#pictures in a broken frame x. self

[ghostyuri]

dreaming about you and me

click here!

pairing…ellie williams x gn!reader

in which…ellie moves back to jackson after a year, hoping you had waited for her.

before you read…angst. modern day fic. emo ellie. like biggg loser ellie. sad sad ellie. ellie has a cat. some bad words.

leaving the chaotic city and lousy job and miserable relationship should be exciting. being welcomed by the familiar wyoming weather, and warm embraces from joel and dina should be exhilarating.

but instead, ellie felt a vast emptiness that seemed to seep from the walls and settle deep within her. she felt alone— again.

her phone occasionally bings with an email while she waits for a text; from you. something she hasn’t received in 8 months.

not that she’s keeping count…or occasionally opens your messages to reread your happier conversations. it’s unfortunately one of the only things that helped her sleep at night, next to a girl she knew didn’t love her. not the way you do…or did.

you were friends. really really good friends.

friends that had to be invited to places together, or neither were going. friends that spent more time in each other’s bedrooms than their own. friends that slept skin to skin, no blanket being able to replicate the warmth the other gave.

friends that kissed the day ellie left; then never spoke about it again.

the occasional calls were long, and they were sweet. you asked ellie about everything and anything as she adjusted to her amazing new life.

her new place, that she was quick to inform you there’s a framed photo of you guys together on her nightstand. it’s from a summer bonfire when she had got high and used your very old camera until it ran out of storage. it's a great picture, though. you look so pretty in it, she reminds you.

she’d rant about her new job, her asshole of a boss, and her overly friendly coworker that somehow annoyed you more than her. the way she described the girl, how clingy she was to your ellie. but you would laugh it off, masking the jealousy with light-hearted jokes, daring not to show how much it truly bothered you.

then, a few weeks later, the worst had happened.

ellie suddenly had a girlfriend, and you suddenly had a broken heart.

you could only be happy for her. even if that meant your phone calls were picked up by another girl, telling you that ellie was busy. even if that meant your texts declined over time, cat memes being sent with only a laughing emoji in response. no genuine, heart-to-heart conversations. the ones you yearned for most on your loneliest nights.

and you had to be happy for ellie. even if she wasn’t for herself.

the worst part is, ellie noticed you begin to pull away, and she let you. she let you go.

now she sits here, on her cheap brown sofa, staring at the tv that has yet to be hooked up. phone in her hand, like an idiot waiting for something that’s not going to happen just because she wishes it would. she simply cannot manifest you to come back. she has to do something about it.

after seconds of contemplation, she curses to herself, grabbing the device and calling your number. which rings, and rings, and rings, up until voicemail. which she decides to leave.

“uh— hey, y/n,” she gets up, scratching the back of her neck, “im…im in jackson…for good,” she chuckles nervously, “if you want to catch up, im free the next couple of days. just let me know…um…bye.”

fucking dumbass, she thinks, ending it and dropping her phone on the couch behind her. the worst you can say is no.

ellie wished that were true.

the worst had happened, and it’s you ignoring her completely. days pass and there’s absolutely nothing from you. she hopes to see you around town, making sure she looks decent enough just to run and pick up groceries, but luck is not on ellie’s side.

a week home and she’s only seeing you in her imagination. flashbacks of the evening she left, a beautiful day before a horrid storm.

ellie is self-aware, she knows it’s pathetic to keep moving in place rather than moving on. pretending like you still care for her as she does to you, even if you have yet to communicate it.

she knows it’s wrong. and she can only mourn the idea of no longer having you for so long.

as told by joel, she should only focus on what she has control of. don’t know when he got the time to read a self-help book, but she listens to him. joel was usually right, she hates it sometimes.

he was the first one to see the sparkle in her eye when she spoke about you. even though she denied what he had thought you two were— he continued to tell her that you’re a good one, and not to screw it up.

she could only laugh about that now.

weeks pass, and her apartment feels more like a home now, unpacked with her little trinkets scattered around the place. the first damn thing she did was stick her glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of her bedroom because you know, priorities. she likes staring at them before bed, knowing you two used to do it together. homemade star gazing, you’d tell her.

her first few days working with joel at his construction company went well. it’s tiring, she comes home feeling like she went swimming in a bucket of sweat, but it’s a nice distraction. and a nice way to keep her arms toned. the summer sun caused her freckles to multiply over her shoulders and collarbones, something you used to admire.

dina and jesse have been spending time with her, smoking at one of the lakes in jackson while sitting in the back of her red pickup truck. a playlist will play lowly from the vehicle's speakers, a few songs she only learned because of you. songs you had told her reminded you of her. she finds herself humming along, the melodies bringing back memories that carve into the center of her heart.

she came home one night, very high, and saw a stray cat digging into a plastic bag filled with garbage. without thinking twice, she crouched down and called to the cat softly. it rubbed against her, and she fell in love. she threw the garbage out and brought the little creature inside. she now has a black cat named orion. the very first constellation she taught you about amongst the many.

it’s hard, the constant reminders of you in little day-to-day things, but ellie gets passed it.

slowly, but surely, she’s finding herself; without you. it’s healthy. it’s good. she’s good.

it’s a random tuesday night when her phone vibrates while she’s getting off work, the woman pulling it out of her pocket while wiping the grim from her forehead. a message, from you.

would you wanna meet up tomorrow?

her heart beats out of her chest, leaning against the chipping paint on her truck. she can’t help it— she responds right away.

yea, is my place cool?

ellie stares at the screen, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, tapping her converse on the cement. when you don’t answer promptly, ellie sends another text.

we can do dinner, i can order a pizza. or a movie if you wanna.

you can probably read her tone through the screen, the desperation. but having you right there at that moment, she doesn’t care. especially when you agree— part of her not expecting you to.

ellie gets in her head, part of her convincing herself it was a date…ish…the humbling part of her telling her it was a casual hangout. it’s a win either way. she could see you for a mere minute and still be satisfied.

ellie went home that night, fed her sweet cat, and passed out on her messy bed.

with you in mind, of course.

the following day is long as fuck. she’s antsy, convincing joel to let her go early, organizing the most random shit in her apartment. you hadn’t even reached out yet, she doesn’t know when you’re gonna bless her with your presence.

she doesn’t know if you still like peppers on your pizza, but she orders it anyway. she doesn’t know if you want a romcom or a horror movie, so she finds options for both. she’s anxious, grabbing a beer from the fridge hoping it eases her somewhat.

ellie glances at her phone for the fiftieth time, worried she might have missed a text. she doesn’t. and as hours pass, she drinks more and more.

you never show up.

the full moon is up in the sky by this point. and once again, like deja vu, there is nothing from you. and it hurts.

her mind is foggy from the alcohol she occupied herself with while waiting for you, half of the untouched pizza is cold as it sits on her counter. her cat is watching her pace back and forth.

why? why would you lie to her? why would you get her hopes up after so long? she’s beyond upset. she’s pissed off. you’ve never made her feel this way.

then you text her.

can’t make it. im sorry

she huffs through her nose, shaking her head, then she calls you. which, you ignore, and you ignore again, and again. she keeps calling, she doesn’t care if she’s annoying you. in fact, she wants to. if that’s what it takes for you to acknowledge her.

it’s the tenth time when she listens to the automated voice speak to her, that she leaves a voicemail.

“hey, y/n, dunno if you remember me,” she laughs, scratching the back of her neck, “seems like you don’t. think im a stranger to you now. might as well be, you clearly don’t want to see me anymore— what the fuck —h-how could you? i-i get it, i messed up— i-i left —but im fucking trying here, y/n. and you have to make this so fucking hard for me.”

her voice is breaking, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and despite trying to hold them back, she can't stop them from falling. “we were friends…more than friends…y-you fucking kissed me before i left…or did you forget that? d-did that mean nothing to you? why did you do that? i thought about it for months…d-did you?”

ellie’s rage shifts to pain, catching her off guard. she clenches her jaw, struggling to keep her composure, then takes a deep, shaky breath.

“i-i just miss you…i miss you so bad it fucking hurts. i came back because of you, you know that? and i haven’t even seen you— it drives me crazy. im fucking losing my mind here, y/n. all i think about is you. i wish…i wish you felt the same…i don’t know how to get over you. just tell me how to. please— i’ll leave you alone. just tell me to.”

i’ll leave you alone. just tell me to.

ellie’s soft voice cracks, you dread it. many things bother you in this universe. one of them is bearing witness to ellie breaking down and not being able to comfort her.

you were the only one that could— the only one she felt comfortable expressing herself to. except now you are the cause of it. and that is the worst feeling in the world.

you pull your phone away from your ear, turn it off, and place it face down on the table before you. your dinner is still hot and untouched, your partner’s plate mirroring yours. they took a phone call nearly ten minutes ago, an unimportant one, but they valued anything and anyone else before you.

you don’t know why you’re here…why you ditched her for them. someone you love for someone you don’t. someone who needs you for someone who barely wants you.

a place to stay? a body to keep you warm at night? a person to bring home to your family? what’s the point? she’s home. she’s here. and she’s not out of touch, she’s within your grasp, yet you won’t commit to reaching out to her. why?

“mind putting that away for me? friend needs a favor,” your partner quickly says, already out the door before you could even question them or say goodbye.

you’re alone, but you’ve felt lonely in this dim house since the day you came here.

but nothing is keeping you here. you get up, not bothering to clean up the meal you spent an hour making, throwing on a jacket and grabbing your keys.

you drive to ellie’s place. it feels long, catching every red light and driving down roads with the lowest speed limits. you don’t even know if she’ll still be awake by the time you arrive, or if she even wants to see you anymore. but you need to see her.

you lazily park on the street, letting yourself into the building and knocking rapidly on her door. you can hear muffled music playing from inside her unit, then her footsteps.

“i’ll turn it down—” ellie barely opens the door, and doesn’t look at you, not until your hand is on the wood when she attempts to close it.

when she does, her eyes are bloodshot, and she freezes in place.

“can you let me in?”

she hesitates, not because she doesn’t want to, but rather she can’t believe a drunken voicemail had you at her doorstep so damn quick. she obeys, stepping aside, unable to look away from you. you’d do the same, but you’re too distracted by her home.

the fern green color scheme that compliments it, the framed rare trading cards on her shelves, a photo of astronaut cats on her wall that you had gifted her. so many things that made her, her. very nerdy, very adorable, things. and then you look at her, absolutely desolated before you.

“i…i thought…i thought you couldn’t…” she can’t get the sentence out, scanning your face as she tries to speak. you look so so beautiful. she wishes she could forget the things she said to you, and how upset she is with you right now.

“i was worried,” you admit, “you didn’t sound okay.”

“i’m not,” she laughs, walking past you, the smell of cigarette smoke and oak hugging her body. you follow her to the couch, the woman plopping her body on it, looking up at you with doe eyes.

it’s like she’s expecting you to speak first, to address the shitty message she left you. maybe scold her, yell at her, but you don’t. you kneel before her, placing your hands gently on her knees.

“what you said…i don’t…want you out of my life, ellie,” you tell her softly, thumb rubbing the denim of her jeans, “i could never want that.”

“you have a fucking funny way of showing that,” ellie spits, laughing dryly, “i asked for one thing tonight. and you— you only came here out of pity.”

“i wanted to see you.” “no the fuck you didn’t.”

“yes i—” “jesus christ, stop lying to me,” her voice raises slightly hiding her face behind her hands as she squeezes her eyes shut. “i’m not.”

“you are!” she suddenly throws her hands forward, “l-like when you told me you loved me that night, you remember that?”

it’s the same night you kissed her, the very same moment. the one that is very clearly haunting her, as it does you. it was honest, both those three words you’ve felt for her the moment you got attached to her and the kiss you only pulled away from when you were suffocating against her lips.

neither of you wanted it to end, but it did, along with whatever your relationship was. it was killed, and it is utterly haunting you two.

you move your hands to her own, feeling how hot they are against your cold ones. you two always balanced each other out. “i do love you, els.”

”stop,” she mumbles, “please…stop.”

“i’m not lying to you,” you promise, “yea, i-i pushed you away but you moved away, ellie, you have to understand that.”

ellie is silently crying again, shaking her head, repeating the word ‘stop,’ in a hushed tone. “then you found someone, and so did i, and it got so damn complicated,” you continue, “i don’t want it to be…and i do…i do want you.”

“what?”

“i want to go back— to what we had. i want that, els, i want you.”

she stares at you through her wet lashes, afraid to speak, wondering if you mean it. or if this was a pity love confession, or if this was a cruel joke, or if this was real. any other possibility than you genuinely yearning for her the way she did you.

her head feels heavy, it’s too much.

you hold her knuckles, softly rubbing them, shifting on your knees to lean closer to her. “i need you, ellie,” you whisper, she’s heard those words before.

it was you going to a party you were anxious about. it was you watching a horrible movie you’d only tolerate with her beside you. it was you sobbing on your front porch, waiting to see her headlights in the rain. it was her telling you she was leaving this town and you behind. you needed her then, you need her now.

you push yourself forward, a hand on her cheek to dry whatever tears had wet it. she leans into your hand like her cat does when she gives it affection, wanting it to last forever. then, she feels your soft lips on her forehead, ellie sighing at the sensation.

you tell her once more, “i love you.”

it’s too good to be true.

maybe, if the timing was right, it would be real. if she never left you, if you didn’t settle for something you could hardly call a relationship, if you could just let her back in— this bittersweet moment would happen.

but that’s simply not ellie’s or your reality.

your reality is sitting at an empty kitchen table, your dinner cold, listening to her voicemail on repeat, thinking about how you could just change your mind right there and leave. to see her, tell her everything you want to. but you don’t.

you end up going to bed with a heavy heart. your partner comes home, apologizing for leaving you, holding you to sleep, making you feel loved enough that you don’t want to leave that bed.

ellie passes out with a black-and-white movie playing in the background, envisioning you there with her, trying to salvage what you two have left. telling her you love her again, reassuring her that you truly mean it, that you want her. that you two could live the life you yearn for, but you’re not, and she can’t make you.

she will wait for you.

[phighting-x-you]

this whole yandere phighting x human reader could turn into series can't wait to see your writing for part 3

valk and dom tell reader on what the phighters is about to do to them which reader obviously freak out.

I love cooking for you guys ehehehe,,,

Yandere! Phighting x human! reader part 3!!!

First thing the Flipside Brothers did was open up the Phighting! roster on their shared computer and scanned through it (Coil had showed mostly everyone how to do it after you had been transported here).

Looking through the list, they had found something interesting. Most Phighters had a small, white crown beside their names. They had learned the crown had symbolized having something called "admin commands".

"Why is everyone an admin?" Valk murmers, taking his glasses off to clearly look at the screen. "Where did Coil even learn to do this?" Dom pondered the question silently. Suddenly, he pointed something else.

"There, look!" His finger jerked towards Katana's name. It was the only name in the list lacking a crown. "Why doesn't Katana have the commands? Surely that must mean something."

"Here's what we'll do." Valk said, turning to his brother. "You stay here and make sure this doesn't disappear, I've got a phone call to make." Valk quickly stepped out of the room, fishing his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. Dom, meanwhile, took a picture of the screen incase it disappeared.

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

Katana had been sitting by his fireplace, listening to the crackling as he fretted silently over the upcoming party.

Suddenly, his phone rang. Unhooking the phone from the wall, he held it up to his ear.

"Hello, Katana?" An urgent voice leaked through the phone's speaker.

"Who is this."

"It's Valk, y'know, from the Flipside. Listen, y-you've gotta come over. It's bad, really bad, what we've discovered."

"...I'll be there soon."

Katana cut the call and hooked the phone back up to its spot on the wall. Putting out his fire, he grabbed his gear - partially broken from Hyperlaser ripping it away from him - and travelled out into the night.

As soon as Katana arrived, the Brothers showed Katana their findings and told them about what would happen at the party.

"I'm aware." The samurai spoke solemnly, gazing at the photo displaying the list of names.

"Y-You knew?" Valk asked, dumbfounded. He stood up and slammed his hands on the table, exasperated. "Then why the hell didn't you-"

"I was attacked." Katana answered, cutting the smaller idol off. "I tried to warn Y/N, but Subspace and his minions found us and stopped me."

His voice was unusually shaky. Katana was known for showing little emotion, but ever since the game had become self-aware, his voice had trouble staying calm. "He wanted to kill me. And Hyperlaser..."

He stopped himself. It was silent for a few moments before Dom cleared his throat, resting chin ontop of his clasped hands.

"We have to do something. Otherwise, one of the two may happen." He declares lowly. "Y/N will either end up mutilated, or the process may kill them."

"But, even if we did stop them, how do we even get Y/N out of here?" Valk questions. "I mean, it isn't like we can get then out of the game, can we?"

"...we can-"

A loud knock at the front door caused all three Inphernals to jump. Katana froze, too afraid to move. What if it was Subspace looking for him again? Dom stood up.

"Stay here." He said, and cautiously headed to answer the front door. Valk and Katana, on the other hand, stayed put, not moving an inch.

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

Dom answered the door, revealing an anxious Boombox. The eyes on his visors were big O shapes.

"O-Oh! Dom, hey! I-"

"Boombox, I'm really busy right now." Dom said, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded. Boombox swallowed, as if he was about to confess to murder. Then, he broke down completely.

"L-Look, man, I screwed up. Big time. I need your guys' help." The DJ pleaded, frantically looking back over his shoulder. Hesitantly, Dom pulled Boombox inside and locked the door. After fully locking it, he turned to face the DJ as he leaned against the door.

"What is it?" He asked, the impatience slipping off his tongue. He was caught off guard when Boombox desperate grabbed onto his arms and stared him down, tears pouring down from behind his visor.

"THEY'RE GONNA KILL-" Dom quickly clamped his hand around Boombox's mouth, afraid of attracting any unwanted guests from outside.

Firmly, he pulled him into the living room. Removing his hand, he motioned for the DJ to talk as long as he was quiet. Gasping, Boombox pulled his visor off and violently rubbed at his eyes.

"T-They're gonna kill me...! I-I said too m-much a-an-and Y-Y/N looked at me weirdly a-and I saw Hyperlaser whispering s-something to Medkit- I'm done for, d-dude!" He rambled, struggling to stop the flow of tears.

Dom put his hands on Boombox's face, attempting to steady the troubled musician. "Hey, hey. Nobody's going to kill you. What did you say that was "too much"?" Dom questioned, wiping a tear away with his thumb. Boombox leaned into his hands, as if he were a child who was desperate for reassurance from an adult.

"Well...

...I never knew you sold actual boomboxes." You said, taking a sip of your milkshake. Boombox was polishing his stock as you spoke. He looked over towards you, smiling.

"Well, being a salesman isn't my main profession, it's more of a side-hustle. Just to make some quick cash if I've gotta buy anything." He responded, sitting the newly-clean speaker on a nearby shelf.

"So, you excited for the party?" Boombox asked, sitting down beside you. Nodding your head, you smiled gleefully. He smiled back, patting your shoulder.

"I can't believe it's been half a year already, time really does fly." You mused, automatically leaning into the DJ's touch. Boombox felt his face heating up, his visor's eyes turning into spirals.

"Y-Yeah, it's insane!" He answered, focusing to much on your touch to stop blurting out the next sentence. Feels like a lifetime ago since we brought you here."

As soon as he said that, Boombox felt you shifting quickly, and that was all he needed to tell him that he had screwed up.

"You brought me here?" You asked, quirking an eyebrow in curiosity. Mentally cursing himself, Boombox quickly shook his head.

"Oh, no! We didn't!" He stumbled over his words in an attempt to save the situation. "I was just..repeating a lyric I'd written earlier! I'm taking up songwriting, y'see?"

Miraculously, you smiled, letting out a small "ohh" sound to indicate you believed him. Sighing shakily, he shook his head and grinned.

"Oh, I should get going! Sword said he was going to teach me how to spar!" You said, getting up. You and Boombox said your goodbyes before going to meet Sword wherever he was.

Sighing with relief, Boombox stood up and stretched. He loosened his tie and undid one of his top buttons, lying in the heat of the moment had made him sweaty.

He looked around, and his heart stopped. Hyperlaser was staring at him from afar, standing beside Medkit, who had a scornful expression on his face. Boombox felt sick.

...that's what happened." Boombox concluded his story, clamping his hands over Dom's for comfort. The idol sighed, pulling Boombox close, rubbing his back as the DJ began to sob again.

"You're safe here, nobody's gonna hurt you. I promise. Dom spoke, tilting Boombox's face up to meet his eyes. Boombox calmed down at his soothing voice.

"I just feel awful. We didn't even ask Y/N about the idea, we just assumed they'd like being turned into an Inphernal. A-And-"

A cautious knock on the door interrupted Boombox, startling him. He began to shake again, convinced Medkit or Hyperlaser had found him. Feeling Boombox's anxious body shivering, Dom pulled out his phone to see at his door, and sighed.

"Boombox, it's okay. It's nobody here to hurt you, it's only Y/N. They look worried." He explained, gently letting Boombox go. "I'll go let them inside, okay?" Boombox wiped a tear away as Dom went to let you inside.

Opening the door, you looked up at Dom, giving him a wryly smile. He motioned for you to come inside, and you immediately saw Boombox, rushing towards him and enveloping him in a hug.

"Boombox, are you alright? I was looking everywhere for you! Medkit said-"

"Stop." Boombox cut you off, grabbing your hands and squeezing them. Your eyes widened, confused and anxious. "Just stop. Y/N I- I need to tell you something. I need to tell you the truth."

"What truth?" You inquired, the near unfamiliar feeling of fear seeping into your stomach. Boombox looked over at Dom, who nodded his head. The idol sighed.

"Y/N. Come with us, we need to talk to you. You haven't done anything wrong, but...you might not be safe." Before you could question him further, Boombox pulled you into a lung-crushing hug, squeezing the life out of you while repeatedly whispering "I'm sorry - I'm so, so sorry."

A nearby door creaked open, getting Dom's attention. Valk was looking right at him, his face riddled with nerves. Dom sighed, looking back at you and Boombox. It was time to tell you everything.

[mullermilkshake]

He still won't let you go.

Part 2 <- -> Part 3

Kento Nanami x Fem reader! Tags -DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,Imprisonment,Held captive,Referenced domestic violence,Psychological abuse,Self preservation sex though non-con,Breeding,Trying for a baby,Gojo is just there,You don't trust anyone

<<< For more Nanami content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

“That is it.” Kento dragged you back up to his apartment kicking and screaming. 

You only just narrowly avoided your head on the door frame when he threw you inside the apartment. No one had even bothered to emerge from their apartments to even see what the commotion was about, not even the woman in six-o-two.

“I have had it with your attitude and it is now something I cannot stand. I thought we were making progress but you have left me with no choice.” He hadn’t wiped away the blood splatter from his face dripping down the back of his shirt covering it in red. 

“Just let me go. This is fucked, you need help. I have a life and you aren’t a part of it!” This all probably sounded like a domestic, no one came though, no one knocked to see if you needed help.

Silence. His back faced you, the door lock click was muffled. Kento didn’t move from that spot. You glanced around the room for anything to defend yourself with, broken shards of the lamp still as they were, close to cutting your knees.

