#you could argue drowning is worse than punching

[unlikelysaintdelele]

I don't often read stories where sibling relationships are accurate. They either hate each other or would never even think to raise a hand against each other. I've punched my brother in the face and he's attempted to drown me, but we become a team the moment we have a common enemy. I would use my body as a shield to protect him in a life or death situation, but I know in my heart I would never be friends with or even tolerate him if we weren't related. Y'know? I wanna read more sibling relationships like that.

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄!

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : sick!fic, hurt / comfort, angst, argument, petnames, reader suffers from migraines, happy ending wc : 1.6k

the night logan left was one of those nights that seemed designed to fray every nerve, to stretch the limits of patience until something had to give. the two of you had been arguing more frequently lately, and it wasn’t hard to see why. logan had been under immense pressure, a new mission that demanded more hours than he had to give. the dates were looming, and his normally calm, steady demeanour was cracking under the strain. you noticed the change in him - how his smiles became rare, how he withdrew into himself, more often lost in thought or drowning in anxiety.

you had tried to be supportive, to be there for him in the way you thought he needed. but in doing so, you had unwittingly leaned in too close, offering solutions when he only wanted silence, asking questions when he craved peace. and on that fateful night, all the tension between you boiled over.

"i don’t understand why you’re being like this!" you had said, exasperation creeping into your voice after another tense dinner where logan had barely spoken. "you won’t talk to me, you’re shutting me out - how am i supposed to help if you won’t let me in?"

his eyes flashed with anger, something you rarely saw in him. "maybe i don’t want your help!" he snapped, standing up from the table so quickly that the chair nearly toppled over. "maybe i just need some space, but you can’t even give me that, can you?"

his words stung, but you tried to keep calm. "i’m only trying to be there for you, logan. you’re the one who’s been distant, not me."

"distant?" he repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. "you’re suffocating me! every time i turn around, you’re there, pushing, asking, demanding. i can’t breathe, y/n! you don’t know when to back off, and it’s driving me crazy."

that last word hit like a punch to the gut. crazy. was that what he thought of you? you felt your throat tighten, but you refused to let the tears spill over. "fine," you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. "if that’s how you feel, then i’ll give you all the space you need."

without another word, you turned and walked away, heading to your bedroom and shutting the door behind you. the sound of it closing was quieter than you wanted it to be, not nearly as satisfying as the slam that would have matched the rage and hurt churning inside you. you could hear him pacing in the living room, but you didn’t care. if he needed space, then that’s exactly what you’d give him.

minutes passed, and you heard the front door open and close. a hollow silence settled in the apartment, and you sank onto the edge of the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to hold the pieces together. you were angry, yes, but beneath that anger was a deep sadness, an ache that was all too familiar. this wasn’t the first time logan had shut you out, but it was the first time he’d been so harsh about it.

hours later, you finally crawled into bed, your mind racing with thoughts of what you could have said, what you should have done differently. but there was no going back. logan had left, and with him, he’d taken a piece of your heart.

the next day, you woke up with a dull headache that pulsed at your temples, but you pushed through it, telling yourself it was just the remnants of a bad night. logan didn’t call, and you didn’t reach out either. stubbornness won out over the desire to fix things. maybe he just needed time. you could give him that, right?

but the day after, the headache was worse, and the day after that, it was unbearable. the migraines came in waves, forcing you to retreat to the darkness of your room, curtains drawn tight against the light. every sound was amplified, every movement a fresh stab of pain. you tried to take care of yourself, but the loneliness only made things worse. you missed logan, missed the sound of his voice, the way he used to hold you close when the world was too much. but your fear of his anger, of pushing him even further away, kept you from reaching out.

by the fourth day, you were barely functioning. the pain in your head had become a constant, throbbing presence, and even the thought of getting out of bed was overwhelming. you knew you couldn’t go on like this, but the idea of calling logan terrified you. what if he was still mad? what if he didn’t care? what if he blamed you for everything?

but as another wave of pain crashed over you, you realised you couldn’t do this alone. with trembling hands, you picked up your phone and dialled his number, each ring echoing in your skull like a drum.

"hello?" his voice on the other end was soft, hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure it was really you.

"logan..." you whispered, barely able to form the words. "i’m sorry. i didn’t want to bother you, but i -"

he cut you off, his voice suddenly accompanied with a hint of panic. "y/n? is there something wrong?"

"i’m not very well," you admitted, tears spilling over as you finally let yourself feel the full weight of your pain and fear. "i’ve been so sick, logan. it’s the migraines, they won’t stop, and i didn’t know who else to call…"

there was a long pause on the other end, and you could hear him struggling to find the right words. "oh god, y/n," he finally said, his voice thick with guilt. "i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have left like that. i was so angry, and i took it out on you. i’ve been mad at myself for days, but i was too stubborn to call. i’m so sorry. i’ll be there in twenty minutes. keep me on the phone, yeah bub?"

you could only nod, even though he couldn’t see you. the relief was overwhelming, but it was mixed with a deep sadness that he had to see you like this, that things had gotten so bad between you.

true to his word, logan was at your door in record time. he didn’t even bother to knock, just used his key to let himself in. the moment he saw you, his expression crumpled into one of sheer regret. you were lying on the couch, a blanket pulled tight around you, your face pale and drawn, tear tracks evident. he knelt beside you, his hand reaching out to gently stroke your hair back from your forehead.

"y/n," he whispered, his voice breaking. "i’m so, so sorry. i’ve been such an idiot, and you’re suffering because of it. i should have never said those things. i didn’t mean them. i was just so frustrated, and i took it all out on you."

"it’s not your fault," you murmured, even though you knew that wasn’t entirely true. you could see the guilt in his eyes, and it tugged at your heart. "i didn’t want to push you, but i didn’t know how else to help."

he shook his head, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your cheek. "i’m so sorry, baby."

tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t just from the pain. you could feel the sincerity in his words, the weight of his regret, and it eased some of the hurt that had been festering inside you.

"logan," you whispered, reaching up to touch his face. "i missed you. i jus’ wanted to be close to you. "

his face twisted with anguish at your words. "of course, bub. ‘m so sorry."

you nodded, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of your lips despite the pain. "i forgive you," you said softly. "just… don’t leave me like that again."

"i won’t," he promised, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "i’m not going anywhere."

for the next few days, logan barely left your side. he took time off work, insisting to charles that whatever had been bothering him for so long could wait. his only focus now was you - making sure you were comfortable, that you had everything you needed, and that you never felt alone again. he would sit with you for hours, talking to you, holding your hand, or simply sitting in silence when the migraines made it too hard for you to speak.

slowly but surely, the pain began to ease. the migraines, once unbearable, became manageable, and you found yourself able to smile again, to laugh at his silly jokes, and to enjoy the warmth of his presence. the emotional wounds, too, began to heal, as you both worked to rebuild the trust that had been shaken.

one morning, as the sun streamed through the curtains, you woke up to find logan watching you with a soft smile on his face. "you look better today," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"i feel better," you replied, reaching up to intertwine your fingers with his. "thanks to you."

he shook his head. "you’re the strongest person i know, bub. i’m just glad i finally pulled my head out of my ass in time to be here for you."

you laughed softly, squeezing his hand. "we’re both a little stubborn, huh?"

"yeah," he agreed, his smile widening. "but i think we’re going to be okay."

and as you lay there, hand in hand, you knew that he was right. the storm had passed, leaving you both stronger, more connected than ever. it wasn’t perfect - it would never be perfect - but it was real, and it was yours. and that was enough.

[chaotictakea]

Fake emergency

characters: aged up!atsumu miya, aged up!kiyoomi sakusa and male reader content: poly relationship, established relationship, reader is a workaholic synopsis: Atsumu and Kiyoomi have to fake an emergency for their S/o to actually come back home words count: 998 words author's note: it's my first time really writting in english so for the one's who will read this, even if I proofread it the best I can, if you can please correct my mistakes so I can improve myself. characters: aged up!atsumu miya, aged up!kiyoomi sakusa and male reader content: poly relationship, established relationship, reader is a workaholic synopsis: Atsumu and Kiyoomi have to fake an emergency for their S/o to actually come back home words count: 998 words author's note: it's my first time really writting in english so for the one's who will read this, even if I proofread it the best I can, if you can please correct my mistakes so I can improve myself.

Atsumu and Kiyoomi are two well-known volleyball players, they earn a lot of money each month.

With all that money that they own they want to spoil their s/o till death. Unfortunately for them they fell hard for a workaholic that rarely accepted unplanned or too expensive gifts and drowned himself into work.

Tonight Y/n normally should have come back home around midnight or even one in the morning, but he almost having an accident as he tried to go back home as soon as possible when it was only 8 pm. Only because of Kiyoomi's panicked voice on the phone just a few minutes ago.

. . .

" Guys I'm back home !" Y/n shouted as he entered in their shared house. He barely had the time to get rid of his shoes that he was already running towards the kitchen, the only place from where he could hear sounds.

He was already preparing himself for a disaster, or even worse, because of the panic he had distinguished in Kiyoomi's voice during their short call where Kiyoomi urged Taruo to come home earlier today.

What actually happened ? Atsumu had an accident again ? Someone set something on fire ? All these worries seemed to navigate through his brain for an endless time, when in reality only a couple of seconds separated his arrival at home and his presence in the kitchen.

A…perfectly normal kitchen, just like everyday. Y/n didn't have the time to react properly that Atsumu was already welcoming him with a sweet kiss and his hands wrapped around his waist.

He frowned in confusion, why was everything so normal ? With his brows furrowed he let Atsumu drag him to the sink so that he could wash his hands.

After his hands were clean Kiyoomi gave him a kiss on the cheek while he was cutting some fruits. No one was taking the time to explain to him what was happening right now as Atsumu happily made him sit on a nearby chair.

" So… there's no emergency ?" Y/n asked hesitantly as Atsumu was drawing small patterns on his hips with his fingers, he couldn't believe that his boyfriends made him quit his job earlier than he wanted for nothing.

" No emergency ? Of course there was an emergency. You weren't at home yet." Kiyoomi said a tad of condescendence which earned him a light punch from Y/n.

" It's not an emergency at all." The shorter man replied flabbergasted by his boyfriends trick as he was sandwiched between the taller men. But he didn't search to argue further about it. For a moment no one was talking everyone was enjoying eachother warmth, because even if Y/n was a tad upset beeing in his lovers arms was delightful.

" It's an emergency." Kiyoomi answered back as he sat in front of his boyfriends, Atsumu standing behing Y/n with his arms still wrapped around him.

" You don't have to work this much, we're here !" Atsumu complained hugging Y/n tighter in his arms. Which only made Y/n roll his eyes as he didn't want to acknowledge Atsumu's point.

Of course having two boyfriends that were successful in the world of sport didn't allow him to really worry about money. But, in his eyes, it wasn't a reason to get lazy with job, even when his relation with his work was all but healthy.

" I always worked like this." Y/n said, trying to justify his unhealthy amount of work time. " And no one is dead because of it."

Atsumu pinched him to make him shut up as his face was burried comfortably against Y/n's neck, spreading endless kisses on it. " Shh.. Don't try to find an excuse." the blond cooed as one of his hands was squeezing Y/n's left thigh.

Despite Atsumu's words Y/n was preparing himself to say something else, found himself silenced by Kiyoomi's kiss. " What about some vacations ?" the ravenette proposed as his fingers moved towards Y/n's face. The short boy shivered slightly as Kiyoomi's cold fingertips touched his face with an undeniable carefulness.

" Great idea !" Atsumu agreed as he finally stopped the kisses on Y/n's neck only to let Kiyoomi kiss his forehead. " Y/n where do you want to go right now ?" The blond asked with a sweet smile adorning his face.

Y/n raised his head for his eyes to meet the setter's one who still had his pretty smile on his face. He was surprised with the question before suspisciously asking: " When are we supposed to leave ?" He wanted to know that before answering Atsumu's question.

His sudden question made the two volleyball players think for a bit before they look at eachother in the eyes and nod simultaneously. " After tomorrow of course." They said together.

They didn't let Y/n the time to protest or even to be stunned by the upcoming travel that Atsumu felt the need to add something. " And you take your vacation right now." he ordered, silencing Y/n's protest with a kiss.

" If your boss tries to decline your vacations then just leave." Kiyoomi suggested while grabbing the bowl full of fruit he had cut beforehand. " He owes you too much vacations anyway." He added as his firm voice didn't let Y/n any other choice than to accept his suggestion.

They were right anyways. It has been a long time since Y/n actually took vacations. Some days of vacations with his two loving and caring boyfriends won't hurt him.

" And, of course, you'll leave your money at home." Atsumu cooed in Y/n's ear, he didn't want his stubborn boyfriend to pay for a single thing during his well-derserved vacation. But Y/n only snickered at Atsumu's proposition, who sounded more than ridiculous in his ears.

