#never lie to my face ever again whoever keeps saying that

[fionnalovesanimeboysandholo]

The person that said Vampire Knight is cringe is the biggest liar in the world

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

you’re gonna be ok (paige x reader)

summary: you’re going through a tough time and have pushed paige away but she finally realises something is wrong

content warnings: talks of depression and ed behaviours/language

requested by: @melpthatsme 💗

Your girlfriend was getting suspicious and rightly so. You had just given her another lame excuse as to why you couldn’t have dinner with her tonight. That was the third time this week.

At first it was ‘too much homework’, then a ‘headache’ and now it was your ‘period’. All lies.

As you lay curled up in your bed, all lights turned off, you sobbed silent tears until your pillow was saturated. You felt guilty lying to Paige but you couldn’t go out, especially not to eat.

You wasn’t entirely sure why Paige even wanted to be seen in public with you anyway, why she was with you at all actually. Paige was beautiful. Like the most beautifully perfect woman there ever was. Her eyes shone bright at all times and whether her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail or left natural and loose, framing her face, it looked immaculate. She was intelligent and athletic, maintaining an almost perfect GPA while simultaneously leading her team in back to back wins. Paige was everything and you, you were nothing.

You hated everything about yourself and you were usually good at hiding it. Painting on a fake smile and laughing when others laughed, mirroring your friends actions to make it seem like everything was just fine but it was getting harder to hide. You were drinking and smoking just to get respite from your thoughts. You were dragging yourself to gatherings just to count down the minutes until you could leave and be alone in your room where you could finally let your guard down.

You were proud at how long you had gone keeping this to yourself but it was almost impossible now. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to leave the apartment. You didn’t want to eat. You didn’t want to see anyone. In fact, you didn’t want to see yourself. You had even gone as far to cover every mirror in your room just to avoid the reflection that made you sick to your stomach.

You felt like you had cried a river this past week but the tears wouldn’t stop, you thought there would be nothing left to give but you were a never ending pit of sadness.

You hear shuffling and muffled voices coming from your living room, your roommates must be home. You thanked yourself for keeping your lights off and closed your eyes so if they came into your room, they’d think you were sleeping.

A few seconds past before you heard a light knock at your door. You ignored it. Pressing yourself further into your mattress, wishing it would swallow you whole. Then came the click of the handle being turned and the door squeaking open.

You kept your body as still as possible, holding your breath in hopes that whoever was disturbing you would think twice but that doesn’t happen. Instead your bedroom light is flicked on and your door is closed with force, practically slammed.

“Why did you lie to me?” You recognise Paiges voice immediately and it’s a mixture of pissed off but also upset and you know it’s your fault.

“What?” You say, even though you heard her loud and clear.

“I know you’re not on your period. Our cycles are synced. They have been for months. Why did you lie?” Paige asks again and you feel so stupid for making such a rookie error.

Paige was right. Your cycles were synced, it happened often with women and girls that spent a lot of time together, so when you were on your period, she was too. She had caught you out in your lie.

“I don’t know.” You mummble into your duvet, still curled up tightly.

“You’ve blown me off three times this week. You barely answer my calls and texts, it’s like I have to force you to see me and now you’re lying to me and you can’t even be bothered to tell me why?” Paige rants and even though you still haven’t looked at her you can tell she’s pacing your room.

“I don’t understand what’s going on. I thought we were good but maybe not.” She says and you physically feel your heart brake at her words but you can’t bring yourself to say anything other than, “Maybe.”

“What?” She asks confused even though she was the one who said it first, “Y/N, can you at least fucking look at me?” She snapped and you know thats the least you owe her so you slowly roll yourself around so you’re no longer facing the wall and push yourself up into a sitting position but you can’t bring yourself to lift your eyes from your lap.

“I wanted to take you for dinner, spend some time with you. Just be with you and I thought you would have wanted the same but instead you’re in bed!” Paige continued and you just took her onslaught of words, you didn’t have the energy to argue or even defend yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, picking at the already raw skin around your nails.

“Will you just look at me? Do you want to break-” You finally look at Paige and she stops mid-sentence, “Have you been crying?”

You ignore her question because your heart is racing and more tears are threatening to fall at what she was about to ask, “Finish what you were about to say.” You whisper but she doesn’t need to, you knew what she was going to say. She was going to ask if you wanted to break up.

“What’s the matter? What happened? Why were you crying?” Paige asks all at once, any annoyance in her tone has been replaced with concern and her facial expression shifted from dark and frowning to soft and doe eyed.

“I wasn’t.” You lie, “Finish what you were about to say.”

“Yes you were. Your eyes are red and puffy, your skin is blotchy,” She walks towards you, “and your pillows wet. Why were you crying?”

“You want to break up.” You answer your own question.

“No. No, I don’t. But I don’t understand what’s going on with you, I thought maybe you did.” She says honestly sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I don’t.”

“Why were you crying baby? Tell me what’s on your mind.” She says placing a hand on your leg.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too much Paige. My mind is too much, it’s too dark. You don’t deserve that.” You begin to cry again and it quickly turns into sobs.

“Hey, baby, come here.” She whispered, pulling you into her chest and onto her lap, she wrapped her arms around your body and held you close, “You’re scaring me.” She admits, “Tell me what’s going on my love. I want to help you.”

“You deserve more than this Paige.” You choke out in between sobs, you’re hyperventilating now, your body shaking in your girlfriends arms but she continues to hold you tight and close.

“But I want you. I love you.” She pulls away from you slightly so she can look you in your eyes and she holds your face tenderly, a hand on each cheek, “You’re all I want, my beautiful girl.”

“Don’t say that.” You weep, jumping out of her lap.

“Don’t say what?”

“Don’t say I’m beautiful. Don’t say any of it. It’s not true.” You cross your arms over yourself wishing you could shrink down into the smallest dimensions and eventually disappear.

“Baby, what are you saying? What’s going on?” She reaches out for you but you pull away not wanting to be touched.

Paige properly looks around your room for the first time and you watch as she notices everything and you see the cogs turning in her head as her eyes fall to your mirror, covered by a sweater. She sees the paper taped to your wall with your weight written on it followed by the harshest of words that you thought about yourself. She sees the empty alcohol bottles on your dresser and the half smoked blunt on your bedside table. And when she finally looks at you, in your oversized clothes, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, her eyes were glossy and her forehead creased as she fought back tears of her own.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I do know that I do love you and you are beautiful and I’ll tell you that everyday until you believe it.” She says as a tear slips down her cheek.

Paige walks over to you, taking you by your hands first and kissing both of them. She pulls on the sleeves of your sweater and you reluctantly let her pull it over your head so your just standing there in your bra. You close your eyes not wanting to see her reaction to your body, the thought of it made you sick. You felt her lips press to your stomach and she peppered kisses up your torso, “My beautiful baby.” She mumbled against your skin as she continued to kiss over your chest and onto your neck.

She took you to your bed, laying you down and she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your joggers, pulling them off, exposing your legs. You wanted to grab the sheet and cover yourself up but her mouth met your thigh and she pecked it gently, moving over the the other, “So perfect.” She breathed, the tips of her fingers trailing down your legs.

You lay on your bed, eyes closed, tears streaming out and you feel Paige hover above you, “Look at me baby.” She says softly, wiping the tears that soaked your cheeks. You flutter your eyes open and look up at Paige who’s looking down at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and care. “Please don’t shut me out. I’m here for you. Anything you need me to do, I’ll do it. I just want you to be OK. I need you to be OK. You’re everything to me.” She says, blue eyes locked on yours.

“Can you just hold me tonight?” You sniffle. “Of course.”

Paige lays on your bed, pulling you into her arms, she presses her lips to your head before her fingers find your hair and she runs through it gently, “You’re gonna be OK.” She whispers comfortingly. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: i wrote this so tired so forgive any mistakes 😭 already want to write a part 2 🥺🥺

[rallamajoop]

Resident Evil 7 and Mia's secrets

(Oh, did you think I was done talking about Mia? Not even close! >D)

Coming into this fandom late, I was surprised that popular fanon has it that Mia never does come clean to Ethan, post-RE7. Sure, RE8 depends on Mia not having told Ethan he died in Dulvey, but that has nothing to do with her own past with the Connections (and far more to do with Ethan's own denial, but that's a whole other thing).

Myself, I’d taken it as given that the scene where Ethan learns the truth must have just happened off-screen. Because, disappointing as that omission is, the whole damn game is leading up to it.

And having replayed RE7 lately, I realised there'd be no better way to explain my take than to catalog every time the game spells out to us that Ethan knows Mia’s keeping secrets and wants answers, and that Mia herself wants to come clean.

Heck, it’s just about the very first thing we learn about them.

“Ethan... You were right. I did lie to you. I shouldn’t have, but…”

Ethan's not actually stupid, and Mia's secrecy has obviously strained their marriage for some time. And as soon as Ethan finds her, he’s asking questions.

Here, he’s mostly asking who did this to you; it's way too early for real answers. But then Eveline takes control, shit goes down, and next we see her, it’s in her recorded message from the “Mia” video tape.

“There’s so much you need to know.”

When Ethan finds Mia again under the old house, he’s angry and has every right to be, and he doesn’t pull any punches.

“I always wanted to tell you…”

But Mia’s memory’s still a mess, and Lucas interrupts. Ethan’s next chance to ask questions comes in the boat, and he wastes no time.

“You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

Mia’s a little more defensive here, but she’s not lying about the holes in her memory. The game’s gearing up for the big reveal anyway, and the writers aren’t about to let her spoil it early.

If you choose Zoe instead of Mia, Ethan spends the boat ride asking all the same questions, only louder.

“I knew Mia was hiding something.”

But in the end, what do we get?

Whoever you choose, Ethan only gets a few brief moments with Mia after she frees him from Eveline’s mould, and no explanations are offered. But if you do pick Mia, then we end with Ethan flying away with her in the helicopter, saying only, “Mia's back and she wants to start over,” and I’m left going, wait, what? Haven’t we skipped something here?

In defence of the fanon consensus that Ethan never finds out the truth, that does seem to be the ‘canonical’ intent ‒ at least inasmuch as there's this one throwaway bit about Mia not wanting Ethan to know buried in a bonus text file only available with this one overpriced DLC for RE8. That’s it, that’s as much explicit recognition as this thing ever gets, one way or the other. And fucking hell, but that's a let down.

Even if we assume that Mia’s desire to come clean goes away once her memory comes back, why would Ethan just stop asking? He’s been asking questions the whole damn game – was clearly asking questions long before the game began! Knowing that Eveline was controlling people doesn’t explain what Mia had to do with it all. Now he’s suddenly all, ‘killed the bad guy, saved the girl, everything’s fine’? Was all that ‘a door closed’ bullshit supposed to be him accepting he’d never get answers? Why?

There are workable ways to spin Ethan never finding out. You could suggest he just accepts that Mia’s memory is gone (hell, for all we actually see of the ending, Mia genuinely might have lost her memory again after Eveline sucked her back into the mould). After all the trauma Ethan’s been through, you could also suggest he’s gone directly into denial, refusing to face anything that might threaten his ‘happy ending’ with Mia. You could even suggest that that bit with Eveline saying 'I can make him love you' is her actively wiping Ethan's suspicions away. There's some lovely, subtle horror in any of these possibilities ‒ I would genuinely love to see all of them explored in fic! But none of them actually come through in the ending we get, and that omission is the single biggest issue that makes that conclusion to RE7 unsatisfying to me.

The whole damn game has been building up to the big confrontation where Ethan finds out the truth and (eventually, if not immediately) finds a way to forgive Mia, so we can still have our happy ending. As much OTT hate as Mia gets, the game is consistent in portraying her as someone who is painfully aware of how bad she’s fucked up, regrets it, and is committed to doing everything she can to protect the man she loves from the fallout of her mistakes.

I cannot overstate how willing Mia is to die to save Ethan, from the very moment she realises she's infected. She does die to save him if you choose Zoe over her. It's so much of why I ship them do hard.

But most frustrating of all, denying Mia the chance to come clean denies her any chance to explain herself. How did she get involved with the Connections? Did she know from the outset who she was working for? Did she genuinely buy into the idea they were finding ways to win wars without losing soldiers on battlefield, that the human casualties of all their work was worth it? If not, why did she keep working there? Was she slowly frog-boiled down to the deep end, did they have dirt on her, did she fear they might kill her if she tried to leave? What excuses did she make to herself as the months or years went on?

It's possible Mia’s the kind of hypocrite who doesn’t care about the human casualties of her employer, just as long as she and hers are okay, but nothing we see from her sells me on that interpretation. And even if she ever was, it's even harder to believe she's still that person after all she's been through.

It aggravates me that the games never gave us answers, not just because I want explanations that cast Mia in a sympathetic light, but because not giving us answers leaves this huge hole in her character. I'd even take explanations that cast her in an unsympathetic light, as long as it all ties together.

It irritates me even more because, even if Capcom wasn’t up for giving Ethan and Mia the big emotional confrontation they deserved, the solution was so simple: let Ethan find Mia’s diary on his way out of the ship. The whole goddamn franchise is filled with diaries and documents where characters lay out their backstories and motivations in ludicrous detail – why does Mia never get one? Just give us a handful of entries dated over the years, laying out her own feelings and anxieties about the job she’s doing. It would’ve been so easy!

It irritates me nearly as much that, even in the few corners of this fandom sympathetic to Mia, no-one seems to be very interested in answering these questions in fic or shared headcanons (and if there are examples out there I don't know about, please do link me to them!) How much did Mia know about what she was getting into when she started working for the Connections? Was it the job she kept telling herself was just until she could find something better, only for that ‘something better��� to never come along? Did she have stains on her record that made it hard to find another job? How much of her lying was a misguided attempt to protect Ethan, and how much was simply about protecting herself? There's so much to explore here!

This is also where I mention that I've already put my money where my mouth on this one, and written up my own take on Mia's backstory, and how Ethan might have found out the truth. You don't have to agree with my version, of course ‒ I mean it when I say I'd love to see other people's ideas too. Heck, I'd even be up for versions where Ethan ultimately can't forgive her, just as long as people come at it from the angle of looking at Mia as a character, not just a one-dimensional-villain.

But of course, I'd still prefer to think about versions where these two do find a way to make it work. It takes a lot to make me ship het this hard, but these two stealth-badasses have pulled it off with style.

[sleepysnk]

a/n: this is the official part three of my mini series? idk, but i decided to make another part because i was having serious hanma brainrot! i hope you all enjoy 🫶🏻

pairings: hanma shuji x fem!reader

warnings: modern au, college au, nsfw, smut, hanma is reader’s older brothers best friend, car sex, praising, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of pet names (baby, babydoll), creampie, breeding kink, choking, small mention of spanking.

part one + part two.

best you had ft. hanma shuji

“Stay the fuck away from my sister.”

Hanma recalled that day like it had happened just a few hours prior. He can remember every single detail of your brother’s angry face when he caught the two of you fucking in your bedroom at his birthday party. Hanma didn’t mean for the two of you to get caught, but you were both too caught up in your bliss to even think about letting up and pausing. It was just too good for either of you to stop.

He was ordered by your brother to completely sever all ties with you. 

Hanma tried his best to plead his case. He claimed that it was the only time you had hooked up, which was a complete lie, but your brother didn’t care. He was furious with not just Hanma, but with you as well. You got an ear full from your sibling the second Hanma had left the house. Your brother had spouted so much crap about not messing with his friends, and he thought you had learned that the second you had arrived at university. It was so bad, your brother didn’t speak to you for almost three weeks. The only time you communicated was when you would go home from college to see your parents. 

Hanma’s friendship with your brother had been completely tarnished. He knew this was a fact when he saw that your sibling had completely blocked him on every known social media he had him on. He also refused to speak with him in person and slammed the door in his face when he made attempts to talk. 

He was annoyed. They had been friends since they were teenagers, but he couldn’t lie, Hanma wouldn’t be sure if he could ever forgive his friend if he banged his sister at his birthday party. 

You honestly believed that you wouldn’t see Hanma again. Any time you crossed paths, Hanma wouldn’t say anything. He’d just glance at you and keep walking. You assumed that he was fulfilling the wish your brother had desired him to grant. However, you thought it was complete bullshit. You were allowed to fuck around with whoever you wanted. It wasn’t your brother’s business either. Though, in some aspects, it could be considered his business since Hanma was his best friend. 

