#so i need to buy more paper and more envelopes as well

[ishikawayukis]

trying to write a heartfelt letter for a friend and i had to fight the urge to make silly little jokes every other sentence (i failed)

[bunnys-kisses]

the jailbird

prisoner!simon 'ghost' riley

a full fic based on this post

cw: prison!au, civilian!reader, pen-pals, smut,romance/romantic!simon, domestic, missonary, wife kink, size kink, nudity, tattoo kink, body worship, cuddling

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own! reblogs are always welcomed!

it started out as a flyer at the bus stop near your house. it was for a service that connected prisoners at a nearby prison with civilians as pen-pals. you had seen the flyer often over the course of work as you went to work.

you honestly felt bad, those people must be isolated. the organization prided itself on giving prisoners a bit of their humanity back by not cutting them off from those on the outside. so on a rainy friday you took a photo of the flyer and filled out the form on the organization's website.

that was how you met simon riley, or as he was called on the inside 'ghost'. what caught your attention wasn't his face scar that ran from under his nose down to the left side of his chin, but rather his brown eyes. how intense they stared into the camera. it was almost intimidating.

but you kept the photo on your desk as you typed out your first letter to send to him. you heard of places who did it through email, but screen time for those could often be limited and to send a physical letter would ensure that it would be sent to them.

the letter started out simple, you asked how he was and if it was okay to ask what he was in prison for. you asked him other questions, like if his health was doing well, what did he do most days while on the inside. you ended the letter with a little information about yourself.

you thought it would be nice to take a few photos and print them out on photo paper to be included with your letter. just so he had a better idea of who he was talking about. once you tweaked the letter with a bit of editing, you printed it out and thanks to the Royal Mail, your letter was sent to him.

you didn't actually expect for him to respond. nor did you expect for the letter to be do detailed. it was almost three pages double sided in neat hand writing. your eyes went wide when you saw the thickness of the envelope with the stamp of approval from the prison for it to be sent to you.

simon sent you a bracelet made of string that had been braided together. he said you were the first person from the outside to reach out since he got locked up. that broke your heart. it only broke further the more you read.

he was a military man who was tossed aside once the ptsd got too intense. he had been between jobs, and it felt like everything was just too much for him. he got wrapped up in large scale theft, while it paid good, you could only rob so many banks before it all caught up. he had been in for three years now, he was thankful it wasn't a life sentence. not much was stolen, and there was minimal violence. he said that his stature alone intimidated enough people that he didn't need to be violent.

you re-read his letters and it wouldn't be until almost six months of speaking that you finally wore the bracelet. when he said, "i want to see you in it, since i can't buy you a ring." you sent a photo of you wearing it and since then you hadn't taken it off.

the letters were nice, you sent them at least twice a week. even though you two had never met face to face, and the only photos you had of him were mugshots, he knew all the gossip in your work place. he knew the names of all your friends, your favourite saturday night treat and how you took your coffee.

he told you he'd be happy to make you coffee every morning before you went to work. that comment made your cheeks burn.

he often called you his 'wife' to the other prisoners. he had your photos on the wall near his bunk. he even kept the pictures where you looked terrible after you tried to cut your bangs one night. he knew the exact location of where your favourite take out was. he said that he was writing down ideas of where to take you once he got out. "i gotta make the missus feel special."

he even made you a birthday card. his cellmate 'soap' even signed it. you knew all about the explosives expert mactavish. when you looked into his case on the news, your eyes went a little wide. this guy was.. something.

simon did admit that 'soap' had a bit of a crush on you. but he said that 'johnny' was harmless and probably just liked the photo of a woman in the cell.

"he hurt ya, there will be no cell that could keep me from killin' him. no god either."

simon remembered everything.

the way he spoke about you and to you in his letters were nothing but soft. while he had to put on a tough guy exterior, his letters were filled with gentle words. like when he wrote out that he loved you in big text on a spare piece of paper so you could tape it on your mirror to look at every morning.

"i want to be what you get ready to."

"i want to be with you when you wake up."

"i want to come home to you every night. please make me an honest man."

you knew he was a trained killer. he was in special forces before his brief stint as a criminal. he was trained to kill, but in the margins of your letters, his love shined through. despite it all, he was capable of love.

and he wanted to pour all that love into you, his (future) wife.

you two would go on to write letters every week, for almost two years. when you got the letter from him asking if he could put you down as a permanent address when he got out, you cried. of course!

it was a cold spring morning, the sky was misty as you stood outside the gates of the prison. your heart raced, you even arrived early in the hopes he'd be released sooner.

and then you saw him.

those eyes. hard and stern, until he caught sight of you. his shoulder visibly dropped and his pace quickened as he made his way towards you. before you could step forward to meet him, he had you in his arms. his strong arms, littered with tattoos, wrapped around you as he held you close to his strong chest.

you held onto him as the air left your chest from the force he held you. you clutched onto his shoulders and choked out a sob. you squeaked, "holy shit."

he pulled away from you, but still kept you in his arms. you swore you saw minimal mistiness in his eyes. he reached to cup your face. he said quietly, "soft... like i imagined."

you beamed up at him, "of course, si."

"your voice is so nice." he groaned as he then pulled you close once more and buried his nose in your hair. he inhaled the scent of your shampoo and relaxed, "i'm home."

you thought transitioning from being the only person in the flat, to having this hulking, strong man in your home as well, was going to be a bit hard. but that didn't matter when simon got you through the door. his hands were on you, he promised on the universe that he'd romance you tomorrow.

but tonight was just going to be the two of you.

you managed to get his hands off you in order to get your shoes off before you led him to your bedroom. he was close behind you, he had a hand on one of your hips. he wanted to be as close to you as he could, you two had spent enough time apart.

you couldn't even close the bedroom door before he was pulling at the waistband on your pants. his calloused, strong hands felt delicate on you. it was like he was going to break you and he had to be as delicate as possible.

"si."

"i know, darling." he said quietly as he started to undress you. with your help the both of you were soon nude in the afternoon light in your bedroom. you tried to cover your chest with your arms but he pulled your arms away and looked at you.

your eyes met and you got up on your tip-toes to kiss him gently on the lips. soon he picked you up like you weighed less than a bag of potatoes.

he placed you on the bed gently when you half expected him to toss you like a shot-put. he admired your body down on your soft covers and soon got onto the bed too.

you reached for him as he pulled you into a tight kiss. his lips were chapped and you could tease the fresh skin underneath. your nails raked at his strong back, that you knew was covered in tattoos.

you wrapped your legs around him and held him. from a moment he dropped to his side and you two held each other. you tucked his head under your chin as you laid together naked.

it wasn't even meant to be sexually stimulating, you both just wanted to feel one another. to hear your lover's heartbeat meant more to you than anything in that moment.

you kissed the top of his head, you felt his blond hair against your face as you soaked in his warmth. you could almost cry from how nice it felt to be so close to him.

after everything, you had your man.

he said in his low tone, "you feel so soft. after everything, i have you. you made every day in the can worth it." he sighed, "thank you." he kissed at your bare chest.

you replied, "i loved your letters, i have them still." you chuckled, "i didn't want to throw any of them away. it made me feel closer."

"well. i'm not goin' anywhere." he looked up at you and smiled, "you're home and i'm finally here." he pulled away and got him between your legs. he rested on his knees and carefully moved you to his liking. he sat there between your legs and waited for your command.

you looked at him and nodded, "yeah, si. you can go." then tightened your legs around your lover. you held your breath as he slowly pushed his cock into you. you didn't realize how big it was until he was fully inside of you.

"are you alright, love?"

"golden."

the two of you moved together. it took a little bit to get used to the size, but the pressure and speed of his movements made heat spread through your body. like two pieces of the same puzzle, you fit together perfect soon after. it was like you two were always meant to be.

you felt so loved by him, it was so sweet. this was your first time with him and you only had a few sexual experiences with others prior to him. but the entire time you knew each other you didn't sleep with others, you wanted to wait for your man.

"that's my good wife." he groaned as he held onto your hips, "i know, you wanted this for a long time. i bet you thought about me when i was locked up."

you blushed and replied, "i did, si. i thought about you all the time, i even had your picture in my office. i wanted this, i wanted to be with you!" you whined a little as his cock dragged against a sensitive spot.

he chuckled softly, "yeah. i thought about my missus when i was locked up. i used to jerk off to your letters, your photos. messed one of 'em up by gettin' my spunk all over it." he licked his lips, "but now i can see it every day in person."

you smiled when he rested his body against you and continued to thrust up into you. you felt the curl of pleasure of your gut get together which each of his heavy thrusts.

the kisses you shared were intimate and hot. the air of your bedroom was warmed as you made love on the bed you would share together. your soft noises together filled the air.

you clenched onto him, you dug your nails into his shoulders. they were so strong and broad that they were much bigger than your hands.

he kissed you one last time as he quickened his pace. the bed moved against your movements as you both climaxed at the same time. it was like a shock to the system, the heightened euphoria before your head felt full of cotton.

you let out a soft groan as your grip on his loosened and you relaxed into the bed. you felt yourself partially get crushed by your lover but he gave a few more earnest thrusts as he made sure that his cum shot to the back of your womb.

he pulled out and dropped beside you. he tucked some hair behind your ear and wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand. your breathing was heavy, but you were both so happy. to share your first time together felt so special.

you nestled yourself into his arms and held his hand. you exhaled contently then said, "my husband."

he kissed the top of your head, he felt complete, "my missus."

part two

[inkedbybarnes]

be your date

bodyguard!bucky barnes x actress!fem!reader

summary: you are invited to this year's met gala, and your bodyguard is against the idea of letting you go alone.

word count: 500+

warnings: 18+ mdni. nothing sexual, but still. some banters. hints of fluff. a sprinkle of tension. grumpy but protective bucky (yes, that is a warning!) sort of bratty reader? lack of met gala knowledge probably. usage of petnames such as princess. lowercase writing.

photos used are only for aesthetic and not to describe or visualise the reader!

note: just a little drabble to the story/plot i've been writing! since there was recently a met gala, i thought this would be a great tease for this story. i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you shouldn't go.”

as a celebrity, privacy was a rare luxury, and having your personal life being constantly invaded became your new norm.

it also meant having a personal bodyguard to keep you safe, but no one ever warned you about having a bodyguard who was both relentlessly protective and unbelievably attractive with a permanent frown on his face.

god, would it be so bad to have a crush on your bodyguard?

“you can't tell me what to do, you know that right?” you shot him a defiant look, although you knew he wasn't trying to control you, just keeping you safe.

getting a reaction other than a grunt from him was your favourite hobby, anyway.

a delivery was found on your doorstep this morning, containing an invitation and a bouquet of flowers. bucky was beside you as you opened the envelope, and immediately, he was against the idea.

“what even is the met gala?” he eyed the invitation you were holding, brow furrowed while he looked offended by the piece of paper. “it doesn't sound safe.”

bucky had learned about the letters that you would constantly receive, and how half of them were unusual and even concerning. you could still remember the frown he had kept all day when you received a marriage certificate in need of your signature.

he made sure to burn it by the fireplace.

and grunted at it one more time.

“nothing sounds safe to you, jamie.” you argued, rolling your eyes at his protectiveness. you slipped the card back into its envelope, unaware of the faint flush that spread across his face as he heard you call him by the nickname you've given him.

“it's a ball that a bunch of celebrities go to every year, but i don't really find it that special. my manager thinks otherwise though.” you explained. “and i do have to go alone if i'm attending it since it's really private. they even prohibited phones inside, so it should be safe.”

“i don't buy it.” bucky pursed his lips, remaining unconvinced. “i'm coming with you.”

“they won't let you inside. they treat this ball as a highly exclusive event. even bodyguards are off the list. i find it silly as well, don't worry.” you sighed, recalling how uncomfortable it was every time. you had no choice since your manager called it good publicity and a necessity for your career. “oh, unless i bring a date. i could probably sneak them in as a plus one. they love seeing a new pair to spark conversation. do you have anyone you trust enough to be with me so you can calm down?”

you waited for his response, but instead of answering, bucky took a step towards you, his gaze intense and unwavering. he looked at you with such intensity, making butterflies flutter in your stomach that none of your co-stars could do to you.

“i'll be your date.”

your eyes widened in surprise. was he serious? “what?"

"you asked me who i trust enough to be with you." he repeated, his face now inches away from yours, a faint smile dancing across his face. “well, princess. that person would be me."

i may have changed reader from sunshine to confident/bratty because i genuinely can't write a sunshine character without giving up... i'm not the best with jolly emotions. i think it still worked out tho!

oh, and here's a silly lil instagram post. thank you for reading!

