#my current PT's are the only ones that ever treated me like a person and they always kept trying...but they've given up too

[flintbian]

Man, life is just depressing right now

[cupcaketeddybehr]

when your credit card declines pt. 2

featuring: gojo, geto, and sukuna!!! sorry the storylines are all so drastically different LOL i made gojo's a meet cute 😅 also i've never written for sukuna before so i really hope you guys like it!

here's part 2 as promised! thank you so much to the lovely lovely @luvxoxo for the request!! ILYSM!!

for anyone who has a request/just wants to chat, my ask box is open!! (please please please please send me requests)

tags! <3 : @itawifeyy

Gojo

you sigh as you peer through the pastry display case at your favorite cafe. you came as soon as you got off work, but it doesn’t seem like you came early enough. with fifteen people in front of you, you’re sure that the three boxes of kikufuku, your favorite sweet treat, are going to disappear by the time it’s your turn. after dealing with annoying, entitled clients for the entire day, this brings your mood to a new all time low. unsure of what you’re going to end up ordering, you stay in the line, hoping that some kikufuku will be magically left by the tine you get to the front.

the man behind you doesn’t make waiting in the line any easier. either talking to himself or talking to someone who barely responds to him, he’s talking at a volume that’s making your ears ring. you have no choice but to listen as he excitedly gushes about the progress of his students at whatever school he teaches at. you assume that it’s the nearby jujutsu school you used to attend as a child. you feel the gusts of wind his exaggerated hand movements create on your neck. eventually, one of them end up accidentally smacking the side of your head. you turn around to yell at whoever's behind you when you make eye contact with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. you take in his expressive blue eyes and perfectly styled white hair. you’re wondering how he looks this good after a long day of work.

you two stare at each other a bit until the black-haired man next to him, who you assume is his friend (weird because you haven’t heard him talk the whole time), smacks him and hisses, “satoru, apologize”

satoru blinks and says, “oops, sorry, i didn’t mean to hit you,” still not breaking eye contact.

all anger suddenly leaving your body, you shake your head, “it’s okay” you stare at him a little longer, both of you waiting for the other person to say something. when neither of you do, you turn back around, a bit disappointed. maybe you were being delusional.

you drag your feet as the line in front of you gets shorter. you hear people shoving each other behind you, and you hold back a giggle.

“shut up, suguru”

you hear the two shove each other back and forth, careful not to hit you or anyone else with their antics.

when you get to the front of the line, you look into the display case again to look at the leftover kikufuku. to your disappointment (but not your surprise), there are none. turning to the cashier, you ask, “do you have any more of that?” as you point to the empty platter labeled “kikufuku”

she shakes her head, “sorry, all we have left are kikufuku pre-orders”

you frown, continuing to look at the display case, hoping to find something worth buying.

“you can have some of mine” satoru says from behind you. he looks at the cashier and asks her to bring his pre-order out from the back.

“no, it’s really okay i-“ you stop mid-sentence as you see the cashier come out of the kitchen with more kikufuku boxes than you can count. you can’t even see the top of her head. you look at suguru, who has his hand over his eyes, embarrassed. “i take it back.”

satoru laughs, “you can have a box!”

“ONE BOX? YOU HAVE SEVENTY”

“BECAUSE I PREORDERED”

you huff, ‘i guess… thank you, satoru”

he beams at the sound of his name, nods, and goes to look at the other pastries, asking suguru if he wants anything. currently, his eyes are only on the sweets in the bakery.

you take a glance at him as the cashier asks you to swipe your card for the box of kikufuku. you fish for your card in your wallet and then tap it on the machine.

“sorry, could you swipe that again?” the cashier asks. you panic and wonder how much money you have left in your account.

satoru suddenly looks away from the pastries and looks at you, “why are you paying?”

you’re confused, “i’m buying the box? if you don’t want me to anymore its fi-“

he steps beside you, asks the cashier to add a few more other sweet treats, and tells her to add your tab to his. “do you want anything else?”

“why are you being so nice to me?”

“maybe i want to take you out on a date” he says. “also- i never got your name”

“yes! uh- i mean, i’d love to” you grin, “and my name’s y/n”

he smiles and dumps the seventy boxes of kikufuku and bag of pastries on his friend. “suguru, hold this.”

grumbling, suguru takes the boxes and bag as satoru pulls out his phone.

“can i have your number?”

you nod, taking his phone and typing in your number and name with a little heart next to it.

“wanna come with me to this kikufuku shop tomorrow? i haven’t tried it yet” he asks.

“didn’t you just buy seventy boxes?”

suguru peeks out from behind the boxes, “he’ll be done with these by tomorrow.”

Geto

you walk through kyoto’s don quijote superstore with your boyfriend, suguru, on the phone. wandering the aisles searching for cheap peripera and romand lip oils and glosses, you can’t help but notice how shiny suguru’s hair looks through the screen. you swear that it’s reflecting light, sheen glistening as he moves around the house.

“sugu?” you begin, “did you change your haircare routine?”

he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, “noooooooo”

you gasp, betrayed. “you changed it and you didn’t tell me? is that why your hair looks so much better than mine right now?”

he doesn’t even try to argue that your hair is on equal footing, “maybe” he says, as he looks anywhere but you.

you glare at him through your phone, “we literally share the same hair care products. what have you been using?”

“i have a secret stash that i take out when you’re not looking” he sheepishly admits. “satoru told me that your hair looked better than mine the other day.”

you sigh, knowing how suguru is when it comes to his hair. “really, sugu? you’re letting your hair come between us?” you pout, jokingly. his entire ego relies on the appearance of his long black locks.

he laughs, “sorry, angel, my hair and i have a special relationship”

you roll your eyes, knowing that he would buzz his hair off if it meant saving you from a life or death situation. but that was the condition. you had to be on your deathbed. “can you at least tell me what products you’re using?” you beg.

“i use ten different products.”

“WHAT. you must be joking.”

he walks up the stairs and pans his phone camera to the stash of haircare products he’s apparently been keeping under the bed. your eyes widen as you spot every single one of the ten products. among them are hairbrushes, hair oils, dry shampoos, combs, and hair ties (the fancy spiral ones that don’t leave dents).

“why do i feel like this is the equivalent of you cheating on me”

he laughs, “baby, you’re being dramatic.”

“suguru. remind me which one of us keeps a secret stash of hair care products under the bed because he’s too scared to be tied for best hair?”

he clicks his tongue, “fine… i’ll help you find the products. but not all ten”

“why can’t i just use yours?”

“they’re mine.” he says possessively. “but i promise to help you find some.”

you grumble as he gives you step by step directions to the shampoo and conditioner aisle. apparently, he knows the way to the hair care aisle by heart.

when you flip the camera over, he points to the viral &honey shampoo and conditioner. “get that, angel. it’s a really good brand”

you two spend about thirty minutes picking out hair oils and hair masks before you’ve just about had it. “suguuuuu this is too much work” you whine.

he laughs and starts walking towards your garage. “i’ll be there in ten, okay?”

he arrives exactly ten minutes later and you take on a mindless, drone-like state, letting your boyfriend do all the work for you. you watch him as he squints at the labels of all the hair care products, making sure that they either contain or don’t contain a bunch of ingredients you can’t pronounce.

when it’s time to check out, you’re walking hand in hand to the cashier when he starts massaging his temples, “shit, i forgot the new tsubaki hair mask i wanted. i’ll be right back, okay angel?”

“okay sugu! get me one too!”

after looking at the ten person line, you decide that you might as well queue to save time. apparently, people move faster than you thought, because you’re at the front of the line with everything on the conveyor belt. you feel like your parent just left you at the cashier.

panicking, you glance behind you at the long line of people. no way you’re getting back in that. you decide to just tell suguru to come back another day for the hair masks. you double check the total and swipe your pink credit card on the machine.

“i’m sorry, could you try that again?” the cashier asks. you look at the screen and pray that the bold “DECLINED” message is just an error. when you go to swipe again, your card is snatched out of your hand before it’s even halfway to the machine.

“sorry i took so long, angel. i had to fight people for the last two hair masks.” suguru explains. “also- didn’t i tell you to call me whenever you’re buying something? you shouldn’t have to spend your money on anything.”

you breathe a sigh of relief, “usually, i would offer to pay… but i think i’m broke”

suguru stifles his laugh, “remind me to transfer money to your account when we get home, baby.”

you giggle and kiss him, “you’re the best!”

a week later, your hair starts looking a little shinier than his and the cycle begins again.

Sukuna

after admiring sukuna’s tattoos for months, you’ve finally psyched yourself up enough to get one.

you hold his bicep still as you color around his black markings with sharpie while he’s quietly eating his extremely rare-cooked (was it even cooked? you have no idea) steak. “kuna? what tattoo do you think i should get?” you ask as you hand him your phone.

he scrolls through your “tattoo” pinterest board with a look of distate. “these wouldn’t suit you, brat”

you frown as you glance at the pins he’s looking at. you had been hoping to get a cute little studio ghibli linework tattoo on your arm. “why not? I think they’re really cute.”

“something else would look better. those look weak and pathetic.”

you start to get annoyed when he takes a sharpie from your pile and takes hold of your arm. “kuna… what are you doing?”

“drawing your tattoo, obviously” he grumbles. he seems to be annoyed at the fact that you consulted pinterest before him.

the pen strokes on your arm lull you to sleep as sukuna draws all over your forearm, elbow, and bicep.

thirty minutes later, he flicks your forehead to wake you up. “i’m done, brat”

you yawn groggily as you take in the masterpiece on your arm. it’s an entire sleeve of beautifully drawn flowers.

“kuna… this is beautiful.”

“i know” he says, “it suits you.”

you grin at him, “awww thank you, kuna”

he nods, “you can look up the meanings of the flowers later.”

MEANINGS? your boyfriend knows the meanings of flowers? you know that he gardens, but you didn’t know that he loved flowers this much. “i love you so much! you’re so cute!” you squeal while you throw your arms around his neck.

“ditto… and don’t call me cute.”

you tug on his hand and pull him to the car, “let’s go!”

before you know it, you’ve been laying down on the tattoo bench for almost two hours. the piece is huge, and you’re sure that you’re going to be here until they close. sukuna sits beside you, brushing his long nails through your hair and squeezing your free hand with his other hand every time you wince.

at some point, tears are falling down your face. sukuna yells at the tattoo artist to get out while he wipes the tears from your face and kisses your forehead repeatedly. “you can do it, just a little bit more. it’s going to look so pretty on you”

you nod, squeezing his pointer and middle fingers with your hand.

when the tattoo artist walks back in, sukuna shoots him a glare before returning to his original position. an hour later, he’s stroked your hair so much that you’ve fallen asleep.

when the tattoo artist pokes your shoulder to wake you up, you take a moment to admire the beautiful spread of flowers on your arm. as you turn to tell your boyfriend, you realize that he’s fast asleep on the chair. now that you’re looking at him, you have no idea how he fit into that chair to begin with.

you quietly make your way to the counter to pay, trying not to wake sukuna. when you pull your credit card out of your wallet, it somehow suddenly goes flying right into sukuna’s hand.

he walks towards you , running a hand through his hair. “WOMAN. how many times have i told you that you’re not allowed to pay for anything in this relationship?” he snips, inserting his platinum american express card into the slot.

“oops”

“whatever, just don’t pull something like that again. i ordered you a credit card linked to my account. it’s coming tomorrow.” he says.

your eyes widen, “WHA-“

he clamps his hand over your mouth, “shhhhh… just accept it”

you nod slowly, “okay… thank you kunaaa”

“mhm” he says as he spins you to the side to get a good look at your new piece. “do you like it?”

“of course i do, you drew it” you say, staring adoringly into his eyes. “wanna tell me what flowers you drew?”

he points to each one as he names them, “alstroemeria, calla lily, baby’s breath, camellia, daisy, marigold, and rose”

“wanna tell me what they mean?”

“no. google it.”

later, when you go to google the flowers, tears well in your eyes at your boyfriend’s thoughtfulness.

[alstroemeria (devotion and friendship), calla lily (magnificent beauty), baby’s breath (everlasting love), camellia (perfected loveliness), daisy (cheerfulness), marigold (power and strength), rose (loyalty and love)]

you come up behind him and jump on his back, kissing his cheek, “you’re the best”

the corner of his mouth lifts, “so when are we getting matching tattoos?”

thank you so much to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers and support banners 🫶

and thank YOU so much for reading! i appreciate you!

[pedrostylez]

How The Crow Flies - pt. 8

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter Summary: You return to the apartment Javier set you up in, and find him waiting for you

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Hurt feelings, mentions of violence, hitting, slapping, mean words (again we got a Capricorn reader who maybe feels bad for putting Javi in this situation) mentions of fucking others, some jealousy, Javi big time emotionally damaged, shower fingering sort of smut as a way to make it up to reader, DUBCON mentions and references

A/N: Thank you guys for being patient. Honestly, February has been one of the worst months ever for me on a personal level, and so writing has both been difficult and all I would rather do. I'm thinking about how best to write the next 2 chapters, and part of me thinks I can really just have it be 1 more...we will see! If I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @mellymbee

It’s all mostly a blur.

Driving up to the apartment and noticing Javier’s vehicle parked in the driveway. The tuft of his hair poking over the top of his seat, lolled to one side as if he was asleep. 

The sun on your face as you slide sunglasses over your eyes, warming your skin as you unlock the front door. 

The way Javier’s car door shuts behind him, calling your name and following you into the apartment. It’s like you barely hear him call your name as he trails you up to the doorway.

Staring at Javier and seeing only Frankie, wondering what he is doing in the moment is the only thing you can think about. The ghost feeling of Frankie’s lips on yours as he whispered a goodbye to you just a few hours ago. His smile as he pulled you back to him, telling you to not come back to the jungle unless it was to “ruin these assholes’ day.” The way his thumb and finger pinched gently at your chin when you rolled your eyes; the way he couldn’t stop looking at your mouth until he finally leaned in to kiss you again. 

You couldn’t get those things out of your head. Swirling, swirling, swirling around as you walked around your apartment and began sliding things into cardboard boxes. 

The way Javier asks where you have been doesn’t really register. 

No, nothing is really memorable until his fingers grasp around your wrist and spin you around to face him. His eyes, not trained on your face but on your shirt, welling with tears. “What happened to you?”

It was all just noise until he says that. You blink, shaking your head and pulling your wrist out of his grip. He follows you, hesitant but determined as he speaks again. “Please, hermosa I-I’ve been so worried–”

“You blew my cover.” It spills out of your mouth, holding your hand up toward his chest to silently tell him to stop moving. 

He pauses, visibly paling and mouth agape like a fish. It was hard to surprise him–you had come to know that over the months of working with him. Right now, you have somehow done so, his eyes searching yours desperately for an answer. 

He blindly is reaching for the wall behind him, his knuckles flushing white as he squeezes at the door frame his hand landed on. “What?” He hiccups, looking you over and eyes continuously going to your shirt-over and over and over. 

You set the cardboard box down in your hands-half full of the trinkets he had told you to decorate with. You have this urge to suddenly go back to your own apartment. “You called me so many times that I was cornered, and I had to say who I was to not have my neck sliced open.”

It feels like a bit of an exaggeration at this moment, especially after this morning with Frankie. But it is the truth-you do not doubt that if you hadn’t said who you were, that Frankie would have killed you in that moment. 

Javier’s eyes flash back to your shirt again, and you finally look down. You find your shirt stained with dried blood, likely from the cuts that Frankie put there. “Did…d-did you get hurt?” His voice is barely above a whisper, hands releasing the door frame to run through his hair.  

You look back down to the task at hand, placing drinking glasses into the box. This overwhelming feeling of annoyance starts to course through you, hands beginning to shake as you stack each glass. The clinking, the piercing sound of glass on glass starts to rub at your bones unpleasantly. 

You close your eyes to try and recenter yourself, Javier’s pleas fading to the background again as he asks more questions. A loud crash has you opening your eyes again, glass shattered at your feet from where you’ve missed the box. Breaths come heavy, your chest rising and falling more rapidly as your anger comes to a head. “I had a fucking knife held to my throat because of you.” 

It comes barreling out of your mouth, the same way you said your cover was blown, but more angry. You’ve whirled around to him, clenching your jaw and lifting a shaking finger. “And it’s your fucking fault!”

Javier shakes his head adamantly, sniffling and blinking rapid to hold back tears. Brokenly, he asks for you to wait, to hold on before flying completely off the handle. 

You can’t help how you’re still shaking with anger, stepping forward to give Javi a shove to step away from you. “You called me so many times that I was backed into a corner, had a knife held to my throat!”

“Please, baby you weren’t coming home–”

“I had to say I was DEA! This is your fault! You called when Frankie–”

“Frankie?” His hands have clasped around your wrists now, the sadness and worry swiped away from his face in an instant. You realize your mistake, naming Frankie out loud as the person that discovered who you were, instead of one of the security guards. “What the fuck was Frankie doing keeping you an extra day? What were you doing together?”

You scoff, attempting to pull away from him but his grip tightens. Javi’s eyes are wild with anger, searching for answers he still can’t seem to find. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

“It is my fucking business when you’re getting threatened by some drug addict that was practically fired out of his little squad he was in with Santiago Pope.” He snarls, releasing your wrists and looking around your apartment, pacing. “Really? None of my concern? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I’ve gotten a lot of information from him.” You attempt to sound secure in your answer, clearing your throat to have it come out louder than before. You didn’t know that about Frankie. “He wouldn’t have known or found out if you hadn’t been calling me over and over.”

Javi has the audacity to begin laughing, scratching at the back of his neck and glaring in your direction. “What, do you keep me as ‘PENA DEA’ on that phone? Are you that fucking stupid?” He’s reaching into his back pocket for his cigarettes and lighting one, blowing smoke directly in your face to piss you off.

You reel back, surprise overtaking your insecurity about Frankie’s past with another slew of anger.  “Are you stupid enough to call me over and over and not think that maybe I was busy gathering information? Like that maybe they are getting raided today? Right now!”

Javi stubs out the cigarette on the counter, watching the plastic burn slightly before throwing it into the sink. “Right now?” He asks, watching your single nod in defiance. He runs his hands through his hair again, not able to hold back the groan of frustration.  “And you didn’t think to come back sooner? To call me on the way? You waited until you were here?”

“They aren’t after what we’re after–”

“Stechner has been on my ass since I’ve had you on this. He’s sniffing around for a mistake, and you’re prancing around being an actual fucking whore?” He yells, face heated and eyes wide to take you in. 

And what can you do, exactly? Lie and have it be another argument? Not say the truth and have him know that you have, in fact, been sleeping with your own informant? Instead of a shrug, or an apology, or an admittance, you pull out the only thing in your arsenal that you can think of. “How is that any different than what you did before?”

He shouts as if pained by your words, hunching over himself before standing straight to point a finger at you. “I can’t believe you!” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh, your hand rubbing at your forehead.  “What were you actually fucking expecting right now, Javi? You asked me to sleep around with men for information that wasn’t even part of an active mission. And then you blew my cover, and had the audacity to yell at me!” You screech back. 

When he doesn’t respond immediately you’re back to pushing him, wanting him out of your space. You want him to leave, to leave you alone.

To his credit, Javier takes your shoves, your slaps, and only closes his eyes to breathe deeply through his nose. You wonder briefly if you are going to leave a bruise on him. 

He opens his eyes and stares at you, waiting patiently for your shoves to reduce to almost nothing. When he speaks it comes out calm, ready to try again. “You could have called me. Before you stayed the extra night, after he held a knife to your throat-you should have called me if you needed me.”

If you needed me. “I don’t need you.”

The pain in his eyes is apparent, reaching for you again to hold you steady against him. He furrows his brows, shaking his head and desperate to get his point across to you. “You don’t get it.”

You shut your eyes, refusing to look at him. He gives you a small shake, sighing deeply.”You don’t understand how terrified I was? After we fought you haven’t spoken to me, or called me back and I’ve been barely holding it together.” You go to interrupt him, but he continues. “I thought I lost you last night. Thought you were trapped, or hurt and…I shouldn’t have called you so much that it put you in danger, but if you had just told me what was going on–”

He sighs heavily, clasping a hand around the back of your neck to hold you still as his forehead presses to yours. “I need you.” A whimper bubbles out of your chest, listening to his rough swallow. “This isn’t about the money, or the side mission. I need you; do you understand?”

You open your eyes, watering and wide as you stare him down. You’re searching, trying to see if he’s lying. “You can’t guilt trip me.”

Javier holds his breath, pulling you impossibly closer. Your chest is pressed to his, and you’re sure that he can feel your heartbeat through the layers of clothing, pounding. “I’m not. Please, hermosa hear me.” 

It’s quiet between you, your breath puffing over his face in humid clouds. You soften slowly, tension leaving your body until you’re leaning all your weight against him. You can’t help it; you’re trying to understand. He was concerned, worried, not thinking as a boss, but as someone that cares for you. He sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to hold you close to him. “I thought I lost you, baby. I’m sorry.”