" In your dreams." He said while letting Kiyoomi feed him his fruit salad. Atsumu sighed, forgetting about his proposition as he understood it was pointless to try to convince him. He wanted to spoil his hard working boyfriend and he will.

He will just hide Y/n's wallet and black card.

But Y/n doesn't need to know about his plan.

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way (Dark Ending): Going Under, Part 3

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Raider!Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

Spotify Playlist

Summery: After you give birth to Ellie in the cabin, Joel fins you and Tommy, besting Tommy in a fight. What happens to you? What happens to Ellie, Tommy, Lorenzo and the rest of the family Little One has acquired? How does Little One learn to cope with her new reality? Does she fall into the darkness that surrounds Joel and all he touches? Can Joel really change for you and your daughter?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH WARNING, graphic violence, murder, manipulation, the horrors, Joel being Joel, Tommy being kinda pathetic, Joel's weird sexual fantasies, breeding kink, abuse of power. Just.... all the bad.

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

For weeks it continued like that, Joel dragging you out of bed and making you go outside, play with Ellie, spend time with June and Tommy… all things that slowly improved your mood. Joel wouldn’t let you drown in your own misery and as much as you hated it, he really had become your lifeboat. 

Ellie was asleep in her bed as you stayed in the room rearranging her clothes and cloth diapers while muffled voices talked outside; Joel had just brought some back from a raid and you were deciding what was salvageable and what she’d fit into. At 2 months she was still very small, but you were setting aside clothes and diapers that she grew out of. Tommy said he’d figure out local women who were pregnant. You’d come to realize how many of the men who didn’t live in the raider house had wives and children… and it concerned you. What was the state they lived in? Were they treated better or worse than you? Were thy beaten and raped? Did they love their husbands? Did their husbands take care of them the way Joel took care of you?

You couldn’t help smiling at the pretty dress he found; he was particularly proud of that one. ‘Isn’t it pretty? It’s a little big for Dolly right now but she’ll look so cute when she grows into it.’

The voices grew and you realized it was an argument outside. Curiosity getting the best of you, you look outside to see Joel and June arguing with each other and Tommy in his signature peace-keeper stance. Joel looked angry although you couldn’t make out his words. Memories of how Lorenzo and Zach were slaughtered in front of you and all the ways Joel brutalized you, and you knew you needed to protect June. With a glance to Ellie to check he’s still asleep and breathing, you run outside to intervene.

“JOEL!” You shout, running around the house to try and get Joel to calm. He at least had some love and respect for you, didn’t he? He brought June here for you, so he must have some regard for her life and what it meant to you? He wanted to be a family, surely he’d spare his daughter’s aunt?

Joel didn’t look at you, shouting at June; something about her attitude and being tired of her muttering under her breath. June, in her part, called him a psychopath and delusional, insisting he would never have a normal family. Before you could reach them, Joel slapped her hard, causing June to get knocked to the ground and you to freeze in your place. You wanted to move. You did… but your body would not make the steps…

Quickly, you realized you didn’t have to.

Tommy was on Joel in a flash, decking him on the jaw with a cracking punch and making Joel stumble back.

“KEEP YOUR GODDAMN HANDS OFF MY WIFE!” Tommy screamed at his brother and you felt your eyes growing at Tommy’s sudden display.

Joel was undeterred, a punch to the jaw being far from the worst he’d felt. Stepping forward again, he spread his arms out wide, taunting him. “There he is! There’s the Tommy Miller I know!” A wide grin was on his face, Joel huffing out a laugh as he whipped the blood from his mouth. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, YOU FUCKING PUSSY!”

Tommy lunged at his brother once more, an anger on his face the likes of which you hadn’t seen before, not on your kind-hearted Tommy… You were starkly reminded here that Tommy Miller was a raider, Tommy killed, Tommy fought, Tommy tortured and you only ever had his word and Lorenzo’s limited understanding that he wasn’t a rapist. How much about him did you really know?

A full on fist fight ensued, the brothers shouting at each other as they did; Tommy yelling at Joel to stay away from his family, Joel largely egging him on, telling him to be a man. Why was he trying to get Tommy to hurt him? Joel was clearly losing, but it was also obvious his full strength was not being utilized. You had seen what Joel could do and were aware of even more. Joel could take on several men without aid. Joel could brutalize without a second thought; he’d done it to you, he’d done worse to Nick.

But this was Tommy, and at the end of the day no matter the horrors, Joel was a father and a brother, and that was the core of who he was. Joel’s psyche snapping was due to his loss of Sarah and his desire to have her back was at the basis of everything he’d done to you, good and bad. Hell, the whole concept of Joel being a raider was based around the need to protect and provide for the only family he had left. The violence enacted had been in the name of Tommy’s survival… until it all became so muddled that he survived only for the violence… and then came you, and suddenly there was something else to live for.

Tommy had the clear lead, straddling Joel and landing blow after blow on Joel’s face and for a moment you thought he might really kill him.

“TOMMY!” You scream, and you don’t know why. You should want Joel dead, you should want your freedom… but you weren’t entirely sure what your freedom looked like now. Once, you thought that freedom was with Tommy, being his wife, loving him, maybe even a few more children. You thought it was with Zach and Lorenzo. All of that was out of the realm of possibility now, and Joel was what you knew, Joel is what you had, and Joel was the main reason you had been able to tread water thus far. Joel kept your head above water. “TOMMY STOP!”

He was not listening, you look at June for her to say something… but it looks like she wants Tommy to kill him too. You weren’t sure if Tommy would or could kill Joel, but for every punch Joel got in Tommy got two and you didn’t want Joel to show his whole brute force either. You didn’t want either one dead.

You rush over to where the men fought, June telling you to stay out of it, and try to get in between them but Tommy shoves you away and you fall back. Joel takes the advantage of the distraction and uses his legs to roll Tommy and climb on top to rain down punches although significantly less strong. “YOU DON’T TOUCH HER!” 

Eventually you are able to pull Joel off Tommy, June running over to help him stand just as you do Joel, both men dripping in blood and sweat, panting heavily.

Tommy points at Joel, still panting. “Stay away from her!”

You can’t help but scoff from behind where Joel guards you with his body. 

That sound makes Tommy turn to you incredulously, all pretense having been obliterated in the bite of the Wyoming freeze-over. “What does that mean?” The harsh tone of voice was new to you, but you were not deterred, frustration with Tommy and all involved in this last year boiling over.

You took a few steps towards the man, bundled up in his signature blue denim jacket. “Really? Now you wanna step up?!” Voice raising, you step up to Tommy despite his tall figure towering over you. “Everything that happened last year and now you want to protect her?”

Tommy’s jaw ticked in annoyance; he tried to keep calm in regular Tommy fashion but the addrenlien from the fight was not helping matters. “I not like that-”

“BUT IT IS!” You shout, shoving him hard on the chest. “WHERE WERE YOU LAST YEAR!” Another shove, Tommy’s composure slipping from him by the second. “WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I WAS BEING RAPED!” Another shove, harder this time and making Tommy stumble back. “HE BRANDED ME! HE BEAT ME! AND YOU JUST WATCHED!”

Tommy’s own anger, the impulse control he had been carefully tucking away since the days of his youth was unleashed on Joel today, and he was not able to reel it back in time to stop himself from shoving you back. “SHE’S PREGNANT!”

When you walked back from the force of his push, you could hear Joel’s footsteps in the crunch of leaves below his feet and you held a hand up. This was between you and Tommy. “Are you fucking kidding me? How long did you wait to jump into be with her? A week? That night? Just because Joel said she’s your wife DOESN’T MEAN SHE-”

“IT’S NOT LIKE THAT!” He shouts back before stuttering on his words. “She- I-”

You laugh. “You what? You love her? YOU SAID YOU LOVED ME!” Your fist flies to your chest, pounding on your heart as you scream.

 Tommy whispers your name, but you turn to June standing helplessly on the sidelines; out of the corner of your eye you see Joel, ever-watching. You speak only to your friend, irrational betrayal flooding your system. She was a victim of this pyschological torture Joel created, but she had Tommy, your Tommy, and you felt… cheated on. Is this how Joel felt when he found out you had been with Tommy? 

“You're having his baby?” You wait until she nods in confirmation, and whatever else her lips had started to spill were cut off by your own words. “He tell you he was going to raise Ellie? When we ran away, he swore to me he’d raise Ellie as his daughter and now he won’t even hold her!” The tears that had began pooling in your eyes spilled over, and your voice weakened. “He was going to be her father, he told me he loved me, but he- oh my god.” The ache in your heart at a new realization made you double over as it began to manifest in a full-body reaction.

“Honey, please, it’s not-”

“You are so FUCKING PATHTIC!” You scream at him. “You had me thinking I was special, the whole time I was here and that whole time you were fucking Maria!” The way June turned to him, it seemed she didn’t know about Maria yet. “You lived with her for months and when I came you left her without another thought-”

“You needed help!”

“And you were never going to come back to her! You have the will power, the commitment of a bug, Tommy! You just join wherever is convenient, whatever is the new, shiny thing and then you just DROP ME!”

A blanket of silence enveloped the four of you, and slowly the strength you had faded. You feel small, used, helpless…

Tommy at least looks remorseful; maybe he is more aware of his nature than you think. “Honey…” He spoke softly, eyes pleading with forgiveness while Joel and June watched all this unfold in a vacuum. “She’s having a baby, I can’t- I gotta man up for her, just as I did when you were pregnant.”

“Why did I have to become pregnant?” You don’t even recognize your own voice as it cracks under the pressure of today and the crushing postpartum depression. “Wasn’t I enough?”

Tommy didn’t respond, he simply stood there with that guilt stricken look that had seared into your mind when Joel had you bent over the table at the beginning of all this. He just watched as you clutched your stomach and cried, a horrific silence allowing your sobs to echo in the open field until Joel’s arms wrapped around you. You jump; everything you had said had been said to Tommy, but Joel had heard it all of course… would he punish you for these feelings? But his touch was gentle around you, ushering you around the house and sitting you on the front porch steps. Tender, Joel attempted to pull you onto his lap but you resided him.

Joel gave you space, and lots of time until your tears subsided enough before he spoke. 

“I want you to be happy here, little one. I’m try’n, I’m trying so fucking hard to make this better. Tommy’s a cheat, but you're the only one that can make me happy, you understand that, don’t you?”

You nodded, believing him. Despite everything, Joel had tried. Joel was loyal to you in a way Tommy never had been. Joel’s hold on you was damn near obsessive. 

“I’m try’n. I’m fuck’n try’n. I want us to be a family, you me and Dolly. I want her to have a happy mom. I know I ain’t… I ain’t been the best. I’ve…”  Joel paused, and then with a breath he admitted his faults. “I’ve been cruel. I hurt you, and I don’t wanna be like that. What can I do? What’s it gonna take to make you happy? To make a good home for our daughter?”

You lift your head off his shoulders, the cool wind blowing on your wet face. “I don’t… I don’t know, Joel. I just feel… alone.” You begin to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Joel it’s just…”

“You can tell me, little one. It’s okay. I won’t punish you.”

His eyes are deep and pleading, he wanted so much for you to be happy, didn’t he?

“I feel like I have no one! Zach is dead, Lorenzo is dead, almost everyone who was there for me is dead and now June and Tommy have each other and I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t feel like this because you are my husband but… I feel like Tommy betrayed me, I feel like I have no one!”

Joel waited, allowing you to speak and showed no signs of anger at your words. “You have me”

“Joel…”

He kisses your forehead. “I’m here for you, to protect you, to provide for you and Dolly. I’ll do whatever you want, anything. We can leave, we can go somewhere else, start over, whatever you need, whatever it takes for our family.”

Joel was offering to start over, start a new life… is that what you wanted?

“Can I… Can I go on a walk? Think about it?”

Joel nodded briskly, helping you stand and giving you his flannel for warmth. You knew Joel would have one of his men trailing you but for the most part you took the time to be alone. No baby, no Joel, no June, no Tommy. Just you.

What did you need to be happy? Leaving Joel wasn’t an option… you had to make the best of what you had. Joel was right. Ellie deserved a happy home. Ellie deserved a happy family, including her aunt and uncle and little cousin. But Ellie also deserved safety. She deserved a sense of normalcy in her childhood. How do you provide that? 

You sit at the edge of a field, the single grave that held the bodies of Zach, Lorenzo, Jack and Maura was decorated with one headstone. Joel had done this for you as an act of mercy.

“I don’t know what to do.” You sob as you sit down on the grass. “I need help.” You pray for guidance, for some voice of your family to help you. Joel was giving you freedom, choices… you needed to take advantage of that.