But, knowing Hanma, he wasn’t gonna let you slip out of his grasp that easily. 

In all honesty, you weren’t that surprised that he had eventually reached out to you a few weeks after the incident at your brother's birthday. 

You were shocked when Hanma had pulled you into the backseat and buried his cock inside you.

It was supposed to be a regular conversation. He wanted to clear up everything and talk with you about the whole situation. It had been a while since he had actually sat down and spoke with you one on one. However, his intentions went in the opposite direction as soon as you sat down in his passenger seat. Everything he fucking adored about you was sitting right in front of him.

Fucking you was like taking in a fresh breath of air. He could never get enough and every time he thrusted he only craved more.

He had his parked in an empty lot. It was the dead of night and the streets were a ghost town except for the two of you. He didn’t give a single fuck if someone had came by. He missed you. Oh my God, he missed you so fucking bad. Your pretty body was like a treasure he wanted to selfishly keep to himself. 

You were sitting on top of him. Hanma’s hands were exploring and dragging along every curvature on your body. His cock was bullying your walls and hitting that spot that made your brain turn into fog. You didn’t know you needed him that badly. It wasn’t until he pushed his dick inside you that you realized how much you craved this man and his touch. Nobody else compared to what Hanma did for you. He fucked you better than anybody else. 

Fuck, he knew how soaked you were. Every time he rutted his hips, your pussy squelched and made sopping noises. It turned him on so much. He knew you were desperate for him, but he didn’t think it was that bad. 

Your foreheads were against one another. The car had become quite feverish since the two of you started. Sweat dripped from Hanma’s body from the heat, and a layer of fog had covered the windows beside you. That didn’t stop him from giving you the absolute time of your life. “Fuck.. missed this pussy so much, baby.” he trailed one of his hands down your waist towards your hip. “You miss me too, hm? I think you did, princess..” 

Your fingernails sank into the skin of his shoulder. All you felt was pure ecstasy from his pace. You couldn’t lie, you missed Hanma more than anything. “Yes! ‘Missed you so much, Hanma..” you whined, looking into his golden eyes that you could get lost in. 

Punishment squeezed the flesh of your hip, while sin had wrapped around your throat. He never got tired of how gorgeous you appeared before him whenever he had you like this. Your glossy lips, hazy eyes, he could film this shit forever and replay it like it was a movie and he’d still find things to enjoy. How could he not though? There was so much about you that he thought was beautiful. 

Hanma hissed when your walls spasmed around his cock. That had to be your second orgasm since the two of you had gotten started. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to stop. “Shiiitt, yeah that’s it, babydoll. You love this cock, yeah? Does it feel good?” he cooed, wrapping his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him. 

You whined at his dirty talk. His voice was sending waves of pleasure throughout your body, earning many trembled from you. “H-Hanma! It’s so good.. fuck..” your eyes rolled backwards behind your lids. 

Hanma’s hand trailed down your backside, drawing random shapes into your spine. He knew you were overstimulated and drawing near your limit, but he thought that was the hottest thing ever. He missed you way too much to even think about halting his movements inside you. He needed you more than anything else. “I know, baby, I know..” he smooched your plump lips, beginning to quicken his assault on your tired cunt.

Your moans and cries of pleasure began to increase in volume. 

That was the best part of fucking in the backseat of his car. You could be as loud and as messy as you pleased and there would be zero interruptions. 

Hanma’s high was on the way. His cock was twitching inside you, and his balls were starting to tighten up. All he could think about was filling you up nice and full with his cum. The thoughts alone consumed him. He could only smirk devilishly at the ideas inside his brain. Just imagining you going back home with his cum in your womb, possibly leaking down the plush of your thighs. If he wanted to do some damage, he’d send you home to your older brother. A little message to let him know his promise went unfulfilled, and he was going to have to deal with it. 

He quickly shifted around so he had a better angle to hit the spots that made you fall apart. He used both of his hands to hold your hips into place while he started relentlessly fucking himself into you. Your jaw went slack and all you could do was take it. It was so fucking intense you swore the wind was knocked out of you. Your vision was blurred and white stars scattered through your eyes whenever his tip kissed at your g-spot.

Your pussy was making such a huge mess on his cock. A creamy white ring had circled around his dick from how wet you were. He was impressed. He completely underestimated what he was able to do to you with just a few thrusts.

Hanma pulled you close as his orgasm started hurtling towards him. He gritted his teeth from the intensity of the situation before him. There was no fucking way he was going to leave you alone after this. He wanted you. No, he fucking needed you with him. He didn’t give a shit about anybody else but you. Nobody was going to get between that. 

He smacked your ass as he bounced you on his cock. He was so ready to let go. He just couldn’t help himself anymore. “Really thought your shit brother was gonna keep me away from you and – fuck – this pussy? Nah.. this is all mine, babydoll. It’d take the world ending to keep me away from you..” he made you look at him as he spoke, staring directly into your cloudy eyes. 

Hanma then gasped when his climax washed over him. Hot, thick white spurts of his cum filled your pussy and covered your walls with cream. He held your hips down on his cock to make sure none of it slipped out. You whimpered at the sensation of warmth that had filled your abdomen. God, he drove you fucking insane, and you only wanted more. 

He dragged his lips along your lips and the tip of your nose, then up towards your forehead where he left several kisses on your sweaty skin. 

You slumped against his chest, letting your eyes fall shut for a brief moment. The soft music that played in the background filled your ears, but you completely tuned it out the second you lied against him. You were exhausted. You went beyond your limits and even Hanma was aware of that. However, he was in no rush to send you away. He wanted to lay with you just like this.

Maybe he could finally accept that the swell in his chest wasn’t just from having sex, but from the overwhelming feelings he had for you.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

I know "fuck canon" is always an option and generally the more sensible thing to do, but with last night's episode I had two smidgens of HOPE and now with Tim's apparent new interview I just want to crawl back into my cave again 🫥

Hi nonnie!

TLDR (cause I'm having THOUGHTS): I don't think anything is off the table, if I had to bet money I'd lay somewhat decent odds that Buck and Tommy get back together, and I don't think either side of the ship war has anything in particular that indicates victory.

I'll preface this by saying yes, 'fuck canon'is usually the more sensible option. 'Fuck canon' is where no one ever dies, people do not make stupid decisions, and couples never break up.

And I'll also preface this by saying that Buck is my favorite character (honestly one of my favorite characters of all time, not just this show) and my ultimate OTP is Buck/Happiness in this show, however he gets it and whoever gives it to him. I am quite happy being a multishipper and I started out in fandom spaces back in the mid-nineties, where the etiquette and relationship to the content were vastly, vastly different than today and that really colors the lense I view fandom through. In the ship war, I'm mostly Switzerland.

Still with me? Okay.

My main source of optimism re: Buck/Tommy is the simple fact that guys...911 is Not That Deep. It's a fun show (usually), predicated on ridiculous Situations (increasingly), and in movie terms is a cash-grab popcorn flick. Have they hit something with the characters and actors that often elevates it above its station? Absolutely. Are there parts that make you go, "whoa, this came from the shark on a highway weewoo show?" Of course! But 911 isn't fucking Inception. There's no hidden messages and jaw-dropping plot twists that No One Saw Coming.

Like...all the cries about "learn some media literacy you cretins!" really have me scratching my head because, uh, taking everything solely at face value--this absolutely is the Third Act Miscommunication in the relationship. Both parties expressed a desire for the relationship to be more. They broke up on the tried and true "I'm doing this for both our sakes'even though it hurts" and not a dealbreaker schism which they ABSOLUTELY could have done. Literally, one scene of "wow I can't wait to be a dad/oh, uh that's not something I want" and we have a reason to break up that has the exact same "no villains just circumstance" vibe.

On the other hand, it absolutely is a stopping point that is believably permanent.

They went out of their way to show how desperately much Buck wants to talk to Tommy (like we turned it into a meme, but they didn't really have to show him baking That Much) and how he's spiraling in a way we haven't really seen since Abby. In a Hallmark romcom this would be where the audience is reassured that our plucky protagonist has Real Feelings for the LI.

On the other hand, the show often uses Buck as comic relief and the keep away with the phone could absolutely be the indicator that this breakup isn't as serious as Buck thinks it is and he should move on.

The interviews are pretty disheartening, but the interviews for this show really honestly have always had a kind of weird monkey's paw quality to them. Like, they don't lie exactly, but there's a lot of misdirect.

As it stands now, the relationship 100% reads like a Hallmark romcom that is being written by people who Had a Gay Friend In College Guys, So of COURSE We Know What We're Doing...wait why are you discoursing?

On the other hand, as it stands now, it also wouldn't be surprising if this was the end. I honestly don't think they have 100% decided how it's going to go and the writing and especially the pacing this season has been so uneven that it's not hiding the flaws in the storytelling as well as it usually does.

But, if canon goes in a direction I don't like, I have no problem saying 'fuck canon' ;)

[mellowmistt]

The Sleepover-Chris Sturniolo (Part 2)

Summary: The following week after you and Chris slept together, things are tense, and whilst you’re trying to keep a low profile and act casual around Nick and Matt, things get heated again, and you are caught by one of his brothers..

Warnings: Swearing; fluff; unestablished relationship; NO use of Y/N

A/N: Make sure you have read The Sleepover-Chris Sturniolo (part 1, it’s pinned on my profile!)before reading this! Special mention @nickandhisdrpepper for the request <3

———————————

It was exactly a week since I was last at their house. Since the 'sleepover'. Since Chris…

I was with them again, getting lunch at a pizza restaurant. I had always enjoyed hanging around with Nick, Matt and Chris, most of the time I love it more than hanging around with my girlfriends. They had just always been there for me, and I know that they always will. I first met Matt in 5th grade, we sat next to each other in English and Science and immediately clicked. And of course after a few months I grew bonds with his brothers as I saw them more often. I just always saw them as my best friends, and I never imaged that what happened between Chris and I last week would have happened. Ever since we started high school and Chis started to change, as he was the first out of his brothers to start to mature, my feelings turned into more than just admiration of friendship. I started to gain more stronger feelings for him, seeing him in the school hallways and watching other girls trail him with their eyes. However, I didn't want to ruin what we already had, so I tried to supress those feelings as much as I could. I would never have thought that he returned those same feelings for me.

We found an empty booth near the back of the restaurant, I shuffled to the end, and Chris followed and sat next to me, Nick and Matt sat opposite.

"Mmmm, I'm just gonna get a pepperoni" Matt says as he scans the menu.

"Yeah same" Chris responds, looking over my arms at the menu that i'm holding.

"You guys are so boring you always get that" Nick says, side-eyeing them both before choosing his pizza.

"Honestly i'm just feeling plain cheese today, margarita" He adds, as he places the menu back into the holder.

"And you just called US boring" Chris chirps.

"Yeah i'll have a margarita too" I say, glancing at Chris, watching his smile slowly fade.

"So Matt, I heard you had quite the morning after I left last week, hangover get you good?" I ask, I felt Chris's gaze on me as I changed the subject to that day.

"Ugh tell me about it, my fucking head was pounding and then I had these two fucker's yelling at me for laying in my bed all day" Matt responds.

"I know the feeling"I reply, when I suddenly felt a hand on my thigh, I looked down, trying to act casual as if I was brushing something off my jeans, when I saw Chris's hand brushing over my leg. As I looked up again, I saw his smile in the corner of my eyes.

"What are you smiling at?" Matt asks with suspicion.

"I was just thinking about this tiktok I saw this morning" Chris says, adding a small chuckle at the end.

"What was it? Nick asks.

I looked at Chris, awaiting his made up video. The good thing about Chris is that he can just come out with the most random shit, so this should be easy for him. I raised my eyebrows as he glanced at me before he speaks.

"Uh, this little girl was walking around a zoo and this monkey was running around and the little girl didn't see it coming, so when she was turning to go back to her mom or whoever was filming her, she tripped over the monkey as it was running past" He says.

I couldn't help but start laughing, watching his smile as he was making up random shit and seeing Nick and Matt's confused faces was priceless.

"I saw that too, I feel bad for laughing she was cute!" I lie, avoiding suspicion as Nick and Matt were know looking at me, knowing I don't usually laugh so much at dumb videos like that.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick" I say, turning towards Chris, signaling for him to get up so I can shuffle out of the booth.

"Yeah I'm gonna go too while I'm up." Chris says. I give him a wide-eyed look as if to say 'What the fuck are you doing' as I brush past him.

Since it was only a small restaurant, the toilets consisted of two lockable rooms. Chris followed me into one, locking the door behind us.

"What are you doing! They could have saw you come in her with me, and what was that? With the hand? What if they noticed!"

"Relax," He cuts me off, as he grabs my hands, leaning in for a kiss.

"Okay we can't be in here long, and I do actually have to pee" I smile at him as I gently pulled away.

"I know, I just missed your lips kissing me, haven't seen you since the other day" He responds.

We glance in each other's eyes for a moment before responding. As much as I would love to just leave the restaurant with him right now, I couldn't risk anything.

"Chris, go back the he table, boys only take a minute tops to pee, we can't go back at the same time or risk being seen leaving the same toilet" I say with a small smile, I didn't want to sounds too harsh.

"Okay gorgeous, anything for you!" He replies, pulling my hands up to kiss them before smoothly gliding out of the room.

We were now back at the house, I was in the kitchen making chocolate chip cookies with Nick, Chris hovering around us, half helping. Matt was out, in a meeting.

"Okay, in the oven they gooo" Nick says, placing the tray into the oven, before his phone on the counter started singing out a ringtone.

"Oh, I gotta take this call, Chris clean the bowls!" He orders, running up the stairs to his room.

It was now just me and Chris. I started to gather all of the used utensils splayed all over the counter, and as i placed them into the sink I felt his hands grab my waist. He moved my hair away from my shoulder as he gently planted kisses on me.

"It was sooo annoying not being able to tell you how sexy you look when you're cooking" He whispers into my ear.

"Oh yeah?" I whisper back, turning to face him and placing my arms around his shoulders.

"Mhmmm" He mumbles with dark eyes, thirsting for me. He leans in to kiss me again, our tongues meet. He grabs my ass and lifts me up onto the counter next to the sink. I let out a small gasp, before smiling and reattatching my lips to his. It felt like I was under compulsion, maybe I had been craving him this past week in the same way that he had been longing for me. At this point the fear that we would get caught had completely left my body. I just wanted him. The smell of his cologne, the feeling of his hands on me, trailing my body down my thighs until he reaches the back of my knee and lifts it up slightly, supporting me, the other hand on the other side of my waist. Our heads slightly tilted as we indulged into eachother. One of the bowls smashes against the ground when I accidently knock it off the counter as I go to wrap my hand around Chris's head, trailing through his hair.

"What the fuck."

I let out as gasp as I pull away from Chris, quickly jumping off the counter, facing Matt who was standing at the top of the first set of stairs.

Shit.

Shit.

SHIT.

"Chris-" Matt starts to say as he walks closer.

"Matt shut the fuck up and relax" Chris says as he grabs the bowl that fell off the counter.

"How long has this been going on?" Matt asks, his voice sharp, and increasingly getting louder.

"What the fuck is going on?" Nick says, approaching down the stairs.

Matt justs stands there, still awaiting an answer from both of us, Nick next to him, confused.

"We were just cleaning up" Chris says, looking at Nick.

"Yeah, cleaning up each other's mouths!" Matt says, turning to Nick with a hand pointing towards the the counter.

"Matt!" Chris snaps.

"The fuck?" Nick replies, gazing at us both with confusion.

"You guys gonna explain yourselves or just stand there like fucking statues?" Matt asks, crossing his arms.

"It just happened...we had a..moment last week, I'm sorry." I say, fiddling with my fingers as I look between Matt and Nick.

Chris glances at me with empathetic eyes.

"I'm not." He says, before glancing back at his brothers again. "I love her, I always have.”

I look at him, slightly jaw dropped that he is admitting that. I glance back over to Nick and Matt.

"Well, shit." Nick finally says.

