#sobbing. crying. gonna go look in the cupboards again

[vulpinesaint]

kicking and SCREAMING I WANT REAL FOOD SO BAD

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Five

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.3K

oops so she's not on hold

Series Masterlist

Lando had a rotten time in Spain. It was odd seeing Carlos again, but downright horrible to watch his sister hiding herself in her room. Lando had tried to get her to come out, but it was damn near impossible.

"I'm bringing a date to the wedding," Lando told Oscar as they sat together. It was his final day in Spain and, as much as he didn't want to leave, he couldn't wait to get back to England.

Oscar frowned at him. "Really? I didn't know you were seeing someone." Truthfully, Oscar didn't know if Lando would allow himself to date. Especially if it was outside of the mafia families. If he was seeing someone in their circle, Oscar would definitely know about it. "Who is she?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he raised his drink to his lips. It was his way of saying 'it doesn't matter' and 'you'll meet her soon enough'.

There was a, admittedly rather large, part of Lando that was dreading bringing Y/N to the wedding. He was thrusting her into a world of guns, drugs, and violence. Not that he was going to tell her. No, he was going to stay by her side for the entire night.

One of Sainz's men stood in the doorway and Lando stood up. He reached for Oscar and they clasped their hands together as a way of saying goodbye. "Look after her," he said as he walked away.

"Look after yourself," Oscar called after him.

Lando tried to sleep on his flight back to the United Kingdom. Leaving Spain, leaving his little sister there, didn't feel right. He felt physically sick as they he flew, sick enough to throw up in the bathroom of his jet. The staff onboard stared at him, but the moment he gave them his glare, they looked away, either terrified or embarrassed.

There was a driver waiting for him when he landed. "Don't take me to the house," he said as they pulled away. He gave the driver a different address and he was only too happy to take Lando there.

On the drive Lando still felt like he was going to throw up, but he could hold it down this time. He wouldn't show weakness, not again after the plane.

When they arrived at the apartment building, Lando climbed out of the car. He hadn't given her any warning that he was coming; the thought had slipped his mind. But he entered her building and went up to her floor.

"Coming!" He heard as he knocked on the door. Just a few seconds later it was open and she was staring at him. "Lando!" She called as a smile crossed her face. "I didn't know you were back."

He said nothing. He just strode forward and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. The apartment door shut and he let out a sob. "Fuck," he said through his sobs. "I'm sorry. I..."

But he couldn't help but cry. She ran her hands through his curls, trying to comfort him in whatever way she could. "I've got you," she whispered.

After a good minute or two, Lando pulled away from her. He wiped the non-existent tears from beneath his eyes. "I'm gonna have to do something really macho to win you over again, aren't I?" He said and let out a weak laugh.

Shaking her head, Y/N led him over to her sofa. "You don't need to win me over again, Lando," she said sincerely as she sat him down. "I'm gonna get you something to drink."

"Whisky, if you have it."

But she stopped on her way into the kitchen and turned back towards him. "I was thinking more along the lines of tea." Lando pulled a face at that suggestion. "Okay, I think I have hot chocolate somewhere."

He smiled and slowly nodded his head.

Humming to herself, Y/N made her way into the kitchen. She hug through her cupboards for some hot chocolate powder. "Do you mind if I take a shower?" He asked as she began boiling the kettle.

"Of course," she shouted back and poured the boiling water in a mug. "I'm sure I have some spare sweatpants around here somewhere." She stirred the powered into the water and walked the mug over to Lando.

He took it gratefully and held the warm ceramic against his chest. "Sorry for dropping in like this," he said as he sipped at the hot drink.

She slapped his leg as she sat beside him. "Stop apologising to me," she insisted as she leant against him. "You've got no reason to."

Lando got halfway through his hot chocolate before he headed off to the shower. While he worked out how to use it, she searched through her drawers, looking for her too big sweats. When she found them she left them outside of the bathroom and headed to the kitchen to make him something to eat.

She didn't know what was going on with Lando, but she wanted to help him in whatever way she could. She hummed along to the music playing along as she cooked a meal for the both of them.

When Lando came out of the bathroom, dressed in her pair of oversized, grey sweats, his phone was pressed against his ear. He spoke in a hushed tone, in a conversation that was obviously private. She turned her music volume down as he walked into the room, but she didn't stop her humming. Whatever he was saying, it was none of her business.

He finished the phone call and slipped the phone into the pockets of his sweatpants. He came to rested his body against the counter top beside her. "Are you okay with chicken and pasta?" She asked as she showed him the pan.

Lando gave her a soft, sleepy smile. "That's perfect," He said, his head falling to the side.

Although Y/N had sweatpants for him, she didn't have a shirt or anything. He still wore his button up shirt, but it was half open. Not that Y/N was complaining. She almost spilt the chicken and pasta as she tried to plate it up, too distracted by him.

"What do you say we watch something while we eat?" She asked him as she offered him the plate and a fork.

"You treat me so well," Lando replied and started towards the couch.

They watched a movie while they ate, just like she had said. When they were done, she placed the plates on the coffee table and leaned against him. "Feeling better now?" She asked as she looked up at him.

Lando let his arm settled around her, resting against her chest (above the breast, he certainly didn't want to scare her off). "I feel like a pathetic child," he mumbled, shaking his head. His curls bounced around and she couldn't stop herself from pushing them back.

"Life sucks, Lan. Don't feel bad for crying," she mumbled, her head against his shoulder.

He went to kiss the top of her head, but he stopped himself. They weren't there yet. "Let me take you on a date," he said. "A proper date. Like, out to dinner in a fancy restaurant or something."

She couldn't stop the frown from coming onto her face. "What? Why?" She didn't mean for it to be rude, but why ruin the good thing they've got going? But, the more she thought about it, the more Lando might have been the perfect person to go on a date with.

Well, they got on like a house on fire. But what did she really know about him? Almost nothing. Then again, what was a first date for if not getting to know something. "Yeah, okay," she said. "Let's do it."

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[lvlyynim]

bestfriend!mark who’d remember your usual drink and pastry order so he’d have an excuse to crash your study session in the library.

bestfriend!mark who always has a spare charger in his bag whenever your phone is running low.

bestfriend!mark who would lull you to sleep with a few plucks from his guitar and soft singing.

bestfriend!mark who keeps small gifts you gave him and stores them in a cupboard box, calling it his memories box. (from the first movie ticket you two went together to the polariods of you and him)

bestfriend!mark who has a crush on you ever since 9th grade, you skipped school to take care of him when he was sick.

“don’t you have that very important history test? the one you spent weeks studying for”

“oh shush, you’re more important than that stupid test. now shut it and drink this”

bestfriend!mark who has a drawer full of his shit in your closet cause he’s constantly over at your place.

bestfriend!mark who would stay up all night stargazing with you from the small balcony.

bestfriend!mark who nearly burned down your kitchen, trying to make a sunny side up.

“you are never ever entering my kitchen again. at this point mark, you’re setting yourself up everytime you grab a pan”

“at least this one is better than the rest-”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT”

bestfriend!mark who always know when something is wrong and shows up with your favourite snacks and his hoodie.

bestfriend!mark who sents you sunset pics daily saying it reminds him of you. he’s also your personal weather forecaster.

bestfriend!mark who orders fast food and eats them with you in his car, in an empty parking lot.

bestfriend!mark who holds your hand in crowded places out of fear of losing you in a sea of people. (also your hands will stay interlocked for the whole day)

bestfriend!mark who’s your biggest supporter and constantly encourages to face your fears, reminding it’ll always work out in the end.

bestfriend!mark who dyed his hair blue after losing his bet with haechan (and it was probably the best thing to happen cause it suits him, to the point where you can’t stop staring at him)

“you look great with blue hair”

“hm? dang really?”

“mhm probably my favourite colour out of the all other ones”

“damn you liked it that much huh? is that why you keep staring at me?”

“shut up and finish your food”

bestfriend!mark who rubs his hand up and down your back whenever you two hug.

bestfriend!mark who stays sober if you two go out for drinks or during parties so he could take care of you in case you do too many shots.

bonus nsfw cuts

bestfriend!mark who jerks off to a photo of you almost every night before being consumed by guilt and shame. (and does it again the next night)

bestfriend!mark who shamelessly checks out anytime you wear something a tad bit revealing. (his favourite : you in skirts)

bestfriend!mark who finally had the chance to pour his feelings out to you and fuck you senseless afterwards.

“you have no fucking clue how long i’ve wanted this” you let a broken sob, feeling as if his cock is gonna split you in half with how deep he is. how big he is.

mark just chuckled at your disheveled state, legs pinned to your body, eyes rolled back in euphoria, body littered with his mouthwork.

“taking me so good baby, so fucking good” he’s losing it by the second. with how you’re clenching around him, he’s not gonna last long. your high pitched moans is a telltale sign you’re in the same boat as well.

mark was a gone man when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed him deeper into your dripping cunt. leaning a whine of your name, he came hard. you took advantage and pushed him onto his back, straddling him.

wind knocked out of mark’s lungs seeing you bouncing on his cock, desperate for your own release. mark was choking on his sobs, his cock overstimulated to the point where he could cry any moment now.

“ba-baby please ngh please come please”

“fuck mark, i-i’m cumming”

it didn’t take long for the knot in your stomach to snap, orgasm washing over your body with a long whine of mark’s name.

[ughgoaway]

I would kinda prefer it to be a seperate thing but I will love whatever you choose. Thank uou sm for answering🫶

I am quite good with hiding my problems and most of people don't notice anything 😭 Sorry I don't want to make anyone bad with this love yall 🫶

of course lovely!! I wrote it as a separate thing, and don't even worry about making people feel bad - I'm pretty sure everyone relates massively to what you said.

I hope what I wrote okay and that it's not too short <333

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

you come home from work fucking exhausted, this week had been the longest of your life. every day was a new drama, and seemingly only you could fix each one.

and of course you did, putting out fires with a fake smile the while time. it got especially bad when you found out you have to do a presentation to the board next week, on top of all of your other tasks.

so you were stressed as fuck. And you knew next week would somehow be worse.

but you were determined to keep work and home separate, not bog matty down with your petty issues.

so when you come home to him making dinner in the kitchen, you really try and play it casual. you come up behind matty and give him a hug, burrowing your nose into his neck and breathing him in.

he jumps from the contact, but soon settles into your arms, stirring the pan and smiling as he speaks to you, "Hi sweet girl, missed you today. how was your day?" He drops the spoon and spins around in your arms, pulling you in close and happily humming at your presence.

"was alright," you lie, "happy to be home now though." You smile and pull back, looking up at matty, trying to feign happiness.

he seeks right through you. He was always able to read you like a book. which might seem endearing, and most days, it was. But times like this, it became an annoying skill.

"You sure you're okay, baby?" he says softly, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek gently.

you take a shaky breath before reassuring him again, "yeah. I'm fine. " Your fake smile and shaky breathing are giving you away.

and you know if matty asks one more time, you'll crumble.

he doesn't even have to speak, kust giving you a disbelieving look, and you break. eyes welling up and your lip shaking.

"Oh angel, c'mere," matty drags your body into his and hugs you tightly, noticing your body shuddering as you sob into his shoulder. he feels his shirt dampen and can't help but squeeze you tighter. pressing kisses to your head one after the other, desperate for you to stop crying.

eventually, the dark grey patch on his shirt stops growing, and your breathing evens out. you come out of his shoulder with a sniffle, staring at him with a dejected look on your face.

and matty can tell exactly what you're gonna say next, "ah ah ah. don't just say you're fine and wave me off. I'm here for you, my love. Let me look after you, hmm?"

you initially go to fight it, ready to insist that you're fine and just being dramatic. but this week had broken you down so much that you immediately nod, tearing up again just at his kind words.

"Oh angel, I know you're feeling really shit when you don't even try to fight me. how about I run you a bath? I'll light some candles and use that lavender bath salt you love. " he strokes your hair as he speaks. wiping tears with his other hand, swiping his thumb along your rosy red cheek.

"Yeah. that sounds really nice, thank you, baby. " You smile and hug matty again. Just his presence is already making you feel better.

"Of course darling, after you've relaxed for a bit, I'll make us a cup of tea, and we can figure out whatever is bothering you." matty feels you nodding against him and softly smiles to himself.

he grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom, letting you sit on top of the toilet seat and watch him run your bath.

he adds bubble bath and froths it up before adding the bath salt, the scent of lavender permeating the air around you.

he grabs the candles from the cupboard next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he comes back up. you giggle lightly at the peck, and matty can't hide the proud smirk that comes across his face. making you happy will always make him giddy, looking after you was something he could never tire of.

he lights the candles around the bath, and you have to convince him not to run to the shop to get rose petals.