It wasn’t until you felt your breasts swelling, telling you it was time to feed your daughter that you walked back up to the house. A golden shadow had been cast by the setting sun, breeze playing in the golden field Joel had been working on harvesting. As you came up over the small hill, you see him there on the tractor he had fixed up with Ellie on his lap. She was laughing… her first laugh. 

You fight the urge to run over, just watching your husband play with your daughter, a happy, healthy little baby despite it all. Joel was right; she was strong.

Joel turns to you when your dress rustles in the fields of gold, grinning wildly as he proudly announces- “She can laugh now!”

You return his smile with the same pride. “She’s such a good baby…” And she was. She really was. 

He continued tickling Ellie for a little just to hear that laugh a little longer before looking back to you more seriously. He still looked happy; he always looked happy around her, but there was still that worry in his eyes. “Did you have a good walk?” Joel asked sincerely.

“I did.” You move to sit on the tractor with him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I want to do this with you, Joel. I want our family, but there’s gotta be changes.”

Joel nodded vigorously, eager to do what it took to keep you. He always looked so young in these moments. “What is it, baby? I do anything.”

With a deep breath, the crisp air filled your lungs, and you exhaled your conditions. “First, I am free to go wherever and whenever I like, so is June, so is Tommy as long as you don’t leave leave.”

Readily, he agreed.

You lift your head up off his warmth to allow yourself to look him in the eye. This was the most important. “Second, you cannot hurt our family. I don’t care what June says to you, you can’t hurt her, Tommy, me-”

“I wouldn’t hurt you-”

“YOU HUNG ME THREE MONTHS AGO!”

That shut Joel up, and he gave a little nod. “Okay. I’ll stop.”

“Joel, this is the most important part-”

“I wouldn’t hurt Dolly”

“I’m not saying you would. But you can’t threaten or imply you will to manipulate me, and I need you to understand” You lean in close “I’m aware I can’t kill you. I’m aware you are stronger than me, but I swear to god, you harm my daughter and I will die defending her.”

To your surprise, Joel smiled. “That’s why I love you.”

And to your surprise, you smiled back. “Third. She will not grow up in a house full of strange men. Unacceptable. Considering that half of them were willing to rape me when I was barely out of my teens, that is asking for a problem.” Lorenzo had brought this up to you months ago, and it had been on your mind. Lorenzo died trying to protect you and Ellie, his input would not be in vain.

He seemed to consider this point. “I agree.”

“She needs a stable environment. June and Tommy” You take in a deep breath, still dealing with the mind fuck that the man you had loved was having a child with your best friend. “They’ll be having her cousin, and I know some of the men have children and wives… I want… something else. A community.”

His face falters just a bit but not in anger or disappointment, more frustration with himself. “We can’t go to Jackson… Marie won’t-”

“Not that” You shake your head. “Can we maybe… build houses around this one?”

Joel considers for a while. “There’s a town bout 30 miles north that was abandoned… had a small population pre outbreak, maybe 500 or someth’n. What if we moved there? Started a little town?”

You light up at that. “I would love that!”

“Gonna take a lot of work, little one. Organizing it all. I can’t take on all that, I still gotta do what I do…”

“I’ll take it on! I’ll set up everything, get a school going, a clinic, start farming, everything!” You were elated, bouncing in the seat as you thought of all you wanted to do. You’d talk to the women, learn their skills and abilities, their needs… Most importantly, provide for Ellie and the other children, including your incoming niece or nephew.

“I bet you will, little one.” Joel smiled fondly at you. “Gonna do so go. Is that it? Is that everything?”

You deflate just a bit…there was one more thing you wanted… but you weren’t sure he’d give it to you.

“There is… one more thing.”

“Anything, pequena, anything.”

You give him your softest, widest eye’d ‘please Joel’ look and ask. “I want her to be called Ellie.”

Joel hesitated. “Sweetheart, really? Is it that important to you?”

You nod. “It is, Joel.”

You watch as he purses his lips, moving his mouth in thought before he nodded. “Okay. Ellie.” Joel looked down at Ellie who had begun to fuss, climbing off the tractor and holding his hand to help you. It was time to feed her and put her down for a nap, then begin the evening routine. “Our Ellie June.”

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

I THIIIIIIIINK 2 chapters left?

How do we feel about Tommy? I mean, it's good he's finally stepping up but little one had a point. Wasnt she enough? This is a lesson y'all. If he wanted to, he would.

How do we feel about June? Personally, I think she'd doing what she can under her circumstances.

And Joel... suddenly so soft again.....

@pimosworld @rubyfruitjungle @moriartyyouwhore @k-ra @the-fox-den @jenna-ortega @alwaysmicado @lunar-ghoulie @ladynightingale @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @maura-honey @fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @miraclesabound @koshkaj-blog

[foibles-fables]

hehe hehe. 14. cara/kahlan, please

hello please have this it is very unpolished, i made myself write it in one sitting PLEASE EVERYONE CLAP. Post-"Perdition."

14. “I don’t think I should leave you alone right now.”

It's a hard world. Leo Dane's body burns on its pyre.

Cara takes a triple watch that night. The wizard didn't argue, but--of course--Richard had. Fought slumber as valiantly and stubbornly as he should be fighting the Keeper. But the exhaustion of perdition's magic won--he's sleeping like an infant, curled in on himself and breathing deep as a man saved from drowning.

She doesn't try to argue with Kahlan. Not anymore. To do so feels like a risk--of words, of intent. A risk of not meaning what she says. Or, worse: of meaning it too much. Last watch will be hers. Cara pretends it doesn't bother her. Inside, she boils.

They keep the night-fire to a pile of seething embers. Cara lets them sear her vision and then blinks up towards the star-swirled sky, concentrating on the coruscating afterimage. Tries (and fails) not to think about the day's loss. Of who she chose to shield (Nicci's dacra, halted in midair, the sound of Cara's own blood rushing in her ears), and who she did not (Leo, set alight, also for Kahlan).

Behind her shout of his name, there was a sick wash of relief. She'll never utter that aloud. (None of them will ever ask.)

Because Cara meant what she had said over his body moments before Kahlan let the torch fall. I do care about you. But she is learning that care is a complicated thing, one with knotted twists and sharp teeth.

Leo was a good man, a brave man. Aggravating, at times, but not enough to earn a punch to the throat. Witty enough to make her laugh and keen enough to pay attention. A decent enough fuck to distract her from what she really craves.

Maybe, if he had lived--maybe he would have stayed with them. Maybe there would've been more flowers, more sheltering from the rain. Something for Cara to bury herself in until she would stop dreaming of Kahlan touching her in the night. Something she could have when she can't have what she wants. Something that could somehow want her in return.

Smoke and ashes. A good man is dead, taken by the wind. Another reason for them (for Kahlan) to try to peer under her armor, to not like what they find there. The world is hard and care is relative. And Cara is just glad that Kahlan was the one who lit the pyre, not the one who burned.

Clenching her jaw, Cara prods at the embers. The stir of hungry light casts itself over Kahlan: awake, approaching. The blue of her eyes flares crystal in the low glow--those eyes that were made to pry into the truth of all things, trained steadily on Cara. Kahlan's gaze makes her want to hide. Kahlan's gaze makes her want to be devoured.

"It's not your watch yet," Cara points out when Kahlan sits beside her, close but not close enough. Her voice comes out on an edge, sharp but thick and husked.

Go back to Richard, she doesn't say.

Kahlan doesn't take the hint. "It's alright. I'm awake."

"Don't tell me to get some rest."

Kahlan smiles at her, all soft shadows. Cara finds her heart in her throat.

"Don't worry. I know better than that," Kahlan says. The smile changes into something else, then--not in shape, but in weight. "I just--I don't think I should leave you alone right now."

Cara doesn't try to argue with Kahlan. Not anymore.

The space between them is alight. Kahlan breathes, Cara sears. The world becomes a little bit harder still.

[lostwriter-sendrescue]

Moving out of Toxic Environments Is a Catch 22.

That might sound a bit off. but let me explain.

up until the fall of 2006, my father was a Logger for a small local logging company, mainly truck driver but he’d go and chop trees and replant too. my mother was a stay at home mom for a while, then worked in a little Piercing Pagoda stall in the local mall until it shut down, and then became a school bus driver. Our family was functional, but there were still headbutting between my older brother and father since, you know, oldest son VS sire things, but usually nothing between my father and mother than would make me feel uncomfortable or even unsafe. From about 2007 onward, things changed when my father left the logging company to work for an old school friend of his who had started up a construction company. At first, it was okay. then suddenly, my father would start arguing with my mother over money--bills mainly. (Let me explain quickly how school bus drivers get paid. They get paid monthly, not weekly. I think it’s the same for teachers too, but don’t quote me. My Dad was getting paid weekly. Mom’s money went towards the end of month bills/start of month bills, while Dad’s money typically went toward mid month bills and groceries, or anything for us kids.)

I had a little brother, and when these would start up, I’d take him up to my room, close the door, turn on a movie, and turn up the volume to drown out the shouts.

Also in this time, I started writing fanfics. I was fairly active in my writing, even if at this time I had very few things posted. It was kinda cathartic for me. by the time I was in high school, i had gotten a little better with my writing, and was actively posting on a couple fic sites. I also became a target for my father’s beer fueled arguments, problem was most of the time I yelled back because I didn’t want to let him think I’d stand for him treating me like a verbal punching bag.

The worse he got, the more depressed my mother got, and the more I ended up taking care of the house and my brother on top of doing chores and such. Which, if I was focusing on my schoolwork, I didn’t focus on much because you know, school was important. Which got me yelled at because mom would say I didn’t clean when Dad would yell at her, and he would yell at me. and I’d yell back that I was doing my schoolwork. He’d even almost cost me a laptop I had bought myself for school because I told him I was doing homework and he could do the dishes after dinner, and he threw a cup down hard enough on the keyboard that a few keys broke.

He then also started to play on equipment auction sites, as well as spending money on things he didn’t need of these sites...

2020 rolled around, I had been graduated for 8 years, but still lived at home with them because I was a working part time with shit pay, and had a form of major asthma problem pop up that was only taken seriously when my lips started turning blue because I couldn’t properly breathe. I was just getting that under control, when my 15 year old niece ended up living with us. I gave her my room in the house, and lived in the camper... which had me feeling a little more independent from everyone else despite it being a small space. even with it not being the most well taken care off maintenance wise before I had moved in, it gave me friend to make friends with people on the internet and talk to them on and off.

Then finally in 2021, my boyfriend and I moved out, moving into my neice’s father’s singlewide, which while not the most amazing place because his anger issues had caused lots of holes as well as his inability to properly discipline his oldest son, gave me freedom to actually drop walls that I had been forced to have from the previous enviroment I had. Downside? My mother knew where we lived, and would constantly show up to both hang out at noon between runs, as well as when dad threw her out for a week in February of 2022 because of the ever worsening money issues of him spending money they needed for bills and taking care of animals on the farm on the auction sites, and mom having to scramble to get the money from their join savings and her private one to pay bills.

Then because that brother that was the neice who moved in in 2020 decided we couldn’t live in the single wide anymore, so we had to move in with my Bf’s parents until we got our current appartment...

Between 2020 and moving into this apartment in october 2022, I was fairly active with my writing and had a good writing bug going. then, suddenly... my writing bug... died.

I have so many ideas I WANT to write, but I can’t figure out HOW to write them in a way that makes sense with the stories I have going on! I going in and add one or two sentences or go through and edit again for the umpteenth time. Or I help a friend and my bf with their stories.

But my own creative juice for my stories? Dry since I’ve gotten a place where I feel safe from my toxic family. Is this a thing?

[mattmurdocksscars]

Friends?!

Hey all! This is the first snippet of my Fratt x Fem!Reader series. As I mentioned in my other post, this isn’t going to be a cohesive fic, it’s going to be different snapshots into their lives. We’ll see various types of scenes so, as usual, this series is 18+. I hope you all enjoy this first part!

Warnings (For this part): Mentions of wounds and tending to them, cursing, three idiots arguing.

Both Matt and Frank were panting, the extent of their wounds finally catching up to them, as various criminals lay unconscious around them. Frank was sat on the ground, leaning up against the wall, while Matt limped over to him.

“Please tell me you know someone who can help, Red.” Frank muttered. The both of them needed medical care but wouldn’t be able to tend to their own wounds let alone the others. Matt tilted his head back and sighed, clouds of steam billowing from his mouth.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know someone. She’s not gonna be happy though.” Matt grunted as he helped pull Frank to his feet. Matt pulled the other man’s arm over his shoulder and the two of them began to hobble towards an exit.

“Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say she knows about you. Oh, and she only knows me as Daredevil, so please don’t ruin that for me.” Frank chuckled but nodded and then they were on their way.

~

The rhythmic thudding of your fists hitting the punching bag in front of you was almost drowned out by the music you were listening to. You’d been at it for some time now and sweat made your clothes cling to you. You were working through another round of punches when you heard your door close. There would only be one person coming to your house this late at night.