You’re silent for a while longer, nodding when you finally decide. “I’m sorry.” You whisper against his chest, hands grabbing at the fabric. “I should have called you back.”

Javi hums, rubbing his hand down your spine gently. You pull away from him, sniffling and looking up to his face. “There’s a whole team of them…just raiding the place for money. There won’t be any proof they were there.”

Javier nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead in acceptance. “Let them take the money.”

Javier ushered you out of the apartment quickly, packing what boxes you’ve started into the back of his car and promising to stop by at a later time to get the rest of it. 

He’s such a fuck up. 

He thought he could handle this months ago, when he first met you and got you involved in this side mission. He thought that you would give some intel, they would do a raid, and that would be the end of it. 

He was sorely mistaken. 

You’re next to him in his car as he pulls away from the apartment, and his hand slips over yours. You’re stiff for a moment before looking over at him and sighing, squeezing his fingers in reassurance. “You’ll never have to do that again.” He promises, and he’s not sure if he’s promising never to do undercover again, or to being away from him. 

He doesn’t want to define it in case you don’t want the latter. 

Javi keeps quiet when you don’t respond, squeezing the meat of your palm in his and rushing to his own apartment. He hadn’t told you explicitly but he was not going to leave you alone to your own devices; the dried blood on your shirt had him spiraling enough that he wanted to watch over you tonight. 

He has so many things he wants to say, but none of them come out as he unlocks his door and takes your bag for you. He wants to ask if you’re actually okay, if this is what you expected, if you were still mad at him. Were you just appeasing him to stop arguing, or were you genuinely sorry? What happened with Frankie beyond a knife to your throat that made you not tell him what was going on?

None of it comes out as you tell him quietly that you are going to take a shower. He just nods, watching you step away from him and shut the door softly behind you. No, nothing comes out of his mouth until a few minutes later after the water has started, that he hears deep breaths and sniffles echoing off the tile. 

He didn’t want to push you, but the sound of you crying was something he couldn’t handle. It urged him forward, lightly knocking on the door and calling your name. When you don’t respond he opens the door, eyes falling to your defeated figure in the stream of water. 

“Are you alright, hermosa?” He asks, watching as you step away from the water to glance at him. Your eyes are red, waterlogged and shivering as you nod at him. 

“Y-yes. Yeah.” You sniffle, shaking the water from your head and attempting to cover yourself. “I’m fine.”

Javier pauses, stepping forward to close the bathroom door behind him. It’s hot in the bathroom, humid clouds floating from the shower head to him and fogging the mirror. It makes it harder to breathe, but he doesn’t mind if he gets to be closer to you. Javier observes you, not letting his eyes wander much until you face him fully. He can’t help but let his eyes fall to the neat lines across your chest and collarbone, red and angry staring back at him. “What’s that?”

You look down like you weren’t aware you had cuts on your chest, dumbfounded for a moment before you give a noncommittal shrug. “Just a few scratches.”

Javi shakes his head, stepping toward the glass shower door and popping it open. A closer look is all he tells himself, just to inspect that they are fine and that you won’t die from bleeding out in the middle of the night, or of infection at a later date.

His hand reaches out tentatively, running his finger across one of the marks and looking up to your face to watch for a reaction. When you don’t have one, he sighs and let’s his eyes settle on yours. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, his thumb drifting up to the skin covering your pulse, rubbing back and forth as soothingly as possible. 

“You don’t need to be.” you say just as quietly, lifting a hand and resting it on his chest. The water on your hand seeps through his shirt, leaving a hot brand on his skin.

Javi’s throat closes, emotions running high. “I should have protected you.”

You shake your head, chastising him. “There was nothing more you could have done, Javi.”

He winces, pressing himself further against you. His shirt is fully soaked now, but he doesn’t care. “I shouldn’t have let you go in the jungle.”

“It’s okay, Javi.” You pat at his chest, pulling your hand away as if you’re only just now realizing that you’ve gotten his clothing wet. His own covers yours, bringing it back to the imprint you’ve left–he wants to feel you against him.

“Please, forgive me.” He begs; he knows he’s begging. He doesn’t beg as far as he is concerned, but something in him is crumbling. He leans forward and presses his lips to your skin, above your brow, your cheekbone, your jaw. He breathes heavily in your ear, shutting his eyes tightly.

He feels your slight nod, a quiet “I forgive you, Javi.” and he’s choked up with tears. He’s rushing to join you in the shower, a couple buttons popping off his shirt as it slides down his arms, your fingers going for the button of his jeans. 

Once he’s fully naked and pressed against you, the water is beating down on his back, your fingers drawing gentle shapes up his spine and his face resting against your shoulder. If he opens his eyes, he can see the cuts directly in front of him, and it makes him shutter more. “I’ll make it right, I promise.”

“There’s nothing to make right.” You sigh, tapping with only your index finger as you think. “We’ll raid Lorea, and it will be over.”

He nods, pressing his lips to your collarbone and feeling the mark from Frankie’s knife. He wants to punch himself for not telling you sooner about what he found out. About how Fransisco Morales was a drug addict, that he was not mentally in the right place the last time he was in the military. It feels suffocating, knowing that you had been around him, speaking to him, fucking him. 

How did it all go so wrong?

His hands drift from your shoulder blades, down to your hips and give you a squeeze. “Let me make it up to you.” He gruffs, finally making eye contact with you. He sees your confusion, your sudden realization of what he means.

“You…you don’t have to.” You say quietly, letting his fingers drift to the curve of your stomach. Watching him, carefully assessing. 

“I want to. If you want me to?” He watches your pupils blow wide, interest peaking as his thumb brushes through the patch of hair above your center, moving down, down, down. 

You sigh heavily, swallowing and nodding again. Javier is convinced that if he can make you feel good like he knows he can, then maybe you’ll actually start to forgive him. Even if it’s slowly. His fingers drift between your folds, up and down as lightly as possible. You squirm against him, spreading your legs just enough to let his knee hold one to the side. 

Javi looks down, leaning a bit away to get a better look at you while his other hand is still wrapped around the back of your neck, soothing circles into your jaw. “You’re so pretty, baby.” Javier growls through clenched teeth, letting a finger swipe quick circles over your clit. 

You pant, reaching a hand out to his bicep and squeezing. No response, just the acknowledgement of your moan is all that he needs. 

A single finger is pressed into you, curling over and over as his eyes flick back up to yours. He’s desperate to watch you unfold, feel you pulse around a finger, anything to give him the approval, the want that he desires. 

You’re quick to finish, his thumb brushing back and forth over your clit while his finger curls inside of you, his eyes on yours as he talks you to completion. “So fucking perfect, in my place, taking what you want from me.” He whispers, pressing his lips to yours as if to seal the deal between you. 

When he pulls away, your eyes opening and half lidded in exhaustion, he reaches for the shower knob and turns it off. Javi helps you out of the shower, drying the both of you efficiently before guiding you into his bedroom where he’s already placed out clothes for you to sleep in. “I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need something, okay? Get some rest.”

He waits for your small smile and nod, hanging by the door for a moment to see his shirt fall over your torso before heading to the kitchen. He planned to stay up for the rest of the evening and through the night, planning this raid on Lorea and letting you finally get some rest. 

[glassartpeasants]

Lovely pt.03

Shigaraki Tomura xFReader x Overhaul

Warnings: Angst, death, spoilers,

A/N: Im go nap now. I kept my promise to that anon yee

~~~

Two months later (I don’t really know how much time had passed before Overhaul was introduced in the manga)

“So now that we know what’s going on with the Lov recently, we would perhaps make an ally with them. As you can see from the tv screen here, they're all over the news, and if they have our help and we have theirs, we would be able to be stronger and take over Japan and then everyone else that has those disgusting quirks.” 

You looked at Overhaul from across the room as he showed you and everyone else the plan to be put into motion. He heard that from some sources that were on the roam. You were never one to disobey your boss, so you listen with open ears as you're glad that your mask hid the hearts in your eyes as you looked at him. 

He was so brave! He treated you with at least some sort of respect. More than Shigaraki ever did. And that's why you respected him so much more.

“Okay, here is the plan, (Y/N) and Chrono, you will follow the person that picks me up and brings me to the LOV’s current hideout. Then once I reach there, call the others. If anything goes bad, pop out and protect me. Understood?”

“Yes, Boss!” You both said at the same time. You nodded at each other before getting ready for tonight's mission.

~~~

At the safe house

(Overhaul just killed Magne)

“MAGNE!” Everyone screamed. Compress ran towards Overhaul, ready to fight back, only to have his arm blown off by the masked man. 

“Now!” 

“That’s the signal!” You yell before bursting out of the wall. You and many others are coming to aid your young boss. 

“Shield!” He yelled, and another subordinate was placed in front of him before Shigaraki killed him with one touch.

“Now, now, Shigaraki. I think we may be able to talk.” You knew what was coming as soon as Overhaul opened his mouth. He was gonna expose you like you guys talked about.

“You killed one of my team! How can I be able to listen to you-”

“Do you know, miss (Y/N)?” The room went silent. The League's eyes went wide as they looked at each other. You weren’t dead? How?! They looked for you for so long! Where were you?!

“What have you done to her?!” Toga yelled at him getting ready to slice him.

“Oh, nothing. Isn’t that right, Miss (Y/N)?” He looked at you, signaling you to take off your mask. Not one to disobey, you slowly unclasp your mask from your face before showing your face to the League. Gasps and wide eyes met you. You said nothing as you looked at all of them.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Toga asked. No matter how much you hated Shigaraki, Toga was like your little sister. You loved her and all her craziness. You looked at everyone. Everyone held a mixture of happiness to see you alive and sadness that you had started to work for the Yakuza.

“(Y/N)...” Your eyes turned to  Shigaraki, whose eyes were wide behind Father. 

He couldn’t believe his eyes. You were really here. You were really alive. He dragged that heavy burden of your death all those days just to see that you were alive but on the enemy’s team. 

“Why are you on their team?! You should be on ours-”

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there, Shigaraki. See, let's get one thing straight.” You never called him his full name. You always said baby or Tomu. A stinging sensation erupted throughout his entire body.

“I can’t stand to look at your face. I can’t even stand your voice. What makes you think I’d ever want to work for you again? The only reason I would is for everyone else.” Everyone just stayed silent as they listened to you.

“But as you can see, I’m much more respected by them. I’m no longer seen as a burden. They helped me at my lowest while I was freezing to death in the cold rain, and for that, I owe them my life.” You said nothing afterward before turning around to look at Overhaul.

“Sorry if I talked out of turn or too much Overhaul.” You walk beside him and next to Chronostasis.

“(Y-Y/n), you can’t be serious right now!” Shigaraki looked at you with wide eyes from behind, Father. Watching you listen to that stupid fucker with the mask made him furious. 

“I suppose we best be off. Think about what I said, Shigaraki.” Turning his back, Overhaul walked away, mentioning everyone to follow him as he flicked his business card towards Shigaraki. You heard everyone walking back as you stared at your old friends.

Reaching into your coat pocket, you grab what seems to be a bundle of letters. You place it on the ground before running after the man who had just killed Magne. Surely you wouldn’t have known what that fucker would do to her. Right?

~~~

“What’s upsetting you?” Your boss's voice cut through the fog that distracted you. 

“Oh, just nothing. I just zoned out for a second. My apologies, Overhaul.” 

“If this is about me hurting your old team, then I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“It’s just a shame we lost people on both sides. Maybe I’m just being emotional. Regardless, thank you for seeing if I was okay.”

“Yes, now come along. I need you for a mission assignment.”

“Of course, Overhaul.” 

Hopefully, he couldn’t see the tears from behind your mask. When you jumped in to protect him, your eyes immediately went to a bloody puddle and a familiar pair of pants. 

You could feel your heart in your throat as you stared at your hurt and killed friends. Words couldn’t leave your mouth as you tried to make sense of it when you heard a pained grunt from your left.

Turning your head, you saw one of the recruits jump in front of Shigaraki. His skin slowly turned to an ashy yet bloody mess. Tears rimmed your eyes even more as you thought about the man who had just died before you. 

You had gotten to know him from the time you were working under Overhaul. He had a family that he was taking care of. This was the only place that would hire a felon. He wanted to change for his unborn son, which was due any day. Give him what he didn’t have. 

Now, he’ll never see him, and you’ll have to tell his wife what happened to the father of her child.

~~~

Returning to the new base was silent. No one spoke a word as they all tried to process the event that had happened. 

You were alive after all these months. They’ve been so worried about you, fearing the worst. Knowing you were alive was a relief off their shoulders, yet stabbed their hearts as they looked at an empty seat that was once occupied by someone who should have come home with them.

No one wanted to touch your bundle of letters. They feared the contents inside them. Would it be loving? Hate-filled? They didn’t know. 

They didn’t open the letters for about two days after what happened. It probably would have been longer if it wasn’t for Toga finally losing it and cutting off the binding that held them in place. She spread the letters across the table in search of hers. Soon everyone did too. A pang hit their hearts when they saw a letter with ‘Big Sis Magne’ written in your handwriting. 

Knowing that it wasn’t a plan to kill her gave them a sense of clarity. 

Everyone had a letter. Each was at least two pages long. All of them filled with loving words and sorry’s about you leaving them. Tell them you're proud of how far they have come since you’ve left. All of them except Shigaraki’s.

Looking at the words you’ve written on the page made his hands shake as a fury of emotions rushed through him: anger, sadness, love, heartache, everything in between as he read your handwriting.

Shigaraki

Read this carefully and to the end. 

The day I met you, the sky was dark, and the air carried a slight nip. I remember running into you after stealing some jewelry for someone. You had your hood down so no one could see your face. You were carrying a new keyboard in one hand and kept the other hand in your pocket. 

We bumped shoulders, causing each of us to drop our things. Well, I caught your keyboard while all the jewelry fell out of my pocket and onto the sidewalk's concrete.

I remember making eye contact with you. Your ruby eyes were so enchanting that I couldn’t help but try to get lost in them. I felt so safe looking into them. I didn’t even process who you were until you asked why I was staring instead of running and hiding. 

I remember the look on your face when I told you that I thought you were beautiful. Your cheeks turned red as you tried to avoid staring at me.  I could only giggle as I picked up my stolen goods before grabbing a pen I had stolen from the same place. Maybe it was fate that led me to you. You were so shocked when I gently held your hand to write my number on it. I didn’t have any paper, and despite being deadly, your hand was what I had used as a substitute.

It only took me three months to fall so madly in love with you. Everything about you was perfect to me. I loved how you smiled, how you got excited when you finished a game, and when a mission went as planned. Even the tiny things about you made me smile. 

I remember telling you, 'I love you' for the first time. We sat in your bed, and I played with your hair. You slept so peacefully as you cuddled into me. How could I not want to express my feeling when you were in such a state of calm? I didn't think you'd hear me,

but you did.

I remember how happy I felt when you said it back to me. How tears fell from my eyes as I kissed you. Placing my hands on your face just to feel you even closer.

That night, was the night I gave my first to you. It was so special to me, and I thought it would be to you too. But the following day told me otherwise.

I remember waking up cold and trying to find your embrace, only to see you were in the bar, chugging down a drink at eight in the morning.

When I walked up to you, you gave me a look of annoyance. I didn't know what was wrong, so I tried to ask, only for you to tell me to mind my own business.

I was so confused. Why were you acting so terribly? Had I done something wrong? Why were you so upset? Was there anything I could do to make you feel better?

After that night, you looked at me and treated me differently. You were acting as if I'm such a bother. Telling me that You had better things to do. 

You didn’t trust me anymore. Did you ever trust me in the first place? I don’t know.

Looking back on it now, I feel you just wanted a quick fuck. But you lacked the balls to end it. You fooled me into believing you loved me back. Such a heartless thing, even for a villain. 

It didn’t help that you never bothered to hide your lust for others. I could see the way your eyes looked at them. I could hear the words you used to say to me leave your lips as you spoke them. 

Was I really just a simple little toy that you could love and then throw me away? To me, the answer is yes. And I am a fool for thinking that we could have been the king and queen of villains, just like you always wanted. 

I have no good words to leave you with. Thinking about you leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and writing this letter only continues to burn my already broken heart. 

Karma always comes back. It may take a while, but I’ll wait for the day when you get what you deserve for breaking my heart.

-(L/N) (Y/N)

~~~

You sat in the bath, looking at the ceiling. A sickening feeling filled your body. 

As you were walking around the compound on security duty, you heard the running footsteps of what sounded like a child. You turned your head only to see a little girl running towards you. Her eyes filled with fear and tears. Instantly, you go and try to comfort her and see what's wrong.

“Woah there, where did you come from?” You grab her, and she tries to escape, but you continue to assure her that you mean no harm. You could see her body wrapped up in what looked like bandages. A little horn adorned her head.

“Hey, hey. I’m not gonna hurt you. Now can you tell me where you came from and if you're okay?” The little girl struggled to hold back tears.

“I need to run! They’re gonna find me and take me back! They’re going to hurt me again! Don’t take me back!” Your heartbeat drummed in your ears as you tried to comprehend what she was saying. Who’s they? And what are they doing to this poor girl that's got her so petrified?

“Okay, what do they look like? Can you give me a description?”

“He has brown hair…and wears black button-ups when he sees me…a man in a white trench coat is always by his side too.” You felt like your whole world shattered again. 

‘No…he couldn’t be that cruel…right?’ Your thoughts ran rapidly as you pulled the little girl in for a hug. You could feel her body shake as she hugged you back. Whispering sorry in her ear and how it’s going to be okay. 

“Eri?!-Thank god you found her (Y/N). I thought she would have run off.” The sound of Chrono’s voice made both you and her freeze. 

“What is this little girl doing in the compound? She’s covered in bandages and terrified!” You look at him with disdain through your mask. 

“She’s Pop’s granddaughter. She was put in our care. She’s just a little clumsy and shy.” You saw him walking towards her, but you picked her up and held her close to you.

“Well. She’s a little shaken up. Maybe it’s best if she gets something to eat and takes a nap. She is a little girl, after all.” You could tell Chrono was slightly annoyed just by his body language, but you suppose he didn’t want to give up the charade of whatever he and Overhaul had going on.

“Fine. Let’s go to the kitchen and grab her a snack. Then she’s going back to her room.” It's probably the best you would get, so you decided not to push it.

“Where is her room? I can grab her snack and bring her back. I know you're probably busy.” You saw him clench his fists. He knew you were right, but he also knew that Overhaul would throw a fit.

“Its fine. I can take care of her. You don’t need to worry.” Please, please, just leave!

“Okay. It's on corridor C, the middle room of the hall.” With that, he left. He was walking back into the depths of the compound, leaving you and the little girl alone.

“There’s not much I can do right now. But I can get you something to eat. And maybe we can stop by my room to grab some candy before bringing you back to your room.” She looked at you sad but understood that you stood no chance against Overhaul in his compound.

You still couldn’t get her face out of your mind. Her fearful expression and how she tried to hold back her tears broke your heart. How could anyone make a child fear them so horribly? 

It felt like your skin was dirty as the thought of working for someone that has hurt a little child. How long had it been going on? Was it really happening all underneath your nose? You barely visited C corridor, but you would’ve thought you’d hear a child. 

Despite being a villain, you still had morals. 

The thought of that child staying at the compound was bad enough, now with them hurting her? All for what? Bullets? God, you should have questioned what they made the bullets with more. 

You couldn’t sit by knowing a child was getting hurt and you weren’t doing anything about it. There was a way to save her, but it’d likely cost you your life or might not even work. 

But you had to try, right?

~~~

You managed to leave the compound under the guise of getting groceries. Your face covered in a mask as you look around, trying to find the nearest hero. Making it look like you happened to get arrested was the best idea you could muster. That way, it wouldn’t look like you had betrayed them originally until the very end.

“LeMillion, huh? Why did you choose that name?”

“Because I'm going to save a million!” Glimpsing past you, you see a green-haired boy, no older than 15 perhaps, and an older boy with blonde hair. You could have sworn they looked familiar.

Wait a minute. 

That kid was the kid that beat Muscular! He was also at the sports festival! Him being tied to UA is perfect!

“Hey, you two.” The sound of your voice made them swivel their heads around to look at you.

“Oh! Can we help you, citizen?” They both held bright smiles, which gave you a feeling of hope.

“I need you guys to arrest me.”

“What?”

“It’s the only way. They won’t suspect anything if I'm arrested. I can’t say anything now. They have eyes everywhere.”

