#sorry but it’s been a while since i’ve made anyone cry and i’m getting withdrawal

[mmavverickk]

anyway have you ever considered that, despite how thrilled Percy is to have a little sister, he must have some Bad feelings about it?

he goes missing—kidnapped by the gods—for almost nine months and when he comes back, his mom is close to having a fully-mortal baby with a mortal man that loves her, that would never leave her.

and this baby won’t ever have to risk its life the way Percy’s had to time and time again. this baby won’t leave Sally the way Percy has had to. this baby will never be in danger the way Percy has been.

like he must be so excited to be an older brother, but deep down he must also fear despite knowing how unfounded it is that he’s being replaced with a better, less troubled, more stable kid.

[earliebirb]

Steve not noticing that he goes into Tony kisses withdrawals when Tony’s away, but the rest of the team do. Like a first if Tony is out for a day or two and Steve doesn’t get his morning kiss he’s grumpy until after lunch, so the team introduces secret “Tony is away” brunch protocols, to get it over faster. After 4 days he’s moping unless he’s training or out with friends so it’s bootcamp/friend fieldtrips time.

2 weeks where he’s not on a mission and Tony’s out of the country and so busy he can barely video chat? The rest of the team sequesters him to the couch with ice cream and tv shows that Steve would like but aren’t on the “only watch first with Tony” list.

(The list includes all Star Wars’ and Treks, LoTR, Ghibli movies, and Die Hards. Steve can watch Mike Schur shows and Game of Thrones. While Disney movies and Romcoms are allowed by Tony without him, they are banned by the team cuz Steve starts crying during them at this point in the withdrawal process)

Eventually the team just kidnaps and throws him into a Quinjet and has him surprise Tony in his hotel after 3 weeks of no Tony and no mission calls. He is intolerably whiny, has grown his depression beard, and keeps calling the president, Fury, and other country’s heads of state to see if there’s aliens attacking.

LOOK LISTEN THE FIRST TIME I RECEIVED THIS ASK I WAS LIKE WOW ARE WE THE SAME PERSON??? Because Steve-suffering-from-Tony-withdrawal is also a personal headcanon of mine that I've carried in my head for years. It's my Favorite. This ask is very fun and made me laugh a lot and I love it very, very much. Keep your brilliant ideas coming, Anon. I really love them. (I am very sorry for taking a century to go through all of them 😔) Also, since it's Steve's birthday (shhh I'm not late, what are you talking about, shhhhh), I decided to develop this lovely idea and turn it into a birthday fic! I hope you like it! 🤍

let the heart grow fonder

steve/tony, birthday fluff, established relationship, 1174 words

“Was the flight really worth it? A few more days and I would’ve been home anyway.”

“Yeah.” Steve noses the back of his ear and Tony shivers. “But I would’ve been all alone on my birthday.”

“You would hardly be alone. There’s the whole team, and besides— The entire country would practically be celebrating your birthday. Fireworks, barbecues, the whole nine yards.”

“Not the same,” Steve insists stubbornly. Tony sees Steve cupping his hands to gather some water from in front of Tony’s chest before dumping it on Tony’s head. Closing his eyes, Tony lets the warm water seep into his hair and trickle down his face, neck, and back.

He opens his eyes when he feels Steve’s fingers sweeping his hair away from his forehead. “I would trade all of it for a day of doing nothing with my fella.”

“Sweet talker.” Tony huffs. 

“‘S true.” Steve punctuates his statement with a kiss on Tony’s shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“‘S all your fault. You’re the one who was gone for a ridiculously long time.”

“Honey, trust me, if I had the choice I would much rather stay at home with you.”

Steve sighs, the sound echoing in the bathroom. “I know.”

This time, Tony cups his hands together, gathering a mountain of soapsuds. He blows on it, sending suds and bubbles flying.

“Nat told me all about it, you know.”

“About what?” Steve asks, his luscious beard tickling Tony’s temple.

“About the depression beard. All your sulking and moping. And whining.”

“I did no such things. The beard is me… trying out a new look.”

Tony snorts. “And crying.” 

“Natasha’s a lying liar,” Steve grumbles, hiding his face in Tony’s hair.

“Come on, which movie was it?”

Steve stays silent. With his movements hidden by the soapy water, Tony pokes Steve’s side stealthily.

“Ah!” Steve yelps.

“Which movie was it, baby?”

Steve huffs, resting his forehead against the back of Tony’s skull. 

And then, finally:

“Dumbo,” Steve mumbles in defeat. Tony snickers.

“Oh, honey. You’re such a softie.” Tony sighs fondly as he leans back, letting more of his weight rest against Steve’s body. He lets out a delighted hum when Steve welcomes the extra weight by snaking an arm around his waist.

“No judging,” Steve whines, and Tony grins when he can hear the pout in his voice. “You’d been gone for two weeks by then and I really missed you. Besides, you have no room to talk. Remember The Fox and the Hound?”

“Please. That’s totally different.” Tony rolls his eyes. “Anyone who doesn’t cry at The Fox and the Hound is a monster.”

Submerged up to his shoulders in warm water and pressed up against his naked husband, Tony feels well-rested and content in a way he hadn’t been for the past few weeks.

Still, they only have a few days left before they have to leave for New York, so they should probably make good use of what little time they have left in Milan. 

“I wanna take you to this really beautiful restaurant for your birthday dinner. Super romantic. We could get a private table. You’d love it.”

“Yeah?” Tony feels Steve’s hand stroking up and down his stomach.

“Mm-hm. We should probably get out soon. Get dressed. Look presentable,” Tony says, resting his head back on one of Steve’s shoulders and looking up at him.

Steve looks down at him, his unfairly long lashes wet and clumped together. For a moment, he simply stares back at Tony silently.

“What?” Tony eventually says, unable to withstand the silent scrutiny. He breaks eye contact and lifts one of his feet up and out of the water just because he can, just for something to do.

Tony watches his own foot hover above the surface of the water for a few seconds before another hairy leg breaks the surface of the water. The bigger foot settles on top of Tony’s hovering one until his leg buckles under the weight, sending the two left feet plunging back into the water.

“Rude,” Tony remarks with a frown, turning back to stare up at Steve again.

Steve is already looking at him, almost as if he never looked away in the first place.

“What?”

“Would you be mad at me,” Steve begins, one of his hands reaching up to bury itself in Tony’s damp hair, fingers lightly scratching his scalp, “if I said I’d much prefer it if we stayed in tonight and ordered room service?”

Tony leans back, incredulous. “Room service?”

Steve nods.

“For your birthday dinner?”

He nods again.

“Why?”

Steve shrugs, disturbing the water slightly with the movement. “I mean, I didn’t exactly fly all the way to Italy for the food.”

Tony softens and tries in vain to hold back his smile.

“Yeah?”

An answering smile blooms on Steve’s face. He leans in to nudge Tony’s nose affectionately with his own. “Uh-huh.”

“What did you come here for then?” Tony asks, voice dangerously low and eyes never leaving Steve’s.

“Oh.” Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Keep looking at me like that and I may just skip the room service and go straight for dessert.”

Tony smirks devilishly. “What’s stopping you?”

Blinking rapidly, Steve swallows. “Yeah?”

“I mean, you are the birthday boy.” Tony strokes the line of Steve’s throat with the back of his fingertips and watches in glee as the man shivers.

Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Steve leans in close and—

“Actually, it’s me. I’m stopping you. I’m really craving some lasagna right now.”

Initially headed for Tony’s lips, Steve changes course and buries his face in Tony’s neck with a guttural groan. 

“Sweetheart. You’re not making things easy for me.”

Tony chuckles. “Nothing about me is easy, honey. I’m a challenge.”

“But it’s my birthday,” Steve complains, voice muffled.

“You got off an eight-hour flight, got to the hotel, and immediately napped for four hours. You haven’t had a proper meal.”

“I ate on the plane.”

“No, we need to get you some proper Italian food. Hearty, heartwarming, fulfilling.”

“Food is just food. I just wanna have you.”

“Um, excuse me? That is deeply insulting. Authentic Italian food is not just food, it’s an experience.”

“I wanna have the Tony experience.”

“You’ll get the Tony experience after you have a proper meal. Look, we can order room service, but we can’t skip dinner.” 

“Fine,” Steve grumbles, face finally emerging from its hiding place. “But can we stay like this for another fifteen minutes?”

Tony settles back against Steve’s chest and lets Steve pull him close. “Of course, birthday boy.”

Steve hums contentedly, resting his chin on the crown of Tony’s head. “You make me really happy, sweetheart. I love you.”

Tony feels Steve’s fingers interlocking on top of his stomach. He looks down, spotting the wedding ring worn on Steve’s ring finger, one that he knows is engraved with his own handwriting. 

The image of the ring is distorted by the water, but still, it glints golden. Tony smiles to himself.

“I love you, too, honey. Happy birthday.”

[meat--grindr]

Ohh your writing is wonderful... I’ve actually never requested before so I hope get this right but: could I request Billy Lenz x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB if it’s brought up) with Billy sucking on his partner’s fingers and discovering they are really, /really/ into it but also super embarrassed about it? Bastard-ness ensues. Hope this request is ok!

Okay? This is waaay more than okay! I’ve been so excited about this prompt since I received it! I’m so sorry for not getting to it earlier. I hope like six months later is better than never though! I’m also super excited to be your first request! I hope this lives up to your expectations, whatever they may have been!

Just a few general warnings beforehand: Billy is really rough with the reader he uses some extremely degrading language as per the canon (I’ve excluded the term ‘piggy,’ though, because I am NOT A FAN™ of that aspect of his dirty talk.) I want to specifically call to attention the liberal use of the terms ‘pussy’ and ‘cunt.’ The reader is never gendered with personal pronouns, but those words are used in reference to them and their anatomy several times. I am of the opinion that Mr. Lenz would use those terms regardless of what hole he’s using, but if they make you uncomfortable, maybe give this one a miss? Furthermore, I would like to mention that Billy is not a mentally well man (obviously) who has had a rather traumatic past with abuse, both of these are discussed within this fic, so please take care of yourselves and read this work responsibly if you want to read it at all. I don’t want anyone to be hurt by my writing because I didn’t warn them properly.

Also, this is my first time writing for Billy, so please forgive me if it takes a little while for me to get completely used to him. He’s a…unique fella, let’s say.

Editing Ripper’s Note: I was just about to post this when I realized I completely misread the prompt! I read it as the reader is really into sucking on Billy’s fingers, not the other way ‘round! I’ve been looking at this prompt, literally since December and still never caught on. I feel like a total idiot. I’m really sorry about that. I’ve decided to post this anyway because A) the kink is still there in the fic, just not exactly as requested, and B) I had already finished it by the time I noticed my mistake. So much time has passed and if the original requester is still keeping tabs on this blog, I don’t want to make them wait any longer. That being said, if you’d like me to write your request properly, please send me a message and I will do my best!

Mind Your Teeth – Billy Lenz (Gender Neutral* Reader) - NSFW

· Slick with sweat, your chest slides against the surface of your desk with each cruel snap of Billy’s hips. You can feel the laboured heaving of his chest against your back as he struggles for breath. It leaves his lips in ragged, staggering puffs, heavy and hot against your shoulder blade, accompanied every so often by the slick warmth of his saliva as it drips down onto your bare skin.

· Despite his gawky build, he manages to loom over you, folding you nearly in half against the desk. He’s made himself rather comfortable, sprawled over top of you. His chest presses against your back, boney ribs grinding against the knobs of your spine through the stiff, itchy fibers of his jumper. It’s sticking to your skin, soaked through in spots with sweat—yours and his—and you can feel it peeling up from your flesh with every movement he makes.

· He’s got you pinned, holding you down against the smooth wooden surface with little more than his weight. He’s surprisingly heavy, and though he doesn’t look it, Billy is a strong man—he’s more than capable both of lifting you off of the floor and pinning you down to it. He’s strong and his hands are by no means an exception to that rule. Though they may be long and thin, and they tremble whenever they hold you, his grip is nearly unbreakable. His clumsy fingers circle your wrists like iron fetters, dirty fingernails digging into the flesh of your forearms and cutting little crescents into the skin—just deep enough to sting. You can barely move beneath him—can barely breathe—and he knows this. He has you exactly where he wants you and you’re not going anywhere until he decides to let you.

· Another bruising thrust pitches you forward, and your knees bang against the desk drawers. You cry out, though whether it was for the dull ache in your legs or the sudden stab of pleasure between them, even you couldn’t say for certain. Though if there is any concern at all in Billy for your wellbeing, he’s certainly keeping it to himself. Your outburst only seems to egg him on, as his pace begins to take on a more frantic edge.

· His thrusts are shallow as he rocks into you—it’s as though he can’t bare to withdraw from the tight heat of your body for long. Dimly, through the fog of pleasure, you struggle to feel surprised. It’s all about instant gratification with Billy. Always has been—why should he tease himself or draw things out when he could just pry open your willing mouth and drag his cock against your tongue until he cums down your throat? Still, there is a force behind those thrusts—one which throws you up against the lip of the desk hard enough that you’re sure there will be a solid line of bruising along your midsection before the night is through. Every push of those hips shoves you forward a little more, until your head is nearly knocking against the wall and your toes barely touch the ground.

· Your cheek slides against a slick patch of wood and you realize you’ve been drooling across the desktop. The little puddle at the corner of your lips only grows in size as a particularly deep thrust from Billy wrings another string of wrecked whimpers from your throat. You wish you could pull away from the puddle—longing to drag the back of your hand across your cheek and wipe away the slickness, but there’s little you can do about it with Billy still holding your arms hostage. But at the same time, something about it thrills you—to be ruined like this—held still, unable to so anything but whimper, and drool, and take what you’re given. It’s…liberating.

· “C’mon, little bitch! Take my fat cock! You can t-t-take it better than that! Take it! Take-Take-Take it good for B-B-Billy!” He babbles into your shoulder, chapped lips scraping against your shoulder as he mouths at your flushed skin. His tongue flickers out, dragging a wet stripe against your skin, scorching hot, then suddenly too cool as it begins to dry in the open air.

· “Such a pretty pusssssy,” He slurs, “Pretty, pretty pusssssy. Gonna fill it up—gonna fill it with my fat ffffffucking cock!”

· You feel him jerk behind you, his muscles going taught as a violent spasm rolls through his body. When he speaks again, the voice that comes is not his own—it’s deeper, rumbling down in his chest, belonging to a man much larger than he, “Why I outta beat that boy! Beat him up good! Beat Billy bad! Beat him good! Beat him up, up, up!”

· His hips still and your heart leaps up into your throat, your pulse pounding hard in the tight space. This can’t be good. You squirm beneath him, trying and failing to turn your head. Your eyes roll wild in their sockets, desperate to get a good look at Billy, but he remains a shadow at the edge of your vision. You remember this voice. He had so many it was difficult to keep track of them sometimes—he’d mimic almost anything he heard; the children from down the road calling to one another while they played, the weatherman making predictions on the radio, even the neighbour’s cat. It was easy to forget which voices and phrases came from where once he’d picked them up and used them enough. But this is one that predates you, and you recognize it with a chilling clarity—the father’s voice: always angry, often violent.

· It frightens you when Billy uses it, though not because of the threat Billy poses to you. Of course, you know to tread carefully when he's in one of his moods—you’ve seen first hand the destruction wrought when his directionless frustration is given direction. But, you know this voice is a far more likely indicator that Billy is an imminent threat to himself. You’ve seen him pacing the floor like a caged animal, trembling hands beating about his head, tearing at his clothes and hair as he works through the frenzy, all the while babbling to himself in that deep, rumbling voice: “Rotten boy! Teach you a fucking lesson! Beat Billy! Bad Billy! Bad, Bad, Bad!” He's blackened his eyes, split his lips and knuckles, shattered countless plates and cut his hands on the shards. He loses himself in that voice, and that scares you.

· ‘Losing himself,’ that’s what you’ve come to call these episodes—those moments when his excitement and boundless energy curdle, souring into anxiety and agitation so quickly it makes you head spin. And in this moment, he’s displaying all the tell-tale sighs you’ve come to recognize—the full-body tremors, the angry voices, self-directed violence—mere threats or otherwise…

· No, this is not good. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him do this, and you’re sure it would not be the last, but he’s never done it while you were…playing before. And that worries you. You’re both vulnerable, half-undressed and bent over a desk. Even worse, he was behind you. You’d learned very quickly never to let him out of your sight when he got like this. He was unpredictable—prone to lashing out whether he meant to or not. But he wasn’t beyond helping. If you could just turn your head and look at him—make him see you, help him to ground himself like you practiced, you might be able to talk him down, or at least ease him through the worst of it. Maybe. If you could only get a look at him.

· You flounder for your voice and struggle to keep it steady once you find it, “Hey, B-Billy? Billy, baby, you’re okay, right?” It’s an innocent question you usually begin with when he gets like this. Sometimes he’s too worked up to even begin to answer you, sometimes he tries so damn hard to answer, but can’t—not in a way you could really understand anyhow—and sometimes you can talk it through with him. Every time you try, the reaction is different. You can only cross your fingers and pray for a positive outcome.

· This time, he coughs. It’s a horrible, a horrible, racking sound that echoes in his chest—it’s almost closer to a scream than anything else. Another spasm jitters through him, the joint in his neck snapping loud in the darkness. You feel his forehead collide with your shoulder once, twice, then he stills. His flesh is clammy against yours, and the gentle brush of his hair makes your skin prickle, but he seems calmer. He barks a laugh—his own this time—and nuzzles against your back, smearing your skin with sweat and saliva. “Fuck!” He says, as though that explains everything.

· “Billy? Are you…alright?”

· He chirps like bird, three short bursts of whistling he’d picked up last spring when a robin mad made a nest on your windowsill, “Right as rain, rain, rain!”

· You’re left with a heady rush of confusion and relief as you realize he must have pulled himself out of the hole he’d almost fallen into. A little flicker of pride sparks to life in your chest. He’s come so far.

· Your concern melts away once again into pleasure as Billy jerks his hips. Keening high in the back of his throat, he fucks himself deeper into you. He drags his cock out slow, sounding for all the world as though he’d forgotten just how good it felt to fuck you—as though he hadn’t been doing just that not sixty seconds ago. He scrapes his teeth against your shoulder, the promise of a bite that will surely come and mark you for days. His fingers flex around your wrists, blunt nails biting deeper into your flesh as he falls back into that brutal rhythm.

· Your legs begin to shake as Billy’s cock bumps up against something a bit more sensitive inside of you. Your breath fogs against the surface of the desk as it heaves from your lungs, a thin mist that barely has the time to fade before the next heavy puff of air replaces it. You find yourself struggling to swallow the moans Billy’s working so hard to pull from you. You know how much he likes to hear you—how wild it makes him—and you know there’s no real need to be quiet, not with the dorm cleared out for the long weekend. Still, something—be it a force of habit from living in close quarters with thin walls, or simply your own embarrassment—keeps you quiet.

· “Fiiiilthy whore!” A growl, caught low in his throat, tears through the air between you, “Pretty pussy! Want it full! My cock, my cum…gonna fill it full!” Never at a loss for a string of vulgarities, Billy mumbles against your skin, his words slurring into one another until you can barely decipher one though from the other.