“D, that you?” You called out, working on unwrapping your hands. You also paused your music and realized that you were hearing two sets of feet in your house. You furrowed your brows.

“Yeah, it’s me and a, uh… friend.” That definitely didn’t seem right, so you tossed aside your wraps and walked to the bedroom door.

And promptly froze in the doorway.

There, standing in your living room was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and leaning against him?

Frank fucking Castle.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, D!” You began swearing a blue streak at the Devil who at least managed to look a little sheepish. The man beside him was equal parts amused and confused.

“Honestly? Honestly. You brought the fucking Punisher into my house. Him?! Of all people! And a friend? A friend?! You always pick the worst friends, D!”

“I do not, I-“

“He shot you! In the head!” You’re furious and Frank tries to ease the situation.

“To be fair-“

“Shut up!”

“I could always-“

“SHUT UP!” Frank damn near laughs as the both of you cut him off before going back to arguing with each other. He doesn’t miss the way you haven’t moved to kick him out yet though and finds himself trying not to smile. Instead, you move towards what must be a bathroom as you come back holding towels and a med kit. You and Matt are still bickering all the while, and Frank almost feels like he’s intruding on something more intimate than a simple argument. The two of you come to a break and you point angrily at your couch where you’ve set down some towels.

“Sit. Both of you.” Your tone brokers no arguments and so the two men shuffle over and sit down side by side.

“Which one of you is worse off?”

“Red.”

“Frank is.”

They both speak at the same time and you turn your head upwards as if beseeching a higher power. Frank has to try again not to laugh but then Matt speaks again.

“It really is Frank. His wounds are worse.” Frank shoots Matt a dirty look, one you ignore as you kneel in front of Frank. You look him over and assess the damage before getting to work. It’s oddly quiet as you work, neither men wanting to upset you. You work quickly, tending to Frank’s wounds with a efficiency that speaks to many nights of doing this before. Once you’re done with Frank, you move over to Matt.

“You know the drill, D. Off, except for your helmet.” Matt moves to unclasp his armor but when he goes to pull the piece over his head, he hisses in pain. Carefully, you reach forward and help him tug the chest piece up and off while being sure not to dislodge his helmet. Once that’s out of the way, you look him over and tut in disapproval.

“The two of you are a mess. You’re bad enough on your own, D. How’d this happen anyways?” You ask, working on taking care of Matt’s wounds. Frank is silent, unsure what Matt wants you to know, but Matt tells you everything. You listen closely as you work, nodding along to his explanations. Once you finish the last of Matt’s bandages, you lean back and wipe your forehead with your wrist. You take your gloves off next and drop them in the pile of dirty gauze that sits beside you.

“There. You both should be good for tonight. D knows the rules but since you’ve never been here before Castle, I’ll explain them. I patch you up, you stay and rest for a couple of hours. Just long enough for me to make sure you aren’t gonna die on me.” Frank opens his mouth to argue but you cut him off with a dark glare. “No. No arguing. You came to me for help, you follow my rules. You can leave a couple hours before sunrise.”

You stand and stretch, ignoring the discontent on Frank’s face, then start gathering up the used supplies.

“D, you can take the bed and Frank you can take the couch.” You tell them absentmindedly while you carry everything towards the trash. Immediately, both men start to argue.

“I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“This is unnecessary. Let Red take the couch and I’ll just leave.”

“Hey! No arguing.”

“But where are you going to sleep?” Matt has his hands on his hips in what you call his mom pose. He hates when you call it that but that’s exactly what it looks like.

“I’ve got a sleeping bag. I’ll sleep in my spare room, that way neither of you will bother me when you leave and you can sleep without your mask on without worrying about me seeing you.” Matt doesn’t appreciate that your logic is solid by the look on his face. Frank also looks displeased.

“I’ll take the sleeping bag, Red can take the couch, and you can take your bed. There’s no reason the two of us should get more comfort than you.”

“Except for the fact that you’re both injured and I’m not.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.” Frank grumbled, holding a hand out. “Give me the sleeping bag.”

You narrowed your eyes dangerously and stepped up to him. It didn’t matter that you had to tilt your head back to look at him, you were still a menacing sight.

“D takes the bed. You take the couch. I take the sleeping bag. No. Arguing.” Frank and you stared each other down for several moments before you both heard Matt sigh.

“She’s not going to back down. We may as well do as she says.” Even though you could only see the bottom half of Matt’s face, you could still see the exhaustion in him. You wondered when the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep was but brushed the thought off. He had made it clear that there was nothing between you two. If there was, he would have told you who he was by now. With that thought, you squared your shoulders and stepped away from Frank.

“Go to sleep you two. I’d say see you in the morning but you both better be gone.” Those were the last words you said before you disappeared back into the spare room you’d originally come out of. Frank turned and looked at Matt with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothin’ Red. Nothin’.”

As predicted, the next morning both men were gone. What was unusual was that you had been carried and placed back in your bed. In a moment of weakness, you buried your head into your pillow and breathed deeply, taking in Matt’s scent.

Maybe one day he would tell you who he was.

Maybe one day he would finally address the tension between the two of you.

But today was not the day and you had bigger things to worry about. Like the Punisher now knowing where you lived and accepting help from you. You shrugged though and got out of bed to begin the day.

After all, what were the chances you’d even see Frank again?

[celestialspecial]

These Beautiful Torments (Pt.9)

Recovering from the fight that has left him badly wounded both physically and mentally Billy tries to piece together the parts of his past. To remember who he is, or was, but it’s never that easy is it?

Warnings: Trauma, Depression, Smut (18+), Violence, Unplanned Pregnancy- Canon? We don’t know her. (If I missed any feel free to let me know)

The world was a blurring flash of lights, odd noises and reality seemed to flow down the drain as you moved. No. You were carried somewhere. You tried to move your body but it was no longer your body it seemed. Screaming. Karen’s? You weren’t sure. Your mind was flooded and you were drowning.

Images started appearing in your mind. Visions? No, memories. The past. What had you heard, before you die your brain brings up memories from your life to play back to you as a chemical reaction of some sort? Maybe that was it. Maybe…you were dying.

Billy. What about Billy? You wanted to thrash but you couldn’t, in a stupor of some sort. You could see him, the first moment you’d laid eyes on him. Handsome, sure, but something else. His dark depthless eyes held secrets, painful most likely, hidden under a well concealed laugh, a light dig or hidden joke. Feeling yourself drawn into his orbit, the smell of his cologne, the reverberation of his laugh, the silken texture of his hair. 

His hand wrapped around your waist, skillful and welcoming. The heat of his body so close in proximity to yours set your heart pacing beyond normalcy. He had looked down at you after you’d made a witty comment, pressing his forehead to yours.

You were begging no dying to be kissed. To feel every inch of him but before that you wanted him to breathe life into your body. He stood tall, stoic, a man of business and industry. Rolling with each punch Wall Street or a roiling investor shot his way. 

Dodging and weaving to the bitter end until he was on top without so much as an strand of hair out of place. No he was above that. No task too Herculean for him to lose his poise and stalwart strength, a ladies man through and through, money to burn and all the time in the world. Women wanted him and men wanted to be him, surely no one could do it better than THE Billy Russo.

You’d been dating a year, he was laying on your couch with you. Head buried in your lap, crying. You’d stroked your fingers comfortingly through his hair, soft cooing and sounds of affirmation to him as he broke apart in your arms. Holding him physically and emotionally. For the first time- maybe in his whole life, he felt safe. Bullets and terrorists he could handle, but looking into the mirror at himself, who he truly was, what life had given him, was too much.

Most kids had loving parents, didn’t go hungry, weren’t abused, life for whatever reason had chose to dealt him a shitty hand. Maybe he got that shitty hand cause he, in fact…was a shitty human. If we are all born equal that was a cruel joke to him, god thumbing his nose at humanity.

 You held him as he sobbed, hiccupped into your lap, seeing his tears staining your dress and feeling even worse. And you held him, tight. Because while your upbringings were different, you knew how he felt and for the first time maybe in his entire life being with you he was forced to truly take inventory of himself. You weren’t a bang and a quick lay. A wad of cash and an Uber home.

You’d take his suits to the cleaners, cooked his favorite meal, pressed your cold feet to his thighs in the early hours of the morning, you’d wait to watch episodes of a show together, but most of all you really truly saw him, without wishing him to be different. Sure you’d argue, disagreements occurred but it always ended and you two were better for it. 

And you’d run your fingers through his hair, letting him fall to pieces on your sofa as he could barely even explain his feelings, he’d forced them so far deep down for years that he didn’t even know what to label them most days. And you loved him all the while. Kissing his temple, rubbing his arms, allowing him to shake and show weakness. THE Billy Russo, that no one else saw.

You’d never stopped to think about yourself in a committed relationship, even less a mother. You’d gone to school, worked your ass off and in lieu of the real thing stuck with romance novels and juicy romantic comedies. It was safer that way. No broken hearts or disappointments. You’d be the fun ‘aunt’ to all your friends kids as you watched girlfriend after girlfriend get married and settle down.

 An aching part of you wanted that but felt it wasn’t meant to be. Billy, in your mind, was the perfect distraction. A man with a plan, who’d wine and dine you then drop you off at 42nd street with a town car to take you wherever you wanted and a satisfied feeling between your legs. Never in your wildest dreams did you see years of falling deeply and madly in love with every facet of the man himself.

The self assured businessman without a care in the world and the girl who turned up her nose at the slightest hint of getting in too deep. What a pair you two were. And yet you both found yourself in the magnetic pull of one another’s company, where you were weak he was strong  and vice versa. 

To see the icon of confidence stripped down to the young insecure boy that lay beneath tore off all of your reluctance, each excuse and reason for not going deeper thrown by the wayside. You found the solace  you’d been seeking in his arms, and he in yours. Each touch of his lips didn’t take away like you’d been lead to think, but rather gave back ten fold.

You’d been sitting in Central Park waiting for Billy to meet you with coffee and a sandwich from pret. In the meantime a nearby mother and her newborn had taken your attention. A small little girl in a pink onesie, giggling and blowing spit bubbles as her mother bounced her gently on her lap, tired eyes but a wide smile as her child, no more than a few months you guessed, shrieked with laughter after a peppering of raspberries on her belly.

“I want one of those.”

You jumped not realizing Billy had snuck up on you, coffee carrier and large brown paper bag of food.

“A playground?” You ventured, eyes scanning over everything in your eyesight, wondering if Anvil had some sneaky plans to buy up the whole park? Or if there was a Maserati hiding between the bushes you couldn’t quite see but your Hawk-eyed boyfriend could. He laughed loudly, handing you your coffee cup and taking a seat next to you, sliding close until your thighs were touching.

“No. A baby.”

You spluttered and coughed on your coffee, taken aback by the one answer you didn’t expect at all.

“No way” you wiped your mouth, half laughing half still coughing. He made his eyes go comically wide, running a broad hand over the length of your leg down to rest on your knee.

“You think I’m joking?” He asked, taking another swig of coffee, fixing you with an unreadable look. Your mind was swimming, trying to figure out how to respond, a small knot in your stomach forming. So you did what you did best, made a joke of it.

“And how are you gonna get one? Adoption is hard nowadays. Maybe you’d be better off starting with a dog, or better yet maybe a houseplant?” Trying your best to keep the playfulness in your eyes and in your smile. He saw right through your façade.

“Nu-ugh, I know what you’re doing.” The corner of his mouth twitched on the side, hand applying slight pressure to your knee as his forefinger traced circles over the side. “We could do it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, assuming to catch his drift.

“Billy, we HAVE done it. Every night for the past week in fact.” But when your eyes wandered up to meet his, they weren’t full of lust and desire, well maybe desire, but not the kind you thought he was insinuating. It was a deeper hunger, in his soul, pouring out of his eyes.

“I meant be parents.” He swallowed thickly and chased it with another mouthful of coffee before continuing. “We wouldn’t….totally suck.” At that you laughed brightly, letting it echo in the park.

“Wouldn’t totally suck. Yeah that’s something to aspire to.” All gaming had left his eyes, you’d seen him this serious before but never about something like this.

“No really. I think- I think maybe we should give it a shot.” Eyes bouncing back and forth , looking for words, “I love Frank’s kids and I…” a crease between his brows formed. “I want what he has.” There it was. Admission of defeat of the highest in the world of Billy Russo. You felt your heart fall, seeing him kick a stone by his foot, a foot in the highest quality leather shoes, wearing a suit of the finest material, perfectly coiffed hair and luxurious cologne. Armor in a sense. If he looked how every man wished they looked then there was no doubt that he yearned for anything.