“Um…I don’t think we can arrest you without reasonable cause? Is that right LeMill-”

“Let’s just do it. I have a feeling it’s essential to hear what she has to say.”

~~~

Prison was a lot colder than TV led on. At least you had the cell to yourself and how heroes would stop by and give you updates. Today was like every other day since you’ve been in. About three months, you’d say. It felt like forever in reality. 

The last thing you heard about the plans they were going to do was how they were going to raid the Shie Hassakai base. You felt terrible, not for anyone in there, but for leaving Eri alone for two months. Who knows what those monsters did to her while you were gone? It pained you, knowing this was the only way. Cause if you tried to run away with her, you’d be killed, and she’d be taken back. Who would save her then?

“Hey (L/N), you have a visitor.” 

“Okay.” The sound of the door opening made you turn your eyes. They usually just talk to you through the bars. Why would they open the door? 

“Do you know anything about the League of Villians like you did the Shie Hassakai?” Looking in the direction of the door, you see a detective of some sort standing in the frame.

“No. I haven’t met them. It's all the villains ever talk about, though.” You lied straight through your teeth. You’d rather burn than sell out the ones that actually mattered to you, even if you were in prison.

“Hmm, I see. Well, the heroes are doing the raid now. I know that part of your agreement to speak was for updates. I don’t know how it’s going, but I just wanted to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind?”

“Do I have to?”

“If you do, I might be able to reduce your sentence. It’ll be like a plea deal.”

“Okay, fine. Throw them at me.”

~~~

The charges the detective said you had were much less than you thought. Then again, you suppose he didn’t know ALL the crimes you’ve committed during your years as a villain. Obviously, you weren’t going to tell him all of them, so you just agreed to whatever would get you out of the freezing pit of metal bars.

You only ended up getting about five years in prison. Not bad compared to what you’ve heard from others. A whole lifetime. Then again, some crimes were worse than yours.

Thinking about your sentencing, you heard footsteps coming down the hall and closer to your door. Figuring it was a guard to take you to dinner, you get ready to leave the cell. 

“(L/N). You have a visitor. Make it snappy. Visiting hours end in 10 minutes.” You raised your eyebrow. Why would you have any visitors now? You weren’t expecting the detective back, and you had no friends or family that’d visit you.

Your eyes widen in shock as you see a familiar little girl pop out from behind the door.

“Eri?!” Walking slowly over to her, she ran towards you and wrapped her arms around you. You did the same as you felt a big relief lift off your shoulders. 

“Oh, thank god! Your okay!” You feel tears fill your eyes. The plan worked. You might be stuck behind bars for a while, but now she’s okay.

“She insisted on coming to see you. She just got out of the hospital.” Raising your head, you see Pro-Hero EraserHead. 

“Well, thank you. Where is she going to stay?”

“She’s going to stay with me for the time.”

“Your gonna be so safe, huh, Eri?” You feel her hug you harder. 

“When are you gonna get out of here?” 

“Oh. Haha, it won’t be for a while but don’t worry, if you ever wanna visit me, you can just ask Mr. EraserHead, alright?” She nodded her head before looking at the Pro Hero.

“Alright, Eri, we came late, so we don’t have much time to talk.” Her little face turned into a frown as she hugged you tight once more as she whispered in your ear.

“Thank you. Your my hero.”

[mariana-oconnor]

Silver Blaze pt 3

So, the last part buried my dreams of Silver Blaze cantering gaily across the moor, enjoying his new life of freedom and pony companions, apparently he is in the other stable (and hopefully being treated well by the guy in charge if only because he's worth something). But what really happened that night.

Also the curious incident of the dog in the nighttime is in this part, I believe.

Also, apparently the curious incidents of the sheep in the field:

“Have you noticed anything amiss with them of late?” “Well, sir, not of much account; but three of them have gone lame, sir.”

If someone has been practising how to lame a horse by laming sheep they are going in the special prison for animal cruelty.

Someone's been practising making animals lame on the sheep, haven't they?

Either that or there's a mysterious livestock-laming illness going around. What does foot and mouth do? (Apparently does make animals lame, but also has several other unpleasant symptoms, so they probably would have noticed that.)

But if Silver Blaze was ill, then having the horse 'stolen' so it couldn't run would probably be a better way of getting insurance money. Maybe. Surely he'd be insured against illness as well, though maybe not for as much? I know nothing about animal insurance, or race horses.

Colonel Ross still wore an expression which showed the poor opinion which he had formed of my companion's ability...

Colonel Ross is still being a dick, I see. Consistent characterisation there, I commend you. It does seem to be his one distinguishing feature. The parade of unpleasant colonels continues.

That was quite fun to say.

“To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.” “The dog did nothing in the night-time.” “That was the curious incident,” remarked Sherlock Holmes.

The Colonel was very angry. “I have been on the turf for twenty years, and never was asked such a question as that before,” said he. “A child would know Silver Blaze, with his white forehead and his mottled off-foreleg.”

...because there's absolutely no way to cover up those sorts of markings. At all... Nope. Impossible.

Oh, Mr Heath Newton... don't give your horse a racist name. Dude. Don't make the animal an accessory to your bigotry. I was all ready to like you for being the only person without a title, but nope. And there's another colonel in the running, are there really no other army ranks available? How many colonels does the British army have in the 1890s that they can just run around murdering and being murdered with such abandon?

(Colonel Wardlaw has neither murdered nor been murdered as far as I'm aware. Currently his only crime is calling a horse 'Pugilist' which is just a bad name, but at least it's not racist 😃👍. Colonel Ross has also not currently murdered anyone either, but I get the impression he kind of wants to murder Holmes.)

“That's not my horse,” cried the owner. “That beast has not a white hair upon its body. What is this that you have done, Mr. Holmes?”

He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, this one, huh?

“You have only to wash his face and his leg in spirits of wine, and you will find that he is the same old Silver Blaze as ever.” “You take my breath away!”

This is the part I knew, I confess. I think there must be an Enid Blyton book with the same plot, because I remember it being a black horse with the markings covered with shoe polish, but same difference. I'm having fun judging Col. Ross for not realising this sooner, but honestly it's probably not his fault. Although it does seem logical that if someone steals a famous horse, they'd try to hide any well-known markings it has.

Of course, these days horses are microchipped, but Leverage already worked out how to get around that.

“My dear sir, you have done wonders. The horse looks very fit and well. It never went better in its life. I owe you a thousand apologies for having doubted your ability. You have done me a great service by recovering my horse. You would do me a greater still if you could lay your hands on the murderer of John Straker.”

Oh wow, an actual apology. Maybe not all colonels are bad...

The Colonel flushed angrily. “I quite recognize that I am under obligations to you, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “but I must regard what you have just said as either a very bad joke or an insult.”

Now Holmes is just having fun with him. This plus the 'it was the horse!' followed by 'but I have a bet on, so you'll have to wait' is just plain vindictive. Clearly the colonel's apology wasn't quite enough to absolve him of all punishment in Holmes' eyes.

"...the immense significance of the curried mutton occurred to me..."

Not quite as catchy, but it could totally be a sequel.

"Powdered opium is by no means tasteless. The flavor is not disagreeable, but it is perceptible."

I did wonder about this, but I don't know enough about powdered opium to comment. So the immense significance of the curried mutton was that it was spicy?

And the curious incident of the dog in the night-time is that it did not bark when someone stole the horse. Meaning it must have been an inside job, but Ned was apparently not involved. His drugging was honest.

"There have been cases before now where trainers have made sure of great sums of money by laying against their own horses, through agents, and then preventing them from winning by fraud."

The classic betting fraud scam, which is why insider betting is illegal. Not an insurance scam. Those are pretty much the only reasons to steal a racehorse, right? Well, I guess maybe you just want a racehorse... Always possible.

"You must know, with your wide experience of turf matters, Colonel Ross, that it is possible to make a slight nick upon the tendons of a horse's ham, and to do it subcutaneously, so as to leave absolutely no trace."

Well Straker was a total dick. He really did practise on those sheep, huh? Poor animals. They're the real victims in all of this.

"...Straker was leading a double life, and keeping a second establishment. The nature of the bill showed that there was a lady in the case, and one who had expensive tastes."

So he hurt animals, tried to fix races, and was an adulterer. Just a gem of a human being. And he drugged that one guy, which is pretty horrible, too.

“Ah, it bolted, and was cared for by one of your neighbors. We must have an amnesty in that direction, I think. This is Clapham Junction, if I am not mistaken, and we shall be in Victoria in less than ten minutes."

Who just happened to cover up the markings in such a way as to make the horse unrecognisable to you, but that's nbd. What's this? Almost our stop?

Like the colonel can't put together those pieces of information. He has pretty much 1 neighbour who happens to have a stable. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together on that one.

I suppose you could call the travellers 'neighbours', but that seems unlikely.

The colonel was not a criminal, but he was kind of unlikeable, so he's going down in the tally of unpleasant colonels, if anyone's keeping track. Did ACD have a bad experience with a colonel? This is turning into a pattern.

Next up: The Beryl Coronet, which I remember the name of, but nothing about. In my head it just links back to The Blue Carbuncle, probably because they're both jewels and they have the same initials.

[2dmenenthusiast]

Last Night on Earth Pt. 3

(Ethan Winters x Gn!Reader)

Me? Finally posting a chapter? Why, it couldn't be! I hope ya'll enjoy!

Also, lemme know if anyone would like to be tagged in this series!

Warnings/other info: references to injury, grief

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9

It was cold. The frigid air seeped in through the windows and circulated around the large room. You laid curled up on your bed, knees to your chest. You’d be warmer if you got under the covers, but you didn’t feel like moving. Didn’t feel like showing weakness, which was all you felt the past three days. Weak and helpless.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?”

You turned away from Sister Jude, arms crossed tight against your chest.

“You can be silent all you want. It won’t change the outcome.”

With a huff, you sat up, a glare aimed at the older woman. How could she treat you like this? When it wasn’t even your fault!

You could feel your nose start bleeding again, and you quickly wiped at it. Sister Jude sat on the bed next to you and reached out with a tissue. You slapped her hand away, and she sighed.

“Why must you be so stubborn?”

“I don’t know. Why can’t you punish the jerk that smashed my guitar?”

“Well, maybe it has to do with the fact that he’s currently getting a cast on his arm! Why didn’t you come to me? To any of us?”

You scoffed and stood from the bed, pacing around and throwing your arms out in frustration. “Like you would’ve done anything! All I’d get is another rant from Father O’Neil about ‘being patient’ and ‘forgiveness.’ Screw that!”

“So that means you can just go ahead and start breaking limbs whenever someone upsets you?”

“Like they haven’t done worse to me,” you mumbled under your breath.

She remained for a moment, her eyes searching your face before she sighed and stood from your bed.

“I’ll expect you at confession. If this behavior doesn’t change, you know what will happen.”

When she turned her back, you raised both middle fingers at her and resisted the urge to scream, teeth painfully clenched together. Your eyes stung as you laid back down, hissing in pain and clutching your ribs.

No, you couldn’t tell her about how the other kids dragged you into the bathroom and kicked you until you were bleeding. You couldn’t tell her about the vile and awful things they called you, the notes they stuck on your back when you weren’t looking. Because it would only get worse if you did.

***

“Well, that’s mildly disturbing.”

You’ve seen more than your fair share of disconcerting things while being trapped in your family home. The occasional decapitated limb, the entrails of the hopeless victims your mother stored in the fridge like it was last night's leftovers. Oh, and not to forget the seven foot tall mold monsters brambling around the property.

Surprised to say, “mummified child corpse” was a new one on the ever growing list.

“That’s underselling it I think,” Ethan muttered, and you took a close look at the paper stapled to the lid.

D-Series cranial nerve

D-series peripheral nerve

“What kind of freaky shit is this?

For how long you’ve been trapped, you feel as if you know about as much now as you did when this all first started. You were completely left in the dark, scrambling for answers like a blind, helpless child. The only clue you had was Mia’s hastily scribbled note she left you before she passed out. But she could barely remember her own name most days, let alone what Evie and her minions were all about or where they came from. Was she even a good person if she was involved in all this from the beginning? Did Ethan really know the woman he was married to?

And what the fuck did she bring to your home? Your family?!

The lid slammed with a loud BANG!, shaking the table underneath and the candles meticulously placed around it. You would’ve picked it up and thrown it through the window if the phone hadn’t interrupted your rage induced fit.

You gripped the phone and put the receiver to your ear. “Zoe, I swear on this god given green earth, if you’re not back inside the fucking trailer—”

“Jesus Christ, would you cool it? I’m back. I’m safe.” She sighed on the other end. You could tell she was exhausted. “You found a serum?”

“No. But we found out how to make one. Had to get through Momma and her bugs to fuckin’ get to it.”

“Yeah, could’ve warned me,” Ethan said, raising his voice so Zoe could hear him.

Your sister chuckled as you raised your hand and pushed Ethan back, stilling him with your stare. He raised his hands and shrugged, turning his back.

“We need a D-series head and an arm. Which the creepy factor in this case isn’t surprising at all.”

“A head? I think I got one around here somewhere.”

Your eyes closed, and you pinched the bridge of your nose. “That’s such a comforting and normal thing to say, Zo. Thank you,”

She laughed, and the sound made your lips twitch. It’s been a while since you heard her actually laugh. It was a comfort to know she was still able to.

“Meet me at the trailer once you get it, alright? And don’t get yourself killed.”

You told her to do the same and hung up, relieved to know that your sister was safe. At least for now. With a huff, your back thumped against the wall, and your eyes met Ethan’s. How long has it been since he first got here? Four hours? Five? It felt like an eternity if you were being honest. Time going by at a snail's pace as you both fought tooth and nail to try and stay alive. 

This serum better fucking work!

“You alright?”

Your chest heaved with a breath, and you watched Ethan’s hand twitch at his side, like he wanted to reach out to you just to make sure.

“I will be.”

You moved to step away from the wall, but Ethan was in front of you in an instant, the intense concern in his eyes freezing you to your spot. His hand raised, and you instinctively flinched away. You knew rationally that he would never hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type. But that lingering paranoia, that smidgen of fear that remained, it lurked like a cold shadow over your shoulder. A constant presence and reminder of things that once plagued you so many years ago.

Your tensed shoulders slowly fell, a small indication that Ethan could continue,  and his fingers gently brushed against the base of your neck. A dull pain throbbed where he touched, and you grimaced at the quick reminder of your mother’s hands around your throat.

Squeezing.

Choking.

Killing.

“Does it look bad?”

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, thumb gently sweeping over your collar bone and catching the chain of your tags. The cool metal dragged against your chest, goosebumps rising on your skin. His touch was so careful. Considerate. Something you haven’t experienced in a long, long time. And maybe you shouldn’t be craving more of it, because by god, this was a married man and you certainly were not some fucking homewrecker. But a part of you ached when he pulled his hand away, missing his warmth and the comfort that accompanied it.

“I think you’ll survive.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, and you tore your eyes away from him before any other intrusive thoughts were planted in your brain. Your hand rubbed at the back of your neck once Ethan stepped away, smothering the heat that spread over your skin.

You hate that you react like this. It makes you want to claw at your skin. To scrub at it until it’s raw and bleeding. You don’t want to feel like you need anything from Ethan, especially something he couldn’t give you.

Shaking your head, you immediately attempt to disperse any remaining inappropriate thought, steeling your expression and turning towards the small set of stairs leading towards an unsearched part of the house. 

The cluttered room you step into is almost comforting, homey even. If it weren't for the rotting rat stuffed in the basket at your feet.

Your lips curled downwards in a grimace, casting the sight out of your mind as you gently ran your fingers over the piano keys. They moved into a familiar position, gently pressing down until a few gentle notes clinked through. The sound immediately sent you back to a time more pleasant than what you were facing now. A time of gentleness and care.

"You play?" Ethan wondered from behind you.

You shrugged, turning to him. "Momma did. Taught me how to play a few songs. I don't remember much."

He didn't say anything after that, but he could see the heartache in your eyes at the mention of the person your mother used to be.

You quickly moved on, turning the corner and coming across another lantern and another locked door. You experimentally pushed on it, the solid weight under your palms not even giving an inch. You glanced at the lantern on the uneven scale when it hit you.

Son of a-

"We have to find her."

Ethan's eyes were wide, silently asking you what the hell you were implying. "What?"

"It's the only way to get through. Take the light and find the ingredients. You got me?"

“She’s going to slaughter us!”

“Do you wanna get the serum or not?!”

Ethan sighed in defeat, fingers pressing into his eyes. It wasn’t the smartest option, but it was the only one you could see. That, or stay here for the insects to burrow into your skin and fester.

“I’m not gonna go back to the trailer and lick my wounds when we’ve come this far. You told me we could do this, right?” 

Ethan finally looked at you, brows pinched and jaw clenched. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing.

“Then let’s get it done.”

There was a monstrously heavy and bleak presence that loomed over you once you made your way back to the hole in the floor. You could feel it clawing at your back, breathing down your neck. It sent your blood pressure spiking, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as you looked down into the soggy pit. The water had drained, leaving mud and squiggling bugs in its wake, and Ethan reluctantly descended the creaky ladder.

You followed once he made it all the way down and cursed when your foot slipped against the wet wood, fingers tightening their grip. But, Ethan was already there before you could fall, hands on your legs to stabilize you.

“You alright?”

Gulping, you nodded. The warmth of his palms through your jeans seared your skin, and his touch only left you once your feet hit solid ground. Muttering a soft ‘thanks,’ you gingerly pulled away and looked down the muddy cavern beside you.

What you saw forced a breath out of your lungs from shock. Your mother was scuttling ahead on all fours, her limbs an abnormally long length like a gangly spider.

“Huh. Well that’s special.”

You glanced at Ethan with raised brows and shook your head. At least he could find humor in the situation.

With your gun raised, you took the lead, Ethan right on your heels with his shotgun clutched tight in his hands. Sweat dripped down your forehead, the thick and musty air clogging your lungs and sticking your shirt to your skin. Once you finally made it out through the manhole, you greedily sucked in the fresh air, your sore throat and burning skin grateful.

“Fucking—” You shoved your pistol aside and gripped one sleeve of your shirt, pulling until you heard the satisfying rip of fabric. Doing the same to the other, your muscles tensed and flexed under the cool air, a pleasant shiver running up your spine as goosebumps covered your skin. Ethan looked on with curious eyes, but you soon had the solid weight of your weapon back in your hands and were already moving on.

The crushing reality that you might just have to kill your mother was finally starting to seep in, and it felt like a cement brick had been dropped right on your chest. You had accepted the reality long ago that your mom died the day Evie infected her, and she was too far along for any cure to work on her. But… this thing. This fucking monster, it wore her face, spoke in her voice.

But she wasn’t your momma. Not anymore.

The decrepit house she took shelter in felt like it was going to collapse any minute, the wooden beams holding it up practically chewed through and the foundation sliding.

“Try not to fall through the floor again, yeah?” you said, ascending the rotten steps.

Ethan spoke up, but he was interrupted when the window in front of you shattered and long limbs stretched out towards you.

“Come on now with me! We’re gonna settle this!” Marguerite screeched.

Ethan reacted faster than you would’ve given him credit for, firing off his shotgun as you pulled the trigger on your pistol. She screamed and crawled back through the window whilst you scrambled to your feet and raced up the rest of the stairs, Ethan hot on your tail. 

Boots skidding across the floor, Ethan’s body practically slammed into yours as he tried to dodge your mother’s oncoming attacks. Her hand seized through the floor and gripped his ankle, his gun going flying as she yanked him down.

“Fuck!” He scrambled for you, and your gun went off in your mother’s face.

“Agh! You son of a bitch! I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you hear me?! 

“Let. Him. Go!”

You shot again, and she finally released her hold with a scream, crawling off to somewhere you couldn’t see. Ethan pulled his foot out of the floor with a pained hiss, blood soaking his pants and large splinters of wood piercing his skin.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, limping over to his shotgun, “Let’s go kill that fucking bitch.”

You could make out your mother’s yelling and cursing from the floor below, and you attempted to maneuver the upstairs without falling through the huge gaps in the floor. The smell of gunpowder and smoke was heavy in the air, shots booming and Marguerite’s screams ear piercing. Ethan tried to stay close to you the entire time, whether that be because he was scared or he was trying to protect you, you didn’t know. But you weren’t complaining, either.

The vile cracking and shifting of your mother’s limbs caught your attention, and you watched with horror as she jumped all the way from the bottom floor up to where you stood. She swiped an arm out and caught your side, and your body slammed into the wall before you slumped down against it. Ethan cried out your name, making a beeline for you when Marguerite snatched the back of his shirt and threw him towards the opposite side of the house. He crashed through the wall and landed harshly on the ground, rolling onto his back.

“Ethan! No!”

He wasn’t responsive, lying prone as your mother stomped towards you. Fear gripped at your spine, chest heaving with stuttering breaths and your body so tense it felt like you were made of ice. The monster in front of you breathed heavily, her limbs dangling at her sides and her disgusting, slimy belly peeking through her dress. She looked like something out of your nightmares. A horror story the kids in foster homes would use to torment you.

You tried to stand, bracing your hand against the wall, but your leg and side screamed in pain. She got closer with every long stride, and soon, she was right in front of you, a boney hand clutching your neck and lifting. She dangled you over the giant hole in the second level, your hand coming up to grip at her arm as she bared her disgusting teeth.

“You fucking good for nothing, bitch. I wish I never became your mother!”

She screamed the words, spit landing on your face and mixing with the tears that rolled down your cheeks. There was a quiet click, and cool metal pressed against her forehead.