· “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!” Billy jerks his hips forward, and for the first time this evening, you feel the full length of his cock stretching you out. You jerk beneath him, mewling into the desktop, squirming about as you try desperately to relax around him. You’re so full—so full you can barely breathe, but it feels so good. Your muscles contract around him, unbidden, throbbing with the sudden stretch. It makes him shudder and sigh above you, a wavering rush of air than hisses out between his teeth.

· He holds you there for a moment, trembling almost as much as you are, “Tight fffucking cunt, so fucking tiiight for Billy!” His hips stutter forward in time with his ragged breathing. Desperately, he tries to fuck himself deeper into you, even though he can’t—he’s already buried to the hilt, his hips tucked snugly against your ass. But he gives it the old college try anyhow. He begins to babble nonsensically against your neck, “Ruin it, ruin it! Never take another cock! Full, full, full! I left it in the kitchen, Jan! Not after Billy’s! A low pressure system moving in and—fuck you full, fuck you full, full, full!”

· The tops of his thighs quiver as he grinds into you, and as he shifts, the head of his cock presses against something. For a moment, your vision goes white. Your legs seem to fall away beneath you, your knees drifting south as the pleasure carries away their ability to hold you upright any longer. If it weren’t for the desk, you probably would have slid down into a boneless heap on the floor.

· You gasp, mouth gaping wide, pulling in a great, deep lungful of air. To call his name? To beg him for more? To put wordless voice to your pleasure? You aren’t sure. There is little room in your brain for thought beyond the need for more. Mercifully, Billy saves you from the struggle before you can waste too much energy on it.

· Almost as soon as he realizes your mouth is open, Billy shoves his fingers into your mouth. Two boney digits slide against your tongue, pressing and prodding against the slick muscle. The taste of dust and salt floods your mouth with the intrusion. You wrinkle your nose, and try to pull your head back, but Billy leans down into you, pressing you down further beneath his weight, grinding your ribs into the desktop.

· “No, no, no,” He chides, voice soft and light—almost cheerful. He spreads his fingers apart, rubbing over the hard bumps of your bottom teeth with a tenderness you rarely see in him. “Gotta make room,” His voice rumbles through you as he presses his lips against your flesh, “Gotta stretch it out for Billy, or he won’t fit!”

· He nuzzles his cheek against your shoulder, still rocking his hips into you, pressing against that spot that makes your brain fill with television static, “Billy’s gonna fuck your throat once he’s filled that pretty pussy!”

· Your lips are pulled taught as his fingers press against the walls of your mouth, testing its limits. “Soft and warm! Wanna fuck it! Fuck it deep!”

· His hips buck hard, shoving you another inch toward the wall. You can feel yourself drooling around his fingers—your saliva dripping down your chin in great rivulets and collecting beneath your cheek.

· His knuckles bump against the roof of your mouth as the pads of his fingers find the back of your tongue. You gag around them, struggling to breathe, but Billy just laughs and presses down harder.

· “Again,” His voice comes out in a ragged puff of breath, half-whisper, half-growl, rough as rock salt, “Pussy gets tight when it chokes.”

· You try to suck in a shocked breath, but you can’t manage it around his fingers. Your throat convulses around him as you struggle to breathe.

· You feel his cock pulse inside of you and he groans his pleasure long and low into the darkness, “Yesssss!”

· He rocks into you again, “No one fucks like Billy, huh?” He pulls back, his cock nearly slipping from your body entirely, then he slams his hips home again, “No one fucks you full like Billy can! No one! No one! No one!” The phrase becomes a litany, each sentence punctuated with a bruising snap of his hips. “Know why?” He drags his teeth along the edge of your shoulder blade, “Know why?” You can hear the grin in his voice, wide and sharp, “‘Cuz Billy fills you up from both ends!”

· You sob around Billy’s fingers, your eyes rolling back as he pushes them deeper into your mouth. If he keeps on like this, it won’t be long before you fall apart around him—you want to cum so desperately, you can hardly keep another thought in your brain. Your muscles clench up around him and he laughs, giggling to himself as he hooks his chin over your shoulder. He can feel how close you are.

· His tongue slides against the side of your face, leaving a thick, wet stripe across your cheekbone. His lips scratch rough against your jaw, “Pretty pussy’s gonna cum? Gonna cum all over Billy’s fat fucking cock? Yeah?” His simpering tone makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you nod. Another peal of sick laughter bubbles up in his throat, “You’re gonna cum and Billy’s not even trying! So dirty, dirty, dirty!”

· You whine around his fingers as he babbles on, “Billy could fuck you harder, but he doesn’t need to! Stupid, greedy pussy, silly fucking cunt can cum like this!” His teeth sink into your shoulder and the rest of his diatribe is lost to you. Even so, he continues to mumble filth against the skin caught between his teeth.

· The bite stings, bright and sharp, and you sob around him, clenching your jaw, your teeth digging into his fingers. Billy releases you with a hiss, dipping his head into the crook of your neck. You think for a moment you might have hurt him, but in mere seconds, he’s giggling to himself again. “Sharp, sharp teeth! No good. No, no good. Not for Billy’s cock. Gotta tear them out, make room for Billy!”

· Though you know the threat is mostly empty, the way Billy caresses your molars with the pad of his finger makes you a little nervous. You’re sure if he could get a good grip, he could easily ‘make room,’ and there was probably not much you could do to stop him. But he pulls his fingers back, retreating from the crushing press of your back teeth.

· He presses down against your tongue again, rubbing against the slick muscle fondly. “Need to practice! Greedy cunt needs to learn! Learn to suck Billy’s fat cock properly.” He snaps his hips, as though trying to remind you just how fat it really was—as though there was any change you could forget while it was rearranging your guts for you. “Gonna teach you to take it good!”

· Your eyes roll back at the thought. You can picture yourself kneeling under the desk, Billy draped over the chair, wild hair falling over his eyes as you try to take him all the way down to the base. He’d fuck your throat until your vision goes black, his fingers tangled deep in your hair, nails digging into your scalp. Your own fingers slide desperately between your thighs, chasing your release as he chases his own and god what you wouldn’t give to make the fantasy real—to feel the length of him in your mouth, the rough denim of his pants beneath your hands, the jerk and sting against your scalp as he tugs on your hair. Your cheeks hollow around Billy’s fingers, a pretty whine sitting high in the back of your throat.

· And Billy stops—stops moving, stops talking. He hovers above you, silent and still as a statue, barely breathing. A terrible moment of clarity washes over you and the embarrassment comes rolling in. There you were, still stretched out on Billy’s cock, barely moments away from an orgasm and you were already thinking about another? Were you really that desperate? Your cheeks burn hot against the cool wood of the desktop. Shame licks at the pit of your stomach—it wasn’t unlink Billy to think this way, he was always seeking the next shot of pleasure, but it wasn’t like you. As though it wasn’t bad enough to catch yourself thinking that way…for someone else to do it? It was mortifying…and maybe a little exciting too.

· Your stomach flips as Billy shifts behind you, the burgeoning stubble on his jaw scraping across your sensitive skin. Then you feel it, a smile spreading across his face—it’s a grin you’ve come to know well, all teeth and wide enough to make his jaw pop. Even without looking at him, you know you’re fucked.

· All at once, he lurches to life again, fucking his fingers hard into your mouth, in tandem with the harsh thrusts of his hips. A filthy string of gibberish falls from his lips as he pounds into you, “Greedy! Greedy cunt! Want it in your mouth too? Filthy, greedy fucking whore!”

· You whine, and choke, and sob around Billy’s fingers. Your face is wet with sweat, with spit, with tears, you can’t tell and at this point, you’re far beyond the point of caring. The world has narrowed to a single point between your legs as you teeter on the knife’s edge of your release. You rock your hips back against Billy, meeting his thrusts, desperate for more. You’re so, so close, and Billy can feel it too—the way you tighten around him spurring his pace from wild to frantic.

· His voice is broken, his words panted out between jagged breaths and garbled moans, “Gonna be good for Billy? Gonna cum?” His face is buried in the crook of your neck. He giggles against your flesh as he splits you open, slamming into you like it’s the last fuck he’ll ever have. “C’mon, take what Billy gives you! Take it, take it, t—ta—fuuuck!”

· Your hips stutter as your orgasm throbs through you. You scream around his fingers as you cum, your muscles clamping down around Billy so hard he almost has to stop moving, rolling his hips forward quick and shallow. His howl is lost in the sound of blood rushing in your ears, but you can feel it vibrating through his chest, and down into your back. Your fingers scrabble at the wood beneath you, desperate for something to latch onto—to keep you grounded here as the pleasure threatens to carry you away.

· You sob and slump limp against the desk, letting it bear the brunt of your weight. There’s just no strength left in your body anymore. Your hands and feet tingle with the lingering aftershocks of the adrenaline as you begin to come down from your high, and your breath comes hard, as though you’ve run a great distance. Billy’s hips continue to snap against yours, brutal and quick. You sob into his fingers, the as the relentless pleasure sparks through you, nearly painful to your sparking nerves.

· Slowly, as your ears stop ringing, you realize Billy is still talking, babbling away in several voices. “Like your pussy tight like this. Wanna fuck you full while you cum again and again and again and I told you, Jan, I left it in the kitchen! Make you soaked, keep you soaking wet, make you fucking cry! Where is that cat? Where’s that cat? Where’s the…WHERE’S THE BABY, BILLY?! AGNES? WHERE’S AGNES, BILLY?! Beat that kid! Teach him a lesson! BEAT HIM UP GOOD!”

· His left hand shoots up from your arm and wraps around your throat, fingers flexing around your windpipe, not quite squeezing, yet, but the pressure is far from comfortable.

· “T-T-Teach rotten old Billy a lesson.” A spike of fear shoots through you and you choke around his fingers. This seems to bring his mind back, at least in part, to the present, or at least confuse him enough to serve as a distraction—he makes a noise caught between two voices. The fear that courses through you lends new strength to your limbs as you reach up and claw at his fingers.

· As you attempt to pry him lose, his grip only tightens, fingers locking around your windpipe, “Teach that boy a FUCKING lesson!” The knobby joints of his fingers press hard against the pulse in your throat and you’re sure he can feel it hammering beneath your skin. He’s losing himself again, you’re sure.

· But again, this time was different. He hadn’t stopped fucking his cock into you like he had before, and he’d wavered for a moment, when you’d choked on him. There might be something else you could do to help him. Desperate to keep him here with you in the present moment, you flex your tongue against his fingers. His hips stutter and your heart skips a beat in turn. “Filthy fucking c-c-cunt…”

· You bob your head, hollowing your cheeks around his fingers again. C’mon, Billy!

· “F-Fuck!” It’s not quite his voice, but it’s close, perhaps a little higher, a little more strained than usual, but it’s close. “Where’s the baby, Billy? Where’s the…c-c-cat gone to now?” His fingers begin to relax around your throat, but you keep sucking on his fingers, wanting to make sure you’re well and truly out of the woods before you even think about stopping. If this is going to work, you’re going to make damn sure of it.

· “Fucking greedy little cunt!” You could have cried with relief at the sound of his voice—his real voice. You hum around his fingers, and he laughs, the sound low and rumbly, “Still so fucking eager.” His hips buck forward, pressing deep inside of you. It’s still too much, too soon, and you sob with the overstimulation. The sudden spike of pleasure punches the air from your lungs and shakes your legs from underneath you.

· Billy groans as you pulse around him. “You want Billy to cum? Wand Billy to fucking fill you?” You nod frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he grinds into that spot, filling your vision with white hot splotches of light.

· “Suck his cock, then,” he says, shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth again. He spreads them wide, nearly matching the girth of his cock where it fucks you open. Billy jitters behind you, chasing his release with quick, cruel thrusts. Impatient as always, he pushes digs his nail into the wall of your cheek, “Fucking suck Billy’s cock!”

· You jerk into motion as though startled from a deep sleep, pressing your head down against his fingers to take them as deep as you could. Your tongue laves against the digits, prodding gently against his scarred knuckles, playing in the space between them.

· Billy throws his head back, moaning to the ceiling long and loud, “Yessss! Good little pet! Pretty, pretty pet! His fingers stroke your throat as though he’s petting a cat, feeling it work up and down as you swallow around him. “Gooood pet! Suck Billy’s cock! Suck his cock! Su—NO!”

· Suddenly, he stops, his fingers stilling. For a moment, you think you’ve done something wrong. Had your teeth caught against him? Had you hurt him? Should you pull back and ask, or carry on? Before you can make a decision one way or another, Billy thrusts his fingers back into your throat, pressing them in as deep as he could. His knuckles bump against your back molars as you gag around him, trying desperately to breathe through your nose.

· “Lick Billy’s cunt,” For a moment, you’re still, confusion slicing through the pleasure. Billy tries to press his hand forward, his fingertips brushing against the back of your throat, “Lick it! Lick Billy’s cunt! Lick it! Lick it! Tongue his fffffucking clit!” You think about it for a moment, your exhausted, lust-fogged brain struggling to put two and two together, and then suddenly you think you understand. As gingerly as you can, while Billy continues to rock you forward over the desk, you press your tongue against the soft spot between his knuckles.

· This must have been what he’d wanted because the sound he makes is like nothing you’ve ever heard before—a wail caught somewhere between human and animal. You’ve never heard a human sound like that before. Like so many things about Billy, it’s frightening, and yet it fascinates you, attracts you, arouses you. You press your tongue harder against that spot, and the frantic rocking of his hips picks up again—but this time there’s no rhythm to it. He’s close.

· “Fucking lick Billy’s clit, make him cum! Make him cum in your pretty pussy!” You lap at his flesh with quick, deliberate swipes of your tongue. He howls against your flesh, his forehead thudding against your shoulder heavy and hard. “Fuck, f-f-f-fuck, make Billy fucking cum! Billy’s gonna, he’s-he’s-he’s gonna—!”

· In the moment before he cums everything is calm. He stills, and his voice is soft and steady in your ear; “I’m going to ruin you.”

· Then the world falls back into chaos.

· His whole body shudders above you, a bag of jangling bones he couldn’t keep control of if his life had depended on it. His teeth fix themselves deep into your shoulder, slotting into the indentations they’d left not long before. You cry out around his fingers, sure he’s drawn blood this time. You can see it when you close your eyes, visions of thick red blood splattered against his dark incisors floating against the dark inside of your eyelids.

· He shudders, momentarily stilling, then kicking back into motion, seemingly unable to deicide if he’d rather pound you through his orgasm or remain still, buried to the hilt in your tight heat. You feel the heat of him inside of you pulsing against your walls as he cums. His cheek is pressed tight against your shoulder gibbering a collection nonsensical sounds and snatches of obscenities into your flesh, “Pretty pink cunt! ah, ahhhh, fuuh—fuuuh—fuck! Dripping now! Where did you leave it? Left it fucking dripping!"

· You’re sore beyond belief from the pounding you’ve taken, but there’s still a throbbing want underneath. He’d dragged you most of the way to a second orgasm, now all you needed was a little push. Before you were completely at is mercy, able only to receive the pleasure he decided to give you. But now, your hands were free and with them you could do as you pleased. You wriggle beneath him, slipping your hands down between your thighs.

· Your fingers find their prize, and you sob, your whole body jerking forward. Even though you’d cum mere moments ago, you can’t believe how sensitive you are. You’re on the verge of orgasm almost immediately. You press harder the slide of your fingers aided both Billy’s cum and your own. You shudder, whimpering around his fingers. Your muscles clamp down on him once again, throbbing and pulsing as your orgasm builds.

· He hooks his finger inside of your cheek and pulls, “Wanna cum again. Wanna cum in your mouth,” He pulls harder exposing the sides of your teeth, “Billy wants to feel them! Feel them on his cock! Sharp and hard.” He laughs, “But Billy likes it hard.” The harsh snap of his hips that follows has you seeing spots. He opens his mouth as though to gloat, as you clench around him, he loses his words. Whimpering, soft and broken sounds against your neck, he grinds into you.

· Seconds later, you clamp down around him, a second orgasm shooting through you. The sound he makes as you cum on his oversensitive cock is nothing short of feral. He bucks wildly into you, seeking more of a pleasure that sounds almost painful as he sobs into your shoulder. His cock pulses inside of you again, throbbing as he fucks his cum deeper inside of you, as though intent on giving you more.

· And you’re sure he would. Or he would have, if you hadn’t reached back and pushed against his shoulder. He was insatiable—he’d keep going for hours unless you stop him now.

· He pulls his fingers out first, a pearly string of saliva connecting your lips to his fingertips. You cough, scratchy and wet, but when you speak, there’s no pain. “I…I just need a little break, Bills. Okay?” Your chest is heaving as you struggle for air. Billy hums above you, hesitating for a moment. He’s reluctant to give up the tight heat of your body. But at last, after nearly a full minute of grumbling and mumbling to himself, he pulls out.

· There's a sticky gush of fluids against your thigh as his cum beings to leak out of you. You rest there for a moment, the pair of you breathing hard in the darkness, the comfortable weight of his body pressing down above you, the solid plane of the desktop below. Then all of a sudden, you’re being lifted up. You squeal in shock as your flipped about and placed atop the desk. The surface is still cool against your heated flesh. The difference in temperature is a shock to your system and goosebumps break out across your arms and legs.

· Before you have a moment to process what’s happening, Billy’s head is between your thighs, his tongue lapping at mess he’d made. Your eyes go wide, and you head knocks against a wall as it falls back, “Fuuuuck, Billy!” Your hips cant up against his face, thighs squeezing tight around his ears.

· “Pretty pussy came twice already,” You can feel him smirking against your inner thigh. “Still wants more? Greedy, greedy, greedy.” You catch a glimpse of his eyes, wide and wild, shining in the darkness beneath is tangled hair, “It’s okay, Billy likes you greedy.”

[lcksndkys]

Title: Here for you 

Pairing: PJM x reader

Rating: SFW

Genre: fwb au meets hospital au

Word count: 1,475

Summary: after an especially hard day at work, Jimin tries to comfort you, except you don't seem to respond to his usual tactics. 

Warnings: imposter syndrome, a penis wiggle, discussions of medical complications but no death, implied smut

A/N: Hi, all!! There’s a bit of medical lingo. Resident= a physician who practices under the supervision of an attending physician. Attendings= doctors who have completed a residency, and supervise residents. Med surg= medical surgical unit/floor of the hospital where patients are generally, but not limited to, those recovering from some type of surgery. PE/pulmonary embolism= an emergent medical condition where there is a blood clot in the arteries that supply the lungs.

Also, this was written as part of the ghostie drabble marathon with the prompt: Character A gets emotional easily. Character B does not. A catches B crying alone and realizes that they never learned how to comfort B since they were usually the one getting comforted. Please drop a line, anything you want, to let me know what you think!!

You feel like an idiot. 

Head in your hands with your eyes squeezed shut, you inhale slow and deep to calm your stuttering breaths. 

Inhale, pause, exhale. Repeat.

You refuse to break down while at work. Doctors didn’t have that kind of luxury and you can’t sit here forever (even if a small part of you wants to).

Hands braced on the cold, hard concrete of the hospital's dingy stairwell, you're ready to continue with morning rounds when the door suddenly opens.

Fluorescent light floods the dimly lit stairwell.

“Dr. Lee’s lookin for you,” comes Jimin’s concerned voice.

“Fuck,” you whisper at being caught crying like a scared first year intern. You swipe under your eyes, erasing any trace of wetness and avoiding Jimin’s worried gaze. 

“Yeah, I was just- just going down for coffee. I’ll come right back up to med surg” you sputter. You’re nowhere near the cafeteria.