You felt your resolve melting, covering his hand with yours, idly running a finger on the backs of his, trying to inject some source of levity into this solemn feeling moment. The baby across from you two squealed, clapping her tiny hands as her mother laid a blanket down for them both on the ground, taking out some lunch for them both. 

You felt misty, thinking of Billy laying on the dirty ground, maybe in an average t shirt, stained with baby food and eyes filled with happiness looking down at his own child, incomparable-to any type of joy he might’ve experienced in the past.

“Okay.” You said, eyes never leaving the little girl, looking up at her mother, her world. Billy shook his head.

“Okay. What?” He gaze was still cast downward.

“Okay…we can maybe try for a baby.” His head whipped up, searching your face for any sign of jest, or insincerity. “But..” his eyes lit up, realizing your weren’t kidding. “But!!” You giggled, pinching his side to reel him in. You held up your left hand and, wiggled your fingers in front of him. “This hand is looking a little bare. Maybe let’s discuss remedying that first?” Your bargaining chip, the give and take of a relationship, and something that you had denied it’s importance to your own self for so long, if he was willing to share his desires so could you, and without fear.

“Done. You’ll get your ring,” he lifted your hand to his lips, placing a lingering kiss to each of your fingers. Thumb, forefinger. “And your wedding.” Middle and Ring finger. “And then I get MY honeymoon gift.” Pinky. Gesturing to the mom and baby in front of you.

“You drive a hard bargain , Mr. Russo.” You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, growing ever wider by the minute. His hand gripped yours, pulling you closer to him, noses touching, eyes full of mirth and excitement.

“That’s not all that’s hard.” He wiggled his eyebrows, sending you into another fit of laughter at the absurdity this afternoon was turning into. “Hey! We need our practice.”

Your eyelids felt heavy, head full of cotton, and a sharp pain in your abdomen. Your stomach. That woke you up enough to blink, it was dark, cold, musty. Like a basement somewhere. You certainly were no longer in your apartment, trying to move but realizing your wrists were bound in front of you, scratchy rope itching at your bare skin, feeling a bruise on your shoulder and tasting blood in your mouth.

“We’ll look who’s awake.” Your blearily could make out a shape walking towards where you lay on the ground, large, in a button up top, one dead eye staring back at you. Rawlins. He knelt down to your level holding up the thumb drive you’d gone back to retrieve, waving it tauntingly in front of your face. “Ah ah ah, you’ve been a bad girl.” Pushing off his knees to stand back at his full height over you once more, “but I shouldn’t be surprised you ARE with the infamous Mr.Russo. He doesn’t like to listen either.”

A shiver ran down your spine, the enormity of your situation and how absolutely fucked you were sinking in. It must have shown on your face cause he only laughed at your expression.

“Where’s the disk?” A voice called out, another male, you gulped realizing it must be Bennett. The two men who benefited most from Billy’s predicament, the ones who needed all info of their dealings wiped clean. Rawlins responded without ever taking his eyes off you, “got it right here.” A devilish smirk, full of concealed rage and a man with a horrible plan you were sure.

He turned to move towards where the other voice had come, making to move before another voice chimed in.

“And now that we’ve got the drive, what do we do with her?” His scarred face took in your plight, too bruised and sore to move, the effects of the chloroform still weighing heavy on your head and movements.

“I don’t think she’s going to be much of a problem right now. Plus she’ll make the loveliest bait for our boy now won’t she? I mean you of all people know how that twisted head now works.”

“I sure do.” A female voice this time

- Krista.

The car screeched into the parking lot, Karen kicking the door open, barely able to breathe, her face streaked with tears of frusta down anguish as she bolted up the steps two at a time before swinging open the safe house door. Crumpling to the floor as her legs finally gave out, the adrenaline dropping for an iota of a moment before spiking again.

Frank and Billy both shot up from their seated positions rushing over to Karen. Frank grabbing her arm attempting to hoist her up and over to his chair.

“Where’s Y/n?” Billy asked, watching the door, waiting for you to rush in behind her. Karen s legs wobbled as she collapsed onto the chair, Frank taking in her cuts and bruises, an open wound on her leg, pants tore on the side and hit red blood gushing out. He jumped to the sink grabbing a damp towel and pulling off his belt to check if a tourniquet was needed.

“Where is she?!” Billy was frantic now, seeing the state of his friend didn’t bode well for your situation. Frank pushed him aside, getting to Karen, checking her wounds, realizing no arteries had been severed and the bleeding was probably enhanced from her physical strain to get back to them more so than actual injury. Karen gripped Frank’s shirt, eyes wider more fearful than he’d seen in so long, it actually made him pause long enough from his tending to her to grip her chin, holding it to realize she was shaking.

Billy was beside himself, running to the door checking the hall, then racing back, pushing frank out of the way, to get close to Karen.

“Karen, Please!” She felt the tears start to slide down her face again, lip wobbling as she tried to speak, throat hoarse from screaming.

“We were attacked. They have her. HE has her.” Rawlins. Frank swore, wiping a hand over his face. Billy pushed back, falling onto the floor, blood drained from his face. It was coming back to him, the threats, the warnings if he didn’t listen he knew who’d be on the chopping block, paying the ultimate price. He Roared in agony, scratching at his close cropped hair, covering his face, before bolting upright moving towards the door before Frank seized the collar of his shirt, dragging him back into the room.

“LET ME GO”

“WHY! So you can run out there and get your fuckin ass caught? So you can get tossed in jail and she can die?! Is that what you want? IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK IS GONNA WORK?!” Frank screamed at him, Karen’s shaking intensified from her seat. Billy fought the tears stinging in his eyes, refusing to let himself feel this weak, this helpless right now.

“I-I’m sorry. I s-should’ve fought harder - I-“ Karen sputtered from her seat, distraught, attempting to stand but her knees gave out and she fell back into her spot.

“We’re gonna find her. We’re-“ Frank was cut off when Karen's phone started ringing in her bag, dropped on the floor after she’d stumbled into the room. All three of them stared at the device as it rang once more. Billy made to move but Frank pushed him aside, walking towards the ringing. Picking up the phone like it was a rigged bomb before hitting accept and holding the phone on speakerphone up between them all.

“Am I speaking with Mr. Castle and Mr. Russo?”

“RAWLINS YOU SON OF A BITCH IF YOU-“ Billy shouted down the line before a tongue clicking noise came from the other end.

“I think you seem to forget who’s in charge. As a matter of fact this is exactly what happened to your friend with you…haven’t you learned your lesson?” Frank’s knuckles went white as he gripped the mobile tighter, a strained muscle ticked in his jaw.

“Your pretty lawyer friend has what we need. The thumb drives, the disks, the whole shebang as it were. If you give those to us then maybe I’ll let our captive here live.”

Billy gritted his teeth, hands fisted so tightly , half moon shaped indents from his nails cutting into his palms.

“And what about Billy?” Frank questioned, eyes flitting up to his former friend, watching as his contained rage was beginning to unravel.

“Billy has a lot of crimes to pay for, he’s killed so many people Frank, he’s held hostages, he even escaped a hospital threatening the life of his recovery therapist. That doesn’t sound like a man who can just go free.”

“You’re a fucking sick bastard you know that right? You don’t care how many people fall under you so long as you can keep doing your dirty dealings.” Rawlins laughed on the other end before responding.

“I just know how to work the system and get what I want, something you never learned. You give me all the evidence our Russo had collected over the years and we can…come to some sort of arrangement. Billy will of course be set to federal prison, if he isn’t given the death penalty, and the lovely y/n can go free, to have her baby and move far away where people won’t know who the father is.”

“I’m gonna kill you.” Billy ground out, dark eyes wild, furious, deadly. 

“You can try, and what if you succeed? Will it be worth it, if she’s dead?” Frank took in his friend who had looked so dangerous, so angry half a second before, watching the fight drain out of him in a nanosecond, realizing they were trapped. That this wasn’t a cut and dry situation.

“Where do we want to meet?” Frank asked, letting a rush of air out of his chest, mind working on something, anything.

“No no no. There is no WE in this. Billy will meet us. Alone.” Frank took in a breath to respond but before he could Billy interjected.

“Fine. Tell me where.”  

[cjsinkythoughts]

Right From Left

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3085

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo being a punk, Bucky getting a little scary, some feelings, Sam being his fantastic, amazing, caring for everyone self

A/N: Here it is! At long last! I’ve been waiting for this episode and it was…holy fuck. I barely have words. And I can’t start or else I’ll be ranting for pages. Anyways, I know this Part is a little on the shorter side - not by much, but it still is - and it doesn’t even cover half the episode, but I’ve had a long day and I’m tired, so I’m going to sleep. I wanted to stop before Walker entered the picture too, because then I’m just gonna get more riled up and I’m working later. I’ll probably have another part out today, and then I’ll finish it tomorrow. Unless I can finish it today. I’ll try, but no promises.

Feel free to rant to me about the episode or the show, too, guys! My friends and I have been going back and forth about it for the past few hours. I’d love to hear your thoughts! I think that’s all for now.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS BELOW CUT!

You were avoiding him.

When you first got to Latvia, he had pulled you aside, eyes wide and pleading. “Doll, listen-”

“I really don’t think right now is the time to have the discussion we’re about to have.” Shaking your head, you avoided his gaze, your stomach twisting into knots. It was too much for you to handle; you couldn’t focus on the mission at hand and try to unravel the emotions that were making your gut flip like a gymnast. There were too many thoughts in your head, and you needed a clear mind.

“But-”

“Once this is all done, and our lives aren’t in danger. Once we’re back home, then we can talk, okay? Just…please. Not here. Not now.”

And he dropped it. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it. You just couldn’t. You had always been a ‘leave your baggage at the door’ type of person. Don’t mix work with personal. Not like you had much “personal” anyways when you first decided that was how it should be. And then your coworkers became family and your motto got a lot harder to follow. But you still followed it. And you would continue to follow it.

But that made you start avoiding him. Whether you meant to or not, everyone noticed, but no one said anything. Sam shot you a look when you didn’t offer to go with Bucky when he had to check something out. Zemo raised an eyebrow when he came back and, instead of immediately questioning him, you sat still on the couch, eyes glancing up briefly, before going back to playing with the strings of your hoodie.

You were paying attention to their conversation, especially when Karli Morgenthau was brought up, you just didn’t join in. Not even when Zemo mentioned the Avengers, eyeing you to see your reaction.

Honestly, you were tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Your shoulder hurt, your brain couldn’t process what the guys were talking about, and your heart couldn’t take any more hits.

It was something you’d been thinking about…you just thought it’d come after this mission.

“She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her…or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The Serum never corrupted Steve.”

For the first time since he first walked in, your eyes met Bucky’s. “Touche.” Zemo pointed at Bucky with a pastry around his finger. “But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

But you couldn’t wait until after this mission. Not when he was so connected to it. “I think I’m gonna go home.” You blurted out before Zemo and Bucky could argue further, Bucky slumping down onto the opposite side of the couch.

The moment the words left your lips, Sam and Bucky shot up, staring at you in disbelief.

“Wait, hold up. What? Now? We’re so close-”

“Why? Is it your arm? Is it hurting? You should’ve told us-”

“I’m just tired.” You cut in, shaking your head. “That’s all. I didn’t expect this to be drawn out this long when you called, Sammy.”

Bucky’s hand twitched as he hesitatingly scooted closer to you. “Doll, if this is because what happened on the jet-”

“It’s not, Buck.” You tried to give him a convincing smile, but you knew by the look in his eyes that he didn’t buy it for one second. You reached over to squeeze his hand, and when you pulled back, he held on tighter, a sigh escaping his lips as he stared down at your linked hands.

“Okay…if you wanna go home, we can get you home. Just…” His head turned back to you, a pleading pout on his features. “Just…stay. Another day. Please. You can keep avoiding me, I won’t even say another word to you if you don’t want. But stay. Just for one more day.”

Chewing on your cheek, you finally nodded slightly. “Okay. One more day.”

His eyes lit up, before his face fell again when you took your hand back and curled into the corner of the couch. “Let’s talk shop, boys.”

“Okay. So, from my understanding, Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?” Sam easily changed the topic back to the situation at hand, giving you a reassuring wink when you smiled at him gratefully. “So when I was a kid, my Tee Tee passed away.”

Bucky screwed his face up in confusion, straightening his head from where he had it leaned back. “Your - your Tee Tee?”

Sam gave him a look. “Yeah. My-my Tee Tee, yeah.”

Bucky looked at him weirdly. “Who is your Tee Tee?”

The exchange made you giggle a little bit, shaking your head. “Bucky’s a city boy from the 40’s, remember, Sammy?”

“Fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “When I was a kid my aunt passed away.”

Bucky gave a slight huff, making you chuckle again. You stopped when he smiled over at you, but your grin didn’t leave your face. Even when they were the ones to give you a headache, your fellas were damn entertaining, that’s for sure.