“My mother—” you gasp for breath, finger squeezing down on the trigger, “is dead!”

BANG!

You were floating. Falling. And then the ground meets your back like a speeding train. Your mouth opens, but you can’t gasp for breath because it’s being forced out of you. Your ears ring, and you can’t hear. Not even when Ethan is by your side, grabbing your shoulders and mouthing something you guess is your name.

Finally, your back arches with a deep intake of air, coughing on it violently before you can manage to breathe again. Ethan is there the whole time, his hands gently holding you and trying to talk you through it. When your head lolls to the side, you see your dead mother’s face right next to you. White crawls over her skin until her whole body is calcified and frozen.

And then she breaks and falls apart.

You can hear her crumbling, her face falling away until you can no longer recognize her. It hurts. More than you thought it would. 

She was so beautiful once.

“Hey! Hey, can you hear me?”

Ethan shakes you and you groan out in pain. He immediately apologizes and brushes your hair out of your face.

“Come on, you gotta get up. You’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

There’s desperation in his voice you’ve only heard once before. When he begged you to help him find his wife. And you don’t bother to question why it fills you with a bit of warmth.

You're pretty sure you fractured a rib, and it’s still incredibly hard to breathe, but you sit up anyway with his help, gripping his arm when the pain makes you seize up.

“I’ve got you. You’re alright.”

He’s got you.

Once you feel like you can deal with the pain, you shift onto your knees with a bit of difficulty, and look down at the pile of dust that was once your mom. Your hand slowly sifted through it, grabbing a handful and letting the dust fall between your fingers until a golden band rests in your palm.

She’s gone.

She’s really gone this time.

Your fingers curl around the ring and you hold it to your chest, body wracking with violent sobs. Ethan is next to you in a heartbeat, his arms carefully wrapping around you and tugging until you fall back into him. He mutters apologies and comforts into your ear, and all the while you’re screaming at yourself in your head for you to stop.

Get a grip! She was a monster!

Then why does it hurt so much?

“Hey. I know, okay? But we gotta go,” Ethan muttered, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder.

You knew he was right. You had to leave before something else came looking for you. With a sniffle, Ethan helped you stand to your feet and grabbed the lantern with his other hand, gently shaking the dust off of it. You never felt more hopeless than in that moment, injured and practically falling over if it weren’t for the man next to you. And while you’d normally detest at the idea of someone practically carrying you to safety, you wouldn’t put up much of a fight this time.

Still, you tried not to put all your weight on him, knowing he was hurt too. You leaned away a bit, but the second he felt your weight slightly lean off him, he pulled you right back against his side.

“Ethan, I can—”

“Don’t. I got you.”

“You’re hurt too, asshole. I’m not— Agh! I’m not lettin’ you do all the heavy lifting.”

Ethan chuckled and relented, letting you take a bit of his struggle. “You’re so damn stubborn, you know that?”

You smiled, and it was less painful than you thought it would be. “Is that what you were gonna tell me earlier? Back at the old house?”

“Something along those lines. Maybe a bit meaner.”

“You’ll break my heart by the end o’ this, Winters.”

The hand on your side gave you a light squeeze. 

“I’ll make it up to you.”

[hangingfrommylips]

The over-headcanonization of things. Pt I: Remus

Being immersed on internet fandom since the ripe age of 12 (not something I’m proud of, perhaps on another ranting sessions we can talk about that), I’ve definitely seen some weird things when it comes to fanfiction. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love it, think it’s a beautifully creative way of interacting with a piece of media (when it’s inherently fictional and not based of real people or events, and, of course, when it’s well written and thoughtful), but it can also be very damaging on the ones consuming it.

Taking the Marauders fandom as an example, the amount of actual canon information we have on them is infimal. The ability an entire community had to create a very complicated backstory and practically entirely new characters out of thin air is amazing, especially once its main source is a racist transphobic hag, and the fandom is so detached from it that it's composed of the very people she claims to hate. We took literal 0 information from old and plot-hole-full books and made it our own.

For another, since there’s no actual foundation on what the characters originally were like, it’s very hard to sort wrong from right when it comes to characterizations and creating material for the stories (I refuse to talk about shifting here cmh). There are also very bad headcanons, in which completely change the essence of the character to satisfy some personal goal or even comes from some intrinsic fetishizing. A perfect example of this is Remus Lupin, who ever since 2005 was a very recluse, shy, lanky and depressed character, turned into this breathtakingly beautiful, horrifyingly tall, toxic-angry jock. A roadman, really? At first it was ok, only a different POV on a widely loved character. But then it became the only thing about him, and when he wasn’t, people started complaining. What? When did being toxic to your boyfriend and treating him like an incapable and fragile human being (which is exactly what some fans are doing to Sirius nowadays btw) became the standard? We used to be so much better than that. Not to mention when, just by being bookish, people treat him like some sort of all-knowing god that nothing goes past. C’mon!

Talking about the role “All The Young Dudes” by MsKingsBean89 had in the modern generation of the fandom, it being really groundbreaking and a real work of art. I think this is where the current RJL vision came from. The difference, however, is when the lovely author put in the very beginning notes that his personality was heavily affected by growing up in a boys-only care home, not having a mom or dad or good authority figures to relate to. 

That‘s why, in that very specific scenario, Remus was sort of a douche. But he got better-ish, even as a traumatized grownup. People run with that through every treadmill ever, and, no backstory to build the character on, just took the specificity and banalized it to the fours. It’s actually an insult to MKB that people would read her hard work as such shallowness. 

To sum up, it’s very important to analyze and criticize the media you're interacting with, via reading, writing, reviewing or whatever. Is that really the healthiest this storyline can be? Do I feel compelled to that relationship and not wonder about the dynamic or the unintentional flaws in it? Why do I want my favorite character and the one I relate to to be toxic? Is this really the way said person would react to the situation? And in the end, when you don’t recognize that chr. anymore is when you know you lost them to the deep filth of the internet. I’m not saying every character or world build should be flawless and almighty, far from that actually, just that sometimes you need to know when things have gone too far. It’s very hard to want realism when referring to Harry Potter fanfiction of all things, but even fantastic worlds have their batch of decency and, in the human side of things, reaching a byline.

[princesachicana]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞? (conrad fisher x reader)

description: when a one night stand turns serious, because of a positive pregnancy test.

pt.2

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck

You brought your hand up to your mouth muffling your cries, this couldn’t be happening you were always careful! You made sure of it, how could this happen?

A knock on the door startled you. “What?” You yelled at the person outside of the bathroom door. “Woah, chill sis was just checking if you fell in you been in there for awhile.” Your brother Steven laughed behind the door only aggravating you further. “Just leave me alone!” You said voice cracking at the same time.

As you heard his footsteps trail away you looked back down at the stick in your hand. This was just supposed to relax your state of mind, that’s why you bought the pregnancy test. This whole month you had a funny feeling inside you, but you couldn’t really put your mind as to why. But once the date of your period passed without any thing is when you put it all together. But you were an over thinker so you said “I can’t possibly be pregnant, maybe my period is just late!”

Your past self was definitely laughing right now. You were pregnant. But that wasn’t even the worst part. You were pregnant with a really good family friend, one you practically grew up with. One that you were pretty sure if your brother found out he’d so much as touched you, he’d kill.

Conrad Fisher had gotten you pregnant.

~

You’ve been avoiding him and he knows it. And that is really making him even more grumpier than he usually is. The beach house this summer was supposed to make y’all even closer, well that’s what he was hoping for at least. But with you nearly running out of every room he steps in that was becoming quite a challenge. So to put it mildly he was pissed at you, pissed that you couldn’t even look at him, pissed that you were able to have a conversation with his brother, pissed that you were acting like that night never happened.

A month before summer at the beach house would begin, You and Conrad met up without any of your family. You didn’t tell anyone of them. You had just broken up with your boyfriend of a year after he cheated on you and you just wanted an escape. So you called Conrad and he immediately wanted to see you, you both agreed to meet halfway. You met at some random quite sketchy hotel in your opinion. And spilled your heart out to him, he knew that boyfriend of yours was no good from the beginning.

And when he slowly leaned in for a kiss, you didn’t stop him. That night you slept together, you clearly remember using protection, and you were also on the pill so you didn’t think anything of it the next morning. “Let’s just forget this ever happened alright!” You pleaded with Conrad the next morning. Of course, that night awoke feelings you didn’t know you had for Conrad. But it would be to complicated with you just ending a relationship and especially with your extremely protective brother. So he agreed even though that was the last thing he wanted to do.

You were currently reading a book outside by the pool, well reading was a stretch, you’ve been on the same page for about 30 minutes. Every time you tried to decipher a paragraph your mind would go running towards a very obvious situation. You were pregnant and you still haven’t told anyone.

The fear of disappointing everyone plagued your conscience. The Conklin’s adopted you at the very young age of 5. So disappointing them made you nauseous or was that the pregnancy? You and belly were inseparable since the beginning, you think being the same age as her helped a lot. But with Steven it was a whole different story, he refused to acknowledge you as a “real” sister for a long time. Every-time he introduced belly as his sister and you stood to the side awkwardly it hurt.

But that was over now he was the best brother you could of ever asked for. It’s like he was making up for all the years he treated you terribly.

The sound of a door closing pulled you from your thoughts, the sight of Conrad sent shivers throughout your body. You quickly moved to storm away. “Don’t even think about it.” he mumbled sitting in the pool chair beside your own. “I actually have to go-“ You attempted to lie. “Stop bullshitting y/n” You sighed closing your eyes, hoping this sudden nausea would roll away. “You’ve been ignoring me” he sounds hurt and that makes you feel even worse. “I’m just going through a lot okay?” you spoke quietly.

“Like what?” Conrad shook his head. “Is he bothering you again?” The he was referring to was of course your asshole of an ex boyfriend. “I told you to block his number! you never listen to me.” Conrad began to ramble. “I swear the god if he doesn’t leave you the fuck alone I’m gonna-“

It was pure word vomit, not actual throw up that would be mortifying. But that’s how it felt when you quickly confessed what’s been eating at you inside.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words stopped Conrad’s rant immediately.

Please say something. Please say something. you repeated the phrase in your mind.

“Is it mine?” Conrad replied sounding panicky.

“What do you think Conrad?” You whispered, looking down, your eyes filling with tears “But I’m really scared, so I need you to be here for me okay?” Conrad immediately grabbed your hand, the touch lighting you on fire, his finger tips softly massaging over your knuckles.

“Of course, whatever you decide.”

TAGS: @kayreblogs @florencepughsslut

[ijustloveharry]

HOW COULD HE DO THIS / pt 2 / 3k words

thanks for the love xx here's part 2!

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

Y/N woke the next morning alone. She wasn't sure if Harry had left or if he slept on the couch - but she had been laying in her bed for over an hour because she was too scared to find out.

What were they supposed to do now?

Even if she was willing to stay with him, how would it work?

Her heart told her to try to fix it; her brain told her to stop being stupid. Usually her gut was the deciding factor but the only thing she felt was nauseous.

Finally getting the courage, she padded out of her bedroom and into the living room.

Harry wasn't there.

Part of her was relieved, and the other part of her was disappointed.

He had left a letter on the counter, but she couldn't bring herself to read it. She pulled the ice cream tub from the freezer and plopped on the couch. She figured there wouldn't be a better day to have ice cream for breakfast.

Today she felt more rational. She felt like she could really figure out if she could ever get past this or if he really pushed her too far. They had been together for four years, and he hadn't come close to making any major mistakes until now.

Y/N did what any rational person would do the day after someone destroys you; she made a pros and cons list.

Pro: He's Harry styles

Con: He's a dirty cheater

Pro: He treats you well

Con: Until he fucking cheated

Pro: You've invested four years into this

Con: He risked FOUR YEARS by fucking cheating

That got her nowhere, obviously, and she sighed in frustration as she was left even more confused than when she started. She was clearly angry. Sure, she was hurt, but anger was the only thing surfacing right now.

She decided to go to the gym, hopefully that could help her let some of it out.

Y/N packed her gym bag and decided to head to a different gym than usual. Harry always went with her when he was in town - they got a private space, of course, but she didn't want to think about him right now.

Walking into the unfamiliar space, she glanced around and looked for an open treadmill. None. She groaned.

She decided to start with a stretch, hoping that a machine would be vacant when she was done. Y/N was about to pop her headphones in before a familiar voice called her attention.

"Hey - I know you!"

Y/N looked at the source, and saw the same man from the night before. James? Justin?

"Jesse." He said knowingly. "Y/N, right?"

"Yeah" She said, and he took a seat on the mat next to her.

"What the fuck are the chances, hey?"

Minimal, Y/N thought. She hoped he wasn't stalking her.

"Hope you're not stalking me, I workout here everyday and I've never seen you here."

That made her laugh, and it lightened her chest just enough to remind her that she might be okay. She can still laugh. She can still have fun.

"Trying something new, actually. Guess it was meant to be."

"Guess so." He grinned, mirroring her stretches. "I'm here with my friend - er, or whatever"

He indicated to one of the guys on the treadmill.

"Complicated?" Y/N asked

"Very." Jesse smiled sheepishly "He's confused."

"Him and I both." Y/N sighed

"Can I get your number? I meant to ask yesterday but we er- got a bit sidetracked."

"Sure." She said, typing the digits into his phone.

Y/N was kind of relieved to have someone to talk to. She had been ignoring her friends and it was nice to see someone who knew what was going on.

"How are you?" He asked, standing to stretch out his arms

"Been better" She laughed "Harry was outside my apartment when you dropped me off yesterday."

Jesse wasn't looking at her though, and Y/N turned her head to where he was looking.

The TV was playing some trashy gossip show, one she normally wouldn't pay attention to. This time she did. The photos of Harry were up on the screen, the current topic of discussion whether or not he was a cheater or if everyone had been wrong about him actually even having a mysterious girlfriend.

"Guess all Harry's are cheaters, huh?"

Y/N gulped and shrugged, pulling her gaze from the photos she had been trying so hard not to think about.

"Guess so." She mumbled

"What do you do?" He asked "For work, I mean."

Y/N was grateful for the change of subject.

"I'm getting a master's degree in marine biology." She explained "I go back for my last year in September. Right now I'm working as a scuba instructor."

"Oh - that's super fucking cool."

It is super fucking cool, Y/N thought, but she didn't feel the need to say that. "What about you?"

"I'm getting a business degree" He shrugged, offering no further information. "Don't know what I want to do so figured it could be the most universal."

"That's very true." Y/N agreed. She wondered how old he was.

"Do you wanna do something? I was going to do a group class at 11 but I could blow it off."

"Like what?" She asked

"I dunno. There's a cool coffee shop down the road"

"I think coffee will amp me up a bit too much, I came here to blow off some steam." She admitted "But I could just get a water or whatever."

"Well if you want to blow off steam, I have a pretty good idea.."

Y/N raised her eyebrows "Thought you were gay?"

Jesse blushed, realizing how he had sounded.

"Uh" He cleared his throat "Yeah - I meant, I know a place that you could get some anger out. Smashing things, axe throwing, that kind of stuff."

Y/N laughed at his flustered state. They could be friends, she thought.

"Yeah, let's go."

~~~~~~~~

It did help her blow off steam.

She used Harry's emergency credit card and bought out the whole showroom - $1050 to be exact. She smashed glass plates and toilet seats and everything they had into tiny pieces. She whacked the baseball bat around with everything she had and she felt so, so much better afterwards.

"Hell yeah." Jesse cheered, high-fiving her as she finished with the last items.

"That's exactly what I needed."

"Good." He smiled "Hey - isn't that Harry Styles?"

Y/N immediately froze, and Jesse noticed the change in her stature.

"Y/N" Harry said calmly. She had yet to turn around to face him

"Wait you know him?" Jesse asked, baffled. He was excited, Y/N assumed he must be a fan.

"Yes." She sighed, turning to face the man she had finally just forgotten about.

"Harry fucking Styles." Jesse said under his breath "Harry! Ohhh, damn."

She winced as the wheels turned in Jesse's head. His eyes narrowed at Harry.

"Hey - I used to really like you and all that so it totally sucks that you're a huge dick"

Harry's jaw clenched at the man beside her, and Y/N silently prayed Jesse would stop.

"Y/N is fucking great-"

"I know. I don't need you to tell me that." Harry said between his teeth.

"Well, apparently you do." Jesse retorted

"How'd you even find me here, Harry?" Y/N hoped to stop the two men from going at it.

"You used my credit card." He said simply

"Yeah - I kinda figured you owed me." She mumbled.

"Sure." He said. He didn't really know why he came here.

"Okay... Is that all, or?" Y/N was starting to get annoyed.

"I just needed to see you." He pleaded.

"Should've thought about that before you cheated in front of the whole world" Jesse muttered. Harry's eyes snapped to him

"Who the hell are you again?" He growled. Y/N stepped in front of Jesse.

"Okay - Harry, let's just go outside, yeah?"

He didn't move, though, he kept his eyes locked onto Jesse.

The two stared at each other for what felt like hours, and Y/N shifted uncomfortably between them.

"You don't have to go anywhere with him, you know." Jesse said to her, and Y/N knew he meant well but wished they would both just shut the hell up.

"Why don't you just mind your own business, mate." Harry growled, his annoyance growing my the second.

"You don't need to be so rude." Y/N snapped back. "I'm leaving now."

"Let me drive you-" Both of them said, stopping to glare at the other.

"Can you just fuck off, please?" Harry snapped at Jesse, who just glared back.

"Think you're the one who should fuck off, mate." Jesse mocked.

It was then Y/N walked away. She was supposed to be taking the edge off, and this was not helping.

"I'll find my own ride." Y/N said simply, she couldn't believe either of them thought they were helping.

"Now look what you've done." Harry rolled his eyes, and Jesse looked at him flabbergasted.

"Look what I've done? We've had a great time and you came in and ruined her whole mood." Jesse snapped "I don't even know her that well and can tell she doesn't want to see you"

Something in Harry snapped at that, and while Y/N didn't see it, she heard the impact. She turned around to see Jesse on the floor, holding the side of his face

"Let's go." He growled at her, pulling on her arm. She ripped herself from his grasp.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? No- I'm not going anywhere with you." Y/N said "You should just go."

"Y/N-"

"Just fucking go - Harry. I don't want to see you. Stop calling me, stop finding me, just fucking go." She said calmly. She didn't want to escalate anything further than it had been.

Harry sighed in defeat and left, offering an apology to Jesse before he walked away.

"I'm so sorry Jesse" Y/N cried once Harry was gone "I don't even know what the fuck just happened."

"I do." Jesse smirked "He was jealous."

He removed his hand from his face, revealing a forming bruise on his left eye.

"Oh my god" She cried harder "What the fuck"

"It's all good." Jesse shrugged "I can take it. I egged him on, I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be sorry" She mumbled, wiping her under eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.

Y/N had never been afraid of Harry. She wasn't sure she really was, she didn't think he would hurt her, but she had never seen him be violent and was shocked anyone could push him that far.

Maybe she didn't know him very well.

~~~~~~~~~~

Of course someone had recorded it.

'Harry Styles fist fight' was trending almost everywhere, and Y/N couldn't be more humiliated.

You could see her very clearly in the photos and videos. You could hear Jesse's remarks. The whole world knew now.

They had never been photographed together, ever. He was very careful, very particular, and wanted to keep her separate so it didn't make things more messy for their relationship. Paps were aggressive, fans were aggressive, and Y/N had gained over 500,000 followers on instagram that same day.

She locked herself in her room. She had countless notifications from strangers and multiple unanswered texts from her loved ones. She lost her job. Negative publicity never did good things for regular people.

The internet applauded Harry for 'defending her honour'. People assumed she had been cheating first and that Harry just snapped. Others assumed she had cheated with Jesse to get back at him. Most agreed Jesse must've deserved it. It's all people were conspiring about.

Y/N was furious. She didn't understand what was going through his head and she couldn't believe he allowed her name to get out there like this.

He didn't call her.

Granted, she told him not to. But she figured he would reach out given the circumstances.

She didn't know what to do. She had some money saved, she could be fine for a few months. This wouldn't wreck her schooling or her career. She could sell a statement if things got bad. She was lucky money wasn't her biggest concern.

Her phone buzzed on the side table and she groaned at the thought of someone else she knew asking her why she didn't tell them she was dating Harry Styles.

Can't believe there is photos of me getting my ass beat by Harry Styles

She smiled at Jesse's text.

Wasn't an ass beating, but yeah, not your best look.

Made Trevor super jealous though. Makes no sense.

Trevor = treadmill boy.

Maybe he was jealous you blew off blowing him to smash shit with some random girl.

Don't think thats it.

Y/N wasn't sure what that meant.

I think you should forgive him.

Y/N was appalled by that

Wtf why would I do that

I think he really loves you

Y/N rolled her eyes

Too much maybe.

Can never love too much.