His dark eyes meet yours briefly. Two years of friendship and casual hooking up has him believing he knows you better than most. He knows when you’re lying.

 You make a quick exit, pushing past Jimin, refusing to make eye contact. Heading down towards the cafeteria to keep up pretenses, you decide maybe you do need the extra caffeine. 

Coffee in hand and hearing the death march ringing in your head, you dread meeting with your attending. 

Dr. Lee is a stern, but fair, mentor. She scolds you harshly for your mistake and then gently reminds you that this case will stay with you for the duration of your medical career. She promises you won’t let yourself make the same mistake twice. You hope she’s right.

By the end of the day, you’re feeling wretched. Having worked 80+ hours this week has exhausted you mentally, emotionally, and physically. 

You head to the staff changing rooms not noticing the figure following you. Angrily pulling off your scrub top, you pause at the soft knock at the door.

“It’s me,” comes the quiet of Jimin’s soothing lilt.

In your bra and scrub pants, you crack open the door and peer around him confirming that he’s alone. Opening the door wide enough to slip his lithe body between the cracks, you sigh.  “What do you want, Jimin”

“You had a rough day. I wanted to make you feel better” he rasps, winding his arms around you and pressing his body into yours. 

He easily crowds you against the door, one hand slithering around your waist, the other discreetly locking it.

Mouth slotting against yours, you part your lips wider to allow him to press his tongue to yours. You moan into his kiss, letting him tilt your head, deepening the angle. His hands wander the expanse of your exposed back, down your hips, and landing on the swell of your ass where he palms at the soft flesh.

He kisses you like it’s the last time every time. Ardently and enthusiastically, like he can’t get enough of you. It takes your breath away. 

You give yourself a moment to enjoy his affection, sliding your hands under his scrubs to scratch lightly against the soft skin of his abdominals before pushing him back with a firm hand against his chest. You pretend you don’t feel the rapid thrumming of his heart under your palm. 

“Not tonight, Jimin” you pant. 

You can’t get fully out of your head and into Jimin. Not right now. He lets you withdraw from him with worried eyes. 

The past two years have been hard, but your unforeseen friendship (turned fwb status in the last year) with Jimin has been a nice bonus. He made you laugh, he talked you up to the other nurses and your superiors, he made you cum, (he made your heart race, but you’d never tell him that). You were focused on completing your orthopedic residency and Jimin had hesitantly agreed that there were to be no strings. 

You hastily finish changing, stuffing your scrubs into your bag and making for the door.

Before you can hustle down the hallway and away from the sterile white of the hospital, you’re stopped by a firm, yet gentle, hand around your wrist. With a light tug you’re falling right back into his arms.

“It’s not your fault. You’re a great doctor” he insists, holding you close and pressing his forehead against yours.

Word gets around fast.

You scoff, tearing out of Jimin’s hold. 

Great doctor? A second year resident and you still feel like you’re flying by the seat of your pants. You don’t belong here.

“Shortness of breath, coughing, fatigue, recent surgical procedure, chest pain, lightheadedness when ambulating with physical therapy” you tick each off on your fingers. “Classic signs of a PE, Jimin, and I missed them all” you spit. 

The nurse shrinks back at your harsh words. After two years of friendship- and in Jimin’s opinion, more- he’s never seen you like this. Jimin has always been the emotional one; tenderhearted and in need of comfort after rough days. He’s always turned to you for that. 

“We caught it in time though. He’s gonna be fine” Jimin tries, trying to hold you closer.

Your brow furrows in frustration. He doesn’t get it.

“He could have died!” you burst. A patient could have died because you didn’t catch it when he threw a pulmonary embolism. “Stop trying to pretend you know what I’m thinking!”

At your venomous words, Jimin backs away. “I-I didn’t. I’m sorry. I only wanted to comfort you.” 

Eyes tight and biting his lip, he takes one last look at you before retreating back to his unit. 

You sigh, disappointed in yourself. But you have the next two blessed days off. Hopefully by then, you’ll have grown the nerve to apologize to Jimin for blowing up at him. 

Washing up and throwing your dirty scrubs in the laundry, you curl into your bed, finally allowing yourself to cry.

On day two, your phone pings with a notification. You see that Jimin has sent you a snapchat. 

Intrigued, you tap open the icon and-

Jimin is standing in front of his bathroom mirror- cheeks rosy, hair pushed back to expose his neatly trimmed undercut, ends dripping wet- covered only by a towel hanging from the base of his very erect penis. 

He must’ve just finished showering as you clearly see the beads of water running down his exposed neck and chest in rivers to undoubtedly pool on his bright orange bath mat. 

One hand is holding his phone, the other is waving into the mirror as he repeatedly clenches his pelvic floor muscles to make his rigid cock wiggle in greeting.

“Miss you,” comes his angelic voice.

He continues slowly waving, towel-covered cock bobbing in time with his hand as if purposely synchronized. 

“I hope you’re feeling better today” he says earnestly with a goofy smile.

You cackle at his antics, feeling your mood boost instantaneously. 

Eyes trained on his figure, you try to imprint this short video to the backs of your eyelids. It’s over as quickly as it began, video disappearing. 

Reciprocating, you snap back a shot of your body covered in nothing but his oversized shirt. Then, you open your texts and arrange for Jimin to meet you in an hour at your apartment. 

Waiting for his arrival, you pull out your favorite lube and some condoms in preparation. 

When your doorbell rings, you’re already worked up and ready for him to pound you into your mattress. 

Fixing your lips to his with a soft groan in greeting, you pull him towards your bedroom and pin him down onto the bed. 

You’re both panting when you break away from his plush lips to kiss down the column of his throat.

Jimin purrs beneath you, unable to resist the soft pull of your lips against his sensitive flesh.

“Shit, I wasn’t planning on-” he pulls back from you, eyes glazed with desire. “I just wanted to be here for you and make sure you- that we- were ok.”

You stare down at him. “Jimin. I’m sitting on your half hard cock, trying to apologize, and you’re talking right through it” you chuckle. 

He stops you as you lean in again. He’s serious.

“I mean… I also wanted to tell you," he looks shyly up at you. "You’re the only person I’ve been hooking up with,” he quietly admits. “I don’t want anyone else”

You gulp. Have you been stupidly exclusive this whole time? 

“Same,” you whisper, meeting his excited eyes with your confession. 

“So, then, this- you and me- it’s real?” he asks again with an endearing rouge to his cheeks. 

You look into his hopeful gaze and can’t resist him. 

“Ask me again after you take me out on a real date,” you agree easily as his eyes crinkle with happiness, beaming up at you.

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

The Broken Four

It’s been two years since Paz saw Din last. Two years since Davarax was ripped from them and Din stormed out of the Covert to disappear with the Razor Crest.

There were stories, snippets of information, that made their way back to the Covert so Paz knew he was still alive, but this is the first time in those two long years that he will actually see Din.

When Paz had learned that Din was temporarily located on a nearby planet, the temptation was too strong to resist. He managed to sneak his way out of the Covert, his father is not going to be pleased, and borrowed one of the Covert’s ship.

It had not been difficult to track down Din’s group, but Paz is not pleased with what he finds. Inside the nastiest looking bar filled with the lowest of the low-lives, the mercenaries that Din prefer to his own people are loud and obnoxious as they drink and shout lewd jokes to whomever is unfortunate to listen.

Scanning the room, Paz can’t see Din and he’s considering grabbing one of Din’s group to shake his location out of them, but then the familiar shape appears from one of the back rooms. Din is busy fastening his belt and doesn’t notice Paz walking towards him until he nearly walks into him.

For a second Din just stares at him, clearly surprised, then he draws a sharp breath and pulls his shoulders back in a defensive move. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” Paz replies.

“Congratulations.” Din drawls with sour sarcasm. “You found me.”

Unease turns in Paz’ gut. He’d hoped the years might have let Din’s anger burn itself out a bit, but if anything; he sounds even angrier. “You’re still wearing your helmet.”

“Of course I am.” Din snaps. “I haven’t broken my Creed, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Paz sighs. He doesn’t want to fight. That is not why he came here. “Din…”

“What do you want, Paz?” Din demands to know, as cold and angry as the day he’d left.

“Come home.” Paz asks, uncharacteristically quiet.

“You go home.” Din counters with no small amount of contempt. “I don’t need you to come save me. We’re not kids any more.”

Swallowing hard, refusing the hurt over those words surface inside him, Paz knows Din is nowhere near done with the grief. None of them are. Maybe they’ll never be as long as the murderer goes free and unpunished. “I miss Davarax too...”

In the blink of an eye, Din draws his blaster, shoves it against Paz’ throat and slams him back against the closest wall. “Shut up.” Din snarls.

Paz does nothing to defend himself. Partially because it probably would be futile as Din has a perfect shot at this point, but mostly because he doesn’t want to.

Death doesn’t scare Paz, life is a lot scarier, and as most Mandalorians don’t get to live to old age; Paz figures it would be almost nice to be sent off by the hand of a friend.

Or, someone who used to be your friend. Almost a brother.

“Go. Home.” Din grits out. His blaster doesn’t ease up on the pressure to Paz’ throat. “Get out and don’t come back. Leave me alone. I don’t want to see you again. Do you hear me?”

Feeling numb, Paz nods. He’d known it was a long shot coming here, Din had made no effort to stay in touch with them after he left, but Paz had to try. He had to. Because...

Davarax had always trusted Paz to look after the others whenever he wasn’t around. He probably breathed his last breath thinking that at least Paz would keep the other three safe.

Din withdraws, puts his blaster away and stomps off. He doesn’t look back. His group welcomes him back to their table with loud whoops and more lewd words.

Paz needs a moment to gather himself, swallow down what feels like a lump of barbed wire, then he pushes himself away from the wall and leaves. He leaves the bar and then the planet. He goes home.

There are some hidden scowls and muttered complaints when Paz steps off the ship, but no one dares to really do anything about it as he’s a Vizla. His father will hear about it, though, and Paz knows he won’t be happy. A problem for later as he doesn’t enter the Covert right away.

Paz needs to digest his failure before he can go inside. The only thing worse than feeling lonely is feeling lonely while being surrounded by people, and his failure has left him unable to handle that right now.

He ends up sitting on the roof of a tall building, a place where he can take off his helmet and breathe the fresh air for a bit. Paz ruffles his hair back to life after the helmet flattening it. He swallows again, not sure why that bundle of pain in his throat refuses to go away.

Despite the anger and hostility Din had shown him, Paz can’t help but to feel how much he misses him. And the others.

Shortly after Davarax died, Barthor married Kaleo and the two of them more or less withdrew from the presence of Paz and Raga. It hurt but Paz could have been okay with it, it was Barthor’s choice after all, if not for how Barthor became more and more reclusive until he refused to leave the Covert all together, even for the briefest of missions. That worries Paz.

As for Raga, Paz swallows again, she keeps pushing herself to become stronger and deadlier, at any cost. Her currently broken arm is a too visible reminder of that. And she seems to have decided not to trust anyone who isn’t Paz, which is why most of her relationships die a messy death and hardens her heart a little more every time. Her temper goes from loud and volatile to quiet and deadly.

The Fearsome Four are broken.

Paz lowers his head and shivers. “I’m sorry…” He whispers, knowing Davarax cannot hear him and yet needing to tell him. “I know it was my job to look after them. I’ve failed. You trusted me and I let you down.” He shuts his eyes tight and shivers again. “I’m really sorry, Davarax.”

A drop falls to the ground. Then another.

Paz opens his eyes and he lifts his hand to touch his face. Is he crying?

No. He looks up and the next raindrop lands on his cheekbone and trails down his skin.

The sky is crying.

A soft breeze slides by and almost feels like a warm hand cupping the side of his face.

Paz exhales, closes his eyes again, savours the feeling and lets another raindrop run down his face.

He better get inside. Raga won’t be happy that he just disappeared like that and he needs to check up on that arm of hers. And while Barthor might have his own life now, Paz still needs to make sure he’s doing okay. Kaleo is pretty helpful with that, thank Mandalore.

Opening his eyes, Paz gets up on his feet and dries what he decides are all raindrops from his face before putting his helmet on. He heads for the Covert.

As for Din…

Paz may not believe it, but he does hope. He hopes that one day his brother will emerge from his darkness and find his way back home to them. 

And if he does, they will be there for him.

[radiantroope]

Heart of Gold || Rafe Cameron

pairing: rafe x reader

requested: no

summary: your mental health is slipping and your boyfriend will do anything to help you.

warnings: swearing, depression, implied suicidal thoughts, mentions of drug use/abuse, fluff; if any of these are triggering please read with caution

word count: 1.6k+

author’s note:  rafe is not a murderer in this fic. i love non-canon rafe. i wrote this as a vent the other day when i was having a hard time. i’m good now though<3 also, i suck at summaries so i’m sorry.

masterlist | add yourself to my tag list

You felt numb. Completely and utterly numb. The hollow feeling in your chest only felt to grow with each hour. The soft fabric of your pale yellow duvet cocooned you in the bed you wished to never leave. You stared blankly at the wall in front of you.

You stopped crying hours ago. Remnants of tears stained your flushed cheeks. The tip of your nose had turned a rosy color and your eyes that were once so full of life were puffy and bloodshot. Your arms tightened around your legs as the daunting thoughts loomed inside of your head.

Rafe Cameron was no stranger to your inner demons. He had his own as well and that’s what brought you two together. Shared traumas of being berated for everything you did. Feeling unaccomplished no matter what you did. Feeling unloved by the very people who were supposed to take care of you the moment you took your first breath.

Rafe knew you needed your space sometimes. He knew you had to work out your thoughts and emotions on your own and he was okay with that. You had it way harder than he did, being a Pogue — someone he never could have imagined falling so hard for. Though, when he hadn’t heard from you in three days, he started to grow worried. He sent you a good morning text, an “I love you” text in the afternoon, and a goodnight text before he went to bed each day. Despite the state you were in, he always got a reply. When this time he didn’t, his mind went into overdrive.

The Kook knew your parents spent all day on the mainland every Wednesday so he hopped in his truck and made his way to the South side of the island. He just needed to see you and make sure you were okay. He knew the longer you isolated yourself, the darker the thoughts in your head would get. He wasn’t going to risk you doing something stupid in a moment of weakness like he’d done before.

“I don’t know what else you want from me dad! I try so damn hard, but nothing is good enough for you!” you shouted at your father from the other side of the living room.

This had been going on for almost two hours. For a while, you sat in silence as your father called you every name in the book. He told you how he raised you better than this. He compared you to your older sister who had gotten a full ride scholarship to Julliard. You barely skimmed the surface in school. Not seeing the point since it was rare for anyone to actually make it out of The Cut.

“I want you to do better. I want you to stop treating this house like a god damn hotel! You come here to eat our food, use our shit, and sleep one night a week! You may as well move the fuck out at this point!” your father’s voice got louder with each sentence, face turning red in rage. “Go move in with your perfect little Kook boyfriend in his big perfect house and mooch off him! You’re worthless, Y/N! I’ve lost all the faith I had in you.”

The fight happened three days ago, but you couldn’t get your father’s words out of your head. They kept spinning there, along with every other hurtful thing he’d said from the moment you turned sixteen.

You’re worthless. You’re lazy. You’re stupid. You can’t do anything right. Who would ever love you?

You didn’t hear the front door or the footsteps walking down the hall. You didn’t hear your bedroom door open and gently shut seconds later. The voices in your head were far too loud.

Rafe’s heart dropped at the sight of you curled under the blanket. Your knotted hair was splayed out on the pillows. He almost couldn’t even see the rise and fall of the blanket due to your shallow breathing. He walked around the bed and let out a soft breath. The emotionless expression on your otherwise beautiful face caused a tightness in his chest.

The blue eyed boy crouched down by your head and gently brushed your hair away from your eyes. He watched your eyelids flutter and your gazes met. It was like you were looking through him, a sad smile spreading across his lips. He whispered, “Hi, sugar.”

As your brain registered your boyfriend was the person in front you, the floodgates in your eyes reopened. A small cry left your lips as you released your legs and reached out of the covers for the boy. He didn’t hesitate to climb straight into the bed with you. His muscular arms enveloped you, pulling you tightly into his chest. You couldn’t control the sobs that wracked your body.

“Oh, baby,” Rafe breathed, feeling tears burn in his own eyes. Seeing you in such a state was never easy and he had trouble keeping his own emotions at bay.

He buried his nose in your hair and closed his eyes. One of his large hands rubbed up and down your spine, trying to consol you. He quietly cooed, “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

The sandy haired boy held you in his embrace until your harsh sobs turned into small whimpers. You sniffled every so often and your body still trembled against him. He brought one of his hands up to your hair and worked his large fingers through the knots. He knew you probably needed a good shower but he was going to wait until you’d calmed some more before he moved you. He placed a soft kiss to your forehead right at your hairline, causing you to look up at him.

“Why do you love me, Rafe?” your voice was barely even a whisper. He definitely wouldn’t have heard you if you weren’t pressed chest to chest. “I can’t do anything right. I’m a waste of space. You deserve someone better.”

A deep frown pulled at the Cameron boy’s face. He knew you were only saying it because your parents had embedded it in you. They’d said things like that to you so many times that you started to believe them. He always did everything in his power to remind you that you were incredible and so loved — even if it was only by him.

Rafe brought his hand up and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing down the flushed skin and over your jaw. His tone was stern but his voice was soft as he said, “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“I love you because you’re a strong woman with a heart of gold. You go through hell and still wear a smile on your face to everyone on this island. You go out of your way to help people when they need it, even if you get nothing in return. You defend your friends and I even when we don’t deserve it.”

The Kook’s heart leapt when he saw the corners of your mouth twitch. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. His bright, ocean blue eyes stared into yours with complete adoration.

“Remember when I was an addict?”

How could you forget? It was two years ago, early in your relationship when you learned of his addiction. You remember every sleepless night staying up making sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit when he was going through withdrawals. You remember having to help him shower when he was too weak to stand on his own. You remember having to change the sheets once a day when they were covered in his sweat. You remember taking the angry outbursts when he desperately wanted a fix and couldn’t get it.

You remember the three times he relapsed and you had to start the process all over again.

You remember the one time he overdosed — and you almost lost him forever. That’s when he finally realized he was killing himself and checked into a rehabilitation center. Topper and Kelce cleaned up their acts along with him. None of them wanted to die over an overpriced white powder that gave them a temporary high to numb their pain.

“You visited me everyday in rehab, even when I gave you every chance to walk away. You never gave up on me,” Rafe’s thumb made its way back up your cheek and over the protruding bone. “I’m not giving up on you, baby. I will spend everyday, for the rest of my life, reminding you that you deserve the world. That you are smart, beautiful and the absolute love of my life.”

Your lips turned up in a smile. It wasn’t a big one, but it was something, and Rafe had never been so happy to see it. He tilted his head down and captured your lips in a sweet kiss. Your hands that had been gripping the front of his polo slid around his back. When he pulled away, you rested your head on his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart.

“Move in with me,” Rafe said after a moment of silence.

Your head lifted immediately, nearly knocking his chin as you stared wide eyed at him. He chuckled at your shocked expression and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“I’ve got some money put away. We can get an apartment and it’ll cover a few months. We can get jobs and I’ll go to school,” Rafe’s fingers trailed over your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “What do you say, princess? Wanna start our own life?”