With a sort-of plan in place - the gathering for Donya being no more than a theory, but the only idea you really had - you stretched out from your spot on the couch, twisting to crack your back. “Zemo.” The man stopped his rummaging through the cabinets and looked over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised. “Go put some clothes on. We’ve got work to do.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, opening his mouth, but Sam beat him to the punch. “Do as the lady says, man. You’re already walking on a tightrope after you shot Nagel!” Zemo waved dismissively at Sam’s exclamation, heading into a separate room to change out of his robe. “That guy is gonna drive me up the wall.”

“Don’t let him get to that pretty head of yours, Sammy.” You hummed, standing up, wincing slightly as you stretched your sore shoulder over your head.

You could tell Bucky wanted to say something, the way he snapped forwards, hands moving down his thigh like he was leaning over to reach for you, his eyes locked on your injured joint, but, just as he said earlier, he didn’t say a word. But the part that made you upset was…you didn’t stop him. You didn’t tell him it was okay for him to talk to you. You didn’t reassure him that you weren’t purposely trying to avoid him. You simply moved over to the kitchen to get something to drink.

It hurt worse than your shoulder, but you couldn’t handle it. Not then. Not with such an important part of the mission coming up. So you didn’t say anything. You just sipped your water, switching into tactic mode as your mind ran through the scenarios of what could possibly go down in the next 24 hours before you went home.

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

Walking under the arch, you couldn’t help but feel saddened as Zemo told you about what the courtyard used to look like. Thanos messed the world up so much more than you realized and, as much as you hated to admit it, the Avengers did have a part in it. Not that they - you - were in the wrong, necessarily. You truly believed you did what anyone in that situation, with the skills and abilities and knowledge the team had, would do what you did. Or tried to do.

“I’m gonna take a look around upstairs.” Sam stated, looking up at the upper stories of the building, before glancing at Bucky. “See what you can find out here. And keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll come with you.” You said, turning on your heel to follow Sam. The back of Bucky’s gloved hand brushed against yours, and instinctually you turned your palm to link your fingers and squeezing. You let go quickly once you realized what you were doing, nearly tripping up the stairs to get to Sam, not daring to wait for Bucky’s reaction.

“You’re an idiot.” He stated simply as soon as you met him at the top of the stairs.

“Can we focus on finding Donya right now, please?” You grumbled, moving forwards cautiously, peeking around the corner. You frowned when you saw two guys at the end of the hallway, looking back at you and Sam warily.

“You need to hear what he has to say, cher.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I know I do. I know. But I can’t. Not right now. I’m just trying to get this over with first. I don’t want too many things on my plate. I might choke.” It already felt like you were drowning most nights.

He paused at your words, giving you a once over, before nodding. “Okay. I can respect that.”

“Thank you.” You told him earnestly. “Now let’s try to get something from these people.”

He nodded in agreement and you two continued forwards with your search. Room after room, people walked out before you could get anything from them, locking doors behind them. The Flag Smashers logo was everywhere, but you expected nothing less from a refugee camp that practically worshipped what they were doing.

Even when you did get a guy to talk to you, he immediately shut you down, leaving you and Sam dejected. The fact that the world had gotten so bad that these people couldn’t trust you and Sam - Avengers; people who used to be heroes and bring hope to others - it made your heart sink.

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“Are we wrong?”

He froze at your question, his lips pressing together. “About what, exactly?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…I guess I can’t tell right from left anymore. I always assumed that the Avengers were the good guys. That the actions we’ve taken in the past were us making the world a better place, but…Sokovia and Ultron. Germany and the whole civil war thing we had going on. The entire world and Thanos. We don’t truly ever win. Do we?”

“I can’t answer that for you.” Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you what to believe or who to believe in. But I can tell you that we’ve made a difference. Steve, Nat, Tony…they made a difference.”

“But was it a good difference? Was it a change? There’s a difference between changing the world and just making it different, Sam.”

He blinked at you, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. And I don’t have that answer for you either. But they tried. They did what they thought was right. No matter if it was or not. And isn’t that all we can do? Try?”

His words made you think back to the conversation you had with Bucky once he learned about John Walker, which seemed so long ago. When you told him it wasn’t Sam’s fault. That he was just trying. That he did what he thought was right. 

And maybe he was wrong. But he made a decision. It was his decision. To do the right thing. And right then, not for the first time, you could see exactly what Steve saw in the man in front of you.

“You’re a good man, Sam.”

Sam grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders and squeezing. “And you’re an incredible person, Y/N. Let’s go see if Bucky and the Baron got anything.”

You snickered at his mocking tone towards Zemo and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

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

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like it one bit. So far, Zemo kept proving you wrong. Even when it seemed like he was about to jump ship, he came back. No matter how many opportunities he had to escape, he never did. And it was making you even more suspicious.

You stayed out of Bucky and Sam’s conversation, although you had to agree with Sam’s point, especially with the conversation you just had.

Your thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, only to be interrupted by Zemo information about the funeral this afternoon. Guess a snake will always be a snake.

“And you, uh, didn’t think this was important information?” You questioned, eyes narrowed and brow pinched.

He shrugged. “You have it now, don’t you, princess?”

Bucky growled at the nickname, leaning back on the couch, threatening Zemo with the Dora Milaje.

You can’t remember a time you’ve ever been scared of Bucky. Maybe a little threatened and intimidated by the Winter Soldier, but never scared of Bucky. And when he stood up after Zemo mentioned leverage, you didn’t expect anything from it; maybe another choke hold or something. So the glass hitting the wall, the clench in his jaw as he spoke gruffly to the Baron, for a mere second, he kind of frightened you. Maybe it was all the emotions you’d been through the past few weeks or maybe it was the adrenaline that seemed to be pulsing through your veins 24/7 nowadays. Whatever it was, it made you flinch, bolting up as Sam did.

You left the room quickly, hearing Sam say something about making a call, hoping to calm your racing heart.

“Doll?” You sat up from the bed you were laying on, legs hanging off the edge. Bucky stood in the doorway, nervously shifting his feet. “I know I said I’d leave you alone, but…”

You gave the bed a pat next to you and he gladly accepted the invitation, padding over to sit besides you. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Buck. You’re my best friend. I-I just need to take it one thing at a time right now.”

He nodded. “I get it. I wasn’t…I wasn’t coming in to talk to you about that. You said we’ll talk about it later, so we’ll talk about it later.”

“I appreciate that, Bucky.” You smiled at him, before frowning. “What did you wanna talk about then? Are you okay?”

“Did I…did I scare you?”

You blinked at his question, tilting your head. “What?”

Jerking his head to the doorway he explained, “just then. With Zemo. Your heart spiked.”

“No.” You answered immediately. You would never ever admit that he kind of did scare you. It was just for a second and you knew how his brain worked; he’d beat himself up over it, go over his actions for hours instead of getting the rest he so desperately needs and deserves. He didn’t need that on his conscience right now. “I wasn’t - I just…you startled me. I wasn’t expecting that reaction-”

“I didn’t like the way he talked to you.” He spat out, glaring at his hands in his lap. “And then the smug bastard thought he was gonna get away with holding back information like that and I just…I dunno.”

His hand came off his thigh, but he hesitated. Before he could put it down again, you slipped your hand under his, linking your fingers, running your thumb in circles against his palm. “Don’t let him get to you, Buck. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

A sigh left his lips and he nodded. “I know, I know. It’s just…hard. After everything he put me through - put us through - I…I just hate that he’s really our only option.”

You frowned, shifting on the bed to face him, one leg bending beneath you while the other still hung over. “Why are you so obsessed with catching these guys?”

“I wanna do something right.” He murmured, playing with your fingers. “I’ve done so much wrong…I just wanna do something right. And I feel...responsible for it, I guess. In a way. It’s Super Soldier Serum. I thought I was the only one after Steve…” He froze at the blonde’s mention, giving you a side-eyed glance. You nudged him, silently telling him to continue, that it was okay to talk about him. “And Sam’s right, you know. She’s just a kid. So…I dunno. I wanna help. I wanna do something right. And catching them would help. It’s right. Right?”

You nodded firmly. “I understand where they’re coming from. Karli’s just trying to help the world. But she’s doing it wrong. And that I know for absolute certainty. Which is good, I guess. I was talking to Sam early and I mentioned not knowing my right from my left recently. It’s good I know something, huh? And for you it should be easy telling your right from your left.” You joked, tracing the gold lines on his metal arm. “I guess you’re just gonna have to stay besides me to help me remember.”

Looking up, you found Bucky staring at you with something you recognized in his eyes, but didn’t want to name. “Three hours, forty two minutes and thirty one seconds.”

“What?”

“That’s how long I didn’t talk to you. It was too long.”

You sighed, ducking your head. “Bucky, I’m sorry-”

“I’m sorry. For anything and everything I’ve ever done wrong. I won’t mention the plane or anything we’ve talked about until you bring it up first. I promise. Just…just don’t ignore me anymore? I'm not sure I can handle it for much longer.”

You nodded, watching your fingertips dance along his scruffy jaw. “I won’t.” He caught your wrist, opening his mouth, before shaking his head and closing it. “What?”

He shook his head again. “Not until you bring it up.”

“We will talk, James. I promise.”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I really do. It’s okay. As long as we’re okay for right now, I can hold it in a bit longer.”

You nearly asked him what he was holding in, but you quickly shoved the question out of your mind, knowing it would take you down a conversation you couldn’t possibly have right then. “How long do you think we have?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Zemo just said that it’s this afternoon. Why?”

“I started reading The Great Gatsby on the plane. I’ve got it on my phone. It kinda reminds me of you. Do you-do you think we have time to read some? Only if you want, I mean. Like we used to do in Wakanda?”

He grinned and nodded, scooting up on the bed and flopping down into the pillows. You smiled back, following his lead. Once you were comfortable, your phone out with the chapter you were on, Bucky scooted closer, laying his head on your stomach, hugging your waist. 

“Is this okay?”

Your fingers found home in his hair and you nodded when he looked up at you for an answer. “Yeah. It’s perfect, Buckaroo.”

[getosubaru]

come home

pairing: nanami/gn!reader

warnings: angst, arguing, thoughts of death, shibuya; small text only for summary; not proofread

summary: a fight with nanami brings old fears back to the surface

wc: 765

You knew he could be mean. The blunt edges of his personality were not foreign to you, not when they were the reason you struggled to get close to him in the beginning. Cold, unfeeling, formal. It wasn't some deeply held secret he kept from you.

Still, sometimes his cruelty stole your breath like a blade to the chest.

"Then I just won't come back!"

You didn't even hear the door slam as he left. He meant not returning to your apartment, of course. The mere idea of not seeing him at night brought up the old fears: a call from Itadori at 3 in the morning, Gojo pounding on the door, or worse–no one noticing until you woke alone.

Panic it up your nerves, forcing you off the couch and reaching for your phone. No texts. Not out of the ordinary when one of you was on a mission, but it stings all the same. Kento didn't say where he was going, so your only option is Gojo. Once you establish that dismemberment isn't off the table, he tells you easily enough.

It's not far. Some dilapidated factory that once specialized in textiles. The afternoon rush hour clogs the train carriages and sidewalks. You barely keep yourself from pushing through the crowds and sprinting until you're free of them. All these people going about their daily lives like a small handful of humanity's "blessed" didn't risk life, limb, and worse to keep them safe. Content to let their emotions spiral into monsters for others to clean up. It's a wonder only Geto is the only one who left. Kento finds you before you find the warehouse. Aside from his loosened tie, he looks like he's done nothing more taxing than paperwork. He startles when you come into view, panting from bolting through the industrial complex.

"What–"

You crash into him before he can finish, simultaneously clutching him close and smacking his chest. "You're such a fucking asshole."

"Love–"

"No!" He's made of actual brick, considering how your fist throbs after you land a punch to his chest. "Don't act like you weren't completely out of line, Nanami. Throwing shit like that in my face was fucked up."

Kento forces you back by the shoulders where your hands can't reach him. With his glasses on, he's almost unreadable. Anyone would look at the hard set of his jaw and flattened lips and think anger. His tells are more noticeable to you; the pinched brow and open posture say worry.

"Tell me what this is about," he says, voice low and stern.

"'Then I just won't come back'," you scoff. The rage bubbling in you tempers to hurt, glossing over your eyes with tears and making your lips tremble.

Clarity overtakes Kento's expression before he softens. The grip on your shoulders shifts to him pulling you into his chest. "Oh, sweetheart..." His arms bind you in tight, keeping you against him even as you struggle to hit him again.

"You can't just say shit like that," you mumble. The hands gripping his jacket shake. "Not in our line of work. It's not fair."