"matty, don't worry about that! it's already perfect, thank you." You stand and kiss him, wrapping your hands around his neck and tugging him closer. your lips move together slowly. The kiss isn't full of lust or being driven by something deepee. it's simply full of love, two pairs of lips working against each other seamlessly.

with a soft, sleepy smile, you pull away, feeling slightly dazed from the kiss you had just shared. Teasingly, you begin pushing matty out the door, "Okay, time for you to get out, I'll be out in an hour to watch bake off together."

matty smiles as he walks backwards, tracing your face with his eyes. he holds his hands up in faux surrender, "alright, alright. let me know if you need anything, okay?" You nod and shut the door behind him, giving him a little wave as you do.

just as you turn back around, you hear the door click back open, you spin around to see mattys head poking around the corner. before you know it, he's pressing a quick peck to your lips and sneaking back out, "Bye, sweetheart!" You hear from the other side of the door, and you don't even bother to fight the Cheshire cat style smile that comes across your face.

an hour later, and with pruney fingers, you come out of the bathroom, dressed in fluffy pyjama bottoms and one of Matty's t-shirts that you had stolen been gifted.

"There she is! Nice bath, baby?" matty asks from the sofa, two steaming cups of tea in front of him. he lifts the blanket across his legs up and nods you into his side, and you immediately burrow in. he throws the blanket over the two of you and holds you close, rubbing up and down your arm soothingly.

It's about an hour later when matty asks you what's been happening. You've both had your teas and been very judgemental of everyone's baking skills on bake off, so there were no more distractions

"s'nothing, really. just stupid work. my manager has been off all week, and I've been doing everything whilst she's been gone. and now I've been told on Monday at 9 am that I'm making a presentation to the board of directors. and I just can't do it all, matty. I'm so fucking tired-" matty shushes you and wipes the tears you hadn't even noticed were falling.

"shh, it's okay, sweetheart. We'll figure it out, okay?" You nod sadly and sniffle. Matty gives you a sad smile before going into protective boyfriend mode.

"Right. Next week your manager should be back, and if she's not you're going to go to Mark and demand some help" you let out a whine of protest and matty lightly laughs before adding, "I know you hate Mark, but you need the help baby." You sigh, and matty knows he's got you. You really do need to speak to Mark.

"and you don't need to worry about the presentation. we have all weekend to perfect it and practice it as much as we can. I cancelled on Ross earlier anyway, so we can avoid his barbecue on Saturday and get this done"

your face drops as guilt overtakes you, "oh no. I'm so sorry! please don't cancel Ross, you can go! I'll be fine here, I just need to make a PowerPoint and some cards -"

matty shakes his head and cuts you off, "Nope. I'm staying to help, no matter what you say. Ross will have a thousand more barbecues that we can go to. Let's just focus on you and make you feel better this weekend, okay?"

you nod slowly, feeling unbelievably lucky that you've ended up with the man in front of you.

matty insists on finishing the abandoned dinner from earlier for the two of you, ordering you back to the sofa when you try to help. he does the dishes too, insisting you "just sit there and look pretty sweetheart."

you have to convince him not to physically carry you to bed. but once you're settled in bed, matty pulls you close, tucking your head into his chest.

he kisses your head one last time, smiling as he hears your breathing even out and knows you're asleep.

[bythenineshards]

Suffering Fools (Chapter Two)

Summary: Impatient Buggy returns to Doc Syre.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, Syre fixes a broken arm. It's brief, but I thought it should be mentioned.

A/N: Sorry it took so long! This chapter isn't exactly NSFW, but the fic as a whole is, so I'm gonna label it as such. Enjoy my cringe!

Buggy needed to choose his fights more carefully. He had to find the balance of getting to see the doctor and not being able to enjoy the interaction. Could he have waited a few days to get the stitches out? Sure. But why would he? His potentially broken ribs were the penalty for his hubris as the jailers dragged him between them. It was bad enough that he had to hide his abilities or risk worse conditions, but on top of that, she wasn’t even alone today.

The guards brought him in much the same as they had two or so days before. Syre glanced back from the table she was working at. Buggy got to see her do a double take before looking to the guards and asking, “Again?”

“Hasn’t learned his lesson yet?” Another woman’s voice asked, a touch amused. The woman, Domino, was leaning on the cupboards and watching as Syre tended to another inmate. Her arms were crossed, but her general demeanor was more relaxed than Buggy was used to seeing one from the jailers. Despite the dark sunglasses and blonde hair covering her eyes, Buggy knew she was looking at him.

“I’ll get you fixed up after I’m done with him,” Syre assured Buggy, her voice more professional than their previous interaction would suggest.

“No problem, Dollf-” He caught himself and coughed, his ribs protesting this heavily, “Doc.”

Domino slid her gaze from Buggy to Syre, and the pink haired doctor gave a shrug, the pair deciding it was nothing, “So what happened next?”

Syre brightened, “Right! So Marie and I, livid that they wouldn’t let us go to the party, convinced Avery to sneak in and get us some of the desserts.”

“Why weren’t you allowed to go?” Domino asked with something almost adjacent to a smile.

“I was twelve, Marie nine and Avery six,” Syre explained, then paused, “Could you help me with this?”

Domino uncrossed her arms and allowed Syre to instruct her as she prepared to reset the broken arm of an inmate Buggy didn’t recognize. She had the jailer hold a strip of thick leather in his mouth. Syre was unwavering in her movements. Snapping the bone back into place with precision and stern confidence. The man screamed out in agony and continued to cry as she put his arm in a cast. Even the two men that had brought Buggy in looked away uncomfortably. Once it was all done, she washed his face of sweat. “There we are. You were very brave.”

“Thank you…” The inmate sobbed, clearly a mess from the pain but trying in vain to appear more manly.

She gave him a warm smile as the two guards went to take the inmate back to whatever level he was housed on. She told them with a steely voice how to prevent the arm from getting worse. There was a thinness to her voice though, the cruelty was wearing on her and she knew her words were falling on deaf ears.

Buggy noticed immediately that Syre wasn’t referring to the inmate by the foreign nicknames. He settled into the cold metallic table, smug as can be. The thought that Domino’s presence was the more likely reason didn't cross his mind. He was special to the Doctor.

“So what next?” The blonde jailer hadn’t left yet. Buggy had hoped she would accompany the inmate that was just removed but no such luck. She came to sit at the foot of the table Buggy was strapped to. He wasn’t exactly complaining but he’d hoped for some alone time with the Doc.

“We were much too young to attend such a gathering. Even one thrown by my own family.” Syre explained, as she fetched Buggy’s file and realized the guards hadn’t told her anything. She hastily walked to the door and called down the hall, “WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?”

There was a distant, muffled response that didn’t seem to please her. She began a slew of words in that oddly lyrical language Buggy assumed was her native tongue.

Domino smiled just a little with Syre’s frustration, “Idiots. The lot of them.”

Syre sighed, “It’s like they all share a single brain cell.”

Domino nodded in agreement, “So what happened?”

“Oh they said he got into another fight and wanted me to look him over. Something about his chest looking bad.” Syre explained, clearly annoyed by their lack of details, “I hope his ribs are not broken…”

She lifted the hem of his shirt to start her examination, concern soaking into her eyes before they widened at the sight of the blue hair that sat low on his stomach. It was almost enough for her to completely forget about the bruising.

“I meant the party.”

“Oh!” Syre laughed brightly. Dropping the shirt and continuing her story, as she took his vitals and jotted them down, “Marie and I convinced Avery to sneak down into the party. She was the smallest, therefore not easily spotted and if she was caught, she could burst into tears. She was quite talented with that. Boo Hoo! Papa, I had a nightmare! You understand.”

“Cute.”

“We thought so too,” Syre smiled, looking proud of her past self, “We told her to go down and get some of the cakes for us to share.”

“She got caught and couldn’t cry?” Domino predicted.

“No, worse.” Syre said, getting her stethoscope and warming it with her hands. It was then that Buggy noticed she wasn’t wearing the gloves from before. One was in his pocket at present. It smelled of her perfume and may have had a new smearing of red paint.

“We weren’t specific enough with her and she, somehow, got a three tier cake out of the party without being caught.”

“What?! How?”

Syre gestured vaguely, “Not a clue! We meant for her to get maybe a plate with some of the cookies and little cakes. Something easy to hide but nooooo. Avery said go big because she was already at home.”

Syre sat on the edge of the table, half considering cutting away his entire shirt or asking Domino to help her remove it. She felt something caress her thigh. It was just the slightest of touches, hardly a caress but it caused her to stammer, “W-we panicked of course. We tossed around the idea of sneaking it back into the party but it was lucky she wasn’t caught taking it. We didn’t want to risk it. So we did what any young girls would do.”

“Tried to eat it all yourselves?”

Syre gave a grave nod. She was trying hard to disregard the suggestive caresses to her thigh.

Domino chuckled, “How did that go?”

“We still feel nauseous at the smell of coconut cake,” Syre shuddered.

Domino’s chuckling ended in a sigh, “I should probably get back.” She didn’t sound like she wanted to. It seemed like everyone grew tired of the cold, militaristic atmosphere at Impel Down and enjoyed just feeling like people in a more normal workplace. Syre already missed being able to talk with her sisters and mother. Talking with Domino had sort of filled that void but it was different. She’d tried to do the same with Sadi but it hadn’t gone as well. The woman frightened her, if she was being honest.

Buggy stifled the urge to nod vigorously. He was growing impatient. Touching Syre's leg and getting her flustered was fun but the man wanted to flirt and make her blush.

“Actually,” Syre began, “Could you help me again?”

NO! Buggy thought and it reached his face before he shoved it back down.

Domino nodded, “Sure. What do you need?”

“I want to get a good look at his chest and back, and check his lungs but in order to do that, I need to unstrap him.” Syre explained while focusing on keeping herself calm. She was a professional. This patient was no different than her last. Plenty of patients, especially here, made eyes at her. They made comments about her appearance. She was being ridiculous. Their last interaction had been a momentary lapse in judgment. Her life had been fairly sheltered before. It was new and exciting to have a pirate get so desperate for her touch. It wouldn’t happen again.

Domino had caught Syre’s meaning and readied her weapon. Syre looked down at Buggy, warning him, “I don’t want to have to take care of a gunshot wound with nothing for the pain.”

Buggy’s curiosity was piqued by how she kept her voice so level and firm when her eyes were brimming with compassion. He nodded his own understanding, getting shot didn’t sound like fun to him either.

He could see Syre inwardly debating how best to unstrap him from the table. She shrugged and started with his head then worked her way down. He grunted as he slowly got in a sitting position.

“Could you please remove your shirt?” Syre asked, mentally patting herself on the back. So far, so good. Her face wasn’t warm. She was cool as a cucumber. Buggy peeled off his shirt and Syre swallowed hard, hoping Domino was too focused on Buggy to notice. Her eyes ran over his bare torso and she felt her cucumber coolness melting away. She didn’t know why it hadn’t quite sunk in that he would be sculpted like this. He was a pirate captain. That meant he did work on a ship and likely had been doing so since he was a boy. Why wouldn’t he be covered in hardened muscle? Maybe it was the fact that he looked like a clown that threw her off of the trail. Speaking of trails… the blue hair was on full display and Syre had to shake her head to dislodge the urge to gawk. Cool as a cucumber.

To begin her examination, she took in the quantity of the bruises around his stomach and chest. Circling the table to see how bad they were on his back. There were a few that gave her pause and she had to stop herself from appearing too soft about it. Once she was at his front again, she stepped closer. Not quite between his legs, though the thought did cross her mind. It didn’t seem like a bright idea even with a gun trained on him. She finally took the stethoscope and pressed it to his heart. She listened for a long moment before nodding in approval. Moving it over she said, “Alright, Mon-,” She caught herself but didn’t cover it well, “Um… could you give me a deep breath?”

Buggy did as she asked. He glanced over at her briefly as he did so. She was stone faced and listening intently. “Did that hurt?”

“Not much.”

“Another, slower this time.”