Nothing. Nothing of substance that could get in some damage to slow that tank of a man down in order for you to get to the lobby and call the authorities. Though right now, his silent stance was even more frightening than if he was to shout in your face and throw you around or hold that knife to you.

You still couldn’t see his face and his body language didn’t give away anything for you to gauge what he was thinking. It made him all the more dangerous.

“I told you how I felt, so why can you not accept it? This is how it is now and you aren’t making anything easier by hurting me. That lamp…” He turned slowly and leant against the hallway wall by the picture frame. “It hurt me. And it might hurt you if you aren’t too careful, you'll cut your knees.”

A few steps and he was in front of you, crouched down. “This can be a good thing for the both of us, but it can get difficult if you continue to fight me every step of the way.”

If you pushed him now with every ounce of your might and strength, maybe, just maybe you could get to the door quick enough to unlock it and try again. Your throbbing scalp was a reminder of what would happen if you got caught again, he was on high alert enough as it was. 

It was indicative of the fact he took your wrists in either hand and squeezed a little, not enough to hurt, more of a warning. “Even now, you can’t even bear to look at me even after all I've done for you, all you think about is leaving me. I can give you everything, anything that most people would jump at the opportunity to have. A loving partner who worships the very ground they walk on. But you just turn your nose at it.” 

He’s going to snap at any moment, I just know it.  

You could see it, hands pulled away and his own wrapped around your throat until your legs stopped kicking, and those frantic arms would thrash and claw at his face until they went limp. No air left in those burning lungs until that shine left your eyes. 

He didn't. Kento placed your wrists in one hand and brought the other up to your face. “I told you I love you, Darling. Why is it so hard for you to understand that there is no one on this earth that will ever love you as much as I do? You make me a better person.”

If he was a better person with you present, you would really hate to see him without you. Like he was some axe wielding maniac who destroyed everything he touched and morphed into a deranged puppy dog whenever he saw you just to make you humanise him.

Yeah, that was utter bullshit.

“I’ll admit my mistakes and apologise for how aggressive I may have been out in the hallway. But had you not attacked me, maybe we could have talked about it like adults.”

Like adults. Speaking to you like a child and he lifted your chin to face him, like you wouldn’t speak unless spoken to. “Now, let’s finish this.”

“...Alright.” Some called it Stockholm syndrome or sympathising with your captor. 

You called it playing the long game, because as soon as he trusted you enough to leave the apartment, you were gone.

And you’d make sure this time he would never find you.

-----

“Can you pass the salt, Darling?”

Ten months. Fifteen days and nineteen hours.

Kento Nanami didn’t let you go.

You guess you were just desensitised, numb to this dire situation, trying your damnedest to play the part of loving partner until you were certain you could leave. Sometimes you actually started to believe it, a fleeting thought that you shook away to remind you of all the damage the bastard had done to you.

Anyone who knew you must have assumed you were dead.

“Here you go.”

You picked up the salt and handed from one end of the table and next to Kento who was to the left of you. It was hard not to struggle to push past the intrusive thoughts like overhanging branches, holding back the urge to launch it at his head, or shove it down his throat and laugh whilst his friend watched on in horror. 

Satoru Gojo started coming by the apartment for the last few months now, coming once or twice a week for dinner and talking of business and boring stuff you never took time to listen to. 

It was a test. A test to see whether you had learned your lesson or would jump at the opportunity to get away and tell Gojo everything. You didn’t dare make a move, but it wasn’t because you assumed Kento would catch you in the act of escape using a man you didn’t know. It was because you assumed Gojo was in on the whole thing and would sell you out.

He must have been. No one could have enough to talk about the same subject for two hours over dinner each time. And most of it, Gojo didn’t really acknowledge you. 

You kept quiet most of the time, it could be that. There was a fine line between overdoing it and appearing like you were there against your will and it took time, but you pretty much had it down by now.

Starting down at your plate, you forced yourself to eat something. Dinners like this never gave you an appetite, just sitting more or less in silence with Kento’s hand plastered on your thigh the entire time. 

Gojo put his cutlery down and turned his head towards you. This dinner was different. “So, enough boring stuff tonight, we're about to close this deal and I think the countless over time we’ve gotten has given us enough work talk. Let’s hear more about you, do you work?”

Like Kento would even allow that. He didn’t even let you speak when Gojo addressed you, in fact he placed his hand over your thigh. “She doesn’t. But we were thinking of starting a family soon, weren’t we, Darling?”

Hiding your spluttering in your glass was difficult, though Gojo didn’t seem to notice. Kento’s fingers dug in, squeezed just enough to give you a cue, just like all the other times you were expected to agree with him.

“Yeah…” What the fuck. “Soon.”

Gojo smiled, grinned more like. “Wow, that’s awesome. I never expected the two of you goin’ for that step just yet, you've been together, what, a year?”

“The time is right. You’ll know when your time is when you stop being a bachelor.” His response wasn’t a dig like it sounded. It was more just a defensive comment, a way to tell Gojo to back off without actually telling him.

Holding his hands up, Gojo chuckled. “Woah, there’s nothin’ wrong with not settling down. Why stay with one person? That calls for commitment.”

Kento got increasingly defensive and jealous if Gojo was even in close proximity to you. But now he was actually acknowledging you, it wasn’t clear how this was going to go. One thing you knew was true was that there wasn’t a chance in hell that you would ever have children with this maniac.

You were going to be out of this place before there was even a chance.

“When will you ever grow up?”

“Eh… Maybe in like twenty years and I go through my midlife crisis.” Gojo looked at you once more with a smile sweeter than honey. “Is he always this grumpy? Maybe you’re going through a midlife crisis already, Nanami.”

He was grumpy and far too serious. Knowing that was all on the surface and the chance that Gojo would not have encountered the side of Kento you saw every day twisted large knots and lumps in your stomach.

Again, Kento cut you off before you managed to get a word out. “I think it’s important to know what you want in life, cruising won’t get you anywhere.”

His hand moved and pulled the material of your dress up to expose the skin of your thigh, the pad of his thumb caressing there absentmindedly. So close, you could take the knife from the table and stab it straight through his hand, or his wrist enough to draw blood and distract him to get away.

But then how would you deal with Gojo?

“Goals are important.” You said, placing your cutlery down and being acutely aware of Gojo’s lingering stare.

Remain calm. Get involved. 

“They are.” Kento’s hand relaxed. “I also think that dessert is important too. I won’t be a moment.”

He cleared the table and took the plates away and all you wanted to do was breathe into a paper bag. Kento never got dessert.

You did.

“Hey.” Gojo's voice was only a whisper, waving his hand a little to get your attention. “Are you alright?” 

It was a test. This was a test to see if you really had accepted the life Kento gave you. You wanted to be honest and ask for his help though how could you? This life made you distrust anyone that came to you. The old woman in the lobby, a delivery guy who noticed you from the doorway in the corner of the living room, and everyone who didn’t try to find you.

“Yep.” Nodding helped convince yourself.

“He isn’t mistreating you, right?” Fuck it really was a trap.

“No. I love him.” You forced the bile in your throat to stay as it was.

He didn’t seem convinced and fiddled with his napkin, making a glance towards the kitchen every so often. “If you need anything. You can trust me.” 

Yeah right. You couldn’t trust him as far as you could throw him.

“I’m fine.”

You thought about that interaction the entire duration until Gojo was leaving. He made little discreet glances towards you as he ate his dessert, talking away and entertaining Kento like nothing had happened. Part of you wished you had told him the truth, taking a leap of faith just in case he was trusting, the other part criticised you for even thinking that. If Kento caught wind of it, you would have no luck getting out. 

Next time you left, Kento wouldn’t be so forgiving if he caught you.

“Gojo sure seemed friendly with you tonight.” The door hadn’t even fully closed after his friend left for the night. 

Fiddling with the little belt of your dress settled your nerves for just a second. “I think he was just being polite.”

Kento didn’t look at you right away, but turned and moved past you through the apartment. “Come to bed.”

The dishes were piled up in the sink, cleaning the dishes on your own was the only time you got to yourself really if Kento was in the apartment. “The dishes-”

“I said come to bed.”

Like a mouse you were, trudging behind him and following to the bedroom. Perhaps that cable hanging out the outlet was enough to hook over his head and choke him to the point of passing out? It would take a while and you were hardly in shape to even try and take him on, but you were getting desperate.

Kento got on the bed and leant his back against the headboard, he tapped his lap and invited you over. Maybe I could try something like how I used the lamp again?  

Fat chance. That day, the one you almost escaped, he took every lamp, picture frame and heavy ornament that wasn’t nailed down and threw it all out. Like you had stated before, he was an intelligent man and learned incredibly fast, so fast you couldn’t keep up.

He seemed to enjoy it when you straddled him and sat there over his legs so he could see you, study you like a portrait in an art gallery. Sometimes he would sit and look at you for what seemed a lifetime while you twiddled your fingers and looked anywhere but his direction.

He might have been thinking of all the ways he loved you. You only thought about ways you’d hurt him, end him for good so he could only plague your nightmares.

Kento was studying you right now with his hand on your thigh just like before. “Maybe we should start a family right now. I don’t think we should wait-”

“N-no.” Your facade slipped for a second and his expression changed. Angry. “I mean… we’re in a one bedroom apartment.”

It took you off guard completely, never anticipating that it could be a sentence slipping his lips tonight. He really was deranged and how he never saw that you were less than honest with your responses eluded you.

“And?” He spoke so sure like it was already decided. 

Quick, think of anything and don’t fuck it up.  

“There’s no room for a baby, we should look for somewhere with an extra room, right?” You couldn’t have a child with this man, even if you got away, he would be tied to you for years. 

“You do want a child with me, don’t you?” Would he now see through your lie enough to undo all of the trust you had built with him?

“Yes. I do, yes. But everything has to be right, we need more room.”

He nodded, it worked? Holy fuck . “Let’s try anyway, it could take a while and we have plenty of time to find a house or bigger apartment, I could buy it outright, actually.”

Wait, what? There was nothing you could say, nothing that could diffuse it without getting him getting suspicious of your loyalty to him. You already sensed his hands moving your dress and there was already his growing hardness between your legs.

“You agree, finally. I’ve wanted to bring this up for a while but I was sure you’d say no. You really have settled in, haven’t you?”

So you gained his trust enough and he believed your lies, but at what cost? This wasn’t a win at all, another dead end that you couldn’t dig yourself out of without undoing all the hard work you did.

Change of plans, there wasn’t time anymore to plan and wait, you’d need to find an opening soon to get out for good before this shit show went any further. 

Kento pulled at your dress and got it over your head to which you weren’t wearing anything underneath. So naturally, you pulled your arms back to cover yourself. He held them fast, gripping at the wrists, not entirely hard enough to hurt, but it stung all the same. 

“You’re beautiful, Darling. Don’t hide yourself.”

Holding your arms he pulled you close and sucked your nipple, licking in ways that should have felt good, but being desensitised and numb took that all away from you. You remembered to make some noises and avoided overdoing it, no one that hated someone's guts would get that much enjoyment.

“Good girl.”

You played the part and moved your hips over his cock and it garnered a rough inhale from him. Full on ass rubbing him slowly, sensually like you actually cared about him. Since your first time despite his big talk before that, Kento had always gone slow as though he was afraid to break you like you were made of glass.

Something changed enough to throw you off guard, an almost animalistic nature that Kento had not displayed in the bedroom before. He was rough and firm, almost rushing to pull his belt loose and get the zip down to pull his hardened erection out.

“Let’s start the rest of our lives together… and then I’ll know.” He spat on his hand and rubbed the length of his cock.

“Know what- fuck” He pressed himself inside you, slowly at first so you could adjust. It still stung.

“Then I’ll know you haven’t been lying to me this whole time.” This was the test? There was no way you could back out now.

And it went on like that, most nights. Kento fucking you senseless until he was satisfied, filling you up a few times with the stamina of a horse. If you were lucky, you’d finish quickly enough to get it all out of the way to finish the night, but even then he didn’t leave you alone, he cuddled you until he fell asleep.

You often stayed up thinking about ways to get out, to hurt him just like you always did one thousand times in the day, and you didn’t dare to move a muscle because it would wake him up.

It always woke him up.

Maybe you’d get lucky and he’d die in his sleep. If only.

Weeks went past and finally you managed Kento to allow you out to look for somewhere bigger to live. Instead of trying to stop it, you figured if you appeared eager, there might have been some leeway. And you were right on the money.

The first time you left the apartment in months, almost a year and Kento was still sceptical. You noticed a mile away so many gaps to leave the first time, fighting the urge to take the bait, a wide open door or Kento would simply leave the room.

So fucking hard not to scream at the realtor that you were kidnapped and this horrifying man who claimed to be your husband was mad, insane and deranged with his fucked up ideals on love.

But you didn’t. You bided your time, though anxious due to the time limit you had. It was agony until one day you had your chance. An apartment on the main street of the city you pushed for, claiming it was ideal and close to schools for this imaginary baby. You wanted to vomit.

Kento was distracted. In the next room talking away to the realtor, but on this day, there was another one. A team of two because the other couple coming to view the apartment didn’t show.

“The open planned kitchen is very in right now.” They waffled on and all you could do was dart your eyes back and forth to the other room, the pit of your stomach flipping with growing adrenaline.

With your heart thumping in your throat, it was time. “If you don’t mind, I left something in the car, I’m going to head down quickly. If my husband asks where I am, just tell him I won’t be long.”

She nodded and continued her walk around the kitchen with a clipboard behind her back in her hands. You practically ran to the door and opened it faster than you should have, but took a moment to leave it ajar without a noise.

 One step, two steps, then you ran, sprinting down the hall to the elevator with an overwhelming sense of Déjà vu only this time the elevator doors opened immediately. You back hit the wall flush and whilst the doors closed, your eyes trained on that apartment door.

He’s coming out, he will and he’ll lock me up. He’s going to know. 

He didn’t emerge, there was no movement at all by that door, not even a dramatic scene where the last thing you saw was him running towards you. Nothing. You wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but you just couldn’t.

Kento Nanami was an intelligent man and he would figure it out eventually. If not already.

You weren’t sure where you would go with no money or phone, but anywhere was better than here. The elevator doors opened and you held a breath just waiting for him to be there and he wasn’t. 

Run. Fucking run. 

Out of the lobby and into the apartment complex car park, past Kento’s car and out back into the world. The plan. That was the plan. You made sure to look behind you every so often, you would see him before he saw you and then you could hide.

“Woah, easy there.” You weren’t looking and bumped into someone.

“G-gojo…” Another fucking test. It was a test, a stupid test.

Another fucking test! You were right not to trust Gojo. Before you could pull away he took you by the shoulders. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What are you doing here; let me go I need to leave-”

“What happened?” His voice dropped, more commanding than you had ever heard.

“No let me go- let me go I can’t go back there; please don’t do this! What are you even doing here; he told you to come didn’t he?!” He was built like a bulldozer, no matter how much you fought he didn’t move.

“Woah, woah listen to me. He asked me here because we were going out for dinner after.” It didn’t calm you, but you listened. Stupidly. “What happened- I was right… wasn’t I?”

He had a look of concern, not something like he was in on it, but that still didn’t mean you were going to trust him. “He took me, he took me away from everyone. I'm not his girlfriend and I just want to get home. He’s crazy!”

“Shh. Stop shouting or you’ll draw attention.” And under his breath he muttered. “I fucking knew something was up with him… Not again.” 

Not… again? Who else had he done this to?

“Here, take my keys and get in the car. Lock the doors. I’ll sort this out.” As stated he handed you the keys and made his way towards the apartment complex without another word.

You contemplated running, taking his keys so he couldn’t follow you. Deciding against that, you climbed in the car and locked the doors, Kento certainly wouldn’t be able to get to you now and Gojo was without a car.

The downside was you couldn’t drive. And stealing a car would land you in jail… Jail was an option, Kento certainly couldn’t get you there. You shoved the car keys in your hand and let the keys poke out between your fingers while they shook in anticipation.

Gojo being on your side didn’t sit right.

Kento will come out at any moment. Gojo will be too with a smile on his face because it's all a ruse, a joke. They’ll take me back to that stupid apartment and never let me out. 

But that didn’t happen either, Kento hadn’t even come out of the complex after Gojo went in. In fact the only thing that changed in that parking lot in what was a lifetime to you was blue flashing lights.

A knock on the glass that made you yelp.

“Can you open up?” Gojo, looking worse for wear and a bloodied lip.

You didn’t want to, you didn’t. “No… no because you’ll send me back I know it!”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. Look…” You followed his hand, pointing away from him. "He can't hurt you anymore; he can't hurt anyone."

Kento came out, in handcuffs. Escorted by three police officers.

“Just… open the door, alright? The police, they’ll want a statement.” 

Nothing could happen if the police were just there and Gojo did look concerned. They must have fought up there in the apartment, and the realtors probably witnessed everything.

Were you safe now? You opened the door and Gojo held out a hand to help you up and you took it. Kento didn’t notice you, his head was down and he, from what you could see, looked even worse than Gojo.

“I won’t hurt you. Please don’t think I’m not on your side.”

So that was it? It was all over just like that and it didn’t seem like the win you thought it was. You weren’t going to be free of him completely, not for a while although Kento couldn’t be anywhere near you in a locked up cell.

That was good enough for now.

Kento Nanami couldn’t keep you anymore. But he'd still always be sitting in the back of your mind.

He was a demon in living form.

Tag - @yourhornysister

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[reveryfics]

Look At Me

Dr. Phosphorus x Male Reader

Summary: You knew Alex before his ultimate demise, choosing to move forward instead of dwell on what happened to him. Alex however, never forgot you.

A/N: Just finished watching Creature Commandos, and it revived my obsession with DC and Dr. Phosphorus (Thank you Alan Tudyk) If this ends up doing well, I'll probably start writing some DC fics and taking requests for 'em.

A sigh escaped your lips, a weary sound that echoed the exhaustion clinging to your bones. You rubbed at your temples, the persistent throbbing a dull counterpoint to the frantic beat of your heart. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to block out the world, the relentless images that flickered behind your eyelids. You slipped your glasses from your face, the cool metal a small comfort against your overheated skin, and leaned back against the worn leather of your office chair. The harsh glow of the television screen painted the workspace in a sterile light, the same news report looping endlessly, a broken record of Gotham’s latest tragedies. Three weeks. Three agonizing weeks of the same story, the same faces, the same gnawing fear. Gotham, when was it ever not in chaos? It felt like a city perpetually teetering on the edge of some cataclysmic event. And now, this. Dr. Alexander James Sartorius, vanished without a trace. And then, the brutal, senseless murder of a crime boss, his wife, his children… the news cycle churned with death and despair, a constant reminder of the fragility of life.

Each time you heard Alex’s name, a fresh wave of grief washed over you, followed by a crushing sense of guilt. You’d worked with him, believed in his research, clung to the hope that his experiment would actually work. But it was his reckless decision, his desperate acceptance of funding from a known criminal, that had sealed his fate, or so you’d convinced yourself. Even though a small, stubborn voice whispered that something wasn’t right, that the story they were telling was incomplete. A low groan rumbled in your chest. You pushed yourself up from the chair, your muscles stiff and protesting. Your coat hung on a nearby hook, a silent promise of escape. You flicked off the lights, plunging the room into darkness, and silenced the television’s incessant drone. The quiet was a welcome relief.

As you drove home, a strange, unsettling green glow emanated from your living room window, casting an eerie light onto the quiet street. A cold dread coiled in your stomach, a primal instinct screaming at you to turn the car around, to flee from whatever – or whoever – was waiting for you in the shadows. You knew, deep down, that this wasn't good. This wasn't right. But you couldn’t run. You had to know.

Parking the car, you took a shaky breath, the cool night air doing little to calm your racing pulse. Each step towards the front door felt like a monumental effort. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by the first fat drops of rain, splattering against the pavement. Your mind raced, conjuring up a thousand terrifying scenarios. It’s just your imagination, you told yourself, a desperate attempt at self-preservation. You’re tired. That’s all.

“Frankie,” you called out, your voice trembling slightly as you stepped inside. “I’m home.” A low purr greeted you, a familiar comfort in the face of the unknown. The dim light revealed your cat, her plump figure a welcome sight as she rolled playfully on the floor. “Good girl,” you murmured, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of unease.

Moving through the house, you noticed an old photo frame lying face down on the floor. You didn’t remember knocking it over, but then again, your memory had been hazy lately, consumed by thoughts of Alex. You tried not to dwell on him, tried to convince yourself that he was nothing more than a colleague, a lab partner. But the lie felt hollow. You picked up the frame, your heart clenching at the sight of the picture. “Oh, Alex,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Why couldn’t you just listen?” You set the frame back down, a single tear tracing a path down your cheek. Turning towards your bedroom, you began to undress, the weight of the day pressing down on you.

Unbeknownst to you, you were being watched. The strange green glow you’d seen from the window was not a figment of your imagination. It was real, and it was moving, stalking you through the quiet house. Its eyes, or what was to be perceived as eyes, burned into your naked form as you stepped into the shower, seeking the warmth and comfort of the water.

The figure lingered in the doorway, the eerie green light casting long, distorted shadows across the bathroom. A low groan, a sound that seemed to emanate from the very depths of its being, filled the air. The heels of its shoes clicked against the tile floor, each step deliberate, until it stood just outside the shower curtain.

With a sudden, violent rip, the curtain was torn aside, a blast of icy air chilling your skin. A hand, hot and distorted, clamped over your mouth, and a searing heat enveloped your body as you were pulled back, pressed against an unfamiliar surface.

You were spun around, your eyes widening in terror as you stared at your reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. The glow, the unsettling green light, emanated from the creature holding you captive. It was a skeletal figure, irradiated, its form both grotesque and strangely familiar. You struggled against its grip, your heart pounding in your chest, but your struggles ceased abruptly when it spoke your name.

Alex. That voice, raspy and distorted, but undeniably his, echoed in your mind. You must be dreaming, you thought frantically. This couldn’t be real. Alex was gone. He was missing, or dead. You had to accept that.

“Look at me!” he growled, his voice laced with pain. He seemed almost desperate, clinging to you as if afraid you’d disappear. You had squeezed your eyes shut, trying to retreat into the safety of unconsciousness, but his words pierced through your fear. “Look. At. Me.” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Your eyelids fluttered open, tears streaming down your face as you met your own terrified gaze in the mirror. Or was it your gaze? Behind you, reflected in the glass, was Alex. Or what was left of him.

“Alex?” you whispered, the sound muffled by the lingering pressure on your jaw.

He released his hold on your mouth, pushing you forward slightly so that you were inches from his…his new form. “In the flesh, baby,” he chuckled, but the sound was hollow, a distorted echo of the laughter you once knew.

You turned away, reaching for a towel, desperate to avoid his gaze. His hand shot out, his grip surprisingly strong, and forced your face back towards him. “Come on,” he rasped. “I ain't that hideous, am I?”

You shook your head, the burning sensation returning, spreading through your veins like wildfire. “You’re dead,” you whispered, the words barely audible. “You can’t be here.”