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[p0ckykiss]

to the moon and back - choi soobin

summary -> who is sending you these letters….they certainly know everything about you, more than you expected. perhaps a stalker?

warnings -> stalker soobin x female reader, yandere

the crinkling of the perfectly sealed envelope and the unfolding of the delicate paper with the most intricate handwriting. swoops and swerves and strokes marked with the darkest ink.

a secret admirer? you smirked to yourself. it sure was such a flattering thought to think you had a secret admirer. you began reading the beautifully crafted words.

dear y/n.

your beauty simply astonishes me. i want to run my fingertips along your smooth bare face and breathe in the scent of your lavender perfume. you’re running low on it, have you noticed? make sure to buy more. it’s simply my favorite scent in the world. the lasagna you made last night looked scrumptious. would you save a piece for me? you’re the most beautiful girl i have ever come across. love you to the moon and back.

a gasp. what in god’s name..? that certainly did not live up to your high expectations. the paper floated to the pavement like a snowflake falling from the sky. your shoes smacked against your long driveway as you bounded up to the front door.

the click of the lock and the shuffle of curtains closing all around the empty house. you grabbed your perfume bottle and threw it down. the glass pieces scattered across the dark hardwood floor, reflections from the sunlight cascading off of the tiny fractures.

lavender isn’t your scent any longer. not after some creep told you it was his favorite. were you being watched? what a creep. an actual stalker. just the thought sent a shiver down your aching spine.

days passed. nothing out of the ordinary seemed to make it’s presence known. no unwanted letters or mysterious envelopes with a pearly white lace trim. you actually allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. you should’ve known to hold your breath

dearest y/n

oh how i’ve missed that sweet perfume of yours. are you sure you got all of the shards? they were quite plentiful. has that cut healed yet? i’d be more than willing to aid you back to good health. i know you keep the bandages under your bathroom sink. do you know i’m always thinking of you? that black dress you tried on looked magnificently ravishing. no date to homecoming though. let me know if you need a plus one. after all, i’m always watching. i love you to the moon and back.

a high-pitched, shrilling, terrible cry left your vocal cards and pierced through the frostbitten coldness of the afternoon sun. what kind of sick person would go to such lengths? your home, now a place you no longer feel safe in. a shame that is. it really is a beautiful house.

letter after letter after letter. the sender iust wouldn’t quit. the harassment continued and ebbed and flowed like curves in a river. a display of different emotions. happy letters, creepy letters, sad letters. and, your least favorite.

angry letters.

dear y/n,

aren’t you going to write me back? are you not the least bit curious as to who i am? such a shame, really. think you and i would really hit it off. you were getting close to beomgyu yesterday. just friends, you are? hm. it doesn’t seem so. the flirtatious touch of a boy and a girl, and all in front of me? you dare hold his hand in front of me? and to think i really liked you. well, i won’t stop so easily. i’ve got my eyes on you, my love. i love you to the moon and back. -s

a clue! a sign of the quote on quote secret admirer that’s been occupying your mailbox with stacks of words as tall as the highest mountain range. but just a letter. one singular syllable. s. s? s could mean a myriad of things.

another letter followed by a scoff. this guy really has the nerve. he doesn’t scare you anymore. you tore through the envelope, not even trying to be careful this time.

dear y/n,

you betrayed me. what did i say about beomgyu? now you’re taking him to homecoming? what about little ol’ me? you smile when you text him. ive noticed you never smile while you read my letters. is that because you’re not aware of my identity? it’s not like i hide it. you should know by now. i thought you were smarter than that. you’re wearing a new scent lately. lilac, was it? it soothes the nose. but i certainly miss the lavender. i cant wait to see you in your dress tomorrow night. i love you to the moon and back.

your head shot up from your burned gaze on the tear stained paper. he was watching you this whole time? was he watching right then? right now? how incredulous: you need to get out of here. your safety is on its last lifeline.

one more envelope. one more beautifully scripted letter. one last word vomit of all of the things he wanted to say. needed to get off his heavy chest and share with you.

dear y/n;

you’re not going to accept my love, are you? that kiss you shared the other night was a sight for sore eyes. you had to stand on your tiptoes to reach, even in your heels. i guess that’s your type. why isn’t it me? well, i suppose i should give up. he’s won. i don’t want you to feel threatened, so i won’t watch anymore. unlock your doors and leave your curtains undrawn. you’ll be just fine. but still, i love you to the moon and back. -soobin

[arkhamknightz]

CLOSURE

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary; in which, spencer tries to fix his mistakes

warnings: angst, happy ending, fluff, as you can tell by both titles inspired by taylor’s evermore album!

notes: part 2 to tolerate it ! i’m really glad people actually enjoyed tolerate it, for anyone who asked for a part 2 or hoped for one this is for you! :) with help from @adhdannieedison !

A month had passed since that fight with Spencer. The letters had started a week and a half ago. First it started off with flowers at your door, a small note attached. “I’m sorry. I still think about you everyday.” You had been rotating through the clothes you had brought in your suitcase, as well as buying new ones.

You couldn’t go back to that apartment. You were staying with a friend, how Spencer got the address isn’t very surprising (thanks to Penelope) but he had started sending letters along with small gifts to the door every other day.

You regretted the fight with Spencer, well, regret isn’t the right word. You meant everything you said, although it wasn’t a secret your frustration got the best of you. Could you have dealt with that better? Yes, absolutely. But his handwriting of each letter of his name only brought an ache to your chest.

It wasn’t right, the way it all went down. He knows that, you know that. You could sense the hesitation in the letters you had received. You could practically feel the nerves radiating off the page, intertwined with the ink.

You were doing better, although you couldn’t bring yourself to write back. You’re sure he knew you were receiving the gifts. Otherwise he would’ve stopped sending them. It cut deep to know him as well as you did. With each letter on the page you could vision him writing them.

He would be sat at his desk at home, knowing he couldn’t bring himself to write them at work. If you inspected the page close enough, you could see very faint droplets. You knew Spencer well enough that he would try his best not to ruin the page, although it seemed like some days he never noticed they were there. His tears somewhat marked on the page.

You knew it was probably over. Maybe it was anger, maybe it was sadness masked as such. But you didn’t need his closure. You didn’t need to know what was running through his head the days he started ignoring you out of fear of what it could’ve been.

The way he looked at you that night, the way he spoke when he told you to stop talking. He spoke like you were some situation that needed to be handled. The way you imagined he would speak at work. You were fine with the spite bubbling in your chest. You were perfectly fine for the first week in the spare room, candles lit as tears rolled down your face with a drink in your hand.

Every time you closed your eyes you could feel his presence. You could feel the longing of his hand on your shoulder, soft kisses on your forehead and whispers of reassurance. It hurt to know him the way you did. It hurt knowing he threw something away so easily after building it for years.

You heard a knock on the door, your friend was out at work and you were sat on the couch filling out a form for work. Knowing what it was, you got up off the couch, setting your computer aside and walked over. You opened the door and there on the mat sat another envelope addressed to you, a small box from your favorite bakery sat under it.

You sighed and picked it up before closing the door and locking it, sitting back down before setting both of them on your lap. You looked into the box and softly smiled, your favorite dessert carefully placed into the box. You opened up the letter and pulled out the paper.

“I know I messed up. I can’t express that enough. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry its taken me so long to properly address it. If i’m being quite honest I don’t know why I did the things I did. More of the matter why I stopped doing certain things. All I know is I miss the way you curled up into me in our shared bed. I haven’t been able to sleep there in the last month. I’m afraid if I sleep in our bed the scent of you would fade away.

I’m sorry for throwing what we had away so easily. I don’t know what caused me to act the way I did, or what caused me to lash out at you when you were only frustrated for all the right reasons. The team was right. It was never about work, but it also wasn’t about you. I can’t pinpoint what caused my behavior but all I know is I’m sorry. And I’ll spend every moment I can trying to show you that I mean that.

This might be a push, but it doesn’t hurt to try. Please, come home soon. I want to work this through. I want to be better for you. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t when I still had you with me. If you do decide to come home one day by some miracle, I’ll be waiting. I’d wait forever if I had to. I really hope you’re doing okay. I’m sorry for the damage I caused, theres not a single day that goes by where I don’t regret what I must’ve put you through.

Yours always, Spencer. x”

You sighed and wiped away the tear that had fell from your eye. You set the letter back into the envelope and put it on the coffee table in front of you. You had gotten a majority of your work done since that night, emotions fueling you to write your papers and get as much work done as you could.

You started going on runs in the park, music playing through your ears as you circled around the area. You really were doing better, the flood of any pain and love you had pushing you to grow and rediscover yourself. You didn’t need his closure, you were just a wrinkle in his life. His guilt was probably what caused him to reach out, but you didn’t need some fake insincere apology from him.

He was apologizing for himself, so he wouldn’t have to live with that guilt. Right? If he really felt bad he would’ve reached out to you sooner. Right? You found yourself making excuses for him again, anger starting to creep its way into your stomach. You loved him, you knew he cared about you. But all you could do was formulate bad intentions in your head.

By the time you ran into Spencer, you were out with your friend at a bar 3 weeks later. You didn’t expect to see him there, nor his entire team. You locked eyes with him from across the room, a tightening ache in your heart as you saw the distinct bags under his eyes, drink in his hand. You knew Spencer wasn’t fond of drinking. Although he did it every so often, he barely ever let himself get as drunk as he looked.

It hurt that you could see his tired features from so far away. Guilt started to slowly rise in your chest before you turned around and downed your drink. “Woah slow down there. What’s up?” You looked over at your friend. “He’s here. With his entire team.” Her eyes widened and she turned around to look around the bar, low and behold there she saw Spencer sitting at a table with a group of people.

“Do not turn around he’s walking- okay well stumbling this way.” You shut your eyes tightly as you heard him call out your name. You looked over at your friend who smiled in sympathy and walked away to go get a new drink. Your breath hitched as he stopped on the other side of you. “Hey.”

You could hear the crack of his voice, you missed the way he spoke to you at night, both of you laying in bed while you whispered sweet nothings to each-other. You turned around and smiled sadly. “Hey Spence” you saw him tear up at the nickname and you quickly panicked. “Hey hey, don’t cry please don’t cry.” He sniffled. “I missed you. I’m so so sorry.” A tear rolled down his cheek, your facial expression now mirroring his.

You could feel any anger you had towards him bubble away as you pulled him into a hug, his body shook against yours as he settled his head into your neck. Cracks in his voice muffled by your hair as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I know I fucked up. I fucked up so so badly. I’ve missed you so much I’m sorry I know you hate m-“ you quickly cut him off. “I’m still upset yes but I don’t hate you.”

You pulled away looking at him, his eyes red and puffy brimmed with tears. “I could never hate you.” You reached up to wipe away his tears, thumb brushing against his cheek which only made him cry harder. Normally, you probably would feel embarrassed, you were both crying in the middle of the bar, but all you could focus on was him.

“I’m gonna take you home okay? We can talk about this tomorrow. You need to sleep.” He nodded, knowing it would be pointless to argue. You looked over at his team, who all looked away quickly, their eyes darting around the room pretending they weren’t watching. You softly chuckled and made eye contact with Derek before mouthing you were gonna take him home.

He nodded and you locked hands with Spencer before letting your friend know you were taking him home. She nodded and told you to stay safe before you walked out. Spencer looked like a kicked puppy, eyes red with tears while he looked down, sniffles coming from him.

You waved down a taxi before getting him inside, sitting beside him. You gave them the address to your old apartment and you sat in silence. The only noise coming from the radio, the streets and his small sniffles. After being dropped off, you reached out and he gave you his keys, you opened the door and your heart broke at the state of the apartment. Books were thrown out onto the floor, the kitchen seemingly untouched, you took a look at the couch and saw a thin blanket sprawled out, pillow thrown onto the floor.

You sighed and looked at Spencer who was already looking at you, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry the place is a mess.” You let out a small laugh, wiping away his tears. “It’s okay. Let’s get you to bed yeah?” He nodded and walked through the apartment with you. You cleaned up while he got changed in your bedroom, putting away the books and folding up the blanket on the couch.

You grabbed his pillow and walked into your room. Spencer was staring at your side of the bed and you placed his pillow back in its spot and sat on the edge of the bed. He took the hint and sat right next to you. You looked down and picked at your nails, his hand grasping yours to stop you. “Don’t do that.” He held your hand and now you were the one crying.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, as if speaking any louder would break you. “I know.” You both sat in silence for a little, small sniffles echoing throughout the room. “You should get some sleep Spencer.” He nodded and you got up, allowing him to lay down. You walked into the closet and changed into comfier clothes before walking into the bathroom and washing your face.

You came back out and laid next to him. His arm wrapping around your waist like it used to. You missed the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, fitting like a missing puzzle piece. You were doing fine without him. But you knew what was missing. You knew you wouldn’t be able to live the rest of your life the same without him there. His arms felt like home, his kisses like rays of sunshine hitting your face, his hugs like being enveloped by a warm blanket.

You hadn’t been able to sleep well, missing the way you felt safe while you were asleep with him. Now whenever you slept you kept a small light on, but it hardly even came close to fulfilling the security you longed for. You smiled softly as he quickly fell asleep, his arms unconsciously starting to tighten around you.

The next morning you woke up before Spencer. You got up and walked into the kitchen to get him a glass of water and some painkillers. You knew he hated taking them, preferring to push through it. But after last night you knew he would need it. You heard quick shuffling and your bedroom door swing open, you turned around and he had tears in his eyes, before he finally settled on your figure left in the kitchen.

This only seemed to make it worse. He let out a choked sob as you looked at him. “Hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.” You joked, he cracked a smile and shook his head. “Never.” You handed him the cup of water and he drank it, taking the small pill reluctantly.

After a few minutes you both sat on the couch. You had been dreading this conversation since you saw him at the bar last night. “I know I’ve said sorry, but I want to prove that to you. I want to show you I mean it wholeheartedly. Pushing you away the way that I did was inexcusable. So I’m not gonna try to come up with one. But I know it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. And I know you deserve better than someone who could do something like that to you.”

You nodded. “I know I deserved better.” His eyes looked into his lap, his hands fiddling with each-other. “But I didn’t want better. I wanted you Spencer. I knew the difficulty of your job, I knew the relationship wouldn’t be perfect all the time. That I was perfectly okay with. What I didn’t appreciate was you pushing me away, the comments you had started making at me, the way you told me to stop talking when I was angry like I had no right to be.”

He nodded in understanding as you continued, “I’ve never loved someone the way I love you Spencer. So it hurt when you pushed me away and made no effort to show you cared in the slightest. I was trying my best and it seemed like it wasn’t enough for you. So I walked away because I knew I wasn’t gonna let myself go through that.” He nodded. “I know. I’m sorry, I know saying that over and over doesn’t do anything if I don’t prove myself that I mean it. I want to be better this time. And I know that’s gonna take a lot and that’s something I’m more than willing to do. If I have to wait a year for you to fully forgive me I will in a heartbeat. Please. Just let me show you I’ve changed? That I want this to work?”

You nodded and he smiled softly before silently asking to hug you. You pulled him in and you sat in his arms, basking in the warmth and the way he pulled you closer to his chest if that was even humanly possible. You were doing fine without him. But you knew you would never be complete with him beside you.

note: HI i hope this ending is satisfying for everyone. i know i seemingly rushed through this but ideas were flowing! my requests are open for anyone who wants to send in some things, i mostly write song fics, since i find them easiest and can produce them the quickest. but im open to all requests! i have a list of people i write for in my pinned, so please don’t be afraid to send something in! :)

tag list; @sebastiansstanswhore @deadunicorn159 @adhdannieedison

[scoonsalicious]

10.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: You saw Bucky's strength full force for the first time.