As before he did as she requested, twice more after. She moved the stethoscope to his back, placing a hand on his shoulder and asking him for more deep breathing. Each time she inquired about pain but his answers were negative except the final breath that came with a tight grimace. Her eyes went soft with that and searched his face. The look he gave her in return was overwhelmingly filled with hunger. It made her mouth go dry with its promise of all it wanted to do with her. Completely unabashed, his eyes told her that he didn’t care that he was at gunpoint. His eyes wanted her to know that if Domino wasn’t there, he’d mark her body with red paint. It made her legs feel like jelly.

She avoided looking at Domino as she removed the stethoscope, “Your lungs seem fine. Why don’t you lie down?’

With Domino’s help, he was strapped back down. Syre had to stifle a squeak as he took the chance while laying down to run the backs of his fingers down her thigh. Syre stopped Domino from binding his chest as she was going to check his ribs. With Buggy secured, Domino clicked her tongue.

“Now I should really get back…” Domino sighed, “See you tonight?”

Syre looked up from Buggy’s exposed chest. She hoped Domino thought she was merely doing an examination rather than the blatant ogling she had been indulging in. “Yes. I will be there.”

“Great.”

The shutting of the door echoed in Syre’s mind. She was alone with Buggy now. He was resting his eyes but his painted lips were smirking. There was a long moment for the both of them where Syre searched for something to say but words were frightfully lost in her dry mouth. One of Buggy’s eyes cracked open as Syre was wringing her hands.

“So no coconut cake?” He asked, making her jump a little.

Once she realized what he’d said, she laughed, “No, I can’t stand the stuff.”

“What do you like?”

Syre cocked a brow, “For dessert or…?”

He shrugged as best as he could, “Surprise me.”

Syre thought for a moment while starting to gently poke and prod at his ribs. “I really like Lemon

Meringue.”

“Never heard of it.” He said with a grunt as one of the bruises disagreed with Syre’s prodding.

“Sorry, Mon Chér,” She cooed. “It’s a pie that has lemon curd topped with whipped egg whites and sugar. It was the only thing my mother insisted on making herself. She said the cook never got it quite right.”

Buggy’s brows shot up, “Cook? Sounds like you were a silver spoon kinda girl.”

“Eh,” Syre replied, “What about you? What do you like?”

“Besides Doctors with cotton candy hair?”

Syre’s resolve crumbled. Her face bent to the temptation and she blushed full and hot to the tips of her ears. “I meant to eat, silly.”

“I said what I said, Sweetcheeks.” He grinned at her, large, toothy and deeply immodest.

The frightening yet tantalizing look made her push a little too hard. The seduction cracked as he yowled in pain.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, withdrawing her hands like he was on fire. "You need to stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what, Sweetness?" He feigned innocence but his eyes still held the dark, sensual playfulness.

She flicked his nose, "Like that! It's full of sin and very distracting."

"Oh? Is that so?" He asked, cocking his head to the side, blinking his long eyelashes at her.

She looked at him, thoroughly devoid of humor yet still blushing mildly, "I have scalpels."

“Is that a promise, Sweets? Slice me up and serve me like your lemon pie?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively but the effect was more comical than carnal.

Syre let herself laugh, which seemed to please him. Once the laughs had run out, she pulled up a chair and sat as face to face with him as she could. She didn’t loom over him. Smoothing her jacket, the last of her amusement lingered in her eyes. “Mon Chér… I need to check your ribs and I can’t do that when you’re being a scoundrel, and making my head fuzzy.”

Her face was so filled with concern that it struck Buggy. She actually cared. Not because it was her job, not because she would get anything for it, not even deep down. The sincere air to her face was an open book.

“Fine. But only until you’re done with my ribs. I can’t make any promises after that.”

Her face lit up, “Thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t tell anyone I follow orders from you, Toots.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Syre stood, gingerly checking each rib then the cartilage closer to the center. Her touch was delicate, like he was a priceless work of art and she was appraising him. Warm brown eyes like cognac flitted between his chest and face. Searching for the pain he might conceal behind bravado. Her bare fingers caused goosebumps to raise and more than once she had to stop her eyes from traveling further down. She wondered if her touch was giving him a similar reaction as their previous encounter. Would she do much the same if it was? Would she push further?

“You didn’t answer my question from a bit ago,” Syre said, softly. Her voice was distant, not uninterested but focused on what she was doing. The need to make polite small talk warring with her methods as a physician. It lended more credence to Buggy’s theory that she came from a more well to do upbringing. What he didn’t consider was she was trying desperately to cool her fantasies.

“About what? I was distracted by a pretty doctor.”

A smile flashed across her face, “What do you like? Foodwise.”

“Nothing as fancy as lemon meringue. Hotdogs, I love hotdogs.”

“I’ve never had one,” Syre admitted.

“Of course you didn’t, your cook had better things to make,” He teased.

Syre rolled her eyes. “Out of curiosity, what things would you do if I said the examination is over?”

She’d lost the war with modesty in her head.

A devilish smirk spread across his face, equal parts dark and jovial, “You like when I’m… what was the word you used? Sinful?”

She held her face as neutral as she could muster. This was the third time she was going over his ribs. He couldn’t tell if she was just being extra sure or enjoyed touching his chest with her bare hands. It could be both. He wouldn’t complain about both.

“I have a favor to repay, Doll. I gave you options and I know which one I’d take to repay it.” He said, licking his lips.

“If your ribs were broken or even cracked, I wouldn’t risk making them worse,” Syre straightened and placed her hands on her hips.

“My face ain’t my ribs.” He smirked, “You’re avoiding what I asked. You like this, don’t you?”

Syre went to answer but the words caught in her throat. She looked down at him. Her eyes only briefly lingering on his lips before holding his gaze. She replied honestly. "I shouldn't but..."

“You do.” He finished for her and she nodded making her curls bounce.

“I ain’t complaining,” he said in an odd effort to comfort her that was still drenched in smugness.

Syre collapsed back in the chair and bit her lip. Buggy watched her do it and saw the conundrum in her mind. She was a Marine and a Doctor in a prison full of some of the worst scum imaginable. Yet she was enjoying attention from said scum. She was indulging in something wrong in its own right. Did this make her a bad doctor? Most likely.

“No no Sweets, you really ought to let me do that biting for you…” Buggy purred, pulling her away from her semi-spiral.

She blinked at him and a single laugh burst out before she could stop it, “I thought you were going to stop being rakish until the exam was over?”

“I did my best.” He tried to shrug but was still woefully tied down.

Running a hand through her hair, Syre took a deep breath. “Alright… so… the good news, I don’t think any of your ribs are broken. Nor do I think any of them are cracked. You got lucky.”

“Lucky would be you on top of me,” Buggy retorted.

Syre tried to give him an unamused look but he only winked at her. She stood, folding his shirt neatly and preparing to go for the door.

Buggy cleared his throat to stop her, “Before you call the guards to take me back to hell, you hurt me Sweetcheeks. Flicking my nose and all. I think by your own policy, you owe me a kiss.”

Syre lifted a brow with a smirk of her own, “You’re quite right.”

Without hesitation, Syre leaned down and kissed his nose.

Buggy laid there in shock. It happened so fast he had little time to process it, much less the ease in which she had done it. Like she’d been thinking about doing so for days. He saw it happen, felt the tenderness then saw her pleased smile. As he stared, she strode to the door and called for the guards.

“No more fights, Mon Chér,” She commanded as the guards filed in to take him back to level one. His shirt was handed to the guard and in turn thrown in Buggy’s face. She held his gaze as he scrambled to pull it on, soft blush warming her cheeks as she got a good last look at his exposed chest and with just the barest bite to her lower lip.

Buggy was about to get into another fight.

[pigeonwhumps]

🪡 That’s gonna need stitches for Phoenix?

Phoenix slips into their room as soon as they get home and pulls the first aid kit out from under their bed.

They don't think anyone noticed them come in, but it's unlikely they'll care anyway. So long as their chores are done and dinner cooked it doesn't matter.

Which is good, because there's a gash running down their side, jagged and wide and gushing blood. It'd be more of a worry without their healing factor, but even so, they can't do their chores as they are. They skip over the paracetamol and ibuprofen (they won't do much good for a wound this size) and pick up a needle and thread. By the time they've threaded the needle it's slick with blood, but at least it's threaded. Their clothes and the floor are covered in blood already, and they wonder, vaguely, whether they'll ever get it out completely.

They work carefully, squeezing Mr Frosty in one hand as they pierce the skin. It's a painful pinch, and it doesn't last long but then they have to do it again, and again, and again, the pain making them want to scream as they drive the thread through. They bite their lip on a sob, vision swimming with tears. They don't often feel lonely, not really, in fact they'd rather not get Abbie and her friends' attention most of the time, but right now... right now, it's painful. They want their sister to help bandage them, their nemesis to make them smile, just someone to tell them it's going to be alright.

But they don't have that, it's been years since they had that, and they need to grow up and stop complaining about it. They can cope. They always do.

They stitch the last of the wound shut and pull the thread tight, tying it off. It hurts, oh it hurts so badly, they want to curl around it and block out the world. But that's not possible. They unfold a bandage and wrap the wound carefully, trying to avoid bending too much. It's not properly clean but they find they're having trouble caring. It's not like it's going to last long anyway.

As if to confirm their thoughts about not being able to stay here, there's a hammering on the door, before it bursts open to reveal Abbie looking impatient. Phoenix's heart pounds. So someone did notice them. They should've expected it, she's too observant for anything else.

"What on earth are you doing in here? There's lots to do, hurry up and stop idling around."

Phoenix shivers but gestures to themself anyway, to their rucked up t-shirt and bloody hands, and the mess of thread and bandages. They're grateful they at least got the wound bandaged first – if Abbie decides to 'test' it, it won't hurt quite so much.

"Unless you, um, you want blood everywhere, I need to, um, finish this first, sir," they say quietly, heart pounding. They're talking back. They're talking back. That's against the rules. And they really, desperately don't want to go in the cupboard again, or lose their powers when they hurt so much already, but it will be their own fault if that happens.

Their throat is tight, filling with unshed tears. They wish Abbie wasn't here so they could let them loose.

"Please, sir," they whisper, begging, pleading. They need more time. They need to finish this bandaging, and change, and clean up a bit so they look halfway respectable. It's not fair, sending them to work so soon after almost dying again. It's not fair.

It is. It is fair. It's not like they can die, it's fine. They're fine. There's no need for special treatment.

But god, it hurts. They'd break down and cry if it wasn't for the fact that they know what Abbie and her friends' reaction will be. Not pretty, that's for sure.

"Please."

Abbie raises an eyebrow. "You remembered your manners this time, that's good. Five minutes. And I expect the room spotless, and you to pay for that time."

"Yes, sir."

That's okay, it's about what they'd expected. It's fine.

Fine.

Abbie nods sharply and slams the door behind her on her way out.

Phoenix pulls Mr Frosty to them. For a moment, they don't care about the damage to the stitches caused by them bending over the stuffed toy. They just need the comfort. That's more important than anything right now.

And then they get to work. They feel like they might faint, or vomit, or both, but they brush that aside. They can't afford to consider that. Not now.

Later, maybe. Later. But certainly not now.

Edit: forgot the taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @whumpinggrounds @painful-pooch

[boffeeceans]

Anyone want me to write some mungrove as gallavich- just kidding I already did it.

CW: mention of dead character (Neil), implied past child abuse (you can never be save enough), mention of murder

"I could've killed him a thousand times over and he dies of a fucking heart attack."

Eddie pauses what he's doing to look over at Billy. He's been listening to Billy cry and complain for hours now, nodding and humming along to whatever he says. He would do more, really, but he's just not that great at dealing with people crying. But Billy's been okay with how Eddie has been dealing with it so far, and Eddie is happy to do it. Even though he doesn't think Neil deserves this amount of grief, the guy was a total asshole and honestly deserved to die. Billy agrees, but his words throw Eddie off just a bit.

"Wait, are you crying because you're pissed of or because you're sad?"

"I don't know, okay? I don't know!"

Eddie sighs and takes a seat on the bed next to Billy, placing a hand on his knee. "He was a dick, Billy, the worst of the worst."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"I know you do, I know you know better than anyone, so aren't you at least a little glad that he's gone?" Eddie tilts his head to meet Billy's eyes. "You're free, Billy, there's no one watching your every move anymore."

Billy blinks a few times, more tears falling from his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. "Except for you."

"Hey, it's not my fault we somehow have the same friends." Eddie moves a little closer, wipes some of the tears off Billy's cheeks. "Can't help that you're so pretty, either, can't take my eyes off you."