Ok

I'm being serious. He's hurting

I don't feel bad for him

You shouldn't. But you should call him, at least see if he's ok

Did he hit your head too hard

No, maybe reading too much fanfiction tho

Y/N snorted, so he was a fan.

Was getting punched by Harry Styles on your bucket list or something?

Maybe

Weirdo

I just think he's desperate and desperate people have really stupid ideas

I'm not desperate so I'm not sure I should go along with your stupid ideas

Hey!

Y/N smiled to herself

hey

Just think about it

okay, jeez

thank u.

Y/N plugged her phone in, ending the conversation there. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to think after that.

Sighing, she got up from the bed and headed to get a drink from the fridge. She paused as she saw the unopened letter on the counter. She hesitated before opening it.

Y/N

I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't know how to forgive myself so I don't know how you could move past it either.

Please meet me for lunch? Our favourite spot? Noon? We don't have to talk, we don't have to do anything. Just come if you feel you want to or there is any part of you that thinks this can be fixed.

I love you,

H.

Y/N breathed out. Clearly she didn't show up for lunch, and she tried to push down the guilt she was beginning to feel.

"No" She said to herself aloud. It wasn't her fault she didn't want to read it, and it's wasn't her fault he reacted the way he did.

She did decide to call him, though.

"Hey" He answered solemnly. She could tell he wasn't himself right now

"Hey." Y/N but her lip. She didn't know what she wanted to say. "I just read your letter."

Harry let out a breath, but didn't say anything right away.

"Oh."

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't know what it was going to say when I saw it there yesterday and just didn't really wanna read it yet. Obviously, I didn't realize."

"It's okay." He assured. "I'm really sorry about yesterday."

"Yeah." was all she said. He should be sorry.

"I don't know what came over me." He admitted

"I dunno, H, but it was fucking whack." She was biting her lip hard now. She really didn't know where she was hoping this would go.

"Yeah." He said. They sat in silence for a moment.

"It was an employee." He broke the silence "That sold the footage."

"Oh." She replied. Who cares?

"I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Well it did, Harry."

He sighed. "Yeah, I've been on calls all day about how I'm supposed to fix this."

"And how are you supposed to fix this." She said. It was a statement more than a question. He couldn't fix this. Her name was already out.

"I can't." He said. "Not anything I'm willing to say, I guess just let it blow over."

She was angry at that, and decided not to hide it.

"I'm so glad it'll just blow over for you, Harry, but my entire fucking life just changed and I'm not sure that it'll ever go back."

"I know." He whispered. She could tell he was crying.

"How could you do this? Did you really think that was going to make it any better?"

"I wasn't thinking at all." He admitted

"Clearly." She rolled her eyes.

"You didn't show up for lunch, I got the notification about the credit card and I just drove there. I didn't think about any of it. I just wanted to see you and try." He rambled "And then you were there with some fucking guy-"

"Some guy is named Jesse, and we're literally just friends Harry. I met him at the bar two days ago and the fact that you even found him threatening is absolutely insane. Do you think I would do that? Do you think I could? We haven't even broken up yet-" Y/N was crying now

"I didnt-"

"You didn't what, Harry? You didn't think? You hadn't thought about that? That's all you've been saying. That's not good enough. You should be thinking about me. But you've only been thinking about yourself, and that's the problem."

Harry was silent at that.

"Yeah, okay. You're right."

"I don't know what to tell you or how could you possibly fix this but I know that whatever is going through your head is absolutely not working for me." Y/N sighed "I just need space, Harry. I need space to stop being so fucking angry so I can see if I can even stomach forgiving you."

"Okay." He finally said "Okay, I'll leave you alone, Y/N, I promise."

Tears were spilling down her cheeks. Is this what she wanted?

"I'll call you Harry, when I'm ready. I promise I will." She meant that. Either way, she would tell him how she feels.

"I have to go." He gulped. "A few things I have to do for work."

"Sure." She sighed.

"I-" Harry hesitated and Y/Ns heart shattered at that.

"I love you too, Harry. But I think that's my issue right now. Loving you hurts too much."