A/N: At my nephew's 3rd Birthday Party today. Pray for me.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You sighed in relief as Bucky waved a final goodbye and walked out the door. It wasn’t that you were happy to see him go… it was just that, well, you really couldn’t deal with the contents of this envelope with him there. You waited through the count of ten after he’d walked away before turning back to Zadie.

“The courier company, Zadie,” you said, your voice calmer now than it had been when you first walked out of your office. “I need to know which one it came from.”

Zadie bit her bottom lip in distress. “I’m… I’m sorry, Major,” she said. “I was checking in a group for a 1:30 session when it got dropped off. I wasn’t really paying attention. I’m sorry.”

You let out a frustrated breath of air. “It’s okay, Zadie,” you told her. “You didn’t know it would end up being important. And I’m sorry I yelled earlier. I just… well, I wasn’t expecting this and it’s thrown me for a loop.”

“Is everything okay?” Zadie asked, concern showing in her voice. “Is the business in any kind of trouble?”

You shook your head, wanting to relieve her of any worry that this had any impact on The WarZone. “No, no– everything’s fine on the business end. The stuff in the envelope is personal. I think I have an idea as to where it came from, but I need to be sure.”

“But you just told Sergeant Barnes it was business stuff,” Zadie insisted. 

“Yeah, yeah I did,” you conceded. “It concerns him, and I really don’t want him having to worry about it. At least until I have more facts.” You hated that you had lied to him about the contents of the envelope, but you would have hated the look on his face when he discovered what it was even more. 

Thanking Zadie and apologizing to her once more, you made your way back into your office. Once inside, you locked your door and dumped the contents of the envelope onto your desk. Dozens of reports and photos splashed across your workspace, each one depicting the horrific crimes of the Winter Solider in brutal detail. The final piece to fall from the envelope was a photo of Bucky, in full assassin gear, aiming a gun at the head of an unarmed older man, and in blocky all-caps lettering, the message to you: DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU’RE FUCKING?

You knew Bucky well enough by now to know how upset these documents would make him, how he would most likely pull away from you once he saw you knew the dirty details of his crimes, but you would never. You’d meant what you’d told him on your first real date– he was not the man responsible for these atrocities; and these anonymously sent pieces of paper wouldn’t change your mind.

However, there was someone out there who clearly thought they would. Someone who assumed you would be put off by the darkness in Bucky’s history. Someone who didn’t want you to see him anymore. Honestly, the pool of individuals who knew about your relationship with Bucky was so small, there weren’t many suspects. One, however, stood out more than the rest.

You moved around to your desk chair and sat down. Picking up your phone, you dialed Zadie at the front desk. 

“Hey, Zade,” you said when she answered. “Do me a favor and have Rand come see me when he gets back from lunch. I need to have a talk with him.”

*

You spent the next forty minutes trying to figure out where the documents came from, both in terms of what courier service delivered them and where the documents might have originated from. You were a bust on both fronts, unfortunately.

Your first step was to review the security cameras in the lobby for the time in question. You watched the courier enter the building and go to the reception desk, patiently wait for Zadie’s attention, then have her sign for the envelope. Unfortunately, there was no uniform or logo indicating what company the courier worked for. You knew you should have splurged to have cameras cover the outside front of the building, on off chance the courier had gotten into a marked vehicle, but you hadn’t thought the expense necessary at the time. 

As for the provenance of the documents themselves, well, that was also a dead end. Most of the files came from the archives of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division of the United States Government. You knew S.H.I.E.L.D. had suffered an intel leak back in 2014, and it appeared that everything that had been sent to you on the Winter Soldier’s crimes were a part of that leak or had appeared as evidence in Bucky’s trial, making all of it accessible to the public, if one cared enough to go digging and knew what they were looking for.

You squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose, frustrated that you’d hit another brick wall. So much for finding proof. A knock on your door drew your attention and you checked your clock. Rand would have just gotten back from lunch a few minutes ago.

You stood up and walked to the door of your office, unlocking it. 

“Hey, Major,” Rand said a bit nervously. “Zadie said you wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, Rand, come in, please,” you said, motioning for him to enter and sit down. God, you really didn’t want to be having this conversation. He took the seat on the opposite side of your desk, and you sat down in your chair, folding your hands on the desk in front of you.

“I got your package,” you said, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible.

Rand frowned in confusion. “What package?” So, he was going to play stupid.

“The envelope you had delivered to me this afternoon,” you said.

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Major. I didn’t have anything sent to you.” He seemed to consider something. “Fuck– should I have? Is it, like, your birthday or something?”

Wordlessly, you slid the envelope in question across the desk to him. He gave you a puzzled look and reached down, withdrawing the stack of papers within. You watched his eyes widen in shock and disgust as he flipped through them, one by one.

“You think I sent this to you?” he asked, affronted. “Seriously?”

You shrugged. “You’ve made your feelings about me seeing Bucky no secret,” you told him. “And you were downright rude to him when he came in earlier. I can’t think of anyone else who would be warning me about who I’m seeing.”

“Major.” Rand put the stack of papers down on top of your desk. “I may not like the guy, that’s true– but I respect the shit outta you. You’re a grown ass woman, capable of making your own decisions. I don’t necessarily agree with this one in particular, but it’s still your decision to make. Besides,” he leaned back in his chair, “in all the years we’ve known each other, when have I ever had a problem telling you you’re being a dumbass directly to your face?”

He was right– you’d known Rand for ages– you’d fought in the army together, and he’d never once shied away from giving you his opinions directly and frankly, no matter how blunt they might have been. An anonymous envelope and a cryptic warning were not the way he would go about doing it.

“Fuck,” you said, putting your head in your hands. “I’m sorry, Rand. You’re right. I just– shit. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he said, leaning across the desk and putting a hand on your elbow, “don’t be. I get why you would have thought it was me. I can’t say I disagree with whoever sent this, but doing it without putting their name on makes them a coward. If they have a problem with you and Barnes, they should come to you directly. None of this cloak and dagger bullshit.”

You didn’t want to think about there being multiple people out there who might have a problem with you and Bucky being together, but if it wasn’t Rand (and you now truly believed it wasn’t), you’d have to face that possibility. “Still,” you said, looking up at him, “I’m sorry for accusing you without any evidence.”

Rand shrugged. “Eh, I made myself look like a pretty good suspect,” he teased. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Major,” he said, standing up to go back to work. “If they can’t even be bothered to tell you their problem to your face, they’re not worth your worry. Hell, if you can’t be swayed by an old friend like me, I say don’t let this bother you at all.”

“Thanks, Rand,” you chuckled. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

Rand nodded as he made his way to the door. “If it’s any consolation,” he added before he walked out, “Barnes really does seem to like you a lot.”

You smiled to yourself as he left, vowing to not let the anonymous sender get to you. It was quite the consolation, actually.

Quite the consolation, indeed.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[impala-dreamer]

Meet Me At The Beach

A Supernatural Story

~ Texting and emails can feel so impersonal. There's nothing quite like exchanging tangible, handwritten letters with someone you love...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader, Sam Winchester

4,025 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Angst. SFW. 

A/N: This is for @jacklesversebingo "Writing Letters To Each Other" was the prompt. I hope you enjoy...

June 2

Dear Dean, 

This feels so weird. Do people really write letters anymore? Am I going to get strange looks at the post office when I go to buy a stamp? Will they even know what to do with this tiny envelope and folded piece of loose-leaf paper? I almost don’t know how to write anymore. My script looks kinda like chicken scratch, huh? Hopefully it’ll get better. It is weird not typing though. But emails just seem like work. Impersonal, ya know? Besides, it gives us something to look forward to when we hit the mailbox. Nice to open something that’s not a delinquent credit card bill, huh? 

Speaking of which- how the fuck do you do it? I just got another card canceled. My credit is non-existent. Fuck, I need to get a job. Could you imagine me in an office? High heels and panty hose and my hair tucked into a neat, matronly bun? I shudder to think! 

OK, this is weird. I just wanted to write “LOL” but it’s not an email. Or a text. Why are we doing this again? Oh, yeah, see above. 

Anyhoo- - - - I don’t even know what to say! Umm… I’m in New Orleans for a bit. Not working, just hanging out. My friend Emily from high school tracked me down online and we’ve been chatty. She’s in a band. They’re not bad. Not great, but not bad. So yeah, I took a drive down to see a show and I’m just lingering. Drinking too much, sleeping past noon. It’s fun. Nice little vacation. 

Which - ahem - you should be taking. When are you gonna get your ass out of that dusty old bunker and stick your toes in the sand? I already told you I’d meet you in Pensacola with sunscreen and a cooler of beer. You know you want to. Or are you just scared to show off your ugly toes in flip flops? Your boots might actually cry if you ever took them off, so I guess it’s just as well. 

Hey, do you remember that night in Richmond when it started pouring and your boots sank into the mud puddle? God, that was a mess. We were soaked to the bone. Nice way to warm up, though - cuddled in the back of the Impala. I miss that car. Sometimes, I think I can hear it at night when the world is quiet and the wind is still. It’s like the engine roars in the back of my mind and I start thinking about all our adventures, all the time we spent driving into the sunset. 

I miss you. Is that wrong? I probably shouldn’t. Or at least, I shouldn’t tell you that I do. But I do. I miss you so bad sometimes that it hurts. Like someone has punched me right in the chest. Maybe we can end up in the same town soon. Grab some tacos and sit on the hood. Make a mess. I’d like that. 

OK, before I get too emotional and start asking you to run away with me, I think I’ll end this ranting scribble of horrid handwriting. 

Write me back soon.

Love, Y/N

June 21 

Y/N- 

Your handwriting does not look like chicken scratch. I like it. Mine is like some toddler just learning his letters. Whatever. I never learned that fancy shit. I can sign my name and make a grocery list. That’s all I need. 

This is weird, yeah. But it’s kinda nice. Feels more… like you’re here. Does that make sense? Like seeing your handwriting, the dents in the paper- I don’t know. Just feels more real. Like you’re not just some computer talking back at me. Also there’s something strange about answering questions weeks later. I meant to write this sooner, but I got a little distracted. There was a Kung Fu marathon on and I just lost track of time. Too much pizza, not enough Carradine. Ya know? You know. 

Remember that horrible motel in Raleigh when we both caught that nasty stomach bug and stayed up all night watching old tv shows? Saltines and Little House. I’ll never forget it. You were so sick that day. Shit, I was sure I was gonna end up taking you to the hospital. Sure, I was puking too, but you looked like death. I hated that. Hated that I couldn’t help you, make you feel better. I did cook up a mean chicken noodle soup though, didn’t I? Not that it stayed down for long. 

Thank god for that yellow Gatorade. And yes- it’s fucking yellow. Not green. 

Anyway- I miss you too. I try not to, I really do. Not all the time, no offense, but sometimes I’m just fucking insane with shit going on. But at night, especially, I miss having you beside me. I miss rolling over and seeing you there, or hearing you snore. I miss feeling your freezing feet under the blanket. I don’t know, I just- 

What can I say? I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I’m the biggest piece of shit in the universe. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. 

Can’t change the past. Just gotta move on. 

Maybe someday you’ll forgive me. I hope so anyway. 

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump that all out in a letter. I almost ripped this all up and started over. I actually let it sit for a day before I came back to it. But, fuck it- we said we were gonna write to each other and be honest, and here I am, being honest. 

Fuck, I’m so tired. That kinda tired when sleeping for ten days wouldn’t even put a dent in it. Yeah, OK, so things are getting a little better. Chuck’s gone for good this time. Jack’s got things back in place, even made a few improvements. Sam’s- well, he’s Sam. He’s fine, doing his thing. The dog is- did I tell you we have a dog now? Yeah, I know. Me and a dog- yeah right. But we do. Miracle. He’s a good boy. I’ll send you a picture soon. 

Never thought I could slow down like this. Feels like for the first time we can just - work. I mean, I’m never gonna give up hunting, not totally, but- feels like I could just ease back a bit. Been looking at some jobs in town- nothing crazy, fixing engines and stuff like that. Don’t know if you remember, but I’m pretty good with my hands. 

Did you blush? 

You did. 

OK. I guess- that’s it for now. I have no fucking idea how to end this so - bye?

~ Dean

P.S.  I’ll meet you at the beach soon. I promise.

Fifteenth of July 

To Whom It May Concern:

Re: Beach Vacation

Dear Mr. Winchester, 

I am very pleased to hear that you are agreeable to meeting me at the beach. It should be delightful fun to run through the surf and hunt for sea glass with you.

Oh shit! Do you remember that new age shop in… where the fuck was that? With the sea glass necklaces in the window that I said were so pretty and the witch inside said they were blessed to give the wearer riches or some shit like that. Where was that? Who knows.

Feels like we’ve been all over the world together. Well, this country at least. Lord knows I could never get you on an airplane. If only you could drive to Paris. Did I ever tell you about my trip to France? God, it was beautiful. Rained the whole time, but it was this beautiful, warm spring rain that made everything smell like dust and petals. Not rose petals, but those little white ones that grow on trees, ya know? It was so beautiful. Fuck it. I’m taking you one day. You need to see more than the dash of your car and the backroads of America. Time to travel!

Speaking of- I’m glad you’re slowing down a bit. I know that won’t be easy for you but if you think about it, you’ve spent the last forty years running from problem to problem like a damned bomb-sniffing dog. 

A DOG?! Dean Winchester, I never thought the day would come. I can’t wait to see a picture. Don’t forget it next time. 