Billy smiles and pulls Eddie in for a kiss. However, the sweet moment and Billy's good mood is short-lived, for his face crumbles and the sobbing returns.

"There, there." Eddie gives Billy a few soft taps on his shoulder. "How about I get us something to drink, huh? Some hot cocoa? Yeah, hot cocoa will make you feel better."

After receiving a short nod from Billy, Eddie walks out of his room and into the kitchen.

"He still going at it?" Wayne asks while Eddie gets the mugs out of the cupboard. Eddie let's the question linger, let's Wayne hear that Billy's crying can easily be heard through the thin walls before giving Wayne a pointed look.

"Right."

He sighs again and places the mugs on the counter. "I love him, I really do, but if this goes on for much longer, I'm gonna start crying."

The sound of a breathy laugh has Eddie tensing. He whips his head towards the door where his dad is leaning against the frame.

"You don't get to laugh. This is your fault."

"Hey, I was just trying to help."

"Help? Really? And you couldn't have done it in a different way, one that doesn't involve murder?"

His dad shrugs and his nonchalance just aggravates Eddie more.

"Y'know, I should just tell him you did it. He'll kill you, and then I don't have to deal with you anymore."

The words hang in the air for a moment, everyone in the room knowing Billy is more than capable of murder, and then, nearly unintelligible, "Please don't."

[gayspock]

OK

now im like im gonna shut up for real i fucking promise but also just feel like such fucking shit all the fucking time and its everything but it's mostly loneliness isn't it i feel like I'm going fucking nuts like seriously fucking nuts I keep thinking about what it would look like to look back on my existence like a TV show and think about how I've never been anything more than a sad fucking loser who just ends up crying in their room alone every night because they felt left out again and again and again and again and it never ends and it never changes and there's nothing you can do to make it stop there's just something wrong with you or there's not enough of you to like and i don't think I'm ever going to cope with it even after accepting it I just can't fucking do it and nobody's ever gonna care or know like for real because no matter what people say I just feel like i don't exist 8 feel like I'm constantly going crazy I wish it mattered like properly for a fucking second and it wasn't some fucking clinical reassurance but someone actively choosing to be near me or remembering I exist I don't understand it and 8 never have and I don't think I'll ever make it long enough to ever feel it I can't even relate to half the fucking bullshit out there ei don't know what to do I've never managed it I keep thinking when I kill myself what will happen how nobody will even realise how nobody will even want to deal with the body I wonder what would end up happening I keep trying to think of ways I could do it and make sure there's never anything to recover how to slowly dismantle all the pieces because I don't 2wnt to think about being left somewhere forever having some stranger fucking dig my hole or scatter my ashes i just feel so fucking sick of everything no i haven't i haven't managed to talk to people in years and years I don't remember any more einkeep thinking about the tens of thousands of hours of spiralling and nobody ever fucking giving a damn enough to take me seriously as a person 8 feel like I've never been a person to anyone I don't know i can't explain it people keep telling me I'm not trying enough I try too hard I don't care I can't fucking care any more and I'm not strong enough to fucking do it Its been my whole life 8 mean it it's just been like this I can't remember when it wasn't like this I used to fucking sob in cupboards wishing someone would just not fucking hate me please I'm so fucking or just stay please please like me or if I got older maybe if I went to new places maybe I could try I could try and it just kept. Getting worse. The more and more it happened the worse it got i didn't even do anything in uni nobody knew who I was and I think ive always just been a joke and 8 don't know what's wrong with me every time I get my hopes up I feel like I've just ended up more and more hurt and more and more upset and I just don't want to fucking try I don't want to keep doing it I don't want to be near anyone I feel so much fucking worse just living in the cracks of everyone else's fucking existence it feels like I'm being mocked and it's not fucking worth it nothing could retroactively make it fucking worth it ii don't fucking care but what's going to happen other than I'm going to go fucking sob in the dark for another few months until 8 finally kill myself hm okay!

[ever-yours118]

wiping their tears when they cry  for the buckley siblings if that's okay?

“She’s almost two,” Maddie says, as if Buck hasn’t been over for the past hour helping to bake Jee-Yun’s triple-chocolate brownie cake. But the tremble in her voice as the cheerful sound of whisking ceases—that’s what makes Buck come over from the cupboards, settling on one of the kitchen island chairs to peer up at his sister. Maddie’s still holding the whisk, staring almost angrily at the fledgling batter. “Buck—she’s almost two.”

“Three days,” Buck says with a tentative smile. The whisk is dripping dark batter onto the countertop, running in thin rivulets down Maddie’s wrist, and he carefully takes it, setting it in the bowl. “She’s getting real big.”

Maddie nods, and when her gaze finally drops on Buck, her eyes are liquid and watering.

“Oh, Maddie,” he murmurs, almost involuntarily. She melts into tears slowly before him, sinking down onto the chair beside Buck and letting him stroke her back, whisper soft platitudes into her hair.

And it’s always strange, because he’s only seen her like this a few times. They say that watching a mother cry is the most confusing thing for a child, but Buck saw his mother crying all the time—angry, despairing, depressed. She made excuses for her red eyes on what he now knows was Daniel’s birthday—your father and I had a little squabble, or I pricked my thumb on the rosebush, now run along, Evan. But it had never given Buck this feeling, this deep-welling sense of wrongness at seeing his older sister break to pieces.

So he does all the can, rubbing her back in slow circles as she turns to sob into his chest. And slowly, slowly, the shaking of her back subsides as she copies Buck’s deep, instructive breaths.

“It’s just—“ she hiccups softly, head still buried in his polo. “It’s just that the first birthday—it’s everything. Even with everything with Daniel, Mom and Dad took the time for photos of your first birthday party. And I—“

She chokes off, and Buck’s heart cracks a little, right there in his chest.

“Mads,” he says soothingly, helplessly. “Maddie…”

“I’m never gonna get that back,” she says, almost resigned. One hand unhooks from Buck’s polo to swipe at her eyes, but—

“Hey, no,” he says, catching her wrist. “Look,” and he laughs a little—kindly, soft. “You’ve still got batter all over the place.”

Sure enough, it’s smeared on the counter and on Buck’s shirt and all over Maddie’s nice blouse. Maddie freezes for a second before she smiles, watery but true, and it turns into so bright a laugh that Buck can’t help but to grin.

“Sorry about your polo,” she says finally, still a little teary as she wipes her hands on her already-ruined shirt.

“Nothing a wash won’t fix,” he hums. And slowly, deliberately, he reaches out. Maddie sits still quietly as she lets him swipe at the corner of one eye, brushing away the wetness there.

“Thanks,” she says, smiling tentatively.

“‘Course.” He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, smoothing the soft locks soothingly. “Mads— I can tell you everything I’ve said before, but you know yourself how important it was that you got away.” He swallows, continues. “And I know you’ll never forgive yourself for it. But Chim has, and Jee will—and god-damn it if this isn’t going to be the best birthday cake a two-year old’s ever fucking had.”

Maddie laughs again, surprised, then tugs him into a soft hug. “You better give me all of Bobby’s tips.”

“That would be telling—“

“Then do it yourself, but—“ and she grins, wet but glad. “You’re right. This is gonna be the— the most kick-ass cake we’ve ever made.”

“That’s what I like to hear!”

(send in a prompt for a ship/genpair!)

[gravegroves]

Billy survives. And life gets better. Life gets better in ways Billy couldn't ever have imagined before, but as is usually the way for people like him of course it's all too good to be true.

The blackouts aren't bad in the beginning. He's losing time, sure, but only minutes at the most and there's a huge part of him that refuses to believe it's anything to be worried about. He doesn't even tell Steve it's happening. Why would he? Nothing's wrong. Then one day Steve finds him collapsed in the kitchen with blood coming out of his ears and shit gets serious real fucking quick.

There are scans and tests and they find the source pretty damn quickly all things considered. Dr Owens is kind enough to explain it to him in terms that make sense.

The mindflayer.

It isn't gone. It's hibernating. Probably waiting for the gate to open again so it can continue where it left off. They'd missed it the first time around because it hadn't been bigger than the tip of a pencil. Dr Owens points at the ghostly lines that make up Billy's brain, right at an innocent little dot hiding as deeply into Billy's head as it could possibly get and tells him it's now the size of a pea.

Even if the gate stayed closed forever (and that's a guarantee no one can make) the problem now is that it's growing.

Billy's infected with the beast like a returning cancer and they treat it like it is. Chemotherapy and radiation. They pump him full of chemicals as often as they dare and send him home in the passenger seat of Steve's car and there hasn't been a single trip where Steve didn't have to pull over so Billy could throw open the door and empty his stomach into the ditch.

And Billy knows what happens to people going through chemo. Who doesn't? But he's still horrified when he takes a shower one day and his hand comes away from his head with a huge clump of hair.

He chokes. Loud enough for Steve to knock on the bathroom door and ask if Billy's alright.

But Billy isn't listening. He's staring at the clump of hair clutched in his fist and somehow it's the last straw in a long line of fucked up shit Billy's had to go through recently. But he isn't gonna cling to his hair like some kind of middleaged, comb-over loser.

No fucking way.

Billy flicks the hair off his hand and turns off the water. He steps up to the sink, throws open the cupboard under it and yanks out the electric shaver. Stabs the plug angrily into the socket and turns it on, drowning out Steve's pleas for Billy to let him in.

He stares at himself in the mirror, at the strands of loose hair clinging wetly to his skin halfway down his chest and the thinning patch near his temple that seems so fucking obvious now...

It'll grow back. Billy knows it will. If he can just survive the goddamn chemo, it'll grow back.

He tries willing himself to lift his hand, to run the shaver over his head and just get it over with quick, like pulling off a bandaid, but there seems to be a disconnect between his mind and his hand. And Billy almost flies head first into a panic attack, momentarily conviced that the mindflayer is keeping his limbs locked up, but it's his own fear freezing him in place just as effectively. No matter how much he tells himself it's just hair, he can't make himself do it.

Steve's knocking takes on a frantic cadence until it stops altogether. Running footsteps pound outside the door until Steve comes smashing through it, eyes wild and worried.

"Billy?"

He stops. Stares. Looks at the trail of hair no doubt littered down Billy's back as it is his front. Sees the shaver and the look in Billy's eyes and something seems to click.

He approaches slowly. Gently tugs the shaver out of Billy's grip and turns it off before pulling Billy into his arms.

And Billy breathes shakily against Steve's neck, refuses to cry, but can't find it in himself not to care about this...

"Want me to help?" Steve offers after a while and Billy nods. Thinks the only possible way this is getting done is if someone else takes the wheel.

And Billy doesn't cry.

He's close when Steve runs the shaver over his neck for the last time and Billy feels the last lock brush off his shoulder and fall to the floor. He stares at the water-stained wall in front of him, too scared to glance at himself in the mirror.

The buzzing of the shaver continues and Billy frowns, looks up and turns around and that's when he finally chokes on tears. Reaches out to stop the shaver from going over Steve's head again, but it's already too late. And Billy cries ugly. Empties out all his frustrations and fears into huge sobs as he crumples in on himself.

The buzzing of the shaver stops and cool hands run over the fuzz on his head and his sensitive scalp. Breath brushes over his neck, followed by the softest pressure of lips.

Steve whispers into his skin.

"Now we match."

Billy looks down at the floor at their mixed strands of hair, reaches up blindly to cup the buzz on Steve's neck.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." Steve runs his hands down Billy's back in a calming motion. "Man, it's going to suck when I have to shave off my eyebrows."

Billy laughs through his tears.

.

.

.

So @trans-siberian-marching-band asked for Steve to maybe shave Billy's hair and I made it way more depressing than I intended, I'm so sorry. At least it ended kind of happily.

[polar-equinoxx]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40306722

Whoops my hand slipped~

Iceman and Maverick are on a mission of somesorts together, and they get put in a room which has, you guessed it, only one bed. And Maverick has a nightmare.

hurt/comfort, fluff

1076 words (🎉👏)

Here you all go for those of you who want it on tumblr aswell <3

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Only one bed☁️

Maverick pov

I walk into the small apartment, looking around. There’s a small bathroom, a little kitchen area, and a sofa in front of a tv. Not bad so far. I check the first of the two doors left, it’s a locked storage cupboard. Kinda weird but not too unexpected, it is the cheapest place they could find for us.