You couldn’t stop the grin that enveloped your face as you thought about what he was suggesting. You wouldn’t have to be criticized by your parents anymore. You’d be free to do whatever you wanted with your life, and you’d have the man of your dreams by your side. So you nodded, bending in and pressing your lips to Rafe’s passionately.

“Let’s do it, baby,” you whispered against his lips, squealing softly as he pulled you on top of him and attacked your face with kisses. 

tag list (strike through means it wouldn’t let me tag you): @queenk00k @jjsmentalpolaroids @ims0golden @jjmaybcnks @sortagaysortahigh @jjmbanks @letsgofullkook @scandalousfemale @drewswannabegirl @ilovejjmaybank @allielozoya @x-lulu @oldschoolimagineblog @teenwaywardasgardian @pheyward let me know if you want to be removed

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

IM BACK! here’s a quick little piece I wrote yesterday! we love a good dad!harry hehe

wc: 2492

tw: mentions of anxiety, anxiety.

masterlist

Parenting was definitely hard.

Besides the happiness and joy a child can bring into people’s lives, it was definitely hard. It was like a job; like work. Being a mother was tough. Having been one for only three months, you’re still going through the withdrawals of the pregnancy. The body aches that went straight to your bones and muscles from carrying a whole baby inside of you for 9 months. Not to mention the lack of sleep.

The word ‘lack’ and ‘sleep’ in the same sentence made you want to cry.

It’s been obvious that you haven’t gotten any sleep, especially during the pregnancy. When your baby began peeking through your belly, you had to make some new adjustments to your sleeping positions. Your normal sleep position that lulled you to sleep was laying on your stomach, but for obvious reasons, you couldn’t do that anymore. Laying on your side was your second favorite position, so it had done well enough.

But there were some nights where you would lie awake until 3 a.m, hoping to get an ounce of sleep. You envied your husband and his ability to sleep so quickly, and whenever and wherever.

You just wanted sleep.

Now that your little love is three months old, you somewhat finally got time to catch up on your sleep. Of course, with the help of Harry.

He’s been by your side and supporting you ever since, and your heart was so full of love for him and your baby. He endure the whining that came from your mouth, the anger in your eyes when you were annoyed when something didn’t go your way, or annoying look on your face when he came too close when you wanted some space, but minutes later, you would waddle over to him and ask for some cuddles, saying your sorry.

Not only did you go through things physically and emotionally, Harry did as well. He put up with you, that’s for sure.

Now with Harry being the best husband and father there is, whenever your little love woke up in the middle of the night crying her eyes out, needing a nappy change or some food or cuddles, Harry would take care of it. You would slightly wake up, peeking your head up and ready to get out of bed, but Harry was already up and out of bed, telling you to sleep. And you sleepily smiled back at him and plopped your head back on the pillow.

But you had felt bad. You wanted Harry to earn some sleep as well, and you didn’t want him doing all the work. He would tell you that it is 100% okay and that you deserved some rest as well, knowing that you haven’t been able to sleep for practically a whole entire year.

So at dinner, you told Harry how you felt.

“Harry?”

“Yes?” He says in his baby voice as he was feeding the little love.

“I feel bad.” You say nervously. He looks up from his baby and puts his focus on you.

“What do you feel bad for, baby?” You sigh, putting down your fork.

“I feel bad because…” you trail off, nervous you’re going to sound stupid.

“Hey,” he reaches for your hand to hold it, stroking your soft hand with his thumb, “you can tell me anything, you know that right? Anything you say isn’t stupid.” He says as if he’s read your mind.

“It’s just that… I feel bad because you’re always waking up in the middle of the night to take care of our little love. And before you say it’s okay and that I deserve some rest, it’s not okay to me. You deserve some sleep too, and I can’t have you doing all the work.” You look at him with glossy eyes, not knowing why you’re about to cry. Damn hormones making you feel all crazy.

Harry looks at you intently and he sees your watery eyes. He knows well that when you express yourself, you truly mean every word of it. So, he knows not to argue and instead nods his head in agreement, although he disagrees with you. “Okay, what do you want to do? Limit my wakings?” He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses it gently. Your little love is looking up at her father, probably wondering why he stopped feeding.

“How about for tonight, I get this little munchkin when she cries? I’ll put the baby monitor on my side and I’ll put it softly so only I’ll be able to hear it.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want then okay.” You smile at him appreciatively.

“Thank you, Harry.” This time, you’re being his hand to your lips, kissing his skin softly.

“Of course, my love.” He squeezes your hand and continues feeding the little one.

You and Harry settled in bed, cuddling one another and kissing each other’s skin innocently saying goodnight to each other in the pecks of the lips; something that helped drift you two to sleep sometimes. And luckily, it was one of those nights.

During the night, you and Harry had found a way to untangle from each other, leading to sleeping on opposite sides while not holding one another in each other’s arms.

Harry was sleeping on his side and you on yours, and it was the soft crackle from the baby monitor that started, but it didn’t seem enough to wake you up. You had placed the baby monitor in the space between the bedside table and the bed, resting the monitor on the frame. You had turned it down to a low medium volume so only you would be able to hear it, not Harry. But it still wasn’t enough to wake you up.

The only time you opened your eyes was when soft light was creeping through the blinds and you looked at the time that read 6:05 a.m, and you lazily smiled, thinking that your little love had slept through the whole night.

You turn to face Harry, only to find the bed empty. Sheets wrinkled and the blanket pushed off. You place your hand on his pillow and his side of the bed, not wanting to get up just yet, finding it cold, meaning that he’d been up for a while. With your brows furrowed, you get out of bed and put on your silk robe, walking towards your baby’s room to find Harry in the comfortable loveseat with the little munchkin in his arms, both of them asleep. With confused thoughts, you gently tap him, causing him to easily stir and wake up.

“Morning.” He says groggily. You lean down to place a kiss on his head and one to your daughter.

“Hey. How long have you been up?” You ask curiously.

“Since 3.” Your eyes widen and step back a little to look at him to see if he’s joking with you.

“W-What?”

“Yeah.” His face remains neutral and you don’t know if he’s not mind or he’s really good at hiding it.

“Baby…”

“It’s fine.” He brushes off.

“No, it’s not! The baby monitor was next to me and I still didn’t hear it!” Tears sting your eyes, not believing you did this. “I mean, did you hear the monitor?”

“No, but this one was crying for, what I’m guessing, a while so she progressively got louder and louder, and she’s coming down with something.” He says honestly, and it’s not to make you feel bad, it’s the truth. But you can’t help but feel horrible.

The little love was asleep and comfortable in his arms, and you walked back to yours and Harry’s room before sobbing. Tears littered your face and you couldn’t seem to stop. You climb in bed and pull the covers all the way up to your chin, feeling like it’s the only thing that can comfort you.

So many thoughts swirl your mind as the tears keep coming and the muffled sobs don’t stop. Harry walks back into the room and finds you facing away from him on your side. He can see your body shaking and his eyes soften. He was angry at you minutes prior, he was just so exhausted that he didn’t mean to be so short with you.

Harry climbs in bed and scoots to your side, pressing his chest against your back, and wraps his arms around your shaking frame. He kisses your shoulder and the back of your neck, hoping it’ll bring you comfort and your cries die down. Harry doesn’t say anything and holds you for a few minutes.

Once your sobbing was coming to an end and your breathing was controlled, he’d thought you fell asleep, and that hurt him knowing that you cried yourself to sleep, but you turned your body in his hold to face him.

Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks damped, and there was probably snot coming out of your nose. You knew all of this and thought it was the most unattractive thing Harry had laid his eyes on, but he can’t help to love you even more.

You both look at each other for a minute, studying each other’s expression, and not knowing who’s going to say the first word.

“I’m sorry.” You start and put your forehead on his chest, not wanting to look him in the eye as you felt so embarrassed.

“Why’re you sorry?” Harry genuinely asks.

“I’m such a horrible mother.” You say as you breathe deeply, not wanting to have another breakdown because honestly, your eyes are tired from it.

“Nonsense-” Harry is quick to say, but you interrupt him.

“I’ve failed our little love and I failed you. I wanted you to get more sleep and not do all the work, and the one time you agree, I don’t wake up! And she was in his crib for god knows how long, crying her little heart out because she needed me, anyone to comfort her and cuddle her, and I couldn’t do that!” Another set of tears had slid down your face and on Harry’s chest. He holds you tighter, rubbing his hand down your back. He wanted to say something so bad, but he knew that you needed to vent and let it all out, so once you’re done, he’ll jump in and disagree with you.

“I’m so fucking selfish that I didn’t even think about how deep of a sleeper I am. I’ve always been ever since I was younger too; I slept through an earthquake, thunderstorms, and I didn’t wake up. If I had just thought to put the volume louder in case I didn’t hear her wailing then you could’ve gotten to her and taken care of her sooner, and then she wouldn’t feel like I’ve abandoned her. You’ve been taking care of her so much that you had to feed her formula instead of me breastfeeding her because I can’t get up for shit because I’m too tired, and now she’s getting sick because of me!” It was like your last statement was a realization on how and why she’s getting sick, you’re shaking in his arms, feeling like a horrible person. Your hands claw at his naked skin, needing something to grasp on.

Now she’s just driving herself insane and overthinking, he thinks. But he understands that your anxiety can drive you up the wall sometimes (or most times), and he through the years, he learned to hold you through it all and not to talk until you’re done because if he talks, then it’ll only get worse. It had happened twice in the early stage of your relationship when he didn’t know what to do.

“I’m such a fail for a mother that I couldn’t do a simple task like wake up, but instead I was just thinking about myself and how I don’t want our baby to despise me right now or ever. Like who does that!” You bury your face in his neck, latching onto his shoulders to bring him closer than possible.

Harry thinks you’re done speaking when you’ve just laid in his arms in silence, trying to control your breathing again as he whispers a string of ‘shh’ in your ear.

For what seems like forever, you pull back, and Harry looks down at you. You don’t say a word because you’ve ran out of things to say and you really don’t want to talk anymore.

“Lovie, listen to me, okay? I want you to hear every word I have to say.” You only nod and usually Harry would want a vocal validation like he does in bed, but he knows you’re all of words. “Nothing about you is a failure. You’ve had a tough year carrying our baby, not getting any sleep, and dealing with the hormones. I don’t blame you for anything at all if you want to get some sleep. I know you’re a deep sleeper, we’ve been together for years and you don’t think I know?” He says the last part teasingly. “I should’ve had a monitor on my side too, so I’m to blame.”

You shake your head, disagreeing with his last statement. Harry continues on, “that little baby is okay, and she loves you so much. I love you so much. Lovie, we’ve only been parents for 3 months and we’ve got so much to learn. We’ve got our whole lives to learn how to take care of her. But that does not mean that one simple mistake means you’re a failure at parenthood. It doesn’t work like that. You’re the best mother I could ever ask for to carry my children, you carried her and protected her for 9 months; fuck, you’re already the strongest person ever. Even if you weren’t pregnant, I’d say you’re the strongest. Understand me?” You nod your head and pull him in for a tight hug.

“Don’t doubt yourself or sell yourself short, okay?” He says with his lips to your head as if he wants to engrave those words into your brain.

“O-Okay.” You say softly against his chest as if you’re reassuring his heart that you’re okay.

“I love you, you know that right?”

“I do. I love you more, you know that right?”

“I do.”

He understands why so you’re upset, why you’re crying so much. Why you probably think you’re the most unattractive thing at the moment with your face being a mess with snot dripping down. But he still thinks you’re the most beautiful and strongest woman there is, inside and out. And he couldn’t help but love you even more.

The two of you lay there, wrapped around each other’s warmth, bringing you both the comfort and reassurance you two need. You both drift off to sleep, taking a quick nap before one of you hears the crackle from the monitor to take care of your little love.

talk to me!

[airi-p4]

From above the stars - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |  Chapter 7 | …

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I'm sorry this took so long... I've been struggling at trying to make everything as realist as a I could, but then I thought: you know what? this is fiction! Whatever!

Thank you for your patience >_<

Chapter summary:

Marinette goes to meet Gabriel Agreste, only to be reminded of the kind of person he is.

AO3

_____________________________________________________

CHAPTER 5

Since Marinette recovered her senses at the hospital and her new life- a life without Adrien- started, it hadn't been easy for her to find a reason to wake up in the morning. Getting out of bed just to grieve her late boyfriend was something she hated. What Luka said about Adrien hurt her too, but she couldn't stop thinking about them. His words and his songs were what kept her alive when she had considered joining her boyfriend. ' Don't give up ', Luka had told her ‘ Live ’. And that became her sole mission in life.

It surprised her when an SMS arrived on her phone that morning- a device she hadn't touched since before the accident. She reached it, and it surprised her how her fingers remembered the lock screen code. She read the message showing on the screen:

" Miss Dupain-Cheng, I would appreciate it if you visited me this afternoon at the Agreste mansion. I'll be waiting for you. G.A."

Adrien's father… It was a privilege to be summoned by Gabriel Agreste. He never invited anyone over to his house. And even if Marinette felt that she would only be a nuisance for him, she knew she couldn't reject the invitation.

Marinette got ready to leave for the Agreste mansion. She wore a black dress with a black scarf, and a black ribbon tying her hair. Her bag and shoes complemented the look with the same color: all black- like a widow.

Gabriel received Marinette with his back facing her, as usual. But there was something different within the whole aura of the house: colder and lonelier. When the door closed, Gabriel turned and spoke to her.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Dupain-Cheng"

"Thank you for having me, Mister Agreste"

"Call me Gabriel", he said, and Marinette nodded shyly. "You may be wondering why I summoned you here… Well. My wife and my son are dead. I'm alone and I keep wondering why this had to happen… Nobody understands how I feel… Except you. I know how much Adrien appreciated you, and you're one of the few people that keep going to visit the cemetery, the only one that keeps going daily . I want to thank you for bringing happiness to my son until his very end"

"No- Mister I- I'm at fault too! I should have stopped him! I miss him so much…"

Marinette broke into a cry, something she wouldn't have imagined to do in front of Gabriel Agreste. Back in the days she was with Adrien, he constantly looked at her with cold judging eyes. Now, those eyes were different. Still cold, but with deep pain in his heart.

Marinette wasn't sure if she was dreaming: it was hard for her to believe Gabriel Agreste was hugging her and crying with her in comfort- like the father figure he never was for his son.

"Thank you for loving my son"

His words only made her feel even worse and lonelier. "I'm so sorry..." she repeated.

"It's not your fault, Miss…" he reassured, only to unleash a storm with his next words. "It's all those women’s fault, the ones on the other car! Why would they be there at that time of the night? They got in Adrien's way! If only they hadn't been there, Adrien would still be with us!"

Marinette gasped in horror at his words. His grip was getting stronger, even hurting her, but she was glad her pale face couldn't be seen from that position. She felt like she wanted to throw up at his words.

‘How could he blame Luka's sisters for the accident, when Luka was suffering so much? ’

She felt about to cry in sadness for the Couffaine's family, clearly understanding Luka's dislike towards Adrien's father. But he continued.

"It's those women’s fault, so don't blame yourself for it. The trial will favor me and clean our reputation, I'm sure of it."

"Trial…?" Marinette gasped at the idea of being called in court and having to recall everything once again. He ignored her question.

"You did well surviving. You're the last thing my son left here… I'd be delighted to have you visiting me from time to time, just like you visit my son"

"Thank you, Mister Agreste. I sincerely appreciate your offer", she said putting an act Gabriel didn't seem to tell apart.

"Farewell. Until next time"

____________________________________________

When Marinette arrived home she felt sick.

Gabriel Agreste being a horrible father wasn't new, but failing to accept reality and blaming two innocent victims for an unfortunate accident? It was too much. And it hurt her deeply to think of how Luka and his mother would feel if they heard Mister Agreste say that. She had hated it, so it was only natural they would hate it even more.

A trial… Did Luka know about it? She was scared to ask . She didn’t want him to suffer any more.

_________________________________________

The next day, she returned to the cemetery after skipping a visit for the first time since she was released from the hospital some weeks ago. Like every day, she bought flowers for three: Adrien, Juleka, and Rose. Everyday, she would go to Adrien's first, and spend some time telling him how she was doing, and then, go to the Couffaines’. Whenever they coincided there, they would always exchange greetings, she would listen to Luka's music- his way to express his feelings to his sisters- and talk a bit.

That certain day felt different. Seeing Luka smiling at her made her heart squeeze at being reminded of Gabriel's words. She felt like his accomplice and it felt horrible.

Luka noticed instantly something was off. "What's wrong? Something bad happened?" He asked.

"No. I mean- I-"

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. You just look conflicted inside your heart. I was trying to help"

The calm and sympathetic smile on Luka's lips made her heart skip a beat, both in gratitude and regret for hiding what she knew. Ever since the accident, she had found in Luka an escape to release her fears, doubts, and pain. He was healing her soul and she… She was starting to feel better. She was starting to wish they could become closer. He had become someone very special to her in a short time. Someone she could empathize with.

Feeling how she felt towards him, Marinette couldn't hide certain information. "I went to visit Gabriel Agreste", she finally said.

"Oh. I see. It's logical. You're his son's girlfriend", he commented.

"No. That's not what worries me. He-" she bit her lip, hesitant. When Luka's eyes met hers, she lost half of her courage. She couldn't tell him everything- especially not what Gabriel said about his sisters. "He told me about a trial"

"Oh… I see…" Luka's expression turned sad.

"You knew?"

"Yes. It's partly my mother's doing. She has a strong sense of justice and she favors revenge when it fails. But knowing the justice and trials ' slow timings, I don't think it would start soon, probably not even this year", he strummed his guitar strings, mostly to calm himself down.

"Oh… I see…", she whispered, sad, and Luka didn’t fail to read her feelings.

"I'm sorry you'll have to go through remembering all that again… I tried to stop my mother, but she's very stubborn... I hope she withdraws the accusations. No one can bring my sisters back, anyway..."

"Yes…” she whimpered. ”Thank you for trying, Luka. It means a lot to me"

"I hope everything turns out well”, Luka said. He was sympathetic and hated to see people sad- especially people he cared about, like Marinette. “I have to go now. See you, Marinette"

Marinette hesitated a little, but she sympathized with him, thankful for his presence in her life. ”Ok… Thank you, Luka. Our meetings are the best thing of the day", she smiled, and he smiled back at her, tenderly.

“Mine too, Marinette. Mine too”.

Marinette blushed while Luka walked away and waved at her before disappearing through the cemetery main gate. The way her heart was throbbing whenever she was close to him was making her feel guilty. She was aware Luka had already an irreplaceable place in her heart and, maybe, the thoughts of him started occupying her mind more than Adrien’s. She felt horrible for failing her soulmate only a few months after his passing, but she was starting to take a step further and looking forward to living again. And feelings were something that escaped her control.

As she thought about Luka, she recalled something important: with no way to contact each other, their meetings could stop anytime. She suddenly felt scared. What would she do if he disappeared from her life too, like Adrien? She didn’t want to lose him.

[neonbutchery]

(150) prompts list: [FLUFF] #47 for... well, anyone! But maybe for your Shepard and Samara even though they both know they're not going to run away.

ANON... sorry for getting to you so late but i got carried away with this :') i still hope you like it!

cw for explicit descriptions of sensory overload and ableism (just in passing). shepard's autistic in this one because... i said so. and she adopted urz. thank you to @dr-ladybird for beta-ing!

you can also read this on ao3!