I think you’d be a great mechanic. It was always very hot seeing you covered in sweat and grease especially if you had those damned coveralls on. I mean… what? I don’t think about you like that anymore, you know. It’s over and done with and we’re just friends. We are friends, aren’t we? Maybe something more than friends, I guess. Ex lovers? Ew. I hate that word. Lovers. So gross. Well, then what are we? Just two souls swimming in a fish bowl…

Year after year. Day after day. Do you know that I put nearly a hundred thousand miles on my poor truck this year? Back and forth, up and down the country. I don’t have to tell you how exhausting it is. Fun, but exhausting. Rewarding, but not. I wonder how many people remember me after I leave? Does that family in New Haven think about me whenever they go into the basement and it’s no longer haunted? Is there a photo of me on a fridge in Wilmington where I saved that guy’s fiance from the vamp nest? Probably not. I’m sure people remember you - The Great Dean Winchester. The sexy hunter with the green eyes and the giant black car. You’re hard to forget. Also, you hang out with a giant. Tell Sam I said hi. 

I do remember that puke fest! And it’s green. It’s literally neon green. Fight me. 

We could probably write a book, you and me. ‘Winchester & Y/L/N Do America’. It’s a coffee table book with pictures of random diner signs and gas station bathrooms. Maybe a list of the country’s best french fry places. Shit like that. Let’s do it. I’ll call my literary agent in the morning. Ha!

SPARTA!! That’s where that damned sea glass shop was. It just hit me! Stupid brain. I swear, I’ve been hit in the head way too many times. Broken too many bones. I’m getting too old for this shit. Did you know that my left knee pops whenever I stand up now? Like, how old am I?? I can’t stand it. I need a month at a spa somewhere in the desert. That’d be nice. 

Damnit. I just got a call from Vinnie Alverez. Do you know him? Hunter out of Pittsburg. Anyway- he needs help on a job. Guess I’ll cut this letter short. Hopefully I’ll find a box to drop this in on the way to PA! 

Miss you. 

Sincerely yours, 

Y/N

P.S. - I do forgive you, Dean. Of course I do. Things were just too hard back then. Life didn’t want to cooperate for us. It’s not your fault. Not my fault. It just was. Please don’t carry that guilt in your heart. You deserve better than that. 

August 2

Dear Y/N- 

You’re a real character, you know that? Love the corporate letter. I’m in for the book by the way. Could be awesome. We do need a full chapter on onion rings though. Make a note. 

I heard about your hunt in Pittsburgh. Came through the grapevine that you kicked some serious wolf ass. Nice job, kid. Hope you’re being careful. I know how bullheaded and impulsive you can get when you’re in the zone. Just watch your back, OK? Promise me. Last thing I wanna hear is that you got your heart clawed out or you’re walking around with a demon in your ass. 

Demons. Haven’t seen so many running around lately. Queen Rowena’s been keeping them in check. So fucking weird that she’s in charge now. Not that I’m surprised- she’s a badass bitch. If I had a nickel for every ruler of hell I was friends with, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. The kids still say that, don’t they? See, I’m not old. I keep up with pop culture and shit. Started watching the tik toks. I still don’t get it, but I like the woodturning stuff. Thinking about taking up whittling. Maybe carve you a keychain so you stop losing them. 

I got a call for a job interview. Chickened out though. I don’t know if I’m ready to start all that, ya know? Start a real life in the real world- just seems- I don’t know, scary. Yeah, I’ve faced every deadly thing on this and other worlds but the idea of getting a 9 to 5 civilian job scares me. I’m some kinda fucked up, huh? 

I think about it a lot though. Getting a job, finding a little house somewhere, settling down. A little fenced in yard so Miracle can run around and dig up dirt. Might put a rocking chair on the porch and watch the clouds, some shit like that. Would you come visit me in my Barbie dream house? I’ll cook you breakfast every morning and you can rub my feet at night. Real cozy couple stuff. 

OK, so maybe I’m thinking about you more and more these days. Maybe I’m regretting leaving. Maybe I’m just an idiot daydreaming about meeting you somewhere in the middle and sweeping you off your feet. One of those running hugs that hurts when you collide but ends in a kiss that makes everything feel better. I’m a real romantic fuck, huh? I was digging through my drawers yesterday and I found a pair of your socks. Those tiny ones that barely covered your ankle. I don’t know why they were stuffed in the back of the dresser, but there they were. Dingy white socks with the pink threads on the toes. I’ll bring them to the beach when we meet up. 

Oh, Sam says hi and he hopes you’re good and he wants you to shoot him a text when you can. You can do what you want, but you better not mail him a letter. That’s just for me. God, my hand is cramping up. I’m not used to this. Oh, and you’re not alone. My knee creaks like a haunted house when I go up stairs now. And my right wrist pops, and my neck makes this weird almost squeaking sound, and my ass- well, I could go on, but just know you’re not alone. Kinda weird to think that we lived long enough to be this old, ain’t it? I never thought I’d live to be thirty and here I am staring down 42. Forty Fucking Two. Can you believe that shit? Goddamnit I got old. Let’s go find a nursing home together. Maybe we can get a double room- or a king sized bed?

Think about it. We could be cranky old people together. Losing our memories and shuffling around with walkers and shit. You’d look cute with white hair. And fuck, my beard’s already going gray. Should I grow out my beard? 

Write back soon. I really like seeing your letters in the box. 

Dean  x

My dearest Dean Winchester, it is with great happiness that I write this letter to you and I do hope that it finds you well and happy and all good things and I can’t keep this formal shit up. Ha!

Anyway- but yeah, things are good. I know it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I was on a little trip around the continent. Headed up to Montreal for a bit. Killed some nasties, salted some bones, generally fucked around. My beloved truck crapped out in Burlington, Vermont, so I had to hang out there for a while and gather my resources to get a new vehicle. I think you’d like her. Green Ford Explorer from ‘94. OK, she’s not as sexy as the Impala, but she gets me where I need to go. Which, apparently, was Maine! I met up with some friends in Greenville. Cute little town full of witchcraft. So much fun. Also had a lobster roll on a pier… I swear to god, they plucked this thing right out of the water and slapped it on a buttered roll. You’d LOVE it. I’m gonna take you there someday. 

Speaking of- We need to make plans for Florida. I picked up a little bikini on my travels and I think I really need to show it off. Maybe you could be my bodyguard and keep the creeps away while I’m sunbathing? To repay you for your services, I’ll gladly let you take it off me at night…

Oh, and I’ve thought about this extensively, and I believe that you should, in fact, grow your beard out. Like, full on, bushy lumberjack beard. I can’t wait to see all that gray. You know I have a thing for older men… and you’ll always be older than me, Dean Winchester and don’t you forget it!

And for your information, I don’t lose my keys anymore! I got one of those… apple taggy things. Now I know where they are at all times. Can’t find my phone to find them sometimes, but that’s another issue. 

Two weeks later, I’m picking up my pen again. Sorry this is taking forever. Things are stupid busy. I wish I could just… put this fucking gun down and go live with you on a farm somewhere. Not a working farm, we wouldn’t keep pigs or anything because gross, but a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Big white house with a giant tree in the yard and a tire swing and a picket fence and a kid chasing the dog around and - 

Shit. Do you ever think about it? I do. A lot. More than I’d like to and it fucking cuts me up inside every time. I know we could never have kept it, and life- I mean- it just wasn’t meant to be. But I do think about it sometimes. Imagine if we’d just walked away from the life and tried to be a family? Impossible, I know. Maybe in another life. 

Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck. Ignore me. I haven’t slept in a while and I just

I want to see you. Can we meet somewhere? Wherever you want. I’ll come to you. 

~ Y/N 

Dear Dean, 

This is my second attempt at writing this. Crumpled up the first one because I’m an idiot. Am I an idiot? Did I piss you off with the last letter? I honestly didn’t mean to. I just- we said we’d be honest, and you’ve been so open in your letters that I thought it was ok to talk about, but I guess not. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have dug that stuff up. 

I’m so tired and stressed and I miss you so much. Since we’ve been writing back and forth it’s almost like I can’t stop thinking about you. I get so fucking excited to check the mail whenever I roll back into town. It’s like… I don’t know, it’s like Christmas every time I see your handwriting in my box. Remember the time you wrote your name on my thigh in Sharpie? That stayed on for like a week. I shoulda gotten it inked on. That’d be something, huh? Branded by a Winchester. 

Fuck, Dean, I really hope you’re not mad at me. I really want to call you, but we said we wouldn’t. Just write me back, please. 

I’ll be in your neck of the woods next week. Got turned onto a haunting up in Abilene. Maybe we can meet on the road somewhere? Please? 

Hey, did you know there’s a Hunter, Kansas? Wonder why they didn’t build the bunker there. I don’t know, made me laugh when I was looking at the map. 

Anyway- Please write me back. Or call. Or text. Or send a damned pigeon with a tiny letter taped to its foot. I don’t care, how, just do it please. Even if you’re mad at me and don’t want to talk anymore, I get it. But please. Just let me know, OK?

I’m sorry. 

Love, Y/N

Dear Y/N,

I didn’t know you and my brother were writing to each other like this, but I found your last few letters to him in his private P.O. Box. I didn’t even know he had one of his own, but I guess we all keep secrets from those we love. I hope you don’t mind that I read your letters. Not all of them, but the last two that came through. Please know that Dean would have responded if he could have, I know he would have. He talked about you a lot recently. Said you two were in contact and that he was hoping to find some time to meet you for a vacation. I don’t know where you guys were planning on going, but I found a new Hawiian shirt in his closet with the tags still on it. 

I know we spoke on the phone after he passed, but I wanted to send this to you. I was cleaning up his stuff and found his notepad. Looks like he’d started a letter before we left for Canton. I think he’d want you to have it. 

I’m closing up the Bunker soon. I don’t really know where I’ll go, but I can’t be here right now. Not without my brother. 

I’ll always be around if you need anything or want to talk. I’ll always answer the phone for you, Y/N. 

Be well,

Sam Winchester

Y/N/N, 

If I could take it back I would. Every fucking word. I think about it now and I know we made the wrong choice. I know we could have made it work if we tried. But we are both total fuck ups who can’t be normal. We just can’t. 

Forgive me

That’s dog slobber up there, not tears. Just fyi. Definitely not tears. I think I might have been a little drunk when I started writing and then well-

Anyway- Maine sounds awesome. We were there once but no time for lobster rolls. Guess I missed out. 

Not much to report since the last letter. Been kinda quiet here. But… I did apply for a job. Well, I filled out the application. Well, I started filling it out. It’s actually underneath this notepad right now. I’ll get to it. I will. I just need a good kick in the ass. Or maybe a pinch… wink wink

I absolutely think we need to get together. Pick some place stupid like the World’s Largest Frying Pan or South of The Border. I’ll meet you. Just say when. 

Guess this letter will take a little longer to finish. We’re leaving for Ohio in a little bit. There’s a buncha vampire dicks making a mess. Gonna take ‘em to batting practice. Show them my machete swing. I’ll give a full report when we’re back home

Dean Dean, 

I made it to the beach. It’s hot, like stupid hot. Had to stand in the water just to keep my toes from burning. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to think of something to say, but all I can say is I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here with me. I wish things had been different. I wish and wish and wish. 

If I throw this into the ocean will it get to you somehow or will my words just wash away like the sand? 

I’ll see you again someday. I hope so, anyway. Let’s just pretend I’m destined for Heaven. I know you’re up there. You were too good not to be. You sacrificed so much, cared so much, saved so many people. I know you made it. If there’s any mercy in this universe, I’ll be up there someday too. Just don’t have too much fun without me. 

I love you, Dean. Always. 

Y/N

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[anyroads]

Shameless holiday Etsy store plug!

It's that time of year again! Crafters, if you're looking for leather thimbles, I got you.

I've never been able to use metal thimbles and it was always a source of frustration because needles start to hurt your finger pretty quickly. A couple of years ago I learned how to make leather thimbles and it changed my sewing and embroidery game entirely. When I got a stack of leather offcuts, though, I ended up with way more material than I needed, so I started making extras and selling them. I started having fun with the kinds of leather I worked with and incorporating fun, colorful designs, and now I stock all sorts in my Etsy store:

I only use reclaimed leather scraps from other Etsy sellers who I've built personal relationships with, several of whom also use reclaimed leather before selling their own offcuts to me. Each thimble comes wrapped in tissue paper, packing slips are printed on recycled paper, and shipped in unbleached envelopes with labels made from recycled materials.

Whether these are your thing or not, I hope you'll keep independent artisans in mind when you're buying gifts this season! They work hard, are underpaid, and need your support more than corporations.

(Also, if you see an Etsy ad on google or in the ad space of a website, don't click on it! Search for the Etsy store's name through Etsy instead. When you make a purchase after clicking an advertising link, Etsy takes a percentage and keeps doing so every time you go back to that store. Etsy already takes 25%-33% of sellers' profits in fees, don't help them take more! Links like the above that are embedded in an individual person's post are fine, just look out for ads on the side or bottom of websites, blogs, and social media pages, as well as google ads.)

[seeingivy]

cornelia street

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my debut concert event

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: mentions of drinking, reader has diabetes, mentions of misogyny in the workplace, satoru and reader are lawyers, gojo calls reader bonnie bc they're bonnie and clyde, a teenager who pees on da sidewalk, and a bitchy barista

an: 50+ listens to cornelia street and she's done. a request from the lovely @skzismyhome I hope you love it pookie and thank you for your support always!!!

--

You look down at the contract in front of you, willing down the angry tears settling in your eyes. 

You knew that this day would come. It comes for everyone, for every son and daughter in higher society. The day they arrange your marriage. 

And you never really dreaded it. Or hated it. Utahime was nearly murderous when it was happening to her, Shoko almost eloped and moved to the countryside when it was her turn, and Mei Mei was the only one who actually disappeared off the face of the Earth. 

But you didn’t really care. Since you were young, you knew that this was something that you were being primed for. Why you had to be the best. You just hoped when it happened, it would be everything like your parents. 

They didn’t love each other. But they were partners. By each other’s side. More like friends who just also happened to be married and had kids together. 