Iceman looks around the corner of the last door at me.

“What is it?” I ask.

“The bedroom,” he says.

“No way-“ I say sarcastically, going over to him.

He rolls his eyes and steps out of the way of the doorway.

It’s not big but not too cramped, with a window on the left wall as I walk in. And one bed.

“There’s… only one bed?” I say.

Iceman sighs behind me. “Really?”

I look at him out of the corner of my eye.

“Oh well, I’m taking the right side,” he says, taking a few steps into the room and going round to the right side of the bed.

“What? You’re just accepting it?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? I mean, you can go ask for another room if sharing a bed with the Iceman doesn’t suit you,” He smirks at me, sitting on the bed.

“No, no it’s fine-“ I state, my cheeks getting suddenly hot. “I don’t care, whatever—”

Ice laughs.

» ✧ «

Goose. Dead. Because of me. Because I went into that jetstream. Because I couldn’t wait. And suddenly we’re spinning down and down, eject eject, I’m yelling. The canopy roof comes off, I’m out, I open the parachute, falling again, slowly this time. I can see Goose’s parachute open. The jet hits the water three hundred metres away from where I do. Then Goose hits the water, but he isn’t moving, he isn’t moving. I call his name, get over to him, hold him up. The blood, his blood, all over my hands. No. No. He’s gone. I’m too late I couldn’t save him he’s gone he’s gone he’s gon—

I wrench myself into a sitting position, hardly breathing, shaking, tears in my eyes. No. No. Why now why now why here-

I look to my right, Iceman’s still asleep next to me, facing the other way.

My head falls into my hands, I cover my nose and mouth, tears leaking through my fingers, not daring to make any noise.

Just don’t wake Ice up. That would be embarrassing.

I splutter, breathing through my mouth, sucking air in, holding it, and pushing it out, over and over again.

Just stay silent.

Please. Be quiet.

I bite my lip, hard, holding my breath again, feeling sick to the core.

A hand on my shoulder.

No. Oh god. I woke him up. I woke him up I woke him up I woke him u—

“Pete…”

I let go of the breath, sniffing, still with my head in my hands, tears still dripping down my cheeks. He’s never gonna let this go; the one night the Iceman had to share a bed with Maverick Mitchell is when he woke up in the middle of the night crying like a kid. Jesus. He’s gonna remind me of this for the rest of my life-

But then he gets closer to me, wrapping his arms around me.

What?

“Shhh, it was just a dream…” He whispers.

What is he doing? Why is he holding me? Is this what he does when he embarrasses someone the next day? What is going on?

“Pete, it’s okay..” he says softly, pressing a kiss on the top of my head.

And suddenly, I don’t care. I don’t care about what’ll happen tomorrow, I don’t care about the state I’m in.

I just know that Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky is holding me in his arms, saying that it’ll be okay, right now.

I give in, pressing my face into his neck, gripping the back of his t-shirt with my hands in shaky fists, shuddering with each breath and each sob that escapes me.

“Shhh… I’m here,” He murmurs into my hair, rocking us slightly from side to side.

I try and catch my breath, strangely comforted by him.

The longer he holds me against him, the more I can feel my breathing evening out, and the less constant the tears are.

“…It’s alright Mav,” Ice says slowly.

Maybe.. just maybe he won’t use this against me. Maybe we can keep this between us for once.

I sniff, swallowing and moving my head slightly, and I press the heel of my hand to my eyes, stemming the slowing tears further. I don’t dare look up to meet his eyes though.

I inhale, my breath getting stuck in my throat. “I’m- I’m sorry..” My voice is gravelly and hoarse from the crying.

“You don’t have to be sorry,”

“But I woke you up-”

“Okay.. I went to sleep early today, I don’t mind being woken up at half three,” He says, slowly running his hand up my arm.

“Can.. can we keep this between us, please?” I ask quietly, finally looking at him. Please say yes.

“Why would we not?” Ice replies, he doesn’t look like he would use this against me, ever.

“I… don’t know,”

His hand reaches my face, and he thumbs away the remains of the tears.

I bite the inside of my cheeks, averting my eyes, trying so hard to not cry again, just because of the soft touch.

“Maverick.. what was the dream about?”

Now I am going to start crying again.

“..Goose,” I exhale, swallowing.

He doesn’t reply.

“.. how it’s my fault that he’s dead,” I sniff again. “It’s not the first time I’ve had it, either,”

“It isn’t your fault, Mav,”

“It is,” I say, “He’s gone because I flew into that jetstream, because I couldn’t wait for five more seconds or go up or down a little bit!” Tears start again in my eyes, and I lower my head, angry at myself.

“Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t blame yourself for what isn’t your fault and never will be,” Iceman says, the concern still in his voice.

I exhale, wiping my nose. “I can’t not,”

“You will be able to..”

I look at him, wanting to believe him, wanting to forgive myself.

Without saying another word, he slowly lowers himself back down on the bed, and I join him.

And I only move closer to him when he puts his arms back around me and pulls me in again.

[nextdoorharry]

imaaaaagine a world like that..can you? part 2

-

in which y/n sees a text, harry lies to her, and wants her back.

a/n: ahhhh!!! i feel like the first part of this story was a fan favorite out of all my other pieces! so thank you thank you thank you!!! hope you enjoy!

here’s the link to part 1 if you haven’t read it already!

-

you were always a light sleeper. you would wake up to a pillow falling on the floor, slight wind coming from outside, or even a phone that’s on silent vibrate. that’s the case when you woke up to a text vibration sound coming from a phone. tired eyes, you wake from your current position and see a love island episode playing. on auto-play of course because you already remember watching the previous episode a few days prior. you guess you and harry fell asleep during the new one you two were watching. with tired eyes, you squint to see harry sleeping peacefully. you miss this, you thought. sitting there in silence and taking in how harry used to sleep, slight snores, mouth a little open. except he’d be right next to you and not across.

your thoughts interrupted you hear the text buzz again. you grab what you assume to be your phone, since you and harry both have simple, plain black cases.

wrong.

it wasn’t your phone. it was harry’s.

you realized this when you read the text displayed on the lock screen, from olivia wilde.

I miss you, and our casual hookups. Can’t stop thinking about it. it read. you wanted to breakdown and cry right there.

you felt all kinds of emotions; confused, upset, angry, and jealous. why wouldn’t harry tell me this part? no i understand that, but why would he make it seem like he did not enjoy it at all? clearly he’s comfortable doing this stunt if he was hooking up with her. all these thoughts running through your head as you quietly get up, turn off the tv, and go upstairs to your bedroom. leaving harry to sleep on the couch.

you feel tears rolling down your face as you get into bed, quiet sobs erupting from your chest. you loved him. you still love him. you were glad when harry said that it’s all pr. you were glad when he made it seem like its all fake. but now, it was all a lie. sure it was a pr stunt, but harry and olivia seemed to take advantage of that and use that to get intimate. he clearly wasn’t as annoyed as he made to seem about the situation since he got to hookup with her. you may be jealous, but you don’t care that he didn’t mention something private like that to you, because he didn’t need to, it’s his business. but what stings is that he made it seem like it was clear he wasn’t actually into olivia.

-

you wake up to hear the coffee machine on, and the sound of something being cut against the cutting board. harry’s still here. you felt weird facing him now that you know he lied to you. even though you two aren’t in a relationship anymore, he has never lied to you. ever. nonetheless, you get up and proceed with your morning routine, then head downstairs.

“mornin,’ sleep well?” harry smiles as he sees you enter the kitchen. his eyebrows furrow a bit as you come closer to his vision. he couldn’t help but notice your eyes look a bit puffier than usual than how it normally looks when you’ve just woken up. he knows its either allergies or that you cried.

you reply with a slight “mhm” and reach for the cupboard to get glasses.

the thought of you crying makes him worried. it always did. you rarely cried during your relationship with him. only when it was a close individual’s funeral, or tears of laughter. or the day you two argued and he broke it off with you.

that’s why he hates seeing you in your state now. because if you were crying, all he could picture is the day you two broke up.

“y/n, y’good? your eyes look puffier than usual, love.” harry asks cautiously, trying to read your face, which refuses to make eye contact with him.

you were stood by the fridge, filling the glasses of water for the two of you when you replied, “m’good, just allergies. cat’s shedding season.” you say with a straight face, looking towards the glasses you’re filling. not wanting to look harry in the eyes. because all you can think about is how he was intimate with olivia, and how he lied. your stomach already turns at the thought.

“take the allergy meds that doctor prescribed you a while ago. remember it works wonders.” harry smiles, setting yours and his plate down on the table as you come and set the glasses down.

harry makes it so damn hard to hate him sometimes. the fact that he remembers the little things has you in awe. but no, not right now y/n.

“mhm, i’ll call in to get those refilled.” you lie through your teeth, acting as if the allergies were the reason for your current state, “thanks for breakfast by the way, y’didn’t have to. my fault for waking up later than usual.” you say sitting down.

harry sitting across from you, senses a different feel to how you were yesterday. you seem a bit off now, and you were never like this in the mornings. he supposes you did have a late night and filled with allergies bothering you, so you’re probably not in the best mood.

he shrugs it off, “no need, i overstayed my visit on accident, and its the least i can do after you helped me with my little uh, situation,” harry giggles, sticking a strawberry in his mouth.

you give him a glare as he looks down. his situation he says. you wanted to laugh in his face.

it’s a silent breakfast from there. harry in his own thoughts thinking about last night. oh, how much he missed you. how much he wanted to cuddle with you. be sleeping in bed with you. waking up to your face. soft kisses throughout. he misses it so much. he senses and hopes you miss him too. he had a good feeling last night. and that’s when he decides he needs to say something. if he doesn’t speak now, he never will. now’s the perfect time. after his tour and new album, he’ll be taking a break. a break from everything. a break to spend time with family, friends, live privately, and hopefully settle down with you. now’s the perfect time to reconcile with you and put the offer out on the table.

“..so,” harry begins. you look up and see harry putting his utensils down, wiping his mouth with a napkin, getting ready to speak. “after the tour ends, i’ll be releasing my album, do some promo for that, and then i’ll be on a hiatus..for however long i’d want it to be..”

you can’t just have all feelings for him disappear in less than 24 hours. so when he said that, you can’t lie to yourself and not feel some happiness. yet, he still better not say what you think he’s gonna say. you’re still mad at him y/n. don’t do this to yourself.

“so what are you saying..” you hum.

“god y/n, you know what i’m about to say.” harry purses his lips and looks you in the eye, hands reaching out for yours, “i’m ready to settle down with you, if you’d have me back that is.” he says with a little smile and gleaming eyes.

the days prior from yesterday of you finding out, you would’ve have said yes. you would have breathed out a finally, and had a sense of relief.

but now it’s going to be a different outcome. he took advantage of your kindness and you giving him advice. he took advantage of your time. maybe dramatic, but that’s how you see it.

you’re mad. that slight happiness you got when he said he was taking a break is gone.

“s’not even like we have to be boyfriend and girlfriend for another period of time! we can go straight to fiancés! we already have trust in each other, i mean we only broke up because of my work. nothing else was to be fixed in the relationship! i’ll put a ring on it right now if i have’ta!”

harry rambling, saying some bullshit about trust, causes you to interrupt him, “harry-“ he still rambles but now about having kids. “stop.” you say, voice grew a little louder and more stern.

harry pauses, wide-eyed. sure he didn’t know how you were even feeling about this, but he was sure the love you two have was still there.

“trust?” you laugh in disbelief. “first off, you’re acting like we took a break. a halt in our relationship until you were ready to settle down. you should know that’s not the case. i’ve been patient throughout our relationship far too long for me to be waiting around on your terms.”

“y/n i-“ he interrupts.

“no, i’m talking. this whole ‘trust’ thing is gone. i’m sorry but last night i woke up in the living room to a text notification. i assumed it was my phone, and since we have the same phone cases, i happened to pick yours up and saw a text from who’s supposed to be your ‘pr stunt’? she’s wanting to hook up with you? again? jesus harry, you should know why i’m mad and upset that you’re saying you want me now. even before you said all this, right after seeing that text, i was mad because you lied to me. look, you of course didn’t have to share that you were intimate with her; but don’t make it seem as if you’re not into her at all. and making it seem like it’s the poor girl’s fault. acting as if she’s a nuisance wanting to be intimate or affectionate, cause clearly you wanted her as well.” you end your speech with a sigh, shaking your head. you take a sip of water, mouth dry from the little speech you said. you wait for him to come up with whatever amusing thing he can say to make it not sound as bad as it is.

harry’s startled. doesn’t know what to say. he saw the text when he woke up, but he told her that it wasn’t for him anymore, that he just wanted you, and it was nice in the moment, but they are after all, strictly just business buddies with a platonic friendship. she understood, she seemed a bit mad, but harry didn’t care. he just wanted to make sure there’s nothing in his way to get you back, and that those hookups he had with her were in the past. he’s going to try to fix this.

you speak up again in a calmer tone, “you didn’t care about my feelings,”

his face turns red. nerves rattling him.