You sat on the sofa, Frankie curled in your lap, offering a small measure of comfort. You stared at Alex, at the…thing he had become. Everything he’d told you, the horrifying truth of what had happened, was almost too much to bear.

“You forgot me?” His voice cracked, a sound that seemed to grate against bone. He looked…hurt. But it was difficult to decipher emotions in that skeletal face.

“No, I…I tried to move on,” you admitted, the words heavy with guilt. “All I could do was think about you, about what happened…and eventually, I had to let go.” The words tasted like ash in your mouth. You hesitated, knowing that you hadn’t truly let go. There were reminders of Alex everywhere you looked, every corner of your life haunted by his memory.

“Then what is it?” he hissed, his voice laced with anger and something else…something that sounded like despair. “Why can’t you look at me?”

You finally lifted your gaze, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body shaking with sobs. “I loved you!” you cried, the raw emotion tearing through you. “I loved you, and now…now you’re a fucking walking irradiated skeleton who’s lost his fucking mind!” It was Alex, you knew it in your heart. But he was also…something else. Something changed, twisted by whatever had happened to him.

A puff of air escaped his mouth, a silent expression of pain. “You loved me?” he questioned, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

You hiccuped, focusing on stroking Frankie’s fur, finding solace in the familiar touch. “Still do,” you murmured, the words barely a whisper.

Alex rose from his chair and knelt before you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. The burning sensation returned, but this time, you didn’t flinch. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “But look at me. I’m a monster. There’s nothing to love.”

You sighed, ignoring the heat radiating from his touch. “Maybe,” you said softly, your voice thick with tears. “But even monsters deserve love.”

[waywardxrhea]

deserving - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

In your distraction after a rough day you end up the victim of a band of muggers.

word count: ~1.5k

content: angst, mugging, anxiety, panic attack, language, canon typical violence, fluff.

dividers by: @firefly-graphics (i seriously only ever use the graphics from this account and I am so grateful for them! <3)

As you walked back to your apartment complex in the near darkness of Hell’s Kitchen, your mind was anywhere else than where it should have been. Where it should have been as you carried a mid-sized box in your arms, which caused you to leave your purse freely dangling at your side, was on your surroundings. Hell’s Kitchen, even with Daredevil running around at night, was still dangerous, and not everyone knew to fear the Devil who lurked in the shadows. 

You came to regret your stupid choices of not putting your purse on top of your personal effects in the box and to make this trip in the near darkness when all of a sudden there was an arm pulling you into a chokehold from behind. The man’s gruff voice began demanding your purse and anything of value you held in the box while another man knocked the box from your arms before beginning to yank on the strap of your purse. Rather than using any form of self defense you knew though, you just froze in place as you began to get less and less oxygen to your brain as your attacker choked you out while his buddies ransacked the box that had crashed to the ground. 

“She doesn’t have shit in here!” one of the men groaned in dismay. You heard the sound of glass breaking as he added, “Stupid picture of her and her boyfriend, a plant, a couple of calendars!”

“Oh you just got fired didn’t you, doll?” the one choking you sneered in your ear as he added just a bit more pressure while he laughed.

“Ooh this is promising, she’s got a laptop charger! Look for the computer!” said a different voice from near the box. 

Suddenly though, air finally flooded your lungs and you dropped to your knees as your attacker was pulled away from you. You couldn’t even process what was happening around you as panic began to overtake your body. As your breathing became erratic and your heart pounded in your ears, you curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and tucking your head in to make yourself as small as possible. A sense of doom creeped up your spine and into your brain as thought after brutal thought reminded you of every single terrible thing you had ever done or said or thought. Everything was free game to the monster running rampant through your memory banks, and he gladly reminded you of how badly you messed up. All the time. It seemed to be your defining characteristic. Nothing you ever did seemed to-

“Shh, shh, sweetheart I’m right here,” came a gravelly voice close to your ear as you were suddenly aware of a presence right beside you. The figure pulled you in close to his chest as he whispered, “I’ve got you. They’re gone.”

Your breathing came in sharp between short sentences as you gasped out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t see them coming! I wasn’t paying attention! I’m sorry! I can’t do anything right! I’m sorry…”

“Shh, sweetheart, you don’t have anything to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong,” said the voice. 

Tentatively, you pulled your face out from its place in your folded up legs and looked around, noticing your ransacked box, your purse lying beside it, your intact laptop, the leaves of your spider plant, and the broken framed picture of you and Matt at Foggy and Marci’s wedding. Bringing your senses closer to your body you felt the cold ground beneath you, the sharp poke of some rocks in your bottom, comforting arms wrapped around you, and beside you the strange armor that Matt wore at night when he went out to fight crime in the streets of the Kitchen. You heard the distant sound of cars driving, Matt’s voice returning back to normal from the Devil’s, and his steady heartbeat as you pulled yourself closer into his embrace. You smelled sharp metallic blood in the air, but Matt’s cologne from his day in court overtook the smell as you burrowed into his embrace. Finally, you tasted the salt of your tears in your mouth and you finally felt like you could breathe normally as you came down from your panic attack in Matt’s arms. 

“There you are,” Matt whispered before kissing the top of your head. “There’s my sweet girl. You did great coming back from that.” You didn’t deserve his sweet words or his encouragement, but you were too weak to argue. How pathetic… Where was your ability to hold your tongue earlier? “Let’s get you home,” he said after a few more moments, getting up and locating all of your things to get packed into your box before helping you back onto shaky legs. 

Matt got you back into your shared apartment and went about the formality of leaving the complex, only to come back through his usual route via the roof access mere minutes later. When he got back, you feigned being fine and encouraged him to get out of his suit as you busied yourself with making the both of you hot chocolate. After he was out of his suit and had quickly wiped the sweat away from his body, Matt was behind you again, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close. This show of tenderness only broke you down once more and your tears began to fall again no matter how much you willed them to stop. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart, let it out,” Matt told you, turning you around to face him so he could hold your head close to his chest. “Whenever you’re ready we can talk about it,” he assured you as he slowly guided the both of you toward the bedroom so he could hold you more easily. The gesture only broke you more and you fought a battle in your head between wanting to push him away because you didn’t deserve him and pulling him closer because you knew Matt was the only thing holding your broken pieces together. Eventually the latter won out and you clung to him with everything your weak body had as you continued to cry into his chest. 

After a few minutes you managed to regain a semblance of your voice and you choked out, “I’m sorry…”

“For what, sweetheart?” Matt asked, the tenor of his voice and the rumble of his chest beneath you managing to calm you down just that much more. In response, you began to feel some of the tension in your muscles release. 

“I messed up… Big time…” you whispered, your voice breaking again as you remembered what happened at work that day. “I was having a rough morning. Got in late. Spilled my coffee. Didn’t get to eat breakfast. So when I was called to my boss’s office I snapped at him and he…he fired me on the spot. Cited insubordination. Told me to collect my things after business hours. I’m so, so sorry Matt…”

You could feel Matt’s muscles tense and could practically sense the Devil beginning to itch to be let out onto someone for hurting you. But then the tension eased as he kissed the top of your head before he said, “He’s an asshole who didn’t truly know who he had working for him. I’ll help you find somewhere else to work, one that doesn’t have sleazebags just wanting to line their pockets in charge.”

“You…you aren’t mad?” you asked timidly, your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“B-because I lost my job… One income is hard to live on in this city, and the firm’s been taking on more pro bono work lately, and-”

“Sweetheart, I’m not mad. I promise,” Matt reassured you. “I hated that you had to work for that company and I’m actually happy that you’re out now. They didn’t deserve your hard work and dedication. You’ll find somewhere that will. Somewhere that understands that people have bad days and they don’t deserve to be fired over it. Somewhere that cares about you and what you have to say.”

“So like you in business form,” you said, a ghost of a smile making its way onto your lips. 

“Like me in business form,” Matt confirmed with a quiet chuckle. 

You were quiet for a moment before telling him, “Thank you for saving me out there by the way… I… The day got to me and I just froze. I’m-”

Before you could get the rest of your next apology out, Matt was tilting your chin up and placing a gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, he told you, “I would go to the ends of the earth to protect you. No matter how bad of a day you’re having. I will always be here for you.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he told you fondly which made tears start welling up in your eyes once more, but this time they were tears of happiness. How you ever got lucky enough to have Matt in your life was a mystery you would never figure out, but in moments like these you were truly grateful for his kindness and the safety he provided you - not only as Daredevil, but as the man in your arms cuddling you until your mind came back to the reality that everything would be okay eventually and that you were deserving of him and the kindness he gave you.  

a/n: so this was inspired by a dream i had a few months ago wherein i too was having a panic attack and our sweet Matty came to my rescue combined with having an absolutely terrible mental health evening last night (whoops). whatever the circumstances i am just grateful to have the ability to express myself via my writing and i hope others can find some solace in my writing!

xo, brooke <3

general taglist: @reidmarieprentiss

[sunrisecaminus]

*stares at you with my big ol’ tired autistic eyes*

Dear caminus could you grace us with a part two of the starscream and pilot reader where starscream is fighting the urge to become closer to reader out of fascination for finding someone who has similar sufferings like him, while also deny the wanting to be pampered like the reader’s fighter jet, but would he ever admit that?, no, but will he sulk and act pissy and a prick about it for not realizing it ourselves earlier? Absolutely

I love the concept of starscream fighting his huge ego as it gets in the way of of what he wants especially how he wants to be comforted after almost being dismantled by Megatron, while reader who had the worst day at work since their superior put then in a lower rank

“Which one of us is supposed to comfort the other?!”

-a very confused reader exclaimed as they were welding the energon seeping wounds of starscream

Message - This was a really cute fic so of course I grace you with a part two!

Starscream x Pilot Reader Part Two

Here is part one to catch up.

Summary - Starscream doesn't understand what he is feeling and has to learn. He is broken, and his human tries to help put him back together.

Warnings - Hints of abuse

One of the worse things he as ever done to himself was bring you back on the ship. You have been nothing, but kind and useful to the cause…making him wish he had just left you in those woods. The more you give the Decepticons…the more they will want from you. Megatron would drain you of your morality if he had to, not giving you any room to breath. Starscream use to be someone, he use to have power. Yes he is the second in command of an army, but he use to have real power and respect to his name. Now, because of Megatron, he is a clown. Even soldiers tease him like Starscream can't just blast them. He is nothing, but a joke here. He doesn't want this title to end up be yours.

He just was coming back from a mission, landing on the ship and grabbed his reports for the day. Wondering what might've happened when he was gone, Starscream walks through the halls to find you and Knockout together. You were helping him figure something out about plane wings and finding the right measurements on a blueprint. He didn't really care, all Starscream wanted to do now was chill out. "My beautiful self, has arrived!" He smiles and puts down some data pads. You looked over with a smile and wave the jet over, in your other hand was some human drink in a glass. "Hey bud! Just trying out some new ideas. How did it go?" Knockout rolled his eyes as you motion Starscream over. The red car could never understand how a human could like someone as egotistical as Starscream, and even Knockout knows his limits on when to stop being cocky. Starscream walks over, looking over the work you have been doing and narrows his eyes. "What is this?" He observes that the blueprint states that the plane in the picture is an F15 model, but the wings and bottom parts look a lot different then a normal model. You chuckle and take a sip of your cup, pointing out the features while you spoke. "Look, I was just thinking about how cool you guys are. Knockout told me about how you can upgrade and redesign frames so I got to sketch a cool idea. Your wings and lower legs are already nice, but something tells me you are in dire need of something fun! I made the wings a bit sharper so when you go low to the ground, if you hit any trees they won't slow you down and instead be sliced. Than I thought of-" You kept talking and rambling about your nerdy calculations and how pretty Starscream looked. The mech just stared at you with a bit of surprise.

Why were you so, caring. You took the entire day to sketch out good upgrades for him, and he hasn't even done anything to deserve it. Starscream has been nothing, but a tease. He laughs when something bad happens to you, he gets excited when you have something else to do and not follow him around, and he gets PISSED EVERYTIME YOU COMPLIMENT HIM! Starscream usually does like compliments, he doesn't get them often…but why does he feel the need to yell and curse at you every time you praise him for doing good on missions and coming back safe. His mind was clouded by not just annoyance, but fear of his own emotions. Starscream has never been so angry of someone other than Shockwave, and you haven't done anything to deserve such violence. He holds it in, all of it. Starscream knows you were just some human who has no idea what this war made him into, but Primus does he want to just grab you and shake all the nice out of you.

You were done talking and was waiting for his response. Knockout could tell Starscream was processing things and leans back into his chair. Starscream hearing the quiet squeaking noises of the furniture made him snap out of it in time and smirks. "Well this design could do me ~wonders~. The edges would look lovely on me. I didn't know a pet could be so useful." The laugh you gave him was…sincere. Your small e/c (eye color) eyes look up at his optics. "Thanks, well still needs a bit of tweaks here and there, but Knockout said it would be physically possible to make this. Of course you don't have to; It has just been a while since I was able to draw my ideas. My commander never really lets us do anything outside our rank, so it's nice to finally be able to put this on paper." Starscream's wing twitches a bit and he narrows his eyes. Oh ho ho! Don't you look familiar to him right now.

…

It has been a few hours after seeing Knockout, and it was about one in the morning. You haven't been able to sleep yet, knowing that Starscream wasn't in his birth room for some reason. Since you were sleeping in a small room attached to his birth room, you usually could hear when he walked in to go to bed. Grabbing a big baggy shirt to cover your body, you grab a flashlight before heading out to find him. After sometime of looking around, you found him up on top of the ship, leaning on some railing and looking out into the cloudy night sky.

Starscream was having some bad visions right now and his wings were drooped to the floor. He couldn't stop thinking about the times that Megatron first started his rain of terror, something he promised to never forget if he thought Megatron could be a better person. He clenched his wrist with his servo and watched the moonless sky, showing nothing but a black void. "Can't sleep?" Your voice made his wings perk right back up as he turned around to see your tiny body. He remembered getting you that giant shirt, it was the first time he learned that all humans had different size clothes. It was funny how you kept it as pjs though. it was basically a small dress on you. Starscream scoffs and looked back where he was originally looking. "Not really…" His free servo clawed the metal railing and scowled without you knowing. Dammit, why did you have to be here at such a horrible time? You walked up to his side and looked up at where he was looking. "Want to talk about it?" He takes a moment to think about what to say and looked at you finally. "Well, a friend of mind seems to be having trouble with someone. He is from a different ship and called me about it. Some relationship stuff, I don't think you want to hear about it." Starscream looked down at his wrists and back at you. Humming in understanding, you climb up on an electric box so Starscream didn't have to look down at the floor to look at you. Sitting on the box made your body come up to Starscream's lower chassis. "I have time, tell me."

He takes a moment to think what to say next and opens his mouth. "Well, he is getting pretty annoyed by a friend he made. Anytime his friend is really nice to him, he gets angry about it. My friend is not really use to compliments and stuff…so I think maybe he regrets being buddies in the first place." You pay attention to every word he says and looks away. "Well, your friend seems to have had a bad past of negligence. If they get so irritated of this, it is probably because they aren't use to people being gentle with them. I think he needs to look into himself and accept his past and try to find people who can support him." Everything that you just said made Starscream think deeply. He didn't like remembering the past, it would make him feel the pain. "Well, what if he can't accept it?" You sit cress cross and fold your arms. "Well than the only thing he will really be use to is the past terrors. People can get use to their terrible things and only really know how to function in that type of environment. The way he is going, seems like he might end up in another one of those horrible situations. It isn't rare for people, most don't like to accept that this is how they came to be in the present, they just have to realize that they aren't alone and try to get help. Humans have these things too."

Starscream's wings droop again. He never wanted to be in Megatron's claws again…he doesn't even know how to respond to that. The jet lets out a shaky sigh and keeps asking questions. "Well, the mech doesn't really even understand why he feels the way he feels towards them specifically. They are kind of a mean aft to their friend…but doesn't seem to know why." He seems you now giving a warm smile, which made Starscream raise a confused eyebrow. "Well lets see, a mech who hates that the person is nice to them and wants to make them hate him, so he tries his best to be an asshole and doesn't want them to get close as a relationship. Seems to me your friend really cares about the friend and really wants to be there for them, but is afraid of hurting them so he tries to push them away before they can feel any sort of likeness. It's basically trying to save them from being hurt in the future, so he hurts them now so it could never go that far." Starscream takes this opportunity to look back at his servos, feeling himself rub against his own digits to maybe comfort himself in such a deep conversation. He has never really self-reflected before…it was making him feel guilty and stupid. Starscream didn't think of it like that, but…it does sound like something that is going on.

A few more minutes go by in silence, peaceful silence. He was thinking of what to say, but nothing could come out. He feels a pat on his pedes and realize that you climbed down the electric box to pat him for support. "I'm going back to bed, it's almost 2. We should get some rest for the morning." You slide your hand off him and walk out to go back inside the ship. You don't see this, but Starscream watched you leaving. He had a deep feeling in his chassis; Something warm, something fuzzy. He put a servo on his cheek and realized he was blushing a bit. He growls in annoyance and whisp back to the sky, realizing the clouds have disappeared and he could finally see the starts brightly glistening at him. "…ugh…pathetic."

[yanderecrazysie]

The story that got me invested in your account the most was your famous Betray threeshot. Can we get like a sideshot of Oikawa grieving reader's love for him? Maybe he came across an old photo of them together and noticed her soft and adoring expression while she's looking at him. And in a sudden flash of self reflection he realized

She's never going to look at him with those same eyes ever again.

Yes, she's living with him being a mother to his son, but he's not their son and he never will be. Then it leads to self loathing being so angry at himself for destroying what they had that he punched his own face in the picture frame. Reader being concerned with the sudden noise she heard came in to check out what's going on, only to be told to not look at him. Knowing that he'd be greeted with the same blank cold eyes she gives to strangers. Calming down a bit he then weakly requested for her to look at him as if she loves him...

just like all those years ago

Title: Betray (Sideshot)

Pairings: Yandere! Oikawa Tooru  x F! Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: This is short since it’s only a sideshot. I don’t usually add on to three-shots, but this request hypnotized me XD

Oikawa was dusting when he found it. A picture in a faded, worn out frame. He was about to move on…

But then he saw you.

The picture had been taken years ago, before he kidnapped you, before you broke up with him. In the photo, you were looking at him- not the camera. Just him. 

The look on your face stole the breath from his chest. You looked so adoring and loving, like he was the only thing that mattered to you.

His fingers tightened around the frame. Suddenly, the weight of what he’d done was pressing down on his shoulders.

You would never look at him like that ever again.

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry as a desert. You didn’t love him. Not anymore.

It was obvious from the careful, distant way you moved around him that he’d never feel that warm tenderness anymore.

With a noise like an angry bull, he swung his fist forward. CRACK. The glass frame shattered. He didn’t even feel the pain of the little glass shards imbedding his skin. Blood dripped down his fingers.

“Oikawa?”

Your voice. Your voice!

His head snapped up to look at you at the bottom of the stairs. Your eyes flickered to the broken glass on the floor, to his bloody hand, then to the floor below her, avoiding eye contact. There was concern in your gaze but not love. It was never love. He couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Just…” Oikawa’s voice floated towards you, “Just look at me like you used to. Just once… Please…”

But he already knew the answer.

You never would.

Not ever again.

[dvrktvnnel]

whiskey lullaby- j.y.

genre — cowboy/sheriff

pairing — sheriff Yunho x reader

word count — 1.6k

warnings — blood, alcohol/drinking, classic cowboy stuff not too bad really

summary — whiskey lullaby inspired fic </3

Its been months now. You had broken up with Yunho, and he still didn’t understand why. No, he knew why. You were the best thing to ever happen to him, and he took you for granted. He’d leave for days and always expected you to be waiting for him.

You were there for him when he needed you, but he was never there when you needed him.

He downed another glass of whiskey. He’d lost count of how many he had, but he still remembered how many times he left you.

A big hand rested on his shoulder and the deep voice of his lifelong friend spoke softly, but he didn’t register a word. He just threw another bill on the table for another glass.

The bartender looked concerned, and he busied himself with another customer instead. Mingis muffled voice echoed again, but Yunho didn’t listen. He felt his friend lift him off the barstool and he blacked out.

He woke up in his bed the next morning, his boots still on. He groaned and rubbed his race, a searing headache throbbing intensely. He sat up too quickly and rushed to the bathroom to get sick.

He washed his hands and splashed water on his face before staring at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved in weeks and he reeked of alcohol. He stumbled back to his room and flopped onto the bed.

His gaze fell on the broken frame that held your picture, and he couldn’t stop himself from sobbing. He cried until his throat hurt, until his nose burned. He cried so hard It felt like his lungs collapsed.

His stomach was sore from drinking himself sick then crying until he fell asleep over and over again. The days became a blur of pain. His self neglect only made him feel worse.

A knock on the front door woke him back up. His eyes were still puffy and red, his lips swollen and his nose plugged. He pushed himself to answer the door.

It was Mingi again. He didn’t say anything, the two old friends staring at each other.

“You can’t just fade away,” Mingi finally said. “You have to keep going.”

Yunho didnt respond. He’s heard this shit from everyone in town. he didn’t need to hear it again. couldn’t they see that he was nothing without you in his life?

“I’m fine,” he said.

“No, youre not. that’s why I’m taking you with me.”

“What?”

Mingi didnt give Yunho time to protest, shoving his hat into his hands and stomping down the stairs.

Yunho didnt want to follow him, but he did. Mingi already had both horses saddled and ready. He stared at the man atop his red steed, waiting for his friend to join him.

“Get on,” Mingi said.

Yunho numbly grabbed the reins and pulled himself up. He swayed for a moment, but years of riding saved him from falling off. A cowboy never forgets how to ride a horse, and the memories of teaching you how to ride flooded his mind.

Mingi kicked his foot and lead the way, Yunho’s mare following him without command.

“Even your horse knows you need this.”

Mingi smiled in hopes of cheering him up, but it was pointless. Yunho felt as if hed never smile again without you, so whats the point?

The two rode on, to where Yunho had no idea. Mingi made several jokes, tried to start a conversation, anything to get his friend to say something, but Yunho only gave him grunts and head nods. They rode through the town and past the gates. The dry desert heat was harsh, but it was nothing compared to life without you.

They rode for a few hours until the sun started to set, finally Yunho spoke up.

“Where are taking me?” he asked.

Mingi’s body rocked with the beat of his horse’s steps, keeping his narrow eyes on the invisible path in front of them. He didnt answer.

Yunho gave his horse a small kick, speeding up to stop in front of Mingi.

“It’s getting dark, where are you taking me?” he asked again.

“Away from her before you kill yourself,” Mingi answered.

Yunho furrowed his brows and shook his head. How could he do this? Didnt mingi have any idea how much he still needed you?

“No, no I cant leave her.”

He kicked his horse and rode back to the town, Mingi spinning around and gaining on him quickly. It only took half the time to get back, and once the soft glow of the town was in sight Mingi pulled in front of Yunho’s horse.