A/N: Should I continue with this as a series? Let me know 🫶

[book-of-baba-fett]

Revolve - Captain Rex x Fem!Reader

Summary: After months of thinking he was dead, Captain Rex comes back into your life. There will be time to figure out where you lie in a galaxy neither of you know anymore, but for now you can't keep your hands off him and Rex needs to show you how much he missed you.

Warnings: Smut (18+ only for this folks), oral sex (f receiving), boob & general body worship, PiV, praise kink, mentions of/light cockwarming, creampie

A/N: Inspired by Rex's return in The Bad Batch season 2, but no spoilers for the episode's plot. It's been a long time of writer's block, so i'm kicking up my brain again with some good old smut featuring our favorite blond captain. Divider by @galacticgraffiti

Word Count: 3.4k

Ao3 Link

Masterlist

You were always careful with how you left your apartment: Coruscant wasn’t a safe space to live, even before the Empire. Now there was a false sense of security, a cover brought by the end of the war that should make you feel comfort but you couldn’t lose the fear that something else would come to shake your world at its core. Thing were supposed to be safe, but you didn’t recognize the galaxy anymore. You couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder as you walked home, you never lingered in secluded spots for too long, maybe you were being paranoid, but ever since you the war ended you knew you weren’t safe. Maybe it was because you lost the one person who you knew would always look after you. So, you always triple check that your doors are locked before bed, that your security system was on, and would repeat the same motions when you left for work in the morning. So, tonight when you arrive home to an unlocked door, it’s more than a surprise.

You recognize the simple signs of disturbances; your chair slightly nudged to the side, a cloak resting over the back of your couch. Whoever came in was giving you warning signs so you wouldn’t be alarmed once you saw the shadow of their figure staring out your window.

And the last thing Rex ever wanted to do was frighten you.

At the sound of your keys landing on the counter, Rex turns to face you. He looks good for a 'dead' man. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, your feet frozen in place as you take in the man in front of you. You never believed the reports, couldn’t fathom that he had died in the crash that took his brothers. Still, it was like a ghost stood in front of you, and you were afraid if you acknowledged it, you would wake up from this wanted dream.

But then he says your name, the rumble of his voice too present to be a figment of your imagination. His eyes are filled with longing and disbelief even though he had sought you out; you would have teased him for it if you weren't in shock yourself.

You practically leap at him, and Rex is waiting with open arms; those strong, caring arms grasping you tightly as he tugs you into his chest. The vest he wears is so light you can feel his heart thudding in his chest, as runaway with glee as yours is too. He presses his face into your neck, smelling the scent of your shampoo, taking in your essence. HIs hands grasp your clothing, he needed this moment just as much as you did; this tangible proof that you still existed after everything else fell apart.

"Cyar'ika," He murmurs, his breath hot against the skin of your neck. Hu nuzzles into you and you feel the stubble growing on his cheek; a new thing for him. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

"I thought I lost you," you manage to squeak out, eyes burning from tears threatening to spill over.

"I wanted to be here sooner," you can feel the weight of honesty on his words. Rex pulls back, his eyes once again finding you. Now that you're closer, you can take him in much better. A pale scar on his temple is the only sign of injury on him. He rests his hand on your cheek, his thumb circling over where tears had already managed to stain. "I would have been. But it wasn't safe."

"It still isn't," you interject, your worry for him renewed in a different way. "So much has happened so quickly. And I don't believe what they're saying about the Jedi being traitors, it just doesn't make sense."

"It's all lies," Rex insists in a harsher tone than he's ever used with you. He dials it back once he sees the apprehension on your face, pecking a kiss on your forehead before exhaling. His face is lined with exhaustion, his eyes tired, and you can feel the anger laced with guilt radiating off him. "Palpatine was using them, using all of us, all along."

"What happened?" you almost don't want to know, but you have to understand where he's been, everything he's dealt with. You can't take his burdens, but you can help him with the weight.

"It's not a quick tale," he says with a mirthless chuckle, that deep sound that you love so much hidden behind the dead seriousness.

"Well, I'm here to listen," You nuzzle against his hand, planting a kiss in his palm.

"Later. Right now, though..." Rex's tone gets lower, his hand sliding to your neck as the arm around your back squeezes you tighter. “It’s been too long since I kissed you.”

You don’t have time to reply before his lips are on yours, a moan catching your throat as his grasp tightens. Rex is slow, tentative at first, as if he’s savoring the moment to make up for lost time. But when you pull back for air, it’s like a switch flips in him; his eyes are dark with desire, hooded as they look over you.

He guides you back to the bedroom he’s spent so many nights in. He knows your place like it was his own, and one day you had wanted to make it so. Now you know that day could never be.

Rex kisses you again, hungrier and insisting as his hands find the waistline of your pants. You can’t hold in the giggle that escapes your lips at his frantic attempts to take your clothes off. You help him as best you can, lifting your shirt up. Rex makes an indignant huff when he has to release your lips, but its quickly silenced as you stand in front of him in your bra and panties. His hands reach around your back, his deft fingers skillfully removing your bra. His eyes are locked on your face as he slides it off you, watching the way your lips tremble in anticipation.

Rex’s touch was reverential; his fingertips grazing over your skin, raising goosebumps as his touch passed. Your nipples pebbled, from the cold air or from the arousal of the heat of his hands against you, you weren’t sure.

“I missed you,” you whimper as he nudges you to sit on the bed. That doesn’t encompass all you’ve felt in the last few months. Nothing could compare to the ache you felt without him. But you couldn’t burden him with that, not when he was dealing with so much.

“I’ve missed you too, Cyare,” Rex leans down and clasps both his hands around your face. “But I’m here now. It’s just you and me.”

He’s quick to remove his clothes, eager to feel his skin against yours. You slide back as he does, taking him in as you prop up on your elbows. His chest is littered with more scars than you remember, something that frightens you. But you can’t let your fears get in the way of this moment.

You spread your legs wider, smirking at the way Rex’s eyes linger on your panties, the only time of clothing either of you are wearing. He prowls to the bed, slowly climbing on it and over you until he’s kissing you again.

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” Rex murmurs against your lips.

“You could mention it more often,” you can’t resist the urge to tease, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach. Rex blows a huff of air against your lips as he chuckles in response.

“Alright then,” he starts, his voice dangerously low as he presses up.

“You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, pecking a kiss on the corner of your mouth. His lips trail down to your jaw, his breath hot on you as if meets the sensitive skin of your neck. You yelp in surprise as his teeth meet your skin, nipping lightly before his tongue laves over the sensitive spot. “And so sexy.”

He makes his way down to your heaving chest. His palm cups on of your breasts, squeezing as he plants open mouthed kisses on your sternum. His eyes meet yours once again, a slight smugness in them as his tongue peaks out and flicks over your nipple.

“Love your perfect tits,” Rex groans before sucking your nipple between his lips. You whimper from the pleasure, your cheeks hot and your core aching. He moves to your other breast, sucking on that nipple too as you squirm beneath him. You try to press your legs together to release some of the need settling in at the apex of your thighs, but Rex’s body between you prevents that. But he knows what you want, and starts to grind his hardness against you. You gasp as you feel how large he is, his hot and heavy cock rutting against you. Droplets of precum smear against your lower abdomen as Rex lazily thrusts, still focused on your chest.

When he decides he’s done, he scoots lower down your body, his tongue tracing his path down before he gets to your panties. Rex looks up at you, his brown eyes filled with sinful wanting as he licks a stripe over your covered slit, tasting the tang of your arousal that had already dampened your panties. You moan his name, one of your legs crossing over his back to nudge him closer to you.

“Patience,” Rex tsks, that small, confident grin that drives you insane still on his face. His fingers toy with the band on your panties. “Only good girls get rewarded.”

You hmph, prepared to sass him back when he raises an eyebrow at you. You put on a sweet smile, and nudge your legs slightly further apart, waving your hips as you wiggle.

“I’ve just missed how good you make me feel,” you sound breathless as you say it. “I can’t handle being teased right now.”

You try to shift again but Rex holds you steady. He presses a kiss to your thigh; the roughness of his stubble sends a shiver down your spine. You must be dripping in your panties, your need for him to give you everything taking over. “Rex; please.”

Rex was a resolved man, but he always had a weakness where you were concerned. “Anything for you, cyar’ika.”

Rex loops his fingers around your waistband and slowly slides your panties down, groaning when he sees your glistening lips. Once they’re off, he crawls back to you on the bed. His strong arms wrap around your thighs, his large hands holding your thighs steady and open for him as he dives in.

You moan as soon as his tongue glides through your lips, you try to grind your hips against his face but his grip is strong, holding you in place as he tastes you. He licks a long, flat strip up your slit, then circles over your clit with his tongue, You can’t hold in the way your breath hitches as he flicks over your clit, teasing you as he begins to finally relieve some of that pressure aching in you. 

Rex groans against your skin as he tastes you, thinking of how much he missed this, missed you. It’s cliche to say, but he eats you like a man starved; he had been so long deprived of you that now he needed to relish it, savor it. Something ignited in him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he buried his face there. You knew if he wasn’t holding you steady, your legs would be squeezing against his head. Your hands jump to the back of his head, your nails probably scratching the back of his head, but he gives no sign he minds. In fact he seems to like it; he groans into your core, the vibrations against your sensitive skin making you keen.  

His eyes dart up as you gasp, a challenge and a cockiness in his eyes that sets you on fire. He unwinds one of his arms from your legs, the limb weighted with the signs of that sweet soreness you’ll feel in the morning. You’re about to offer Rex some teasing remark for it, when you feel a thick finger probing at your entrance and your words turn into a moan. 

“Relax, cyar’ika, I’ve got you,” Rex croons as his finger slowly drags in and out of you. He puls it in and out of you, slowly increasing his pace, before adding a second finger in. Your walls cling to his fingers, tightly clenching around them as Rex fingers you. He crooks his finger, finding your g-spot with such a skill and ease; he knows your body so well, knows exactly what to do to make you feel good. 

With only one hand to keep you in place, your squirming has increased; your body acting of its own mind to chase his fingers as they thrust into your pussy. The way his fingers fill you is near perfect, second only to his cock. You can feel the pressure cresting in your body with every stroke of his fingers inside you, your breath leaving you in sighs as your chest begins to heave. He slips another finger in, stuffing you and warming you up for what’s to come and you swear you’re close to seeing the Maker. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Rex grunts out, his voice husky with arousal. You can feel his breath on your pussy as he encourages you. “I can feel how close you are. Go on, let go for me.”

He leans in and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking as his fingers stick with their consistent motion against your g-spot. You cry out his name, your body tensing as you climb that peak, finally toppling over with a swipe of his dexterous fingers. Your vision dots white and your voice cracks as your head rolls back. Rex keeps sucking your clit and fingering you as your orgasm washes over you, only slowing when your body relaxes again. 

“How was that?” Rex asks, his smirk telling you he already knew the answer. He pushes himself back up, climbing over you so he could kiss you; you could taste yourself on his lips.

“Hmm could have been bett-oh,” Your teasing reply is cut off by Rex kissing you again, his hand slips to your neck, his fingers clasping around it. He only gives a light pressure, not enough hurt you in any way but enough to remind you who made you feel that good. You can feel his cock, hot and hard against your thigh as his kiss grew more insistent, tongue meeting tongue as your arousal built up again. Rex can’t wait any longer either. 

 “I need you.” He grunts out in between kisses, needy and purposeful. 

“Then take me,” you reply, out of breath, ready to offer him everything you have. 

Rex enters you slowly, his cock stretching you, filling you in the way you craved. Your hands clenched around his biceps, nails digging into his skin as you hissed from the slight pain that came from getting used to him. But maker, it was so worth it. Rex’s muscles were clenched as he held himself back from roughly snapping his hips to yours; he wanted to take you, claim you entirely as his and Maker knows you would willingly let him. But that restraint made those first moments all the more savorful, something to cling to before you lost yourselves.

Rex groans roughly as his cock hilts completely inside you, pressing his forehead against yours. He stills for a moment, breathing heavily as he feels you around him, warm and tight. He loves the feeling of you beneath him trembling with want, loves the way you bite your lips as you try and hold your whimpers inside. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you, taking you in and reading you to judge when you’re ready for him to move.

He fills you so perfectly, you would let him lay here for hours, semi-crushing you with his cock inside you as your cunt squeezes around him. You would have him use you in any way he wanted and you would let him. But now there’s one thing alone you want, you meet his eyes and nod, digging your nails tighter into his skin as you beg, “Move, please Rex .”

You cry in pleasure as he thrusts back and slams his hips back into you so hard you feel him in your gut. You’re still moaning when he thrusts again, just as hard, just as deep.

This wasn’t your soft and tender Rex; you knew he was there, under the hardened layers of a man who had lost everything. This Rex is still kind, still devoted, but he has a need burning through him. A desire to take you and consume you. His grip around you is harsh, his arms squeezing you as they wrap around your torso so hard you half wonder if he could break you. His thrusts near punishing, his cock plunging deep into you. You can’t hold in your moans and cries; and Rex doesn’t want you to. He wants to hear you, needs to know how you fall apart under him, how you call his name, how you beg for him.

“That’s my good girl,” he grits out, his voice so low it sparked a fuse inside you. His eyes flashed as you clenched around him. “Taking me so well. You look so beautiful like this.”

“You feel so good,” you tell him. But there’s a smugness on his face.

“I know, princess,” you swear you could cum right then. He knows what he’s doing to you. He can feel the way your body trembles beneath him, how your legs quake around his waist, how your cunt is leaking with arousal all by what’s he’s doing to you.

You clutch onto him likes he’s your life line, and in a way he is. Everything revolves around him, in a way that fills you with bliss when he’s with you and a way that filled you with dread these last few months without him. You’re still torn under the surface, wanting to cry in joy and sorry over ever emotion running through you at seeing him again but you’ll have time for that later, time to figure out what comes next. Right now, the only thing that matters is he’s here with you.

Every stroke of his cock inside you knocks the air out of you; you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve moaned his name or how many times your name has left his lips like a prayer. His praises for you falling between every thrust, igniting that fire in your gut as he pounds into you.

Rex holds you tighter and you feel like he could snap you in half; his thrusts going faster and faster, his grunts in your ear getting louder. A layer of sweat beads on both your bodies, the smack of your hips meeting is lewd but heavenly.  Your breath is pitching, every time Rex moves his cock hits you in a place so deep as he pushes you closer and closer to ecstasy. He can feel you pulsing around him, hear the way your voice is cracking and he knows you’re about to come.

“Come on mesh’la, that’s it,” Rex orders hoarsely, his voice rugged and tense as he holds himself together for a little bit longer, “come for me.”

You start to see stars as your orgasm hits you. Rex fucks your harder as you come, his breath loud as he chases his own orgasm with you. Your pussy clenches around Rex’s thick cock, milking him dry as he grunts out and spills inside you. You should be embarrassed by how loud you are, knowing there’s no way your neighbors can’t hear you yell Rex’s name but you can’t bother to care. Rex’s thrusts speed up as he empties himself into you, until he presses all the way in once more when he’s done, filling you into most sinfully delightful way as he collapses on top of you.

You both lay there for an immeasurable amount of time; his cock still filling you up, plugging your mixed releases that slowly leak out of you as he softens. His lips are in your neck, softly kissing you as he murmurs his adorations into your skin. Your fingers trace circles on his back, over the scars that litter his body. There are conversations to be had, plans to be made: but nothing else matters in this moment more than having your Rex back, safe with you.

--

Taglist & Rex Hoes (fill out this form on my masterlist if you want to be added!)

@stankferrik @nyravioppri @pinkiemme @fivesarctrooper1 @twistedstitcher27 @frietiemeloen @galacticgraffiti @a-c-lee @ashotofspotchka @itsagrimm @rexandechosandwich @stankferrik @nyravioppri @mavendeb @rain-on-kamino @alwayssnivellus @amyroswell @Sailingthehighseas @lucyysthings @manqoz @lady--kenobi @punkpirate82 @rowansparrow @starstofillmydream @sunshinesdaydream @lucyysthings @hotpinkplastoid @fordo-kixed-rex @ilikemymendarkandfictional @babygirlrex0504 @djarrex @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @fett-djarin

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

October 31, 2018 - 7:30pm

cw: angst, established relationship, hurt/no comfort [ao3]

“How many times are we going to have this conversation, Kento?”