“y/n i feel awful about it, know what i mean i-“

you cut him off. “you made me look really dumb, harry.” you say while lightly nodding your head in order to get him to understand.

he begins to speak again. “look i’ll be honest. i should’ve mentioned it yesterday, and m’sorry for that. i will admit, there was a physical attraction with her at the beginning of everything, and since we were broken up-“

you correct him, “are, broken up.”

his heart hurts when you say that, he nods, “yes, are broken up, i didn’t want to live with any regrets. i felt it was better to just experiment and to take advantage of being in the stunt, seeing if there’s a spark,” he takes a breath. “i would’ve regretted if i didn’t and it was better to do it at the time because i didn’t know if you would even take me back once i came home,” he keeps fidgeting with his feet under the table, nervous on what your response will be; but hopefully understanding. because you always were.

wrong. boy was he wrong.

“so..you still did it with the intention of coming back home, hoping to get back with me?” you caught him. “harry..what are you even saying?”

he gulped. fuck. this looks bad. he didn’t think things through, he thought. “look, you didn’t feel anything rushing back last night? everything that we had, and built together?” face even more red.

“yeah and then today..you slapped me across the face with a lie and embarrassed me.” you spat. “what’s wrong with you? you don’t have any respect for me.” shaking your head in disappointment. “and its such a let down considering if you hadn’t hooked up with her, i would’ve hopped right into your arms right when you said you wanted to settle.”

he regrets everything and anything right when you said those words. why did he hook up with her? god did he really think y/n was going to just be waiting around? of course he thought so. he always did. and that’s why you two were broken up.

he sighed, shaking his head as well, as he’s disappointed in himself. he was about to speak, but you beat him to it. “i’m not mad that you hooked up with her, i’m mad that you don’t have any respect for me. i’m mad about your intentions behind it. and the fact that you lied to me making it seem like olivia is the bad guy saying, ‘s’like she enjoys it!’” you repeat his words he said to last night, when he made it seem like he wasn’t into her. “and just the fact that i gave you meaningful advice because i care about you, once again, you embarrassed me. i feel dumb, harry.”

he feels dumb too.

you still didn’t let him speak, instead, you let him leave.

“something needs to change, harry. until then, please leave.” you say, getting up from the table walking hurriedly upstairs, eyes beginning to water, but you feeling satisfied that you listened to your own advice you gave to harry: stand your ground.

-

a/n: man really thought y/n would be waiting around for her. smh.

hope you guys enjoyed this part!! still deciding on whether to make a part 3 or not! don’t really know which way i want to go about it.

[justbreakonme]

(A and B are both training to become soldiers/spies/guards/astronauts/etc. in a boarding school situation)

A woke up to a pitiful gasp outside her dorm door, followed by a small knock. She was out of bed in an instant, flinging the door open just to see B crumpled outside it, sobbing.

A and B were regular rivals, most commonly seen at each other’s throats. Everything was a competition here, but B was her primary competitor.

“Please..” he wiped his eyes, trying to gather a little bit of the dignity that was all but lost, “I don’t know what to do..”

B didn’t know anyone else here as well. He wasn’t close to anyone, not even that close to A, but he knew that she fought fair, and didn’t hit any harder than she needed to. He couldn’t say that for anyone else.

“B, what the hell, what’s going on?” her voice was hushed, the slightest touch of anger overwhelmed by concern, “Get in here before someone sees you, come on.”

She helped him up and inside, shutting and locking the door behind them.

He took a deep breath, trying to explain himself without losing it. “I- I can’t sleep, I haven’t slept all week, I just can’t, and I don’t know what to do, please, I don’t know who else to go to…”

His voice broke, and he was crying again.

She’d never seen him cry…

“What do you mean you can’t sleep?”

“W-whenever I try to close my eyes, my heart beats faster and I start to panic, I don’t know what’s going on…”

The desperation in his eyes and his voice, the way he was still clinging to her hand, the fact that he had come to her of all people…

This wasn’t a trick.

“Okay, alright, let’s get you calmed down…” she coaxes, letting her voice soften into the honey tones she usually reserved for cooing at the local cats, “You want to sleep in here for tonight?”

He just shrugged, and she could feel him still shaking. “Does being alone make it harder to sleep?”

He nodded.

“Okay, well you’re welcome to stay… here, sit down for a second. Let me get you some pain medicine for the headache that either is coming or already started.”

He’d stopped crying and sat quietly and obediently at the end of her bed, seeming to try to regain his composure while she rooted around in her bathroom cupboard.

“Here, these should help,” she folded the pills into his shaking hand and handed him a water bottle as well, leaning against her bed post as she watched him take them, “So, what’s freaking you out?”

“Exams, I guess… I can’t fail this…” he looks up, locking eyes with her for the first time, “I can’t.”

“What would happen if you did?”

“My dad would kill me. And I’d let him.”

“Why?”

“Cause everyone on my dads side has made it through, and I’d rather be dead than deal with how he’d treat me otherwise. I have to make it through, but- I don’t know if I will…”

She sighed and plopped down next to him, looking over.

“You’re gonna make it. Assuming you can get some sleep and stay focused, you’re gonna make it. Your scores are awesome, and the only person you can’t beat is me.” she jokes, elbowing him gently, and he can’t help a weak laugh.

“Maybe…”

“But if you don’t get some sleep that might make it more difficult… So come on. Shimmy up.”

They both shift farther up the bed, till they could tuck themselves in, and he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Bothering you.”

“Well that never stopped you before,” she teases, trying to keep thing light, “But seriously. We may beat the shit out of each other out there, but in the end, we’re all on the same team.”

He’d never thought of it that way before.

All this training wasn’t just to impress his dad, or wasn’t supposed to be. It was to protect people, A included. They were, in reality, supposed to be willing to die for each other…

He nodded before he could start crying again, and stared up at the ceiling trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

He didn’t know when he had started to drift off, just knew that when he woke up, A was pressed up against his back, holding him like a teddy bear.

He glanced at the clock, praying to whatever god was out there that it wasn’t time to get up yet, and let out a sigh of relief when the clock only registered 2:06 am.

B sunk back into the bed with another soft sigh, and did his best to avoid jostling A. And, he slept again, dreamlessly and peacefully, till the alarm sounded in the morning.

[y-so-hungry]

Midnight Food For Thought

Beelzebub x MC

Ok I wasn't sure whether to write it as "MC did this, they did that" or "you did this, you did that" or even "I did this, I did that" for this fic, so I went with the first option, lemme know if you guys prefer it a different style (I don't mind any way) and I'll keep that in mind for if/when I write another one of these!

This wasn’t the first time MC had gone downstairs for a midnight snack and found Beel already in the kitchen, but this was the first time they’d seen him in demon form at this hour. They supposed that’s why they lingered just by the steps, watching rather than going in. Not that he was scary in this form, but they worried he was upset, and would rather not be bothered. Beel didn’t have his head in the fridge like usual, oddly enough he seemed to be making something. Usually he was too hungry and tired at night to cook, so it was rather odd to see him kneading dough.

What was odder than that was it seemed he didn’t actually have any other ingredients out, just flour and a cup of water next to him. MC watched for a couple more minutes as he continued making more and more of this dough, adding flour and water and flour and water over and over again until the ball of dough was as wide as a dinner plate. That seems to be when he ran out of flour.

He sighed an oddly miserable sigh, and MC watched in confusion as he took a handful of dough and started… eating it. And it was only when he sat down a second later that they actually caught sight of his face.

There were tears running down his cheeks.

“Beel?” they said, finally calling attention to themself. Beel snapped up, fear flashing through his violet eyes before he saw them. After that, all that showed on his face was a mixture of guilt and embarrassment, his face turning as red as his hair and eyes filling with even more tears.

“Beel?” MC repeated, making their way into the kitchen. “What’s wrong, why are you crying? And why are you just eating dough? I’m sure there’s something a lot better than that to eat.”

Beel looked down and took another bite of his pitiful midnight snack.

“There wasn’t,” he muttered.

“What? What do you mean?”

“There wasn’t anything else to eat,” he said, louder this time. “It was all gone, there was only a little bit of flour left. I-I didn’t know what else to do. I’m s-so hungry, I-I didn’t think I’d make it to Hell’s Kitchen before I passed out o-or something so I-I just--” he cut off with a tiny sob, raising a wrist to scrub at his eye.

“Oh Beel, I’m so sorry,” MC said, wrapping their arms around his shoulders and pulling his head to rest against them. His horns didn’t feel exactly comfortable against their ribcage, but they didn’t really care at the moment. “I could’ve sworn there was plenty of food earlier today--jeez I don’t know what happened to it all.” They gazed around at the now completely bare cupboards, feeling almost angry at them for being empty despite the fact it’s not actually their fault.

“There was food! I saw it! We must’ve eaten it all at dinner, I didn’t even go in the kitchen to make sure I’d have something for tonight,” Beel said. His stomach snarled right then, and he quickly shoved another handful of dough in his mouth, grimacing at the taste.

“There should be more, Lucifer always takes into account how much you need to eat--wait, who went shopping this week?” MC asked.

“Mammon,” Beel growled. “He probably spent half the money on some sale and didn’t get enough food.”

“Goddammit Mammon,” MC said, pinching their brow and squeezing their eyes shut. I’ll have to beat him up later, they thought. Snag his credit card, buy poor Beel all the cheeseburgers he wants. They opened their eyes to see the hungry demon was already halfway through his tiny meal, more tears coursing down his face as he watched his food disappear.

“Hey,” they said softly, cupping his cheek and tilting his head up so he could meet their eyes. “We’re gonna go get you something to eat, okay? Something real, not just sticky dough. We’re gonna go to Hell’s Kitchen and you’ll end up so full your shirt doesn’t fit right, how does that sound?”

The rumble that sounded from Beel’s stomach at the suggestion seemed to be rather painful; he wrapped both his arms tightly around his belly, curling in on himself with gritted teeth and a small whimper.