Harry hung up the phone and rested his head in his hands. He only waited a moment before making the call he was sure he'd regret.

~~~~~~~

Y/N's new job started a little over a week later. Didn't take her long to find something that was out of public access, somewhere that wouldn't get bombarded with calls and emails asking for information about her. No one would know she's hidden away in the back.

She was working in a small aquarium, identifying fish that had been rescued and direcing them to the proper rehabilitation centers in the country. She liked it way more than scuba diving.

She had her headphones in, rummaging through a textbook as she listened to Taylor Swift. Classic breakup anthems to help her through.

Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it. She was on the clock; couldn't be that important.

But then it buzzed again. And again. and again.

She groaned and finally gave in, pulling it from her back pocket.

Jesse Hey, did you see this?

Mariana Ummm ok Harry tho?? maybe I take back the long rants from before - if you don't take him back, pls give him my number

Bethany Yo did you see that Harry interview.... sorry to bring it up if you did but didn't want you to be blindsided if not. text me back!!!

Dad why does this harry boy have your name in his mouth

Brotha do we need to beat up Harry Styles or are you believing his stuntin ass

Harry hope I didn't cross any lines x I love you

Y/N stared at the screen silently as she debated watching it. She only had 16 minutes left in her shift but she wasn't sure she could wait that long.

Sighing, she clicked the video and held her breath as it began to play.

"Harry!" The host cheered as he came out. Harry looked good, really good, and Y/N cursed his stylist for doing this to her heart.

"Hello." He smiled. Y/N was sure she couldn't be the only one who knew it wasn't genuine.

"So, what's up?" The host raised his eyebrows "Got some new music coming out?"

"Not quite." Harry fiddled with his rings. He was nervous. "A couple movies, though."

"So I've heard. Not sure they can top your latest performance, though."

The screen behind played the clip of Harry's fist hitting Jesse, and Y/N winced at the impact. She hadn't seen the video yet, and it looked much worse than it seemed at the time.

"Yeah... Not my best moment" He said sheepishly. He didn't look up at the screen.

"Wanna tell me what's going on here?" The host trailed, prying for more

"Just like the final straw in'na huge series of mistakes, i guess."

Y/N couldn't tear her eyes away from how he was playing with his hands. He was very nervous.

"Vague, okay. Can you tell me who this is" The screen zoomed in to Y/N's face, catching the exact moment she realized what had gone on. She looked scared, she looked upset. Harry had never seen her look at him like that; It made him sick.

"Biggest mistake." There was a ghost of a smile on his face "I fucked up pretty bad and I guess this was my way of trying to make it up to her. Didn't work."

"Can't imagine why." The host joked

The screen flashed to the pictures of him on the beach

"Fucked up like... this?" The host asked, and Harry turned to look this time

"Yeah. They're real, to settle the debate. I cheated, and have never regretted anything more in my life."

"Damn, can't believe I didn't even know you had a girlfriend. I've been giving your number out to loads of girls who I thought you'd pair nice with."

"Thanks" Harry deadpanned "But I only have eyes for her"

"For.. her?" The screen flashed back to the earlier photo of Y/N and her stomach knotted. She hated that people knew who she was.

"Y/N, yeah." Harry said, running his hands through his hair. "There isn't much to say about it, yeah? She was perfect and it was great and I fucked it up. I tried to fix it and I fucked it up even worse."

"Well I don't know about that." The host said, the screen flashed back to the punch. "You look like a hero to me"

Something flashed in Harry, and his nostrils flared.

"That doesn't make me a hero. That doesn't make me brave. It's bad enough I have to see my lowest point back on video, but people applauded this like it's okay?" Harry licked his lips, trying to remain his composure. "Her face in that video broke my fucking heart. It doesn't make me big or manly. It makes me a coward and I'll be lucky if she ever looks at me again. She doesn't need me to defend her. She doesn't need me at all - and now she doesn't even want me, so I'm not sure why anyone thinks that this is impressive."

Y/N was surprised at Harry's vulnerability. He always shared as little as possible and he never commented on the things people said about him.

"Wow - damn. I guess yeah." The host clearly wasn't expecting that, indicating to Y/N that Harry had went off script. She couldn't help but wonder what he was supposed to say.

"It's nobody's business, and obviously I run that risk with my work, but that has nothing to do with her." He stated plainly "My mistakes aren't her mistakes. I loved her - I'm in love with her, and I fucked it up and that's the whole story."

The host nodded in agreement, and strategically narrowed the interview towards a fight scene in his upcoming movie. Y/N stopped the video there and sat in silence for a moment.

She knew this was for her. It would have blown over for him- he said it to her himself. But he would rather his reputation tank than have her name out there as anything other than the narrative he could steer it to.

Y/N cried, then. Y/N AND HARRY was trending on twitter and she couldn't bring herself to click on it. She had gained another hundred thousand followers on instagram and she wanted to throw her phone in the fish tank and just leave the face of the earth.

But she didn't. She called Harry.

"Hi" He said softly

"Hey"

"Sorry - I hope I didn't make it worse."

"You didn't." She admitted. She wasn't going to tell him that he made it any better, though. "Can I see you?'

Harry was silent for a moment. This wasn't his motive - he wasn't trying to fix anything this time. He just needed them all to stop.

"Are you sure?" He finally asked "Cuz I wasn't trying-"

"I know you weren't. And no, I'm not sure. But I want to come over, is that okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's okay."

"Okay, I'm on my way."

[lovelywritinglady]

Why? Pt.1

Hisoka x reader

Angst, hurt, a sprinkle of fluff. Hisoka tells you that he no longer loves you…

Your pov

Why? That’s the question I keep asking myself. Why did he go? What did I do? That night replays in my head like a broken record. It drains me and it makes me ill. He made so many promises to me. Promises I knew he wouldn’t keep, but I thought maybe I’d be different. Maybe I could be the one he could love. I have so much, but got nothing in return. Now he’s gone. Probably off with someone else saying the same things he said to me. Hisoka is a liar and a true heartbreaker. But I truly cannot see myself not loving him. It’s been three months since I’ve seen him or even heard anything from him. But what do I care? He’s the one that left. I can’t keep crying into my pillow at night wishing he was there. He’s never coming back and it’s time to move on. 

Truth is, moving on isn’t as easy as I wanted it to be. I’m currently working at the bakery I’ve worked at for years. Serving customers as I normally would. Putting on my pretty fake smile and voice so that no one can see my raging pain. He “loved” me more than anyone I had ever been with before. He showed me things that I would’ve never seen if it weren’t for him. My chest feels like a open would that will never heal no matter what I try. My boss, Kyo, is starting to notice how I drift off into my own thoughts. She never says anything, but I know she’s worried. She’s always been so caring. Kyo was the first person I went to after Hisoka left. I never told her what happened and she never asked. I appreciate that from her because I wish I didn’t have to constantly remember that night…

Three months ago…

I waited for him like I always did. Hisoka never stayed for more than a week at a time. Always saying he had work to do and how important it was. I never questioned him about it because I understood the importance of my own job.

I suddenly heard the front door open. Sitting up from the couch I greeted him with the same sweet smile I always gave him. Despite his absence, I still loved him. And I always had hope that once his job was done, we could go back to how we were before.

This time was different, he didn’t smile back. In fact he looked at me like I was a total stranger. He stood there with the door still open staring at me not saying a word. It’s was strange and I swear I got a chill down my spine from the intensity. My throat got dry and my anxiety was high. I knew something was wrong, but I never could imagine the words that wold come out of his mouth…

“I have no need for you any longer. You are far too weak for someone like me. You no longer interest me. Look at you. You’re a mess. You look like you’ve aged since I’ve been gone. Thankfully after tonight I will never have to lay a single eye on your pathetic self.” Hisoka said with laced with venom.

I froze. I couldn’t move. All those years of “I love you’s.” All those years of him saying I didn’t need to be strong that my love was strong enough. How beautiful I was to him. How he told me he cared for me. Now, all gone with a single paragraph of hurtful words.

“Why?” I whispered

“Like I said I have no use for you any longer.” Hisoka spoke

My heart shattered with his words. He meant it. He was telling the truth. This was as serious as I’ve ever heard him. My eyes poured and my body felt hot. Hisoka just stood there watching. Staring at my broken figure. Finally, after a few minutes, he turned around and walked out of my life forever…

Back to present…

Back out of my daze I finally noticed a customer staring at me with an uncomfortable expression on their face. I quickly apologized and received their order. As much as I want to move on and know I should. I still cannot get over him. But I will try because that’s all I can do. He’s gone and he’s never coming back. He never loved me, he only used me until he got bored of me. Never again will I allow anyone to treat me with such heartbreak.

But I still ask myself… “Why?”

*Third person pov*

What you didn’t know, was Hisoka was there. He was dressed in average street clothing. His hair was down and his makeup removed to show his rather pale but handsome complexion. He was peaking through the bakery window. Enough to see you, but not enough for you to see him. Watching you with a melancholy expression. He had been coming to that same spot every day since he broke your heart. He broke your heart because he was threatened and he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to fight alone. No one knew the two of you were together, but it was only a matter of time. Hisoka regrets what he did. And if time allows and the threat is gone… he vowed to do everything to win back your heart and fix the shattered pieces. He never understood how you made him love you. All he can think of is your love and your passion and a single word that constantly swims in his mind… “Why?”

Thank you for reading ❤️

Part 1/ Part 2

*I do NOT own any characters except y/n*

Please feel feee to request, comment, and reblog

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

-L.W.L

[coweye]

Guys My Age - PT.1

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x Miller!Reader Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: After four years away, you return home to realise that maybe everything you’ve been looking for was right in front of you all along.

Warnings: Mention of depression, Slow burn - no smut yet but it will eventually be horrifically filthy 18+ only pls gang, LEGAL Age Gap. 

Note: This bad bois been worming its way to the surface for a while now, hope you enjoy! 💕 I apologise in advance for the slow burn.

⇢MASTERLIST

Life was strange sometimes.

Here you were, back in the hometown you’d sworn never to return to after four years away, flanked by your older brother Benny. 

Two thirds of the Miller gang back together, reunited or at least you had been.

“I’ma get us a table, you order the drinks.” Ben muttered distractedly whilst scouting out potential tables.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be destitute, the least you could do is get the first round in.” The sad thing is, you’re only half joking. He rolled his eyes at your expense, before handing you his credit card and continued on his journey to get a table, presumably with a great view of the blonde woman he’d spotted upon entry to the bar. Benny was predictable if nothing else, it was part of his charm. 

So, you pushed your way forward through the throng of warm bodies, Friday night at Flanagans was a nightmare but you had agreed to be sociable as Santiago was in town, so you’d made the sacrifice and took a night off from your crushing depression to don a nice t-shirt and apply makeup for the first time in the two weeks since moving into Will’s back room.

You smiled what you hoped was a somewhat friendly lift of your lips at the bartender and ordered two beers, as you were waiting you heard the familiar call of Santiago Garcia - the man who you’d spent your teen years obsessed with. 

He was gorgeous inside and out, though your crush had morphed into something a lot more wholesome and you had a genuine platonic love for the man, as an extension of your brothers.

“How have you been, guapa? God, long time no see!” He all but cried, clearly already a couple of beers in as wrapped you in a strong hug, pulling you onto your tiptoes. He wasn’t lying, you hadn’t seen Santiago in two maybe three years ago now. 

Time had gotten away from you and your visits had become less and less frequent, especially with the boys being deployed, you couldn’t say you were happy to be back, but it was certainly nice to see them all again.

“I know, damn, you got old!” You chuckle as his face straightens out in feigned hurt. “Like fine wine, Santi, Fine wine!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stop flirting, you two.” Will grumbles as he slides through the crowd to lean on the bar beside you, lifting three fingers up to the bartender who had already placed the pints of beer before you. 

“Where have you been?” You question raising an eyebrow “I’ve been back at least two weeks.”

“I’ve been in Australia for a little while, it's nothing serious but-”

“Pope’s got a girlfriend now, Squirt.” The low voice is a new one, but only one person used to call you that awful nickname. 

You turn to see Francisco Morales behind you, his eyes are older than the rest of him but still irrevocably kind and he has an easy smile painted on his lips. You can’t quite remember him being this handsome as your eyes drink him in, perhaps you’d been blinded by the effortless beauty of Santiago as a teen but my god, Catfish had almost floored you. 

“Frankie!” You smile - all teeth, trying somewhat successfully for an air of normalcy despite your brain processing the change that five years has had on your taste in men and pulling him in for his own hug. 

You tried to stop yourself, you honestly did but as you breathed in, the smell of him overtook you, the spicy scent of cinnamon and sweet vanilla; the man somehow smelled like a goddamn cupcake and you had the biggest sweet tooth. 

Locking your inner sex offender deep down inside a box so as to not assault the man you’d held in a hug for what was becoming longer than appropriate, you pulled away. 

“A girlfriend?” You question, your brain scrambling for something to talk about other than those brown eyes. You can’t help the smirk that sneaks its way across your lips as you tease the man before you. “Santiago Garcia, have you gone soft on me in your old age?”

He huffs as he grabs his beer. “Fuck off, baby Miller.” 

The three of you chortle in response to his defeated tone as he walks towards the table Ben has secured. Will grabs at his wallet, hand coming out to stop you in confusion when you hold out a card to pay. 

You shake your head and shrug. “Ben’s treat.” 

That kills any argument on his tongue as he picks up his drink and follows Santi’s lead. You can’t help but chuckle at your brothers, you had missed them both so much. 

You’re very quickly aware of Frankie lingering to your left, waiting for you to finish paying, ever the gentleman. 

You turn to him as the machine processes the transaction. 

“Your-”

“How-” You both chuckle, the two of you have always been the quiet ones of the group, more observant with witty one liners thrown in than the loud mouths currently chatting at your table. 

It seems years apart haven’t helped either of your awkwardness.

“You go…” You dismiss with a quick laugh when he waits for you to speak.

“I was just gonna say, it's nice to have you back!” He shrugged before gesturing to side of him “After you,” 

Frankie creates a barrier with his body for your fellow thirsty patrons who want your spot at the bar. You pick up yours and Bens drinks and turn to find the guys. 

Frankie’s hand finds your lower back as he guides you through, its innocuous enough, hell if you hadn’t been drooling over the man minutes before you wouldn’t have given it so much as a second thought, but that palm guarding you from the brunt of the crowd was like molten lava slowly burning your flesh. 

“W-Well, it’s good to be back! I’m not going anywhere in a hurry!” You pretty much shout over the deafening ambient chatter around you. His low voice is in your ear when he replies, you force yourself not to close the distance and push your spine into his chest, Frankie isn’t like that; Hell, he has a girlfriend and baby at home.

He’s just being friendly - he’s known you since you were seventeen. 

“You miss your friends back home?”

“They’re not my friends. None of those assholes let me sleep on their goddamn sofas.” Trying to break the tension only you seemed to be feeling with a joke, it seems to work as he chortles.

“Well you’re more than welcome to my sofa if Will ever gets too much, Squirt.” You couldn’t explain the things that this man saying the word squirt to you was doing. No matter the context, even if it was because you squirted slurpee from your nose when laughing too hard when you were a teenager. 

“I may hold you to that - he bit my head off the other day because I didn’t wash a glass the second I used it, I swear-” You’re cut off when you find the booth rather quickly, the raucous laughter from the rangers acting as a siren call.  You slide in beside Ben and turn to your other brother “-I was just telling Frankie, how much of a control freak you are.”

And because God hates you, Francisco slides in beside you. 

…

You were a grown woman and you had a ridiculous infatuation.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying either, after sitting in that bar you had made an effort to block out the sensation of his thigh against your own or when he leaned back against the plush fabric and wrapped his arm around the back of the booth.

But so help you god you were only human, you couldn’t help but laugh a little harder at his jokes than the others or the warmth that flooded your belly when you’d meet his eyes as you told a story and find his chocolate orbs transfixed on you as if you were telling a great tale - rather than an anecdote about how you dislocated your tailbone last year when you were drunk on some stairs.

It wasn’t even as if it was just his looks - though you were big enough to admit that initially that had been a large part of it.  It was the ease you felt around him, the kindness you could see clear as day painted on his face. 

Though you knew, deep down in your toxic heart of hearts, buried beneath your daddy issues and depression, this deep desire was because he wasn’t all that interested. 

It wasn’t as if he ignored you, no. He was friendly, but he had no interest in you besides just that, being a friend. 

He had a baby and a girlfriend and you weren’t a home wrecker.

He was your brother's best friend, an extension of your family. 

These were all things you reminded yourself about as you lay in bed alone staring up at the ceiling the morning after.

You could just be his friend, right?

⇢ Next Part

[ghostlysenses]

okay i have an idea for pt 3 of fake friends, you can honestly do whatever with it but here it is-

y/n is still angry at the trio even after coming to amends with everyone else, even with their own death in general, but one day they notice that one of them (probably tommy) just tries every night to talk to them, to apologize, he leaves small gifts that were either from their house or something he brought along with a “this reminded me of you”, he even once brought down a juke box and a disk and stayed up all night to try and talk.

finally its sunrise and tommy feels a cold hand on top of his, and a small voice going “it’s okay.” and he just starts to violently sob, apologizing over and over again, trying to explain himself over his cries in agony, and once the sun is fully risen he’s passed out on the blanket he brought with him, as the disk finally stops.

Oh... my... god I HAVE TO WRITE THIS!!!

Now this one i got on May 16th idk when this is going to be posted but im taking my time w it!! WHOO

Remember! requests are currently open!

Part two here! and you can find part one there too!

My Apology, Please forgive me

Tw; Mentions of death and suicide, angsty.

Its been a few months... You accepted your death and you've forgiven everyone whose ever wronged you...

Besides Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy.

You just couldn't, they broke your heart.

they were supposed to be your friends but... they thought otherwise

You were stuck forever under L'manhole

looking up from the glass...

Tommy himself was slowly being ditched by Tubbo and Ranboo...

his first thought when it happened his first thought was "was this what Y/N felt?'

He was hurt and distraught.

was this the pain he caused you?

he couldn't blame you for being mad at them when you felt this way... he just wished he could find a way to make it up to you..

he wished you were still here so he could talk to you

so he could have someone

but..

you did want to talk

you also wanted someone

and they ignored you

they ripped that from you and he will never forgive himself for that

he sits at the bench alone now, by himself... he imagines you sitting next to him sometimes.. laughing with him.. talking to him.

after he saw you that night he couldn't get the glare you had on your face out of his head.

you were pissed and he was too

He treated you poorly, he called you shit, he insulted you, he hurt your pride and confidence, he broke you, ignored you, and hurt you so bad that now... you're a ghost.

He knew he had to make it up to you

but you didnt want to see him

and he still tried

Tommy would leave things

He left a painting once “this reminded me of you”

a few days later he came back with a photo of you and him “I miss when you were here...”

a few days after that he came back with your adventuring backpack that you had lost in some old mine “I found this...I thought you’d like it back”

every day he would leave something...

and you dont know why

but you felt better...you didnt feel angry at him anymore...

there would be some nights where Tommy would come to the memorial, crying.

“Im so sorry... i should’ve been better, im a shit person”

“I wish you were here”

“you wouldve been the person there for me”

then he was gone for a few days....you heard he was trapped in the prison...

when he finally came back it was around 3am

he walked over and just sobbed

spilling everything from how dream treated him and what he did to him in the prison, to how he’s so sorry for putting you through so much hell

and he’s begging for any sign that your listening....

but you can’t reach him...

you keep trying though...

but nothing works...

when he’s done he apologizes for venting...then walks away

You have already forgiven Tommy by then, as it seemed he was the only one out of the trio who cared

and you felt terrible for what happened to him..

so that night and every night you kept trying to leave l’manhole

until you did...

you can go past the glass but only up to the opening of the hole in the glass that you caused

You can reach out of the memorial too.

This was going to be a pleasant surprise for Tommy

A few nights later Tommy comes back, he brought a juke box with him this time...

he sat the jukebox down and played Mellohi...

Your favorite...

a few moments later Tommy started crying...

“I wish you were here....Tubbo and Ranboo ditched me... I now know how you felt...and im so sorry for it...you didnt deserve to feel this way......I hope you know that I mean it when I say this but...you were my only true friend...and im so sorry i treated you so poorly..”

Big man TommyInnit apologizing?

damn

he started crying more, just repeating how sorry he is and how he wants you to come back

this went on for awhile....

Then you decided to comfort him

the sun was coming up and Tommy was to distracted by it to even care about his surroundings

“Im sorry y/n”

He felt something cold wrap around his torso, and something on his back

“I know Tommy....I forgave you along time ago...”

You had hugged him

he turned around and hugged you back..

tears in his eyes...

boy did he miss you.

[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (PT.3) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART THREE

Summary

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother. 

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

A/N: A little Iwa and Hoisuke sketch to accompany this chappie ❤ Thank you for all the love and support. My inbox has boomed since I last posted and I’m so grateful that it is being appreciated by y’all :,) <3 

ON TO PART THREE! Let me know what you guys think of this part :) xx

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART 

------

"Miss Y/N! You came!"

Hoisuke has a beam on his face the moment you step into the Iwaizumi household. That slightly calms your jittery nerves as you remove your shoes and step in, balancing the container of cookies in your hand.

"Hi Hoisuke," you greet back with a smile, "I brought your favourite cookies."

"Really?!"

"Really," you hand him the container with a grin, relishing as he oohs and aahs as he gets a whiff of the said baked treats. He beams up at you, "thanks miss Y/N. You're so cool."

"Not as cool as you are," you ruffle his hair and he giggles, before grabbing onto your hand and tugging you inside, "come, Daddy's warming up the pizza."

To be honest, part of you had combusted when you'd read over Iwaizumi's message repeatedly to make sure you weren't reading it wrong. The other part of you was screaming that this was definitely out of bounds and plus, could you consider this to be a sort of date?

No, of course not. Definitely not. He'd invited you over as a friend. And because Hoisuke liked you.

When you put it like that, it stung a little.

As Hoisuke drags you into the living space, you spot Iwaizumi grabbing for beers in the fridge and he nods at you, "hey."

"Hi," you reply, feeling a bit shy.

"The pizzas just got here," he says, chin jerking towards the pizza boxes already set upon the coffee table, surrounded by four plates, "a friend of mine is joining. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh no, not at all."

"Uncle Tooru! He's the best volleyball setter ever!" Hoisuke adds with a clap of his hands, eyes sparkling with excitement, "do you play volleyball miss Y/N?"

"Nope," you singsong, "I can't even catch a ball."

"But you always tell us to do well in PE."

"Do what I tell you and not--"

"Not what you do," Hoisuke sings along and you can't help but laugh before ruffling his hair fondly, "at least I know you're listening in class!"

"I always listen to you, miss Y/N."

"Unlike his father," Iwaizumi points out while walking over to the pair of you and handing you a beer can, "whom he never listens to."

"But you don't listen to me, daddy."

"Wha--yeah I do."

"Noooo uncle Tooru had to beg you to invite miss Y/N over when I told you a hundred times!"

You burst out into a fit of laughter just as Iwaizumi hollers out, "wha--No! That's--"

"Uncle Tooru said that you should man up and invite her otherwise he'll do it himself," his son chatters on, oblivious to the redness rising in his father's ears, "what does man up mean, miss Y/N?"

"Okay that's enough babbling," Iwaizumi's hand shoots out to press down onto Hoisuke's head. He nudges it towards the couch, "bring miss Y/N to the living room. Scoot."

"But--"

"Now." His father scowls. His son scowls back and you try to shove down the round of laughter bubbling up your throat, for they look like the spitting image of each other and they probably don't even know it.

You reach out, tugging Hoisuke by the shoulder, "come on then. What movie are we watching?"

It makes you slightly giddy on the inside to hear such words fall from Hoisuke's mouth. If there's one thing you've learnt from being around children is that they never lie. That, coupled with the way Iwaizumi's face has reddened a deep shade of tomato, is enough to cause a small tingling in your chest.

Since Oikawa is goig to be late, the three of you decide on watching Harry Potter -- Hoisuke's current obsession at the moment -- while munching on too-greasy pizza and washing it down with beer, coke for the minors. It's been a while since you've watched the series, thus finding yourself cheering and hollering along with Hoisuke which feels like you're seeing it for the first time all over again.

Multiple times, Hoisuke would turn and beam up at you, sometimes hugging your right arm and burying his face into your shoulder during action-packed scenes. You'd be lying to say you don't enjoy his warmth sticking to your side, sniffing the soft baby scent of his hair that still clings to him. The smell of childhood filled with innocence and maybe out of impulse, you pull him a little closer.

You're so immersed in the moment to notice the pair of coffee-coloured eyes are gazing at you with growing tenderness.

"Hellooo! Cool and Handsome Uncle Tooru is here!"

You jump at the sudden intruder's voice booming through the apartment, followed by Iwaizumi's scoff upon meeting your eyes. Hoisuke bounds up without delay, rushing to the door while crying out, "uncle Tooru!"

"Hi my beautiful boy!" Oikawa does not hesitate to sweep him up into his arms, kissing his cheek in affection and causing the child to giggle, "how's my favourite person doing? Has iwa-chan been treating you well?"

Hoisuke nods jovially, giggling some more when Oikawa pinches his cheek, "alright alright. You look dashing--oh, Iwa-chan! And this must be the famous Miss Y/N you've both been telling me about?"