But like all things in higher society, you never get what you want. Because the idiot you’re signing the papers with is the most entitled, self-centered egotistical asshat you’ve ever met. 

Satoru Gojo. 

“Last matter of business. I think this decision lands on Y/N, since Satoru made the last one. Where would you like to live?” 

You scribble your answer onto the page and sign the line next to your name at the bottom. Satoru follows suit, sliding the ring box to your side, as you both shuffle in your seats. 

Satoru has no reason to hate you. If anything, he should be praising the fucking ground you walk on for what he did to you. You slide the ring on your own finger and collect the papers, sealing them into the envelope. 

“Where did you pick? For us to live?” 

“Cornelia Street.”

--

You and Satoru butt heads often. You start it. Sometimes he argues back. You’re both pissed off by the end of it. 

“I’ll run the errands, Satoru.”  

He groans as he swings open the fridge, pulling out his leftovers from the night before. 

“It’s literally right next to my office. I could just grab it if you tell me what it is you need.” 

“No, thank you. I can get my things on my own.” 

“Why are you so stubborn all the time? You haven’t even let me do anything since-”

“I can do my shopping on my own, thanks.” 

You would let Satoru do it. You would. Because it is really annoying to run down to the store every time you need something, but you’re not giving in. 

Because that would require you to indulge Satoru in more personal information than you would like to, so you can’t. Because you don’t fraternize with the devil. 

The thing you need from the store isn’t actually from the store, it’s from the pharmacy next to it. You’re out of your long insulin pods, because you’ve been so busy with work. Because your own pancreas is so stupid, it can’t produce it’s own insulin. You have to buy it from the store, in a stupid little patch that painfully pricks into your stomach every time you insert it. 

He blocks the doorway as you try to walk out, blue eyes peering into yours. 

“Why won’t you just let me do this for you?” 

“Because that worked out so well for me last time, Satoru.” 

He groans as he presses his fingers to his nose bridge, nearly rolling his eyes at you. 

“You know. If you’d let me explain that, I’d actually-” 

“There’s nothing to explain. I asked you to give me a shoo in for my dream job. You quite explicitly told them not to hire me.” 

Three summers ago was the first time you were graced with Satoru Gojo’s presence. And hell, you actually tolerate him. Maybe even liked him. You were both doing an internship, at the Zenin’s law firm in Brooklyn. 

You and Satoru were somewhat of a…dream team. Every case you worked on together gave you a rush, like he’d finish your thoughts before you were thinking. Like you picked up where he lacked and vice versa. You were Bonnie and Clyde. Partners in crime. 

So when they gave Satoru the associate position first, you asked him to pick you for the second associate opening. Because the person who gets that opening gets to be his partner. And you had convinced him - that you two would be a dream team, that you would be unstoppable. He agreed, in fact - he promised he would give it to you. 

Which is why you felt blindsided when they picked an outsider, Getou Suguru, as the associate. And when you asked the head of the Zenin’s, Toji, why he didn’t pick you, you were mad. Why you weren’t the associate when you ran to get coffee for all of them all summer, stayed up late on cases, and busted your ass off, he said that Satoru didn’t think you were a good fit. And he has to make sure staff has good personal relations. 

“Why are you so stubborn? You literally won’t even talk to me about-” 

“I don’t want to talk to you! What part of that do you not fucking understand? I don’t like you. I’m never going to like you because you’re an egotistical, sadistic little prick and-

“And what are you? You’re an entitled little know it all. You don’t even listen before jumping to your own fucking conclusions about-” 

“It’s not jumping to conclusions when Toji tells me straight to my face that you didn’t think I was a good fit. You’re fucking dense as fuck if you think I don’t know that.” 

You push past him, marching angrily down Cornelia Street. 

--

You press your face against the glass, watching the mounds of snow out in the street. You and Satoru have been snowed in on Cornelia Street for three days now, the stupid climate change induced storm in the middle of November trapping you for good. 

In theory, you would have loved something like this. A break from work for a few days, nice weather for you to watch movies and cuddle up on the couch. Except, there’s an intruder in your house who has the same ideas as you. 

“Hey.” 

“Shove a fork in your eye, Satoru.” 

“You get more creative as time goes on. I appreciate that in a wife.” 

You roll your eyes as you walk over to the kitchen, where Satoru’s rummaging through the kitchen. 

“Did you eat all the food already?” 

“You know, if you actually did groceries on time, maybe we would actually have food for emergencies like this, Satoru.” 

“First you don’t want me to do groceries and now you do? You’re so unpredictable it’s like-”

“I’m unpredictable? You’ve got to be kidding-” 

“Oh my god. We’re not doing this today. I get it. I stole your dream job. Ruined your life. You hate me. Just, shut up about it already.” 

He’s swirling the spoon through the saucepan as he waits for it, your irritated, agitated retort. And it doesn’t come. 

He looks over to find you all but leaning over the counter, your head pressing into your forearm as you wobble on your feet. He instinctively reaches forward, holding you up in his arms. 

“Hey. What’s wrong? Why are you-” 

You lean forward against his chest, pressing your hands against his biceps as you feel your legs go limp. Right. Day three on Cornelia Street. With no extra insulin pods left. 

“I’m out of-”

You slump forward more this time and Satoru drops the spoon on the floor, securing you against him as he leads you to the couch, laying you down flat on your back. His hands are on your face, firm on your cheeks as his voice starts wavering. 

“What-what do I do? Tell me how to fix this, I-” 

“Candy. Or anything sugar should-” 

You can’t even finish the sentence before he bolts up, rummaging through the drawers before he returns. His touch is so gentle, so featherlike, as he helps you up, his hands shaking as he helps you drink the juice. 

His hand is rubbing circles into your back, his cheek pressed into the top of your head as you both slow your breathing. And when you level out, Satoru’s hands are pressed around your face again, cupping your cheeks again. 

“You okay, Bonnie?” 

Bonnie. Like that summer, when you were Bonnie and Clyde. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re positive?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Perfect. Are you a fucking dumbass?” 

You lean your face out of his touch, more confused and disoriented than before. You-you just passed out and he’s yelling at you? 

“Satoru. You’re so rude. I just-”

“Yes, Y/N. I’m yelling at you. I’m yelling at you because we literally live together and are married and you didn’t tell me you have fucking diabetes.” 

“Okay. And?” 

“And? You can’t be fucking serious right now-” 

He pushes off the couch, pacing back in forth in front of you as he starts yelling, angrily running his hands through your hair. 

“You’re-you’re this fucking mad at me? It was one job. And you-you would compromise your health over it?” 

“This isn’t compromising my health. I just didn’t know there would be a storm and-” 

“Y/N. Oh my fucking god, get it through your thick head. I’m your emergency contact. If you were fucking dying in a hospital and they ask me what’s wrong with you, I wouldn’t know. And then they would probably kill you because I didn’t know you had diabetes.” 

You lean your head back against the couch, feeling the strain all at once. You’re drained. And you hate it when Satoru’s right. Because he is your emergency contact, because he’s your husband - whether you like it or not. 

After not responding right away, Satoru leans back onto the couch with you, a hand pressed in your hair. He’s brushing through the tresses, his voice soft when he speaks again. 

“God, Bonnie. Just let me take care of you.” 

“That didn’t work out wel-

“Well for you last time. Quit saying the same shit over and over again. That was three years ago. And we’re…married now. I’m..supposed to take care of you now and I’m going to so just let me.” 

You deflate as he keeps running his hands through your hair, the lack of insulin and energy surely imparing your inhibitions. 

“Fine.” 

He turns over to you, a wide smirk pressed against his face. 

“Fine? You, Y/N L/N, agreeing with me?” 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

He laughs, leaning his head against yours as he moves his arm down your back, squeezing your side once before he talks again. 

“Got any other big secrets you’re keeping from me?” 

“I murdered a guy. He’s in our attic.” 

“Ouch. What did he do, Bonnie?” 

“It was an accident. I thought he was you.” 

He presses your face into his hand, rolling his eyes at you. 

--

Satoru is pleasantly surprised to find out that you don’t argue with just him, your unfiltered and unabashed rage is something that you do with everyone. Your latest victim? Your little brother, Yuuta. 

You’ve been screaming at him for a better part of the past hour, because Yuuta’s being a fucking idiot. Yuuta was never into the whole arranged marriage, higher society thing. And you knew that. 

You just never think he’d come to your place, asking you and Satoru for money so he could run away with Maki. 

“This is the wrong move, Yuu. You’re only nineteen.” 

“I have to do this now. I can’t do what you did. I don’t care if you like him now and you’re friends or whatever, I just really…really love her, okay?” 

“You love her? Then stop being a fucking idiot about it. You’re both making a stupid decision that’s just going to hurt you. You can’t just run away from your problems.” 

“Y/N. You’re always think you know what’s best and you control-” 

“Yuuta, you little piece of-” 

Satoru stops you before you walk further, yanking you back by firmly pulling on your wrist. He leans forward, whispering I got this in your ear before yanking Yuuta out of your apartment and down the opposite block of Cornelia Street. 

When they return, they both have the audacity to be smiling, Yuuta holding two cups of Coppola’s Coffee in his hand. He sets one in front of you, awkwardly brushing his hand against his neck. 

“Sorry, Y/N. You’re right.” 

You smile. 

“What was that? I didn’t really hear you.” 

“You were right.” 

“One more time. A little louder, Yuu.” 

He rolls his eyes as he grabs his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. He walks back, pressing a kiss to your cheek and bidding goodbye to Satoru as he drags out the door. You turn to your side, glaring at Satoru. 

“What did you say to him?” 

“Ah, you know. The usual.” 

“The usual?” 

“Just talked him down. Told him if he really likes this Maki girl then he should ask us for help. We are his older siblings and all. That you just get mad because you care about him.”

You roll your eyes as you lie face down on the counter, cheeks burning. You’re his older siblings. Because Satoru’s his brother in law. You feel him tapping on your head, gleefully grinning at you. 

“What?” 

“Guess what time it is.” 

“You know, just because I pass out one time on accident doesn’t mean-” 

He presses his fingers to your lips, rolling his eyes as he places it in your hands. A pack of almonds. 

“Satoru.” 

“Did you know that almonds are the perfect snack? Because they’re high in magnesium, potassium-” 

“And vitamin E. Making the perfect nutrient-rich snack for those with impaired glucose tolerance.” you finish, mimicking his high pitched voice. 

He opens up the packet, pouring them all into your hand. And then he watches you eat every single one. You come up with an insult for each one you eat. 

“You’re a disgrace to humanity, Satoru.” 

“And?” 

“And a little pain in the ass. Like you know when you get a pimple stuck right in between your butt and it hurts to sit down? That’s what you are.” 

“Descriptive. Just one more almond and you’re done, Bonnie. Make the insult good.” 

“I don’t take orders from men. Least of all you.” 

You place the last one in your mouth, chewing and then sticking your tongue out to Satoru, to show you did in fact eat the entire thing. 

“That’s my girl. Not only does she eat all her food but hurls scathing insults at the same time.” 

“Being your biggest hater is my full time job, Satoru.” 

He laughs, pinching your cheek as he starts milling around the kitchen, preparing for dinner. Ever since you and Satoru got snowed in and he found out about everything, you…were both surprisingly tame. Not at Bonnie and Clyde pre-getting backstabbed levels, but he’s not…horrible to be around. And he never really was. 

Because Satoru’s thoughtful. He’s googled all the ways to control blood sugar, reserached different pods for you to try, and always tries to balance the dinner (that you now let him make for you) to make sure that you’re eating all right. 

And he’s funny. He’s convinced you into watching the Bachlorette with him every week. And you’re above corny reality shows but his commentary is just so ridiculous you can’t help but watch with him. 

And he even got Yuuta and Maki to like him now. 

And really, it’s all types of irritating because you like him. You actually like him. He backstabbed you into oblivion but he’s also the sweetest, most compassionate guy you’ve ever talked to and you like him. 

You push off the counter, reaching for the cupboard and yank out the biggest glass of wine you can find. As soon as you finish pouring almost the entire bottle into the glass, Satoru snatches it out of your hand, cheekily smiling at you. 

“Thank you, Bonnie.” 

“I was going to drink that, Satoru.” 

“Diabetics should drink in moderation. Can’t have you passing out on me now.” 

“That was one time. You could share, you know.” 

He rolls his eyes as he hands you the glass, your hands burning from it. How intimate it is. That you and Satoru are sharing a glass, all warm and drowsy from the drink. And when he grabs your hand, leading you onto the little patio just off of your roof, you follow. Blindly. 

You’re both laying against the bricks, the lights of the city reflecting into the sky. There aren’t any stars out, only the tinted white of the fluorescnets against the dark sky. 

“Why’d you pick Cornelia Street, Bonnie?” 

“It’s quiet. And I always walked down it - when I used to go to class and then after when I started walking to work. I’ve always liked all the little people bustling by with Coppola’s on the corner.” 

“Hm.” 

“What?” 

“So do you like that kid who peed on the block last week?” 

“Ew. Gross, Satoru.” 

He laughs, leaning back on the tiles, beckoning for you to move closer to him. He opens up his arm, which you lean into, his arm wrapped around yours. The tiles are kind of digging into your back, but you ignore it because you don’t want to move and risk Satoru moving away from you. 

“Do you like Cornelia Street, Satoru?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m moved by the passion, Satoru. You can’t imagine yourself anyplace else, can you?” 

He looks over, blue eyes glimmering under the shy flourescents of the building, his voice firm as he answers. 

“No. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.” 

And from the look on his eyes, the way your skin is itching from the way he’s looking at you…you know he’s not talking about Cornelia Street. 

“Are you-” 

“Talking about Cornelia Street? I’m not, Bonnie. I’m talking about the girl who loves Cornelia Street.” 

You reach over, timidly pressing your hand to Satoru’s face as you shift his face over, his cheeks warm under your touch. He’s moving forward, eyes fluttered shut and you can feel your heart hammering under your chest. 

And when he presses his lips to yours, soft and plush with a hint of wine on his mouth, you can’t help but feel it all untangling in your chest. Unraveling. The way you feel about him, those stupid blue eyes and that lopsided smile. 