Her husband put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, my love. I am. This was never what I wanted for us.”

“Then why don’t you change it? Why are you still working yourself to death?”

Nanami dragged his hands down his face. “There are people that rely on me. Children. You know I wanted out before it ever got to this point, but I can’t abandon them now.”

Her face twisted. “What about our children, Kento? How much longer are we going to wait?”

He slumped, and guilt flared in her stomach. It was a low blow and they both knew it. Nanami and his wife, Lina had wanted children for years, but it was never the right time. Nanami’s job was always too demanding. In his darker moods he considered it a lapse of judgement that he had allowed Lina to shoulder the burden of loving him, let alone bringing children into it. He had told himself for years that he would marry and settle down when he was out of the sorcery game for good. He never wanted his spouse to lie awake wondering if he’d be coming home alive.

Unfortunately for Nanami’s virtuous plans, he had fallen hard and fast for Lina. The moment they met, wide, earnest eyes locking over the pastry case in his favorite bakery, he knew that she was a woman he would break his rules for.

Lina had always known that loving Kento would come with sacrifices. He had always been honest with her about the realities of his life, and she had never regretted the trade. Recently, though, the late nights had been piling up. Nanami would stagger through the door at two or three in the morning, his handsome face bloodied and bruised. He never wanted to talk about what had happened on those nights, and she would patch him up and comfort him as best as she could. But even when he was lying beside her in their bed, her husband felt like he was a million miles away.

The work-life boundaries he had been so careful to maintain were crumbling, and Lina was terrified of what would happen when they were completely gone. It was that fear that she was hiding with her anger now.

“Do you even care about me any more? Maybe it would be easier if you could come home to an empty apartment. No one to worry about whether you’re alive or dead.”

Nanami recoiled like he’d been slapped. “Is that how you think I feel?”

“I don’t know!” Lina cried. “That’s the problem, Kento, I never know! You’re always so stoic, so goddamn self-sacrificial, I never know what’s going on in your head. I don’t need you to protect me!”

He stepped closer, reaching for her hands. “I know. I know. But you don’t understand…” Nanami cut himself off with a curse, knowing it was the wrong thing to say.

Lina jerked her hands away from his. “You won’t give me the chance to!” They stared at each other for a long moment, breathing hard. Nanami clenched his fists at his sides, aching to reach out to her but unwilling to try again after she pulled away. Nanami’s phone rang out in the silence, startling them both.

“You have to take that, right?” Lina rolled her eyes.

“No. I don’t. Nothing is more important than this.” Nanami looked pained, but resolutely ignored the call. That is, the first time. As soon as the ringtone cut off, it started back up again. Whoever was on the other line wasn’t giving up. “Please, love, talk to me. I’m listening.” Nanami switched off the ringer and made a show of placing the phone on the coffee table.

Where it promptly started vibrating so hard that it fell to the floor, face-up. Call from: Gojo Satoru.

Lina bit her lip and looked away. “You really do have to take it.”

“I don’t care, okay? Fuck that. I’m clocked out. I want to fix this, Lina, please.”

She bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. “I feel so selfish.”

“Don’t say that-”

“No, I am. I’m selfish because I know how strong you are, and how much they need you, and I still want to keep you here with me.” Lina’s voice broke. “I know that other people would be hurt if I asked you to give it all up, and I still-” She swallowed a sob and closed the distance between them, pressing her face into his chest. “Kento, I’m still asking.”

Nanami felt the world shudder on its axis. He knew she would never ask that of him if she didn’t mean it, if they hadn’t reached a breaking point. “Lina…”

His phone buzzed again from the floor. This time a contact photo flashed on the screen, a grinning boy with pink hair. In a few seconds Nanami registered the call, how late at night it was, how rarely the kid contacted him directly. Something was wrong. Lina sensed it too, and her face fell as she stepped aside. “Take it.”

“Itadori, what’s wrong?” Nanami pressed the phone to his ear, trying to calm his breathing while keeping his eyes on his wife, who had curled into herself on the couch. “Why are you calling at this time?”

The boy sounded frantic. “Nanamin, Gojo Sensei said he hasn’t been able to reach you! There’s something happening in Shibuya, a curtain-” static crackled over his words, “civilians- need help-”

“Itadori? Itadori I can’t hear you, what’s going on? A curtain was cast in Shibuya?”

Lina’s head snapped up, watching her husband nervously. The call dropped with a dismal beep, and Nanami turned to her. “Lina, you heard everything.” He looked helpless. “Itadori is a child. I have a duty…”

She shook her head, eyes fixed on the floor. “I know, Kento. I know how you feel about those kids, and I love you for it. But I can’t take back what I said.”

He nodded gravely, and crossed the room in two steps to kneel by the couch. He reached for her hands, and this time, she didn’t pull away. “I love you, Lina. I want to give you the life you deserve. I want to give our family that life.”

He brushed away her tears with the back of his hand. “I’m needed in Shibuya. But after that, my love,” his voice shook, the closest he could get to tears in front of her. “My wife. I’ll be all yours. I swear it.”

“I want to believe you,” she whispered. “But there’s always going to be another mission.”

Nanami shook his head firmly. “Not after this. I promise you.” She watched him wordlessly as he strapped on his blunt blade and pressed his glasses to his nose. “Itadori is growing so quickly. He hardly needs me anymore, Lina. Really.” He shrugged on his blazer and she rose to tighten his speckled tie and smooth his lapels like she always did.

“I love you, Kento.”

“I love you too, Lina. More than anything.” She had already turned away when he looked back, halfway out the door.

[nuvoloso]

What's Happening?

Oikawa x m!reader (he/him/his)

A blind date? Why the hell not. Y/n is a wing spiker that plays city volleyball, not for the school, and Iwaizumi decides to play matchmaker.

The ~~ means a change in view or time.

Word Count: 4465

~

Why the hell is Iwaizumi so insistent on this? Y/n thought, as the volleyball player had begun berating him about going out with one of his friends. Iwa had been doing his damn best to get y/n to agree to a blind date with someone on the volleyball team, but he'd seen the guys on that team and nobody had really piqued his interest. Yet, here he was, again, for what felt like the thirtieth time.

"Just say you will, just go out to dinner or a movie or something simple. I've just got a feeling you'll like him, plus you've got nothing to lose. Nobody approaches you anyway." Y/n scoffed, giving Iwa a good shove in the process. He only laughed, "Oh what, you're mad I won't lie to you?"

"I'm mad you said that so loudly, we're in the middle of the hallway." Y/n complained, Iwa only rolling his eyes.

"Well if you'd just accept my invitation I wouldn't have to gloat about your terminal loneliness." Y/n couldn't even think of a witty response to match the absolute destruction Iwa brought with every word he spoke. "So, you're in?" He asked, y/n finally giving up and accepting his proposition.

Iwa grinned triumphantly, and nearly turned to leave, but y/n grabbed his arm, and stuck a finger in his face, "But I swear to god, if this goes south I will break every single one of your fingers so you'll never get to play volleyball ever again." Iwa let out a long whistle at y/n's threat, obviously not very feeling very threatened by it.

"I wouldn't be trying so hard if I didn't think it'd be successful. Just give him a chance, his first impressions aren't the best." Fantastic. "I'll send you details when I confirm with him, ok? Does after practice tonight work for you?" Reluctantly, y/n nodded and let Iwa go. They parted ways and headed towards their classrooms then, y/n's anxiety skyrocketing at the thought of going on a date with someone he didn't even remotely know.

He tried to relax during classes, telling himself over and over that it would be ok because Iwa must be close friends with whoever it was, but the pit in his stomach just kept growing. What if he actually liked whoever it was, but it wasn't mutual? What if he couldn't make conversation and it was just super awkward the whole time? A swarm of 'what ifs' crowded his mind and he didn't get much work done. When the day finally ended, he about booked it out of the classroom, hoping that getting to his practice would help take his mind off things.

In his rush, he ran straight into the back of someone just barely taller than him who'd randomly stopped in the middle of the walkway.

"Shit, sorry. Are you ok?" Y/n asked the stranger, helping him pick up a handful of flyers he had dropped at the collision. He looked to be around the same age as y/n, messy brown hair and gentle features, he looked incredible. There wasn't a single mark on his fair skin, and even though his hair looked untamed, it seemed to fall exactly where the stranger willed it to. He also had a pretty lean build, y/n thought he'd probably be really good at volleyball if he didn't already play it.

The stranger flashed him a smile, "I'm alright, I shouldn't have stopped like that, sorry. Thanks for the help though, you can keep one of them if you'd like." Y/n looked down at the papers he was helping pick up and noticed they were flyers for the volleyball club's match this weekend against Shiratorizawa.

"Are you on the club team here?" Y/n asked, though he felt it was a stupid question given that he was promoting it by hanging up these flyers.

The stranger took no offense to his question though, and nodded. "I'm actually the captain, and the main setter."

"Uh, wow, I'm sorry I'm taking up your time, I'm sure you're busy." He shrugged, the two of them soon standing after having gathered all the loose flyers. "If you want," He offered, "I could take some of the flyers and hand them out to guys on my team, I'm sure they'd like to watch." The captain gave him a slightly confused look, but happily handed him a small stack of the papers.

They started walking towards the main entrance of the school and continued talking about volleyball, the captain immensely interested in y/n's team.

"So you play on a team composed of people from all around Miyagi, not one neighborhood or school in particular? And its aged 16-24?" Y/n nodded in response to each of his questions. "That sounds like it could be a lot of fun, but who do you play against? How do you guys practice if everybody's spread out?"

He explained it the best he could, their system was slightly more complex than the school's. "Those of us that live close to each other practice everyday, and once a week we choose somewhere in Miyagi to meet up and practice as a group. There are other groups in Miyagi that we play against, and some from other prefectures too. City league sports are actually pretty popular, but a lot of people don't know they exist because they're wrapped up in their school's club."

They kept going back and forth until they'd reached the separation point, the stranger headed over to the gyms, and y/n headed out onto the sidewalk to get to his own court.

"Before we go our separate ways, what's your name? I'd like to join one of your practices sometime if that's ok." Y/n was honestly elated to hear that from the captain. Sure Iwa had told him all about how great their team was, and even a little about this captain, but y/n really wanted to see it for himself.

"You can just call me y/n, I'm in class 3-B. What about you?" He replied, extending his hand.

"Oikawa, Tōru." He stated, firmly shaking y/n's hand. "I'm in 3-A, It's nice to meet you y/n, I look forward to playing with you sometime." Oikawa left, off to his gym, and y/n off to his court. He was contemplating texting Iwa to cancel his blind date, not wanting to go out with someone on Oikawa's team after having just met him. He'd rather just go out with the captain, but with the way he looked? There was no way he didn't have a girlfriend or something already.

Y/n tried to keep his mind off the date and the captain, he just wanted to play his game without any distractions.

He was unsuccessful. He was a wing spiker for his team, and he missed well over half of the sets he got. Luckily it was just a regular practice, not the full group one, that was in a few days still. He repeatedly apologized to his teammates, but they didn't hold it against him.

"You seem pretty lost today, what's going on?" His setter asked, while everyone was getting some water.

Y/n sighed, looking up at the sky and taking in the clouds. He loved that they practiced outside, it was so much nicer than being stuck in a gym. "A friend of mine who's on the volleyball team at school has been begging to set me up on a blind date with someone on his team, and I finally agreed to it. It'll be just after we're both done today."

"That sounds like fun! Why aren't you more excited?" Y/n shrugged,

"I met the captain of their team today, and he's everything I could want, but there's no way someone like him is single. I just think it'll be weird if I go out with someone on his team while we just met, I don't know." He mumbled, but his teammates understood his unease about the situation.

One of the older guys on their team, he'd just turned 21, clapped him on the back. "You never know, maybe he's the one you got set up with!" Y/n hadn't even thought about that, Iwa did talk about that captain pretty often...But there was still no way he was single, surely. "Just don't think about it to hard, it's always been your downfall. Live in the moment, y/n!" He weakly smiled at his teammates, thanking them for the confidence boosters.

They got back to their practice shortly after, and y/n's tact started returning.

About an hour and half later his practice had come to an end, and he finally got to start freaking about his blind date. When he got home, he destroyed his closet looking for something to wear, not loving any of his options. He stared at his clothes for several minutes before he realized they weren't going to change by him staring at them. He opted to take a shower and come back, hoping he'd maybe get an idea along the way.

When he'd finished, he threw on a pair of sweats and went back to his room, where he was surprised to find someone sifting through his clothing pile.

"Iwa?" He questioned, guessing that it was his friend by the back of his head. The spiky hair wasn't hard to miss, and soon the intruder had turned around and waved to him.

"Your sister let me in, I figured you'd need help finding an outfit." Y/n rolled his eyes, but didn't get in the way, secretly grateful for the help. "You should wear this, you're going to dinner so it's better to be like business casual. I know that's what he's going for..." Iwa mumbled, now kicking through Y/n's shoes until he found something he liked. Y/n took the outfit from his hands so he could more thoroughly dig through all of his belongings.

"I'll go put this on I guess...?" Iwa was too captivated by his current task to say anything, so y/n just disappeared back into the bathroom to change. He'd picked out a black button down that y/n had forgotten he owned, and a pair of pleated off-white slacks. When he'd assembled it, he actually quite liked it, albeit a bit surprised by Iwa's ability to style an outfit.

He went back to the room, Iwa complimenting him on how it looked. "Now, just add some accessories and keep a few buttons undone and you'll be ready. I set shoes by the door for you, so let's go." Y/n nodded, quickly putting on a few of his favorite rings and a small silver chain, leaving a few of the buttons on his shirt undone like Iwa had told him.

Iwa lead him out the door and they walked for a few blocks, y/n soon knowing where they were going. He'd seen the restaurant a few times, not actually having gotten a chance to try it yet. Iwa sent him off on his own once they were across the street from the restaurant.

"Good luck! Don't take it too seriously, have some fun ok?" He vigorously shook y/n's shoulders before pushing him towards the crosswalk. Y/n gave him a final wave, and made his way to the restaurant.

~

Oikawa checked his watch, he was pretty early. He didn't mind though, he'd be able to get a good table and get some time to figure out how he wanted to play tonight. He'd agreed to the blind date because it was Iwa suggesting it, he knew that despite the dick he was, Iwa wouldn't set him up with someone he wouldn't at least somewhat like. After earlier though, he didn't really want to do this. Bumping into y/n was the highlight of his day, he'd immediately found the guy more than attractive. He acted distant though, as if he didn't want to get close to Tōru for some reason, but he couldn't be sure, they'd just met.

You're not here for him though, focus. As much as he wanted the evening to already be over, he would entertain his date and ensure they both had a nice enough time. He'd hate for it to be a total waste of time and money so he told himself he'd stick it through no matter what.

Several minutes passed, and it was nearly the agreed upon time now, Oikawa becoming slightly nervous he'd be stood up even though they didn't know each other.

"Eh? Oikawa? What're you doing here?" He'd been looking at the menu, but the familiar voice jarred him. He looked over, and noticed the waitress was gesturing for him to sit, and saying she'd be back to take our orders in a few minutes.

"Y/n! I'm, uh-my friend set me up on a blind date, what a coincidence seeing you here. You must be meeting your boyfr- I mean your partner or something. You look great!" Oikawa felt his face heating up, he shouldn't have just assumed that y/n was queer, and now he'd made things weird, awesome.

Y/n didn't seem phased by his words though, in fact he started laughing. "That damn Hajime." The realization soon settled on Oikawa, y/n was his blind date. Here he'd been, hoping that it would happen, and he had gotten exactly what he'd wanted.

"Well, it's good to see you again, so soon!" Y/n smiled, "What're the odds?" Oikawa chucked, relieved y/n hadn't reacted strangely to his mumblings before. Y/n opened his menu, sifting through the options, but couldn't seem to pick one out.

"Can I recommend something?" Oikawa asked.

Y/n looked up at him and immediately closed his menu, setting his gaze on Oikawa, lightly laughing as he accepted his invitation. "God please, there's so much to chose from I can barely think." Oikawa giggled and pointed out a few options that had caught his eye, but he noticed that y/n wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. He just kept his eyes on Oikawa while he spoke, it felt like he was more focused on his movements than what he was actually saying.