----------

Shepard needs a break. From the other side of the door she can hear the bass, thumping, and she wonders who’s currently in charge of the music. When she had left the party, Jack had been the one making the playlist—and judging by the song that’s playing, she’s still the one in charge. Everyone was having fun, dancing and drinking.

Except her.

It was all too overwhelming. The yelling, the loud music, the crowd that had gathered around her and made her feel like she had no personal space whatsoever. The very specific details she somehow remembers: the wine stain on Tali’s hood and the emergency induction port tossed on the table, the empty sushi trays, the bright lights flashing. Suddenly, her chest had been too tight and she was breathing rapidly; and she needed to get out of there.

It has happened before. It has always fucking happened before at the most inappropiate moment, and it has happened now, when she was supposed to be enjoying herself with her friends. Instead, she’s alone, in the small terrace of her apartment that looks out to a shitty alleywall, and she doesn’t know whether to cry, laugh, or keep berating herself like she always does. For a while, she thought she had it under control: she could function relatively normally in public and avoid attacks like this one. She’s able to keep calm when there are literal giant death machines invading the galaxy and killing millions every day, but it’s a party of all things that has caused an anxiety attack.

Dammit. She’s been living with sensory overload ever since she was a teenager. When she was an Alliance recruit living in noisy barracks, she used earplugs so she could fall asleep. When they were on the hunt for Saren, she spent the aftermath of the missions in her cabin, wrapped under the blankets and listening to music so she’d calm herself down. Some understood: she had confided in Kaidan before when she realized they both had similar problems. Some needed time to come around it, like when she came back from the dead under Cerberus patronage and after inventing a dozen of different excuses, she had to finally tell Miranda why she needed to be alone so often.

But now the words don't come out of her mouth. She dreads coming back to the living room and inevitably having to explain why she was missing, and the cold air of the night is better than losing control of her emotions and having to withdraw again. Shepard still feels guilty. All those people are there for her. They are her friends, some dating back to three years ago, and they abandoned their posts to spend a last night together. A night she wanted to spend dancing and laughing, not dealing with overload.

She leans back against the railing and pulls out a pen from her pocket. She had stolen it from Anderson’s office back in 2183, and has kept it on her ever since. Her finger lingers on the button at the end of the object and she starts clicking it again and again, closing her eyes. It helps keep her hands occupied and focus her mind on something else, and the rhythmic pattern of the sound is calming. Breathing in and out, remembering what a therapist had told her, Shepard tries to collect herself as she continues fidgeting.

“Shepard. Are you okay?”

She’s startled by the door opening and Samara’s voice. The asari is standing there, with a worried look on her usually inexpressive face, and Shepard guesses she knows what’s happening.

“I…”

“Do you need to be alone?”

The commander nods and Samara disappears once again, leaving Shepard on the terrace. She can’t help but feel bad about it, even though Samara knows about the fact that she needs space and is okay with it. Shepard first told her about it in one of their chats at the observation deck in the Normandy, back when they weren’t as close as they are now—but even then, she trusted her. And now, where the two are… Well, Shepard doesn’t know if they’re a thing or not, but they spent the other afternoon making out on her couch. That’s self-explanatory.

A few minutes pass and Samara returns with a glass of water, handing it to Shepard. “Drink,” she says, and Shepard does so, almost emptying it. The liquid running down her throat is refreshing and needed.

“Did you get overwhelmed?” Samara wraps an arm around Shepard’s hip and raises an eyebrow, asking if it’s okay.

“Mhm,” Shepard replies, leaning into the touch. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Samara's right: she shouldn’t demand forgiveness for something she can’t control. But she’s so used to being told she's bothering someone with her tantrums that hearing otherwise sounds weird, yet comforting.

“Yeah,” she answers, and it's the only thing she can bring herself to say. Shepard's exhausted, it's late, and while she promised herself she’d be rejoining the party, her body says otherwise. For a moment she closes her eyes and reclines into Samara’s chest, her lips curling up in a smile. The thoughts racing in her head have stopped for a brief second and she breathes, feeling the stress disappear.

She’ll come back later. For now, she’s happy, enjoying a peace she hasn’t enjoyed in a while.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“You are always thinking, Shepard.”

“I need something to keep myself entertained when I’m not impaling husks with an omni-blade,” she replies. It’s true. Sometimes, restlessness creeps up and she needs some sort of stimuli. “Funny, coming from the person who spent her free time in the Normandy meditating in front of the void.”

That gets a chuckle out of Samara, and Shepard can’t help but feel proud of making her laugh. It took a while—a lot of conversations, a trip to Omega and a hunt for a killer, and then, a reunion in Lessuss among rubble and Reaper forces, but now, she’s starting to see the person Samara truly is—someone just like her. There are too many uncertainties in the air: the invasion, Cerberus, and their own personal problems (the daughters that Samara will eventually have to bury and the broken galaxy Shepard will have to piece together); and yet, Shepard is starting to think about the fact that Samara is who she wants to spend the rest of her life—no matter how short—with.

“We could run away together. Just you and I. After the war.”

The Justicar stays silent. Shepard guesses she’s about to say something about duty, or the Code, or how they were meant to be together in another life, but not this one. But she doesn’t.

“Well, not us alone. Falere can come along if you want. And Grunt. And Urz*. If you aren’t allergic to the whole varren thing.”

Shepard nearly goes on another tangent before she bites her tongue and shuts up, silence filling the empty space again. She doesn’t want to annoy Samara more than she already has with her mad ideas.

“That sounds nice,” Samara answers. Shepard doesn’t know whether it’s the melancholy of the moment or the very small chance that she truly thinks that, but hearing her say that is comforting.

Maybe one day it will happen. Maybe they will spend the rest of their days together after this whole ordeal and live somewhere quiet. Shepard doesn’t care where: as long as Samara’s by her side, she would follow her anywhere.

Even if it’s a small terrace in the Silversun Strip, soaked by the neon signs and skycar lights, and leading to a living room where the unsung heroes of the galaxy are enjoying what might be the last party of their lives.

[haunted-by-catholic-guilt]

Bleed Her Out Before I Wake

Hey! This is pretty heavy on drug use and a very temporary character death in form of flatling.

TW FOR SEMI GRAPHIC VOMITING, DRUG USE, LACED DRUGS, IMPLIED SELF HARM, DISORDERED EATING DUE TO STRESS, VOMITING BLOOD

Ft- Jet and Rita QPR, Vespa being soft, and Peter with EDS, its not important to the fic but it is important to me.

title from Heroin by Badflower

“Mista Steel?”

She stood at a cracked doorway in the Carte Blanche, the light was on in the bathroom but other than that it was complete darkness around her.

In the eerily lit bathroom, was her ex-boss and long-time friend, retching into the toilet for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Go ‘way Rita- Don- Don’t wanna see this”

She sighed, it had been a bad day for all of them, involving Sola at a party he was undercover at a party with Peter, the subsequent drug-taking that occurred there so they wouldn't seem suspicious.

As soon as Rita got word on what happened, which unfortunately happened after the heist, all hell broke loose.

Buddy immediately pulled them out of the heist, despite Juno’s protests, saying he felt fine despite the fear in his voice and his shaking body.

Peter absolutely did not agree with his girlfriend, his facade almost cracking as he dragged them out of their, Jet waited in the Ruby 7 outside, his hands were holding the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

By the time they got to the car alone, Juno mumbled something about feeling dizzy, and his breathing was off, hitching at each inhale.

As soon as they got to the ship, Juno pushed away from the others, into his room.

No matter who told him to, he refused to come out of his room.

Rita knew Mista Steel needed his privacy, she remembers the first withdrawal he went through with her, she doesn’t know if it was sola, alcohol, or something else though, he was too out of it to tell her.

In their time together, the lady had spent days in her apartment, vomiting and crying and shaking, at one point even being sent into a seizure because of the withdrawal.

This felt different.

It had been years since he’d taken anything, and he didn’t look like he used to after taking something, what was once something that brought him… joy almost, now made him look scared and tired.

“Mista Steel I’ve seen you worse, but I gotta come in, you’ve been alone for hours and I’m gettin worried.”

He groaned before mumbling a quiet ‘come in’.

The sight she saw was not a pretty one.

He was slumped against the wall, his skin was shining with sweat, and he had taken his top off at some point, revealing many scars, some newer, and his makeup was running off.

“Told you it wasn’t pretty.”

Rita shrugged before sitting next to him on the floor, they would need to talk, about what happened, but Mista Still just looked so… tired.

“Drink some water, boss”

She handed him the cup, or tried to, his hands were shaking too much to grab it, so, she helped steady his hands, holding the glass gently to his lips.

“Sorry about this, know I fucked up.”

He wasn’t wrong but also wasn’t right, she simply sighed and set the glass down.

“Alright, come here”

He looked tired, she was too, but he almost immediately slumped against her, seeking out comfort from the past.

It didn’t take him long to start crying.

She ran her hand through his sweat-soaked curls.

“I didn’t wanna- I didn’t- Rita I-“

He was shaking so hard in her arms, someone else was standing outside the bathroom, Ransom, she suspects.

“I know Mista Steel, I know”

His breathing was rough, he swallowed and a wet click came from his throat, he whimpered, curling into Rita.

“Are you gonna be sick again?”

He shook his head, but Rita gently maneuvered him anyway, leaning over the toilet.

He gagged, harsh and painful, nothing coming up except bile, he had been puking all day, nothing to eat or drink.

“Hurts- it- it hurts so much Rita”

She felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces, holding him up and rubbing his back, he was too weak to hold himself up.

“It’s gonna be okay, boss”

She wasn’t sure anymore.

And she really wasn’t when Juno started to cry out in more pain and the dry heaving stopped.

Because now, she was pretty sure he was puking up blood.

She tried to hide the panic in her voice as she called out.

“Uhhh Mista Ransom I know you’re outside the door and I really need you to grab Miss Vespa ‘cause Mista Steel is puking up blood and I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.

You could hear his heart drop.

Within minutes, Peter was back with the medic, even scarier, she wasn’t complaining and Rita was also distantly aware of Jet standing behind her.

Vespa burst through the door, and knelt down in the open area around Mista Steel.

“Damnit Steel”

She motioned for Jet to grab him, but Juno started to squirm and try to escape the people surrounding him.

“Nno fine- ‘m fine”

Vespa growled, but Jet managed to move her out of the way and kneel in front of Juno himself.

“Juno, I know you do not wish to let us help you, but you are very ill, for reasons that are not your fault, and it would help us all if you would please come with us.”

Jets voice and words calmed him down, and he let himself be picked up by Jet.

Jet walked swiftly to the medbay, careful not to jostle him while they walked, Rita considered distantly the protectiveness Jet had of the boss, wondering where it came from, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

“J-Jet lemme down- gon’ be sick”

Vespa cursed and dove for a trash can they were walking past, and Jet carefully set Mista Steel down, the lady’s body crumbling, unable to hold himself up.

Jet realized this, and propped him up, looking slightly uncomfortable at the factor of comforting the lady, but it didn’t take long for Juno to slump over the trash can and start puking.

“Shit”

Vespa cursed, her low voice full of concern, somewhere next to her Mista Ransom made a concerned noise.

“What’s going on?”

Buddy was behind Vespa, towering protectively over all of them.

“Not sure, pretty sure he managed to tear his stomach lining.”

The worry settled over the crew like a heavy blanket, Rita felt tears in her eyes.

“How did it happen so fast, Vespa? Does it not usually take a few days?”

Peter kept his normal composure, worry seeping through.

“Usually, but he’s been sick with nothing in his stomach, and he’s also probably shot most of his organs with his behavior at a young age, wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t the first time.”

“Fuck”

Juno was still heaving over the can, clearly in pain, too weak to even hold onto the can.

Peter settled on the floor next to his love, the self-control of respecting the privacy the lady clearly wanted was gone and if everyone was honest, Juno didn’t seem to mind.

The thief opened his arms, and Jet helped maneuver Juno into them, where the ex-detective immediately latched onto Peter.

“Hurts- please it-“

Peter shushed him and ran his hands through sweaty hair, rocking him gently.

At some point, though, Vespa noticed something that caused even her to feel worry.

“We gotta get him to the medbay now”

Peter looked down in fear to where Vespa’s eyes were laying, and was horrified to see a large, ugly, black bruise coloring his lady’s stomach, red splotches inside of it.

His lady was bleeding internally.

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

Peter could hardly believe the mess they had gotten into.

He really didn’t want to.

At the party, he… he didn’t know, he wasn’t with Juno, he had to use the bathroom, and when he got back His lady may have offhandedly mentioned it but he didn’t even realize until Rita began to scream over the coms.

The look Rita gave him back on the ship made him want to cry.

Juno pulled away from him, wouldn’t let anyone near him as he locked himself in the bathroom.

Peter was scared.

Rita yelled for him to get Vespa and everything moved so fast for the next ten minutes.

And now, Juno was in surgery, hooked into machines galore as Vespa worked over him, filtering a tube down his throat.

Mallory-Weiss Syndrome was one set of words Peter was able to pick out of Vespas growling, a tear in the stomach lining, usually caused by excess vomiting and coughing.

Juno had been ill since the night before, and probably didn’t eat the day of the heist, meaning it was just acid.

Peter felt sick himself.

His lady was hurt because of his lack of focus on a heist.

But what was making him so sick?

It could have been laced, of course, it would’ve caused some nausea likely, but not this, especially with the low dosage, but it could have been his body reacting to the drug entering his system for the first time in so many years or-

“Peter, darling, are you alright?”

Buddy had her hand on his shoulder, and he inhaled shakily.

“I’m.. I’m fine, Captian, worried about Juno is all.”

She pulled him into a hug, and he started to cry despite himself.

“Peter, it’s not your fault, Juno knew what he was doing, Rita and Jet suspect that he didn’t even feel the need to take it because of the temptation, only the safety of the heist.”

Peter pulled away from Buddy, he didn’t deserve the comfort.

“I just- what’s making him so sick?”

Buddy sat in a chair that was pulled up by the medbay door, looking extravagant as ever.

“We’re not sure, Jet mentioned that the fear of becoming addicted again may have sent him into a panic, but my Vespa will run some tests to make sure it wasn’t laced.”

He nodded, looking out the window.

“Ransom, darling, you know it’s not your fault, right?”

He looked down, pursing his lips together.

“It- Captain I left him, it was.”

She sighed, and Peter felt shame prickle in his back.

“Mista Ransom is wasn’t, Mista Steel knew what he was doin”

He didn’t even know when Rita got there, but soon she was hugging him, hardly reaching his chest.

He let himself feel the comfort for a second, before they all went back to waiting quietly outside the medbay, a worried film over the crew of the Carte Blanche.

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

Hours must’ve passed before the door to the medbay opened, and the disgruntled medic stood in the door.

“Vespa? Is Juno alright?”

Vespa looked tired, she had blood on her shirt and Peter didn’t think it should be there.

“He’s gonna be okay”

Relief wiped over the crew but the bitter taste of fear stuck in the air.

“It… was bad. The drug was laced.  Another chemical. He flatlined. Five minutes”

Peter felt his heart stop.

His Juno died.

“Ransom, you in there?”

Vespa was looking at him, everyone was.

“Juno he- he died?”

Rita was crying, sitting next to Jet, and Vespa had made her way over to Buddy.

“No, well, yes, kind of but he’s not dead anymore.”

He was still worried shitless, but his love was… going to be okay.

“He had a tear in his stomach, the puking caused it, but I’m gonna guess either the drug managed to weaken his stomach lining or his past drug abuse and it’s side effects weakened it, which caused it to bleed internally more. His heart gave out while I was cauterizing the tear. It was messy, but he will make a full recovery.”

Peter was sobbing and felt rather embarrassed by this.

“Ransom, he’s okay, you can even go see him.”

Vespa was being… oddly tender towards him, which made him more uneasy, but he collected himself.

“I- I think I will, Rita, would you like to join me?”

She nodded vigorously and let go of Jet, who she was holding too tightly.

They walked quietly into the room together and the sight scared them both greatly, Juno laying on the small bed, hooked up to more machines than Peter could count, tubes up his nose and one down his throat, pale and sweaty.

“Juno”

Peter was so scared for his love, he was asleep, tired out from the day.

“He uh- he’s gonna be out for a while, I’ll bring the extra cot in here ina bit so you can stay in here and actually get some sleep, I had to intubate him, he’s hooked up to a lot of antibiotics and uh, feeding tube, he’s not gonna be able to eat but he needs nutrients.”

He pulled a chair next to Juno’s sickbed, holding his hand and running hands through his hair.

“Juno I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry my love”

He was crying and he wanted nothing more than for Juno to wipe his tears and tell him it was gonna be okay.

Hours passed with him and Rita sitting by his side, hardly speaking, Jet brought tea, Vespa brought them food, tried to make Peter eat best she could, it didn’t work.

“Ransom, you gotta eat”

He didn’t.

Rita left at some point, Buddy sat with him for awhile too, trying to convince him to sleep and eat, but he wouldn’t, only sitting with Juno, not letting him go.

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

Juno pried open his eye, feeling like glue was holding it together, and was greeted by bright lights and a steady beeping sound.

The memories of the past however long it had been came back to him.

The sola, the sickness that followed it, concerned voices surrounding him, Vespa looking down at him, worried as hell.

He tried to turn his head, but the tube down his throat stopped that.

That wasn’t good.

He tried not to freak out, but that failed.

“Calm down or I’m gonna have to sedate you again Steel”

Vespa was above him again, and her face was stern.

Other voices were around him, Rita and Jet were talking at the end of the bed, and Buddy was on the other side of him trying to keep him calm

He couldn’t hear Nureyev.

“Shit- Steel if you don’t stop moving you’re gonna fuck up your throat and I don’t wanna deal with the complaining.”

He tried to stop moving but everything hurt and he needed to run he needed to make sure Nureyev was safe he needed to-

The world went dark.

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

Buddy was happy she finally got Peter to sleep in his bed for a few hours.

Juno looked… terrified, hurting, and scared beyond any way she could describe.

Everyone looked tired.

Her Vespa was clearly worried even, which scared her more saying her outward hate of the detective.

Vespa motioned for everyone to leave, keeping her head down.

Buddy walked over to her once Rita and Jet had left the small medbay, holding her face in one hand and wrapping the other around her, gently tilting up the medics head so she could see her loves eyes.

“Shit, Bud I-“

There were tears in her medics eyes, and Buddy knew that she wasn’t telling them the whole story or situation.

“He’s strong, Vespa, he will be okay”

He needs to be.

Vespa rested her head for a moment on the other woman’s chest, keeping her close, and for just a moment they stayed like that.

“He’s- he’s really bad off, Bud”

She knew, of course, that her lover didn’t hate Juno, or Peter, for that matter, but the whole situation had taken Vespa’s guard down completely it seemed.

Many nights they talked about it, getting Vespa to try and trust them, and Buddy also spent time pointing out the ways he showed his affection towards people, to point out how the lady would make sure to get Rita’s snacks whenever he was planetside, and how he would help Jet whenever he needed it.

Vespa thought about the times he would sit with her, when her eyes darted back and forth and everything was too much and the screaming wouldn’t stop, how he would engage her in conversation as much as he could, or play music, trying to remind her that she wasn’t alone and that she was real.

After a moment, Vespa pulled back, and walking back over to Juno.