Before Yunho could protest, Mingi jumped down and pulled yunho onto the ground. He fell with a thud as dust clouded around him.

“I’m not going to watch you do this to yourself,” Mingi said stubbornly.

“Will you let me be?” Yunho said, dusting himself off.

“No! Im not going to just stand idly by while you do this to yourself!”

“It’s not your place to interfere!”

“I dont give a damn, you’re my partner, my brother. Whether you like it or not im going to keep pestering you until you get your shit together.”

Yunho didnt have the time to argue before the gunshot echoed through the air.

yn!

Yunho and Mingi jumped back on their horses, galloping towards the town. The townspeople were in a panic. A group of burly men atop sleek black horses were making a mess of the town, firing their guns and busting through the shops’ wooden doors.

Yunho frantically searched you amidst the chaos, but he couldnt see you. Maybe you were inside, and safe. He redirected his focus on the criminals, reaching for his gun. But it wasn’t there, he must have left it home.

Mingi stayed close, skillfully shooting at the riders. With each man that fell, the horse would go wild. These were wild horses, barely tamed and dangerous.

“Mingi! Get the horses out of here!” Yunho shouted over the firing shots.

Mingi nodded and fired one last time before wrangling up the wild horses. In that split second, a man already shot off his horse aimed his gun at Mingi, shooting him off his own horse.

“Mingi!” Yunho shouted, rearing his horse around.

Before he could reach him, an ear piercing scream made his blood run cold. It was you, and you were in danger.

“Go, I got Mingi!” said a voice from behind.

Hongjoong ran to Mingi with San right behind him. Yunho tipped his hat and rode towards your cry. He jumped off and busted through the door. This was his house.

A rukus upstairs told him where you were. He climbed the stairs two sometimes three steps a time. The door was hanging off its hinges, you were cornered by a man with a bloody shoulder.

“Yunho no!” you shrieked.

But it was too late, Yunho barged in and a second man hit him behind his head with his gun, knocking him out.

When he came to, he was tied up in the corner with a gag in his mouth. Everything was blurry for a minute, he could taste blood in his mouth and the sweat burned his wounds. You were unconscious next to him, he couldnt see your face but you didnt look injured.

He could see out the window, watching from above. The townspeople had retreated to vacant porches, watching with terror. The men who had been attacking were gathered and tied in the middle of the dirt road. The wild horses were rounded out of the town.

Yunho tried to avoid the bodies of his people on the ground for now. He had to get you out of here.

A sharp kick in his chest made him cough up blood, turning his attention to the two men in front of him. did The others not know these guys were still here?

“You should’ve minded your own business sheriff,” said one of the men. “You just had to come be a hero.”

The two men blocked Yunho’s view of the window, muttering their plan to escape.

“We just gotta stay up here till those bastards finish their little gathering. We can sneak out when it’s a little darker and quieter.”

“We’ll take the bitch with us, just shoot the sheriff.”

With a final burst of adrenaline, Yunho lunged towards the men. He knocked him with his shoulder through the window, the other man was quick with his gun and shot him in the back.

Yunho grunted and bit down on the gag, running to the second man and pinning him against the wall. His arms were still tied behind his back, but he used his bigger frame to keep the man from running away.

The man shot him again with the last bullet, the empty barrel clicking rapidly against his wound. Yunho pushed the man harder against the wall, and finally someone had come to help.

Hongjoong shot the man once and he went still, falling to the ground when Yunho backed off. Hongjoong caught Yunho when he swayed, and leaned him against the wall.

As soon as the gag was out of his mouth, Yunho gasped.

“yn, is she okay.”

Hongjoong went over to your still body, rolling you onto your back. Yunho watched with heavy deep breaths. Hongjoong placed his fingers against your neck and sighed.

“She’s breathing,” he said.

Yunho smiled and closed his eyes. You were safe, you would be okay.

i’m already almost done with part two i’ll post it soon🙏

taglist: @vampzity @scarfac3 @h4untedgrl @losrpark @dollywoo @jjongibears @velvetmoonlght

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Quiet Before the Storm

Sentinel Prime x Reader - Transformers One

A blue canvas from which white clouds had been painted was the artwork Sentinel admired. Laid upon his back, soft green grass cushioned him and faintly reminded him of the recharge slab he’d used back in Iacon. Softer, of course, but to think this softness naturally occurred throughout your whole planet? It almost made him chuckle thinking about it, knowing that if he’d learned of it in the past when he’d ruled Iacon, he’d likely have used Earth for whatever means possible to serve himself.

Thinking of it now left a sour taste atop his glossa, and he frowned momentarily as he shut his optics to rid himself of the mental images. It was a good thing Earth was so far away from Cybertron, and what more, that it hadn’t existed when he ruled. It was almost absurd to think this way, and he did laugh this time, the sound both humourless and full of mirth. Had anything gone differently, would he never have met you?

Opening his optics and looking to the side, he sees you fumbling with something in your hands. Flowers. White, orange, and yellow flowers. You were twisting them this way and that, trying to make a circle, though you were hunched over your work, and he had to reach over and tap your spine, reminding you to straighten up and not cause a flare-up.

You huffed at him.

He huffed back.

You shot him an unimpressed look.

He smiled back in reply.

“Weren’t you busy cloud gazing?” You ask, looking down at your work but you straighten up your spine and visibly appear less tense. “Tell me what you see.”

And Sentinel looks back up, shuffling to get more comfortable as he rests his servos atop his abdomen. Gazing at the clouds up above, he marvels at the sunlight peeking through, casting the white clouds in a golden light which makes them appear as though they come from another world. Remembering some of the stories he’d read in your books, he recalls pictures which sometimes accompanied them, and some reminded him of what he now saw.

Magical; fantastical, even.

“I see a castle.” He says, looking closer. “A figure upon a beast… Maybe a horse. They ride across the clouds with dazzling sunlight at their back.” He chuckles. “Perhaps they are an adventurer or a knight.” He muses, seeing the scene change and something akin to a ship appears, first earthly in appearance, then morphs into something otherworldly. Humongous and terrifying and so vivid he could almost believe it manifested before his optics to reach out for him and take him away.

He wouldn’t allow that to happen. Not unless he could take you with him.

“I think you’d fit perfectly as a knight.” You say, lifting your hands to admire your messy handiwork. Setting the flower crown atop your head, you turn and lean a hand upon the picnic blanket beneath you, looking down at him as he glances towards you. “You could be my knight in shining armour.” You grin, briefly looking him over. “Once you’ve gotten a fresh coat of paint and a better polish.”

“Not a king?” He asks, half-joking.

“I think the power would get to your helm.” You say and laugh as you lay down beside him, removing the flower crown and setting it atop your chest whilst you cloud gaze. “No, I see you as a knight. Fighting to redeem a past that haunts you, standing strong despite the burden on your shoulders, doing what you can to protect the princess who saved you from your own mind.”

“I take it that you are the princess?” He asks though he swallows thickly from your description of his supposed knightly self. He couldn’t see it, saw himself more as a broken-down fool, yet you could see and imagine him as something as noble as a brave knight, and it made his spark squeeze within his chassis.

“Of course, I am.” And you’re reaching out to take his servo within your smaller hand, laying them down to rest between you. Perhaps it was meant as comfort, or an absentminded action, but Sentinel’s frame is on fire and the clouds above begin to shift with the wind, turning into a scene where a golden ocean crashes upon a golden shore. Figures are running and flying, changing with the clouds and becoming intertwined, appearing joyful despite their simple structure. A wave crashes and he sees a swirling tunnel from which sunlight races through until it reaches him and kisses his frame, making it warmer as his vents begin to work to cool him down.

He sees you glancing at him from the corner of his optics, the corner of your mouth curling up before you look back at the clouds. Your hand is so soft, your fingers so delicate as they rest against his palm and the base of his digits. He curls them, carefully trapping you in his grip. You do not pull away.

The clouds change again, and Sentinel sees a mighty bed of which the sunlight is the blanket. It reminds him that the nightmares have begun to lessen, that the nights are easier to sleep through and that he no longer fears your absence, though he greatly misses it. He remembers the night before, standing in the doorway to the barn and looking towards your house, knowing which window was to your bedroom and longing to be in there with you. With your hand being so soft, he wonders whether the skin which isn’t subjected to hard work is even softer.

He's touched your hair once and that was akin to silk on Cybertron. He wants to touch it again. Would you allow him if he asked?

“The sky on Cybertron was nothing like this.” He said, speaking for just the sake of it. “It was beautiful, stunning during the night and the day, but nothing like this.” His digits curl a little further, tips touching your skin, stroking it. “Iacon City was built beneath the surface so few to no Cybertronians ever got to see it. I admit that I am grateful for having experienced it, but to also have a chance to see yours, too.”

“Perhaps we ought to do this more often.” Say you, thumb stroking against what you believed to be his knuckles. “Of course, easier said than done. The sky is rarely this clear in autumn. Winds will be rougher soon and the clouds will be mostly grey and heavy with rain.” You huff a breath, and a shiver passes through you. The air is no longer as warm as it was, and you shouldn’t stay out here for too long. “Perhaps we can do more of this in summer. By then most of the work on the farm should be done, so there shouldn’t be too much for us to do.”

“I’d like that.” Said he, smiling at you as he leaned up, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles, making you blush before you suddenly yelped in surprise as he picked you up bridal style. “Well then, shall your knight in shining armour bring you back to the farm? You’re shivering from the cold.”

“Don’t forget the blanket.” You say, laughing at the ridiculousness as he effortlessly places the tip of his pede beneath the blanket before kicking it up and turning around to make it drape across his wings. “You look like you’re wearing a cloak.” And he does. You’d called him a knight as a joke, but with the blanket and the unique way he was built, he truly seemed so knightly it could almost have made you swoon a little. Almost. “A blue and golden bird posing as a proud knight. Heh, sounds like a fairytale.” Leaning against him as he walks across the meadow towards your farm, you spot your home from behind the trees of your back garden; cosy and inviting. Perhaps you should bid him to come in and teach him how to work the oven and the kettle so he could be of use inside too.

He'd probably like that a lot, clingy as he can be sometimes.

“I suppose my life has become a fairytale.” Says he, fighting to calm his spark from spinning and pulsing wildly within his chassis as it feels so right and perfect to carry you in his arms. You’ve worked and continue to work hard for him, so it is only fair of him to return the favour whenever he can. Besides, he loves any excuse he can find to touch you. This was just the perfect one.

Previous / Next Music: Enya – Caribbean Blue (300% Slowed)

[suosgirl]

Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader | Ch. 1

Word Count: 2644

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), blood, broken bones, harassment, misunderstandings, violence, fighting, grief, loss of a loved one, swearing, ptsd – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Hi! Ah – my first work! Ever since watching and reading Wind Breaker, I can’t stop imagining the idea of them running to stop a fight – only to find out it’s a strong, tough girl who’s ready for all the smoke (incredibly self-indulgent, as you can see). I plan to create 4 parts to this, so this is currently in the works!

୨ৎ Keeping it Cute (& Dangerous) Masterlist

Were you … okay with getting beat up by this gang? You considered it — genuinely. Perhaps, to love is to feel pain? For every punch they get in, you could take that chance to stare into their eyes. Every throw could be interpreted as a passionate hug. Every kick an extreme game of footsie.

“Looks like even pretty girls like you need to be taught a lesson,” his gruff voice spits out. He does his best to look intimidating, but all it garners from you is a low chuckle and a roll of your eyes. You throw your hair in a bun – tight and secure, before gently removing your jewelry.

You can feel the worried eyes of onlookers staring straight at you as you drop your bag on the ground - the soft thud causing the tension in the air to thicken. Pushing the sleeves of your sweater up to your bicep, you assess his frame. He’s 5’5, which would be useful for him if he knew how to use that to his advantage – but you highly doubted that his mind was as calculating as yours.

Although he seemed to have a good idea of how to position himself for a fight, you could see the uneasiness behind his actions. He kept glancing down at his hands as if deciding whether or not they were placed correctly. His legs were subtly swaying as he tried to ground his weight. It was clear – he was an amateur.

“I’d really love to see you try,” you say, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face – if this wasn’t an invitation, you don’t know what is. 

And you were hoping that he would take you up on that offer.

You’d been trailing him since you caught him trying to take an up-skirt photo of you a couple of stores down the street. Idiot, you thought bitterly, the safety shorts underneath proved to have been a smart choice when you dressed for the day. But… the fact that you had to even prepare for situations like this by dressing “appropriately” made the annoyance you felt bloom into anger. 

When you noticed his actions, you immediately grabbed his wrist in a tight hold – your manicured nails digging into the soft skin. 

Although the store wasn’t packed, you didn’t want to bring attention to the situation. This wasn’t your first time experiencing a degenerate like this, and you weren’t sure if it would even garner a response from anyone around you.

You were used to dealing with this on your own. This time would be no different.

“I was just in here to buy some pens -you perv,” you muttered as your eyes flashed dangerously into his. You could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead and the slight quiver of his bottom lip.

Pathetic. Did he really think you wouldn’t notice his constant presence behind your back, or the fact that the brightness of his screen allowed for a clear view of the camera app he was on?

As a result of your grip, he had dropped his phone. You grabbed it before standing up, making sure to scan his camera roll for any other indecent pictures and permanently deleting them before shoving it back into his chest - a firm grip still holding him close to you. 

You pulled him even closer, forcing him to bend down a bit so that you could speak in his ear.

“Cut that shit out,” you said softly, but the warning was still there. The grip on his wrist was tightened even more - and you were sure that if you were to look down, you’d see small spots of red forming underneath your nails. 

Once released, he simply scoffed as if you had inconvenienced him, and stormed out of the store. 

You had thought that was the end of it and continued on with your shopping. But, as you made your way down the street, you saw him in another store doing the same thing to another unsuspecting victim. 

Sighing, you waited until he left the store to confront him - but he was fast and efficient as he weaved his way through the foot traffic on the street. 

Eventually, you were able to catch up to him - with a firm kick to the back of his knees.

That all leads to the present — you’re surprised by how quickly the once bustling street has cleared out. But, you notice warily that you’re not alone. The people of the town are watching you, and you’re not sure why.

You can faintly hear the whisper of someone on the phone, and you’re just able to make out “…come here now…” before the street falls silent. 

“I’d better get started before those Bofurin punks get over here,” the man sneers, and you cock your head to the side in confusion. 

You knew that moving to a new town would require some adjustment, but it was your first time hearing the name — Bofurin. Were they another gang? You’d heard about the rumors of the violence that occurred in the town of Makochi and their dislike for outsiders, so you were always careful to keep your head down and your responses to a minimum when you were outside of your apartment.

“Bo-who?” you try to ask, but the man has already started charging towards you, his right arm raised above his head and his hand in a tight fist.

You take in his fast approach and easily sidestep him. 

“Oh… you’ve never been in a fight, have you?” you taunt, faux concern on your face as he stumbles to a stop and whips back around to face you in confusion.

“Lucky break,” he huffs out, spitting on the ground next to him before raising his fists again.

You nod in agreement, though your eyes tell a different story. They’re narrowed and icy, observing every little move he makes. 

“You’re probably right… why don’t you try again?”

That gets a reaction out of him - he charges again, somehow even faster than before, but this time you race to meet him halfway. He goes to punch for your head, but you’re faster — immediately ducking under his arm and instead getting a good hold underneath his armpit and shoulder as you swing your body onto his back. You use the momentum of your run to raise your legs up and around his neck, crossing them at the ankles behind his head.

He stumbles under the sudden weight and desperately tries to grab at your back to get you off. 

Lucky break my ass, you think bitterly.

With your legs tight around his neck, you let go of the grip in your hands, bracing your core and swinging yourself around again before ultimately using that same momentum to flip him over and throw him to the ground on his back.

You’re not dumb — this definitely won’t be enough to render him unconscious. But, with so many witnesses, you’re afraid to do any serious damage. You didn’t want to get driven out of another town again because of your violent streak, and while it was simple to fight one-on-one with a weak opponent, you weren’t keen on pushing your luck with a whole gang. 

So, ultimately, you decide that this is a good enough scare for the poor guy — because you were capable of doing so much worse. You leisurely walk up to his gasping form, all the air in his lungs effectively pushed out when he landed flat on his back.

Looking down, you can see the fear in his eyes and the pain on his face. You note the way his body tenses and the way his fingers shake once you crouch down closer to him — as if he was willing for his body to move but simply didn’t have the strength to do so. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” you ask — but this time you drop the facade. No smiles, no taunting — your question is direct and your face is devoid of emotion. 

You were giving him an out — any fool could see that. But this guy just simply couldn’t take the blow to his ego, and you felt exasperated when he answered with, “What lesson, bitch?”

Figures.

You tutted your tongue as you stood up. Fine, to hell with the people and the town and the Bofurin gang. You could move towns — you’d done it once, you could do it again. But this guy — he needed a rude awakening and you were more than happy to serve it to him on a silver platter. It’s what your brother would’ve done anyway– that thought reassures you.

“I see,” you sneer, “In that case, I’d love to do a crash course with you, motherfuc-“

“Oi — what’s going on here?”

Damnit. You were really looking forward to beating this guy down — but now you have to admit defeat and retreat because no way are you taking on a whole gang by yourself. 

“Do you … need some help?” the voice presses on, and you feel your body heat up at the mere question.

No way – did this guy have backup? Perverts stick together, you suppose.

When you turn to face the unknown voice, you’re surprised it’s only a group of 5 guys. 

Right away, you note that this group couldn’t possibly be with the man currently gasping by your feet – if the way he’s trying to inch away is anything to go by.

Still … you warily take in their appearance and note the matching uniforms that they have on. Do gangs in Makochi wear uniforms? Is that, like — a thing? Also — why are they so … good looking?

For a split second, your brain fizzles out. You are, after all, just a girl.

Were you … okay with getting beat up by this gang? You considered it — genuinely. Perhaps, to love is to feel pain? For every punch they get in, you could take that chance to stare into their eyes. Every throw could be interpreted as a passionate hug. Every kick an extreme game of footsie.

You size them up again, this time not as threats but instead as potential love interests. 

They’re all fairly taller than you — perfect. 

Muscular and strong? Seemingly so.

Great personalities? Um.

You would have to put a pin on that one.

Your eyes are immediately drawn first to the one with pink hair and a brightly patterned shirt. The piercings on his face make you blush – they look so good on him that it quite literally takes your breath away. The way his hair is clipped back makes you wonder what other hairstyles he’s capable of doing – and, as an afterthought, you wonder if his hair smells as good as he looks.

The next one is tall, with his orange hair secured by a white fabric headband. You note his wrist wraps and the kneepad on his leg, as well as the slippers he has on. What kind of fighting does this guy do? His face, though, strikes you as good-natured – and now you’re confused because what is a guy like this doing in a gang? 

You breeze over this minor question and move on to the next. This guy — whoa. Black and white hair split down the middle, with heterochromia eyes. This guy is so cool. But his face is all — pink? Maybe it’s a skin condition? And he’s in a gang too? You begin to worry about his health – unaware of the exasperated looks he’s throwing at you.

He says something to you. Was this the guy who spoke up earlier? You’re way too deep in your thoughts to register anything he said. You do notice, however, that his eyes are still on yours. 

Is it — is it you? Is there something on your face? For a split second, you worry about your complexion — completely forgetting the fact that you have the body of a wheezing man laid out on the ground next to you.

Slightly behind him, you notice a guy with blonde hair and worried eyes. Like a golden retriever — cute. Weird though, this one seems more frantic than the others. Maybe he’s just joined their gang? You ponder on this as your eyes flit to the next person in line and — 

Oh. Oh.

Who is he? One eye is covered by an eye patch — the visible one, though, is warm brown in color and painted with curiosity. Your gaze follows down his long tassel earrings to his calm smile, and you’re pretty sure that your eyes have glazed over.

The lights are on but nobody’s home.

Him — I want to be pummeled by him. 

“What’s your problem? Hello? Helloooo?”

“Maybe she’s not talking … on purpose? Is it a strategy?”

“... I don’t think that’s it, Nire-kun.”

The cherry blossoms surrounding your vision and the romantic tune playing in the back of your mind come to a screeching stop. 

Monologue = stopped. 

Dreams = shattered. 

You flush at the realization that you’d probably been staring at them for a good minute or two — in complete silence. If the ground were to swallow you up at that moment, you’d gladly let it happen. No way in a thousand years did you ever think that you’d stop mid-fight to daydream about your opponents. 

You can almost feel the flick against your forehead that your brother undoubtedly would’ve done – along with his nagging about not being focused and present during a fight.

God, what is this town doing to you?

You blink your eyes back into focus and your lips part as you draw in a quick breath to quip back, ”I’m BUSY right now — I can’t FIGHT you until I educate this guy firs-“

“BEHIND YOU, HE-,“ the blonde one yells out frantically, finger-pointing at the shadow that just breached your peripheral vision.

Damn.

You’re immediately pulled into a chokehold, one of his arms wrapped tight around your neck, and the other holding your head in place. 

From the close proximity, the man is just barely able to hear you muttering under your breath.

“What was that darling? You askin' for forgiveness?” he laughs out, his hold tightening even more and his spit hitting the back of your ear.

You can see that the Bo-something guys are moving towards you, but that infuriates you. How dare they join forces with this pervert to attack one single girl? No way were you letting that happen — not on your life. 

You would rather die than let a man get the satisfaction of beating you. 

You reach your arms up, locking your fingers behind his neck. Just for shits and giggles, you dig your nails hard into the soft skin, leaving red-dotted crescent marks in your wake.

“I said I wasn’t done TALKING!” you yell, before swinging your legs up and bringing them down fast to plant your feet square on the ground. The momentum causes him to stumble and loosen his grip around your neck and head, and with the strength in your thighs and your arms and good ol’ gravity, you flip him again.

He lands flat on his back once more, and you take that chance to finish him off — by slamming your foot down onto his hand. The same hand that started this whole ordeal. The hand that, at that moment, you decided would serve as his lifetime reminder of the consequences of his actions. 

You hear his yowls of pain before you feel the give in his wrist. 27 bones are in the human hand — you had to have broken at least one. You release your foot, and he immediately curls into a fetal position — his hand limp and hanging from his wrist as he cradles it into his chest.

Correction — you definitely broke more than one.

You glance up and see that all 5 guys have stopped in their tracks, varying levels of shock displayed on their faces.

No more games and no more daydreaming – it was time to get serious.

You drop into a fighting stance, your arms raised and your hands in fists. You crack your neck and roll back your shoulders, a dangerous smile on your lips.

“Who’s next?”

-

୨ৎ Chapter 2

[ashsimpsalot]

Big strong man, big strong feelings

Kid x reader

Tw: self self harming behaviours (no cutting), I wrote him with the headcannon that our man has bipolar.

Cheeni universe, kinda a sequal to home to home

Ik I promised filthy fluff but... Yo girl is a deceiver

You smiled as you leaned against the door frame. Fuck you've missed this. This domiscated, more rare version of Kid. When he has a spatula in his hand, an apron tied around his waist, basically nude aside from the apron you gifted him when you two moved to Mumbai.