Oikawa quieted when the waitress came back and asked for their orders, y/n gesturing for him to go first. "I'll have a bowl of Nabeyaki Udon, please." She smiled at him, and moved her focus to y/n.

"I'll have the same, thank you." She nodded, and left the two once again.

"Not very creative, y/n." He commented, y/n quickly rolling his eyes.

"I couldn't decide! If it's good enough for you to eat, I'm sure it'll be more than fine for me too." Y/n nervously laughed, Oikawa noticing him shifting in his seat and playing with his hands. He was nervous. Oikawa couldn't decide whether he wanted to say to say something or not, he didn't want to make things worse by any means but he didn't want y/n to be that nervous to be on a date with him.

He pursed his lips for a moment, then did his best to offer the nervous a kind smile. "Why're you so shaken up? Didn't want it to be me?" He joked, hoping y/n would pick up on the tone in his voice.

Thankfully, it seemed like he had. "No, no, I'm glad it's you! I mean, it's not a bad thing that it's you. It's actually kind of nice since we already met." He rambled, but the nervous energy that surrounded him seemed to fade. "I just, I dunno, I couldn't imagine that you could possibly be...single, I guess." He said, Oikawa's eyebrows raising in surprise. "No offense! It's just that you're so, charismatic and uh, yeah you're- fuck." He buried his head in his hands, Oikawa chuckling at his state.

"It's ok, maybe I was just waiting for you to come along..." He smirked, y/n's head moving from his hands onto the table, the tips of his ears having turned pink. "Aw, blushing for me? I'm honored!" Y/n couldn't even attempt to look at Oikawa.

"Will you shut up for a few minutes so I can fucking relax?!" Oikawa laughed, and reached his arms out to rest his hands on y/n's.

"No." When y/n felt Oikawa's hands on his own, he immediately looked up at him. He didn't try to move his hands out from under Tōru's, which he was grateful for, but he couldn't seem to string any words together.

The waitress saved him, having reappeared at their table with the food they'd ordered. Oikawa retracted his hands from y/n's as his and the other's bowls were placed in front of them. They both thanked her and started digging into their food. Things were quiet for several minutes, neither really wanting to attempt conversation while they ate, but Tōru could tell the tension between them had largely dissipated.

After they'd eaten, they made small talk, about hobbies, favorite colors, all the usual. Eventually, the check came to them and Oikawa managed to pay for everything, much to y/n's dismay. They'd argued as much as they could've until the waitress had shown up again and Oikawa forced the bill out of y/n's hands.

"I'll pay next time, it's only fair." Y/n said as they were leaving the restaurant.

"Next time? Another date, you mean?" He questioned, hoping to see y/n change colors again. This time though, y/n put a sliver of confidence in himself and his response.

"Obviously, you couldn't keep your eyes or your hands to yourself. Of course there'd be another date." The way he raised an eyebrow at Oikawa reminded him a bit of himself, but he loved that y/n could dish it back to him. "Anyway," he ventured, "Can I walk you home? Unless you wanted to do something else."

Truthfully, Tōru didn't want the night to end. He longed to come up with activity after activity so he could stay with y/n, he had a calming presence which helped ease Tōru's ever-crowded mind. He was always thinking about volleyball and school, always about how he could be improving or what he'd been doing wrong. But tonight - tonight he hadn't thought about anything except for y/n, making him laugh or blush, or just listening to what he had to say.

"Hey, are you there? Did I scare you or something?" He looked up, now realizing he'd totally spaced out and didn't even know for how long.

He blinked a few times, and looked around. Apparently they'd ended up walking to some park he didn't immediately recognize. "Sorry, I just got distracted, my bad. Also, where are we?" Y/n lightly laughed and looked around, apparently also not having realized they'd kept walking directionless.

"This, oh this is the park where I practice! I guess I came here out of habit, the court we use is over there." He pointed over to where a net was set up and there was a rectangle of concrete with painted lines. "So, uh, did you want me to walk you home? Or...?" Ah right his question from earlier. Let's try not to forget to answer it this time.

"Well, I don't have plans for the rest of the evening, and it's not super late yet... But if you do, then we can totally-"

"I don't." Y/n interrupted, his clam gaze making Oikawa a bit anxious. Ever since they left the restaurant, the vibes had completely switched, Oikawa was forgetting who he was and what was going on while y/n flirted and stayed collected. "I've still got my keys, I could grab a ball if you want to hit a few." Finally, something Tōru understood. If there was one thing he couldn't look bad doing, it was volleyball.

"If you insist." He replied. "Try not to get too intimidated though, I'm one of the best y'know." Again, y/n didn't falter at his attempt to fluster him.

"But you haven't made it to nationals like Miya has, so why should I be scared?" MIYA? Y/n knew someone who played at the national level? Now he wasn't so sure about what he'd said. Of course he knew he was a fantastic setter, one of the best in his own opinion, but he'd not played against or with someone who was a regular at nationals.

At an attempt to collect himself, he waved off y/n's comment. "So what? Just because I haven't made it to nationals yet doesn't mean I'm not the best setter out there."

"I guess we'll just have to see." Y/n shot back, before jogging over to the storage shed near the court. He dug out a volleyball and tossed it to Oikawa, who gently received it without a second thought.

"You said you're wing spiker, right?" He asked, y/n nodded. "What kind of set do you like?" This time, y/n only shrugged.

"You'll just have to figure it out, 'best setter out there'." He sneered, walking onto the concrete platform and towards the right side. Oikawa scoffed and went off towards the left. I'll find out, on the first one. He told himself, though it wasn't the most realistic, but he always like a challenge.

Oikawa set, and y/n spiked over and over again, Oikawa priding himself on figuring out what y/n liked within his first (but likely his second or third) set. They only stopped when it had gotten too dark out to see very clearly over the net, both of them having a slight sweat. As y/n put the ball back, Oikawa asked him more about how he knew the person from nationals, it bothered him that y/n might have had a setter that he thought was better.

"Oh, Miya? God I don't even remember how we met, I think he plays for a city team in his spare time." Y/n said, "Yeah, we met at a tournament. His team beat us, but only barely, we did five sets and it was down to the last, the score I think was 20-22 in the end." Oikawa whistled, he knew how exhausting a game like that could be. "Anyway, after we played against each other, he approached me and almost begged me to let him set for me." He laughed to himself, but Oikawa's mind was everywhere. "We played a little after that game and became good friends, he always updates me on his tournaments and games."

Oikawa's fatal flaw was that he had a massive god-complex, and right now it was definitely being complex. His mind was about to take a total downward turn when y/n punched his shoulder.

"Don't look like that, you idiot." Y/n sneered.

"What? Look like what?" He demanded.

"Don't get jealous. Don't get upset just because I know some great setter, I can't even begin to compare you two and you've never even met him. Don't get your tits in a twist so quickly, now come on it's dark, we're both tired, and it's obviously past your bedtime." Tōru's mind went blank, even if he could think up a response, there'd be now way he'd bring himself to say it. He hadn't been put in his place like that before, sure Iwa gave him reality checks every now and then, but nobody could read him like that.

Y/n started walking, but turned to face Tōru and held out his hand, waiting for him to take it. He didn't say anything, just waved his hand around and stared at Tōru until he finally took it. Y/n's hand was warm, and strong, just like a spiker's should be.

"Where's your house?" Y/n asked him, his face void of any snark or ego that it had only moments earlier.

"It's up by the school, two streets north." Y/n nodded and confidently lead him in the general direction. "How are you so calm all of a sudden?" He found himself asking, the events of their date confusing him.

Y/n chuckled as he looked to the sky. "After you ripped the bill out of my hands at that restaurant, I knew you weren't as serious or intimidating as I had thought you were when I first met you. Our conversations and getting to hit your sets after we ate was so much more relaxed, I just felt like I could be myself. I don't like formal situations like sit down dinners at fancy restaurants, I didn't even know what to wear, Iwa picked this out."

Hearing that Hajime had picked out what y/n was wearing made Tōru feel better, he thought he was a total disaster today but he hadn't been alone. "I thought this was going to be easy, but you just keep making me forget how to think." He lightly squeezed Tōru's hand at the comment,

"That's probably a good thing, isn't it? You probably think way to much." He sighed,

"You're definitely right. Guess I'm extremely lucky for having you physically run into me today."

Y/n smiled, "You're so welcome."

They approached Oikawa's neighborhood, and he directed y/n to his house, y/n only letting go of Oikawa's hand when they got to his front steps. "Thanks, for tonight. It was fun, I'm looking forward to next time." Y/n said, a slight blush dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

"Me too, even though I'll probably see you again tomorrow, right?" Y/n's face dropped, he'd totally forgotten they went to school together.

Thoroughly embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to laugh it off. "Eh, true- our classes are neighbors." He took a deep breath and faced Tōru, "Well, I'll see you later. Have a good night, Oikawa." He barely got a chance to reply before y/n had turned around to leave, so he grabbed the shoulder closest to him, and turned the boy to face him again.

"What, no goodbye kiss? We're basically dating now right?" Y/n turned nearly purple at the comment, definitely not having expected it. He tried stuttering out some kind of response, so Oikawa put him out of his misery and tugged the gent towards him.

He could feel y/n's anxiety melt away as they kissed, his arms wrapping around Tōru's waist, his in return folding around y/n's neck. Y/n couldn't believe what was happening, but he was beyond happy that it was.

[the-letterbox-archives]

archival file 350180-126[1] (tag game)

i am beginning to work through these oc questionnaires, so consider this part 1! thank you @fenmere and @ominous-feychild for the questions for round 1!

i will be using laszlo, ven, and dulcinea for the first 6 questions!

q1. “what is your favourite thing to do to avoid responsibility?”

laszlo

“As much as I love the extra responsibility, I sometimes find it best to engage whoever wants me to undertake extra work with an interesting conversation. It works especially well on Father. As much as he claims to hate politics, it gets him talking!”

ven

“Sleep. That’s… pretty much all I’ve ever done, and nobody bothered me with ‘responsibility’ then.”

dulcinea

“Leave. Well, can you blame me? Sometimes I need to reset. And the stars are really pretty, I can’t be away from them for too long, anyway.”

q2. “if you could choose anyone in your world to be your sibling, who would it be?”

laszlo

“Andrei! He’s my first and only friend, I would be honoured to be his brother.”

ven

“So far, the people I’ve met don’t really seem like ‘sibling’ material, to say the least.”

dulcinea

“What’s a sibling? Doesn’t matter, the only person I know is mum, so...”

q3. “what is the most sublime thing you have ever eaten, and why?”

laszlo

“Well, everything I eat is of the highest quality in Miyokav, but I quite like gryphon meat! Though, I don’t think I’ll ever be drinking wine again, heh…”

ven

“I don’t think I need to eat… Maybe I should check that…”

dulcinea

“We eat the same thing every day, but I like it. Non-perishable slop really has an acquired taste, but I’ve had eighteen years to develop that taste.”

q4. “what was the worst day of your life?”

laszlo

“You’d expect me to say the day I was almost assassinated, but no! No, there was another experience, as long ago as it was. In fact, the more I think about it, the less I remember… On second thought, can we skip this question? I’m a bit lightheaded…”

ven

“The day I woke up. That’s not to say it was a particularly bad day, it was just the first day I’ve ever felt anything other than nothing.”

dulcinea

“Every day feels the same to me, honestly. I can’t really keep track of time anymore. I remember tiny fragments of Earth, but not enough to be a real memory. I think my worst day would be leaving Earth.”

q5. “what’s your worst nightmare?”

laszlo

“Losing everything I’ve ever held dear because of the Promise. I fear the worst every year, but I can feel everyone’s hope fade further as the tithes increase.”

ven

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a nightmare… Oh, it’s metaphorical? Okay, uh, maybe not knowing who I am. Is that a worst nightmare if it’s already happening?”

dulcinea

“Losing mum. I know it has to happen someday, but I just… don’t wanna think about it.”

q6. “if a monster asked you your worst nightmare, what would you tell it and why?”

laszlo

“Foolish to assume my people don’t worship monsters already. If a god asked me my worst nightmare, I would lie. What lie, I’m not certain, but I would never let them know they hold any power over me.”

ven

“It couldn’t really use the information against me, and I don’t have the wit to lie…”

dulcinea

“I’d say something like ‘seeing you alive,’ then I’d punch it in the face. Bad lie, I know, but it’s the punchline that counts.”

np tagging @introchasingstars, @honeybewrites, @paeliae-occasionally, @the-golden-comet,

@noxxytocin, @moltenwrites, @tc-doherty, @the-ellia-west, @theverumproject,

@thecrazyalchemist, @laylathewordwitch, @dragonedged-if, @leitereads, @autism-purgatory,

@gioiaalbanoart, @drchenquill, @leahnardo-da-veggie, @melpomene-grey,

@yourpenpaldee, @corinneglass, @agirlandherquill, @willtheweaver, @nczaversnick,

@davycoquette, @glassfrogforest, @princeofhags, @wyked-ao3, @fantasy-things-and-such, + open tag!

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

Something I love about Tomura is how defiant he has always been. From day one, that was not a kid made to obey society norms, that was not a child the hero society could have tamed, that is not the type of personality that would have easily bent.

He was 5 years old and running from home 'cause he wanted to be a hero and he'd be a hero against his parents wishes, if necessary. He was asking his mother directly "why does my dad hate me?" and if it isn't why I love kids, when they cut straight to the bone, when they ask what adults wouldn't ask because they'd rather dance around it than admit the big problem. Tenko was 5 years old, the type of child would get rejected all the time but still he wouldn't give up on his desire to make friends, the type of kid that wouldn't cave in to the pressure of his peers. He had a rebellious sister, as rebellious as him, who would lie to her father saying that she wanted to be a housewife to make him happy and then go sneak on his office to find his secrets, the grandmother he never talks about, and she'd go fetch her little sibling to inspire him, to tell Tenko she was there with him, they could do it together, become heroes, escape that house, their dad.

And when things go to hell, when AFO finds him, when Tenko gets groomed and manipulated and lost his family, his memories, his identity and he's replaced by a version AFO created, Tomura does not give up control, not fully. A problem child, you would called it.

Tomura then decides to kill whoever hurts him. He is mentally unstable, doesn't know who he is even, he is dealing with enough trauma to nuke a town and that without counting that Tomura's primary caretakers are A) the greatest abuser and villain the bnha world has ever faced, B) a mad scientist that wants to turn Tomura into a zombie, C) the most functional zombie the mad scientist could create. He is isolated, brainwashed, tortured with the hands of his dead family all over his body to remind him of his pain and made him unable to escape his agony and mourning... The whole pack and yet Tomura rebelled.

A part of him, pieces of Tenko that keep leaking to his new identity, made Tomura different from the idea AFO had for him. Tomura rebelled against the heroes, against the system, against society itself, against the future and past and present of those beliefs. Tomura rebelled against other villains and refused to bow down to them. He criticized them openly and when he made his own group, Tomura acted totally different from the rest of villains. He was not just ordering around or ignoring them or faking affection to manipulate them. He never lied to them, told them more than what they wanted to hear at times, gave them free reign to act and trusted their judgement, never punished them for the decisions they took, Tomura respected them all, treated them like equals, listened to what they had to say, adapted to their desires, protected them and avenged them and fought for them and inspired them.

And when AFO possessed them, he fought AFO too. 15 years of abuse and emotional manipulation and grooming and brainwashing and none of that could stop Tenko's heart for its rebellious nature. When Mirio suggested he was sad 'cause he had no friends, Tomura corrected him passionately. He had friends. When the pro-heroes suggested he was naive, he tried to explain it again. To every person doubting his resolve and his purpose, he answered the same. Through the whole manga, he keeps fighting against people invalidating him, refusing to listen, refusing to accept, refussing to become what they want him to be.

That's the deepest parallel with Izuku, the kid who went against All Might himself when the hero told him he could not be like the rest. The concept of both Deku and Tomura determined to prove the people who doubt them wrong, the fact that they keep pushing against all odds, their resilience and determination and how they believe in themselves even if no one else, not even their parents, do it.