Because all of those summers ago, it wasn’t that you liked working with the Zenin’s. It’s that you liked working with Satoru. And it wasn’t a backstab to not get to work with the Zenin’s, it was that Satoru didn’t want you to work with him. 

He snakes his hand under your shirt, his touch featherlike but blossoming searing light onto your skin. 

“Satoru. This is public indecency.” 

He presses his head into your neck, peppering soft kisses into your neck as he responds. 

“Bonnie and Clyde were criminals, silly girl.”  

--

“Almonds, Bonnie.” 

“Satoru.” 

“Nope. Eat ‘em and we’ll go.” 

You roll your eyes as you tilt the packet back, shoving them all into your mouth. Satoru gives you a gleeful grin and a kiss on the forehead as he shoves you out the door. Satoru walks you to work everyday. And back home on the way back. To protect you from lewd street pee. 

You get coffee from Coppolas every morning, the barista always giving the two of you a shining smile. Whenever the flower vendors pass by, Satoru always buys you the pink ones, which make your heart pound but you always clown him for. 

Satoru insists that you wear your wedding ring everyday. And buys one for himself too, which he forces you to put on him. And he encourages you - to be better. Which is why you’re going to try again. 

“Toru.” 

“Hm, Bonnie?” 

“Can you do me a favor on your way to work?” 

“Sure.” 

“Mail this for me.” 

You hand him your job application, to work with the Zenin’s and Satoru, to fix what happened the first time. Granted, Satoru doesn’t really work with the Zenin’s anymore, but instead a different firm, but they do partner up sometimes. 

In a way, asking Satoru to do this for you is righting a wrong. Because he should put in a good word for you this time, so you can actually get your dream job. Because whatever stopped him the first time isn’t there now - he’s told you hundreds of times that you’re brilliant, the smartest person he’s ever met - so there’s no logical reason for him not to. 

So when you find the application in his bag, six days after the fact while looking for his phone, you’re a little bit confused. 

“Toru.” 

“Hm?” 

“Did you hear back from Toji? About the job?” 

“Ah, yeah. He’s not really into it. I gave it to him but he said there’s no associate openings.” 

Liar. As always, Satoru Gojo is a fucking liar. And it’s stupid. It’s so stupid of you to think otherwise. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you shove your things into your backpack and swing it over your shoulder. 

And you almost walk out the door before he catches you. 

“Hey. Where are we going, Bonnie?” 

“I’m leaving. You’re staying here.” 

You watch the smile fall off of his face, the grip on your wrist loosening. 

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” 

“You really hate me that much, don’t you? You couldn’t even hand it in for real this time? You have that little faith in the work that I can do?” 

“This-this isn’t about the faith I have in you. You’re brilliant and I’ve always thought that about you. It’s just that it’s not right-” 

“Not right for me? Because working at one of the best law firms isn’t right for me? I should just slum it out where I’m at now.” 

“Bonnie, I can explain-” 

And you run straight out the door, flat off of Cornelia Street. 

--

Satoru doesn’t hear from you for nine days. And it’s pure agony. Waking up without you next to him. Watching people mill by on Cornelia Street, getting Coppola’s without you. The barista doesn’t even smile at him anymore. 

And when that stupid kid pees on the block again, he can’t even laugh at it. Because Cornelia Street without you is all types of wrong. 

He wakes up every morning, promptly at 7:30. Because if what you said is right, you take Cornelia Street on the way to work when you walk from home. But you never do. He’s never seen you walk past, not even once. 

You’re still going to work. He knows that because Maki told him so. Yuuta isn’t really talking to him anymore, but Maki begrudgingly gives him slivers of information that he lives off of. 

She’s going to work, just a different way. 

Yes, I gave her the almond packets. 

No, she doesn’t want to talk to you. 

But he knows you have to come back. Because your sewing machine and your vinyls and all your things are here. Because some selfish part of him thinks you have to come back because it’s him. Because some small part of you loves him the way the entirety of him has always loved you. 

So much so, that he’s had selfish intentions from the start. To protect you. 

If he was a smart guy, he would have picked you to be his partner when he was working with the Zenin’s straight out. Because you’re a dream team, because no one picks at his mind and makes him work in circles the way you do. 

But when he brought you up to Toji, it eliminated any possibility you had of working here. Because the Zenin’s are disgusting, misogynistic pigs. 

Toji said he would hire you on one condition. That Satoru shares you with him. Because Toji had caught on to the affections Satoru had held for you in earnest but still wanted his fair share of the cut. Because he’s still an old money lawyer, who uses his own power to his advantage. Because your pretty face is the only reason he hired you in the first place. 

He picks Getou the next time he sees Toji. And he never hears from you again. And that’s okay, because you end up working with Utahime at a different firm and he knows that you’re safe from this. And dear god does he miss you, but it is better than the alternative. 

And when your parents bring you together, because you’re both lawyers and that’s a common interest, he’s more than happy to sign the papers. Because it’s his chance to right his wrong. Because he still wants to be Bonnie and Clyde, in all the ways that matter. 

You pass out in his arms and his world stops. Because he’s always wanted to protet you, and he recognizes that some part of that is selfish because you can protect yourself, but god he just wants to take care of you because you mean something to him. 

And when you leaned over and kissed him, Satoru loves you. He loves you and he loves Cornelia Street and he loves everything you love. Because anything you like is anything he likes. You could tell him that you hate the sky and he’d never look at it again. 

But when you hand him that shiny job application, asking for his support, he can’t. Because now more than ever, he can’t let his wife even stand near idiots like Toji. The thought of someone thinking about you like that, let alone doing something like that is enough to send him into a blind rage, that would most definitely get him blacklisted from literally any workplace. 

And dear god does he wish you would have heard him out when you left. Because he would have told you. That you were all types of brilliant, that you keep him on his toes, that you’re the only god damn thing he’s ever wanted. 

That he can’t let you work there because he loves you. Because he wants you to be happy always, to be surrounded by people who respect you for you, who think you’re just as brilliant as you actually are. 

And he’d actually be able to do that if he could fucking find you. He wanders a different street everyday, hoping to catch you walking to work. It’s currently day nine and he has yet to find success. But when he sees them, shiny black loafers across the sidewalk, he runs into incoming traffic just to catch you. 

He gets angry honks and yelling because New Yorkers are always rude, but he doesn’t care. You’re like a ghost. You can get away if he doesn’t walk fast enough. And when he catches your elbow, stopping you from walking, he knows he’s done it. 

“Bonnie.” 

“Satoru. Why are you…panting?” 

“Ran into traffic.” 

“Wish they hit you.” 

He takes you in. And just like Maki said, you’re fine. Well, you look fine. A bit angry, that stupid vein bulging out on your forehead, but you’re okay. 

“Why don’t you walk on Cornelia Street?” 

“What?” 

“You said you picked Cornelia Street because it’s on the way to work. That you like to watch the people on Cornelia Street and Coppola’s on the corner. You haven’t walked there for nine days. Why?” 

He watches you roll your eyes as you shake his hand off, walking past him. But Satoru’s faster, basically pinning you into the wall by putting his arms around you. 

“Give me an answer.” 

“No, Satoru.” 

“Bonnie. You love Cornelia Street. Have since you were a kid. Why aren’t you walking there?” 

You can feel the tears rising up in your eyes, the anger bubbling out of you as you respond. 

“Because of you, asshole. Because Cornelia Street is you. I see that dumbass teenager piss on the street and all I can think about is how you think it’s funny. The guy selling flowers? I think about which ones you would pick out and buy for me. Coppola’s? The girl does’t even smile at me anymore. I don’t walk Cornelia Street because I can’t. Because it’s all you now. Everything I like there reminds me of you.” 

He can feel it. His heart burning. He can still make this right. 

“She’s kind of a bitch, you know? She doesn’t smile at me either.” 

You laugh, your chest heaving from the pain. Because seeing him again makes your chest burn. Ache. Because you miss him and because you love him. And when he opens his arms and shoves you into his chest, his smell in your nose, all you can do is cry, cheeks burning into his skin. 

“Bonnie.” 

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you. You’re a back stabber.” 

“If you let me explain, I would-” 

“Fine. Let’s hear your great explanation.” 

So when you start making your way back, he explains. That he’s selfish. And a back-stabber. And when he tells you what Toji says, he doesn’t miss the way you cringe, the way your face goes blank when he thinks about it. 

About how he knows he should have told you but he hates to see you down. How Bonnie and Clyde was always going to be more than a work thing, but the thing he wants forever. 

And when you reach the front of the door, of your apartment on Cornelia Street, he can’t help but feel a weight in his chest. Because you’re quietly standing, staring at the door. Granted, you are holding his hand and it’s a good sigh, but…you haven’t said anything. 

“Satoru.” 

“Yes?” 

“I really…messed this up, didn’t I?”

“What?” 

And when you turn to his side, he’s floored at the fact that you’re crying. Begging him to stay with you. 

“Satoru. I-I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t walk away I, I don’t-” 

He clamps his hand over your mouth, shaking his head as you as he deflates. 

“God, Bonnie. You have no idea how I feel about you, do you?” 

“Huh?” 

“I love you. I want to walk Cornelia Street with you. I want to buy you flowers and check the mailbox with you. I want Yuuta and Maki to pretend to throw up when they see us kissing and I want to take care of you. If you’ll just let me, I’ll do it right.” 

And when you lean forward, the kiss is messy. Your tears are falling on to his face and he’s way too eager from the way he’s hanging off of your lips, the way he’s literally shaking you in his hold. 

You walk Cornelia Street the next day. And you’re part of the constants of the street. The guy selling flowers, the fresh fruit cart on Saturdays, lewd pee kid when he’s drunk, and two very happy in love lawyers.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06@bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot@itzmeme

[whyfalloutwhenyoucanpanic]

Part two of getting ready for Justice Live in Chicago!

Bracelets are mostly done (for now unless I need to make more lol). I made a total of 28, 14 for each night to hand out to people in line and in the venue at barricade. It’s been super fun making these (and I had to restock beads twice now, and I have to go buy more LOL), especially with the new beads I found while out shopping and the cross beads just look way too cool.

I also made special bracelets for only my friends who I’m meeting up with! All of them have charms that match with the bracelets I made based off what I know about them and references to track titles and their interests!

I also finished packing up and sealing the postcards for night two! I wanted to make these look like ones you’d be given after a show if you wanted tomorrow tell people out about your trip, and since my friends and I are traveling from all over for this show, I thought making post cards was perfect! I actually got this whole set of 6 custom cards with envelopes for free because of an account discount so it worked out perfectly! There’s a hyperdrama cross sticker in the envelopes too!

The gifts for Xav and Gaspard, I originally was going to only do the bracelets but I thought, “actually I want to give them something else too” so I made photocards, one for each of them, specifically for them. A friend made ones for them when meeting them at the LA pop up, and I thought the idea was super cool. Seeing their really positive reactions (Xavier thought it was super funny and he liked his lol), I was thinking (and along with some encouragement from my friends who are going, and also my good friends, thank you @crydadoll and @torrtimandi 🫶), how fun it would be to make and gift them a second set lol. I’m also including some of the stickers I’m handing out to people as well in their bags as well! (See below, the cross and Ed rec stickers)

My plan is to put little cross bead charms on the bags, which are black mesh bags, (I originally wanted to use the ones in the below pic but they’re too small lol. I have to get larger ones), and adding little gold label tags with their names on them and a little gold cross drawing.

I also made stacks of Ed Banger, Hyperdrama cross and Cross stickers as well! Every sticker is hand-made and hand cut and I can’t wait to gift them to everyone!

I’m so excited for Chicago and can’t wait to meet up with everyone who’s going. There’s word their new encore might be permanent which is cool because I can’t wait to hear it live in person! It’ll be cool too because it means I have heard both encores this tour! :)

Also this venue is absolutely insane! Such a perfect venue for their live set and the acoustics and sound is going to be AMAZING! People mention about how this venue is legendary for a reason and I’m so excited to experience it, and ALSO because it is also my first time going to this venue!

My plan is ask/have Xav and Gaspard sign either my CD (I forgot it last time) or have them sign a piece of paper atleast LOL, after they come down from the stage after the encore and hand them their gift bags on the second night. For night one, I plan on gifting them their other bracelets (the ones with their names in gold beads) after they come down from stage after the encore.

These two shows and visiting Chicago are definitely going to be a trip to remember forever!

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Chemical Reaction [Part One] Allure [Shang Tsung]

A/n: Again, I apologize for posting these one-shots in separate pieces. It's easier for me because so many scene jumps in my writing annoy me. I have a problem, I know. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): Female reader insert, worry, Shang being Shang, reader can manipulate flora, lewd thoughts, coy behavior, manipulative comfort.

No Minors Allowed!!

Echinacea…Lavender…Calend–

You press your lips into a thin line. Where are the Calendula seeds? Peering into the wax paper envelope where you had stored them, you regrettably confirm that there are none left. When did you last use them, you wonder in puzzlement. You suppose it does not matter in the end. What matters is that you are fresh out and in need of more. 

The few Calendulas that you have are not yet ready, though, with your magic, you can accelerate their growth instantaneously. What takes time is drying out the flowers and giving the seeds time to brown before harvesting them, then replanting. Rinse, repeat. Normally you have all the time in the world to work, but the Queen of Edenia, Sindel, wants you to prepare balms and salves for the approaching tournament. 

You could go without Calendula balm, you reckon. It is used as a pain and inflammation reducer, but without it, you would be unprepared. What are you to do, though? In order for your magic to work, you need a source; nature, seeds. Edenia is rich with exotic flowers, but the day would be wasted locating them. You suppose you could buy seeds from the market in Sun Do, but…

Shang. 

Now you remember. You had given him seeds and taught him how to grow them after an experimental incident left his hands blistered and in need of care. 