He kisses your temple slow, more for the skin contact than anything. Bergamot, leather, smoke, and rain. You picked his cologne out yourself and would know it anywhere. It turns sweet on his skin after an hour or so, mixing with his personal chemistry and leaving you addicted. It smells like safety, like home. You let yourself drown in it a bit before you realize he's talking.

"I'm so sorry, my love. I didn't think. I'm sorry," he repeats into your ear.

You relax against him, arms wrapping around him to toy with the handle of his blade. It's starting to rain and the sun has fully set, but neither of you make to leave. Kento pulls back enough to look into your eyes, glasses tucked into a pocket.

"I will always come home to you." His dark eyes are as serious as ever with a pleading undercurrent you've never seen. "I will always come back to you, love."

You let yourself believe him as he kisses you and apologizes again. On Halloween night with a ring on your finger and a naginata in your hand, you make him keep his promise by slashing a fiery cursed spirit to pieces before it could blow. He overpowers the patchwork curse and returns to your side with a kiss on your forehead. There are hours before you can safely leave the area, but he keeps his promise every step of the way.

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our little love part 2 - mafia/yandere au Drabble {angst + fluff}

As always please let me know what you think, I am actually going to go to bed now my brain is angry with me for not sleeping.

It seemed the cycle was never ending, you fucking up and pissing them off, them punishing you by drowning you in their love, only letting you come up to breathe so you could swim in your own guilt and submit to them.

You wince as the victim to your latest fuck up gets another blow to his chest. Taehyung and Hobi held onto his arms as Jungkook and Jimin kick and punch the poor individual. You know not to speak, it’ll only make things worse. Temperament was a fickle thing in their lives, trust was everything, and you still had to build yours up again.

“Y/n help please,” Kai whimpers as you stood with your arms crossed looking away.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Jungkook growled before punching your ex colleague in the face. You’re frowning, the need to beg them to stop was fighting for exit on the top of your tongue, but you bite it down and pray Kai doesn’t say another word. You know if you do as he asks they’d kill him. Your punishment was to watch silently.

Yoongi strolls up behind you, hands in his pockets before he rests his head on your shoulder, watching the display in front of you both.

“Nothing to say little love?” He whispers as your friend groans out in pain.

Please don’t kill him, you want to say, but you just shake your head in defeat. You want to believe they’re better than this, but the evidence of the contrary was never hidden from you. They showed you every side of them whether proud of it or not with bold eyes daring you to stop loving them, pushing your boundaries and morals waiting for you to snap. But the breaking point never came, you loved them, you shouldn’t and you knew it, but you did. You were completely and utterly theirs, yet still they treated you like you hadn’t seen the worst of them. Like you would run away the second you realised they were monsters, not that they would let you run far, only far enough to let you take a single breath before making you drown in them once again.

Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, keeping an eye on your reactions. The asshole deserved it, not that they cared either way, he tried to take you away from them, that was enough.

Kai was your old partner before you took a very early retirement, what you didn’t know was that he continued the case you were working on before you left; the case of the seven men you now loved and the reason you quit said job. He had called you to meet up for old times sake and you, very naively in Yoongi’s mind, decided it was harmless. But if it was harmless why didn’t you say anything to the boys? You thought Kai didn’t know the reason you handed in your resignation, but he had been keeping an eye on you all before he realised you were the key to their downfall. He knew you harboured some feeling for him in the past and thought you’d reciprocate when he tried to flirt his way into getting his hands on the evidence you collected, he didnt know you burned it all. You lied to him and said you lost it, same difference anyway. This prompted plan b from him.

“Y/n they’re criminals,” he had said to you. “You’re a cop at heart you can’t love them.”

You floundered at his words when you realised he knew, and yet he still asked you to betray them.

“Kai I think I need to go...”

It was a mistake, you knew it then, but he followed you out onto the street and you hoped tonight the men you loved weren’t keeping an eye on you. Maybe naive was an understatement.

“Are they coercing you Y/n! Do they have something on you or are they threatening you?” He calls after you. “Because the Y/n I know would never love killers, what have they done to you?”

It was when he reached his hand out to grab your arm that your boyfriends decided to show themselves from the shadows. Which lead to the situation now, Kai beat up and bruised beyond recognition, and you forced to watch. He falls unconscious and they let him drop to the floor, you hate this side of them, it was cruel and cold but you’d never leave. They turn to face you now, their anger still present despite the last hour of releasing it onto your old partner. They don’t miss the way you’re shaking, the shallow breaths as you try and keep your tears to yourself. As much as you hate their violence, you hate their disappointment in you more.

——————————————————————————

You’re sitting in Joonie’s lap for what you call the debriefing of your punishment, this happened way too often in your opinion. You look down but he wasn’t having it today, tilting your head to look at him by your chin.

“Why did you get punished today little love?” He starts the same way as usual.

“I went out without telling you guys where I was going or who with,” you say while fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“And?” Hobi sits across from you in a chair, legs straddling the back and an elbow rested on top with his fist holding up his face. Hobi was hardest to pacify, he was ruthless and unforgiving and while that didn’t extend to you, you still had a hard time with his stubborn anger.

“I met up with Kai, and I let him touch me,” you’ve done this too many times before to not know how it worked. Kai’s ‘touch’ obviously meant nothing to you but for them it was the worst crime anyone could commit against their little love.

You remember the time you nearly tripped in the park and a guy steadied you politely, but you still had to hold Jungkook back from throwing hands.

“Kookie would you rather I fell and hurt myself?” No he hadn’t wanted that so he grumbled in agreement still seething but you cooled it down. “Instead of hitting him maybe you should thank him,” it was a joke but it made the youngest scoff.

“Baby girl why can’t you just be good?” Namjoon’s sigh brings you back to the present. “Why do you always have to test us like this?”

You didn’t mean to, you want to say it but the words are stuck below the sob in your throat. You actually whimper as his tone, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. He hadn’t even told you off properly, but you already felt like a mess as he bathed you in his disappointment. That was the common consequence of your actions and you hated it, you couldn’t do anything right.

——————————————————————————

“Jin do you need help with the food?” You ask your eldest boyfriend politely, he was frowning and you thought it was because today’s meal was too much for him to handle alone, his tone of voice made you realise it was because of you.

“No, I’m alright,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks and you’re left gaping at him like a fish. Jin loved it when you cooked with him, it was your bonding time without the others, although Yoongi would join you from time to time. The others also tried but Jin wouldn’t let them anywhere near the kitchen, they hogged you enough anyway.

You feel your soul deflate, still standing there as he ignored you.

“Are you mad at me too?”

The way you said it made his heart twinge with guilt, but the others were right you wouldn’t learn and your first betrayal was still fresh on their minds. He sighs and you turn away, refusing to crying in front of them for the tenth time that day. What was wrong with you? Ever since that day where they found out who you really were you felt like you werent enough anymore, you tried so hard to make up for it all but you kept messing up. You weren’t like this before, but after seeing the hurt you put them through you were constantly on edge and second guessing yourself. You wish you could go back and stop them from ever finding out.

Jin hears the sniffle as you walk away and he can’t go through with it.

“Wait little love,” he calls for you. “I forgot to cut the onions, would you mind?”

You shake your head, you didn’t mind, but you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you. Youre grateful to Jin for giving you this task, it hides the fact you’re crying, but you know he doesn’t miss it.

——————————————————————————

Jimin and Taehyung were giving you narrowed stern gazes through dinner, it put you off your food which resulted in getting told off by Jin just after he branched out to you in the kitchen.

You felt alone, like the seven men you loved were against you and there was no one to blame but yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly before getting up and removing yourself from the dinner table and dining room, ignoring all of their stares. You decide maybe an early night is best, you could start again fresh tomorrow. You don’t get too far up the stairs before a hand pulls you back, you turn to see Jimin with Tae a few steps behind him.

You’re so used to seeing them laugh and play around that it feels like you’re looking at different people. Even during missions or gun fights, the youngest three were always joking their way through the bloodshed, keeping scores of who got the most headshots and other grotesque games. You remember the time Jimin and Tae called you during he middle of a shoot out, arguing with you and each other over who you loved more out of the two while you begged them to not get shot or killed.

“Why did you go see him Y/n?” Jimin asked, he wore the demeanour he used for enemies and it takes you back to that night.

“I... h-he said he wanted to see me to catch up,” you explain but you know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

“And you thought that was a good idea, to see your old cop buddy?” His tone makes you feel stupid, you weren’t stupid.

“He was my friend Jimin,” you say in disbelief, you know in the end it was a mistake but at the time it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You’re ours,” Taehyung moved forward, towering over you even though he’s a step below you. His face is close to your own, eyes burning into yours as he looks disgusted at the words that left your mouth as if they’re still attached to you. “How do you think we felt when you went to see another detective? Do you have any idea what was going through our heads?”

“Tae I love you,” you lean away from him, searching his face for a hint of softness and love in his gaze, but there was only fire. “You know I wouldn’t, you all know I wouldn’t, I left that life for you why would I turn back to it?”

He stalks away from you without a word, Jimin close behind, giving you a final cold glance before leaving you alone. You thought your love could make them better but if anything you made their darkness worse.

——————————————————————————

Jungkook needed to vent, the only way he knew how was physically. Obviously it wasn’t the cleverest thing he’s done, taking rounds with the punching bag only to open up the cuts on his hand from beating the bastard earlier. He mutters a few curse words under his breath, why did you make matters worse? Maybe they were being harsh on you before today, finding any excuse to punish you a little, test your boundaries and see if you would run, but today they honestly feared that was what happened. They thought you chose to leave them and go back to the life you had before them, but they’d never let you go, they couldn’t let you go. Despite everything you loved them and they worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything for them now, there’s be no point to any of them without you. Why didn’t you understand that?

He throws another punch to the bag, spreading his blood across them, it hurt like hell, but the thought of you running back to your old partner still played on all of their minds. He wanted to cry, he wanted to find you and beg you to never leave them, they’d be nothing without you.

There’s a knock on the door and he finds you on the other side, waiting for permission to come in. You never waited for permission, it makes him frown, maybe they were too harsh on you today. He could see you shuffling your weight, insecurity screaming through your eyes, you feared his rejection more than his anger.

He notices the first aid kit in your hand, you must’ve heard him. He doesn’t let the fluttering in his chest reach his face as he sits on the bench, waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze is expectant, daring you to cross the threshold and face him, you were no coward, you didn’t fear them the way others did, why were you behaving so meekly now? You force yourself to move and sit beside him, setting the kit down and pushing your hair back behind your ears. He doesn’t move his gaze away from you, even with the sweat and hair hanging in front of his face.

You carefully take a his hand into yours, sucking air between your teeth at how injured it was.

“I’m sorry you hurt yourself because of me,” you say, eyes on his bloodied knuckle as you press the ointment against the open wounds. “Are you sure you want me to stay, I keep hurting you...”

You try to sound like you’re joking, that you’re okay and the hurt isn’t weighing you down with your doubts. He frowns, they really did take it too far. He sets down the cotton wool from your grasp, taking both of hands into his before kissing each finger delicately without letting you look away.

“You’re perfect little love,” Jungkook says, reassuring you with no question in his voice. “We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, we’re mean and cruel but we’re never letting you go.”

You remember how loving they were before that night, maybe while they accepted the truth at face value they could never really forgive you in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they were being like this, they didn’t love you the same way anymore.

“Do you love me?” You had to know, the doubt was eating you alive.

He looks at you as if you’re insane, maybe you are, you don’t know anymore.

“Little love, don’t you see how much we love you?” He asks sincerely. “We would do anything for that love even if it made you hate us, you belong with us, and no one is going to take you away.”

You could see the crazed look in his face grow as he spoke, you believed him, the honestly worn like a heart on a sleeve. But his answer bought a wave clarity to your hazed vision, you made them like this, you made them worse, you had to leave.

[sour--disposition]

Bad Girlfriend

-

harry lewis x fem!reader

-

@ketamineharry suggested a harry imagine based off of Anne-Marie’s Bad Girlfriend and voila

please check my pinned post for request/prompt info and my masterlist

You cancel plans for me - I cancel ours on you - Say I'd be back early - I don't get in 'til 2 - You ask me where I've been - I tell you something vague - Think I messed up again - What can I say

You were sick and tired of Harry and his behaviour. When you first got together, you chalked his actions up to being young and dumb. And then to getting used to having more money. Then you blamed it on having to deal with so much at such a young age. 

The excuses piled up, one on top of the other. You knew one day it would all come toppling down around you, drowning you and Harry in a sea of problems that you doubted you’d be able to survive. You’d excused cheating, been by his side during hangovers from hell and comedowns that took too long to make Harry realise that the high really wasn’t worth the pain. You’d rubbed his back and handed him bottles of water and paracetamol and nursed him back to health, only for him to go and get in the same state the next weekend and expect you to help him gather the pieces back together again.