I really, really, reeeaaally wish Tenko would get his happy ending after all of these. To be so persistent you survive the worst anyone can suffer and come out on the other side still wanting to be a hero, it is something that I'll never get tired of watching.

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 24: Remembering

ao3 | wattpad

word count: 3.8k

Joel

I was still too slow.

I throw myself at the door. Again, and again, and again. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t get through, and the pain of the silence, promising that something has already been lost, rings out all around me until I want to scream just to hear anything other than nothing. So, I do. I scream, and scream and no one comes to help. And I’m here to help, but she’ll never know. She—

“Joel,” a voice in the distance breaks through the quiet. It isn’t enough to break down the door though.

“Joel,” a little louder this time. “Wake up.”

There’s a hand on my shoulder, shaking me, trying to take me away from the door. I won’t leave her. I’ll keep bashing against the wood until it breaks apart. It has to. I have to—

“Joel,” the hand on my shoulder shakes me, much harder this time. “Wake up!”

My eyes fly open with a start, and I’m catching my breath as quickly as I can. I grab at the wrist on my shoulder, ready to fight off whoever is trying to pull me away.

“Hey, hey,” the soft voice gets closer, and I feel another hand, this time on the side of my face. “You’re okay.”

I blink in the darkness, finding Gwen’s pained eyes staring back at me. I immediately let go of her wrist.

“I’m sorry,” I croak.

She just shakes her head, like she has no idea why I would say that. Her hand is still on the side of my face, pushing a few strands of hair away, her thumb gently stroking my cheek.

“You were having a nightmare,” her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. I attempt to sit up, but she shushes me, and her fingers tickle me as she tucks another strand behind my ear. So instead, I let my head fall back against the pillow on the couch. I scoot my hip over to give her some more room from where she’s perched on the side.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say after a few minutes.

“You didn’t.” I give her a suspicious look, and she rolls her eyes. “I mean it. I hadn’t fallen asleep yet.”

“What time is it?”

“Um…” she glances at the kitchen stove. “Almost three.”

“Almost three and you haven’t slept?” Concern washes over me, prickling my arms.

“I was wasting time on my phone.”

I want to argue with her, to let her know that her lie didn’t land…but her hand feels so good brushing across my face like that, and I worry an argument might make her stop. She tends to talk with her hands.

After another minute, she asks, in a voice falling on eggshells, “Who’s Sarah?”

My entire body runs cold, and the panic must be etched on my face, because she adds, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You were…calling out to her, is all. You called out to her back in my apartment, too.”

I take a few breaths, focusing on her hand that doesn’t falter, and her other one that has now cautiously wrapped around the top of mine, resting on my stomach. The softness of her skin was like a balm over my nerves that felt like they’d been replaced with live wires. Her eyes are patient, focusing on every reaction I have.

“She’s…” my voice is already twisted with emotion. “She was the daughter of a client.”

Gwen’s motions cease, but only for a fraction of a second. I realize that she’s waiting for me to continue.

“She passed away a long time ago. Under my watch.”

“What happened?” She whispers.

I shake my head lightly, closing my eyes. I don’t think I can look at her face when I tell her. To see it fall—to realize that I’m a failure. That I might have failed her, too. But she is bound to find out at least part of the story with the report she’ll be getting. It would be better to hear it from me.

“I haven’t done private security detail in years. I’ve chosen to be abroad because, working for families…seeing what can happen if you’re not careful…” my voice catches again, and Gwen’s quiet shushing encourages me to continue. “I was in charge of the father. He was a new senator, not very well-known. They were having a birthday party for their oldest daughter. Everyone on the guest list had a background check. It wasn’t even that big of a party, and the day was almost over. My job the entire day was to stand near the senator. That’s what my boss told me. Just stand near him, make sure no one threatening approached him, that sort of thing. Then, after the birthday cake was handed out, their youngest, Sarah, went missing. Apparently some of the kids were playing hide and seek. We didn’t know that at the time, though, so the party went into lockdown. The senator ordered me to look for his daughter, so I did. And I had the unfortunate job of finding her.”

I take a few more breaths, and Gwen doesn't say a word. She continues to lightly play with my hair, her other hand brushing over mine.

“Her bedroom door was locked. That was the first sign of trouble. I started to call to her to open the door, but there was no answer. Then I feared the worst, that there was someone else in there with her. I beat down the door and found her curled up on the floor…” The clamp around my throat tightens. “She was allergic to peanuts. Everything that day had been planned accordingly to avoid it, but somehow, she was exposed. They’re still not sure what happened. In fact, the family still believes there could have been foul play involved. Especially since her bedroom window was left open with no sign of Sarah trying to crawl out—” The image of her possibly trying to reach toward a window for help to no avail grips my gut. “She was—so small. And alone. They think she ate whatever caused the reaction once she was alone, and by the time she knew to call for help…”

Gwen gingerly swipes her thumb next to my eye. I hadn’t realized I was crying, but she wipes away the tears anyway.

“She died under my watch. They investigated, never found anything. Her father quit later that year. I transferred to foreign duty and never looked back. I knew them well…I didn’t want to know anyone’s family like that again. I couldn’t—fail like that again.”

I said it. The word that haunted me most days, and echoed into my nightmares. It was the first time I’ve ever said it out loud. Speaking it somehow gave me the strength to open my eyes, disregarding the fear of how Gwen would react.

What I see shocks me.

Gwen is looking at me with…reverence. Her eyes are brimming with tears that make the blue of them sparkle even in the dark. Looking at her makes me continue without another thought.

“I won’t fail you like that. I don’t want you to think that it’s a pattern—I want you to be able to trust me. I’ve never lost anyone else under—”

“Joel,” she breathes in disbelief. “I’m not thinking that. It…it makes me trust you more. Beyond that…” A few tears escape onto her cheeks. “Beyond that, I’m so sorry. You’ve been carrying that around, all this time, thinking you were at fault?”

“I am at fault.”

“It was an accident. A terrible, horrific accident that could happen to anyone.”

I shake my head. “Not necessarily. And they hired me to prevent that sort of thing. I didn’t. The least I can do is…remember it, so I don’t let anything like that happen again.”

Gwen purses her lips, looking down at our now joined hands. She doesn’t say anything for a few moments.

“When my mom died I barely slept for two weeks. I wanted to, but, that pain of… remembering every time I woke up?” Her voice is teetering between stable and strained, “It was too much to bear. I didn’t want to wake up and have those first ten seconds of peace before I remembered. It made me feel like I was going to forget her. It felt like I—” her voice breaks, and my hand squeezes her tighter, holding her to the present moment. “I felt like I failed her. If I forgot, even for a moment, I felt like I had failed.” She sniffles, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t know what it’s like to be in your position, but I know that feeling. And I also know, now, that it’s just that, a feeling. I feel like I failed her sometimes, but I didn’t. Just like you didn’t fail Sarah.”

I didn’t deserve it. Her words, her tears, the kindness she’s showing me and the gentleness of her touch. But if fate was going to offer me this beautiful woman’s grace and tenderness…Who was I to turn it away?

I sit up, thinking she’d drop her hand now, but she doesn’t. It still rests partially on my neck and partially on my cheek, now wet with tears. I grab our joined hands with my free one, looking at her thoughtful eyes.

“Thank you,” my voice is completely hoarse. “But I promise, I haven’t failed since. I don’t plan to fail you now.”

She shakes her head, her expression still pained. “You define failure so rigidly that you can’t see how much you’ve done. How successful you’ve been.”

I watch her, feeling confused as she wraps both of her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. I take a sharp inhale, my eyes closing again as she plays with the strands on my neck, coaxing me to relax.

“Successful?” I manage to ask in a whisper.

“Well…for one, I normally can’t stand to share a room with anyone. I barely sleep if there’s someone else in here with me. Now…” she hesitates, and I open my eyes again. She struggles, not to find the words, but to release them. “I find it difficult to sleep if you’re not here.”

Before I can think, I place my hands on her bare thighs, noticing her inhale as I drag her closer, so she’s sitting astride me. I draw a few circles on them before joining my hands behind her back, caging her close to me.

“And then I go and complicate things by talking in my sleep.” I say it as a joke, but she shakes her head again.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m…glad I was here.”

The crack in her voice pulls me forward without intention, and I press a light kiss to her forehead. She hums, one of her hands slipping into the back of my shirt.

“I’m glad you’re here, too.”

With that, she fully wraps her legs around me, pulling us chest to chest, and rests her head on my shoulder.

I’ve always had that protective instinct. It didn’t always matter who it was for. I just knew that I was put on the planet to protect, and to fight when necessary. But now, holding Gwen like this…there isn’t a single thing that could make me leave this spot. Not even if the world depended on it. Not if it meant giving up the sound of her heart regulating, growing more rhythmic against mine. Giving up the smell of her hair, and the feeling of her hands as they move up and start to play with the collar of my t-shirt. If it meant being with her, protecting her, I was invincible.

After a while, I run my hand up her spine, feeling my protectiveness turn to possession as she shivers a little under my touch.

“You must be tired,” I murmur.

She quickly shakes her head against my shoulder, mumbling something to indicate otherwise.

“You should go to bed.”

Almost imperceptibly, she tightens her legs around me. “I’m fine.”

I move my hands back to her thighs, and she sighs on my neck. “You’re always so stubborn.”

She rubs my neck with the tip of her nose, and embarrassingly, I shiver a little too. “Likewise.”

I find myself gripping her thighs tighter. “We should both go to bed.”

Ever so slightly, Gwen places a featherlight kiss to my neck. I groan instantly, trying to cover it up with a cough. She hears it though, because she hums proudly to herself, no doubt feeling the effect she has on me.

“It doesn’t seem like you want to go to bed,” her voice has dropped to an alluring pitch.

“What I want is to stop putting you in positions like this…”

“Hmm. What position would you like me in then?” Her finger trails down the other side of my neck.

Jesus Christ.

I let out a true groan now, my eyes drifting to the ceiling. “You know what I mean. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

Now Gwen pulls back, locking her hooded eyes on mine. “When have you ever known me to do something I didn’t want to do?”

“Never.” All I can do is stare at her lips.

“So…” She leans forward, pressing a kiss to my chest through my t-shirt. “What makes you think I have to do this?” Her fingers skim under the hem, and she sighs again as she trails up the bare skin of my chest. “I’m the one who promised not to touch you again without your permission. If you want me to stop…” she pulls up my shirt, dipping down to leave an open-mouthed kiss on my torso, causing all the muscles underneath to clench. “Tell me to stop.”

Instinctively, I pull her forward by her thighs, providing friction for the both of us. She gasps, and her face changes into that same frustrated and aroused expression. It’s enough of a sign for her to lift my shirt up even more, and I can’t resist helping her remove it entirely.

“Mmm,” Gwen presses her lips together, eyes glazing over as she runs her hands up and down my chest. I lean back against the couch, happy to let her explore for as long as she likes. My hands are still kneading her thighs as she kisses every square inch she can see. Her soft lips are like caffeine, speeding up my heart with every touch. My chest is rising and falling at a shallow, rapid pace, and it nearly stops when her fingers graze under the band of my pants.

She leisurely strokes her hand back and forth, teasing me. She smirks, raising her head up so that our mouths are inches apart.

“I’m guessing I’m still not allowed to kiss you,” she whispers, her breath heating the tip of my lips.

I shake my head. “I want to…but I wouldn’t be able to recover. I would need more.”

“More?” she arches a brow, her delicate hand brushing over my aching cock through my pants.

I grunt. Loudly.

It was pathetic, really, how one touch could electrocute my senses. But I’m past the point of caring.

“More of this?” she asks innocently, stroking me again. Devil, devil woman.

Through the haze, I grab her chin with my hand, forcing her to look at me. “Yes,” I hiss. “But more than just that. I would need you to be mine. Only mine.” Her eyes widen, and her breath hitches as she takes in my meaning. I take the opportunity to jut her hips forward again, causing her to whimper.

“I don’t do casual, Gwen. When you kiss me, you need to know that.” Her eyes sparkle with fondness at the mention of her name, and her cheeks flush deeply with realization.

Keeping her eyes on mine, she leans forward and presses another kiss in the center of my chest. “Well…if I can’t kiss you there,” she gently pulls on my lip with her thumb. “I guess I’ll have to make do.” She starts to kiss my lower abdomen, and my head falls back again.

I know it’s wrong. So wrong. I’m never supposed to be emotionally involved with a client, and here I am thinking the sky itself might collapse if she doesn’t touch me where I need her most. Those pretty fingers dip back into my waistband, and I suck in a breath. It feels like she’s been teasing me for hours when she slides off of my lap and onto the floor in front of the couch.

“Gwen,” my voice is a husky command, “No.”

She shimmies my pants down an inch or two. “You want me to stop?” She waits, her blue eyes full of both wanting and concern.

“This should be about you.” I answer, not knowing if her lips on me will do more damage than kissing ever could.

“It is,” she smirks, “I like seeing you squirm.”

I help her remove my pants, tossing them to the side. I nearly lose all my ability to speak when she reaches for one of the pillows and tucks it under her knees. “I’m not squirming.” I manage to huff.

Gwen glides a hand over the front of my boxers, and I—

“Fuck,” my head falls back again.

And then she giggles, and I know I’m done for. I’m as hard as rock before she even takes me out of my boxers. I notice her freeze as she does so, and I peek down at her. Her eyes have grown wide, if only for a moment. I feel a small wave of arrogance, being bigger than she must have expected.

“You don’t,” I take another deep breath, eyes on her perfectly manicured hand just an inch away from me, “You don’t have to.”

“Like I said,” she leans forward on her knees, grabbing my base tight enough that my mouth hangs open, “When have I ever done something I didn’t want to do?”

And then her tongue is on me, and my vision goes white.

It takes both of her hands to wrap around me as her tongue works vicious circles on the head, and I’m already fisting the sheet next to me, willing myself to keep it together just a little bit longer.

Then, she takes me in deeper, and I can’t downplay what I’m feeling anymore.

“Fuck, Gwen,” I groan, way louder than I should. “Oh, that feels good, sweetheart.” This makes her hum in approval around my cock, only making me throb harder. I thread my hand through her hair, careful not to push her any further than she can go.

I want to close my eyes, to focus solely on the sensation. But I can’t bear to tear away from how incredible she looks in front of me. Never, never in my wildest dreams did I think that Gwen would ever do this for me. That I would ever have the honor of seeing her like this, or that it would feel this fucking good. And I can’t stop telling her.

“God, you take me so well.”

Her eyes smile back at me when her mouth can’t. She takes me even deeper, and I grunt, my jaw clenching to hold on just a little longer. I can’t help my head lolling back against the couch again. She let’s go of me with a pop, before licking all the way from base to the tip. Then she freezes, and I’m compelled to look at her again.

“Eyes on me,” her voice is full of honey and venom, repeating my words back to me.

“Yes, ma’am.” I heave out a laugh before it turns into a borderline whimper as she keeps eye contact with me and fits nearly all of me down her perfect throat.

“So pretty,” I grasp the back of her head again, the softness of her hair filling my already overflowing senses. “That’s it…oh, baby I’m close.”

And like the devilish blessing she is, she winks at me. I’m practically panting at this point. “Please, Gwen, I’m gonna, I need to—”

She takes me out only momentarily to breathe, “Let me taste it.”

Fuck. Me.

She goes in on me with a fever, and I wouldn’t be able to hold back if I had all the will in the world. I let go with one last groan, and Gwen doesn’t stop working her mouth on me until I physically push her arm away, unable to take the sensation any longer. She grins, licking the corner of her mouth.

“You’re…” I’m still trying desperately to recover my breath. “Incredible.” I run my hands up and down her arms, trying to soothe myself more than anything.

“That oughta teach you not to tease me.” She leans forward to press another kiss to my stomach, and I shudder still under her lips.

“Teach me to do it more often, more like. C’mere.” I pull her back on top of me, curious to see just how much this has worked her up.

She obliges, climbing back on top but shaking her head. “We should sleep now.”

My face falls. “What?”

She giggles again, and I pull her tighter to me. “I was just repaying you for last night.”