You pink at his words but it doesn't faze Hoisuke in the least, "yeah! Isn't she pretty? She's the best teacher ever and her cookies are amazing!"

"H--Hi," you nod at Oikawa shyly, quickly avoiding his gaze to stop yourself from combusting with embarrassment. You've forgotten how beautiful this man actually is even though his reputation preceded him.

"Ahh it's nice to meet you Y/N," he flashes you a sweet smile, causing you to flush right down to your toes while you manage to stutter, "n--nice to meet you too, Oikawa-san."

"I see why Hoisuke and Iwa-chan like you," Oikawa turns to wink at Iwaizumi, "I approve!"

"Shut up Shittykawa," Iwaizumi scowls.

Oikawa gasps mockingly while covering Hoisuke's ears, "Iwa-chan! Not in front of the child and the lady!"

"I said fuck off--"

Oikawa's quick to slap his shoulder, hollering, "no swearing either! Oh gosh, excuse him Y/N. He gets very flamboyant whenever I'm around. If ever he does swear at you, it's just a matter of showing his affection."

You let out a laugh, spurred on by how red Iwaizumi's ears are, "I'll keep that in mind. I didn't know Hoisuke's dad was such a potty mouth," you say, narrowing your eyes playfully at the said man who scowls in return.

"Only when Oikawa's around," he states, crossing his arms over his chest with an expression that mimics his son's sulking.

"What's a potty mouth?" Hoisuke asks as he and Oikawa take their respective seats, the latter swiping a slice of pizza out of Iwaizumi's plate, who growls and kicks at his shin in turn.

The handsome man groans while you turn to Hoisuke, "potty mouth means someone who swears a lot."

"Like daddy?"

"Uhm--" you stutter, his response causing Oikawa to burst out laughing, "yes! What a bright little mind! Totally like your Uncle Tooru!"

Before Iwaizumi can bash Oikawa's head in, you hurriedly resume the movie with the excuse that the best part hasn't come up yet. That simmers down the atmosphere a little, all eyes now captivated by Harry Potter and his friends fighting against the ogre. Hoisuke gasps, nails digging into your arm as he latches on for dear life, all actions not going unnoticed by the pair of men.

"I like her," Oikawa mouths out to Iwaizumi, whose scowl deepens tenfold.

As per what the rumours stated, Oikawa is fun and easy-going to hang out with, a complete stark contrast to his best friend. You understand why people tend to gravitate towards him the more the evening wears on. It’s not just the fact that he puts you at ease and is naturally adept at making conversation, but it’s in the genuine spark of interest in his eyes, a look that says that he’s listening to you even if that might be faked on his part. It’s that expression stating that he cares, that makes you realize why Oikawa Tooru had been such a hotshot back in your high school days. 

So why do your eyes still manage to find their way to the brooding figure on the other side of the couch, who is filled with nothing but spiteful comments and sarcastic responses? 

Oikawa's little 'pssst' snaps your attention back to the present to find the sais man pointing at Hoisuke while mouthing "he's asleep." Indeed, your eyes travel down to Hoisuke's tiny figure slumped against your side and your mouth curves up in an affectionate smile.

You're about to shift him into your arms but Oikawa beats you to it, deftly slipping the boy into his arms and glancing between you and Iwaizumi with that same knowing smile that sets you on edge, "I'll tuck him to bed. Iwa-chan, buy me snacks would you?"

"Hell no--" Iwaizumi starts protesting only for Oikawa to walk out of the room, whistling softly without waiting for an answer. You sigh silently, pressing your lips together and glancing at Iwaizumi from the corner of your eye.

He averts his gaze, but not quickly enough, grunting softly, " wanna go?"

"To the convenience store?"

He nods, already moving to grab his jacket by the door as you scramble to join him while trying not to act so desperate to spend just a little more time with him.

The evening is colder than you'd expect, a mixture of wind and rain that makes him curse slightly while you hurriedly open up your umbrella the moment you step into the street. He nods, mutters a 'thanks' and guides you down the pavement where you jostle your way through evening strollers.

Quite surprised by the amount of movement on the street, you catch yourself asking, "is your neighbourhood always that busy?"

"I think there's a fancy fair around the corner," Iwaizumi sidesteps a man as he speaks, his shoulder brushing yours and sending warmth all the way down to your toes, "give me that."

Without warning, his hand engulfs yours holding the umbrella up and jumping at the contact, you quickly retract your hand, "thanks," you murmur, glad that the dark conceals the red splotches dotting your cheeks.

Your mind races to find something --anything -- to get you out of this awkward predicament. You'd die if he finds out how fast your heart is beating, "so uhm--Oikawa-san seems nice. You still keep in touch with him frequently then?"

"More like I can't get rid of his annoying ass," Iwaizumi mutters.

You chuckle, causing his eyebrow to quirk up, "what's so funny?"

"I'm just wondering whether Hoisuke will turn out like you when he grows up," you can't help but grin up at him, "you have a talent for dissing people."

"Only the ones worthy of my attention."

"Am I not worthy of your attention?" You tease.

He scowls down at you, "you're Hoisuke's teacher, that complicates things."

"In what way?" A passerby suddenly nudges against you and you stumble slightly, only to feel Iwaizumi's arm clasp your shoulder to steady you.

He's warm, your mind chants. And he smells good. Like citrus.

He, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice your flustered countenance, "watch it," he barks out. Then, he turns back to answer your question, "how do I know you won't make Hoisuke fail his grade if I upset you too much?"

"Woah there mister. I didn't know I was that low on your list."

"That's not what I meant," he growls. A few weeks before might have caused you to fear his temper. But things are different now and you've come to know that it's just in Iwaizumi's nature to be so rough around the edges.

So you just bump your shoulders against him, flash him an understanding grin, and say, "I get it, hothead. No need to get riled up."

"What'd you call me?!"

Bursting into fits of laughter at how easily triggered he gets, you reach up to ruffle his hair, "down, boy--"

And that's when it hits you -- you are touching Iwaizumi's hair. Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck.

Your hand drops like wildfire, body instantly cowering away with a furious blush, "I'm so sorry," you squeak out, "that was not appropriate I know--"

Someone else bumps into your back which knocks you straight into the said man's chest. His hands find your waist on instinct as he steadies you both and for a minute, the world stops moving. Nothing matters, apart from the fact that your face is pressed against his torso, his scent overwhelming your nostrils with bliss, his warmth making you melt ever so slightly.

"Asshole," you hear his dim hiss like an echo in the back of your head. Dazed, your eyes stay glued to his shirt in hopes that he won't notice your embarrassment, "s--sorry about that," you squeak out.

Only then do you feel his gaze slide down to your face. He asks gruffly, "you okay?"

"Fine."

Dear god. Someone kill you now.

"Come on," and before you can protest, you feel his warm hand wrap around your own as he tugs you along, ensuring that you are tucked into his side while he weaves through the throng of people.

You're glad he can't see your face, nor the way your pulse is racing underneath your skin.

And the more you gaze at the strength of his shoulders, the more you are hit by a crumbling realization:

That you might be falling for Iwaizumi Hajime, and that might be the worst decision you’ve made yet.

----

He tells you about his married life when you sit outside the convenience store that evening, about how young and inexperienced he was, and how it had ended on pretty bad terms.

The fact that he even opens up about the topic surprises you, but nevertheless, you want to hope that it's his way of showing that your relationship isn't just tied by Hoosuke.

“Why...” you hesitate slightly, tentative, unsure whether one word will cause him to clam up, “why did it not work out? With you and Hoisuke's mother?” 

It is to be expected that you are met with his silence. It’s stoic and filled with warning, and you quickly scramble for an out, “I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate of me,” you bow your head and bite your lip. 

“She wanted more.” 

His words catch you by surprise. You blink, before looking up at him. He doesn’t look away.

It takes a moment. Then, he murmurs: 

“She wanted more...of everything. Things I couldn’t give her.” 

It stuns you, that he’s so outright. Your mouth opens, but you don’t have anything to say, and you don’t realize that you’re holding your breath until he continues thickly, “she was never satisfied with what I gave her. Always complained that I wasn't enough of a man to sustain a family," he pauses, "I think she was envious. She worked in a big corporation as a financial auditor, and her friends -- well, they all live pretty decent lives. So when we always had our arms full with cleaning up after Hoisuke, they went to get cocktails and eat sushi. I guess she felt like she was missing out somewhere along the line."

It's not the things he says, it's more about the way he says it, voice so thick with emotion that you can hear the tears about to fall from his lips. Your own chest aches with sympathy and your fingers ache to reach out to just hold him.

But you're not that close. You know it's not within your boundaries.

Iwaizumi chuckles before your mind can form a coherent answer, "sorry. Didn't mean for it to get depressive."

You turn to look at him, gaze at the way the streetlight dances over his side profile and down his jawline, "You don't have to say sorry, Iwaizumi-san," pausing and unsure whether you should go on, you decide it's worth the risk, "and while I don't blame her priorities, well, ...was money really such an issue that she left you and Hoisuke behind?"

He shrugs half-hearted, "not my place to say. I was labelled the cheap bastard that wasn't worth shit when she decided to sleep with her ex."

Disgust coils in your stomach, but you decide on letting the anger simmer silently in the pit of your stomach. You don't realize, however, that your fist is clenched so hard into your lap until the warmth of Iwaizumi's fingers flutter over your own.

You look up in surprise only to find his dark orbs searching your face, "hey," he murmurs out quietly, voice surprisingly soft, " s' okay."

You flush against the chilly night air, "sorry," you mumble, "I just-- I know how it feels like. Not to feel like you're enough."

He doesn't respond, only watches you intently. You continue, "my boyfriend cheated on me back in college. I didn't know about it, until six months later."

Iwaizumi sucks in a breath and his fingers tense over yours. Your throat feels scratchy, "so I know the feeling."

"Asshole," is what slips out of his mouth. You chuckle half-heartedly, though with the way he isn't pulling away from your hand makes you feel warm and giddy on the inside.

You'd like to think that this little bit of time spent together has brought you closer, if only to share your woes. But one thing's for sure, you think to yourself as you slowly walk back to Iwaizumi's flat now that the crowd has thinned out, Is that you both have Hoisuke's best interests at heart.

And that is your top priority that you should not forget. Even if you can feel your breath tug in your chest every time your eyes linger a little too long upon each other's.

----

Ha, who the hell were you kidding?

It’s almost impossible to put the certain dark-eyed, dark-haired scowling face of a man out of your mind as the next week comes by. It’s even harder when Hoisuke is more than intent on spending time at your desk in-between classes, chatting on about what he and his father were up to throughout the week. And though you restrain yourself from asking too many questions burning at the back of your tongue, you can’t help but be drawn to the small snippets of Iwaizumi’s life as presented by his son. Even if it’s presented by his son.

So why do you find yourself back in his apartment the very next week with flour all over your clothes ans currently coaching Hoisuke to make figures with his clumsy five-year-old hands?

"This is hard miss Y/N," Hoisuke pouts, arms dropping to his sides, "can't you do it?"

"But that would be no fun," you nudge him playfully as you work on your own little cat figure, "all you need is patience, practice and love."

Glancing at the clock above Hoisuke's head to see that it's already past six in the evening, you wonder where Iwaizumi and Oikawa have disappeared off to. They hadn't told you anything, only that they were picking up some groceries. You guessed it was merely the thought of baking that made them so reticent.

"Don't worry miss Y/N. Daddy's coming back soon," Hoisuke says, as if knowing exactly the thoughts occupying your mind.

"Where did your daddy go anyway?" You decide to play along and ask casually as you move behind Hoisuke to help him mold tiny fingers.

"He and uncle Tooru said that they wanted you to taste the food from the sushi place they love," he then adds casually, almost like an afterthought, "daddy said you looked tired."

He said what now? Your eyebrows shoot up in curiosity.

The sound of the door opening grabs your attention, revealing a dishevelled Oikawa in the doorway with grocery bags hanging from his arms, "we're back with food!"

"Uncle Tooru! Look at the cookie I'm making!" Hoisuke doesn't hesitate to tug onto Oikawa's shirt and drag him to the kitchen counter to marvel at the little misshaped man. Dusting your hands onto your apron and turning to help Iwaizumi, your step falters upon noticing the undecipherable expression shadowing his features.

"Iwaizumi-san?" You blink.

It's gone in a flash, replaced by his usual scowl, "sorry we're late," he murmurs as you help him with the takeaways. You try not to think too much into the way he'd been staring, but your own heart skips a beat at the possibility that maybe--

Stop. You mentally slap yourself. Stop it right there.

Similarly, Iwaizumi is having the exact same mental debate.

Don't get him wrong. There isn't anything he loves about the fact that you've just created havoc in his kitchen. Had he insinuated it when he'd asked about your famous cookie recipe? Maybe. But shit man, call him old and cranky but the amount of cleaning up after the mess in his kitchen is something he isn't looking forward to.

But that small nugget of stress instantly melts away the moment he lays eyes on you and Hoisuke, together. Hoisuke is giggling, you are holding onto his hands, maneuvering them so as to make a semblance of a human limb. You're both dusted with flour, pink in your cheeks, and Iwaizumi swears his heart is going to drop out of his chest.

"Daddy daddy! Wanna see the man me and miss Y/N made?"

"That miss Y/N and I made," you corrected out of impulse, grinning as the child repeated what you saie with no less conviction, and Iwaizumi forced himself to move towards his son with nonchalance, "let me see."

Now that he thinks about it, he shouldn't be inviting you over so casually like it's a weekly thing. And maybe you don't even want to be there. Maybe you're just doing him a favour because you pity him. That's enough to make him sick in his stomach.

But this thought dissipates the more the evening wears on and the more he catches your soft eyes, the motherly affection you radiate towards his child, the gentle giggles falling from your mouth.

Iwaizumi wants it. He wants it so bad his heart aches.

And Oikawa seems to know exactly what he's thinking. Or maybe he's too obvious.

"This is so good," you groan in satisfaction while digging into the takeout sushi. Oikawa doesn't hesitate to pipe up, "right? Iwa-chan literally dragged my butt out of town for th-- fuck!"

He howls, clutching his leg where Iwaizumi had kicked at it in growing irritation and when you look at him in confusion, he feels his face grow red, "don't listen to him."

"Uncle Tooru, you're a bad man. You said the F word," Hoisuke chimes in, "it's okay though, daddy. You don't have to be embarrassed."

The redness of a fire engine can't compare to the flush riding the back of his neck. He wishes for the ground to swallow him at this very inetant, though his lips do quirk up in a smile seeing you burst out laughing before ruffling Hoisuke's hair.

"I see the way you look at her," Oikawa tells him a few nights later upon meeting up at the gym where they both train a few nights a week. It is also one of the few times where Hoisuke stays at his mother's place.

Iwaizumi grunts in response. He turns his head away to focus on his pushups, but if his best friend can deduce from his face alone, then that's an obvious way of showing his embarrassment when he is past the point of denial.

"She likes you too you know," Oikawa casually throws in, wiping the sweat from his face as he straddles a rowing machine, "she's like an open book."

"You don't know that," Iwaizumi hisses as he bends his arms, lift them with another grunt.

"Oh yes I do. And if you're smart you'd do something about it before someone else comes in to swoop her away."

As annoying as he is, Oikawa has a point. The nagging thought eats away at his subconscious mind the more Iwaizumi turns his feelings over in his hands. Despite this, he invites you out with him and his best friend one Saturday night and is mildly surprised that you accept so quickly.

"How have we never met if you went to Aoba Johsai?" Oikawa asks while munching on a french fry. As per his request for greasy comfort food, they'd ended up dragging you to one of their local eateries that make the best burgers in town, "would've noticed a cutie like you."

You can't help but roll your eyes, grinning, "simple, I didn't have any talent. I sang like I was deaf and had two left feet. And don't get me started on sports."

"You could've been a cheerleader," Oikawa smirks evilly, causing you to swat him and reply, "unless I wanted to come out of high school with two broken legs, which I did not."

"Good thing anyway, Iwa-chan hated those cheerleaders with a passion," Oikawa nudges him, "whenever I'd get bombarded with them he'd just scowl and they would scurry off like ants. They were scared shitless!"

"As if you didn't like watching those cheerleaders," you throw Iwaizumi a smug, pointed look with raised eyebrows, to which is scowl deepened. But you're used to it at this point, it doesn't even make you flinch.

"They were annoying and whiny. Why would I like them?" He muttered into his strawberry milkshake. A surprising revelation, considering his bitter, rough countenance.

"Cause they were hot."

"Cause they had long legs."

You and Oikawa blink at each other before you burst out laughing. Iwaizumi merely rolls his eyes, "idiots," but his mouth says otherwise, tugging up in amusement.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Oikawa-san?" You ask aa you munch on your burger.

"Bah, girlfriends don't agree with me."

"He's too much of a playboy to get himself a girlfriend," Iwaizumi mutters loud enough to reach your ears and you snort at the dagger-eyed stare Oikawa throws him, "I can't just give that," he motions towards his figure, "hot bod to anyone, Iwa-chan!"

"Mine's hotter than yours."

"Shut up! Why are you always so mean to me? You know I've been working my ass off for those back muscles!"

Your snort causes your milkshake to spurt from your nose and as Oikawa yelps and scoots furthest away from you, Iwaizumi doesn't hesitate to thrust a bunch of clean napkins in your face, chuckling deeply as he eyes you with the same fond amusement he's been denying himself of in the last few weeks.

Is it selfish? To want more of you than he can have? To feel the naked throb of his fingers that ache to reach out and just tuck your hair behind your ears?

Of course it is. If he does that, he'll cross a line he isn't quite certain he's ready for yet.

Daddy, do you really really like Miss Y/N? Hoisuke's voice is as clear as water that same evening, after he's tucked his son in, after all lights have dimmed in his flat and he sprawls atop his bed with heavy eyelids and a content stomach.

Yes, he thinks to himself as his eyes slowly slip shut, I think I do.

Fuck.

-----

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve, @lilith412426, @elianetsantana, @schleepyflocci, @oohlalie , @kaashikoi , @tendo-sxtori , @iwaroses , @its-the-aerieljeane , @lalalemon101 , @lanaxians-2 , @dora-the-grownup , @sharin-gone , @nekomavsnohebi , @crayonwriting , @imafan , @random-fandom-girl-24 , @bucinhajime , @izumikunmy , @iwaoioioi​ , @evesmores​ , @meri-soni-meri-tamanna​ , @paintedstarres​ , @okadaxo , @michaki​

[vale-writes]

No Time For Me pt. 3

heyyy!! this is the tumblr version of the ao3 viktor fic i posted here. (kudos/reblogs are appreciated!) in this, Jayce confronts Viktor on his mistakes and how he treated you.

700~ words

tags: arguing

Viktor did not sleep well. In fact, he slept worse than he ever had since he started sleeping in his lab. He was on his third cup of coffee of the morning. His hands shook as his pencil scratched along his paper, but he couldn’t shake the fog of exhaustion from his head. He rested his head on the desk and closed his eyes, thinking he could maybe catch a moment of rest. That was until he heard three quick knocks on the door. Viktor shot up in his seat.

“Come in, Jay-” he started. “Viktor, what the hell is wrong with you?” Jayce’s voice boomed throughout the lab as he slammed the door open. “What did you do to Y/N?” 

“I was busy,” he sighed. “And I may not have spent enough time with them, so they became very upset. I tried to talk to them, but-”

Jayce stormed over to the desk and spun Viktor’s chair to face him. “You ignored them for months, Viktor!”

“Well if you already knew, why did you ask?” he snapped back and leaned forward in his chair, getting face-to-face with him. Viktor’s eyes narrowed at him as he snarled, “I’m not going to sit here while you berate me about something I already know I did wrong.”

The two held the heated eye contact in silence, waiting to see who would give in first. Viktor kept his piercing glare and deep scowl. Jayce scoffed and backed off, pushing Viktor’s chair back slightly.

“Did you even apologize to them? They’ve been holed up in their room since last night. They’re a mess right now,” he said as he crossed his arms. “They only let me see them because I brought them food. They didn’t even eat breakfast.”

Viktor blinked in surprise. He’d known you were upset, but it was rare for you to hide away like that. Did he really cause this? No. This wasn’t his fault.

“How is it my fault they’re not eating? I’m failing to see how I’m the cause for their irrationality,” he leaned back in his chair again and crossed his arms. “I’ll admit, I could’ve been.. Nicer. But they knew I was busy. How could they expect me to just drop everything for them?”

Your smile had been on loop in his mind since last night. He couldn’t bear to think of himself as the reason that that smile would be gone. He shook off his guilt and went back to scowling at Jayce.

“Nicer?” Jayce repeated incredulously. “Viktor, do you know how relationships work?” 

Viktor scoffed. “Of course I do! I’m only saying-”

“You need to stop talking. I’m going to tell you how they work.”

Viktor sighed and waved his hand in a “go on,” gesture. 

“Relationships are a collaborative thing. You can’t have a one-way relationship. Currently, that’s what you have. Oh- sorry, had,” He ignored the way Viktor almost leapt out of his chair at him. “Y/N put all of their effort into loving you, and you repaid them by kicking them out of your lab? By locking them out of your life?”

Jayce sighed. “I get it. You’re busy. I’ve been busy too. But you don’t see me locking Mel out of the lab and telling her to get lost. You need to actually make an effort and try to be there for your partner. Otherwise, don’t get into relationships in the first place. You hurt Y/N. That’s what happens when you don’t know what relationships are.”

Viktor looked down at the ground as Jayce’s words flew around his mind. Was he right? Was he the only one in the wrong here? He was so used to the logic and thinking of his work. How could he be so stupid to assume the same would apply to you? You were a living, breathing, person. You weren’t one of his projects that he could just toss to the side. 

“I need to think,” he said as he hurriedly got up and headed for the door.

“Viktor,” Jayce called as Viktor left, his voice serious. “Don’t run away from this.”

[nctsjiho]

King JiHo (Favourite JiHo moments)

Fan Video by ‘Haechan’s Children’ on YouTube

(indented text = comments added by the maker of the video) I’m 100% convinced that this is JiHo’s world and we’re just living in it. Here’s some moments that prove this <3 Enjoyyyy~~

[[N'-135] New Thangs🙆‍♀️🙆‍♂️New Thangs👍👃 | ‘영웅(Kick It)’ 인기가요 대기실 비하인드]

NCT 127 was chilling in their dressing room, backstage, waiting for their turn to perform ‘Kick It’. JiHo sat in one of the chairs in front of the mirrors, ready to get her make up done. Taeyong who was holding the camera walked up to the girl ready to interview her.

“And here we have our lovely JiHo getting ready for our stage.” He commented, earning a hum from the girl. “How are you feeling- oh? What’s that?” The camera wasn’t pointed at anything anymore as Taeyong leaned in closer to the girl then readjusted the camera again to focus on JiHo. His hand reached out to grab her chin and his thumb lightly pressed against a purple spot beneath the left corner of her lip. “Is it real?” The concern was audible in his question and JiHo nodded.

“I thought it was fake! What happened? When did you get that bruise? It looks painful.” Taeyong kept firing out questions which had both JiHo and the make up artist, who was currently working on her, laughing. “It doesn’t hurt too bad.” JiHo answered coolly, her eyes darted to the mirror in front of her and she noticed Mark walk behind her.

“Mark and I got into a fight yesterday.” Taeyong gasped and Mark snapped his head towards her after hearing his name. “What?” Both men asked shocked at the statement. “Mark hit you?” Taeyong asked once again pointing towards the bruise on JiHo’s face. “What are you talking about?” Mark stuttered over his words and turned his head to take a closer look at the bruise. JiHo didn’t say anything as Taeyong put down the camera on the table in front of them and started scolding the innocent boy.

Both JiHo and the make up artist were laughing and JiHo decided to grab the camera and point it towards both boys. “Oppa. I’m just kidding, leave poor Mark alone.” She explained, trying not to laugh again.

Johnny who had been watching everything happen had joined the group wordlessly. “Lim JiHo! You can’t joke about things like that!” The leader scolded and Mark let out a relieved gasp. “What?” She laughed at his expression. “I know we didn’t get into a fight, but I almost started second guessing myself that I somehow did do that to you.” With a hand on his heart, the panic lingered in his eyes for a few more seconds before it slowly vanished.

“You two are so gullible, oh lord.” JiHo chuckled and Johnny now settled between both boys, patting them both on their shoulders. “Taeyong you should’ve known better. If JiHo did get into a fight with Mark, we all know Mark would be the one to come out that with bruises. Not the other way around.”

She has these boys wrapped around her finger and she knows it!

[NCT 127 Talks "Superhuman", Tour, and KPop]

“What makes NCT 127 different from every other boy band?” Jaehyun’s eyes met JiHo’s, who is sitting on the front row of members next to Jungwoo. They shared a smile as Zach, the host, continues his question.

Johnny translated the question to all the other members and JiHo slowly brought the mic up to her lips. Once Johnny finished translating, the female voice of JiHo resonated through the room. “Well...” She stopped there with a nod and everyone started laughing.

After Taeyong and Johnny finished their answer JiHo grabbed her mic once again. “Just want to clarify, I’m not saying I’m the only reason we’re different, I’m just saying, if you’re calling us a boy band then of course me being a female member would technically already make us different from all other boy bands.” She quickly added.

“How does that feel? Being the only girl in a group of men.” Zach asked and JiHo shrugged. “It doesn’t feel abnormal to me. I think after knowing the guys for such a long time I just like, kind of found my spot with them and it just feels normal.” “I think JiHo sometimes forgets that she a girl...” Johnny added carefully, his voice turning a bit unsure at the end. With the boys laughing in the background JiHo waved a piece sign in front of the camera closest to her and started “acting cool” before talking into the mic with a deeper voice. “I’m part of the boys. Part of the homies. Ya know?”

JiHo sweetie, I know you wanna look cool, but all you’re doing is looking adorable. Please stop I’m gonna have a heart attack

[⚾️시티고 야구부⚾️ EP.1 라커 급습 | NCT 127 Baseball Team]

After Johnny’s joke about copying Mark(’s butt), Taeil spoke up, “Aren’t we missing someone?” “Where’s JiHo?” Yuta spun around once as if he was looking for the absent girl. “Tsk. Again, she’s late-” “Lee Haechan!” A voiced boomed off of frame.

JiHo walked in with a confident stride stopping in the middle of the room and staring straight into the main camera. “Don’t speak about your baseball team leader like that.” She said in a cold tone. “Sunbaenim, where were you?” Johnny asked. Since the age rolls were reversed, JiHo was now the oldest in the group. “I just came back from the gym as the leader of the cheerleading team who just finished practise.” “You’re also their leader?” Doyoung stifled a laugh and JiHo turned to him sending him a glare. He put up his hands in a defensive pose and took a step back after which JiHo turned back to the camera.

“Why? Don’t you believe me?” “I don’t know JiHo. It’s just that-” Mark stopped talking before being able to finish his sentence as the girl kicked up her left leg. She caught her foot with her left hand and pulled her leg up until it was next to her face, extended into a heel stretch. Her right hand was also in the air, showing of how great her balance and flexibility is. She kept the pose for a few seconds before bringing her foot back down to the ground. “Wow!” The boys gasped in surprised.

JiHo isn’t trying to be flexible, flexible is trying to be JiHo