His laboratory is not far, you note; the walk you have made several times before. While the sorcerer is often snarky, he is a man to be admired based on his skill and magic. Not to mention, he is extremely desirable. You like him well enough, so without much hesitancy, you leave your house and walk to the dilapidated tower where he conducts whatever experiments he does to benefit the royal family. 

The low creek of the water wheels outside permeate the warm air as you approach the front door. You knock to be polite, but seeing as Shang Tsung is typically lost in his work when you stop by to visit, you saunter on in, searching around the bottom level for him. He does not seem to be at his desk, nor is he roaming around where you can see him, though this does not mean that he is not home; there are two other levels he could be on. You have never been on the upper floors before; you have no business exploring them. 

“Shang! Are you here!?” You shout. 

He answers soon after. 

“I will be but a moment!”

You leave him to wrap up whatever it is that he is doing and saunter over to his mahogany desk near the stairs. As you wait, you tinker with a bonsai tree resting on a stack of old books that you can not make out the names of. You do not remember seeing it the last time you had come to visit, but that had been a fortnight ago. Regardless, it is budding. You raise your hand, using your magic to accelerate its growth. In awe, you watch as the buds instantaneously bloom into beautiful pink flowers, filling the stale air with a soft floral scent. 

It certainly gives the room more color now.

“I see you have made yourself at home,” Shang Tsung states.

You turn and watch him descend the stairs.

“I apologize. I should have asked you first.” Noticing the look of annoyance on his face, you frown. “Did I…come at a bad time?”

“Not at all. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Shang Tsung asks. His expression softens as he approaches the desk, but there is still a furrow in his brow.

You do not want to exacerbate his mood, so you cut to the chase. 

“I ran out of Calendula seeds and I haven't the time to dry out the few flowers that I do have. I was hoping that you might have some.” 

“Perhaps,” Shang Tsung drawls. 

You pout. Is he seriously toying with you? 

I swear he's a sadist. 

“Please, Shang. I would forever be in your debt.” 

He smirks, a sure sign that you have humored him.

“Wait here.” 

Leaving your sight, he returns a short time later with a wax paper envelope and hands it to you. The squid-shaped seeds of the Calendula plant are brown and stored well, making you sigh in relief. 

“I'm so grateful.”

“I presume so,” Shang Tsung utters. 

He tilts his head in curiosity and looks you over, then meets your eyes again. 

“Are you troubled with something? You can confide in me, you know.” 

Of course. Every time you feel burdened, the sorcerer can tell. And every time he offers for you to voice your concerns to him. With an uneasy breath, you lean against the edge of the desk. Aside from being unprepared, there is something deeper eating at you. 

“I suppose it is the tournament I am worried about. I'm never so unprepared, but also it feels rather pointless. Outworld so often loses to Earthrealm.”

Shang Tsung grins, then places his hand on your shoulder as if to comfort you, an act that makes your heart race. 

“Do you doubt Empress Sindel?” 

Your eyes widen in shock.

“No. That is not what I'm saying.”

You are simply trying to express how pointless it is to stress so much over the matter. The reason for the tournament you understand. It is to maintain peace. If Lord Liu Kang, who preaches peace, wanted to conquer Outworld with his champions, you imagine it sadly would not be hard since no one in the realm has yet to best him. You doubt this will happen, but life is sometimes cruel. 

I just hope the Empress knows what she is doing.

Shang Tsung grins. 

“Your concerns show just cause.” He wets his lips, then leans in closer. The warm and sweet scent of jasmine invades your senses. “Would you like for me to help you ease your stress, my dear?”

An embarrassed heat spreads to your face. Is he low-key asking if you want for him to fuck you? All of a sudden you feel lightheaded, as though you stood up too fast. The sudden thought of him thrusting his cock to the base inside of you sends a tickle of arousal through your body. 

“A-are you sure?”

What if he says yes? The question then remains, do you want him to? A part of you is unsure, but the other funnily enough welcomes the idea.

His soft chuckle snaps you from your thoughts.

“Of course, my dear. There are an abundance of elixirs that I can make to soothe your worries.” 

You are discomfited. 

“Oh…right.”

Shang Tsung raises a curious brow, then as though it dawns on him, he smirks. 

“Your thoughts are rather…wicked. Are they always such?”

“No,” you answer quickly. Honestly, you do not understand why your thoughts immediately went to something sexual with him. It's like they are in tune with your body. “Your tone was misleading.” 

“My tone.” Shang Tsung snorts. “I always speak in this tone.”

Does he? You try to remember a time in which he had spoken to another in the same coy tone, but there is not a memory that you can compare it to. 

“I will manage,” you reassure him. “Thank you.”

You avert your eyes to the seeds in your hand, then clear your throat. It is strangely dry and tight. 

“I should return home. There is a lot to do.”

His hand tightens around your shoulder, then he releases you and takes a step back. 

“If you need me, I am always here.”

You nod to show that you have taken his words into consideration, then with trembling legs, you walk to the door. As you exit the tower, the scent of nature fills your nostrils; earthy and rich. After a few deep breaths, you feel much better. Clear headed.

How strange. Could it have been the jasmine?

Or something else? 

[axcel-lucci]

Reader going on a little date with Law? You can use whatever type of prompt you’d like.💙

First date

Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

A/N: sorry if it took a bit of time since I am currently busy with my school and all that lol, also, I have never been to a date to I don't know exactly what happens there, I hope you like this!

Law could feel himself pace around his office all day, he claimed he was thinking, no he was not.

Internally, he was panicking.

He knows that any time soon he'd have to ask his crush, as childish as it sounds, out on a date... Or else someone will do it before him.

Shachi then bursted inside the room to tell him that they've arrived at an island only to pause when he saw his own captain's look of disarray and panic.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he closed the door behind him before walking up to law making him sigh heavily and lean against the desk.

"It's just..." Law rambled

"Wait... Are you finally thinking of asking her out??" Shachi seemed more excited than Law, "oh my fucking-- you should've told me sooner! Let me grab penguin, just a sec!"

Shachi ran out leaving Law to stare at the now wide open door, kind of amused and surprised he's more excited.

Soon, he came back with penguin and closed the door

"Shachi filled me in... Law, this is your chance! We're in a very lovely island!" Penguin explained, "I heard through the vents that (y/n) LOVES tropical islands. Why don't you bring her to a restaurant tonight?"

"Through... The vents?" Law mumbled

"Okay I may be a little bit eavesdropping but hey, it's to our advantage, right??" Penguin huffed

"Law, quick! Let's go out and buy her flowers and some delicious chocolates!" Shachi said, pulling on Law's arm

"That won't sway her. Sure the flowers would be lovely, but it would just wilt and die..." Law muttered under his breath

It made the two pause, "hmm... How will you ask her out... Though?" Shachi hummed to himself, thinking.

"Oh, I know! Why won't you write a letter to her? We'll let it slip to her and pretend we don't know so she can read it with us!" Penguin suggested

Law hummed a bit, "I guess that could work... And what, at the end I'll ask her to go out with me and meet me at a specific place if she likes me back?"

"Yes!" The two said in unison

It made law sigh and groan internally, but inside... He's grateful to have friends like these two. For all their idiotic personalities, he still appreciated how they look after him, stay loyal to him, and even die for him.

Law pulls out a neat sheet of paper and starts to write before feeling the glares behind him making him shiver and embarrassed, "s-stop doing that! Get out of here! I need peace to write!" He flustered making the two chuckle and laugh before leaving to stand outside the door

It made him sighs before smiling, still thankful how they wanted to help him out of free will.

And after a few minutes of drafts and corrections, he finally sealed his heartfelt letter into an envelope, strictly addressed to (y/n) as he walked out and saw the two standing by the door.

"Here... Don't read it, alright?" Law huffed as he hands the letter to the two who kept snickering

"Say, captain..."

'here it goes... The teasing...' law thought

"If (y/n) and you managed to become a thing, don't forget our help and treat us to at least some drinks!" Shachi huffed

"Fine... Just... Tell me how she reacted to the letter, alright?" Law said as the two nodded and excitedly left, though he wasn't too relieved that it was done.

He had set that they were to meet at the island's park two days from now, maybe around sundown, letting him go and look around the island itself and familiarise himself so that he could see where he could take (y/n) to.

The day finally arrived, Law had dressed to his best casual outfit.

A black button up polo with the top part being slightly unbuttoned, his jeans, and left his fluffy hat, as well as his sword, on the sub.

Though he kept a small pebble in his pocket just in case.

He held a small boquet of flowers in his trembling hands as he sat on one of the benches, staring into nothing whole hopefully convincing himself that she'd arrive, that she would come.

When it was time for their meet up, he couldn't help but be swallowed by anxiety and slight fear that she may not show up, or if she read theetter at all.

He started to sweat out of nervousness

"Law!" He heard a familiar voice call him, making him immediately turn his head towards the voice, only to then find himself with an open mouth and the ability to stare without blinking.

There she was, in the prettiest casual dress he's ever seen that was worn by her, an off shoulder floral dress that stopped by her knees and some white sandals to match the look.

All he could do was stand up to greet her as she walked up to him

"I received your letter and..." She trailed off, "and... I like you too, law." She smiled gently yet sweetly making him melt.

"O-oh... Oh! Uh... H-here..." Law muttered as he hands her the bouquet of flowers he bought, "i-i thought... Uh... It fits your dress..." He muttered awkwardly

She smiled softly as she takes the flowers from him, their hands brushing ever so slightly, "is... This your first date?"

"I... Ugh... Yeah... Sorry it's just... I'm just nervous... Is all... I mean-!" Law sputtered with a slight blush

It made her chuckle softly, "it's okay... It's... My first time too, and I feel very nervous... I thought you were joking but no you didn't...! And... I'm glad... So does that mean we're...?" She explains and asks.

Law could feel himself warm up as his heart started pumping more and more against his chest, "y-yes... We're... Dating now... And this is our first date..." He said, still not too sure if he was dreaming or not, "a-anyway... I have a reanged for us some things for tonight, I hope you like it..."

"How will I know if it hasn't happened yet...?" She smiled once more with a slight head tilt

'fuck! She's so damn cute!' he though before breathing slowly to calm his heart, "okay... Uh... T-this way to the restaurant..." He said as he leads the way for the both of them.

The whole night, Law knew it was too good to be true to the point he cherished this dream, he didn't know they shared so many interests, making him fall for her more.

And as the night ended, they were walking back to the sub, hand in hand, laughing.

At this point, Law didn't care if it was a dream or not. He just knows that she's his now... And he is hers...

They walked into the now quiet sub, walking down the hall as Law stopped by her door, waiting for her to get in before leaving, but before she does, she needs to tell him something;

"Thank for this evening, Law... I enjoyed it... I loved it..." She smiled, "I hope there are more of these in the future"

"I'll make sure of it" he smiled softly.

She giggled softly and leaning up to kiss his cheek, "good night Law" she said before entering her room

Law on the other hand, his brain was short circuiting at how he could still feel her lips pressed in his cheek, and how the warmth had stayed.

It slowly brought a small, shy smile unto his face with a slightly flustered blush

'shw... She kissed me...!' he repeated over and over and over again until he passed out on his bed, dreaming of more things like these...

Bonus:

"So, how was your date?" Shachi asked the next day

"Wait... It wasn't a dream?!" Law gasped in shock

"You thought it was...?" (Y/n) laughed behind him before walking up to his side, "I guess you need a wake up call"

"What wake up call-" Law cuts himself off when (y/n) leaned up and kissed his forehead

"There, all awake now?" She teased slightly

It made him flustered and embarrassed but he was happy it wasn't a dream.

Or else he would've cried in the corner of his office, sulking... Too...

[flyingwargle]

sunaosa week day 7: past / future

suna stands in the center of his living room, hands on his hips, surrounded by boxes. after a long and successful volleyball career, it’s time for him to hang up his court shoes, fold the compression sleeves, and frame the jerseys. his retirement press conference went without a hitch, and so did his farewell party with ejp. all that’s left is to pack up his apartment, and move everything to his new home with his husband in hyogo.

it's the start of a new chapter.

osamu is in the kitchen, carefully wrapping the glassware in newspaper and old copies of volleyball monthly. he straightens to stretch his back, suna watching out of the corner of his eye. “everything good over there?” he asks.

“yeah. where are ya gonna donate these?”

“probably the nearby restaurants. “i’ll bring the cups to ejp.” they were always short on coffee mugs in the lounge, and most of his are in good condition. “washio said he’ll take the pots and pans, komori will take the air fryer, and nagito wants the blender.” osamu insisted they’ll buy everything new for their kitchen, which is why most of it is being pawned off.

“i put the pots’n’pans in a box fer him. he can just take it whenever.”

suna nods, then surveys the living room. they’re taking his tv, but donating the coffee table, couch, porch chairs, and shelves. the books and pictures are already packed, accolades safely wrapped and sealed. the bathroom is packed too, towels tossed with his clothes, toiletries spent. all that’s left is his bedroom.

it’s surprisingly cluttered, despite how little he brought with him. leading up to his retirement, he donated most of his training gear, along with clothes that no longer fit. he prepares a box and starts going through his desk drawers, filled with old receipts, invoices, contracts, and documents. osamu joins him, recycling bin in hand. “thought ya might need this.”

“thanks.” suna inspects each piece of paper before tossing it, just in case. osamu continues to pack the clothes in another box, an effort that suna abandoned halfway for a change of pace. they work quietly, until–

“hey, rin. look at this.”

suna turns around. osamu has a wrinkled envelope in hand, his name addressed on the front. it’s sealed shut, so he fetches a pair of scissors from the kitchen to slice it open. “did ya write me a love letter at one point?”

“actually…”

inside are three folded pieces of paper. osamu stares at the first page – specifically, the date. “ya wrote this…five years ago?”

he nods, joining him on the floor. “yeah.”