“I uh- gotta take this out. He should be able to breathe now”

Buddy nodded and rested a hand on Juno’s knee, careful not to get in the way and to not look, she wasn’t squeamish by any means, but seeing Juno like this…

“You should sleep, Bud, I’m gonna stay with Steel for a bit.”

She looked at her lover, who was now washing her hands in the sink, she looked tired and scared.

“I think you need it more than I do, my love, why don’t you rest on the cot for a while, and that way I’ll still be here with you?”

Vespa nodded, walking over to Buddy and pushing her face into the captain’s neck, almost purring like a content cat, before laying on the cot, her love close enough to protect.

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

Jet did not want to think about this.

He had dealt with his own struggles of addiction, he even wished to partake in those habits now, Buddy had saved him.

Now, he had more people to help him, and he cared about them each.

Juno Steel, one lady who Jet was very protective of due to the vulnerability he’s seen Juno show, was in danger.

And Rita, his friend whom he held closer than most, was very upset about this.

The short lady had spent the larger part of the past forty-eight hours pacing around the room they had begun to share, mostly for convince and comfort, crying, eventually wearing herself from said crying and sleeping, or trying to keep herself calm enough to calm Jet down after he was hit by a nightmare in the few hours of sleep he got.

This was bringing up less than pleasant memories for him as well.

Seeing Juno in that bed, so small and sick, after one pill, shook Jet to his core.

Seeing Juno so sick from what others gave him made him angry.

The nightmare was about M’Tendere, as many were since their death.

Rita laid on top of him like a blanket, something she had discovered worked to ground him after a few weeks together on the ship.

He wrapped his arms around her, they were both in distress, and the least they could do was be there for each other.

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

Juno did not wake up for four days.

Peter refused to leave his side for all but 8 hours.

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

Juno woke to a weight on his side.

He tried to move his head to look, but unlike last time, there was no tube down his throat, only a plastic oxygen mask on his face.

Trying to move wasn’t working either, one hand was thoroughly trapped under whatever, more so whoever, was using his hip as a pillow, and the other was connected to wires with needles in it.

Ah.

He was in the medbay.

“Steel, you finally up? Not gonna flip out and hurt yourself again?”

Vespa was talking quietly, probably not to wake whoever was sleeping on his side.

He nodded, the mask moving uncomfortably on his face and it was then he realized he had a tube in his nose as well.

Vespa moved quickly, gentle more so than he thought, pulling the mask off his face, checking that he could still breathe, and slowly removing the tube that was in his nose, a very, very, uncomfortable sensation.

Breathing was still hard, so Vespa put some more tubes up his nose, despite his complaints.

“Steel, you’ll be fine, less uncomfortable the other, it’s just gonna sit in your nostrils, calm down, I gotta keep you breathing or your boyfriends gonna be mad, and so will the captain.”

He let her do it.

When she finally was done poking and prodding him, he looked at whoever was laying on him.

Nureyev.

He looked like shit, his black hair was greasy and he was wearing one of Juno’s shirts, and a pair of leggings Rita had bought him.

It made Juno’s heartbreak.

“He’s sat vigil in here for days, so figured we’d let him sleep.”

He looked back at Vespa, hell she looked exhausted too, her eyes were deep and sad, wearing a sweater Juno had knit for her, and jeans that she’d always had.

“Call if you need anything, I’ll let you rest but uh, sure everyone will wanna come see you soon.”

She stalked towards the door, and he felt an odd pang of affection for her.

“Thanks, Vespa”

She smiled and he swore for a second that she looked almost relieved.

“No problem  Steel, just… don’t do this again.”

Some time passed, and he was able to wiggle his arm out from under Peter, running his hand through the thief’s hair.

“Mmph-“

Peter was making noises in his sleep, and it took a lot of what Juno had not to laugh, god, he loved this man.

“-uno?”

Peter was looking up, with bleary eyes, and part of Juno felt guilty, his eyes were puffy and red, clearly crying before he fell asleep.

“Hey, sleepyhead”

It took Peter a moment to process, he was clearly overtired, but when he finally processed who was talking to him, his eyes filled with a bright color, with a hint of worry left in them.

“Juno, oh, my love, you’re awake.”

Peter looked like he was about to cry, and he shot up from where he was sitting, likely uncomfortably, and he kissed Juno’s face in any place he could reach, and before long, Juno felt tears that weren’t his own on his face.

“Baby, babe, stop”

Peter looked vaguely like a wounded animal at being told to stop loving his lady, the lady whom he thought would die in his arms.

“Nureyev, baby, I’m okay, I’m okay baby, I’m here”

Juno held his face so gently, wiping the tears that were staining his perfect skin.

“I’m sorry I scared you baby”

Peter pulled away from him, sitting on the bed next to him, slipping on the mask of Ransom.

“My dear I am sorry you were so poorly and I couldn’t do anything I just-“

Juno sat up carefully, and leaned forward, grabbing Nureyevs face.

“Baby, it’s ok to be scared and sad, it’s alright”

Peter fell against Juno’s chest, careful not to jostle him too much and not to hurt him.

Juno wrapped his arms around Peter’s back, holding him close.

“I was- I was so scared, you- you were-“

Juno shushed him, the sound of Peter crying hurt his heart, and he was sure Vespa would explain when she got back.

A knock on the door, probably the others, Peter sat up, quickly donning his mask again, just before the door swung open to reveal the rest of the crew, Rita running towards Juno’s bed.

“Oh Mista steel I was so worried and I-“

Juno opened his arms, and Rita carefully climbed onto the bed, where Ransom had evacuated for just this purpose.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Rita.”

She escaped his hug, carefully wiping her tears and nose on her sweater.

“Oh Mista Steel it’s alright I just.. it felt too much like ol times for a bit, but Mista Jet helped a bit but I was still real worried cause Miss Doctor Vespa said-“

Just then, Buddy and Vespa came into view, gently cutting Rita off.

“Why don’t we let my Vespa explain that, dear?”

Rita nodded and slid off the bed, pushing Peter back onto it, while Buddy sat on the opposite side.

“The sola was laced.”

Juno cringed, trying to look away from them, ashamed and embarrassed, but Buddy (and the tubes in his nose) kept him looking at the crew, at his family.

“We- we can talk about that later, though, uh, the point is is that you had a tear in your stomach and you- you flatlined at one point”

Peter looked away from him, and Juno reached and grabbed his hand, it was scary, yeah, but he was asleep, and Peter had to see it.

“I had to intubate and you woke up at one point and I had to sedate you, it was bad, really bad.. heh”

Buddy held her hand, and he looked up to see Jet had a hand on Rita’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to”

Vespa sighed and sat next to Buddy on the bed, closer than he had been to her while conscious.

“I know, but you’re gonna need to be more careful for a while, you’re stomach is healing, you’ll make a full recovery.”

He smiled and thanked her again, and after a short time, it was decided that he could probably go back to his quarters, mostly so that Peter would actually sleep but no one said that, with the proper equipment and supervision.

After everyone else had left, it was just Juno and his love again, and it was even more obvious how tired he was now.

“Nureyev, baby, when’s the last time you slept in an actual bed? I was out for four days, please tell me you actually slept during that time?”

Peter avoided his gaze, fiddling with his fingers, almost moving them as a fidget, something they’d tried to get him to stop doing.

“Babe?”

Juno was worried about Peter,  he looked pale and thin, more so than usual, and the way he held himself was one that usually was reserved for when the thief was in pain, hunched over, his perfect posture gone.

“Juno I-“

The lady could tell his love felt guilty, though he couldn’t understand why.

“Baby, I know you were worried but… I’m okay now, and you know that not sleeping, and sitting in that chair for so long makes your pain worse, why didn’t you let someone else sit with me?”

The thief looked exhausted, leaning his head in his hands.

“I couldn’t simply leave you, Juno, I needed to be there-” Juno sighed, truthfully the lady himself was exhausted, the nose tubes had been removed, as were most of the IVs, save the antibiotics Vespa didn’t trust him to take on his own.

“C’mere”

Juno opened his arms, and after a moment of hesitation, his thief shuffled into the open arms, still stiff in his form.

“I’m sorry”

The thief was uncharacteristically quiet, his voice shaky, and you can tell he had wrecked it from crying.

“Baby you didn’t… you didn’t do anything wrong, just, please take care of yourself too, I know I was sick but I don’t like seeing you hurt”

Peter rested his head on the lady’s chest, his chest was still bare, years of scars exposed from many things to Peter, they only made Juno more beautiful, but his heart still ached at his perfect love’s suffering.

He reached his arm across Juno, running slim fingers against the scars, both self-inflicted and those from many syringes that had entered it.

The ones from his years partying were the ones Peter hated the most right now.

Juno sighed, gently moving his love’s hand from the arm, and cradling his face and meeting red-rimmed eyes, glistening with guilt and relief.

He pulled him closer, feeling warm breath on his skin was grounding, he was exhausted and the shame was setting in.

“Let’s just get some sleep, baby, we can talk more tomorrow”

After a few moments of silence and Juno had assumed the thief was asleep, a few more moments and he was almost asleep.

“Juno I- I thought I was going to lose you when I just got you back, you died and I was scared”

Peter was crying, holding him tightly as he could without hurting him.

“I love you, Juno.”  

No matter how many nights they spent together or how many times he said it, making love in their room, or simply staring into the eyes of the other it would never stop making the lady’s heart flutter.

“I love you too, Nureyev.”

It didn’t take long for the thief’s breathing to even out, followed shortly by Juno’s own.

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

Buddy checked on them the next morning, knowing they wouldn’t make it to breakfast, and thought of her own love suffering when she found out how ill Buddy was, how hurt Peter was.

She put it away for another time.

[undertalethingems]

Bark at the Moon Chapter 9: Setup and Punchline

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Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: Terrorizing Snowdin is fun enough, but Flowey wants more--where's Papyrus in all of this...?

Flowey suppressed a giggle as he hid beneath the lowest branches of a pine. Two monsters--a purple deer and a double-eared fox--were hiking just outside Snowdin. Idiots. Didn't they know there was a beast running loose?!

Flowey's smile turned jagged. There was a crack, and plumes of snow burst around the hapless monsters. Withdrawing his vines, he sent them running with a shower of pellets, delighting in their screams. He'd gotten bored of killing, but instilling fear in people was still fun and he had the perfect scapegoat.

Well, more like scape-dragon. His little rumor had done the trick. Even if he couldn't get Sans to attack, the townsfolk were so used to nothing happening it was easy to whip them into a panic. A prod here, a nudge there, a hail of bullets in between, and all of Snowdin had been buzzing within a week. He'd given it another just to really let it set in--and then let his pet go.

Flowey hadn't actually seen Sans in a while now, though he'd noticed his tracks around town and heard him howling at night. To think the toughest opponent he'd ever faced could be reduced to hiding in the shadows and relying on people's trash to get by! Though... that's more or less what all of monster kind was doing... A simple fact of life wasn't the best insult. Flowey frowned, his gloating spoiled. So much for that.

His fun over for now, he left his hiding spot to check in on the latest with the Guard. They usually met around this time to discuss the day's orders now that living in Snowdin had actually become eventful. Flowey liked keeping track of just how much chaos he'd caused, so he popped up beneath another tree and eagerly listened in.

"Undyne should be here soon, right?" Doggo was saying, and there was a rustle--presumably one of the Dogi nodding.

"We're supposed to meet with her at nine sharp. I wonder what our orders will be now that we know the beast is real," Dogamy said, and Doggo growled.

"I don't like it. We can't smell it, barely anyone's seen it--and its tracks just disappear into nowhere! Maybe it did eat Sans and stole his weird... appearing without moving thing..."

Flowey stifled a laugh. How were they all so dumb?!

Dogamy sighed. "Those brothers sure were something... at least Undyne told us Papyrus is okay."

Huh. So someone knew where Papyrus was...

"I've just gotta wonder about Sans after he was so worked up... and then he got sick, and we haven't seen him since. I hope he hasn't... you know..."

Doggo huffed. "Yeah. Damn. Oh hey--there's Greater Dog with the rest of 'em, guess it's time. Undyne's probably two steps behind 'em."

Flowey ducked a little closer to the ground to see better. He could hear the clanking of armor as Greater and Lesser Dogs trotted up with Dogaressa in tow. All the dogs shuffled around each other happily, sniffing and yipping; Flowey gagged as the Dogi kissed each other sloppily. Then someone started the morning howl, and they collectively threw their heads back to cry, their hot breath sending plumes of vapor into the chilled air.

Flowey found it all incredibly dumb.

Metal clanking rose over their voices, and their howls died away as they turned to salute their captain. She returned the gesture as she surveyed her troops, and sighed. She looked troubled.

"Anything to report before I begin?"

"No ma'am," Dogaressa replied firmly, "to our knowledge, there have been no further incidents. What are our orders for the day?"

Undyne nodded. "Right. We need to see if we can capture this... creature. It's clearly not a human, which means it has to be a monster somehow, so I don't want anyone hurting it. Whoever they are WON'T escape justice. Understand?"

"Yes ma'am!" they chorused.

"Good. Now, if it's scavenging from people's trash... that's gotta mean it's hungry."

"I can relate," Doggo murmured wryly, and Dogamy elbowed him.

"Ahem," Undyne growled, then continued. "What I was saying was, we might be able to lure it out with food. Today, I want everyone to scout out places that look promising--where there's been a lot of tracks, places that naturally make escape difficult. We're NOT letting this thing get away."

Flowey quietly scoffed--good luck with that plan. Sans wouldn't be found if he didn't want to be, and he couldn't be caught so easily either. He would know--he'd had to keep him tied up personally at all times just to keep him from disappearing on a whim. This would be hilarious. Even more so if he messed with them the whole time. The guards broke their huddle to get to work, and Flowey followed with full intent to sabotage.

He dumped snow on the Dogi, threw a stick for Greater Dog that sent him skidding across a patch of ice, and kept pulling on Doggo's tail when he wasn't looking; Undyne was harder to mess with, but he still managed to clock her in the helmet with a big icicle. By the time the morning shift was over, he'd made a thorough nuisance of himself and was quite pleased.

"Maybe this beast is actually a ghost, and they're playing poltergeist with us," Doggo growled dejectedly during one of their breaks, and Greater Dog whined in agreement.

"We'll question the ghost cousins if we have to, but I want everyone to focus on our goal," Undyne commanded. "There's already been one incident today. Let's do everything we can to make sure there's not another. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am!"

Flowey had gotten bored of messing with them, so he left them and settled for poking around town to see what other havoc he could cause while the Guard was occupied. There wasn't much--everyone had taken to keeping their things and themselves indoors, so the most he could do was tap on windows and scratch at walls. But not being able to see the fear on his victim's faces took the fun out of it, and he grew bored of that too. He might as well wait for Undyne to get home so he could find out where Papyrus was.

He wasn't sad to exchange Snowdin's ice for Waterfall's mud, popping up in the corridor just outside Undyne's home. He'd hang out here, then maybe catch her attention as she passed by.

The wait was almost unbearable, but he finally heard her clanking down the passage and wriggled with excitement. Finally, he'd be able to question her--wait, where was she going? She'd passed by and continued down the hall. Flowey lowered a brow, and ducked down to follow her. At one point he overshot--she'd stopped somewhere behind him, at a cleft in the rock walls that wasn't really a path. She sprang up, and he burrowed as fast as he could to catch up before he lost sight of her completely.

He came out in time to see her finish vaulting up the walls and frowned. It could take him hours to find a route through the rock... but he didn't want to keep sitting around. He wanted--needed--to know what Undyne was doing, because this pathway was new. He grit his teeth, and sent out his roots to feel for weak points in the rock.

He finally emerged on a landing some twenty feet above the spot he'd left, and muddy boot prints confirmed this was where Undyne had come through. He peered down the corridor they led into, and cautiously made his way forward. There wouldn't be so many places to hide here--but not far from the exit, he found a nook between a few stalagmites and hung back, listening as Undyne spoke.

"Yeah, sorry about that. There's just... a lot going on with this investigation. Nothing serious, don't worry! But it's got the Guard all worked up and someone's gotta keep 'em on task, y'know?"

"Of course!" Papyrus replied.

Flowey frowned. Papyrus was way out here? Why?!

"Are you sure I can't help yet?"

"No, we can handle it," Undyne replied firmly. "We're close to a breakthrough, I can feel it!"

He heard Papyrus huff. "I'm sure your investigation would be over instantly if I helped, but fine... Anyway! You wanted a sparring session tonight!"

"YEAH! Gotta stay sharp, especially now that there's an active threat. Plus, you're perfect for helping me against--" Undyne cut herself off.

"Against anything!" Papyrus supplied.

"Yeah," Undyne agreed. "Alright, let's get into positions... and, whenever you're ready!"

Flowey heard the familiar ping of a blue attack, and Undyne was already laughing eagerly.

"Right off the bat! Hell yeah, bring it ON!"

Flowey listened to them clash, wishing there was some way to watch--but he hadn't found any more weak points in the surrounding rock. Drilling straight through would take forever--they'd be done by then. So he sat back and listened, and flinched at the hum of a 'special attack'. Flowey shook his head. 'Gaster Blaster' was a cooler name than that, but he never could get Papyrus to use it.

"Hah! You're hardly TRYING!" Undyne taunted as she undoubtedly summoned a ton of spears. "Now, dodge THIS!"

He could almost picture Papyrus darting around each crashing spear--but the sounds he heard didn't match. They were scratchy, clicky, came too close together to make sense with his mental image. Flowey furrowed his brow. What the heck was Papyrus doing? Walking on bone stilts?

A raspy yelp startled him from his thoughts.

"Oh geez, sorry!" Undyne called. "Are you okay?"

More clicking sounds, and Papyrus cleared his throat. "Yes! I was simply startled by that arrangement, that's all! It was very good!"

"Fuhuhuhu, thanks! I based it on a thing Alphys showed me--I'm gonna surprise the humans by using their own tactics against them!"

"Clever! It certainly caught me off guard! But soon! I'll be on the Guard! Nyeh heh heh heh heh!"

Undyne burst out laughing. "Not so fast! You gotta get through me first, punk! Come on! Prove you've got what it takes!"

Their sparring match began anew, and Flowey continued to eavesdrop. Papyrus seemed to be using his special attack more often than usual--maybe he was getting over thinking he had to 'save it' to keep it special. But... oddly... it sounded like Undyne was holding back? For all her boasting, he could hear it--she wasn't using as many spears as she usually did.

Papyrus confirmed it. "Hmph! You tell me to go all out! But you! You're holding back on me! You think I can't take it?"

"No!"

Papyrus gave an offended gasp. "You don't?!"

"No! That's not what I meant!" Undyne retorted. "I meant 'no' I think you can! I just! Don't--I don't feel like it! Ngaaaah!"

Well, that sounded like the usual number of spears.

"See! I knew you could do better!" Papyrus cheered when the salvo was over. "I even got hit a few times! But this battle isn't over yet!"

"... I dunno, Papyrus. I don't wanna hurt you anymore."

A huff. "You keep saying that! Or things like it! I know you're a very strong monster--you're the Captain! But! You seem to be afraid of everyone else hurting me too, and though it's true I don't wish to be seen, that is not the same... as being able to handle myself in battle! Nyeh!"

Undyne grunted, apparently taken off-guard by his attack. Flowey pondered his words--he didn't want to be seen? He was Papyrus, he always wanted to be seen...

"That's not it!" Undyne grunted. "It's--attacking you right now... feels like attacking a puppy!"