I shake my head rapidly. “No way. It doesn't work like that.” I slide my hands around to her backside, squeezing and pulling her hips harder against me. She sighs, her eyes fluttering for a moment. I lean into her ear to drive my point home. “I want to see you come again.”

Gwen steadies her breathing for a second before replying. “Maybe another time,” she whispers in my ear before getting up. I’m in disbelief still, even as she keeps holding my hand, dragging me up and over to her bed with her. “For now though, you could do me and your back a favor and sleep over here.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “My back?”

“The couch can’t be good for it. Especially at your age…” She plops down on the bed, her eyes taking in the new angle of my naked body. I wonder if it’s possible to already get hard again.

“My age?”

“Mhm.”

“Is my age a problem?” I get in on the other side of the bed, crawling so that I’m hovering over her.

“Not at all,” her eyes are far too innocent, “I thought you knew I liked antiques.”

I laugh, lightly tickling her stomach through her shirt, making her laugh along with me. “Disrespectful, Miss Russell.”

“I said I liked them,” she’s still laughing, and I hope she never stops. “That’s not disrespectful.”

I simply huff as I settle in next to her, pulling the covers over her bare legs. She quickly wraps her cold leg around mine, shifting on her side to look at me. I push a strand of hair away from her face, and she closes her eyes. I’ve never considered myself a particularly lucky man. If anything, it was the opposite. But as her breathing becomes more relaxed and involuntary, and I get to lay this close to her, still twirling a strand of her hair in between my fingers…luck isn’t a strong enough word.

Next Chapter

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Masterlist

[steviesbicrisis]

It starts out as any other Sunday morning. Eddie takes his time to come out of his room and finds his uncle already in the kitchen, the usual cup of coffee in his hand.

“‘Morning son” Wayne greets him, looking up from the newspaper.

“‘Morning” mumbles Eddie, still half asleep.

Per usual, Wayne tells him about stuff that happened to him during the week, since he works night shifts and they don’t get much time to talk except on Sundays.

“Oh, you won’t believe what I witnessed on Thursday night” Wayne begins, catching Eddie’s interest “we were grabbing something for dinner when I caught this piece of shit launching himself on another man! A disgusting scene to witness, I was so mad. Just like that, out in the open, in that alley next to the diner, you know that one?”

Everything Wayne says after that, Eddie barely registers.

The sound of his voice is muffled, Eddie can feel his jaw clenching, his knees weak, his vision blur. He keeps himself busy making his breakfast, trying not to show his inner turmoil, but something betrays him. He doesn’t know if it’s him putting salt in his coffee or pouring water on his cereals instead of milk.

“Son, are you okay?” Wayne sounds concerned.

Eddie snaps out of his trance, he really tries to act normal but he can’t, he’s so tired of hiding in his own home.

He knows that diner alley too well, he has been there one too many times, risking getting caught doing exactly what Wayne got disgusted about.

“I’m fine” Eddie forces himself to say but, for better or for worse, his uncle knows him way too well.

“What’s going on? Is it something I said?” Wayne gets up from his chair and moves a step closer to him, Eddie flinches.

They've never experienced a situation like this, whenever one of them has a problem with the other, they just say it out loud, bicker for a while, and then go on with their life. Eddie has never had troubles telling his uncle anything, until now.

"What I've said about those men, upset you?" Wayne tries again, and Eddie cannot keep looking at his uncle and lie.

"You said it was a disgusting scene to witness. You're saying that people like me are a disgusting scene to witness."

They look at each other in silence for probably a few seconds but it feels like a lifetime from Eddie's perspective.

Then Wayne rushes to his side and envelopes him in a tight embrace.

"Son, that isn't what I meant- I don't care what you are, what I said about that man has nothing to do with you" Wayne has trouble expressing whatever is going inside his head.

Eddie has never told this to anyone before. He tries to interpret his words the best he can "but I am like that man, you can't just hate every queer that ever existed but me just because I'm your nephew."

Wayne grips his shoulders as if he was afraid Eddie would run away any second. Eddie realizes he is probably right: his gaze was scanning the room behind Wayne, searching for a way out, without fully realizing it.

He feels extremely stupid for coming out like this, without a backup plan, right after Wayne had shown him just how much he cannot stand gay people. He knows Wayne loves him like a son, but being fucked up like Eddie has to be too much even for him.

Wayne takes a deep breath, finally recollecting his thoughts. He moves his hands on Eddie's cheeks "Eddie, I want you to look at me. Look at me in the eyes, son."

Eddie focuses his gaze on his uncle's face. His hands are shaking, his posture stiff. He decides in that moment that whatever happens he will take the hit, fight back and run away.

"I love you Eddie, you are my son. I don't give a shit about who you wanna sleep with as long as you're cautious and you're safe. I don't have prejudice for anything, people can love whoever they wanna love, I don't fucking care. Are we understood?"

Eddie releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He really focuses on Wayne's expression, looking for any indication of him lying but he finds none. He seems concerned, determined and also sad at the same time.

"This changes nothing, I love you just the same."

It could have been because his uncle never told him he loved him so openly until now, because he was scared shitless and an adrenaline rush was running through his body, or because as soon as he figured out he was gay he had always feared the moment Wayne would find out.

It could have been all of those things at the same time that make his eyes watery. He looks away and rubs his arm on his eyes, Wayne lets him without a fuss. He knows Eddie won't run away now.

"But what about those men you were telling me about?" he asks, once he feels calm enough.

"The piece of shit was harassing the other man, it was clear from a mile away, I was pissed he thought he could do it out in the open and that no one would've stopped him" Wayne grumbles.

"Most people wouldn't have stopped him" Eddie says, still stunned.

"Well not your old man... wait, has that ever happened to you?" he questions, Eddie goes red in the face.

"Of course not! I can defend myself!" Eddie sputters, making his uncle chuckle.

Another silence spreads between them, but a much comfortable one.

"Listen, this ain't gonna be a piece of cake. I don't care, I told you, but there's people out there who do. So, when you're out, be careful but when you're here... this is your home Eddie, you have to feel free in here."

Eddie mentally curses him for turning what he thought was a dangerous situation into a sentimental one in a span of ten minutes, making him go to the verge of tears once again.

"Are we understood?" Wayne asks once again.

"We are" Eddie nods, and that's the end of it.

When the time comes and Eddie brings someone home, a boyfriend, to spend the night there and live comfortably around each other without any fear, Wayne knows he has done his job right.

----

So... I came out to my parents today. It wasn't planned, I was scared, but it went the best way I could've imagined. They're both an uncle Wayne, if that makes any sense ahahha But yeah, this inspired me to write Eddie's coming out. Wayne really doesn't care about queer people, he just wants Eddie to be okay, as any parent should.

[splinter-sister]

Prev

The front of the house looked wrong.

The flower beds that once used to be overflowing with shrubs and little statues had been replaced with a bed of stones and rose bushes along the front of the house. The porch looked the same, the color of the trim didn't. It was white now. The porch swing was still there with a new cushion to protect whoever sat on it.

The face of the house felt fake. Like it has cosmetics on it to blend all it's unique features. There sat something tangled and wiggling in her gut. A foresight fear for what was going to happen.

But she had to know. She had to know for several years and was too afraid and ashamed of herself to come home. Maybe her mom redid the house after her dad died. They were so close. They made this house unique through their conjoined efforts.

She wanted to keep running down into her rabbit holes, but not this time. No more burrowing. There's still some of Butch's liquid courage in her, she knew it!

She rings the doorbell and waits.

A dog barks from inside and her heart sinks. A shadow comes up to the windows and pulls the fabric blind to the side to see who it is. It falls back into place and the door is unlocked. Rachael can count at least three different locks on the door, all sounding different.

The door is opened by someone who is definitely not her mother. She was pretty, in an airy blouse and capris, and telling the dog to shut it. This intruder looks Rachael over first.

"Can I help you?" She asks wondering who this stranger is coming up to her doorstep. She must think Rachael was trying to sell something. Rachael forces herself to begin the first steps of a conversation.

"Ah. Sorry. I'm-I used to live in th' area and..." She feels a choke coming on. She was right. She was right. She was right.

"Does.... Rita Donahue still live here. O-or in the neighborhood?"

"Oooh honey, I'm sorry, but you just missed her by a few months or so. She sold to us and moved away." The woman says with a hint of offense at being disturbed.

"She did, huh?" Rachael's eyes wander to the inside of the living room. The walls used to be an earthy terracotta red. Now, they're beige. No more paintings and photographs. The carpet she used to sit on to watch Saturday morning cartoons was gone, replaced with hard wood floors. Bare. Pecked clean. Defiled to her of all the comforts she knew.

Rachael has to remind herself that it's not this woman's fault. She doesn't know and now, doesn't have to.

"Thhhat's a shame! She used to babysit me when I was little. I heard her husband passed and I wanted to give her my condolences." Don't drop face. Act normal. Lie.

The hardest part was trying to keep herself from shaking.

"Love what ya have done with th' place, though! Very modern." A lie that will taint her tongue and throat for years to come. Like taking poison damage in an RPG.

"She was lovely." And her breaking point was coming. She can't keep up a full conversation and keep herself together. Time to go.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed yew! En-enjoy yer mornin'..." Rachael doesn't wait around for a returned good bye. She spins on her heel, takes one huge step off the front porch and keeps walking down the street even if the new tenant was calling after her. What she said didn't reach her. She's gone.

This was a mistake. She shouldn't have come. It was like looking at a dead relative during a wake and they don't look like they used to. Too far altered. Too far delayed rest. The last scene of them you'll ever see and remember and you wish you had kept their memory as they used to be.

'It's too late.' But wasn't that always her reasoning? She believed and fed herself that as an excuse for her cowardice. That time was against her when really, it gave her more chances than she deserved.

She wasn't protecting anyone by hiding. She was ashamed and ran from her mistakes. It was selfish. She changed her whole life and now she can't go back. It's all gone at last and she'll never have it again. Now that the last, tiny tile of hope was taken from her mosaic, it's just an empty wall. No more dancing colors and patterns. It's just the beige as they painted the living room.

Despair is let out of it's cage once she reaches the tree line on her way to the bus stop. It was a long ride to get here and it'll be an even longer one back.

Hopefully, the bus will be empty this time of day.

[kissorkill16]

On His Big Chest: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Nicky wakes up from a nightmare and it's too early in the morning. Luckily, he's not the only one up.

P.S., for any of those Neighbor x Player shippers, this is NOT a ship! This is platonic!

Nicky jolted upwards, his heart beating fast and his breath nearly getting caught in his throat. He was having a sleepover with Aaron and Mya, and he had currently woken up from a nightmare.

He was four years old again, and he was in a shopping cart, in the middle of the grocery store. No one was around to help him, no one to call, and he was so scared.

"Ugh, I hate that dream. Makes me want to steer clear of every grocery store in the world.", Nicky grumbled. He looked at the clock sitting on the desk next to the bunk bed he was sharing with Aaron, and it read 2:54.

2:54.

Fucking 2:54 in the morning!

Nicky was so close to screaming in anger and punching himself in the face. This always happens! He has a nightmare, and ends up waking up at ungodly hours. Either that, or he wakes up somewhere else after a long night of sleepwalking, which was even more frustrating.

He thought maybe some water would help him get back to sleep, so he hopped out of bed, and tried to make as little noise as possible, as to not wake anyone. His attempts to stay quiet were futile as he kept tip-toeing on the stupid creaking floorboards, they were loud enough to wake up a few rats nearby. Finally, he made it to the kitchen, and he went on to fill up a glass of water and hope it puts him back to sleep.

But before he could even take a sip, he heard the creaking floorboards make so much noise as a possibly large body stepped on them. He stilled his body, clutching the glass of water in his hands, feeling extremely afraid. He turned towards the sink, trying to shrink down as small as possible, hoping whoever or whatever else was up at this time at night didn't come downstairs.

He sighed in relief when he didn't hear the floorboards creak anymore, but he seemed to have forgotten he was holding a cup, because he heard a voice close behind him, and the chill that ran down his spine nearly made him drop it.

"Nicholas?"

It was Mr. Peterson, Aaron and Mya's father. Nicky didn't really interact with the man much, mostly because he seemed weird and antisocial, so he respected that by keeping his distance. But now, these two were the only ones up at this ungodly hour.

"Nicholas, what are you doing up so early?"

"Me? I could say the same about you.", Nicky didn't mean to be rude, but he was trying to not make it obvious he was scared. "I woke up after a nightmare, and I thought maybe some water would help."

"Nightmare? What was it about?"

"Don't laugh, but it was about me getting lost in the grocery store when I was four years old."

Mr. Peterson put a hand on the young man's shoulder, and looked him in the eye. "Nicky, I would never laugh at you for having a nightmare. I too have had some trouble sleeping, and I've just been looking for a way to burn out some energy."

"Well, sir, if you want any of my advice, I always try to pick my lock collection whenever I can't sleep. Sadly, I left my locks at home. So..."

Mr. Peterson sighed, then guided Nicky to the living room. "Well, I don't have any locks available at the moment, but I have a way of getting my children to sleep after a nightmare.", he said as he sat down on the couch.

"Like what?"

"I used to let Aaron and Mya lay down on my chest."

Nicky was surprised when he heard that. He didn't take Mr. Peterson for a cuddly person, and he certainly didn't think he'd ever let a kid that isn't his lie on his chest.

But Nicky was desperate for a good night's sleep, and he was practically begging for something to knock him out. "Well,...look. I know I'm not your kid, but could we actually try doing that?", Nicky asked shyly.

Oddly enough, Mr. Peterson actually agreed. He helped the young boy onto his lap, and began scratching his head comfortingly.

Nicky wasn't going to lie, this was very relaxing. He loved the feeling of Mr. Peterson's soft argyle sweater against his cheek, and the sound of his heartbeat was even better. It sounded like a kettle drum, keeping a steady rhythm.

Mr. Peterson wasn't going to lie either, he loved every second of this. He missed doing this with Aaron and Mya, but now that the two were getting older, they became a little too mature for stuff like this.

And soon enough, the two boys were sound asleep.

[random-imagines-blog]

You Will See Me {Mycroft Holmes x Female!Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 4277 Summary: The last time you saw Mycroft, you had your heart broken. What happens when you’re confronted by him again? Notes: Not a happy ending.

It had been a long time since you had seen Holmes come up on your cellphone. Years, actually. You couldn’t remember the last time that one of those boys had any reason to call you. Mycroft, that bloody bastard, was off being the Queen’s hand or something like that, running the government from the inside. And then there was Sherlock, who was always in the papers for something or other, solving a case. You had nothing to do with either of their worlds anymore. And they had nothing to do with yours since the incident. There’s always a goddamn incident, isn’t there?

And yet, for some reason, you had kept both of their numbers in your phone. You haven’t texted, you haven’t called, you’ve skipped past them in your contacts multiple times without giving them thought. You were sure that Sherlock could tell you the reason why, though you couldn’t. He knew everything, especially about you. That’s what best friends did. They knew each other, they took care of one another. Although brother trumps best friend, and a brother is always on a brother’s side.

You thought about not answering Sherlock’s call. It was obviously a mistake of some sort. And if it wasn’t - bad  news, surely. Something like a funeral invitation. No, no, Sherlock would have just sent something like that in the post. He wasn’t the personal sort. Knowing that it was going to bother you until you found out that it was a butt-dial, you answered it, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. “Hello?”

“Ahh, good, so you’re not that busy then,” Sherlock said, curt as ever. No hello, no greeting, just straight to what he is deducing from you. You hated when he did that. And you hated when he was correct because it was your one day off from work this week, and you were intending to spend it doing the ever-blissful nothing at all. The most action that you had taken today was getting out of bed and moving to your sofa, turning on the telly and making yourself a nice cup of tea. “Can you join me this evening?”

“I just want to make sure that you have the right number,” You said, leaning back against your cushions. “This is y/n, not John, or whoever it is that you are ordering around at this moment. Would that be all of Scotland Yard now?”

“Yes, I’d say it’s about all,” Sherlock said, and you could imagine his face getting a little smug at the admission. He did enjoy showing off how superior his intellect was, and using it as some sort of power trip. You put up with it in the past, but you haven’t had to in quite some time. It was more annoying and irksome than you remembered. “But I did call the right person, I don’t make amateur mistakes like that. You didn’t answer my question. Can you join me this evening?” And just as you were attempting to think up some sort of excuse, he added on, “Don’t come up with a lie. You know I’ll know if you do.”