She eyed Mark who quickly acknowledged the fact that she fit as the role of the cheerleading team. “Don’t underestimate me Markie.” The teasing tone along with the nickname sent a shiver down the boy’s spine, the other boys either oohing or being slightly scared themselves.

Why is Mark always the victim of JiHo’s teasing?? I can’t with them

[‘To You’ #3]

The whole ‘To You’ series was really sweet and emotional. So this isn’t as funny as the previous clips, but I felt like this still fits the theme so well. I also think that not that many fans have seen this before, so after this clip you should watch all 3 videos <3

PS. this isn’t the full clip but here are some of my favourite parts of Taeil’s message to JiHo

“It must have been hard right? Your position in the group is very special and it must come with a lot of pressure.” Taeil’s eyes fell into his lap, a sad smile on his lips. “But you always try to hide your hardships from the group.”

I believe what he means with ‘position’ is being the maknae of the group as well as being the only girl

“I wished that you could come to us more and open up about those things, because I know that everyone (in the group) would drop everything they were doing in a heartbeat to hear you out.” He took a deep breath before continuing.

“Haechan is the mood maker in the sense that he likes joking around and being loud, but you also are a mood maker. Just in your own unique way. You’re such a good listener and observer so you notice things other people might not. You approach members silently or make small gestures, which mean a lot, to cheer someone up. But you can also be funny and loud. I appreciate both of those sides of you.”

I’m not crying, you are ::>_<::

It was silent for a little as Taeil seemed deep in thought. “I know you don’t like to be treated in a more special way than the other members, and the older members really try not to show it. But in our minds... and in our hearts, you do have a special place. I know you are a strong person and can protect yourself just as well, if not better, than the other members, but I can’t help but want to protect you.”

“Whatever anyone says, those people who aren’t our fans or don’t understand us, I hope you don’t take their painful words to heart. Because you are just as fit to be in NCT as any of the other members.”

I’m so happy to see how much NCT cares for JiHo, not that I ever doubted that they didn’t, but seeing this was so heart-warming and JiHo’s reaction was so sweet as well as her message to Taeyong (but you have to go watch the original video for that ;-) )

[[Un Cut] Take #4 I ‘NCT - RESONANCE Pt. 1’ The Future ver. Jacket Behind the Scene]

The camera focused on JiHo who was currently doing her individual shots. She was wearing a beige oversized long sleeve that showed of her collarbones but covered up most of the rest of her body.

JiHo squatted down and tilted her head to the side to show of her jawline. The staff were complimenting her as the shoot went on.

A particular switch in poses had elicited a surprising response from one of the female staff members. “Wow~ Has she always been this pretty?” She said in awe, which caused everyone to start laughing and agreeing.

After JiHo’s shoot it was Ten and Kun’s turn. During Ten’s individual interview he brought up the event that happened before his shoot started. “I heard that the staff was surprised by JiHo’s visuals.” He chuckled. “My baby is very pretty everyone. Don’t forget that or you’ll be surprised and fall in love with her like the staff member did.”

I don’t know if I’m freaking out more because Ten just called JiHo his baby or because she called her very pretty so casually? Also thanks for the warning Ten, but I’m already madly in love with JiHo so... a bit too late for that.

[Idol Crushes? | HDIGH Ep. #xx Highlight]

“Weren’t you promoting (’Revolution’) recently?” Jae (Day6) asked AleXa who was sat next to him. She hummed. “Actually it was around the same time that NCT was promoting their music.” “Oh did you talk to them?” AleXa shook her head whilst laughing but then stopped suddenly as if she remembered something.

“She wasn’t promoting with them at the time, but I saw JiHo sunbaenim backstage.” This comment perked up Jae’s interest as he sat up in his chair. “Did you introduce yourself?” “Yeah she actually noticed me first and came to say hi.”

Diane, who was the person behind the camera gasped loudly. “Why haven’t you told us about this?! She knows you?” The small girl nodded embarrassed and then explained what happened on that day.

“She’s super nice and complimented my music and dancing. I didn’t think I’d ever been at such a loss for words as back then. I got so nervous because even though she’s really nice, she has such a strong presence? If you know what I mean?” Jae and Diane hum in understanding. “Just seeing her up close like that was so intimidating. Like she told me she was there to support her members so she didn’t have any makeup on, but she was still insanely beautiful.” Jae laughed at the girl’s dramatic explanation. “You sound like you have a crush on her.” AleXa stuttered for a second before replying. “I think I might!” They all laughed.

“Did you exchange phone numbers?” Diane asked and AleXa nodded excitedly. “We did! We don’t text each other often, but every once in a while she reaches out after a new podcast episode comes out to tell me about the parts she liked.” “Oh so she watches this?” Jae’s eyes widened. “Yeah.”

AleXa turned to the camera and waved. “JiHo sunbaenim, if you are watching this, thank you so much! I hope we can get closer someday.”

I don’t know AleXa that well, but I think a collab between her and JiHo would be so powerful!

Thanks for watching this video guys! And leave a comment on what kind of content you want to see next, byeeee o/

[monicashipslokius]

Soulmates Actually Pt 5 (of 6)

(Read Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4)

Loki drags their hands up Mobius’s front, palms flat against his chest, pressing wrinkles into his white shirt. At Mobius’s shoulders, Loki slides their fingers under Mobius’s suit jacket and eases down Mobius’s arms. Mobius straightens his elbows, and the jacket falls unceremoniously to the floor, a dark mark on the beige carpeting. The green tie quickly follows.

Mobius watches Loki with a hooded, passion-filled gaze as their deft fingers open the buttons of his shirt, one after the next, before it too falls down to the floor.

When Loki’s hands finally touch bare skin, they are desperate for it. They follow the path made when Mobius was clothed, up his chest, over his shoulders.

“Loki,” Mobius says, voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a moan.

Loki wraps their arms around Mobius’s waist and pulls him closer. Loki is wearing their silk sleep-shirt, but the fabric is so thin they can still feel the heat of Mobius’s skin against their own.

Loki drops a kiss to Mobius’s bare shoulder, a line across his clavicle, and then up the side of his neck. Mobius tilts his head away, giving Loki more access.

Mobius’s fingers dance up the length of Loki’s arms. He clutches Loki’s shoulders a moment, bunching the nightshirt as Loki bites gently at the soft spot behind Mobius’s ear.

“I want to do this right,” Mobius says. “It’s right for me, but is it right for you?”

Loki hums, trailing a path of kisses to Mobius’s lips before claiming them. Loki pulls away too soon, and smiles when Mobius leans forward, following them. “You are doing perfectly.”

Another kiss. Two. “Not too fast?”

Loki pulls away again, only so far as to look Mobius in the eye so he will know the depth of their feeling as they say, “If I do not have you this moment, I will burst.”

Mobius laughs, and Loki’s heart swells with new, unknown feeling - pride, happiness, unconditional affection. Mobius has won startled laughs from Loki many times but never the other way around. Mobius’s eyes sparkle with delight, with interest and joy and some pride of his own.

Loki wonders if this is what love feels like.

“Not too fast then.” Mobius’s smile lingers.

“No.”

“Good,” Mobius says, and gives Loki a shove.

Loki, caught unawares, falls back onto the bed. “Mobius!” Immediate they are on their elbows, watching Mobius step closer, up to the bed, in the open space between Loki’s legs.

Heart racing at the potential, blissful implications, Loki attempts to keep cool and lifts one lone brow. “My soulmate is feeling bold, I see.”

As Mobius’s hands reach for the waistband of Loki’s sleep-pants, Loki gathers all of their willpower not to whimper out, please. Despite their efforts, it still erupts from their throat, a cut off, strangled sound of desperation that makes Mobius’s smile grow into a shark-like grin.

“Your soulmate,” he says, dropping to his knees, “intends to worship their mischievous god.”

Loki has been in many sexy situations across the centuries, but never in their very long life have they ever felt this much longing, this much lust -

No, more than lust. Desire coupled with affection, wrapped up in...

“Mobius.”

At the first whispered touch, Loki’s thoughts frizzle out, and they do not return for a long, long time.

*

The apartment’s dark, lit only from the dim starlight peeking through the sheer curtains and the flashing clock on the microwave that neither of them set properly.

Loki’s cheek is pressed to Mobius’s bare chest, their ear over Mobius’s heart, listening to the strong, steady rhythm. Mobius’s breath is slow and deep; he fell asleep hours ago. But Loki, even with their body pleasantly exhausted and their desire temporarily sated, lies awake.

They count Mobius’s heartbeats, but hold their breath for the space between them. Humans are fragile things with such short lifespans. Fifty seems so young, but for Mobius, that is already over half his life.

“I think I should retire,” Mobius said earlier, over dinner. “I’ve worked since I was sixteen. Saved and saved. I’ve got enough investments to see us through for a good long while.”

“You love your work,” Loki said, half-hoping they hid the hope in their voice successfully enough to appear supportive.

Mobius laughed, happy and fond, which perhaps was a reveal all its own. “If I dropped dead right now, they would replace me tomorrow.” He stabbed his fork through a green bean, but he might as well stabbed Loki through the heart. His gaze on the food, he didn’t appear to notice. “It’s not personal. It’s a good company. They’ve treated me well over the years. But... that’s just how jobs work. I don’t know. I have more to live for now than just that. And we can afford it.” He laughed again, softer and sadder. “I want to at least have a few years where I can keep up with you.”

“I won’t leave you behind,” Loki said, and they could hear their own desperation.

Mobius finally looked up at Loki, and even though he smiled, he could not hide the gentle heartache in his eyes. “I’m no spring chicken, Loki. Eventually -”

“Do not finish that thought, Mobius M. Mobius.”

“I’m just saying that -”

“I know what you are ‘just saying’ and I will not hear it. I will not leave you behind, and that is the end of the discussion.”

Mobius’s brows lifted high, and Loki expected further argument. But per usual, Mobius subverted all expectations and laughed again, as happy and fond as before.

“If anyone can figure out a way to cheat death, it’s you,” he said then.

He snores a little now. His arms clutch Loki closer, even in sleep. And Loki renews their vow, quiet in the dark.

“Nothing will take you from me.”

*

Mobius puts in his two week notice the next day.

The photo of his office building that he kept on the dresser gets replaced with one of he and Loki together - much of the wall space in their apartment does too. Their smiling faces greet them at every turn.

Perhaps it’s narcissistic, Loki wonders, to have that many pictures of them in their own home, but Loki is so unaccustomed to their own happiness, it is like looking at a stranger.

When they tell Mobius, Mobius smiles and kisses them. He doesn’t reply with words, but he does get that far away look in his eye, the one that appears when his joints are too stiff in the morning, or when he wakes up from having fallen asleep on the recliner without having meant to, or when he looks in the mirror at his gray hair and promises Loki, “I used to be blond.”

And though he never says, I want you to have something to remember me by, Loki can hear the words as loudly as if he shouted them.

Mobius taps his finger on the top of the dresser, near the framed photo of his parents. “You know, I only have this one picture of them. Forty years with them in my life, of phone calls and Christmas cards, too few visits. All of it down to one picture and a bunch of fuzzy memories.”

Loki stands beside him, glancing briefly at the photo before staring at Mobius, at the far away look, and the rare-sadness tilting down his mouth. Yet before they can think of something that would bring some measure of comfort, Mobius turns to Loki and says, “Let’s go on vacation.”

Surprise replaces worry, and Loki glances at the smiling photo of Mobius on his jetski. “A lovely idea,” Loki says, and offers a small grin. “I believe I was promised a trip to the ocean as recompense for surrendering dominion over this realm.”

Mobius wide smile returns, and Loki’s grows in victory.

“A man should keep his promises,” Mobius says, and they start making plans.

*

Two weeks pass, and Mobius's last day at work comes and goes.

“You’ll be sick of me in a week,” Mobius says the first day off, but after a week, and then two after that, Loki cannot get enough of their time together.

During the day, he and Loki talk and go for walks and watch the soap operas Loki pretends to only like ironically but secretly loves.

“Is that Georgina or Regina?” Mobius asks.

Loki, an expert after weeks of indulgence, can easily identify one twin from another. “That’s Georgina. Regina has the beauty mark above her lip.”

During the night (and sometimes during the day too), they lose themselves in each other. Without draining himself at work all day, Mobius has more energy to properly worship his mischievous god, and though Loki will never admit it aloud, they do some worshiping too, of their foolhardy mortal.

Their precious, fragile human.

The longer they are together, the more perfectly matched they seem. And Loki, who has never been in love before, begins to allow himself a moment of soft wonder.

Loki remembers their first touch, the spliced visions of their future, and the way Mobius said, I love you. Again and again, a thousand times in one moment. Loki begins to wish for that... to crave it.

Sometimes they wonder what Mobius saw during the vision. Did Loki say it to him?

They have no idea how to ask without giving themself away.

*

The night before their trip to California, Mobius and Loki pack clothes into a pair of suitcases. At first they had attempted to share a single suitcase, but quickly deemed that an unwise decision.

“I don’t understand why you need so many clothes,” Mobius said, as his ‘half’ of the suitcase shrank down a considerable margin. “Can’t you just magic your outfit whenever you want?”

“You always wear that same drab suit, despite all the others we procured for you, despite no longer being required to wear it for work,” Loki replied. “Surely that portion of the suitcase is enough for one suit.”

Mobius looked down at the brown suit he currently wore, and though his smile remained, a small line formed between his brow. Loki knew instantly they had pushed too far.

So they cleared their throat and said, “Or perhaps I am doing my best to ensure you spend most of the trip naked.”

Mobius laughed and his brow smoothed out. “Alright, alright. I’ll get another suitcase,” he said, without further prompting.

Now, Mobius carefully folds yet another white shirt as he lowers it down onto the perfectly aligned pile of five exact copies. “I’ve been thinking.”

“A dangerous prospect,” Loki says, tossing a few shirts into their own suitcase. “One that usually ends in anxiety for me.” They say it as a joke. They do not expect Mobius’s quiet in return.

Worried there might still be lingering hurt from the suit remark, Loki shifts all attention to Mobius, and finds him a tangle of tension and uncertainty.

“Mobius?”

“Maybe it’s not a good idea.” He unfolds and refolds the same shirt. Twice. “Forget I said anything.”

Loki reaches out, takes the shirt from Mobius hands, and lowers it. Then they take Mobius’s hands and turn him toward them. When Mobius’s gaze drifts off toward the kitchen, Loki laces their fingers together and squeezes his hands gently.

“Good or not, I should hear your idea,” Loki says. “I enjoy knowing all of your thoughts.”

Mobius shifts his glance briefly to the photo of his parents on the dresser. “Even if it’s something that might cause you anxiety?”

Loki traces their thumb over Mobius’s. “I believe not knowing would be substantially worse.”

Finally, Mobius looks at them. “Yeah, okay.” He presses his lips hard together as he studies Loki’s face.

The longer the silence lasts, the more worry coils around Loki’s chest until they  feels as if they might explode just from anticipation of -

“I think we should invite your family to our vacation.”

Loki blinks. Waits for the punchline.

For surely Mobius is jesting.

Instead, Mobius winces. “Now that’s a look.”

“You... aren’t jesting.” Loki tries to imagine Odin standing on a sandy Californian beach, but the image is so outrageous, their mind cannot conjure it.

“Look, I know it’s a bad idea. And we can go ahead and never talk about it after this, but...” He glances again at the photo of his parents, and the heartbroken look returns to his eyes. “Too few visits.”

Only one picture.

There are no pictures of Loki’s family. Mobius offered to print a fuzzy photo of Thor from the internet but Loki refused.

“I’m not saying we invite your dad, I know that’s...” Mobius gives Loki’s hands a gentle, supportive squeeze. “But what about Thor? I promised him a jetski ride.” A pause, then softer, “What about your mom?”

Loki can imagine Thor acting a buffoon on a sandy beach - building a sand-Asgard (or attempting to - Loki’s would be infinitely better), racing Mobius on jetskis, swimming out too far and having to use Mjolnir to fly back to safety.

Oddly, Loki can also imagine Frigga, perched on a lounge chair under an umbrella, flipping through pages of a book. She would be the judge of their theoretical sand-Asgard competition and would undoubtedly deem them equal, regardless of actual merit.

“There’s that smile,” Mobius says, drawing Loki back to the now, away from the beach and to their small apartment in Dubuque. “Maybe not such a bad idea after all?”

Hope burns hot in Loki’s chest, even as they say, “They’d never agree, even if we could find a way to invite them.”

“I don’t believe that,” Mobius says, and his confidence further brightens Loki’s hope. He tilts his head. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’d never complain about having you all to myself.” He surely aims for a smile, and he gets one. “But... would it be okay if we tried?”

They’ll say no, Loki knows. They’ll never show. But blind hope has them nod their head, just once.

“Great.” Mobius lifts one of Loki’s hands and kisses the back of it. Then he releases them both and steps into the middle of the apartment.

“What are you doing?” Loki asks.

Mobius winks, then lifts his gaze to the ceiling. “Um, hi?” He furrows his brow and glances at Loki. “What was his name again? The guy who’s always watching? Helmdell?”

“Heimdall,” Loki says, “But I’m not sure he’ll appreciate playing messenger for such a silly request.”

“Come on,” Mobius says. “Guy is probably up there all day dealing with huge crises. He might appreciate something lighter for a change. Plus, if anything goes wrong, we can just blame the ignorant human.” He points his thumb to himself.

That this silly human man is so casually willing to bother a god with a party invitation has Loki want to hide their own face in embarrassment and also cover Mobius’s in kisses.

What an impossible fool.

“Mister Heimdall, sir?” Mobius says to the ceiling. “I’m sorry to bother you, I know you're busy. But if you could please let Loki’s mom and brother know that they are invited to come to our vacation in Malibu tomorrow? For a week? If they want to? I’d appreciate it. Uh, thank you.” He lowers his head, frowns, and lifts it again. “You can come too.”

“Mobius,” Loki hisses.

“He can come,” Mobius tells them as he returns to their side. In a whisper, he says, “We can’t be rude.”

Only the most extreme level of willpower keeps Loki from rolling their eyes. “If you were worried about rudeness, you should have invited my... the All-Father.”

Mobius’s smile slips. “No.”

It’s such a sudden turnabout that Loki’s brain goes quiet a moment.

“I’m sorry, Loki. If you want him there, of course, we can invite him, but listening to you talk about him. Even right now, did you hear yourself? You called him ‘All-Father,’ not Dad or Pops or even Odin. So formal. And look at you.” He grabs Loki by the elbows and jostles them a bit, and Loki realizes how tense they’ve been. “Coiled up like a spring about to pop. If this is what just mentioning him does to you, I don’t want that guy anywhere near you.”

Loki loosens as Mobius trails his hands to their shoulders.

“He may be displeased at not being invited,” Loki says.

“We’ll deal with that rainbow bridge when we cross it.”

Mobius rubs Loki’s shoulders, and Loki closes their eyes, putty in his hands.

“You cause infinite trouble for me, soulmate,” Loki says.

Mobius chuckles. “Yeah, but you like trouble. Keeps things interesting.” Mobius’s fingers dig into tight muscle, and Loki lets out a soft, relaxed sigh. “That’s why Regina’s your favorite.”

Loki’s eyes snap open. “She is not.”

“She’s the mischief-maker.”

“No, I assure you, she is far from my favorite. Her plans are so poorly executed that even Claudio, besotted as he constantly is over Georgina, catches wise of her almost instantly. She insults the name of mischief.”

“Maybe. But they wouldn’t have a show without her. She’s the only one who does anything.”

“No, you simply have not watched enough episodes...” Loki stops themself short and stands suddenly taller. “I know what you're doing.”

“Oh?”

“You are attempting to distract me.”

Mobius hums, and his little smile turns 100% smug. “It worked too, didn’t it?”

It did, and Loki is both infuriated and endeared at once. “How do you do this to me?”

Mobius shrugs. “You’re pretty easy to rile up.”

“That’s not what I mean, I -” They stop themself again, realizing they were about to admit to... feelings. Dangerous feelings. They swallow down the words they want to say, and say instead, “You infuriate me, Mobius.”

“Yeah,” Mobius says, “But you like that too.”

Loki does. All powers in the cosmos help them, they absolutely do.

They are as besotted with Mobius as Claudio is with Georgina. No, more so.

Mobius is so earnest and good and kind, and cares so much about Loki and Loki’s happiness, that even though Loki is annoyed, they still lean forward and kiss Mobius quick on the mouth.

Mobius closes his eyes for the kiss, then takes his time opening them again. He looks at Loki like they’re the brightest star in the sky, and Loki, chest swollen with an unfamiliar emotion that washes away all annoyance, even the faked kind, pulls Mobius into their arms and kisses him again, more properly.

Overwhelmed with warmth, Loki swoops Mobius up into their arms, mouth pressed against Mobius’s laugh, and carries him to the bed.

In the end, both suitcases end up on the floor, overturned, contents spread out all over, Mobius’s many shirts no longer perfectly folded. The one he was wearing will need some serious mending, buttons all ripped off. The pants are too torn to be salvageable.

Mobius holds Loki close and places soft kiss after soft kiss along their hairline. The space between one and the next lengthens until eventually they stop altogether.

With Mobius’s breath slow and steady in sleep, Loki leans to Mobius’s ear and whispers, “I think that I... I love you.”

*

“They aren’t going to come,” Loki says in the taxi cab to the airport.

“They surely have other matters to attend to,” Loki says at 30,000 feet.

“I cannot imagine them meeting us,” Loki says on the Californian tarmac,  even as they do imagine it - the four of them with multi-color drinks topped with sliced fruit, curly straws, and tiny umbrellas.

Mobius has not released their hand the entire voyage. “You never know. Stranger things have happened.”

“Stranger than two gods vacationing with their delinquent adopted relative?”

“Sure,” Mobius says with a shrug. “You hear the one about the gorgeous god who found their soulmate in a folksy dope of a human?”

A small measure of Loki’s anxiety melts away. “You are referring to when the realm’s bravest human opened their heart to a broken god?”

“Not broken,” Mobius says, suddenly serious. “Never broken.”

“Mobius,” Loki starts, but in a flash, Mobius easy smile returns.

“Come on. Let’s hit the beach.”

Loki bounces their leg the entire taxi drive to their beach-front hotel. Their suite is large, upgraded last minute at surely no small expense, to a set of three rooms, just in case Thor and Frigga decided to arrive. They change into swim trunks and descend the staircase off their balcony down to the sand. The hotel arranged a series of lounge chairs and umbrellas that Loki is eager to claim, but Mobius pulls them down to the water first.

“We’ve been in Iowa too long. We have to at least touch the ocean.”

Loki accommodates him enough to step into the water, ankle-deep. Mobius splashes in all the way. He dips below the surface, then reappears, drawing closer, soaking wet.

“Do not even think of -” Loki says, knowing what’s coming. Mobius allots them plenty of time to move if they wish, but they do not. Though they do groan in dismay as Mobius wraps them in a damp hug.

“Kiss me,” Mobius says, bright as the sunshine and laughing. “I taste like the ocean.”

Loki does not bother to stop their rolling eyes, even as they indulge him with a kiss. Hm, he does taste a bit salty. But it’s still Mobius underneath.

“Perhaps you are part fish,” Loki offers, teasing.

Mobius’s eyes light up. “Do you think mermaids are real? Mermen?”

Loki, watching Mobius’s youthful glee, has no desire to quash his joy, even slightly. “Perhaps?”

“Oh, man. How great would that be?” Mobius says and releasing Loki, flops back into the water.

Loki can’t help their smile. And they don’t want to either. Mobius makes them feel young again too, full of hope and possibilities. Like they could accomplish anything.

Like defying death.

Their smile slips, but they struggle to hold onto it, not wanting to ruin Mobius’s fun.

But even this trip carries the weight of Mobius’s unsaid wish, I want you to have something to remember me by.

“We will remember together,” Loki says under his breath, as Mobius jumps into a wave.

Then, like a boom of thunder across the beach, roars a voice, “Brother!”

Loki turns to see Thor in bright-colored shorts and a too-small white tank top walking toward him. Large sunglasses hide his eyes, and a swipe of white sunscreen streaks his nose, but his wide smile leaves no argument to his expression. And beside him...

Frigga wears a long, floral sundress and a wide-brimmed hat. Where Thor barrels forward, oaf-like, she moves like the water itself, each step on the sand fluid and careful.

Reality flashes through Loki, stealing his breath. When last she saw them, they were... not...

They have no idea what their relationship could be now.

This was a mistake.

Loki has to run.

They look at the water, but Mobius is too far out.

For Loki to run, they would have to leave Mobius.

Indecision roots them. To stay or to go.

But no, Frigga would not wear a sundress if she had meant only to renounce them. She would not dress as though she intends to stay.

And Mobius...

Loki steels their resolve. How tightly had Mobius held Loki after they fought about his job and he thought Loki gone forever? How many whispered promises had he made since then, of their staying together?

No. Mobius would not leave them. 

Loki will not abandon him either.

Thor reaches them first. “Good to see you again, Loki. Heimdall sends his regards, and his regrets. He could not get away.”

“Oh... uh, of course.”

“Where’s... oh!” Thor looks out at the water. “Mobius! My brother! Stay there, I will join you!” Then he trudges into the water, each step a large splash.

In his place, stands Frigga. Loki stands tall, bracing themself for perhaps-deserved condemnation.

But then their mother lifts a hand and places it softly to their cheek.

“My beautiful child,” she says, and it is enough. It is everything.

Loki falls into open arms, feeling much like a youth again, safe and protected in their mother’s embrace.

“Thank you for inviting us,” she says as she cards her fingers through their hair. “It was a most pleasant and unexpected surprise.”

“It was Mobius’s idea,” Loki admits.

“Your soulmate knows your heart well,” she says, kindness warm in her voice. “It brings this mother peace to see her child so happy. Especially after such a long period of distress.”

Loki closes their eyes and bites back their bubbling emotion. To have their pain acknowledge is almost too much. As to, is having the reaffirmation that they are her child, even now, even after everything.

Loki realizes too late that they are still wet from Mobius’s hug, and pulls away sharply. But Frigga keeps her arms on their shoulders, her smile ever-soft, ever-patient. She holds no harm for them, only kindness. Only joy.

Mobius approaches slowly, kicking gently through the water, creating only minimal disturbance to the water’s surface.

He looks first to Loki, as if studying their face. Loki knows he is searching for distress, that Mobius will rise to their defense with nary a moment’s notice. But he mustn’t see that, because a smile breaks wide on his face as he turns it toward Frigga.

He holds out his hand, dripping wet with saltwater. Frigga glances at his hand, then ignores it and pulls him into a hug, too.

“Thank you,” she says, voice nearly lost among the shift of the waves and the loud beating of Loki’s own heart.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Mobius’s voice is much stronger. “You’re always welcome to... oh.”

She says something else, something Loki cannot hear, something that makes Mobius’s smile soften and his eyes search out Loki’s over her shoulder.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, either,” Mobius says. “Loving them is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Loki’s whole world goes very still.

The sun shines. The waves continue to pound the sand. Somewhere, Thor calls out for them to join him. Mobius looks away from them, back to Frigga.

Loki just stands there, a single word, echoing loud in their head.

Mobius’s voice. Mobius’s word.

Love.