There was a long pause as the battle ground to a halt, but Papyrus finally spoke.

"... I see."

"No, I mean--it's just--you're already so nice! And then, everything that's happened getting you down--I dunno, it doesn't feel fair anymore."

"Our fights are very fair, Undyne! Perhaps the most fair! I am not, despite appearances, a puppy, but a very capable and dedicated warrior!"

Despite appearances!? Flowey's mind raced. If he was right--no, no, he needed to see. He hoped this little chat would wrap up soon, it was getting in the way!

Undyne sighed heavily. "I know, but... Listen, forget I said anything. You're a great fighter. There's just been a bunch of junk that doesn't make sense lately. Let's head home and get dinner, that'll clear both our heads."

"... Okay. I'm sure whatever feelings you're struggling with will be subdued by punching vegetables!"

"Yeah! Need any help packing up?"

"No, I can manage!"

Flowey cheered internally, then ducked back and waited. He could hear Undyne's armor clanging as she approached, and the rustling as Papyrus gathered up whatever stuff he had. And then, more clicking, a steady rhythm against the cavern floor. Flowey practically vibrated with excitement as it grew louder, nearer. The hall darkened briefly as Undyne filled the entrance then passed, and then it darkened again--though not as much, and Flowey kept his eyes riveted to the opening.

Oh.

OH.

There it was. Flowey watched, tucked in his corner, as a tall skeletal creature walked by with an easy grace, its slender claws clicking on the stone. It carried its long head high, with bright orange eye lights reflecting on the corridor walls. A red scarf was draped around its neck, some sort of brightly patterned sash or skirt wrapped around its hips, and a light satchel was slung from its tall dorsal spines. A long, whiplike tail trailed behind, flicking idly as it walked.

Flowey almost couldn't believe his eyes as he passed by, but there was no mistake. It was so familiar, but different. No wonder Sans hadn't been bothered by threats of Papyrus finding out what he was... because he was like that too. They were both freaks who didn't want anyone finding out. A wide grin spread on Flowey's face, and he ducked out to go somewhere private--somewhere he could laugh freely.

Oh, this was all too perfect! He had to do something with this--and already had the groundwork laid out. Now, to figure out just how to use it...

[xingplytwelve]

another chance

note: just releasing a bunch of yixing’s drabbles for fun while we countdown to his birthday had to squeeze my brain a lil for this one sidenote wE R CLOSE

NSFW | Word Count: 901

It’s today. His birthday. You sat on the couch, holding onto your knees as you looked at the birthday cake that you brought earlier on, for no apparent reason anyway. Since you had broken up with your boyfriend two years back. You thought you would be happy without him, but you haven't quite felt that way ever since you left him. Who could you blame though, it was your choice. He would have been the best boyfriend ever, if he didn’t had an alcohol addiction. At that point of time, it was getting unbearable for you, to see him return home, drunk, every single night. You were sick of it, and made the decision to break up with him. But thinking back, you wasn’t sure if that was the right choice. How can someone be perfect, anyway? Everyone had their own flaws, it’s a give and take. 

But just for today, you were really missing him. Every single bit of him. How he was always so sweet in his own little ways. The way he refused to let go of your hand when you guys were shopping for groceries in the supermarket while he’s sober, and the way he tugged onto you, refusing to let you go while he’s drunk. Everything. The sound of the door clicking in the complete silent atmosphere had given you a shock. There isn’t anyone who had the passcode to your apartment, unless… 

You turned around, your body trembling uncontrollably as your thoughts started running wild. You found yourself looking into the dark-brown eyes of the man that you had loved so much. It was really him. It’s yixing. He looked, different, though. He was well-groomed, too well-groomed for his own liking, making his handsome features stand out even more. You stood up, making your way towards him slowly. ‘Sorry, I was just trying my luck with the passcode. You didn’t change it?’ he started out. Yup, you haven’t changed it since. Maybe a small part of you was hoping for something like this to happened all along. ‘y/n,’ he called, as he moved closer. 

‘I’m sorry, can we start afresh?’ 

Your eyes were getting watery, you wasn’t even sure if this was really happening, or was this all just a dream. A dream that you had because you were missing him so much. He held you in his arms once he was close enough, making you realised that it’s real. Your tears were starting to fall, as you make out, ‘I hate you, I really hate you so much.’ But you found him cupping your chin up for a kiss, a kiss which you couldn’t bear to resist, and it made you lose your ability to think straight. His tongue was finding it’s way into your mouth, and that was when you came back to your senses. You broke away from him, pushing him away and asked, ‘what are you doing?’ Yixing tugged onto your wrists, pulling you back into his embrace as he said, ‘I know you still have feelings for me, y/n. You didn’t change the passcode, and you still remember it’s my birthday today. I went for rehab, and while I was in there, you’re all I could think about. I really want you back in my life y/n, you’re the reason why I quit drinking, once and for all. I’m sorry I took so long, will you give me another chance, please?’ You hid your face in his chest as you tried to stay silent while sobbing, and your hands were subconsciously finding their way to his waist, hugging him back. Yixing pats your head gently, causing you to look at him. ‘you’re so pretty even when you’re crying,’ he murmured, as he caressed your face, wiping your tears away at the same time. He leaned in, tilting his face in a way that it’ll fit yours perfectly, and you naturally responded to him, melting in his kisses. ‘You’ve no idea,’ yixing mumbled in between. ‘how much I missed you,’ he ended his sentence, while his hands started moving down your curves. 

Everything happened in a snap, and before you realised it, you were already laying down on the couch with yixing thrusting inside you. You clutched onto his arm, your gaze not even leaving him for a second as you asked in between whimpers, ‘just what, ahh… are we doing?’ ‘Shh,’ yixing hushed. ‘just know that I fucking love you,’ he continued, caressing your bare thighs as he carried on. He knew that he wasn’t going to last, but just as he was about to withdraw himself out, you stopped him. ‘I think I want you, yixing,’ you whispered, hoping that he caught what you just said. Yixing was biting onto his lips, his dimples popping in and out as his expressions changes the moment he exploded within you, filling you up with his thick, hot cum. He rested his body alongside with yours, while you held him close to you, so close and tight, as both of you struggled for ample space on the couch. You circled your fingers on his chest that was still heaving, as you said softly, ‘you’re such a bad man.’ Yixing smiled, taking your hand with his and held it close to his heart, saying, ‘I’ve change, baby. I promised I’ll be a better man, just for you.’ 

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 5 (3/3)

Happy New Year!! Hoping this one will be better than the last... Generally to say a year has been good or bad is a very personal consideration. This could be the first time that all people around the world agree in saying that 2020 sucked. 

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/638598893496631296/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-5-13

Part 2 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/638776947069059072/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-5-23

Chapter 5 (3/3) - Valentine

Words: 1,9 k

Valentine was quieter that day. There were definitely fewer people wandering in the big muddy street and that was perfect according to Javier: fewer people meant fewer possibilities to be recognized, targeted or disturbed. They left the wagon where they could keep an eye on it while they had a look around and then they split: Charles went with Karen and Tilly at the saloon, while Javier, Mary-Beth and Emily walked past it.

“I need to stop by the Gunsmith. You want to wait here or…” he said as he saw the big sign painted on the top of the building.

“No, no, we come with you. I’m here for this” replied the new girl.

They crossed the street and entered the blu house. The store was poorly stocked with gun’s variety, but Javier didn’t mind it, he was there for a problem with one of his pistols and wasted no time in asking the shop-owner.

“Do you clean your weapon regularly?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Then, it can be due to the wear. You can buy a single piece or if you are interested we have a fine supply of new Cattleman Revolvers, sir. They came the other day directly from Saint Denis.”

“I’ll take the single piece.”

“As you wish, sir.”

While the shop-owner walked in the other room, Javier turned around to watch the new girl admiring a display cabinet full of Lancasters.

“I thought you was scared of guns” he said making her turn around.

“I am, when someone holds one. Here displayed and closed up, no.”

“Is there something else I can provide for you, sir? A new rifle maybe? A shotgun?” asked the owner coming back with the new piece in his hand.

“What’s the difference between a rifle and a shotgun?” asked Emily walking closer to the counter.

“Well, there are plenty of differences, Miss. The most important is that a rifle can shoot farther and with more precision than a shotgun, thanks to the little grooves of the bore.”

“Wow, it’s fascinating. What’s the most accurate rifle you’ve got?” she asked laying her elbows on the counter.

“The Carcano Sniper Rifle. This one” he replied pointing to a big firearm inside a cabinet. w“It can hit a target at a great distance without making the bullet lose it’s power.”

“For being afraid of guns you’re quite interested” joked Javier taking out his money to pay the man.

“Hey, I’m just curious. It’s always good to learn something new. Thank you, Mister. Have a good day” she said to the man before she followed Javier outside.

“So, what you want to do now?” he asked as soon as the three of them walked out of the store.

“I don’t know. Just let’s look inside the other stores, I’m really curious to know how they’re like.”

Javier sighed thinking that that trip to town was going to be useless, but he followed her anyway when she crossed the road and aimed for the doctor. They walked inside and just like before the new girl started looking around with that admiring expression of hers, just like she had never seen an apothecary before. She watched carefully all the ingredients, medicines and tools displayed in the cabinet behind the counter and from now and then she asked something to the doctor.

“Is this real laudanum?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“You know it is addictive, don’t you? It’s like a drug.”

“Yes, Miss, but with a proper dosage the addiction can be avoided.”

“If you say so” Javier heard her murmur and it made him chuckle. 

They were waiting patiently for her to finish her little tour when the door behind them opened and made the little bell above it jingle. Two men came inside, and from their look Javier was sure they weren’t there for some laudanum. And in fact, they exchanged a look with the doctor who excused himself and went to the other room followed by the two. 

Javier took a couple of steps towards the door, acting indifferent but studying the two figures and the doctor as they reached another heavy iron door in the back of the other room. The doctor knocked and a couple of eyes showed up from a little window. Then, from the other side they opened and let the two men inside. Javier turned around and pretended to look at something on the table as the doctor came back.

“Hey, what do you think he has back there?” whispered the new girl walking closer to him.

Javier narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. She had noticed the two men, too. How could it be? She was clumsy and distracted, she wasn’t paying attention and she had no idea how to find an illegal activity, and that one was clearly some kind of illegal practice the doctor was running.

“I don’t know. Something illegal, it seems. There could be some money. Maybe we’ll take a look” he replied.

“Do you want to do it now?”

“No, not now. Let’s go.”

...

They walked out of the building and decided to go to the saloon to meet the others. Charles was drinking at the bar, Karen was upstairs trying to fool a poor idiot to steal from him, Tilly was at the general store to buy something. 

“So, have you found something interesting?” asked Emily reaching Charles’s side.

“No, you?”

Since she had seen those two men walking inside the apothecary and she had understood something shady was going on there, she was thrilled to bits and couldn’t wait to tell it to someone else. 

“We found an illegal activity or something like that. Javier says we can try to rob it.”

“We?” asked Charles frowning. “Since when you’ve become a criminal?”

“Well, technically speaking, the doctor is doing something against the law, so… if we rob him, we’re doing something good. Right?”

“I guess” murmured Charles and he drank from the little glass he had in his hands.

Emily had no idea why she had said that. She didn’t believe in what she had said: illegal activity or not, robbing him was wrong. The right thing to do was go to the police… no, the sheriff, and tell him about what they had found out. But robbing him could get them some money, which they needed so desperately. 

“What are you drinking?” she asked to Charles.

“Whiskey.”

“Can I try?” she asked and looked at the man behind the bar who with a nod of his head turned around to take a bottle.

“You never had whiskey?” asked Charles

“I generally drink beer or cocktails at the parties, but never tried whiskey, no.”

“Get me one too, while you’re here, buddy” said Javier throwing a coin on the bar.

“Do you want something, Mary-Beth?” asked Emily.

“No, thank you. I’m going to check on Karen” she answered and walked towards the stairs that leaded upstairs.

The barman poured two glasses of amber liquid and served one to Emily and one to Javier who didn’t even look at it before he swallowed it. 

“Are you sure about the job thing?” she asked at the man behind the counter.

He looked at her in a way that made her understand there was no possibility to get a job there, at least not the job she wanted to get. 

“Okay, okay, sorry. I won’t ask again.”

Then, she took the little glass and just like she had seen people doing in the movies, put all the content in her mouth and down her throat. Needless to say, Charles had to pat her back and ask her if she was okay when she started coughing hard.

“Y-yes, I’m fine. Shit, this thing is strong. How can you drink it all the time?”

“We’re used to it” answered Javier.

“Hey!”

The three of them turned around to look at the man approaching the counter.

“You were here the other day, weren’t you? With the big man with the cowboy hat” he said to Emily.

“Yes, I was here, why?”

“Weren’t you looking for a job?”

Emily exchanged a look with Charles before she answered.

“Yes.”

“I’ve got a job for you, honey.”

“Really?” she asked naively.

“Right here” he said and he brought a hand to his… private parts.

Emily was used to stupid boys who played silly with her at school or at work, but no-one, no-one, had ever done something like that. She felt outraged, insulted, shameful and she had to look away as the man started to laugh with his friends.

“Hey, watch yourself, cabrón” said Javier.

“What, she’s yours? Sorry, partner, but I don’t believe such a delicate flower can go with someone like you.”

“Listen, why don’t you go back to your friends and leave us alone” replied Charles taking a step forward.

“Easy, big fella. I don’t want no problems. I just want to try the little thing here” he said with a nod towards Emily, who in the meantime had lowered her head so much that she was looking at the tip of her boots.

The men in the room laughed again and she felt her eyes sting and the shame running through her body. Then, Charles took her by her shoulders and pushed her away. 

“We wait for you by the wagon” she heard him saying to Javier.

Just like Arthur had done the day before, he led her out of the saloon and from there they reached the wagon.

“Are you okay?” asked Charles very kindly.

Emily nodded, but she dried a tear from her eye and Charles didn’t miss it.

“Don’t listen to them. There are always people like that in the world. You have to be strong and don’t mind what they say.”

Emily nodded again, as the tears started running uncontrollably. She din’t want to cry, to appear weak, but yet she couldn’t stop herself from doing it. Charles patted her on the shoulder and for her that was the go-ahead: she rounded his waist with her arms and hided her face in his chest.

Charles was surprised by the contact, but he didn’t withdraw. How could she be like that? He had never met someone so naive. Life was hard, the world was cruel and there was no escape for anyone from becoming cold, mean and heartless. So either she had lived all her life closed inside a room, or she was… Charles felt bad by thinking that, but she was a little dumb.

Tilly was the first who came back from the store and she helped Emily in recovering from the bad experience. Then, the others showed up and they all got on the wagon and rode back to camp. 

That was the second trip to Valentine and again Emily couldn’t not think that she didn’t like that place. It stank of shit, it was full of assholes and there was nothing interesting.

When they arrived, she decided to take something sweet from the kitchen to cheer herself up a little and reached Mr. Pearson who, noticing her sad face, decided to give her a chocolate bar.

She thanked him and giving it a bite she walked towards the rest of the camp passing in front of Hosea and Arthur seated at the same round table.

“So, how was Valentine?” asked the former.

Emily, looked first at him and then at Arthur.

“You were right” she said, fixing her eyes on Mr. Morgan’s face. “That saloon is no place for me.”

[lo-mindpalace]

22 – “I cursed the gloom that set upon us, But I know that I love you so…”

Warning: Characters deaths and description of a “possibility” to the end of season 15. If you’re sensitive to the end of the show, please be careful. I made myself cry while writing it so I don’t want to trigger anyone. (I’m a sensitive crybaby tho)

(DEAN’S POV)

 “Sammy! Hold on. Come on, you can do it.”

I couldn’t hide the distress in my voice anymore. Sammy was in a bad shape, exhausted and a lot of wounds on his body. I was exhausted too, and bloody as Hell. But my brother’s state was more important than my broken carcass. Sam was alive but so tired, he didn’t have any strength left. I clicked my tongue on my teeth and looked around me. The red sky and the stormy clouds made the landscapes very gloomy. The thunder was growling. Heaven was falling and the destruction of Hell was making the ground tremble. Monsters, Angels, Demons, Humans, everyone was either fighting with madness or hiding in order to survive. This was the end. Our world was ending as Chuck decided it so. We tried to fight back. God is hurt and Amara too but they ran away, Jack and Billie chasing them. We tried to follow them but we had to protect our people. It was awful. We lost so many people. Charlie and Bobby from the Apocalyptical world – losing them again. Garth. Donna. Claire. Kaia. Patience. Well… Only Jody and Alex were still alive, if we can call being seriously injured and broken on the inside being “alive”. Everyone fought bravely but almost everyone died, and now my little brother was exhausted and I couldn’t let him die too.

I saw Baby on a corner, still alive. I nodded to myself and looked at Sam, semi-conscious.

“Okay, Sammy. Imma carry you to the Impala. I will take care of you, little brother. Hold on.”

I didn’t expect an answer so I immediately carried my giant and heavy brother. Some of my wounds opened again with the effort and it hurt like Hell but I had to keep going. And that’s what I did. I managed to put Sam in the car, in the passenger seat. I entered the car too and started it. I drove until we were in Lawrence, Kansas, where all had begun. The bunker was gone so he didn’t have a home anymore. But we had Baby. I stopped the car under a shelter made of metal sheets. Jody was here with Alex. The young woman was trying to heal her adoptive mother. When they saw Sam, their faces crumpled even more. There was no hope in their eyes anymore, and to be honest, I was no longer sure if I still had an ounce of hope left in me either. I sighed and put Sam on a kind of hospital bed we brought here. I bandaged my brother as much as I could and let him rest. I went out of the shelter and looked around me, the city of Lawrence or what was left of it. Most of the houses were destroyed. It was silent like in a graveyard.

Suddenly, I heard a car passing by us. I turned my head and saw Cas. My face crumpled, all my worry faded as I saw him still being alive. He just had the time to get out of the car that I rushed into his arms, gripping him like I was gripping to life. He was still alive.

“Son of a bitch, you scared me to death.” I said in an accusatory tone.

“I’m sorry, Dean… I’m here…”

I immediately withdrew. I didn’t like the way he was speaking. I looked at the angel with a frowny face. He was more tired than ever. He sighed and looked at me with a sad face.

“I may have found a way to help Jack and Billie. But I don’t know how much it will cost me.”

“No. Don’t say something like this whereas I only found you again.” I said, raising my voice.

“Dean, if there is any chance to save this world and save you and what is left of our family, I will take this opportunity, no matter what.”

“No matter what? You mean, ‘no matter if you have to die’?!”

I began to feel tears of anger and distress. No. He couldn’t do this to me. Castiel sighed again.

“Maybe I won’t die… Maybe I will just… give up on my grace.”

It was like my world was collapsing around me – well it was really collapsing though. Cas was ready to sacrifice himself, again. It was unfair. So unfair. I discovered my feelings toward him not so long ago and we… We have been dating since then and… No. I couldn’t accept that. Not anymore. I couldn’t let him go with Jack while I’m standing here with my poor brother. I had to do something too. I had to. I was unable to pronounce a damn word at the moment, everything was stuck in my throat. I was always bad with words anyway. But I really needed to tell Cas everything, but I couldn’t, as usual.  

Castiel cupped my face with one hand and stroked my cheek with his thumb. He gave me a faint smile, his beautiful and deep blue eyes immersing themselves into my green ones.