"I can feel you staring," Kid mumbled as he continued making breakfast. You could just picture the smirk he has on. Gentle music from the 80s could be heard from the smart TV, as the living room isn't that far from the kitchen.

Kid turned the fire off and turned around to look at you, walking towards you with a mock frown. "it was supposed to be breakfast in bed," he scolded jokingly. You shrugged and wrapped your arms on the back of his neck, gently pulled him down and kissed him. Granting the promise you made when you bought him the 'kiss the cook' apron.

He pressed his forehead against yours when you pulled away with a relief sigh. "what's all this about?" you asked quietly, trying to not break the calm ambience. Quiet after the storm. Just yesterday he was sobbing into your chest until he falls asleep. Apologising for the bullshit he pulled.

Kid slowly pulled away and held both of your hands. Staring at your intertwined fingers. "just... Glad to be home," he answered finally lifted his head to look at you. You cupped his cheek and your heart almost break when you see him leaned into your palm. He's had an episode, you two fought it out, not the first time he ran off but it's the first that he stays gone for long. "I'm sorry," he said again, as if the countless amount of times he said yesterday wasn't enough.

You've forgiven him, he doesn't even need to apologise and you'd still forgive him. Your heart is truly his, carved with his name tied to his soul. It jumped out of your chest and tried to chase him the night he stormed off after the fight. The gaping empty hole only grew when he stopped answering your texts and basically fell off the surface of the earth for months.

'I swear, Kid, I won't search for you if you step out of that door.' you fucking lied, of course you did. He's the central pillar of your very soul. You'd forgive him, always.

"I.. I didn't mean what I said. I need you, I need you," he mumbled, his thumb playing with the promise ring placed on your finger. The presence of the ring reminds him that you still love him.

You nod. "I know," you kissed his hand, you'd do anything to comfort this man. Anything.

"it doesn't matter, you're home," you replied, not really sure who you were trying to soothe. Both of you need to be reminded that he's home. Now.

Kid nodded. "I'm home," he repeated. Offering you a small smile and a kiss on your forehead before walking towards the counter and picked up the tray of food he's prepared. "let's get that breakfast in bed, hm?"

With Kid you've learned to enjoy these moments. He's the furthest thing from stable. You knew that. You knew how it'd be to love a broken man.

So you bury it in your mind. When he walks with you to the cafe, his fingers intertwined with yours. He'd make a point to look up at the pretty colours of the sky when the sun rises. It's like rediscovering the world. You made a point to stand and watch him prepare the coffee machine as you wait for customers. Kid would look up at you when he's done and give you a small kiss.

Fuck you've missed him. You know you did but you didn't know you've missed him this much.

You know the stable wave won't stay long. Kid is a big strong man and he has big strong feelings that he can't understand. Kid is quite the handyman, he could fix anything, everything, everything except himself.

You realise it. It happens gradually. He starts waking up a little later than usual. On the way to your shared cafe he doesn't lift his head to look at the sky anymore. He just stares upfront. Holding your hand a little looser.

"you don't have to go today, baby," you said, playing with his curls as he's laid on his chest, bare but a boxer on. You're all dressed up and ready to get to work and he's having the darnest time to even open up his eyes. He looks at you, not a word uttered, face still planted to the pillow. You smiled sadly, you know that empty look.

"take a day off, okay? I could handle the cafe just fine," you promised, leaning towards him to plant a kiss on his forehead before standing up to leave.

The whole day all you could think about was him. At lunch time you gave him a call. It took a few times, when he picks up he lets out a small grunt of 'hello'.

"have you eaten?" you asked, this is good, at least he has the energy to answer his phone. Kid let out a 'mm' and you smiled. "I'll bring back dinner later, okay?" and you're met with the answer identical to before.

Hours later when you stepped into your shared apartment it felt a little too quiet. "Kid?" you asked as you slowly opened the bedroom door, expecting him to lay on the bed bit he isn't there. You searched the house and it's confirmed that he isn't home. "shit, fuck" you mumbled and started dialling up his number. Only to be met with no answer. You tried about 4 more times.

"hey," finally he picked up. "Thank God, where are you, bandhar?"

The other side of the line went quiet and eventually a sigh was felt out. "open the door," he answered. You walked towards the front door and unlocked it, only to be met with bruised and bleeding Kid. He limped towards the couch and threw himself on it.

"Kid-"

"I could do what I want," he immediately cuts you off. He's staring at you, expecting a reaction.

You shook your head. "no, I'm not gonna do this." you meant it another way but he understood it the other

"you're leaving?" he asked, and that made your ears rang. No, you can't give him what he wants. You're trying to keep calm. "no Kid, I always stay,"

"and I leave. Why not find someone better?" Kid asked looking at a bruise on his arm and start pressing on it. You want to stop him but you know he'd try to use it to jab you. You need to remain calm.

"Kid-"

"I'm a burden hm?" he's just echoing his own insecurities. "everyone have their ups and lows" you tried to reason. Kid let out a chuckle. "hm but mine is too high and too low. You'll crash with me one day," he said.

You're tired. Fuck you're tired. "you keep pushing me away, you want me gone?"

For a split second you could see his mask broke. You know him too well. He went out to the ring, wanting the opponent to beat the shit out of him so he can feel something. He's numb. You can see it in his eyes and for a second what you said spark alarms in his mind. You're onto him and he knows. He slips the mask back on.

"you should." Kid replied as if it's final.

"I'm not giving you what you want Kid." you replied as final as his statement. You know this tactic. He used to do this when you both were 17. At first it drove you mad but you knew it's his way to hurt himself. He wants you to yell at him, berate him. Punish him. Hate him like he hates himself.

You walked closed towards him, eyes shifted towards the poor bruised arm that he's applying too much pressure on. You took his wrist. Trying to gently pry his thumb away from the bruise. "you promised to let me love you," you whispered. Hinting at the night you two had on the roof, you just started dating, he's forced you to accept the scholarship and leave him for a better life.

You chose him, the small apartment you two now have and the cafe you two own.

"remember? You promised," your sweet voice echoes in his head. He let you pulled his wrist away, he hung his head low, staring at the carpet. He felt the kiss you planted in his palm and a wave of shame hits him as a form of shiver colonising his whole body.

"I know you, don't pull this on me," you replied, standing between his spread legs. He pressed his forehead onto your lower obdement and wrapped his arms around your waist. You rubbed his back. "Just you, you remember that night, hm?"

Kid's breathing was uneven. He's about to start sobbing and you know. His depressive episodes could look ugly, you're prepared.

"it's unfair to you," he mumbled, looking up at you, he leaned his back against the couch, pulling you onto him, pressing his cheek against your chest, looking up at you. "it's not fair," he repeated.

You shook your head and kissed his forehead. "I love you," you whispered, Kid closed his eyes to soak it in. You moved to place a sma kiss on his nose. "you hear me? I love you," you added. Moving to kiss his lips twice. "you make me happy. You just have issues but so do I. We had this conversation before baby,"

"we were 17, that was years go," Kid finally answered, you used your thumb to caress his chin. "we could be a thousand and I still meant what I said, just you," you made sure to make him look into your eyes. He needs to see you're telling the truth.

He nods. "just us"he drew circles on your back as you've found a comfortable place in his lap. His kisses taste like blood but you don't mind.

"I.. Want to get better," he admitted.

You kissed his cheek. "we'll find a way."

Kid nodded. He had to say it, he's scared that you didn't know, that you thought he meant it. He won't blame you if you do, he's pushed you away so many times.

"I don't want you gone. I want us,"

You smiled., nodded and kissed him. "of course I know that, silly."

[despairat6oclock]

Merry Christmas, Please don't Call

GN! Reader x ChrisMD

Synopsis: Former lovers rekindle on a lonely Christmas Eve

Word Count: 1.0k~

Contains: angst + fluff at the end if you squint

Warnings: Usage of the term "Y/N", drunk Chris, kinda cringey bear with me

[m.list]

Chris and I had broken up after being together for close to an online documented decade. Why? It seemed neither of us actually knew.

After the breakup, I had decided to find a place close to your old one in central London. As I was just as much in the content creating space as my past lover.

The summer has been hectic, having to find my own footing, pace, and peace alone. Finding peace within oneself was proving more difficult than any self-help book led on.

Tonight was the eve before Christmas, marking it off my calendar with a sigh. The snow falling upon the pavement outside marking it too late to go back home now. I wanted to avoid the bombarding questions I was sure to be met with anyways.

Mixing the last bit of the cookie mixture that would only serve one, a bottle of red wine close by. Its contents dip hidden below its wrapped label.

A sigh slipped past between my lips as I pulled my phone out of my apron pocket. Snapping a picture of the messy scene laid out in front of me for my Instagram. Putting the background music to the first Christmas song that popped up without much care before uploading it to my story. The array of notifications laid out neatly on the top of my phone piqued my interest. With comments from multiple media apps as well as a plethora of text messages from hours ago. One specifically catching my eye.

Not putting any meaning to the message before typing a simple corresponding message in return, no need for animosity.

Going back to my batter mix, setting the few doughy blobs into a tray and into the oven before leaning back and admiring the sight of my goods baking before the reverb of a knock on the front caught my attention with a slight jump in surprise.

Upon opening the door, I'm met with a flushed face, glassy eyed Christopher. With his hair disheveled and arm resting against the door frame as he panted erratically.

“Chris?”

I asked in confusion, head tilted while stepping aside just enough that if he wanted he could come in, he could.

“Please don't push me away.”

He practically pleaded, his free hand in front of him moving with his words.

“Are you ok?”

“I don't know."

Gesturing him with a simple hand gesture, “Please come in, you reek of alcohol.”

Stepping into my flat for the first time, being aware enough to close the door behind himself. Feet planted at the entrance as he took in the sight of the place decorated in a way that he knew was distinctly me.

Meanwhile I was back in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water I knew the man needed.

Hand on his back as I lead his swaying feet to the couch, forcing the glass into his hand.

“What brought you here?”

I questioned softly as I took a seat beside him.

“I actually don't know, I was supposed to be heading home with George."

“Should I call you a car?”

“No no, I'm good,” he spat out behind his water.

I nod, getting up to check on my cookies. If he didn't know why he was here, then he should be on his way soon.

“Do you have any plans?”

He speaks up as I walk away.

“For tomorrow?”

Chris hummed in approval.

“Not much, probably just an evening in.”

“Me neither, we should get breakfast.”

Giving a quiet laugh at his rushed words as I pulled the cookies out of the oven.

“Would that be appropriate?”

With a shrug and a smug smirk, I offered him more water. Which he gladly accepted.

“I like your place.”

“Thank you.”

“This couch used to be ours,”

He commented as he rubbed the cushion, a quick flicking grimace marked my features as I put my oven mitt back onto its pin.

“A lot used to be ours.”

Assuming the alcohol was now speaking for him rather than his brain, I continued my work around the kitchen.

“I had a lot of plans,”

He continued, still mindlessly messing with the fabric of the couch.

“I had a ring. Have. I have a ring. It was supposed to be your Christmas present.”

Eyes glancing at him from afar in intrigue and a bit of forced disinterest as I sip at my wine.

“i still carry it around with me, as if there would still be an opportunity for me to propose”

The ruffle of him reaching into his pocket and the click of the ring box opening was enough for my eyes to widen as I continued hiding in the kitchen as he continued his drunken rant.

“I don't even remember why we broke up, but I know it was my fault. Something about growing as a people. I was so ready to marry you.”

The sight of him gazing down into the velvet ring box like a sad puppy was enough to make me sigh and the darkness crawl back into my chest.

“Chris, you're gonna regret this in the morning, I'll call you a car.”

Tugging my phone back out of my pocket, I was quickly met with slurred protests.

“No please wait, a few more minutes.”

“Chris-”

“Please Y/N.”

Hands on my shoulders as I surrender to his defense. Shoulder sagging down with my head as it lays on the edge of his shoulder.

“You aggravate me.”

A chuckle that just screams he's smiling escapes his lips

“I know.”

“You should really go.”

Picking my head up to look up at him, his blue eyes meeting mine.

“Just a few more minutes, please.”

But this time instead of a plea, it was a smile and arms sneaking around my own. It wasn't much of a hug, but it still left his pinky rubbing the side of my palm.

“Just a few more.”

I nodded, trying to fight back a smile that matched his dorky grin.

Those few minutes turned into hours, and those hours turned into a night.

A night spent reminiscing under fairy lights and the background sounds of cliché Hallmark movies.

The snow didn't keep either of us in, but that would be the excuse used the next day when either of us were questioned the next day.

That Christmas Eve wasn’t spent with a lover, but the underlying feelings were more than a friend.

A/N:

This is my first bit of writing on here, so I hope you enjoyed it if you made it all the way down here!

I always accept advice, and even requests.

Cheers!

[death-ofpeace-ofmind]

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Burial Plot: Finale

TW: Self blaming, blood mentioned, alcohol and drug abuse

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Banner: @xmads-omensx

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Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lacy1986 @saythatuwill @shayeanna-ashlie @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @xmads-omensx @heyyoplayer @renegadebirch @miwomens @astronoids @blade-dressed-in-red @lil-garbitch @chey-h @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @collidewiththesav

Author’s Note: I wasn’t going to post this part today, but the voices started telling me to post and I was too excited, I couldn’t wait to finish my first mini series

Y/N

*Flashback*

Noah was coming home tomorrow, but I wouldn’t be here. I had to do what was best for me. I couldn’t do the constant fighting, I couldn’t let this cycle keep going. It was a wash, rinse, and repeat. It had to be broken, no matter what it took. I packed my things, almost everything, the pictures on the wall got packed up within my things, except for one. To remind him that he did this. I didn’t do this. I slid my engagement ring off my finger and placed it on the picture frame on his side of the bed. It took me too long to see this wasn’t the relationship for me. Who I was got buried beneath it.*

*End of flashback*

I opened the door after hearing a knock on a random Wednesday afternoon. I opened it seeing the last person I ever expected to see.

“N-Noah.?” I asked, my heart racing, everything coming back to me, good and bad. I felt like I relived it all in two seconds.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just show up like this, I just needed to see you.” He said softly, his eyes red and puffy, his hand covered in dried blood. “I don’t even know why I came here”

I knew I shouldn’t let him in.

“Come in, let me look at your hand” I said, the shakiness in my voice betraying me. I stepped off to the side to let him in, closing the door behind him, he walked into my kitchen and sat at the table.

I grabbed the first aid kit I kept in my medicine cabinet.

“What did you do?” I asked him, starting to clean his hand.

“I really don’t remember.” Noah says, sounding defeated. He hesitated for a moment before speaking up again. “Why.. Why did you leave like that?” He asked

“Noah, please don’t act like you don’t know why.” I tell him, my breathing getting uneasy.

“No, Y/N, I need to hear it from you.” He tells me.

“Because it was what was best for us both. Noah, you destroyed everything about me.” I said, tears starting to pool up in my own eyes thinking back to everything between us. I looked at his dark brown eyes, it was like I was looking into a broken dream. He looked so broken. No, Y/N, you can’t hold sympathy for him, not after everything.

“I don’t remember what I did.” He said again, “You don’t remember because you were so fucked up you barely remembered your own name.” I told him, attempting to stand my ground.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve any of it.” Noah said. “No, Noah, I didn’t.” I said. “I didn’t deserve a fucking thing, I know that now. You put the drugs, the alcohol, you put everything over me, when I put you put you above everything else.”

“Y/N, quit being stubborn for a second, please and listen,” He said, that pissed me off a little bit, “Stubborn? No, I am stating the facts. Where was your explanation when you had me pinned against walls, nose to nose with me, screaming at me that I was never going to amount to anything, when was I ever enough for you, Noah?!” I snapped, while bandaging his hand. “I never was.” I said while taking a deep breath.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I wish there was something I could do to take it all back. It feels like I’m digging in the dirt, finding every way to hurt instead of finding ways to make it better for myself. Instead of finding ways to move on and let you go. I can’t find any light, it’s just dark.” Noah admitted. I could see the pain in his face. “It’s a big burial plot that I’m digging.”

“Noah.. I need you to, I need you to let it go and move on.” I told him. “But I can’t, I can’t knowing that it was my fault, I’m willing to give you whatever you need, whatever it takes to be able to keep you, Angel. I don’t know who I am without you.” He said with tears running down his own face now

“Noah, I have heard that over, and over, and over again. Nothing ever changes.” I took a deep breath. “It never fucking changes.”

“I know, I know in the past I’ve given you nothing but empty promises, but please, let me show you that this time will be different.” He practically begged.

Noah

I begged and begged for a second chance, she wouldn’t let me. I unlocked and walked through the door of my apartment, the same silence I’ve heard for months greeting me again. I threw my keys onto my table before walking over to the liquor cabinet. I truly had nothing else to lose. She was gone. My future was gone. Every dream I had of marrying her, having kids with her, everything was left in pieces within the fallout. As I crack the bottle open, my phone rings for what seems to be the thousandth time today, but again, I ignored it and turned the bottle up.

*Flashback*

“Noah, I can’t,” She said

“Please, just one more chance.” I begged

“No, Noah, you destroyed me, you treated me like I was nothing to you.” She said

*End of flashback*

Those words repeated in my mind, “I was nothing” but she wasn’t nothing. She was everything to me but I was just too blind to see it. I turned the bottle up again, this time washing the pills I had popped in my mouth down. After a few minutes, I was gone. I was numb again.

Matt

The boys and I went to look around for Noah. I finally caved and called Y/N.

“Hello?” She voice came through the speaker of my phone.

“Hey, I’m sorry to call you, even more sorry to ask this question, but, have you seen Noah? He walked out during recording and we haven’t seen or heard from him since and we can’t find him” I tell her.

“Yeah… He was here. But left about two hours or so ago” She said, really not sounding phased

“Oh shit, thank you anyways.” I tell her gratitude in my voice. “Bye, Y/N” I hung up the phone.

“He was at Y/N’s, but she said he left about two hours or so ago.” I tell them. “I’m going to check his apartment.”

I made the twenty minute drive over to Noah’s apartment, his car was at the studio still, so it wasn’t in the parking lot. Once I got up to his apartment, I knocked and got no answer. I let myself in with the spare key I had.

“Noah?” I called walking through the door, I didn’t see him. Something was telling me to check his bedroom so I did. Noah was sitting on his bed, clutching on to the photo frame, with her engagement ring on a chain around his neck, bottle in the other hand.

“Noah?” I asked stepping closer to the bed.

“I’ve lost her, she’s really gone, Matt..” Noah chokes out through sobs. “It’s truly over”

[builtbybrokenbells]

Partners In Crime

The cure for heartbreak is truth, but what do you do when the truth is the source of heartbreak itself?

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, unrequited love, mentions of cheating/cheating, lots of pining and yearning, unreturned feelings, self doubt, anxiety, anger, depression, marriage/weddings, breakups, crying, mentions of blood/bleeding, being left at the altar, self sabotage, self doubt, eloping, kissing, confessing feelings, drinking, swearing, childhood friends to lovers, sorry if i miss any!

some Jake angst bc i guess I’m not suffering enough right now. much love, hope you guys enjoy 🤍

Jake’s POV

A rose, so strikingly beautiful in its own simplicity. The petals, blood red with intent to steal attention, surrounded by pillowy emerald leaves to frame the picture of her. The smell, sickeningly sweet. The perfume could choke you, suffocate you with its fragrant aura all whilst convincing you that you were okay, and that it would never hurt you. The silk of the petal against the skin of your fingertips, soft and inviting, forever making you wonder how anything could ever be so easy to love.

And then the hand slips, tumbling recklessly past the flowing leaves and grazing over the violent stem. The thorns, the only protection for the beauty above, sticking into your skin as the aching pain begins to spread. Crimson, not just from the leaves, now flows effortlessly from the wound produced by the one thing you’d fallen hopelessly for, reminding you that sometimes, not even love is enough to spare you from the hurt.

The skin, barely even broken, makes you wonder if you were even harmed at all, or if it was a figment of your own imagination, showing you the plausible outcome as it begged you to take a step back. As you brought your hand to the high quality wool of your suit jacket, swiping away the memory of your injury, you knew it could not be false. It hurt too badly to be anything but true, for even dreams did not sting quite the same. As you raise your fist to the oak door, one fancier than you’ve ever seen before, the ache suddenly spreads far beyond the tip of your finger, settling deep in your chest and wrapping around your spine as you wait for an answer.

Not even a shuffle is heard from the other side, and you wonder if maybe you should walk away, or if knocking was a good idea at all. You wonder if she’s in there, weepy-eyed with a smile while she stares at her reflection in the mirror and a dozen hands worked to zip up the back of her dress. You wonder what the dress looked like, if it was intricately beaded or plastered with lace, or maybe it was a silk slip that screamed elegance that matched her entirety.

You need not wonder, because wondering was never something you had to do on her behalf. You knew her, and you knew her better than the back of your hand. More than that, you were certain you had studied her far beyond what you’d ever known about the rosewood fret of your SG. You knew she was in the room, dressed perfectly in white lace extending down to her wrists, cascading delicately to the floor behind her as she walked. Her hair was twisted up, the loose pieces by her face hanging down to accentuate the warmth of her cheeks, just like always. Her hands, perfectly manicured and searching too busy themselves as she tried her best not to break a nail or chip away at the polish. She was tapping one foot against the ground, her heart beating so hard in her chest you could nearly hear it from the hallway, but despite her anxiety, she held a soft, warm smile on her lips.

She was not an open book, but you’d dedicated a lifetime to knowing her. Months and miles could separate you, and you would find her again the exact same as how you left her. Sometimes, things never changed, and thankfully, she was one thing that never wavered.

You knew her so well, and seeing her after so much time away, the same picture as you’d seared in your mind every night alone in a hotel room, was always comforting. It wrapped you in a blanket of warmth, filling your heart with so much love it might burst from your chest. She was everything, and she reminded you of that fact every time she graced you with her presence.

Unfortunately, her company often came with more than just that.

When the door opened, revealing the picture you’d already created in your mind, you were reminded of that fact worse than ever before.

“Jake?” She breathed, her lips glossy and her eyes sparkling to match. Her hair was twisted up, just as you’d imagined it would be, dazzling with a clip covered in gems. The soft locks of hair hung around her face, the same ones she could never seem to get a handle on. This time, it was purposeful, and you knew she’d given in to the lack of control rather than fighting it. “I can’t believe you made it.” The smile on her face was striking, but as breathtaking as it was, it hurt worse than it helped your aching heart.

“You didn’t really think I would miss your big day?” You forced the words out, wondering why you couldn’t just appreciate the moment rather than dread the future. You extended your arm, holding out the flower, you realized it had nothing on her. As beautiful as you once believed it was, seeing her stand in front of you dressed in the wedding gown and dolled to perfection, you knew nothing could ever hold a candle to her. Not even the blood red petals and the emerald leaves.

No, especially not something as simple as that.

“Here,” you said, watching her gaze down upon the single flower held in your hand. “Figured there would be lots of white today, so maybe some color would break up the monotony a bit.” Another smile graced her lips, so big the apples of her cheeks would start to ache if she held it for any amount of time.