“Oh Beel,” MC murmured, running a hand through his flaming hair. They gently pulled his arms until he stood up, still clutching his grumbling belly. They quickly grabbed his glob of dough still on the table and handed it to him, hoping it would be enough to tide him over until they both got to Hell’s Kitchen.

~~~

MC called the restaurant on the way, letting them know the situation, so despite the fact that it was a rather busy night at Hell’s Kitchen, they were seated quickly, and in a quiet, secluded area of the restaurant. Beel asked for his usual, a large plate of burgers, and said he’d give MC a few. He always seemed to forget that MC didn’t need ten whole burgers to feel full, but they appreciated the thought nonetheless.

Beel’s dough was long gone now, and he kept pressing his fingers deep into his stomach, it’s rumbles only growing louder with time. Besides his belly though, Beel himself was rather quiet, staring down at the empty table with his eyes unfocused and far away.

“You okay, Beel?” MC asked. They felt a little stupid as soon as they said it; it’s quite clear that he’s not okay. But he blinked and glanced at them, seeming to understand what they meant.

“I just… really hate when this happens,” he muttered. “I get all wound up and upset, and now everyone gets to see the Avatar of Gluttony being an idiot and crying because he didn’t have enough of his stupid snacks.”

His face was screwed up now, anger and disgust warping his features into an expression MC wasn’t sure they’d ever seen on him before. They’d never seen him so repulsed, not even when he found out about Lucifer trapping Belphie in the attic.

“Beel, you shouldn’t say such mean things about yourself. You’re not being an idiot, and your snacks aren’t stupid, you need them, and that’s okay. You shouldn’t beat yourself up about this, it’s not your fault,” MC said, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently. But his words were still bitter when he answered.

“I bet none of my brothers ever cry about their sins. Why can’t I just be like that? Why do I have to burst into tears if I miss breakfast in the morning, or if someone eats the rest of something I saved for later? Why can’t I just calm down?” Beel muttered, wrapping his arms more protectively over his belly. His shoulders and legs were tensed up so hard MC wondered if it hurt, he looked like he was trying to curl in on himself. Even his wings were wrapped around him, all in an attempt to protect his middle. His muscles bunched even tighter as his stomach gave another pitiful grumble, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

MC sighed and reached over, pulling at one of his arms curled around him until he moved it away with a questioning glance at them. They moved their own hand in to replace his, pressing their palm to his belly. They could feel it rumbling continuously against their hand, and they began rubbing gentle circles into his middle, loosening the knots of pain as best they could. Beel almost instantly relaxed, melting against the cushions of the booth. The grumblings of his belly didn’t stop, but they didn’t seem to be as painful as before.

“Your brothers do cry, you know,” MC said. “Sometimes about their sins, sometimes about other things, just like you.” Beel looked up at them, his eyebrows raised.

“Really?” he said. MC nodded, shifting closer to massage deeper into his middle. He relaxed further, leaning his head back with a small sigh.

“They do,” they said. “Yours I think is the worst of them to be honest. It causes you physical pain, and affects you more often and worse I think than the others. But that doesn’t mean their sins don’t hurt them.”

Beel scoffed, looking away from MC and down at the empty table again.

“What could Mammon possibly be crying about?” Beel snarled. “Getting his credit card taken away?”

“Well… yeah,” MC said. “Mammon can’t control his want for things. It’s a bit like if someone took food away from you. Not quite the same since that would actually hurt you, but it still upsets him. And I mean… He doesn’t actually like how greedy he is. He knows it can hurt people, he just can’t really stop. And that makes him sad.”

“…He actually feels bad about that stuff? I always thought he didn’t care,” Beel said.

“He does,” MC said. “It’s the same with your other brothers. Lucifer is so prideful that when he messes up even a little it can send him spiralling. Levi, his envy can get so intense he feels like he’s all alone in the universe. He gets so jealous of other people that it can blind him to what he has. Satan gets so angry sometimes that he starts crying out of rage. Asmo cries because he feels so much love for people that it hurts to see them in pain. That and of course he gets angry at himself for being so vain. And I’m sure you’ve seen how upset Belphie can get when he hasn’t slept. I've seen him go to bed with tears running down his face after a whole day with no rest.”

“I have too,” Beel said solemnly. “I used to hug him when he couldn’t sleep after Lilith died. Even when I got hungry in the middle of the night, I’d hold him until he fell asleep. …Though I think sometimes he’d pretend to be asleep when he heard my stomach, that way I would go downstairs to get something. He always worried that I didn’t eat enough.”

His stomach growled pointedly right then, loud enough that Beel actually looked down at his belly in surprise before wincing in pain. Those chefs are really taking their sweet time getting his food here.

“Well he had reason to,” MC said, rubbing deep, soothing circles into the place where it seemed to hurt most. “Basically my point is that you’re not the only one who struggles with their sin. I think you struggle the most, but you’re not an idiot for crying over something that hurts.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I never knew my brothers got upset about that kinda stuff,” Beel said, and he shifted closer to them, laying his cheek on their head for a moment and careful to avoid hitting them with his horns. “Thanks for coming with me, MC. You’re the best.”

His words were simple but they made MC’s heart swell with happiness. They were so happy actually, that they may have lost focus and pressed a little too deep into Beel’s stomach. MC only realized this after he grimaced and stiffened up, a loud growl erupting from his middle, the hungry rumbles shaking their fingers before tapering off.

MC opened their mouth to apologize, but Beel was already waving it off with a miserable glance at his stomach.

“Don’t even, it’s not your fault,” he said. “I’m starving. It’s just so empty now, it feels like it’s trying to eat itself. The chefs must be really understaffed today or something, they usually have my food out by now.”

Not a second after he said that though, the rich, thick smell of a variety of foods suddenly got a lot stronger as several people made their way to MC and Beel’s booth. They were waiters, about ten in all, each carrying at least two platters piled high with food, if not more. MC could see burgers, fries, pizza, sushi, and then it seems for dessert they had platters full of Wicked Cupcakes and apple pie.

At the sight of the food MC was reminded that the whole reason they even found Beel eating dough in the kitchen was because they’d been craving a midnight snack, and their own middle shifted hungrily as they gazed at the platters. Their stomach had nothing on Beel’s though, which gave a long, desperate rumble under MC’s hand. He even put his hand over theirs, pressing it deeper into his belly in an attempt to soothe his hunger.

“Sorry for the wait,” one of the waiters said, giving a small chuckle at the look of surprise and desire on Beel’s face. “We wanted to bring it out all at once as a surprise!”

“Well you definitely surprised me,” Beel said, eyes wide as they set down the food in front of him, swallowing thickly at the scent of the burgers only a foot away. But suddenly he got a rather sad look on his face, and he squeezed his eyes closed. “I-I’m sorry, I can’t take all this, Lucifer would kill me if I bought this much food at once--”

“Beel, you misunderstand, it’s on the house!” a curly haired waiter said, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder after setting down a platter of apple pie.

“What?” Beel said, his eyes flicking open again, but staring at the waiter instead this time. “Why?”

“MC told us what happened,” the waiter answered. “And when you came in here you looked so upset, we wanted to do something special for you. You’re our oldest customer here, you were here buying food back when Hell’s Kitchen was small and struggling to stay open.”

“I remember when you found out we were on the edge of going out of business you bought all your meals here for weeks until business picked up again so we could keep everything afloat,” another waiter chimed in.

“And you’ve brought your brothers here for every birthday you’ve had since we opened,” said someone else.

“You’ve been here for us for years, Beel,” the curly haired waiter said. “We figured it was time we tried to pay you back.”

Beel stared at the waiters gathered around him for a moment, his mouth open but with no sound coming out.

“Thank you,” he said eventually. “Thank you, that… that means a lot.” He looked down, his face turning red as his voice cracked with emotion. Several waiters made noises of sympathy or an understanding chuckle, before they all suddenly gathered around the back of the booth, reaching forward to wrap their arms around Beel. MC laughed at the awkwardness of everyone pressed around them, but they could tell Beel was enjoying the affection immensely, a small smile widening on his face, a soft blush in his cheeks.

However, his belly had other plans.

A loud rumble suddenly sounded from Beel’s stomach, sounding quite empty, and desperate for the food in front of it. MC could feel his stomach shaking under their hand, and it was certain that anyone who’s arms or hands were near his belly could feel it too.

“Aww, Beel!”

“Your poor belly!”

“Jeez, you’re really empty aren’t you?”

“Poor thing!”

If it was possible Beel turned even redder, laughing a little nervously as MC patted his belly sympathetically.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m starving.”

“No shit,” said the curly haired waiter with a laugh. “We’ll leave you and MC to your food. You fill up, let us know if you need anything, alright?” Beel nodded, waving goodbye to the waiters as they returned to their jobs.

“Wow,” he whispered, staring at all the food. “I… fuck, I don’t even know where to start.” He sounded overwhelmed, but in a delighted, eager way. His belly gurgled excitedly, and he quickly reached out, grabbing the first thing his fingers touched, which happened to be a burger. He ate half of it in one bite.

“Mmmmf,” he said, letting his head fall back against the cushion as he chewed. When he swallowed MC could feel his stomach immediately start to churn and contract, breaking down the food rapidly. It seemed quite happy to finally have something to digest.

“Feel better?” they said with a small laugh as he shoved the rest of the burger in his mouth. Beel just nodded, a deep sigh escaping him after he swallowed. It was in that relaxed, blissful moment that Beel’s form changed, his horns and wings retracting, his clothes shifting from the leather of his demon form back to his soft pajamas he’d gone to bed in.

“Much better,” he said. He reached for a slice of pizza next, folding it in his fingers so the whole thing would fit in his mouth easier. He looked a bit like a chipmunk now, and MC laughed at the way his cheeks puffed out.

“How the hell do you fit all that in your mouth?” they said. Beel swallowed, with a bit of difficulty it seems, but his eyes were bright when he answered.

“Lots of practice,” he said. “Chubby Bunny was my favorite game when I was little. I always won, even with Mammon stuffing bunnies in his mouth like a maniac.”

“…Human world Chubby Bunny is very different from Devildom Chubby Bunny.”

Beel laughed, grabbing a plate of sushi and ignoring the chopsticks, instead just picking it up with his fingers and popping the roll in his mouth. Then he suddenly looked down at MC, glancing from their eyes to their hand still rubbing his stomach, and back.

“Do… you want me to stop?” they asked, a little confused.

“Huh? Oh, no, well, I mean--Weren’t you hungry?” he said, pushing another roll of sushi in his mouth. “You came to the kitchen because you were hungry, right? Here, you like apple pie, right?” Beel pushed the large platter of pie slices over to them, looking expectantly from MC to the pie and back. They smiled and thanked him, transferring a slice to their plate and starting to eat. When MC took the first bite he beamed in approval before continuing to eat his own food.

For a while there was silence, each of them too focused on their food to talk much, but after finishing their second slice of pie MC was starting to feel a bit sleepy again. They turned to Beel, wondering if he wanted to box up the rest of his food and eat it at home, but when they actually saw him, that was no longer at the forefront of their mind.

Beel had actually stopped eating, though not because he’d run out of food, in fact there were a few platters still untouched. No, Beel had stopped eating because there was a significant swell in his middle that definitely hadn’t been there before. His stomach was so full it had begun to press against his shirt, making it look a bit smaller than it was supposed to. He looked up at MC after a moment, hands over his stomach, and a sleepy little smile on his face.

“Think ‘m full now,” he said. “You weren’t lying when you said I’d be so full my shirt doesn’t fit right.” MC laughed, reaching over to press their hand into his belly again. It was still grumbling, but it was in a muffled, happy way now. They weren’t sharp noises, more soft and low, almost like the sound of a kitten purring.

“You sure sound full,” they said, massaging slow circles into his stomach. “You wanna head home? We can get boxes for the rest of your food, we can eat it for breakfast tomorrow.”

Beel nodded, but suddenly leaned over, pressing his cheek to the top of their head.

“Thanks for coming here with me. An’ for rubbing m’ tummy. That felt really nice, even when I was hungry,” he mumbled into their hair. MC laughed and patted his swollen middle.

“Well tell you what, when we get home I’ll rub your tummy all you want, how bout that?” they said. Beel made a small noise of delight and wrapped his arms around them in a tight hug.

It was the best hug they’d ever gotten in their life.

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

I dont know if i sent a request in befor ebut im sending in a sad one for me personally. Okay so the turtles have known reader for awhile, shes usually optimistic, chill person but one day something like so miniscule happens at the lair. Like mike slammed a door too loud or Leonardos simple change in tone and she ends up in like a bad episode, like pleads and shakes and crys cause of ptsd and cant be touched by certain people. Maybe case or vern? Cause men. Human men are awful in her eyes

I’m so sorry this has taken me so long to get to, I really hope you’re feeling better now or at least managing xox

Leo

So Leo is reading, kind of to you, kind of to himself

just reading out loud basically 

he turns the page an suddenly “FUCK” 

he practically yells it, it’s very loud and sudden and caught you off guard

it was only a paper cut

you can’t help it, tears spring to your eyes

no one notices at first because they’re concerned with his exclamation 

but as your heaving breaths get louder and as you start to shake and sob they notice

Casey comes over and puts an arm around you to try and comfort you

you flinch and start crying harder, almost yelling “NO!” at him

Leo comes over and hesitantly kneels by you

he asks the others to leave you both for a moment and they all comply

“hey” he says in his softest voice “What’s up? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

all you can get out is “I’m sorry” over and over again

“Is this ok?” he puts a hand on your back and tenderly rubs it with his thumb

you don’t seem to hate it so he leaves his hand there

“look” he begins “I don’t know what’s happening, but you don’t need to be sorry for anything. And whatever you’re going through, we’ll get through it together, like we always do”

you take your face out of your hands, eyes red and face flushed from crying so hard

he smiles meekly at you, trying to look like he knows what he’s doing

“is there anything I can do for you?”

“just stay”

so he sits on the floor with you and waits for this episode to be over

occasionally reminding you how brave you are and how much he loves you

for the rest of the day he makes sure to be extra attentive and loving towards you, making sure to see to your every need and check you’re ok

Raph

you’re sat at the kitchen table while he cooks the whole gang some breakfast

everyone is just chatting and having a laugh

he flips over one of the pancakes and then punches a cupboard with a “it’s fucking burnt!”

it was so out of nowhere, as his moods often can be, that you don’t see your reaction coming

you nearly scream in emotional distress

but cover your mouth in time and a mewling cry is all that comes out

crying and shaking

Vern comes up to you and tries to give you a hug which you desperately try to squirm out of, clearly hating the contact

next thing you know Raph pull shim off and shoves him across the room

“Don’t touch ‘em!”

he gets down to your face level

“angel, what’s happening? Tell me what I can do, please”

he’s pleading

you can’t say anything, all you can do is just cry and shake

he puts a sheepish hand on your knee to try and gage your reaction, when you seem fine with it he keeps it there

“Baby, I’m sorry if I upset you” he says in that low, gentle tone he uses just for you “hey, come on”

he takes your hand and guides you out of the room to somewhere more quiet and peaceful

“how ‘bout we just stay here till you feel better?”

you nod

he starts mindlessly talking to fill the silence, he can’t stand hearing you cry

“....And I’ll be less angry, I won;t yell like that around you ever and I’’’ be calm. I’ll get fucking zen training from Leo if I have to and I’ll...” he just goes on and on about how he’s going to be better for you

once the episode seems to be coming to an end you guys talk about what happened and he understands why you reacted how you did

he has a private word with Vern about how if he ever touches you again when you’re like that, he’ll brake his legs

Mikey

Mikey and you are in his room just hanging out

he’s trying on different clothes to get your opinion on them

but he shuts the wardrobe door way too loudly, slams it even

you don;t know what comes over you but the sudden loud noise just wrecks you

you start to cry and shake and can’t contain yourself

“no, no, no, no!” he starts

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- was it the noise? I’m so sorry”

he knows you don’t always like being touched when you get like this so he’s hesitant to hold you even though he wants to

he sits on the bed next to you and asks if he can put his arm around you

you nod so he gingerly places one arm around you and squeezes your shoulder

“we’re gonna get through this” he whispers

“you’re so strong and kind and I love you so much. Please just be ok”

you know he means it sincerely 

you sit like that for a while, it’s weird not hearing Mikey talk even though you can tell his mind is going a mile a minute

he hums though, all your fave songs and lullabies he hums and rocks you slightly while you cry

when the episode is over he asks what he can do better next time so you tell him what helps you

he order in food and you guys just stay in his room, he gets you plenty of blankets and pillows and just soft things to surround yourself with

the next day you find Donnie installing something in his closet doors

you ask what he’s doing and he says “oh yeah, Mikey said they make a really loud noise when they shut so I’m just putting something on so they won’t slam closed”

you smile at that, he’s always looking out for you

Donnie

you’re in the lab like always and Donnie is getting frustrated

he’s tried this sequence so many times before and it’s not working

finally, in a rage, he slams down a beaker and it shatters on the desk

you can’t take it, the energy in the room, the loud noise, the glass everywhere

he realises what he’s done the second you cover your face and start to cry

“I’m so, so sorry!” he whispers

“Oh god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t thinking!”

he sounds urgent but he’s almost inaudible 

“can- Can I touch you? Is that ok?”

you nod and he scoops you up in his arms

cradling you and whispering “it’s ok” over and over again as well as “I’m sorry”

your head is in the crook of his neck and he’s rubbing your back and stroking your hair

Casey passes by the room and see’s what’s happening, he walks over like he’s about to hug you but Donnie puts a stop the that right away and tells him to leave

“hey, honey, I’m so sorry. You didn’t cause that, it was just me being stupid. I’m so sorry, I’ll never do that again”

he gets down to eye level with you and smiles gingerly 

“we’re gonna get through this, ok?”

you nod again

once you’ve started to come out of the episode he apologises again and asks what he can do to protect your mental health better in future

the next day he buys you flowers as an “I’m sorry” gesture

he feels terrible to have brought that on in you and it shows

he shows you how if you hang flowers upside down they last forever so you do that

he calls it a gesture of his undying love for you

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.7 (finale)

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.6

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford sat on the kitchen floor with his back against the cupboards, clinging to his knees, his glasses still in hand. His throat was sore and his eyes hurt and his nose was runny and his heart was raw and broken, and yet he wasn’t done crying. Though he was done sobbing and occasionally crying so hard he thought he would throw up, free-flowing tears still streamed down his face as he hid the bottom-half of his head in his beefy arms. 

“What do we do now?” He moaned.

Stan looked at the know-it-all who didn’t have a clue. He sighed and moved to sit next to him, his back against the cupboard and his knees up by his chest as he combed his mullet. “I dunno… Sit here and die?”

Ford hiccuped a cruel laugh and buried his face in his arms fully. “I wish I could.”

Stan snorted. “What’s that saying? The good die young?”

Ford groaned and started to sob again. 

Stan rubbed his back, his head against the cupboard and he looked up at the ceiling. “O-Okay, okay… Let’s think about this. So we never made up, or something else really bad happened between us, and that’s the timeline Mabel was from, right?”

“Right.” Ford gruffed, lifting his head up and rubbing his eyes dry.

“So, since that didn’t happen, or it happened differently… B-But that doesn’t mean she’s… She’ll still exist in our timeline, won’t she? She’s gonna be okay?” He asked the scientist, digging for some kind of hope.

Ford sighed and rested his cleft chin on his arms. “As long as what happened didn’t interfere with Alex’s life too much… Which I don’t know how it could… Mabel and Dipper should still be born in 1999. There’s a small possibility they’ll be different than what they once were, or because of some unseen butterfly effect, their birth might be different or might not happen at all… But…”

The eldest by fifteen minutes slipped his glasses back on, stood, and said stubbornly, “I’m going to do what I can to ensure it is a better future than what the kids had. Our entire family was broken because of what we did and didn’t do. Clearly either one of us went insane or died or something horrible, and I won’t allow that to happen.”

“I don’t think we gotta worry too much about that happening.” Stan said from down on the floor. “I mean, if Mabel changed things so much that an entire reality changed, then we don’t really gotta do much except not screw this up.”

Ford laughed and held out a hand to his twin, who gladly clasped it and stood. “You’re right.”

But the men were disheartened to finally notice the mess in the kitchen. Mabel’s cake batter sat on the flour-dusted counter, the oven was hot and ready for baking, and the muffin tray was on the floor from where Mabel dropped it. Ford looked down at the sweater he was wearing - the sweater she had knitted for him - and without a word he walked to the living room and saw Mabel’s knitting sitting on the couch where she had left it, a completed red sweater with a golden heart on it.

Ford smiled mournfully and held the sweater as Stan joined him and gasped at the sweater. The big brother held it out to the little brother and croaked, “We’ll see her again.”

Stan smiled, cleared his throat, and took off his hoodie and snagged the new sweater to slip it over his old white t-shirt. “Yeah.”