“were ya gonna send it ta me, or…”

“i was, but…well, you know what happened.” although many of their friends call them high school sweethearts, they broke up when they were 21, were exes for three years, and then got back together on new year’s on the cusp of the fourth. the reasons for their separation sound amateurish now – they couldn’t handle the distance, they were chasing parallel dreams, they couldn’t, didn’t, wouldn’t make time for each other.

while they were separated, osamu opened three more onigiri miya locations; suna played in the olympics and overseas. osamu won awards for his food and service; suna became sponsored by top brands and corporations. osamu starred in documentaries and television shows; suna was featured in interviews and press conferences.

when they met again during the new year’s party organized by inarizaki alumni, both agreed that it made sense to try again, now that they were older, smarter, better. it led to an engagement. it led to marriage. it led to this.

a life together, walking down a singular path.

“i was in chicago, i think. i felt homesick after eating at a japanese restaurant because their onigiri…reminded me of you.” suna’s arm snakes around osamu’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder to read his own writing, shaky kanji after years of writing mostly english. “i missed you, but i couldn’t tell you, so i…wrote you a letter.”

he remembers that night vividly. his teammates took him there for his birthday, where all the dishes were recipes passed down through the owner’s family. as he ate, all he could think about was home, but what came to mind wasn’t aichi, hyogo, nor shizuoka. instead, it was osamu.

osamu, who would video call him for hours while working in the kitchen. osamu, who would reply to his memes or shitposts with equally cursed content. osamu, who would sleep shirtless so he could absorb suna’s body heat, even in the middle of winter.

when home is a person that you can’t have, what does home become?

osamu flips to the second page. the kanji is messier, strokes uneven, with increasing amounts of hiragana to substitute the characters that suna couldn’t remember how to write. he is quiet, eyes traveling across the lines, pensive. then, he reaches the last page, which only contains a few lines.

when i’m with you, i feel timeless, because my love for you is infinite, no matter the distance or time. i used to fear what the life without volleyball would look like, but i’m not afraid anymore, because i know that it’ll always be with you.

“rin.” a hand finds his, the slim silver band digging into his skin. suna looks into osamu’s eyes, the same as he did on their wedding day, and sees nothing but love in its depths, an endless pool constructed of memories between them, from the first day they met at inarizaki, to now, sitting on his floor among boxes, packing a past to bring into the future.

“i never told ya, but in all those years…i never stopped lovin’ ya, either.” his voice rumbles deep and tight, the telltale sign that he’s holding back tears. “i knew why we had ta do it, but…if i were more selfish, i woulda asked ta keep tryin’, an’ tryin’, an tryin’. yer worth all my effort.”

“i wish we were both more selfish,” suna murmurs. “but look. we made it.” he puts their hands together, matching bands gleaming in the light. “you’re a successful business owner. i had the best volleyball run of my life. and now, we have each other. we’ll always have each other.”

the letter falls as they kiss, enveloped in one another’s warmth. there is one part of the writing where the ink is smudged, paper slightly wrinkled, relics of tears shed for a lost love, now a witness to a love that is eternal, that will light their way through the unknown, that will guide them to a new life.

together.

[fishyishy]

A3! Translation - Ikaruga Misumi SSR 【Heart Deliverer】 「Triangle Letter Set」 (1/3)

Misumi: Today's night breeze is cooling isn't it~.

Cat: Meow meow~.

Misumi: Ee, who came back?

Misumi: .....That's right, it's Sakyo~! Looks like he got home late today.

Cat: Mrrrooow......

Misumi: Cat-san, you look sleepy already~. Should we get going home now?

Cat: Meoww~.

Misumi: Yup, see you later! Night night.

Misumi: (That's right. Before I go back to my room, I need to tell Sakyo welcome home!)

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

Misumi: Sakyo, welcome home!

Sakyo: Ikaruga, huh. At this hour, I'm surprised you even noticed I was back.

Misumi: I was just chatting with Cat-san on the roof, and then they told me that Sakyo had come back home, just like that!

Sakyo: I see, so that's what happened.

Misumi: You came back late today. Were you busy at work~?

Sakyo: No, it's just that the other day, my group set up a takoyaki stand at a certain Tanabata festival. Because of that, we were just having drinks at the after-party.

Sakyo: I did help out, but I initially declined their invitation saying the party wasn't worth attending.

Misumi: But you still went anyways!

Sakyo: These youngin's don't want to listen to me whenever I say I don't want to drink with them sometimes. For god's sake, I only helped out with a few takoyaki.....

Misumi: You say it was only a few, but I feel like every summer, Sakyo's always making takoyaki at various summer festivals~

Sakyo: Well, I can't deny it but.....

MIsumi: (Summer festivals huh~. Come to think of it, I had a lot of fun going to a festival with Madoka the other day)

Misumi: (I wonder when another festival will be held this year? I'll make sure to look it up later)

Sakyo: Well then, I'll be heading back up to my rom. You, don't stay up to late either.

Misumi: Yeee~s, night night!

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

Kazunari: Yoohoo, Kumopi! Where's Sumi?

Kumon: Welcome in, Kazu-san! Sumi-san has the day off from his part-time job today!

Misumi: What's up~?

Kazunari: I found a super cool triangle, so I thought I should show it to you, Sumi!

Misumi: Eeeeh, a nice triangle!? I want to know more about it~!

Kumon: Me too-!

Kazunari: Look, this letter set is being sold on this online store! It makes an amazeballs triangle, right?

Misumi: Uwaaa, a triangular envelope!

Kazunari: This is a special letter set made by an individual designer. I just happened to come across its sale.

Misumi: Thank you for letting me know! I'll buy it right away~.

Misumi: ........Ehhhh, no way. Did it sell out some how?

Kumon: Ehhh!? No way, but it was for sale just a minute ago.....!

Kumon: It's okay, even if it sells out, if you wait a little, it'll be restocked in no time!

Kazunari: Hmmmm..... It's an individual artist, so it's hard to say that for sure. I could try and make a commission though....

Misumi: It was such a very beautiful triangle.......what a shame.....

Kumon: Kazu-san, is there anywhere else that sells triangular envelopes like the ones we just saw?

Kazunari: There might be, but why don't we just make our own triangular envelopes!?

Kazunari: Envelopes should be pretty easy to make, I think we just need paper, scissors, and glue!

Kumon: You're right, it seems like fun to be able to make our own envelopes! How about it, Sumi-san?

Misumi: I want to make triangular envelopes~!

Kazunari: Well then, let's meet up in the lounge later! I'll bring the materials with me.

Kazunari: Let's all try making our own original envelopes!

Kumon & Misumi: Yuuup!

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

I next

[rekindlevn]

what are their ways of saying "i love you" without saying "i love you"?

Is…. Is this a question on the boys love languages?

*scrambles all the notes and papers together*

We are glad you asked!

Spending quality time together is how Niko is going to show you his love. He’s busy, even as a kid he was juggling school with sports and modeling professionally, so for him to out everything aside to solely focus on you … well, it’s going to be difficult, but it’s certainly worth it to him!

It could be something extravagant, like maybe he could arrange for you to travel to see him in a runway show then he could take you out for a nice dinner after (or if he had the accommodations, he’d love to cook for you even more). It could also be something as simple as sitting under your favorite tree, holding hands and just finding peace in each other. If you’re ever feeling down, or if you’re ever feeling insecure in the relationship, he’ll move heaven and earth to make time to treat you like you’re the most important person on the planet – because to him, that’s exactly what you are.

Jules is such a silly boy. Mr Never Around loves and wants to be in your orbit, spending time with you and just feeling the warmth of you with him; Whether its with physical touch or just being in the same room. (We would like to rattle him for not only hurting you but also hurting himself with his decisions but that a discussion for another time)

Oh and also, please let him know he is doing well. Like, compliment him, let him know is doing well; He really needs that in his life.

Showing his love? That’s will be all the acts of service he will do for you :3

You have a complex coffee order? He knows it off by heart, and picks one up for you everyday without you needing to ask.

Wanting some dessert? Say no more he either already has it in the kitchen ready for you, or he will order it for you without you needing to ask. Again.

You saw this really cute plush that reminds you of him and just need it but you couldn’t because reason? He will surprise you with it within days cause he knew you wanted it and… well… I think you can see the pattern (❁´◡`❁)

You want it or need it? He has it or will do it. Happily

Markus does enjoy physical touch – if at all possible, he’s going to want to have at least a hand on you at all times. But you really know he’s down bad for you when he starts giving you little gifts. The thing is that he doesn’t have a lot of money, like really very, very little money, so a gift isn’t often going to be something he buys for you. Sometimes it can be a drawing (he’s good at it!), a sketch he’s done of you or some flowers because he can’t afford to buy you any.

Sometimes it can be a song that he wrote just for you. It doesn’t have to be a song he’s written, either – he could just learn your favorite song and play that for you. If you don’t want a big performance, he wouldn’t even have to pull out the guitar either, he could just sing to you quietly while having a cuddle. Handwritten letters, too.

Yeah, you live together, but maybe some days you’ll find an envelope on your pillow after getting home from work with a letter inside that describes in detail how madly in love he is with you. So that kind of gift-giving.

[iguana-eyanna]

NCIS: Damon Pt. 2

It's been two weeks since he's been in the hospital. He still couldn't fathom that he wasn't in the Navy anymore, and it hurt a part of him that couldn't be healed.

But what hurt most was that he may have lost you again.

Damon's been thinking a lot since he saw you. He wished he wouldn't have broken things off with you in the first place. He loved you with every bone in his body, but he was too scared to bring you into his messy life. But the damage was already done, and he regretted not being there for you and his baby girl.

So when Gibbs came to his hospital room and gave him a medal and a slip of paper that had your new address, he took it as a sign to make things right.

With the spare change he had, he took a cab and arrived at your doorstep in a small apartment. Damon took a breath and hesitated to knock at your door. And he stood there for what felt like a millennium until he heard his name.

"Damon?"

He turned around and saw you holding bags of groceries, looking beautiful as ever. He saw how your bump grew bigger the last time he saw you, and how tensed you must have been standing there.

"Could I help you with your bags?" Damon asked.

He could have said something along the lines of "I still love you" or "I'll be a better man and father for your baby" but he needed to earn your respect first.

"Y-yeah." You said with a bit of hesitance.

He came down the steps to help you as you unlocked the door. Inside, he found more spacious than it was outside. You had a big living room that connected to your kitchen and had a great view of the city. He placed the groceries on your counter as started to place the food in the fridge.

"You um - have a nice place." Damon said.

"Thanks, I saw it in an ad and thought moving closer to my job was the best decision. I got promoted and my hours changed."

"Congrats! That's... amazing." He said, taking a seat by the counter.

You paused where you stood in front of your fridge and turned toward him.

"I heard what happened about your discharged, I'm sorry." You said.

"No, don't be. This- this was my fault. All I wanted was to serve and I lost sight of what mattered most."

You nod in a small manner, using your hands to lean by the marbled countertop.

"What matters the most to you now?"

He hesitates and he looks up to you with teary eyes.

"Trying to be a better man for you."

Your heart began to ache. One part of you just wanted to envelop your arms around him like before, wanting to take back the words you said to him the last time you saw each other. But the other was hurting too much, always feeling you were second place in his life.

You walked ever so carefully to him, placing one hand on top of his.

"I know you're trying to make amends Damon, but I don't think we can be what we were, just not yet."

He nodded his head, understanding that the way you two left things had left scars that hadn't healed. But you held his hand firmer to break out from his thoughts.

"But I do want you here, in our baby's life. She has the right to know who her father is, if you're ready."

A flicker of hope shone through his eyes and gave you a smile that he hadn't seen in a while.

"I'll be here any time you need me."

Since then, Damon has chosen to live near a motel. He wanted to give you space but still guaranteed to be by your side through the end of your pregnancy. He helped you buy some clothes for the baby as well as help you with the nursery. It was your favorite day to be with him as you started to fool around with the paint, purposely painting each other's clothes.

You haven't laughed in a while, and it felt like your heart was being repaired, piece by piece. You offered Damon to stay the night and he looked a bit reluctant, but he knew you wouldn't take no for an answer. So, he slept on the couch that night.

Since your pregnancy, you haven't had a peaceful sleep. So when you heard noises from the living room, you had to investigate.

Your feet slowly padded your hallway and you walked through the dark room.

"Damon?"

You saw him tossing and turning, murmuring. Slowly, you go up to him, softly shaking his shoulder.

"Damon, wake up."

Suddenly, he abruptly wakes up with a cold sweat. He looks at you with wild eyes, like the ones you saw when he was in the interrogation room.

You reach out to touch his face, but he flinches away, his jaw clenched. But you stood your ground.

"Look at me. Please." You begged, whispering.

He hesitantly looks up, fearful. His body screamed at him to run away, to not hurt you, but his heart stood its place, knowing he would never do something like that.

All you could see was his eyes softening, then became glossy as a tear fell.

He began to sob, and he landed his face in your chest. It caught you by surprise, but you held him closely to you, trying to calm him down by combing his hair that was growing and kissed his forehead. You two both stayed in that position until you brought him to your room where you both sat at the end of your bed as you listened to him attentively.

He talked about saving his friends lives in the line of duty, yet feeling like a failure to himself and his country.

"I couldn't recognize myself, I thought I became this monster. All my life, I was too weak to do anything. I almost didn't qualify to serve due to my health records. That's why I started taking enhancements."

Your mouth rounded in a small 'o' as you never new that part of his life before the army.

You intertwine your hands in his and look at his eyes that faced so many wars.

"You fought so much in your life, Damon. I know it seems like you given up but you didn't. You saved so many lives. I know I can't give you much-"

Damon whips his head towards you, hurt.

"What do you mean? You given me the world." His hand softly goes to your growing belly and looks at you with those loving eyes that you once remembered.

You held on to each other, feeling his heart beat slow down as you two laid back in your mattress where you two fell asleep.

When you woke up, you see him snuggled by your belly as you comb his hair that grew much longer through your fingers. He smiles then flutters his eyes open, adoring you again with his gaze.

Both of you know the risks of dating each other again, as no one wanted to break the other's heart.

But you had to at least try. Cause Damon would be damned if he repeated the same mistakes again.

He could promise you that, but for the time being... He was happy where he was now, entangled in bed with the woman who had his whole heart and more.