You wanted to see her smile, so why did it hurt so much?

More than that, why did it hurt so bad to love something that was so easy to fall in love with?

“You always know what to say, Jacob.” She whispered, grabbing it from your grasp, her eyes never straying from the ruby red petals. “I never should have doubted you.” It looked a million times better in her hands than it ever did it yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the thorns never once thought to prick her skin, fearful of harming something so beautiful.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You chuckled, finding the ache ease the more she spoke. The soft sound hit your ears, quickly making itself the most important thing in the entire room. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” And it was the truth, even if you knew you shouldn’t be saying it. “Not that you don’t look beautiful every day.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, finally looking up to catch your eye. She held the stare for a moment, and just like every other time, you could have sworn there was something there, something deeper than the surface level shit the two of you were spewing to each other.

If there was, you were still a coward, and when you thought about addressing it, your palms broke into a sweat and your stomach twisted in a knot.

Maybe if you had found the courage all those years ago, you’d never be standing before her now, watching her get married. Maybe, you would be the one waiting to marry her.

“Do you want to come in?” She asked, her eyes flickering past you, settling on the wallpapered drywall in the hallway. She blinked a few times, seemingly trying to bring herself back to reality. You wanted to ask, but you were afraid of the answer.

“F’course. Think we’ve got some catching up to do.” Catching up before she could never be bothered to think of you again, is what you should have said. After all, it was the truth, no matter how badly it hurt.

“Definitely.” She let out a giggle, throwing the door open and stepping back. As soon as you let yourself move forward, you felt like you were punched in the stomach. In the air lingered a perfume you’d spent a lifetime trying to forget. It was the sweetest smell that you’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing. You’d spent nights with your head buried under the covers, your lips ghosting the skin of other women to try and drown the memory of her, but it never worked. When you woke in the morning, you always seemed to yearn for the same thing. Everything paled in comparison, soured just by the knowledge that something so special existed. “Everything got pushed back a little bit, but I’m trying not to panic. The day is still good, we’re here, we’re happy, even if it is a little bit later than expected.”

Happy.

Bold choice of words, sweetheart.

“What happened?” You asked, your eyes floating around the room, taking in everything it had to offer. Bridal suites were always so feminine, divine in their own special way. Billowy curtains, a stunning aerial view of the yard, porcelain white bathrooms and neat towels folded at every corner. It was perfect, everything in place, but it wasn’t her. Although she was perfect and pristine at first glance, she loved mess. For her entire life, she’d strewn clothes across the floor, leaving water bottles behind wherever she went. She loved nature, the feeling of earth on her skin and sand between her toes. Many times you’d walk in on her, paint covering her clothes and splattered on her face because she tried to repaint her bedroom all on her lonesome.

She was perfect in her chaos, and it was one of the very things that made you love her in the first place.

You wondered if her soon to be husband loved her for the very same things. You didn’t know him, nor did you know much about him. When you talked, it was never about him, but rather the life you two once dreamed of building together. Your job had taken you away from home, away from her, and as much as you missed her, you were grateful you never had to watch her fall in love with someone else. At the same time, it made you uneasy, unsure if you could watch your best friend fall into the arms of a man you knew nothing about. You dreaded the idea that he did not love her for those quirks, and that in your time away, his subjective love had made her change.

You looked to the bed, where she would have slept the night before, noticing the sheets pulled from the corners and the pillows nearly falling off the sides. The bag that once protected her dress was flipped inside out, thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed and long forgotten. A sadness washed over you, knowing that he did love her the same way. Then, you felt guilty for being sad at all; you should be jumping for joy that such a wonderful woman was being loved the way she deserved.

Even so, you could not shake the feeling of knowing you could love her better than anyone ever had, if she’d just give you the chance.

Then again, how could she ever give you a chance when you had always been too afraid to ask?

“No point in getting into it. Doesn’t matter now, does it?” She said, her tone light and the look in her eyes far away. You took a step towards the window, taking a long look outside. Rows of chairs were placed in the large field, the pond in the background decorated with lily pads and the birds sat upon trees in the distance singing love ballads. You wanted to be happy, but your stomach felt like it was filled with lead and your bones were heavy with the weight of your grief.

Tell her.

“It is important, sweetheart. It’s always important, to me at least.” Of course you could not tell her. Every time you thought about voicing your love for her, your throat closed around the words and your tongue petrified. Your heart raced, your whole body vibrating with the intensity of the emotion you felt for her, yet sentenced to a lifetime of never being able confess your sins.

Loving her in itself was not a sin, but by god did it feel like one. It was your biggest secret, and your largest skeleton in the closet. It loomed over your head wherever you went, and it clung to the fibers of your being no matter how hard you tried to shake it off. At five years old, with mud streaked cheeks and grass stains on your knees, you loved her the same. At twelve, with cracking voices and awkward statures, you still thought she was the most beautiful thing in the whole world. At eighteen, when you were lucky enough to bring her as your date to senior prom, you swore you would never feel the same for another woman, and you still hadn’t. Just a few days ago, thousands of miles away, she was the only thing you wanted. With her wedding invitation folded in your wallet, her name in your phone with a heart beside it despite the years being unkind to your friendship, she was the only thing you ever wanted to come home to.

“No, because if I talk about it, I’ll psych myself out again.” At that, a spark of hope ignited in your chest.

“Again?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, looking out at the yard too. A few guests were sat already, preparing for the main event. The event in which would forever haunt you. “I mean, it’s my wedding, the biggest day of my life. I think it’s normal to be anxious?” She posed it like a question, like she wanted you to tell her she was wrong, but you couldn’t. If you were to have her, it wouldn’t be like this. It wasn’t fair to ruin this for her for your own selfish purposes.

“Talk me through it, maybe I can help.” You offered. She took a seat on the edge of the bed, gentle and quiet as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress.

“I didn’t picture it like this.” She whispered, looking towards the floor. “I always thought I’d wake up on the morning of my wedding day, and I’d be overjoyed. I-I mean, I am, just not the way I thought I would be. I woke up, and it was cloudy outside. The sun’s not even shining, Jake.” You wanted to sit beside her, to pull her into your arms and tell her the sun was not shining because he was not the man she was supposed to marry, but you didn’t. Instead, you stood there, yearning to be the one who she was excited yet nervous to marry. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.” She huffed, shaking her head at herself.

“Stop it, you always do that.” You said, stepping towards her. She looked up at you, noticing you were closer than before. Her stare paralyzed you, ensuring you could not progress any further. “You always act like how you feel isn’t important, but it is, Y/N. To me, it is.”

“But it’s not, Jake. I just have the jitters. Once I get out there and say my vows, it’ll be better. I know it will be.”

How do you know?

How does she know that when the curtain closes and the sun draws near the earth, that she’ll be happy with her decision? How does she know that even under the warm golden hue on the earth as it prepares for the night, the uncertainty would flee? How does she know that she won’t decide he’s not the one for her, only after it’s too late?

“If you say so, sweetheart.” You nod, biting back a sorrowful smile. She was looking at you, studying you, waiting for you to say something else. You wondered if she was waiting for you to say the very thing you’d sworn yourself to secrecy about.

Of course she didn’t. She was getting married, and not to you.

Still, there was this hint of hope in her eye you couldn’t help but pick up on. It was the same hope that you so often felt when you were with her.

“Anyway, enough about me and my woes… how was Europe? I’m sure much more exciting than consoling a pitiful bride.”

Never.

You would console her every minute of every day and you would never get tired of it, nor would you wish to be anywhere else. She was what you wanted, no matter the circumstance. You wanted her for all she was, the sadness, happiness and anger combined. You didn’t want her on technicalities nor did you want only the good parts. You loved her so dearly that you’d even take the worst from her, if that was all she was ever willing to give you.

“It was good,” You cleared your throat as you spoke, finding a lump steadily growing within it.

“That’s it?” She forced a chuckle out, clearly picking up on your distance. “Give me more than that. How can I live vicariously through you if that’s all you have to say about it?” There was humour in her tone, but she meant what she said. She still wanted to be there with you.

“Yeah, it was good.” You nodded, feigning a little more excitement. “It’s beautiful there.”

“Was it everything we ever dreamed of?” The simple question hit you like a brick, the sheer weight of her words nearly making you double over in pain. Suddenly, you were sixteen again, crowded in her tiny bedroom and sharing a comforter on her twin mattress. The air was chilly and the lights were dim, your bodies close, but never as close as you wanted to be. Laughter hung thick in the air, keeping you warm just as well as the blanket as you talked about dreams and fears of the future.

Out of all the fears, you never seemed worried about her not being a part of your biggest dreams.

Maybe you had been scared of all the wrong things.

“You would have loved it, Angel.” You confessed, looking away from her so you did not have to see the sadness on her face. “I wished you were with me every step of the way.”

“I should have went,” she whispered, pain clear in her voice the same as it was in your own. “In the beginning, I should have went with you when you asked. Maybe we could have done all the things we used to talk about.”

“You still can.” The words slipped out effortlessly, and you wished you could take them back. The sentiment hung heavy in the air, both of you knowing the meaning was much deeper than it seemed. “I mean… You know, you can always come visit, see the sights and stuff.” Your cover up was pathetic, but it was the best you could do in the moment.

“You guys still want me there?” She asked, surprising you with her intrigue. You’d expected a blunt rejection, but she was humouring your ideas. You turned to look at her again, unable to keep your eyes off of her. A small smile blossomed on your lips, a real one that could only be accredited to her.

“Y/N, there’s not a day that goes by that we don’t want you there with us.” It was the truth, even if it was heavy. She took in a long breath, looking down at her attire for a moment before catching your eye again.

“I think about it more than I should.” She admitted, shy about still living within that same daydream whilst oblivious to the fact that you’d never left it. Your heart fluttered at the idea of her still thinking about spending her days with you, sharing hotel rooms and building a new life together, away from your hometown, away from him. “Come sit with me?” She asked, hopeful that you would oblige.

Josh had told you not to walk into the building, not to knock on her door with sad eyes and a broken heart. At the time, you thought he was ridiculous for suggesting such a thing, knowing you needed to see her. Now that she was looking at you, more beautiful than ever, you knew he was right. It was a bad idea to come, and a worse idea to sit beside her when you knew it would do nothing but break your heart further. As you stepped towards the bed, sitting next to her, you just hoped that you would not break her heart the same as you were breaking your own.

You were still, staring forward instead of turning your body towards her like you so badly wanted to. Then, without warning, her hand reached out for yours, settling so cautiously over the back of your hand. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, just as wonderful as it was all of those years ago. You could not remember the last time anything felt so good.

Tell her.

“I’m really glad you came, Jake.” She said, quiet as a mouse as if her confession was a crime.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart. You know that.”

“I do,” She agreed, but it was strained. “It’s just… been so long since I’ve seen you. I was worried I might not be as important to you anymore.”

She wanted to be important to you. Even now, when she was minutes away from being someone else’s, she would always be a little bit yours.

She had never been yours, but in some strange way, you both had the inkling that she was.

“You’ll always be important to me, angel.” You said, feeling her perfume begin to suffocate you. It was lethal, but you knew if you walked away, you would beg to come back just to die at her hands. “Do you remember when we were kids and you used to dream about this day? How I always told you I’d be here to hold your hand through it, just so you don't get scared and run away?”

“Yeah,” she let out a small laugh, but her mind was far away. You wondered what she was thinking, and you wondered if you even wanted to know. As terrible as it was, you hoped she was thinking about you. “How tightly can you hold my hand?” She asked, her tone airy and light, like she wheezed the words past her lips.

“What?” You asked, keeping the smile on your face as you turned your head to look at her. There was something unfamiliar in her eyes.

She was afraid.

For the first time in your life, you had to swallow the fact that the bravest person you knew was afraid of the future. No matter the circumstances, she had always been prepared. Even when your bags were packed and you held a plane ticket in your hand, ready to fly away from everything you’d ever known, away from her, she was not scared. You were terrified, tears in your eyes with shaking hands, but she never wavered and instead, encouraged you to follow your dreams. She kissed your cheek and hugged you tight, reassuring you that you could do anything you put your mind to.

If that was true, you would be able to say the words.

Jesus Christ, Jacob. Tell her. Time is running out.

You felt panicked, waiting for her to respond. You needed to say the words, but they were stuck in your throat again. You didn’t want to lose her, but your own cowardice was seeing that through.

“I want to run.”

Please, Y/N, run away.

Don’t do this.

“Why, sweetheart? I thought this was what you wanted? You looked so happy in the pictures on the invitation.” Convincing her to leave would be selfish, and she needed you to be selfless. You would be anything she needed, even if it was not what you wanted. “Is… is he good to you?”

“Oh, yeah.” She nodded, solemn in her answer. “He’s great.”

“…but?”

“But, I don’t think he’s what I want.” The words were like a breath of fresh air, a million pounds lifted off your shoulders. You were so featherlight that you felt like you were floating away. Hearing her say it was a relief, but it did not stop you from feeling guilty about it. “Everyone said it was okay to be nervous, but I don’t think it’s normal to doubt it. My mom said she was nervous to marry my dad, but she was so certain he was what she wanted. I’m… I’m not. I don’t know if I’m ready to give up my freedom, my last name. I don’t know if I can commit to him for a lifetime, because I can barely even commit to him right now.”

You wanted to ask. You needed to know if that meant what you thought it did.

Fucking tell her.

“I woke up today sick to my stomach, and it hasn’t stopped. I’m sitting here, and… ugh, fuck.” She groaned, her free hand flying to her forehead in exasperation. “I’m the worst, Jake. He’s so good to me, and I just… I don’t want him to be. The last few months, I’ve been waiting for an excuse to leave. If I do and nothing changes, then I’m the bad guy, and I don’t want that. It’s just… I love him, but I’m not in love, I don’t think. It’s boring, and every day is the same. When you’re in love, boring is nice, but this boring is just… boring.”

“Keep talking.” You encouraged, knowing that no matter which way it went, she needed to speak her mind.

“He doesn’t want to do anything. We don’t go anywhere, we don’t go on dates. We just sit at home and stare at each other. It’s been months since we’ve had fun, and I don’t know if I want a lifetime without fun. Even today… I didn’t want this. The big ceremony and the expensive dinner… it’s not me. I hate it, and he thinks I love it.”

You knew it wasn’t her, but you wanted to believe that she was the one who picked it. Hearing her say it broke your heart, knowing that this was not what she dreamed of when you two were kids. It was not what you wanted for her, either.

“I kicked my bridesmaids out because I needed time alone to calm down, and I thought it would work being away from the wedding stuff for a minute. I guess it did, but it wasn’t in the way I hoped it would be.” You reached into your suit jacket, your fingers searching for the inside pocket. They closed around the cool metal, pulling it from its hiding place as you extended your arm towards her. You knew you would need it to get through the day, but you didn’t expect her to need it, too. She looked down at the flask, her lips quirking into a soft smile. She grabbed it from you, placing her painted lips against the opening and throwing her head back.

“I’m your best man, y/n. I need to know if you want me to hold your hand so you’ll stay, or if you want me to start the car so we can get you out of here.”

“Don’t give me that option.” She chuckled, shaking her head as the whiskey burned her chest. Her cheeks turned rosy in reaction to the alcohol, reminding you she was still the same girl she was all of those years ago.

“Why, ‘cause you’ll take it?” You challenged.

“Yeah,” She nodded, answering without hesitation as she watched you take a sip, too.

“Then that’s your answer, doll. Don’t force yourself to stay when all you want to do is run. You feel that way for a reason.” Suddenly, convincing her to leave was no longer your best interest, but hers, too. You did not care what happened outside of the room so long as she was happy, and it appeared to you that she would not be so long as she stayed.

It just so happened to be the option that would make you the happiest, too.

“Thought you were supposed to hold my hand and make me stay? That’s what I always told you to do.”

What if I don’t want to do that?

“Is that what you want?” You asked, noticing your hand still held tightly in her own. She didn’t seem to want to let go.

“No… maybe? I don’t know.” She sighed.

“I always promised I’d do what’s best for you, Y/N, and if holding your hand and making you stay isn’t what you want, I don’t know if I can do it.”

Tell her.

“Would you hold my hand and help me run away?”

“That’s what best friends do, is it not?” You grinned, taking another sip from the flask.

“A best friend would tell me I’m insane, I think.”

“Right,” you give a slow nod, chuckling to yourself. “We’ve always been more like partners in crime, I think.”

“I’d say.” She laughed, nodding with you. “I missed you, Jake.” Your hand tightened over hers, your heart beating a million miles a minute. She held your stare, again adorning that same hopeful glimmer.

Is this what she wanted, or were you only seeing it in such a way because you wanted it so badly? Was she dropping you hints, or were you crazed by how dearly you loved her? Worst of all, should she actually run, or were you encouraging it because you couldn’t stand the thought of her staying?

“I missed you too, sweetheart. More than you know.”

“I feel good, Jake. Better than I have all day.” She confessed, intertwining your fingers with her own and rubbing her thumb over the back of your hand.

“Maybe you just needed to get it out and get on with your day?” You offered, saddened at the thought.

“No,” she shook her head, her voice quiet again. “It’s ‘cause you’re here. Been looking forward to today, but I think the only reason why is because I knew you’d be here.”

Love could not begin to describe how you felt for her, especially after hearing her say such things.

“Is that bad? I’m more excited to see you today than my future husband.” She said, her face plagued with guilt and her beautiful smile fading into a frown. In an instant, your hesitancy faded and you reached your hand out to cup her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, relief showering the both of you. Touching her felt like finally being home after a nasty bout of homesickness. You ran your thumb over her cheek, the makeup littering her skin not even thinking of smudging under your touch.

She was not the thorny rose that hurt you. She was not a beautiful thing that hurt to love. She was the petals, beautiful and breathtaking, and you were the thorn drawing your own blood.

Not once in this lifetime had she ever hurt you. You had become the one who was an expert at harming yourself. In that moment, the ache in your chest had nothing to do with how easy she was to love, and everything to do with the fact you had always been too scared to say it aloud. Relationships with others and miles between you could not dampen the adoration you felt for her, but that was not her fault. If only you had the strength to tell her, maybe the hurt would ease for both of you.

“I want to have fun with him, like the two of us used to have. I want every minute to seem easy, like it does with us, but it isn’t. It’s hard more than it’s ever been simple, and I don’t think that’s how I want to live my life.”

Was she saying it? Were you hearing the words you’d forced yourself to hold back? Was she saying everything you had been feeling all this time?

Tell her, Jacob.

“Even if I do change my mind, I’ve been in here all day saying these terrible things. How can I go out there and marry him after doubting it so much?”

She wanted you to answer her questions, but it was a dead end for both of you. If you encouraged it, it would be an admission of betrayal for her. You were her best friend, the one person who promised not to hurt her. If you encouraged her to run, you might be hurting her far more than it would help her. If you told her to stay, you were faced with the haunting feeling that both of you would look back on this moment and regret the decision.

“Answer this,” you said, keeping your gaze on her as you spoke. “In thirty years, if you marry him today, will you regret staying? Or if you leave, will you look back in thirty years and feel like you made a mistake?”

“I-I can’t answer that Jake. I don’t know.” There was a glossy look in her eye, one that spoke volumes. It was louder than any word she had spoken thus far. The fear and hesitation was clear in her face, and you wanted to comfort her, but you did not know how.

When you got on that plane, flying home to her, you never expected to be faced with such a situation. You never expected to feel hopeful about today, especially after you had spent so many months dreading it.

“I guess… it would be easier to regret leaving than regret staying, right?” She breathed. “If I stay, I’m wasting thirty years. If I leave, I can spend that time learning to love life in other ways, and maybe I’ll never think it was a mistake at all.”

“Right,” You nodded, looking back out the window, noticing people filling chairs. Your heart dropped to your stomach, wondering if she would follow through with her thoughts, or if she would stay out of obligation. Could you keep her occupied for long enough so she could come to the right decision? “I can’t tell you what to do, sweetheart, but I can support whatever you decide.”

“Will… will you take me to Europe with you?” She asked, her eyes pooling with unshed tears. “You’re going back, right? I-I… I want to do what we talked about. I want to travel the world Jake, with you.” She stammered out, as if she couldn’t believe her own words. “I know I sound crazy, I know I do, but I’m not. You’re… you’re my whole world, the only thing that’s ever made sense to me. You’re my best friend, and there’s so many things we promised that we never got to do. I don’t want to miss out on that, or be stuck in my hometown knowing I made a mistake by letting you walk away again.”

“Y/N,” You warned, wondering if she realized the extent of what she was telling you. Suddenly it all became real, and it was much larger than the fantasy you had been living in since you sat down beside her.

Josh was right, and you were breaking your own heart by entertaining an impossible idea.

“No, don’t tell me I’m wrong. I dont want to hear it.” She shook her head, silently pleading with you to be honest with yourself just for one second.

She felt it too. You have to tell her.

“Jake, take me to Europe. I want to see the world. I want to be with you again, and Josh and Sam, and Danny too. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted this. I don’t want to wait a year before I see you again and… I just, I can’t.” She was saying it in every way she knew how, without having to say the actual words aloud. “He’s not the person I should be marrying, Jake.”

You wanted to tell her everything, how you wanted it even more than she did, but it was not right. She was nervous, second guessing because of cold feet on the biggest day of her life. You could not take her away from this and ruin everything. You could not take her away and have her regret choosing you. Making her unhappy would be the biggest mistake of your life, and you would never be able to repent from it.

“Listen to me,” you said, taking her face between your hands, gentle and telling of all the love you had for her. “You wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t right, sweetheart. You are the most self-assured, smart, and level-headed person I know, and right now, this isn’t you. You’re getting married, angel. You’re going to go outside and walk down the aisle and steal everyone’s breath away, because you are the most beautiful thing that’s ever graced this earth. You’re getting married, and you’re going to be happy. I promised you I’d be here to hold your hand so you couldn’t run, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Jake,” she protested, her bottom lip quivering as tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks. “What happened to whatever I decide? What happened you supporting me no matter what? Why would you let me say all of that just to tell me I’m wrong?”

“Maybe I lied,” you whispered, swiping away a stray tear. “Trust me when I say, I want you to come with us so badly, but I don’t want you to regret it. Right now, I think you will.”

“I won’t, Jake. Been thinking about it since you got on the plane last time. Every time, really.” She shook her head, panic beginning to set it. More tears made an appearance, and you did your best to wipe them away as soon as they fell.

You loved her enough to do what was best, even if it killed you to do it.

“Don’t cry, angel. Only happy tears, today.” You hummed, pulling her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around you, holding you as if her life depended upon it. You held her just the same, knowing she had no idea how much it meant to you to have her in your arms. She had no idea how much it meant to you that she wanted to go with you, instead.

That was the reason you had to make her stay, though. You could not in good faith allow her to run away, because deep down, the motive would always be just a little bit selfish.

“I love you, Jake.” She said it with so much conviction that it was hard to ignore. She said it like a confession, rather than a fact.