“I cursed the gloom that set upon us, But I know that I love you so…”

“So what…? You are ready to sacrifice yourself again?” I said, almost whispering.

I congratulated myself for having been able to say something. But I immediately focused on Castiel again, my speedy heartbeat hitting my chest.

“If it’s for saving you and the others, then yes. If I can only sacrifice my grace, then it’s better.”

“But Cas… Your grace…”

“It would be like this Elf woman who sacrificed her immortality for the man she loves, in the Lord of the Rings. You showed me those movies.”

I shook my head, making a humorless chuckle. A part of me was proud that Castiel had this freaking reference but this conversation and the price behind it were too serious. I gripped Castiel’s trenchcoat and squeezed it.

“Cas, we are not in a movie, this is real…” I said almost with a strangled voice.

Castiel erased my tears with his thumb and rested his forehead against mine. We both closed our eyes, our breaths mixing together. We remained silent for long minutes until I felt my angel kissing my forehead.

“I have to try.” He said. “I need to try and give Jack more power so he can have a chance to survive. I’ve been human before, so, I can be human again. If it means to survive and save this world, I’ll accept my fate.”

While speaking, Castiel put a little paper with something written on it in my hand. I frowned and looked at Cas with a confused face.  

“Take Jody, Alex and your brother to the Impala and go to this address. It’s not that far. Maybe one-hour-drive from here. I can’t tell you everything because I don’t even know myself, but go there. We will meet each other again in this place, I promise.”

“Promise me I will find you there alive.” I said nervously.

Castiel lowered his head. I sighed and bit my lips in order not to sob. Of course he couldn’t be sure of that. It was stupid from me to ask this from him. I swallowed hard and nodded, whispering a soft “okay”. My angel was about to say something but I couldn’t hear more of it. So, I cupped his angelic face and crashed my lips into his, kissing him as if it was the last time – and maybe it was. Castiel returned it and we kissed each other for long seconds, even minutes, simply enjoying this moment, having his body against mine, tasting his soft lips. I hated chick flick moments but right now, I didn’t fucking care if I looked like a wife saying goodbye to his husband whose going to war. I didn’t want a farewell and yet, maybe it was. We withdrew our lips just in order to breathe and sniff, tears rolling down our cheeks.

“I love you so much…” I said in a sobbing whisper.

“I love you, Dean Winchester. I will always love you.”

“Fuck, I wish our story would have begun way sooner than six fucking months.” I managed to say, my lips shaking too much.

“Our story began the day I raised you from perdition.” Castiel said before kissing me again.

I sobbed against my angel’s lips. He tried to soothe me one last time before withdrawing completely. He took my hand and stroked it.

“See you there, Dean…”

“See ya, Cas…”

I looked at my guardian angel, my savior, my lover, going into his car, looking at me one last time before starting the car and driving away from me. I guessed my heart went with him because at the moment I couldn’t feel a damn thing. I stayed there, alone, for a few seconds before passing a tired hand over my face, wiping my tears away. I looked behind me and saw that Sammy was looking at me too. Shit, he saw it. He saw me, all weak and hopeless, and broken. I took a deep breath and walked toward him. Now, I had to follow the plan. To go to the place Cas told me to. I needed to be strong for my little brother. For Jody and Alex. For Jack. For Cas. I needed to keep fighting. Until the end. No matter what. Because that’s what we always did.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hey, hope you liked it... Sorry for the sad OS... I tried to make an open ending at least...

[artificialqueens]

Stupid For You, Chapter 5 (Crygi, Jankie, Jaida x Nicky) - Metaluna

Summary: In which everyone makes mistakes, and have to face consequences. 

A/N: Hey everyone! This does have a tw of domestic abuse.

The rest of the month went by smoothly for Jaida. She got to be team lead for most of her shifts, much to the jealousy of her coworkers. She didn’t care. She knew she was damn good at her job, and paid her dues for the past few years. It was what she deserved. Part of her was sad knowing it was her last summer at the park, but the idea of law school was much more exciting than telling guests that they had to put shoes on all summer.

She and Nicky continued their fling. It was some of the best sex Jaida had ever had. Jaida could feel herself developing feelings for Nicky, but rather than address them, she just ignored them. They’d go away on their own right?

She woke up at noon. Because there weren’t many leads in Sales, she worked six days a week, and it was her first day off in twelve days. She deserved to sleep in. Her phone buzzed. It was Nicky texting the groupchat.

Heyy ladies, I’m off today. Does anyone want to play in the park today?

This was her shot. Even though she and Nicky spent a lot of time together, they didn’t ever get the chance to just talk. Even after they hooked up, Nicky usually left pretty soon after, always having a reason to not hang out after.

First day off in 12. I’m down.

Nicky texted back quickly. See you at 2.

Jaida peered into her closet, and suddenly, she hated every single article of clothing that she owned. After rifling through shirts, and trying on different outfit combinations, she eventually settled on a cropped black tank top and army green shorts. 

Out of all of her coworkers, Jaida lived the furthest away. The half hour drive gave Jaida time to think. She knew that she felt differently about Nicky than she did with any of the previous flings. Even though she had her flings, none of them ended in a relationship. When she thought about Nicky, images flashed in her head of dinner dates, picking pumpkins, and curling up on the couch watching a movie. She had to do it. She had to bring Nicky to the Ferris wheel. If they went up together, they could talk it out. 

When Jaida arrived, it was only 1:40. The Landing, where the stores were, was in the front of the park, just off the entrance. She decided that she could harass her coworkers. Before entering Isle Mercantile, she saw Gigi walking with a cart full of beach towels.

“Gigi!” she called.

“Jaida! Hi! I saw you’re hanging with Nicky.” Gigi raised an eyebrow. “What exactly is going on with you?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I really don’t.”

Gigi pushed her cart into a shady corner under the roof. “Here. Come over here. Step into my office.”

Jaida rolled her eyes and sighed. “It’s just so hard. I like her, and obviously she likes me enough to fuck me, but I don’t know that she likes me enough to date me.”

Her phone buzzed. Jackie.

Girl. I saw you were coming into the park with Nicky. Are you going to talk it out?

She decided she could reply later and continued. “It’s so embarrassing but I’ve never had a girlfriend. I don’t know how to have this conversation. I doubt she likes me.”

“If you guys have manage to hook up as many times as you have, I feel like you’ve got something there.”

“Thanks, Gigi. Hey, what’s been up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just seem a lot less happy. Are you okay?”

Gigi nodded a little too quickly. “I’m fine! Anyway, Jaida if I don’t stock these towels, Brita’s gonna be pissed!”

Her phone buzzed again. It was Nicky.

I’m here. Meet at the food trucks!

After walking to the trucks, Jaida spotted Nicky at a table. The sunlight was hitting the blonde in just the right spots, making the her look even more beautiful than normal.

Jaida decided to sneak up behind Nicky. “Boo, bitch.”

She jumped, nearly falling out of her chair. “You bitch!”

“Let’s go ride the Jinn. I haven’t done it yet this year.”

While in line, she decided to text Jackie back.

I really want to, but I don’t know what to say, or how to bring it up. All I know that this feels different. This isn’t the same as all the others for the past three years. I can’t describe it. I really, really like Nicky. I want to take the next step, but I don’t know if she does.

As she hit “send” she returned her phone to her pocket, right as Nicky picked hers up.

Jaida knew what she did. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How could she be so stupid?

“So, that didn’t go to Jackie. Jaida…” Nicky began. “Is this true?”

Jaida was hoping to bring Nicky up in the Ferris wheel. Even though things never fell in her favor, it was a comforting place. The line they were in was a 30 minute wait. They had nothing but time to talk it out. Even though it wasn’t ideal, Jaida nodded. “It is.”

Nicky sighed. “Jaida, I like you, I really do.”

This is exactly how every other girl began when they wanted to cut things off.

“And it’s not you it’s me?” Jaida predicted.

“It’s a cliché, I know. But I have so much going on right now, that I really can’t date anyone, not just you. Jaida, I really do like you. A lot. In other circumstances, we would already be dating, but right now I can’t give you what you want. I understand if you don’t want to keep doing… what we’re doing. I will respect your decision either way.”

“No worries!” Jaida said happily, even though she felt like she was going to cry. “I’m totally fine with what we have.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise.”

For the fourth year in a row, Jaida felt her heart break. She was left wondering if things were better had she taken Nicky for a ride in the Ferris wheel.

—–

After her shift, Gigi sat at her desk sketching a dress. She felt her phone buzz. 

can you come over

Yea. Everything all good?

no

I’ll be there in ten

Gigi made the ten minute drive in five. Crystal answered the door. Her eyes were red, it was easy to tell that she’d been crying the past few hours. Her hair was disheveled, and she was wearing an oversized sweat shirt. “Come in.”

Wordlessly, Crystal led Gigi into her bedroom. All of her walls were hand painted beautifully, each wall with a different color scheme. Her room was slightly messy, but still somehow organized. A picture of Harry Styles hung above the bed. An easel was in the corner with an abstract painting. The closet door was propped open, exposing Crystal’s brightly colored clothing.

 “Talk to me,” Gigi said said as she and Crystal sat on her bed. 

Crystal started crying as she sat down. “It’s Ryan.”

“What happened?“

“We started talking about me going off to college in a couple months. Usually when we talk about it, he won’t talk about it. Well, I needed answers… and I got them. He told me that if I didn’t stay home, he would break up with me.”

“Oh, Crystal.”

Gigi was pissed. She knew how hard Crystal worked to get into the graphic design program. The school they were to attend in the fall wasn’t easy to get into. It had a 50 percent acceptance rate. Crystal was too talented to let that go to waste. The audacity of that boy to ask her to throw that all away. She wanted to tell Crystal everything she was thinking, but instead, she held Crystal and stroked her hair.

“We’ve been together since we were fifteen. I don’t know how to live without him, you know?”

“Mmm.”

“I just love him so much, I don’t think I can leave him. I think I’m going to withdraw my application from Ferris.”

“Crystal, no. You can’t. You worked your ass off to get into that school. You know you did.”

“I know. But I love him.” Crystal rubbed her eyes, causing her sleeve to roll down, revealing a deep bruise.

Gigi gasped. “Did he do that to you?”

“He didn’t do it on purpose! He said I was being unreasonable, and he was right. He just needs to calm me down sometimes, you know?”

“No, Crystal. I don’t know. That’s not okay, under any circumstance. I don’t care if you cheated on him. That does not give him the right to ever put his hands on you.”

“I’m so stupid. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have even applied to that school in the first place.”

“Absolutely none of this is your fault. Please don’t ever say that it is.”

Crystal sighed. “I think I need to stay here.”

“I think you’re wrong. But, what I do think is that Ryan’s bad for you.”

“How fucking dare you.” Crystal’s voice was harsher than Gigi had ever heard it. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s known me a hell of a lot longer than you have.”

“Crystal…” Gigi felt tears forming.

“No. Don’t start. You don’t understand what all we’ve been through. How could you? You could never understand because you’ve been alone your entire life. You can’t let people in. Even me. You’ve been weird as shit every single day since the party, and won’t tell me why. All you do is shut people out when they’re trying to help you. Me, Jan, Jaida, Jackie… We’ve all tried to ask you what was wrong, because clearly something’s wrong. You don’t let people in, or you get fucking pissy. Why? It’s not our faults that your dad fucking left. Stop taking it out on us.”

Gigi sat completely stunned.

Crystal realized what she had said. “Gigi… I didn’t mean… I’m so sorry. I–”

“I think it’s time for me to go. Find your own ride to work, or walk your ass there. I don’t care. Don’t text me. Don’t fucking talk to me.”

“Gigi, wait!” Crystal called. But it was too late.

–

On the drive home, Gigi felt her chest tighten and knew a panic attack was starting. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to drive, she pulled into a parking lot. All she could think of were Crystal’s words which cut her like a knife. Gigi knew that Crystal wasn’t a cruel person, and that it was all in the heat of the moment, but it didn’t matter. Gigi didn’t even know where the words came from, why out of nowhere Crystal would bring up Gigi’s behavior in that conversation, and she really didn’t know why she brought her dad into it. 

Her phone lit up.

gigi, i am so fucking sorry. idk where that came from. i don’t mean it. i hope you know that. that was fucked for me to say. so fucked. i understand if you don’t want to reply and need your space, but know that I am so fucking sorry, and ill never forgive myself for what i said. i can tell what i said really hurt you, and i understand if you dont want to talk, but just know if you ever do, i’m always here to listen

Gigi started typing.

Yeah, that WAS fucked. That fucking hurt me more than I could say. When I said my dad wasn’t a good person, I meant it. When I had my first girlfriend, I came out to my parents. My dad wanted to throw my ass out, and my mom wouldn’t let him, and said that it if I wasn’t out of the house, he was going to leave. My mom would never throw me out, so now he’s gone. It fucked with me. You wonder why I can’t people let me in? That’s why. I’m fucked up, and you’re right. I do need my space. Leave me alone.

She reread her response, and decided she didn’t owe Crystal an explanation, and deleted every word of the text.

—

Crystal was laying on her bed looking up at the ceiling, which was painted like a galaxy. How could she be that cruel? Her words were volatile. Crystal didn’t know the whole story. Even if she did, it wasn’t right to bring it up, especially not like that.

She had to make it right. She sat on her phone, trying to formulate the perfect apology text. A text felt so impersonal, but Gigi hated talking on the phone, and hated Facetiming. Crystal knew that a text would be the best thing she could do. After rereading her text a few times, she hit Send.

Gigi was typing something. Something long. Crystal anxiously waited for her reply, but the three dots disappeared. Instead, she was left with Read.

The pain Crystal felt was stronger than anything before. It was worse than anytime Ryan laid his hands on her. It was worse than the time he cheated on her. It was worse than anything, and she had no idea how she was going to make it right.

[komatsunana]

placebogirl7 submitted to merrygloom:

Hello! I’m re-reading Nana and I realized I’ve never really understood a thing, so I would like to know your opinion since I really like your analysis. The day before dying, while he was talking to Takumi, Ren said he wanted to leave Trapnest, because he didn’t want to get the band into trouble because of his drug addiction. Then the day after, while he was driving his car and talking to Hachi on the phone, he said he was going to bring back Reira because he wants to protect Trapnest. I’ve always been confused about this: do you think Ren in the end was really willing to leave Trapnest? Sometimes I have the impression he wanted to get back Reira as his last “gesture of love” towards Trapnest, like to say “I will leave before getting you into trouble, but before I want to be sure you’ll be all together and will continue even without me, because I owe you this since you’ll be my mates and my family for 3 years”. Maybe because I am convinced that the mysterious present for Nana is a recorded melody that she would have transformed into a song, considering the fact that during his conversation with Takumi he said he wants to leave Trapnest even because he missed Nana, and he thought about the moment when she yelled at him “Stop writing songs for another woman!”.  On the other hand, sometimes I feel doubtful about Ren’s real intentions. Maybe he wanted to bring back Reira and then follow Takumi’s scheduled program to quit on drugs and return with Trapnest, even knowing that Nana would have hated him for this? It would have been pointless to try to quit on drugs if in the end he would have not solved the problems that brought him to take drugs.  I’ve always wanted him to get back with Blast, because I support Kinoshita’s thought: I want to hear Ren Honjo’s cry of the soul! It’s when Ren plays punk music that he shows all his talent. 

Sorry for the looooong post, I hope you will have time and will to answer! ♥

–

I always have time to answer you @placebogirl7!!  I’m so glad to see you around lately, even though I know the circumstances right now aren’t… the best.  I hope you and yours are all safe and healthy and remain so.

You bring up a lot of interesting points though!  My view, just from re-reading volumes 19-20 just now, is that Ren was quitting Trapnest but because he wanted to but because he didn’t want his drug addiction to harm the band’s image.  Part of that image is making sure that Reira doesn’t run off and potentially harm her own public image.  I think he is going to going to fetch her for Trapnest’s image and for Reira’s sake - as Ren says earlier in that conversation with Takumi, Reira is his best friend/soulmate (fan translations say soulmate, Shojo Beat’s version says best friend) - so I don’t think it’s mutually exclusive in that instance that Ren wants to protect the band by leaving and go bring Reira back.

I’ve thought about it for the last few days but I don’t think Ren thought about Nana saying “Don’t write songs for other women!” because it was his reason he wanted to leave the Trapnest even in part tbh.  I think he thought about Nana in that moment because the reason he can’t quit is because taking them makes being apart from her bearable (not to mention not taking them puts him into withdrawal which inhibits his ability to play the guitar).  I also think he has trouble facing Nana because he is so deep into the drugs that he can’t bear to let her see him like that.

But I also think that things had changed since Ren had that conversation with Takumi and promised to leave the band and Ren leaving to go bring Reira back (and I think even his final talk with Hachi on the phone might have changed his perspective of the situation too).  So I don’t know that Ren would have gone through with leaving Trapnest if it’d have harmed Trapnest’s public image more than staying.  If Ren hadn’t died… I have no idea if he’d have left the band or not.

I talk about it a lot but I think to understand what Ren would have done we need to see the conversation Takumi and Ren had when Ren first left Blast for Trapnest.  What was Takumi’s pitch that made Ren believe in Trapnest so much?  Was it simply Reira and her voice?  In that case it has a lot of implications about Ren’s belief in Nana’s voice.  As you said, Kinoshita wanted to see Ren’s soul cry in his music, in a way that it wasn’t in Trapnest.  So what was it that made Ren join Trapnest??  I know a lot of people thought it was just the fame and a once in a life time opportunity but… I don’t see that?  With the Ren we know, I don’t believe it.  There’s something more to the story imo.  

I know I’ve been talking about it a lot lately but I really do think a Ren side story chapter was planned and would have answered that question.  The other bonus chapters were building up to it, I think.  Naoki’s story told Trapnest’s origin story, as well as Ren’s.  Nobu’s story told Blast’s origin story, but was less about Nana and Ren and more about Nana and Nobu - the two without whom there is no Blast.  Takumi’s told us why Trapnest even got an origin story - Takumi’s need to protect the one good thing in his life, Reira and her voice.  These stories changed absolutely nothing in the main story and yet…. they changed everything and I think a postmortem Ren chapter would have as well.

I also think knowing what Ren’s gift to Nana for her birthday would also answer an entirely different but related set of questions too.  Unfortunately while I think whatever it is is somewhere textually in the chapters we have, I haven’t the foggiest what it was because there are so many possibilities.

But I gotta say I hadn’t realized I’d been wanting that for some time myself… For Ren to play with Blast even just one more time!!  We only ever see Ren and Nana play music together in the prologue.  For a couple who love their music it’s a travesty!!  And to hear Ren play punk on top of that… And yet, now I realize with the amount of scathing Ren feels for Kinoshita when ever he says such things I wonder if I hadn’t been belittling Ren’s feelings for Trapnest and why he wanted to play with them above anything.  Because it all comes back to why did Ren leave Blast for Trapnest in the first place?  But even without an answer we know that Ren did feel absolutely loyal to Trapnest for his own reasons.

Eheh, no worries on the long ask… sorry for the long reply that basically amounts to “It’s a mystery~”  But thank you for asking and anyone else!!  Feel free to chime in with your own take!!  Here or on the NANA & Ai Yazawa discord!!!!

Here’s today’s (4/6/20) Discord invite link if you haven’t joined already: https://discord.gg/7KMKyF