“Fine,” You groaned in a very non-adult way. If you were going to be dragged into whatever it is, you had every right to act petulant. “Yes. I can join you this evening - depending on what we are doing. I’m not a detective, and I really don’t want to see any dead bodies -”

“I know you’re not. You used to get sick at the thought of maggots, you’d never be able to handle seeing them on a corpse,” He said, so matter-of-factly.  “No bodies. Unless you are objecting to the animal kind. I was thinking dinner. Bring a guest, if you like. If you have one.”

The thought of Sherlock with a fishing pole came into your mind, wearing wellies because oh the man was fishing. You weren’t in any sort of mood to tell him that you had no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner of any kind. You debated on bringing a friend. Surely, Sherlock was going to be bringing John Watson with him. None of your friends would get along with Sherlock - it would be like mixing oil and vinegar together and expecting them to fuse.

“Dinner at your expense I hope?” You questioned.

“Yes,” He said, sounding annoyed for the first time in the conversation. That made you grin. That lightened up your mood a little. That irritation that you could drag out of him without getting insulted the way that everyone else did.

“Then absolutely. I’ll see you at dinner.”

--

As you attempted to pick out a dress from your closet - Sherlock had given you the address of a rather upscale place, a fancy steakhouse that was way above your budget on an ordinary day - you thought back to the last time that you had seen the Holmes boys. Years ago. Almost two decades. You were wearing a dress that was much like the one that you were picking out now - so you quickly returned it. The color red was gorgeous  but it held so many negative emotions now. And then you decided - sod it. You weren’t going to let the color be ruined just because Mycroft had hurt you when you had worn it once. None of what had happened was Sherlock’s fault, and now that he had reached out, you weren’t going to take it out on him anymore.

You stepped into the dress, then pulled it up around your figure. It fit perfectly. It highlighted what you wanted to highlight and it hid what you wanted it to hide. As you looked in the mirror, you really came to grips with the fact that you weren’t the same young, naive woman that you had been when you last were around the Holmes. Your hair might be the same color that it was then, your eyes were still the same shade, but you had a few gray hairs now, a few small wrinkles. You were a professional with a career, not a student at college. The outer differences were slight but everything inside was completely was different. You had confidence. You had experience. You had -

The trauma of being in love with Mycroft Holmes.

Nope, nope, you weren’t going to go there. You were going to smooth the dress over yourself and put on small touches of make up so that you looked like a million bucks when you walked into that restaurant. Like you belonged there. Like you were completely happy to see an old friend and there was nothing at all mortifying about this. A touch of lipstick, swipes of mascara, putting earrings on, all while trying to keep your cool, all while trying not to think about the past but about what this could mean for the future.

Shoes, check. Purse, check. A black-cab waiting outside of your flat to zoom you through the London streets towards the restaurant, check. Time to go.

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t get Mycroft out of your head now. Sherlock had just brought it all coming back. All of the memories, all of the feelings that you had been burying for so long. Hurt always bubbles up to the surface. That’s what it does. Once a wound is reopened, the scar tissues takes even longer to make it heal. Even the passing streetlights coming on as dusk started to make the sky darker, turning it into a shade of indigo. How many evenings like this had you spent wasting your youth on a man that had been stringing you along? On one that didn’t love you?  Too many. Way too many.

You grew up with the Holmes brothers. You were the same age as Sherlock, and Mycroft was the cool, smooth older brother. You grew up across the street from them, and unlike a lot of the other children in the neighborhood, you weren’t scared off by their intellect and naturally cold demeanor. You knew from the start that there was a warmth underneath there, you just had to stick around for the ice to melt. You might not have been as smart as them, and sometimes it was difficult to catch up to a lot of what they said but you showed an eagerness to learn. They appreciated that. They started to enjoy teaching you, not just calling you an idiot for it like they did the other kids.

Instead of hopscotch and football, it was crossword puzzles and University Challenge. It was a lot of reading outside with Mycroft while waiting for Sherlock to finish his violin lessons. That’s what you always liked about Mycroft. He didn’t have to sit out here and hang out with you. Most people didn’t do that with their kid brother’s friends. But he seemed genuinely interested in what you were reading, asking questions, telling you more information than what was in the book, always amazing you with how much stayed inside of his head. Even when high school was finished with, and you moved on to a college while Mycroft went to Cambridge, he stayed in touch with you. A little too in touch.

You met up for dinner one night. You had expected him to bring his surly brother along but no, it was just the two of you, at a rather nice Italian restaurant that you had always said you wanted to go to but could never afford. The kind with real breadsticks on the table, not ones out of a box. Where the waiters had uniforms and not just a dirty t-shirt with a washed out logo on it. He treated you to dinner, and a cheeky glass of wine, and listened to - or seemed to - you talk about your annoying dormmate and the lame parties that you had been invited to go to. He eventually got around to asking you if there was anyone interesting that you were seeing on campus. You found it hard to believe that he asked something so personal. He never asked about other friends, let alone boyfriends. The question made you nearly choke on your wine. He was there with a napkin which you gladly used to blot at your mouth.

“Oh um - well, there is one bloke I’ve been talking to a little bit, his name is Kevin, he’s really nice actually. He’s studying-”

“Oh, Kevin,” Mycroft said, the snobby voice starting to take effect. Oh yes, he had that since you two were children as well. There was no getting rid of it, as annoying as it sometimes could be. “Pedestrian name. Has he ever taken you to a place like this?”

You looked around, and had to admit that no. Kevin really hadn’t taken you to a place like this. “He hasn’t taken me to a restaurant, actually,” You admitted. “We went to a party, the one that I was just telling you about. But then he went to his friends and I went to mine...”

“Doesn’t sound much like a gentleman,” Mycroft mused. “If I were to go to a party with you, though I do find the idea of a party to be degrading and below the both of us, I wouldn’t leave your side. Especially not to go and talk to the sort of people that I’m sure that he considers friends.”

You continued sipping on your wine despite the fact that you were feeling rather confused. "Are you telling me that you want me to bring you to one of the college parties? I can’t even picture it,” You laughed. “But you do have a point. His friends are definitely chavs. I try not to speak to them really but-”

“No, I’m most certainly not asking to go to one of those depraved get-togethers,” He scoffed. “What I am trying to say is that you deserve someone who is not going to walk off once there are other options of people to talk to. Why, I’ve always found conversation with you to be quite stimulating. The person that you deem as your equal, as someone worthy of being in a flirtation with, let alone a relationship, should be seeking you out at a party. That is what I’m saying.”

Was it hot in the restaurant or was it just you? “A compliment from Mycroft Holmes. I can hardly believe it,” You chuckled over your wine, holding it in front of your face. “And one involving a party no less. Well thank you, Mycroft. I appreciate it. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Will you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “I do hope so. We’ve known each other all of these years and still keep in touch. You must know how rare that is for me. I do believe the word is ... captivated.”

That’s all it took. That’s all that it took for you to stop seeing Mycroft as just Sherlock’s brother, and as someone beguiling. The strawberry blonde hair that curled just above one eye, just short enough not to be annoying but also just long enough to get him a step away from the squeaky clean boy image that he had. You spent night after night with him, doing things that you wouldn’t regularly do. Sneaking onto the Cambridge campus for film nights, and then holding onto his arm as he walked you back to the bus stop, laughing about the historical inaccuracies. Walking past protests that were happening against Thatcher and talking about it. You sneakily pinned a ‘Down with Thatcher’ pin onto his jacket. Despite the fact that he would have realized quite early on that it was there, it wasn’t taken off until he switched jackets for the season.

Then there was that night. That dark and fateful night, as a gothic novelist might put it. Where you put your favorite red dress on, with matching rouge upon your cheeks and lipstick upon your mouth, your best pair of heels and stars in your eyes. Stars and hearts both. This was going to be the night when you were going to tell Mycroft Holmes that you had fallen in love with him. This is the night where you were going to go back to the restaurant where he first paid you those compliments that you did keep in your mind, right at the front of it, repeating those words to yourself again and again whenever you had some alone time. Touching yourself to them. Quite stimulating indeed. You were going to confess your love and he would do the same and  you would kiss, shamelessly. You would share a tiramisu dessert, noting that he quite enjoyed sweets.

That’s where the good ended. Right when you walked into the restaurant. Up until then, everything had been sublime. You even had been complimented by a couple of people on the subway. And not just leering perverted comments either. You looked lovely, you looked great, where did you get that dress, someone is going to have a good night. You were feeling it. And you had been trying to chase that confidence ever since.

“Ma’am?” The cab driver asked, bringing you out of your reverie. “We’re here.”

“Thank you,” You said, gathering yourself. You paid him with a hefty tip and then got out, and stood in front of the steakhouse. It was just Sherlock, surely. And John. And a chance to have a good meal on someone else’s dime, never anything wrong with that.

Shoulders back and stand up tall. There were workers right there at the doors who opened them with a greeting and a friendly smile which you returned. You gave your name to the host and he immediately brought you towards a table in the back. You smiled to yourself when you saw Sherlock’s messy head of curls. Some things would never change. The more that people tried to tell him to cut it, the longer he let it grew, until it annoyed only himself. The little rebel. And John, of course, whose blog you’ve perused once or twice - shorter than you imagined but pleasant nonetheless.

What did Sherlock need? He got straight to the point, or rather he did in his own sort of way. There was a lot of information being thrown at you but you remembered enough from your friendship days to sort through it and find what was important. An art piece had been stolen. He didn’t care much about art. But since you had gone to the college of the arts ... he needed your help. He wouldn’t say so upfront, but the way that he spoke made you feel like you were obligated to help him.

“It could be a homophobic attack,” You said, stroking your chin. “The artist was known to have some close male friends. Or it could have something to do with the Nazis. Everything always comes down to them but art theft - they hid so many masterpieces from the world, and some had yet to be discovered. This piece that was stolen is one of the recovered pieces. It could be some deranged supremacist trying to regain the lost collection.”

“Ahh, speaking of supremacist,” Sherlock said, his eyes now gazing above your head. A shadow had come over you, darkening your plate, your glass. You knew who it was by the silhouette.

“Apologies for being late - I didn’t wish to come,” Mycroft’s voice rang, as snobby as ever. It was such a him answer to give. You wish that you had thought of it. You were finding yourself wishing that you hadn’t come either, despite enjoying yourself a few moments prior, remembering why you and Sherlock had been friends in the first place. He walked around without greeting you, or even seeming to notice you - up until he sat across from you at the table. Whoever he might have been expecting to be sitting there, it wasn’t you, and for the first time, you saw surprise gleam across his eyes. And then - was that guilt? You could only hope so.

You were pleased to see that he had aged. That helped you a small bit. In your mind, he stayed in his early twenties, but here he was now, his hair thinning, hairline receding, wrinkles and all. It would have been better if he wasn’t still handsome despite this, but beggers can’t be choosers.

“Miss y/l/n,” Mycroft said, his voice raising as if he were asking a question more than a greeting. You decided not to respond, turning your head towards Sherlock, and bade him to continue, which he did without delay. Get him talking about a case and he can go on for hours. You attempted to enjoy your meal, all while trying your utmost not to look across from you but it was so damn hard. Seeing Mycroft hit you like a truck. It brought back all of those unpleasant memories.

--

You had walked into the restaurant, eager and ready. You thought that perhaps ... just maybe... this would be one of the best nights of your life. Mycroft, your partner, had admitted that he had been hiding something and was ready to come clean. You and your girl friends thought this meant that he was going to tell you that he loves you. You wore your best outfit, you had gotten your hair done, your make up was perfect. You were going to open your heart once he did and say those three words back.

You loved him, you loved him, you loved him. The way that he was so smooth. So debonair. So ambitious. He was going places. You were so proud of him for all of it. Every contact that he made, who he’d tell you about, getting excited like a child because he shook the hand of someone in parliament. He opened doors for you, he would ask you what you wanted at a restaurant and then order it for you, he’d send you flowers when you did well on an exam.

That wasn’t what it was at all. You were having your heart broken. Decimated. Crushed beyond recognition.

An experiment. For school. That’s what this whole thing had been. He’d been studying the psychology of romantic couples, and what better way was there to study than be a part of one himself? He proudly showed you the marks that he had gotten, the stacks of notes in case you wanted to read them over. He had only done a good job because he had a good partner. Well done. Cheerio. Claps all around.

You couldn’t breathe. You felt like you were drowning, you just wanted to flail, to kick, to pull yourself up into the air but you were also terrified of making a scene in the restaurant, of having everyone look at you and know immediately that you were nothing more than a grade, not good for anything else. Wasted time, wasted effort, wasted love.

“Excuse me,” You said, throwing your napkin down on your half-finished meal and you departed. You didn’t go to the bathroom, you walked home. All fourteen blocks. Your heels clicked and clacked against the London streets, and you hadn’t paid any attention to anyone who walked past you. You think, perhaps, someone had asked you if you were alright? But you weren’t. You just kept walking until your feet hurt, and then you took off your shoes, carried them in your hands, and kept on walking. You had dropped one. You got home with only one of them but you didn’t care. You dropped into your bed and stayed there for two full days.

Mycroft tried to call a couple of times. You kept the phone off the hook. He tried to call some of your friends, but after they had found out what had happened, they said such scathing things that he hadn’t dared to call again. A part of you was hoping that he would show up at your dorm, or at one of your classes and tell you that he knew he had made a mistake, but that was not something that a Holmes would ever do. As far as you knew, he had never showed up.

Time went on, life went on, but you never forgot the pain. You never forgot Mycroft. You tried to go on dates with other men, your friends setting you up, dating apps, people from work, but it never felt right. If they didn’t open the doors for you, or offer to order for you, it felt like you weren’t being treated quite right. If they did do those things, since there are still gentlemen left in the world, you couldn’t trust that there was some ulterior motive. That this was a study. A joke. Nothing ever got past a first date. A spinster by twenty-five.

--

You hated how much you looked at him while you were trying not to. Out of the corner of your eye, there he was. In the reflection of your knife. Of your wineglass. Every time that you heard his voice, you remembered the sweet nights, the old dates. The conversations that lasted for hours. You tried to focus on what Sherlock was saying, but it felt impossible. You were trying to overcome that feeling of drowning again. Trying to keep in control and not just walk out like you had the last time.

But when it came down to it, you were still just help in a study. Whether it was for school, or for a case, it was all the same.

When the waiter came around with the bill, you jumped at the chance to leave at an appropriate time. You went through your purse, dug out some notes, and put them onto the table. “Well, gentlemen, it has been a lovely evening.” Your voice was shaky, giving you away. You did your best to ignore that. Pretend it didn’t happen. Pretend a lot of this didn’t happen, for your own sake. “I’m glad you have been of help, and I hope all goes well.”

“So you do still love him,” Sherlock said, making all eyes at the table, including yours, turn to him. And then six were right back on you.

“P-pardon?” You asked, hoping you heard him incorrectly.

“You’re flushed, your palms are sweaty,” Sherlock started to list.

“It’s warm in here.”

“Your voice went higher once he came in-”

“Did not.”

“The complete and utter avoidance while you were still mirroring his movements,”

“We’re at a restaurant, everyone is eating here...”

“And you’ve been fidgeting for the past half hour,” Sherlock finished.

“How do you know I don’t just fidget all of the time?” You argued.

“Pardon, I forgot becoming defensive.”

You couldn’t take anymore. You finally looked right over to Mycroft. Stared into his blue-gray eyes. And then yours narrowed. “I’ll never forgive what you did to me, Mycroft Holmes. Not for any of it.”

And you stood up then. No one tried to stop you this time around. Sherlock didn’t have anything witty to say, or if he did, it blended in with the rest of the noise of the restaurant. You took your leave. You stepped out into the gloomy London evening, raised your arm and fetched yourself a cab. You got into it slowly, situating yourself, looking towards the door of the restaurant, hoping and also dreading that he might come out. That Mycroft is going to run out and apologize and grovel at your feet. No. He didn’t happen. So you gave your address to the patient cab driver and made your way home.

At least you had both shoes on this time.