“I love you, sweetheart.” And yours was a confessional statement too, even if she did not realize it. Just as the words left your lips, a knock sounded on the door. It forced the two of you apart, even if it was painful for the both of you. You brought your thumb to her face again, carefully swiping away the specs of mascara that had fallen. Her sadness plagued her, but it did not stand in the way of her beauty. Once she was back in perfect condition, you urged her to answer the door.

She stood, white gown flowing angelically behind her as her fingers wrapped round the golden doorknob. She pulled it open, now face to face with her mother, who was so busy jittering with excitement she failed to notice the grief written across her daughters face. She looked in the room, her eyes landing on you and widening with a joyous shock, happy to see you had made the occasion.

Would her mother be this happy if she knew you almost ruined her daughters big day?

She barely uttered a greeting before turning back to the girl you loved so dearly. “It’s time, sweetheart. Your dad is waiting outside. Are you ready?”

Are you ready? The question pounded in your ears like a drum, louder with every passing moment.

Is she ready?

Are you ready?

Tell her, Jake.

She looked back at you over her shoulder, stunning and breathtaking as if she was waiting for you to answer for her. Her mother watched you, only slightly concerned about the tension in the air.

“She’s ready.” You forced a smile, nodding your head. Her eyes caught yours as she pleaded with you to stop, to stop everything and stay in the room with her for just a little while longer.

She wanted you, the same as you wanted her, but you were not good for her. You were just the thing that was standing in the way of her forever. If it was meant to be, it would have happened all of those years ago.

Right?

Right?

Tell her.

“Will you walk with me?” Her voice, sweet as honey and smooth as silk, settled deep somewhere in your heart with no intent to leave. Would you walk with her? Could you handle such heartbreak?

“Of course, sweetheart.” You nodded, taking a stand. You straightened out your jacket, drawing in a long breath as reality began to take hold.

This was it. The very thing you’d had nightmares about your entire life. The love of your life, vowing to love someone else for the rest of hers.

Her mother straightened her hair for her, running a soft hand over the line of her shoulders where lace met soft skin. She ensured she was pristine, not a thread out of place before kissing her cheek and promising to meet her out there. She looked at you only, her gaze never faltering.

She wanted you, Jacob. Only you.

Her mother disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in heavy silence once again. It felt like weights were tied around your ankles, holding you there and sentencing you to an eternity spent in limbo.

Tell her.

“Let’s go, angel.” You said, taking a step towards her. Her eyes, pleading again, but her mouth did not move. She stood, stoic and statue-like. She was petrified from her own heart, unsure if she could take the heartbreak of having you give her away.

“Okay.” She whispered, her throat scratchy and her hands trembling. She reached out to you, the action telling you she still needed you to hold her hand and make her stay. You grabbed on to it, lacing your fingers together once more, unable to ignore how right it felt. “Please stay with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you.” Your chest was tight, burning with rage towards yourself. Why couldn’t you do it? Why were you biting your tongue if it was only hurting the both of you more? You swore yourself to secrecy, letting yourself believe that the truth was more painful than silence, but that was no longer true. The truth would set you free, and possibly even allow you to love the one thing you never allowed yourself to have.

The hallway was barren, but voices were in the distance. Happy, bubbly, excited. The echoes were the exact opposite of the emotion hanging between you two. She should feel that way. Why didn’t she feel that way? She was happy before you showed up, stealing the light from her eyes even on her biggest day.

Was she, though? Really and truly happy?

You two walked together, the personification of grief becoming you both despite the joy you were supposed to be feeling. When you neared the end of the hallway, you had to stop. The world was spinning, seemingly crumbling before your eyes. Your stomach was sick, your palms sweating and your knees ready to give out under your weight. You couldn’t do it, even if you promised her you would.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, panicked at your sudden loss of confidence.

“I…” you trailed off, looking over her face. “I can’t,” you shook your head.

“You can’t?” You can’t what?” She pressed, anger bubbling inside of her. She needed honesty, and she needed it now. Why couldn’t you muster the strength?

“I can’t go out there.”

tell her.

Tell her.

Tell Her.

Fucking Tell Her, Coward.

“I can’t… I can’t watch you marry someone else.”

The world appeared normal, the sun still desperately trying to peek out from underneath the clouds and the birds still singing their pitiful love songs. The chatter remained in the hallway, unchanged and unbearable. Her hand still rested in your own, and her eyes were still watching you. Your heart was still beating, and your knees did not give way. The same look was on her face, and the glimmer in her eyes never changed.

The world looked the same, but everything was different.

Finally, after a lifetime of holding it back, you told her the truth.

“Why?” She asked, desperate to hear you say it. Her expression was not one of horror, but one of great hopefulness. “Tell me Jake. I need to hear you say it.”

“I love you, Y/N.” You rasped, your own throat dry as your words came out with a nervous wobble. “I can’t watch you marry him, because I’m in love with you.”

“Fuck, Jake.” The words hit you hard, like a knife even though she did not brandish them like a weapon. “Took you long enough, don’t you think?” You we’re too immersed in your own confession to care about her chastise. You opened the flood gates, and now there was no sign of stopping.

“When we were five, I loved you. Way back when we used to make mud pies and play pretend in my parents’ front yard, I wanted to do it with you for the rest of my life. When we were twelve, I loved you. We didn’t know what love meant, but we knew how much we meant to each other. When we were sixteen, making plans in your bedroom to travel the world together, I loved you so much it hurt. Right now, I love you the same as I did then, but even more so, because I know what it means, and I know it’s never going to go away.” You confessed, feeling the weight of the world being lifted from you. “Europe wasn’t everything we dreamed of, because you weren’t there. You weren’t there, Y/N, and I spent every night wishing you were. I came home to watch you get married, but I can’t do it, because I love you too much.”

“I can’t get married, Jake.” She said, looking over her shoulder to ensure nobody was onlooking the situation between you.

“I wanted to encourage you, to make sure you followed through with it because you deserve this life, sweetheart. You deserve the house, the dogs and the expensive ring and fancy wedding venue. You deserve everything, but I was always so afraid I couldn’t give it to you. Right now, I’m afraid that nobody could ever give you what I could, because nobody could ever love another person this way, this much.”

“You give me everything, Jake. You gave me the world when we were five, and you’re giving me the world right now, without even knowing it.” She said, the tears rushing to her eyes again. “I can’t get married to him, because I only ever wanted to marry you.” Her cheeks were damp with her misery, feeling guilty on behalf of a man she did not love nearly half as much as you. “I made this life, this new dream because you left, and I was afraid I’d never get the chance to live out the dream we made when we were kids. I spent all day unsure if I was making the right decision, but you showed up at my door, and now I know that I’m not. Marrying him has never been the right decision, and if I go out there, I’ll be looking for you in the crowd, wishing it was you standing beside me, instead.”

“Make the right decision, then.” You pleaded, knowing you could not make the first move. “Make the right decision, Y/N, because I’ve always been too scared to do it myself. Make the right decision before we lose our chance, please.”

She sprung forward, her hand slipping from yours and instead wrapping around your neck. One hand anchored on her hip and the other cupped her cheek, drawing her into you as she pressed her lips to your own. It was a feeling you’d been waiting a lifetime for, but the daydreams never came close to how it truly felt.

You told her, and she made the right decision, just like it was always meant to be. You’d been so afraid of something you never needed to fear, because she loved you just the same.

You could feel her tears on your cheeks as she pulled away, but the smile on her face contradicted the inkling of sadness that lingered on her skin.

“Happy tears, Jake.” She said, her face still so close to your own. “I’m happy, now. I’m not second guessing it, because I’ve spent the last six months making sure this was how I truly felt. Today was the last piece of the puzzle. You walking in that door made everything make sense. As much as it hurts to leave him here, it would hurt him much more if I married him while I was in love with someone else.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You said, running your fingertips over the soft skin of her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed again, enamoured with the feeling of you touching her.

“Don’t be,” She shook her head. “I could have said it too, but it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is we said it now, before it was too late.”

“You’re dad’s gonna kill me.” She let out a laugh, the first genuine one since you got there.

“No, he’ll be fine. He likes you much more than he likes him.” She assured you. “My mom, though, is a different story. She’ll get over it.” She promised, leaning forward and pressing another quick kiss to your lips. “But, if we’re gonna make a break for it, we should go now, before anyone comes looking for us.”

“Right,” You grinned, nodding in response. “Let’s go get your things. I’ll text Josh.”

“He’s here too?” Her face lit up at the knowledge. You nodded, smiling at her joy.

“Everyone is.”

“Oh, god. They’ll be a witness to my craziness.” She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down. The emotion was high, surging through the both of you like never before.

“Your crazy is mine too, angel.” You said, giving her hip a squeeze. “Partners in crime, remember?”

“Right.” She said, grinning up at you.

Without another word, she led you back towards the suite. You closed the door behind you, giving her just enough time to grab the most important things. You watched her scribble a note down on the back of a wedding invitation, likely an apology for the now ex-fiancé she left hanging. As you watched, you couldn’t help but smile, falling more in love with her by the second and only feeling slightly bad for the man she was leaving behind. He was losing the best girl in the world, but you could not dwell on his loss, because it was your gain. You were walking away with the love of your life, and he was losing a fiancé. You were sure the poor guy could find someone else.

To you, if you lost her, you knew there would never be another. Even before you lost her forever, you knew that to be true.

She turned to you, frazzled but still stunning despite her panic. She had a few things clutched tightly in her hand and a change of clothes in her arms, walking towards you and showing you she was not regretting her choice to leave. If anything, she was over the moon, and you could see it in her eyes. Instead of uncertainty, there was happiness sparkling within the beautiful hue of her irises.

“You want me to take that?”

“Yes please.” She breathed, handing the small items off to you. As you grabbed them, you noticed her finger was now ringless. The shiny diamond was sitting atop the goodbye letter, which was stuck in plain sight. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not.” You assured her. “Like I said, if you are, I am too.”

“I’m okay with being crazy together.” She said, more light in her eyes than ever before.

“The guys are gonna meet us in the lot out back, so you can get out of here without any questions. We can worry about the rest later.”

“Okay,” she nodded, a nervous jitter running through her.

“Hey, we’ll be okay. Do you trust me?”

“More than anything.” She said, certain in her answer.

“Then let’s get out of here.” You grinned, opening the door for her. She was still in her dress, her change of clothes held tightly to her chest. Before she stepped back into the hallway, she kicked off her heels and kissed your cheek as she passed by. As she sprinted down the hallway, your whole body flooded with love, but this time, you did not need to hold it back. After a lifetime of surpressing it, it finally had somewhere to go.

In true crazy fashion, as you sprinted behind her, another idea popped in your head. You wondered if her crazy had run out, or if she was just crazy enough to go along with it.

You thought you ought to try, because the day had been full of pleasant surprises. After all, the worst she could do was say no.

“Hey,” You called out to her, laughing as she looked back at you over her shoulder. “Slow down for a second.” You pleaded, childlike joy reflecting on both of your faces.

“What’s up?” She asked, a little breathless as her feet slowed to a stop. “Please tell me you’re not changing your mind.”

“What? F’course not.” You waved the idea off, knowing it was completely incredulous. “How impulsive are you feeling right now?”

“Considering I just ran away from my own wedding, I’d say very. Why?” She grinned, her fingers lingering over the handle of the back door, ready to flee at a moments notice.

Perhaps she wasn’t impulsive at all, and the idea of staying was harder for her than trying to leave. She was waiting for you to ask, all of this time. Even as she forced herself to marry someone else, all she ever wanted was you.

“Why waste the dress?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. She watched you for a moment, stunned at your words and unsure if she understood.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you began, checking over your shoulder to ensure nobody was looking for her. “Why waste the expensive dress? Marry me instead.” Her eyes widened, but she did not look horrified at the prospect. “I mean, come on. You’re in a wedding dress, I’m in a suit, I can buy flowers anywhere, and I want to be with you so bad I was willing to object the whole thing in the middle of your vows. If it hasn’t changed in twenty years, I’m sure it won’t change tomorrow.”

“A-are you sure? Like, really sure? You won’t regret it in the morning?” She asked, curious if you were in your right mind.

“I wouldn’t regret it in a million years, my love.” You promised. “I promise I’ll do it right, I’ll buy a ring and we’ll do a ceremony when the smoke clears from this disaster.” You both let out a laugh, knowing that’s exactly what it was. “But why waste the dress, especially when we know what we want?”

“Okay, crazy.” She nodded, cracking the door open. “I’ll marry you. Why waste the dress?”

“You mean it?” You followed behind her, noticing the rocks littering the paved lot and her shoeless feet. You reached out, grabbing her arm before she could step outside. She looked at you, then looked down at you taking your shoes off for her to wear. Her cheeks tinged red, a silent thank you dancing in her eyes as she jumped into the shoes that were just a little too large for her. You looked out into the lot, finding your three brothers standing by your car, waiting for you to join them.

“F’course I do, Jake.” She said, giving your hand a squeeze. “Partners in crime, right?” You couldn’t seem to stop the smile from blooming once again.

“Partners in crime.” You confirmed, stepping outside into the warm afternoon air.

“I love you, Jake.” She said, the sun shining down on her beautiful face, illuminating her in the most perfect picture. You wanted to remember this moment forever. “Feels so good to finally say it.”

“I love you, Y/N.” You replied, taking in your surroundings. As you watched the sunlight shine over her face, your heart soared with affection. “Look,” you said, catching her attention. First, she looked to you, then followed your finger to the sky, where she could see the sun had finally broke free from the clouds, shining down without a single thing brave enough to stop it. “The sun is shining after all, sweetheart.”

As if you needed anything else to solidify that you had made the right decision, but the sun shining, eager to carry you home to start over only correctly this time, was enough to assure you of the importance of your choice. As you led her to the car, watching her eyes light up as she greeted your brothers, you were sickened at the idea you ever had a single shred of doubt at all. She was your partner in crime, whether that be at five years old, or eighty, and you were eternally grateful for that fact alone.

[bonesxbows]

Act Naturally - Chapter 1 (Cooper Howard X Reader)

Masterlist

While exploring an old section of Hollywood, the two of you stumble upon an old advertisement for a cowboy movie. But the man on the poster looks suspiciously a lot like Cooper, even down to the same smile. But it couldn't possibly be him...right?

(WARNINGS) - anger issues - negative self talk (from Cooper not you)

I feel like I dragged this on for way longer than it needed to be BUT it's a done thing now and tbh I'm pretty happy with it. I fucking adore soft Cooper moments and idc if I have to write them all myself

Also! This idea came from @land-of-evergreens-and-dye so full credit to them for letting me stew on this prompt

Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Reblogs and comments much appreciated!

Banners by @strangergraphics

The two of you had found yourselves in an old section of Hollywood. It had been so long since Cooper had told you his reason for bringing you here that you’d forgotten what his motivation for this excursion was. Although it didn’t really matter to you, you’d follow him anywhere whether he wanted you to tag along or not. There was no separating you two. Not anymore. 

Most of the buildings had been boring to scavenge through, if you could even find a way inside at all. Not much was left of the boulevard besides dusty sidewalks and rusting billboards. But one building in particular piqued your interest. It had a larger facade than all the rest where small billboard-like signs hung above the wide double doors. Broken and busted bulb lights framed the signs and the rows of black lettering were missing far too many letters to be able to read it clearly. What letters you could make out only baffled you more than the strange-looking building did. 

‘Co - How - Starr - in - Th - M - Fr - Dea - Horse’

“Horse? What’s a horse?” you asked out loud, more to yourself than to him. He usually never listened to your mid-exploring ramblings, though he never did tell you to stop. You turned around to find him staring up at the old sign too, although his brow was creased and a scowl was stuck on his face. You placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned to you, his expression softening as his eyes shifted to looking at you instead. 

“You wanna check inside there, don’ you?” He asked. 

You nodded and gave him a small smile. “Can we? Please? I’ve never seen any place like it before.” 

“Hm. ‘Spose we can. But make it quick alright?” He checked his pistol’s ammunition levels and flipped the barrel back into place once he was satisfied. You led the way forward, pushing the swinging doors inward as Cooper was right behind you, pistol in hand and trigger finger ready. 

He was a little disappointed when the place appeared to be empty. But the feeling didn’t last, he couldn’t stay upset as he watched you scurry around the place, your eyes wide with fascination. The interior was even more astonishing to you than the exterior had been. Rows of folding booth-like chairs covered the majority of the floor, their fabric exterior faded and torn, and in the back of the building was a wooden stage. Ragged old curtains framed the blank wall behind the stage where its faded white paint chipped and peeled off the plaster. There wasn’t much hiding between the rows of chairs besides dust and sand but you still kept your hopes high that the rest of the building would hold something worthwhile. 

“What is this place? Some kind of shooting gallery?” you asked, your wasteland-born intelligence of pre-war places was lacking, but fortunately for you, Cooper liked you enough to fill you in on what knowledge you didn't have. 

He chuckled at your observation. He supposed a shooting gallery was just about the closest thing you could get to a theater these days. “Not ‘xactly, sweetheart. It was used for movies, picture shows, that kinda thing. A place where folks could feign ignorance ‘bout the end of the world fast approachin’ on their heels.” 

“Movies? Like the kind on those busted-up televisions?” you continued to explore around as you talked. He followed you, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary that could be dangerous while you focused on the useful and exciting things you could find. 

“Mmhm. Just like those. Never endin’ loops of fairytale stories kept alive by people long gone by now.” he explained, and you ended the conversation after that. His voice was strained and scruffy, meaning he was either remembering something he wanted to forget or he was getting agitated. Either way, you knew it was in your best interest to stop asking questions. 

Things got progressively more interesting when you discovered the back rooms of the building. The first one had been large, with dusty velvet ropes leading to a counter filled with food machines and nuka-cola dispensers, you’d come back here to scavenge all the food you could carry with you on your way out, but the hallways and storage rooms were what really piqued your attention. 

Posters lined the wooden walls of the hallways, the plaster that had once surrounded them now nothing more than dust on the ground. The paper was old, torn, and extremely faded, even with the lack of sunlight in the place. The color was all but gone from the paper, but you could still make out the words if you squinted hard enough. 

“Cooper Howard Starring in The Man From Dead Horse.” The letters matched up with the ones from outside but yet you were still baffled on what exactly a horse was. The poster had no other information to help clarify, although you found it interesting that the man on the paper supposedly shared your cowboy’s name. 

“Huh.” You exclaimed as you studied the pictures. 

“What?” Cooper called after you, pulling his attention only slightly away from the containers he was looting around the place, looking for spare ammo or anything else that was useful. 

“Nothing. Just something about these posters. Are these about those movies you were talking about?”  you asked, which had him turning around to examine the poster along with you. The only response he gave you was a short grunt, which you knew translated to a yes. You shifted your eyes back to the paper on the wall. Most of the color may have been gone but you could still make out a blue shirt on a man with a white cowboy hat on top of his head. He stood in a pose with his revolver in the air and his other hand on his hip. He wore a smirk on his face that felt familiar and something in the back of your mind itched like you had seen this all before…somewhere. But you couldn't pinpoint the memory. 

When you turned back around Cooper was already gone down the hallway so you hurried to follow him, tearing your eyes from the poster but keeping your mind on the nagging feeling it left you with. Maybe if you turned the picture over in your head enough times the memory you were looking for would click, or so you hoped. 

His attitude had significantly changed after you found that poster. He became more on edge and that gruff exterior he had when you had first met him was back. He rushed through the rest of the building, seemingly not caring if you were behind him or not. By the time you caught up with him, he was shoving his way back out through the swinging front doors. You could see the finger on his pistol’s trigger starting to twitch. You followed him outside and down the road a way until he stopped in front of the first billboard he saw. 

Like everything else in the wasteland, the colors were gone and the picture was faded, but you could clearly tell it had been an advertisement for Vault-Tec before the bombs. Cooper didn’t hesitate to unload every round in his revolver through the billboard. Pieces of wood and metal went flying and you instinctively covered your face, listening to the bullet casings and wood chips hit the concrete around you. He eventually ran out of bullets, although you could still hear him clicking the trigger. Once the gun sounded empty you lowered your arms again, examining the now hole-riddled Vault Boy on the billboard. Cooper’s face still held a nasty scowl. 

“You got a personal vendetta with Vault-Tec I don't know about or something? What just happened?” you asked. If you were anyone else he would have filled you with lead just for asking a question right then and there. He was currently too angry to deal with stupidity. But he would never purposefully hurt you, that was one line he refused to cross in his mind. But unknowingly to you your words only fueled his anger more. 

“Shut it. Let’s go. I’m sick of this place.” he snapped, his usual drawl and accent missing and replaced by venom in his words. He quickened his pace out of the block of streets and you followed him, but you kept your distance to a minimum of a few feet at least for the remainder of the trek. 

It had been a few hours since Cooper’s outburst and the two of you had set up camp for the night inside of an old diner. He had seemed to calm down a little but he had set himself up in the corner of a booth with his hat pulled down over his eyes and his feet kicked up on the table in front of him. Which left you alone with your thoughts in front of his makeshift campfire. You watched the sun sink below the horizon as you replayed the earlier events of the day over and over in your head, still trying to connect the dots. You stared at Cooper, his supposedly sleeping form leaning against the worn material of the diner booth, hoping that if you focused on him hard enough you could will the connection in your mind to click. 

And then the realization hit you like a lightning bolt, your eyes pulling all of the pieces together in front of you as you stared at his hat and the rough skin poking out from underneath it. 

You sprang up from your seat on the ground, sliding yourself into the booth on the other side of the table in front of him. He didn't seem to notice until you reached over and yanked his cowboy hat off of his head with one swift motion. His eyes shot open and immediately landed on you. 

“Can’t a ghoul get some shut-eye ‘round here without you botherin’ him?” he scoffed, pulling himself up into a sitting position and turning to face you across the table. You didn’t respond and instead placed his hat on the table in front of you, staring at him with full intent. He was unbothered underneath your intense gaze, either he was used to being stared at or knew you weren’t much of a threat to him. “I got somethin’ in my teeth or is this a new hobby of yours I don’ know about?” he asked, your silence was irking him more than your constant staring. 

You let your eyes do all the work and your imagination filled in the blanks, pulling both images in your head together; the man from the poster and the man sitting in front of you. His dirty blue shirt peaking out from underneath his duster confirmed your suspicion. 

“You’re him.” was all you said as the realization set in. 

“Pardon?”

“You're him! From the poster earlier! That's why he looked so familiar!” your excitement was getting hard to contain. You had known Cooper was from before the bombs but you hadn’t known he was THAT Cooper Howard. 

“Darlin’, I have no idea what you’re on about. You best forget ‘bout that whole theater ‘fore you go and stir up trouble.” he told you, folding his arms in front of him on the table as his brow darkened his eyes. 

“What’s the big deal, Coop? Why didn’t you tell me? Is that why you rushed out of there so quickly?” you spoke quickly, the questions flooding out of your mouth faster than you had intended. 

“Hmph. ‘What’s the big deal?’ The ‘big deal’ is that man is dead. Has been for over 200 years. I ain’t keen on bringin’ him back neither. His optimism and gullibility got him killed and that was the end of that. I’m done rememberin’ the sorry excuse I got for a past. Reminiscing don’ keep you alive for long.” his western accent was tangled together with poison as he spat out his words. But his scary looks didn’t work on you anymore. 

