn with anger and all he could think about was beating the living hell out of the asshole attacking his brother. At the time he was unaware that Jay had started the fight, not that it would have mattered, and simply assumed the jock had decided that Jay was an easy target like his brother.

 "Hey!" Will shouted, dropping his things and running towards the fight. 

 "Well would you look at this, your brother wants a beating too." The jock smirked down at Jay, completely ignoring Will. The smile was knocked off his face when Will spun him around delivering a swift punch to the nose. The bully  howled and stumbled back, surprised that the other male had actually hit him and that it hurt so much. "You bastard! You're going to pay for that!"

 "Fuck you," Will yelled, hitting him with an upper cut in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of him. As the jock gasped for air, Will quickly punched him in the kidney and his body spasmed for a second. Blinded with anger, Will hit him again and again screaming obscenities, until someone was pulling him away.

 "Will! Stop!" Jay yelled, pulling his brother away from the whimpering mess on the ground. 

Will panted heavily for a second, taking a moment to catch his breath, before noticing the large crowd that had gathered around them. 

"We gotta go before a teacher shows up," Jay urged, continuing to tug on his older brother's arm. Will allowed himself to be pulled away from glaring at the writhing mess on the ground. "That was so cool, I knew you could take him."

  Will groaned at his little brother. "Did you plan this?" He wouldn't put it past the little brat, Jay was surprisingly conniving when he wanted to be. 

 "Of course not," Jay said with a smirk. "We should probably skip the rest of the day. I doubt he'll rat on you but it might be better not to test it." 

 Will chose not to respond but allowed Jay to lead him off campus. He watched as Jay chatted on about how cool Will was, his smile bright as could be even though he was obviously going to have a nasty black eye tomorrow, if not within the next few hours. Jay bruised easily, their mother said it was because his skin was so pale. 

 They made their way to a nearby park to sit down for a few minutes, while Will examined Jay's head. "Why did he go after you?" Will finally asked. 

  "Well," Jay started sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "I might have started it."

 "Seriously? C'mon man you're like half his size, why would you do that?" Will asked, feeling frustrated.

"Because he's an ass to you! He can't just treat you like that, someone had to stop him."

Jay yelled, quick to defend himself. He might have miscalculated his abilities but Will showed up and everything had been fine, better than fine. "You kicked his ass, Will. Why were you letting him mess with you if you didn't have too?"

 "Because it doesn't bother me and despite what dad says, fighting isn't the answer to everything." Will flopped onto his back on the grass once he was sure Jay was going to be fine. "Besides. I got lucky. I surprised him and knew enough anatomy to know where to hit him. Probably got lucky hitting the right spots too."

 Cocking his head to the side, Jay looked curiously at his brother. "What do you mean? What's anatomy got to do with punching a dude."

 "Hit a guy in the solar plexus you knock the breath out of them, hit them on the kidney it will kinda paralysis them with pain. At least that's what I got from the book." Will looked over at Jay staring at him in awe. "Don't give me that look, it's also really dangerous. You can seriously hurt someone and I shouldn't have done it. So don't go trying it on someone, you little maniac."

 Jay smiled innocently, "Who me? I would never."

 "You're a menace," Will groaned.

"I know but I'll always have you to make it all better," Jay replied with a cheeky grin.

  The door to the room he was in opened, distracting Will from the memory.  He looked up to see Natalie standing in the doorway, silently asking to join him. Sighing, he waved her in, patting the spot next to him.

"I'm going to be ok," Will informed her. "Just needed some time to get myself together." 

"I know." Natalie sat down next to him, reaching over to hold his hand tightly. "But if you need someone to lean on, I'm here. You might have to be strong for Jay but you don't have to be for me." 

 Will gave her a watery smile, clutching her hand tighter in his. "Thank you. I might have to take you up on that when Jay starts driving me up the wall about getting back to work."

They laughed with each other before falling into a comfortable silence. Natalie broke the quiet, "They wrapped everything up a few minutes ago, they should be bringing Jay out soon. All the scans are looking good so far."

 "Do you think I'll have to tell him what happened?" Will asked suddenly.

 Natalie faltered for a moment before giving Will a weak smile. "You might have too, or someone else could do it. Connor or I, maybe Voight?" 

 "Lord, no. Not Voight." Will shuddered. As much as Voight might care about his team, gently breaking bad news to someone was never going to be something Will could imagine him doing. Although, being a cop probably required it fairly often so he might actually be good at it. Still though, this was Will's job. "I should be the one to tell him."

 "Ok." Natalie stood up, offering a hand to help pull Will up. "Should probably get back there, wouldn't want to miss your spot next to his bed. I hear it's the most wanted seat in the hospital right now."

 Laughing, Will allowed Natalie to help him to his feet. "His team only dreams they could have that spot, I'm almost certain I nearly grew roots there earlier." 

 The two laughed together as they made their way back to Jay's room. Seeing his brother already back in the room, Will quickly made his way to the chair beside him and grabbed his hand again. He heard Natalie get a call for an incoming trauma, so he settled down as comfortably as possible to wait out the time until Jay woke up. A few visitors came by, mostly the intelligence unit, but other than that Will was left alone with his thoughts until he finally fell asleep. 

 A sharp painful yank came from Will's scalp causing him to swat the air. "Stop." The tugging continued, growing incessantly more annoying every time. Whining, Will swatted the air again in an attempt to make it stop.

 "Willll, oh Willll, wake up you weirdo." Jay's voice slurred. 

Will shot straight up at the sound of his brother's voice, quickly remembering where he was. "Jay! Oh, thank god."  

 Jay smiled dopely up at his brother. "They gave me the good drugs."

 Will had trouble keeping his laughter at bay watching Jay act so completely out of character. "I can tell, you seem like you've been awake for awhile."

 "Yup," Jay continued to smile brightly, even though he was obviously falling asleep already. "I told'em no, good drugs, but they said yes, good drugs. You think Voight is gonna be mad they gave me drugs." Jay started speaking in a whisper. "Drugs are bad."

Will couldn't keep the smile off his face, just so happy Jay seemed to be completely fine mentally. He bent his head giving the back of Jay's hand a kiss, ignoring the whines about cooties, thanking every deity out there that Jay was ok. 

 "Get some more sleep," Will ordered, noticing Jay struggling to keep his eyes open. 

 Jay nodded sleepily, "Everything's going to be all better?"

 "Yeah, everything's going to be all better," Will promised, brushing Jay's hair gently out of his face as the younger male drifted off to sleep. If there was one thing he'd learned thinking back on his past, it was that he may not always be there to prevent Jay from getting hurt, but he sure as hell would be there after. He would never abandon Jay when he needed Will, because after all, what else are big brothers for?