~~~~~~~~~~

July 22nd, 1980

Ford held the lantern up to better read the writing in the cave. He peered at it and was intrigued by a description of a being with answers. It would be summoned if he read out-loud, and though there were many clear warnings against this, the desperate scientist was extremely tempted.

“Sixer! Let’s move before we get caved in or some shit.” Stan called as he walked up to Ford. “What are you reading, cavemen graffiti?”

“Look, Stanley, there are tales of an all-knowing being with answers. It could help me with my theory…”

“Nope.” Stan grabbed Ford by the collar of his trenchcoat and dragged him away like dragging a child out of a toy store.

“Stanley! Let me go!”

“That shit’s got bad voodoo written all over it! You’ve gotta be inhaling toxic cave gas or something to think summoning a demon is a good idea!”

“We don’t know it’s a demon.”

“Really? Then why does that wall read in old blood ‘Do not summon demon!’?”

“Huh. Well, um…”

“That’s what I thought, now don’t make me pick you up and carry you. Let’s move.” And he lightly shoved Ford forward to lead the walk away from the cave and through the tunnels for sunlight.

~~~~~~~~~~

Alex’s wedding was wonderful and a joyous day, but it also made Ford and Stan nervous. They both agreed not to say a word to anyone (as far as Fiddleford knew, Ford had found the girl’s parents and all was over and ended well), and white they were happy to be one step closer to meeting the kids, they were slightly worried that something might be different than Mabel’s timeline.

She never told them her mother’s name. Did Alex marry someone else? Did they marry at the correct time? There was no way of telling, and they both agreed to allow themselves to enjoy the day and maybe drink a little. Or a lot. 

~~~~~~~~~~

When Shermie called and told them that Alex and Dana were going to have a baby, Ford choked on his coffee and Stan dropped the phone. They silently exchanged looks and were terrified that there was only one baby. But it was seven months before the end of August, so maybe the new parents were choosing to keep everything a surprise. Knowing Alex, that is something he would do, especially if there were twins. A beautiful surprise for his twin uncles.

So they congratulated Shermie and made him swear to call them if anything happened so they could be there. And despite their fear, they were very joyous of becoming grunkles again.

~~~~~~~~~~

August 31st, 1999

The entire week leading up to the day, the men were incredibly anxious. The birthday was on 31st, which meant Dipper and Mabel could be born at 1am on the 31st, or 11pm on the 31st. They had no way of knowing, but as long as that damn telephone stayed silent, they weren't leaving the house all weekend. Neither of them slept the night of the 30th, just in case.

Finally, a little after coffee on the 31st, the phone rang. Both Ford and Stan tackled each other and fought for it, but Stan sat on Ford and grabbed it first.

“Stanley, get off me!”

“Stanley, what are you doing to your brother?” Shermie chuckled on the other end.

“Nevermind that, Sherm!” Stan laughed. “What’s going on with you?” He asked casually, though he smiled down at Ford, who smiled back, despite still being sat on in the kitchen.

“Well, you guys know I’m gonna be a grandpa soon…”

“Really? Had no idea.” Stan said sarcastically as he stood up to get off Ford. “So? Is it happening now?!” Ford ran down the hall.

Shermie laughed. “Yup. I just got here myself and Alex and Dana got here about twenty minutes ago.”

“Piedmont Hospital, right?”

“Right.”

“We’ll be there in six hours.”

“It’s an eight hour drive!”

“I said six hours!”

“STANL-” But Stan hung up the phone.

Stan hurried up to his attic bedroom and dressed in his baby-blue Hawaiian shirt and slacks, while also grabbing a suitcase he’s had ready all week, prepared to stay as long as Alex and Dana needed him.

He ran back downstairs with suitcase in hand, with Ford by the door, and they sprinted into the Stanmobile and drove down the road.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shermie was waiting for them in the hall, beaming with joy, and his little brothers ran to him for a tackle-hug.

“Good to see you, Grandpa!”

“Congratulations, Shermie!”

“Thank you, thank you!”

“Did we miss it?!” Stan asked. “Has it happened yet?!”

Shermie grinned and nodded. “Yes, everyone is safe and fine.” And he opened the door.

The aged explorers beamed (and no, they weren’t crying) to find Alex holding one baby and Dana holding another baby. The eldest pair of twins high-sixed and cheered and then gently approached the little ones, beaming down at them.

It was like they had been holding their breath for twenty years, and now they could finally breathe.

“What are their names?” Ford asked quietly, seeing how each newborn was sleeping soundly.

“This is Mabel,” Alex introduced, giving the bundle to Stan.

“And this is Mason.” Dana said tiredly, giving her son to Ford to hold.

Stan and Ford were a bit concerned with the name change, but one look at the baby boy relaxed them. Of course a name like Dipper was a nickname.

“Matching names, huh?” Stan asked cheekily, cradling Mabel and looking down at her with shining brown eyes.

“We couldn’t help ourselves.” Alex chuckled.

Ford’s eyes were glued to Mason. While of course he had been dying to see Mabel again, he had also been excited to meet his science-loving nephew. He was so cute and small in his polydactyl hands and Ford knew it would take a lot more strength than what he had to let him go.

The author tore his eyes away to see his twin looking down at Mabel with tears in his eyes, holding her close to his heart and trying really hard to hold it together, but his joy and peace was far stronger than any bad habits that stopped him from showing his emotions. Stan lightly kissed Mabel’s cheek and Ford saw his lips barely move, though he didn’t hear what he said. Which was fine by him. Ford smiled back down at Mason, finally content.

No one heard him say it, thank Moses, but Stan couldn’t help himself. He had whispered to his niece as quiet as a mouse, “I’ve missed you, pumpkin.”

And finally, after all these years, the small hole in the boys’ hearts could be filled.

THE END!