“Maybe, but you’re still him, Coop. You’ve adapted to the wasteland but you’re still you. Roughed up and scarred a little, sure, but who isn’t?” you told him, doing your best to keep your voice soft to combat his spitefulness. 

“A little? Sweetheart, I’m a damn monster, everyone out ‘ere thinks so. Whatever was left of good ol’ Cooper Howard died when this here skin started fallin’ off. I’m done bein’ nice in a world that does nothin’ but kicks you when you’re down.” 

“I don’t think you're a monster.” 

It was one sentence, just a few words, but it made him pause. His scowl vanished for a few seconds and was replaced by a look of confusion. There was a small smile tugging at his lips too, if you were quick enough to notice it before it was gone. He sighed and leaned back against the booth. 

“Well then that’s one hell of a lapse of judgment on your part sweetheart.” he hooked his hands together and put them behind his head, cradling the back of his neck as he closed his eyes again and leaned further into the booth. But you weren't done with the conversation just yet. 

You got up, grabbed his hat off of the table, and shifted yourself into the booth he was sitting in. You looked at him and then looked down at his hat in your hands. A relic from over two centuries ago, covered in sand and caked in dirt. But still a working and functioning cowboy hat. It protected its wearer from the harsh sun and there was a sense of safety woven somewhere in between the fibers. Broken and beaten and even dirtied beyond repair, it was still a hat. And Cooper was still a person. 

You climbed on top of the table, being careful not to accidentally kick him with your feet as you positioned yourself in front of him and placed a leg on either side of his body. You placed his hat in its rightful place on top of his head, making him open his eyes again when he felt your touch. He looked up at you curiously, fully not expecting you to be on the table in front of him. You reached down and grabbed both of the lapels of his duster, balling the fabric up in your fists as you pulled him forward and smashed your lips into his. You were quick with your movements, something you had learned from being around Cooper so much recently, which left little to no time for him to react or protest against your sudden affection. 

Although he didn't seem to mind. His hands found their way to your hips almost automatically and he slipped them under your shirt, grabbing at your soft skin roughly. Tomorrow morning you would have bruises all over your hips in the shape of his fingertips, but it happened so often now that the purples and blues were a permanent part of you. You had started this impromptu makeout session but he was determined to finish it. His tongue worked fervidly like he was mapping the constellations in the night sky across the inside of your mouth. He never once gave you the chance to take the lead and he was as quick as a viper to wrangle back control when you tried to take it yourself. At some point he had shifted his hands underneath you and scooped you off the table, sliding you right into his lap while still keeping a strong grip on you, never once slowing down with his tongue. Your legs were forced to wrap around him, your bodies now flush against each other in the booth. 

It wasn’t long after he had pulled you closer that you had to pull away, panting and taking gulps of air. You finally let go of his jacket as you leaned back against the table, feeling the metal edge digging into your back as you did so. 

“You know for a so-called ‘monster’ you sure know how to make someone feel breathless.” You told him as you admired the way he was smirking at you. Ironically it was the exact same smirk from that old poster of him, although you noticed he had shifted from that old-school charming look to now one that held an aura of danger around him. 

“Hm. Well, now I’ve never been the type to pass up an opportunity when it’s handed to me. ‘Specially if it ends with somethin’ pretty sittin’ in my lap.” his grip on your hips was still ironclad as his eyes raked over you. His stare felt similar to a hunter stalking its prey. You knew what he was doing, trying to convince himself he was right by acting like a predator, but you knew the truth underneath the facade. You had seen firsthand how he had cared for you and looked after you even when he stood to gain nothing in return. 

“Whether the old Cooper is dead or not doesn’t change the fact that I love this, right here, right now. Whatever led to you being my cowboy, I wouldn’t change a thing.” you ran your fingers up his chest as you spoke, fiddling your way underneath the collar of his cowboy costume to run your fingertips along the raised edges of his scarred skin. He sat back and let you touch him, not making any move to try and stop you. He’d let you do anything your little heart desired. He was your cowboy, he knew that, and yet two hundred years ago he would have never imagined meeting someone like you. He’d be damned if he would let anything happen to you, you were the only good thing he had left in this fucked up world. He refused to let anything else be taken from him. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he mumbled as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, relishing in the way the soft cartilage felt against his marred fingertips. He ran the very tip of his finger against the edge of your ear, earning a tilt of your head as a response to the sensation. 

“Cooper?” you asked, making his eyes flick to yours. He noticed you had pulled your hand out from under his shirt and instead, you had placed it on top of his chest, mindlessly fumbling with the ancient fringe attached to the front. 

“Hm?” 

“I still have one question,” you told him, knitting your brows together in curiosity. 

“I’m listenin’.” he had been so enraptured by your affection that he had no idea what to anticipate, especially when your face had turned so serious. 

“What even is a horse, anyway?”

It took him a great deal of effort to stifle his laughter. 

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Found my way back to you

A/N: Something for our CACW broken and sad boi Tony? Written for @fandom-free-bingo Here ya go. Special mention to @nicoline1998enilocin for proofreading, love you girl 💛 Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger! F! Reader (our reader has Falcon-like abilities and Red Wing as well)

Warnings: Angst, hurt comfort.

Word count: 4.3k ish

Square filled: “Please don’t go.”

Fandom Free Bingo Masterlist

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“Please don’t go.”

You weren’t sure you heard it at first as the voice seemed fainter than a whisper. Collecting your forgotten phone from the conference table, you were almost out the door when you heard him speak. Tony Stark sat at the far end of the table, nursing a glass of whiskey, his eyes downcast and shoulders drooped. There was a pleading in his voice that you couldn’t turn down.

Ever since Pepper left him for good, Tony had been heading towards a steady downfall of self-destruction. He was never one to talk but the team knew it, you knew it. You silently prayed that he would seek help and not be so stubborn for once. But you knew better than to push your teammate.

“What happened today, Tony?” Grabbing the nearest chair, you slid into it and waited for Tony to speak. You frowned as he took in a deep breath, as if preparing himself to relive whatever he was about to say.

“I met a lady named Miriam Sharpe today at MIT. She had a son, Charles Spencer. Great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia. He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” he raised his eyes to meet yours finally, guilt and regret swimming in them, almost drowning his soul with it. Pressing your lips in a thin line, you remained silent. How does one process this kind of information anyway?

“He would have been working at Intel come fall. And now…She blames me, Y/N. And she’s right. I blame myself. I created Ultron. It’s my fault.” his voice was so low, you had to strain to hear. You could see his guilty conscience eating him alive, and your heart broke for the man.

“It’s not all your fault, Tony. We all share responsibility for what happened in Sokovia. Could we have done without the blood-thirsty artificial intelligence that threatened an extinction-level genocide? Sure. But you have to stop blaming yourself for Ultron. We got him, he’s gone. The world is safe again, the Avengers made sure of that. You made sure of that, remember?” you reached out to place your hand over his, he didn’t resist, instead he gave you a small nod indicating he understood your point before offering you a small but grateful smile. Your words provided him comfort, temporary though, yet he was battling a world of obsessive thoughts on the inside.

Excusing yourself, you headed out the room once more, only for Tony to grab your attention once again.

“The world is only safe until the next big threat, Y/N. And then what? Another conference where I meet another parent of yet another child that didn’t deserve to die? We need to be kept in check.” he muttered assertively, downing the rest of his glass before heading out the door himself. Leaving you to ponder over his words that somehow rang true the more you gave it a thought.

.

“So you’re really going to leave huh?” Clint Barton knocked on your door softly before he made his way to your room, followed closely by Natasha Romanov.

“Yep. I’m really leaving.”

You were packing the last of your suitcases, cramming one of the many photo frames that held a picture of you with the team. A Midgardian suit-clad Thor stood tallest brandishing his humongous glass of beer, right next to Steve, Nat and Clint; Tony had decided to go for dramatics as he laid down in front of all of you, his suit jacket discarded as he laughed pointing at Bruce who had just spilled his drink down his shirt - all thanks to Red Wing - your trusted device that you secretly used for a jump scare. It was worth it. Taken at one of Stark’s parties, everybody looked happy, less frown lines, less stress. Good old days, you thought.

“That was a good night.” Clint chuckled, pointing at the picture and making you nod in agreement.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Natasha pulled you in for a hug, making you tear up in the process. She didn’t try and convince you to stay, she was probably the only one who truly understood why you chose to step away, even if she didn’t agree with the decision.

“I’ll miss you too, Nat. More than you know. You too Legolas. Don’t die on us.” you chuckled after hugging Clint. The nickname Tony gave just sort of stuck around, and it irritated Clint the most which is why you always chose to call him that. Both of them were the closest thing to family around here for you.

“I feel like I’m probably gonna be the only one who miraculously survives, Y/L,N.”

“Seriously though, be careful you guys. I have a feeling this is not going to end well.” you added, zipping up the last of your bags. Saying their final goodbyes, they left you alone.

Your room was now empty, all packed up into boxes, the space looked smaller somehow, even though it wasn’t. It was time for you to start a new chapter of your life and close this one. It came with unfinished business but you chose to move on. Whatever moving on from a superhero life meant.

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“Please don’t go.”

Those three words rang in your ears months after they were uttered. As much as your heart wrenched, you had to leave, it was time.

The Sokovia Accords lay on the polished oak table, bringing dreadful silence across the room. It was hard to believe what your world had come to, and yet here it was. A choice. A choice that nobody benefitted from, except maybe the government. The accords meant that the Avengers would no longer function as an independent association, instead, the government would control and track their moves and influence their decisions. Not signing them would be considered as retirement, so there was no easy way out of it.

Did you agree with them? Absolutely not. Was it necessary? Probably. What shocked you most was that Tony Stark had agreed to comply, in fact he was coaxing each and every one to sign the papers. You knew what was about to happen. And you knew where you stood.

It didn’t make sense for you to stay anymore.

So you left. Retired as the government had you call it. And Tony tried to stop you, once. He assumed you would fight by his side no matter what. And for a brief moment, so did you. You wanted to be by his side, however, what Thaddeus Ross had asked of you was simply unacceptable. You could never live with your freedom taken away from you like that. It wasn’t regulation, it was manipulation and you couldn’t believe Tony for siding with it. It broke your heart.

And so with that broken heart, you fled town. Bought yourself a country home and a small farm with animals, you made a good life for yourself. A life so distinctly different from the one you previously had. No fights, no aliens dropping from the skies, no threats, but no Avengers either. And more importantly, no Tony.

It came as a huge shock the day King T’Chaka was killed in Vienna, and the terrorist later identified as The Winter Soldier only was going to make matters worse, you knew that.

A part of you felt guilty for leaving, while another part was relieved to be away from it all. The constant tug of war gave you several sleepless nights. The main cause for those was the fact that you left without saying goodbye to Tony. You wondered if he hated you for it. He probably did. The two of you were…complicated to say the least. The nature of your relationship was never clear, it came with baggage, one you were more than willing to carry before you were presented with the Accords. There wasn’t much left to say when Tony Stark became spokesperson for regulating and controlling the Avengers under the government’s shadow. Arguments seemed futile when the man was determined on what needed to be done to keep the team in check.

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An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That's dead. Forever. - Helmut Zemo

Tony Stark was a man left wounded by many battles, some he drew upon himself, others he didn’t. The Sokovia Accords had caused a schism in the Avengers, a public feud with Steve Rogers and those he trusted at an airport in Germany. He had now the burden of involving a child in the fight, and the fact that he almost lost his best friend. Rhodey was built an exoskeleton to aid him in walking after he recovered, that was the least Tony could do. Although James never blamed him for anything, deep down it cut him that he was responsible for most of mayhem caused.

And then there was you.

You had left the team, left him without a goodbye. Disappeared one night without a trace. Tony felt abandoned by the one person he had hoped would never leave, and yet you had. He had had many sleepless nights thinking about you, hoping that one day maybe out of the blue you would come back and explain yourself.

And now you were gone.

.

Tony,

I’m glad you’re back at the compound. I don’t like the idea of you rattling around a mansion all by yourself. We all need family.

The Avengers are yours, maybe even more so than mine. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith is in people, I guess. Individuals. And, I’m happy to say that for the most part, they haven’t let me down. Which is why I can’t let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn’t.

I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I’m sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand.

I wish we agreed on the accords, I really do. I know you’re doing what you believe in, and that’s all any of us can do. That’s all any of us should do.

So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us—if you need me—I’ll be there. The team may be scattered for now but I believe if and when the time comes, we will assemble as one. And it’s probably not my place to say this but, Y/N stepping down certainly does not mean she’s no longer with the team. She is out doing what she always dreamt of, living a normal life. Something all of us wish for every now and then. I hope you guys work it out someday. Take care, Tony.

Tony stared at the letter after reading it for the fourth time, the flip phone that came with it still in his hands. His mind invariably wandered to the last bit of Steve’s message. You.

Over the past few years, Tony had come to realize how integral you were, not just to the team and your contribution but to his life too. He had on many occasions found himself seeking you out for a chat, it always made his heavy heart just a little lighter. From the moment you joined the Avengers, you had intrigued Tony Stark. He admired you for your abilities, you were more capable than you were given credit for, you were compassionate, kind and a team player. You never said much but whenever you did, you always knew the right things to say, especially to Tony.

He recalled many occasions where you had leant a listening ear when he had wanted to rant, provided a logical solution when things seemed to get out of hand. He would never forget the comfort you provided when Pepper left him. You were there, holding his hand, hugging him tight when he asked to be left alone, knowing how much he needed a human touch. He didn’t fight it, instead he had let himself be held by you, by arms that provided safety, touches that soothed him and words that rendered all the uncertainties silent.

And yet you had left the compound without a word, or maybe without a conversation with him. It angered and worried him in equal parts.

The more he thought about it, the clearer the picture became of your possible whereabouts. One particular conversation stood out indicating where he might find you, memories of that evening brought a smile to his face as he recalled.

“Farm animals, definitely. I will get myself an alpaca, call her Ms Brain.”

“Are you serious?” you giggled, looking at Tony incredulously. The man was always full of surprises. You were lying on your backs on the compound lawn, it had been a particularly eventful day. Tony found you out here all by yourself, staring up at the gray sky. Getting him to lie down with you wasn’t easy but you managed, bribing him with his favorite whiskey later.

“What about you, Y/L/N?”

“Hmm..Let’s see. I want a huge backyard where I will grow my veggie garden, make the most delicious foods, and have a cat since I’ve always wanted one. Somewhere peaceful and quiet, away from the city, of course. Some place that’ll show me actual stars instead of these twinkling airplane lights, you know?” you murmured, chuckling as a plane flew right above, its red lights mixing with the gray smoke and clouds before it disappeared, effectively making its point.

Tony remained silent, turning his head towards you so he could see your face, your eyes still focused on the sky, he gazed at you fondly. Admiring you for having the courage to dream of a different life so freely, something he used to be able to do but now it all seemed too far off.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Y/N?” Tony murmured, reaching his pinky finger out to entwine with yours.

“I’m just picturing you on a farm with Ms. Brain on a leash.” You smiled looking down at your hands.

“Do you think about running away from it all?”

“All the time.” Tony replied promptly, turning his body to face you as you did the same.

“What stops you from doing it then?”

As if on cue, his phone rang, disturbing the quiet of the moment. He murmured a ‘that’ under his breath before sitting up to answer it, thereby ending your little heart-to-heart.

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It was a lovely spring morning when you awoke. Your usual wake up call was meowing his way up your bed, demanding to be fed. Once the cat had his fill, you made yourself a cup of coffee and breakfast and went about your day.

Your life out here was simple, just the way you wanted it to be. Your savings had bought you a decent sized house with a large enough backyard garden for you to grow your veggies - something you always dreamt of having. The difference was so stark, it took you a while to adjust to this new life. But eventually you did. The peace and quiet it brought you was indescribable. But that didn’t mean you didn’t miss your Avenger life. To be more specific you missed the team, mostly Tony Stark.

You felt horrible for leaving without notice, especially after finding out about the fight that took place in Germany. You often found yourself wondering how he was dealing with everything. Did he have anybody by his side? You knew the answer to that. Did he get back with Pepper Potts? You didn’t want to find out the answer to that.

As evening rolled by, you poured yourself a glass of wine and got started on dinner, hearing a sharp knocking sound on your door right after. Frowning, you wiped your hands on a napkin and went to open it. You weren’t expecting anyone.

On the other side of the door stood the man you least expected to find, and yet the same man you were hoping to find all this time.

Tony Stark.

He wasn’t the Tony Stark you recognized. No. He seemed different, and not in a good way. His face was still the same, handsome, striking and yet it lacked the usual charisma. There were several bruises decorated all over his face, some healed, others on their way but definitely promised to leave a permanent mark. Words had escaped your vocabulary as you stood there dumbfounded, until he cleared his throat.

“Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re um, you’re here.”

He gave you a nod, grateful that you stepped out of the way to let him in, still trying to process. Red Wing flew in after him, having scanned him for being a potential threat. It was a habit you couldn’t shake off, even in retirement, you were prepared for the unexpected.

“You turned Red Wing into a bellboy? You should’ve left with Dum-E, he would’ve been the perfect lawn mower.”

He made you chuckle, immediately reminding you of the Tony you had missed all these months. A part of you was relieved to see him, your heart beating with excitement now that there seemed a possibility that he was here to see you.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

He shook his head in a no, explaining he had had too much coffee before, his trembling fingers spoke for themselves. Wordlessly, you made your way towards the kitchen, putting on a kettle of water to make him a cup of chamomile tea instead.

“Will you stay for dinner? I was only just getting started.” you offered, taking his noncommittal shrug as a yes.

He seemed to be busy digesting your new home, the surroundings that now glowed under the light of the setting sun. Your cat jumped out from his hiding spot, greeting Tony by walking between his legs, rubbing his scent over him, already claiming the man as his.

“He’s never that friendly with anyone.” you pointed out, smiling a little when Tony bent down to scratch him behind his ears, causing a cat to purr in appreciation. You brought him a cup of piping hot tea which he accepted wordlessly, taking a seat on your couch where you joined him. Several moments of silence passed where you watched him blow on the hot liquid before taking a small sip.

“You left without saying goodbye to me.”

Tony’s words fell on your ears but cut right through your heart. You should’ve been prepared for this to come up.

“Would you have stopped me from going, Tony?”

“No. Probably. I–I would’ve wanted you to stay and fight back, Y/N.”

You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head at the thought.

“Fight you, you mean? You know I was never going to sign those Accords. I was not going to fight by your side, Tony. You knew that.” your voice shook as you spoke, getting up from your seat and heading back to your kitchen, you put some distance between the two of you.

“Then you should’ve fought me! Anything was better than leaving unannounced, Y/N.”

His words made you turn around, his eyes shone under the candlelight, burning with embers of unanswered questions. You stood quiet, your breathing shallow now.

“Clearly I didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Is that what you think? You’re wrong, Tony. It’s because you meant the most to me, Tony. I couldn’t say goodbye to you because if I had, I wouldn’t have survived. And I couldn’t stay. So forgive me for running away, alright? I took the easiest choice at hand because the alternative was just too damn difficult.” you had a few tears strayed down your cheek by the time you finished, your heart now pounding wildly against your ears as you stood gripping the dining chair so tight your knuckles had turned white.

Tony sat still for a while, his brain comprehending your words before a hint of a smile made its way on his face, a sense of temporary relief - something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something inside of him had led him here, the longing to see your face, questions that needed answers, the loneliness he felt that only grew more and more once everything that could go wrong went wrong. And yet, as he sat here after finding you, his heart felt lighter. Like he had made the right choice in what felt like forever.

“You haven’t asked why I am here.” he murmured, turning his attention back to the cup of tea in his hands.

“Wasn’t it to donate Dum-E to be my trusted lawn mower?” you jested, taking a seat on the chair you were previously clutching.

“I found out it wasn’t a car accident that killed my parents. They were murdered. By James Buchanan Barnes.” Tony stared ahead, gripping the cup tightly in his hands as he spoke.

“Oh my God, Tony…”

“And Rogers knew. He knew, Y/N.” he whispered, the anguish and hurt in his voice evident. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The Avengers having a difference of opinion was one thing, but this piece of information was enough to cause a definitive crack, you knew that.

“It wasn’t Barnes, Tony. It was the Winter Soldier, he was being controlled.”

“They’re still dead.”

That made you understand he wasn’t looking for a logical explanation, at least not now. What he needed was comfort. Without another word, you made your way back over to the couch, placing your hand on Tony’s back to let him know you were there for him.

“I almost lost Rhodey. I saw him fall to his death from the sky, Y/N. I couldn’t make it to him in time. And now our team is scattered. Gone. All because I–”

“Because of the Accords, and a difference of opinion, Tony.” you shifted closer, placing the cup away to grab his hands in yours.

“But I signed them. I failed.” his words broke your heart, unshed tears now made their way into his eyes as he tried his best not to break down in front of you.

“Hey, it’s okay, Tony. We’ll figure it out, like we always do, right? It’s okay, come here.”

Wrapping him in a hug, you held him close to you as he broke down, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable. He held onto the light sweater you wore like you would disappear in his grasp, shoulders burdened heavy now shaking in silent tears as months, maybe years of pent up and unaddressed feelings resurfaced.

“Shh. You’re okay, Tony. Let it out, I’ve got you.” You carded your fingers through his hair softly, blinking your own tears away.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Tony. I should have been there for the team, for you. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head slightly, the movement a little difficult with his head safely tucked against your chest. After his tears subsided, you clasped his hand and led him upstairs to draw him a bath.

Tony Stark hadn’t known what it felt to have someone else care for him in a long time. He didn’t allow himself to be vulnerable the way he had now, because for the first time in forever, he knew felt safe. Safe enough to show his scars, his wounds. As you wordlessly undressed him, your eyes scanned the bruises littered across his skin, old scars and new. Your fingers traced them delicately before you nudged him to step inside the tub while you sat out. He needed this more than you at that moment.

The warm water healed his sore muscles, the ache that had settled deep within them slowly slipped out as your hands massaged the knots away. There was no way he could express how thankful he was for you in words. He chose to express it all with a kiss instead.

Right after you were done washing his hair, he held your hand to pull you closer to the edge of the tub, his gaze lowered as his face inched closer to yours.

As your lips met, you felt yourself melt against him. There was still a lot to work through but for now, you let yourself be lost in Tony Stark. All of him. You let him consume your senses. He was all that mattered.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Hmm?”

Your question seemed irrelevant, you probably guessed it had been a while since the man got a good night’s rest. Now that you were out in your backyard, lying on a soft blanket you’d brought out to watch the night sky. Tony held on to your hand, placing it right over his chest where his arc reactor once was.

Several stars twinkled in the inky black sky, a visual you had missed in the city life. You remembered the nights you laid out here alone, rethinking past choices. You were content then, but you only understood peace now. There was no one else you would rather be here with than Tony.

His heart was beating steadily against your hand, his breath calm, features relaxed. This was the Tony you knew and loved.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I found my way back to you.”