You’d tried to patch things up. Every time that you went to Harry to air all your concerns, tell him that if he doesn’t get his act together that you’d leave, and he always promised that things would be better this time. But something would always happen. There’d be plans he’d forget or cancel. He’d get too drunk and end up with hands over another girl’s body. 

“Ooh, you look nice”, Harry commented as soon as you answered his FaceTime call. “What are you doing?”, he asked you.

“I’m off out with some girls from uni tonight”, you told him as you stood up from the sofa and started gathering your things together.

“I thought you were coming over?”, he said, a small pout forming on his lips.

“Sorry”, you said nonchalantly. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah”, you told him half-heartedly.

“Yeah, whatever”, Harry huffed. “Come back here after?”, he suggested.

“Sure”, you said, a small smile on your lips. “I’ve gotta go, their taxi just pulled up. Love you”, you rushed out, hanging up and shoving your phone into your clutch, along with your keys, card and some cash.

Harry 💕: where are you it’s 11?

Harry💕: y/n c’mon i miss you

Harry💕: am i waiting up for you or not?

Harry💕: its 2am

You didn’t read the texts until you were swaying on the spot in the lift of Harry’s apartment building. Your vision was fuzzy as you tried to find the right key for their front door. “Y/N?”, Harry asked, opening the door.

“Hey”, you slurred, stumbling towards him. “I couldn’t see your key”, you told him.

“Where’ve you even been?”, Harry asked, voice dripping with distaste and disappointment.

“Here, there, everywhere”, you giggled. 

“Come on, go to bed”, Harry said sternly. “I have a shoot tomorrow and Josh will kill me if I’m late or lacking”, he told you.

“Oh, I am so very sorry”, you drawled, exaggerating all of your words, much to your own amusement.

“I’m not being funny, Y/N. Go to bed or go home”, Harry said sharply.

Your face dropped, the small square inch of your brain that was yet to be drenched in vodka and whatever else you’d been drinking lit up with anger. “Fine”, you snapped. You stormed down the hallway, sure of your footing this time and not stumbling once.

“Where are you going?”, Harry called after you.

“Home!”, you shouted, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind you as hard as you could.

You shivered in the cold, late night wind of London as you waited on the curbside for your taxi. As soon as the car pulled up, you slid into the backseat and rattled off your address. The street lights and neon signs of London passed by in a blur of alcohol and anger and regret. “Thanks. Keep the change”, you muttered, handing a note over to the driver and getting out of the taxi.

Once you’d got back into your apartment, you changed into some pyjamas and took your make-up off as quickly as possible. You crawled under the covers, pulling them around your body and getting comfy in the middle of your bed. 

Part of you felt a little guilty for how you’d treated Harry, but a bigger part of you couldn’t find the effort to care. You’d put up with Harry acting like this for 6 years, he could tolerate you doing it once or twice.

-

You wanna meet my friends - I say another day

“Another day, Harry”, you sighed, heavily, turning back to the work you were trying to get done for your classes.

“You always say that. You’ve been on this course for, like, a year”, Harry whined.

“I know but I really need to focus on work at the moment, Harry”, you told him. “I started my degree later than I wanted to anyway and then I didn’t commit to it like I should have last year because of…”, you trailed off.  “Another day”.

“Because of what?”, Harry asked, voice taking a combative edge as he sat up straighter.

“Harry, I don’t want to get into this again”, you sighed heavily, slumping into your chair.

“Well, you started it!”, he argued. “So finish your sentence. Go on!”, he goaded.

“I couldn’t commit to my degree because I was too busy looking after you!”, you shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Me to lash out? Fucking well done”, you spat. You gathered up your things as quick as you could, closing your book and shoving things into your bag.

“Where are you going now?”, Harry asked frustratedly.

“Home. I have an essay to do for next week”, you muttered as you shoved past Harry.

Things between you and Harry were only getting worse. You knew about the other girls, but the both of you just pretended that you didn’t. All of his friends saw Harry as some sheepish kid with a loud mouth girlfriend, but they never got to see the Harry that you were seeing more and more. The Harry that held things from years ago against you, the Harry that was becoming more controlling by the day, the Harry that would raise his voice when things went even slightly not his way… The Harry that wasn’t the same Harry that you fell in love with.

-

'Cause I'm one in a million - More like in a billion - I don't think it's cheating if I'm kissing other women - I do some shit you can't forgive - And you better get used to it

The more you and Harry argued, the more his friends didn’t like you. They hid it well, especially Simon and Josh since you were such good friends with Talia and Freya. But you noticed the side glances you’d get anytime you laughed a little louder than usual, any time you’d say something that would make Talia or Freya cackle. You’d notice the looks that they would send Harry when you had the audacity to go and dance and your own, or when you’d be on your phone whilst everyone else was fighting to keep you out of the conversation.

You had no doubt in your mind that Harry was telling them bare-faced lies about you and hiding the truth about himself. You knew that they had no clue about Harry’s cheating, about how bad his drinking and substance abuse had truly been, how much he actually relied on you for day to day functioning. All they knew was that you were loud, argumentative and didn't give Harry the time of day when it came to uni work.

“Do you think she knows she’s punching?”, you heard Ethan ask JJ.

“I mean, it’s so obvious. Harry’s miles out of her league. C’mon man!”, JJ laughed in reply.

You looked to Harry to see his reaction. You knew he’d heard what was said, but based on the look on his face, he couldn’t care less. You didn’t need the validation from your boyfriend’s best friends, but it would be nice if your boyfriend would at least defend you or reassure you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave the table, heading towards the toilets. You were facing the mirror, touching up your hair and make-up, when Freya and Talia walked in. “What happened?”, Talia asked.

You told them what you’d heard and watched as their faces contorted into looks of horror. “Oh my god!”, Freya exclaimed. “What did Harry say!?”, she asked, coming closer to hold you hand supportively.

Your silence answered their question perfectly. “I can’t believe him”, Talia huffed, wrapping her arms around you.

“Things haven’t been great, but I never thought he’d just sit and let his best friends slag me off practically to my face”, you told them. Your eyes were watery.

“Hey, babe. Don’t let your mascara run”, a dark haired girl told you, handing you a tissue. “Whoever is letting someone slag you off is stupid”, she assured you.

“My boyfriend”, you said sadly. 

“I hate boys”, she laughed darkly, rolling her eyes, before rejoining her group of friends.

You, Talia and Freya emerged from the toilets around 5 minutes later, once you were sure that your tears had dried and weren’t going to restart. The three of you walked towards the table, Freya and Talia immediately sliding next to Josh and Simon.

“Where’s Harry?”, you asked, not seeing him anywhere. Ethan gave you a look and pointed towards the dancefloor before turning back to his conversation with JJ and Vik.

You glanced over towards the dancefloor, hoping you’d see Harry. Thankfully, he was towards the edge, back turned towards you. You watched as he turned around, ready to try and grab his attention. His eyes met yours, briefly filling with panic, before darting back down to the girl in his arms.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, as Harry’s friends and Freya and Talia all watched as he tried to assess the situation and what to do.

He watched as you walked closer, looking ready to send the stranger away. Harry’s eyes followed you as you sailed past him and towards the middle of the dance floor. You could feel eyes on you as you began dancing to the music, letting the beat mix with the alcohol and take over your body.

“Did you sort things with your boyfriend?”, a female voice asked. It was the girl from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully at her.

“No”, you snorted. “I came to speak to him and he was all over another girl”, you told her. Your eyes darted over to where you’d last seen Harry. “That’s him there, sucking face with the blonde”.

“I hope he’s your ex-boyfriend now”, she told you, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated”, you admitted, looking down in shame. It wasn’t news to you that you were letting Harry treat you like a doormat, but you had yet to muster up the courage to leave him. Just as you looked up, ready to offer to explain it over a drink, someone behind you shoved you, sending you catapulting into the girl’s arms.

“Careful there, can’t have you falling for me already. I’ve not even started flirting yet”, she told you with a smirk. “Martha”, she said politely, holding out a hand.

“Y/N”, you told her with a shy smile as you accepted her outstretched hand.

“Care for a dance?”, Martha asked you, pulling you closer with the hand that was still in hers.

You didn’t care if Harry and his friends watched as your bodies rolled together. Harry had never danced with you on a night out like this, never held you shamelessly in a club for everyone to see. Harry had never held your face so securely as he pulled you in for a kiss in front of everyone around you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”, you heard beside you.

“Is this the boyfriend?”, Martha asked once she’d pulled back and let her eyes flutter open, eyeing Ethan up and down as soon as she had.

“The boyfriend’s best friend”, you told her, preparing to step out of her hold.

“Last time I checked, the boyfriend was preoccupied with someone else. Get him to come and find me when he wants his girlfriend. We’ll be right here”, she said, voice powerful and allowing no argument as her arms held you closer.

Harry never came to find you. The two of you left the club in separate taxis and you left with a new number saved in your phone.

-

You should be with someone else - Someone who is not myself

“Harry, you deserve so much better”, you heard a voice say as you walked into Harry’s apartment. You walked down the hallway quietly, lingering just behind the door frame to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“We’ve been together for so long, though”, Harry sighed.

“Did you not see what she did the other night? She was all over some other chick!”, a voice, Simon’s, exclaimed.

“Maybe it was just a mistake, y’know”, Harry tried to reason.

“She’s not good for you, Harry”, JJ, this time, said.

You’d heard enough. You turned the corner, coming face to face with all 7 of the boys. “Y/N…”, Harry trailed off.

“No, no. Carry on talking about me, it’s fine”, you said, voice lathered in artificial sweetness.

“Damnit, Y/N, it wasn’t like that”, Harry snapped, surprising everyone but you. “What are you doing?”, he asked as you started gathering a blanket off of the back of the sofa and plucking a hoodie off of the back of a dining room chair..

“Getting my shit and going”, you hissed.

“You’re being dramatic”, Harry scolded.

“No, Harry. I’ve put up with your bullshit since we were 18. I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve put my life on hold for long enough. You need someone, but I’m not that someone anymore. I’m sick of looking after you and letting your friends hate me just because you’re too much of a coward to tell them the truth”, you spat.

“We know everything, Y/N”, Ethan said smugly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“So you know that I started my degree late because I had to get Harry sober? You know that he’s cheated on me more times than I can count? You know that I’ve tried for 6 fucking years to get him to love me as much as I love him and it’s never fucking worked!?”, you all but yelled, shocking everyone in front of you.

“You think I don’t love you?”, Harry asked, voice frustrated and angry.

“I know that you don’t love me as much as I love you”, you told him simply. “You cancelled 3 anniversary dates to go on nights out with the guys. You made me cancel a weekend away because you wanted to go to Dubai. You get annoyed when I try to do my uni work. You let Ethan and JJ slag me off, practically to my face, and didn’t say a fucking word”, you told him.

You looked at Harry, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear my boyfriend’s best friends, people I’ve known for 6 years, say that I’m punching and that you deserve better? Did you think about how much it hurt me when you didn’t even flinch at what they said?”.

Harry’s face lit up in anger. “It’s not like you’ve been a good girlfriend!”, he spat.

“Because being a good girlfriend to you is like a full time job. It’s a full time job and I haven’t had a day off in over 5 years. So yeah, I’ve been a bad girlfriend… Boo fucking hoo”, you grumbled.

Harry remained silent, a sheepish look crossing his face. “We can try again”, he suggested quietly.

“We have! Over and over again!”, you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m tired of looking after you when I’m just as hungover as you. I’m tired of not making plans because I literally can not afford for you to cancel on me anymore. You don’t value me or anything that I do. Your friends hate me and you don’t care. I’ve been your last priority for years and I’m sick of it. We’re done. I’ll put your stuff in a box and bring it round”, you told him, voice losing more and more strength as you spoke.

“Y/N…”, Harry tried, reaching for your arm.

“Don’t”.

[fictional-scenarios]

hello! can i request an angsty fic with aizawa and f! reader where they break up? thank you!

i hope you enjoy this! i did it from his perspective, hope thats okay! also i know he probably wouldn’t actually be like this in a relationship, but for the fic, this is the only way i could see him being at fault :3

always appreciate reblogs and comments! if you’d lie to support me, here’s my ko-fi!

In the worst of the aftermath, Aizawa was not angry. He was never angry, not truly. Not even when he’d snap at his friends for bringing up her name, or when he’d feel rage churning in his stomach at the thought of her being with another. He was never angry. 

He was sad. So devastatingly, core achingly sad, that it kept him bed ridden for days at a time. Work, come home, eat and sleep. It wouldn't end. 

He’d always considered his quant home a safe haven, but lately it’d been feeling like a prison. It felt like a haunting museum, little bits of her as far as the eye could see. The memories were so vivid, he could still almost see the figure of her standing in his doorway. He could see her leaning on the window sill peering outside. He could see her shoes by the front door, her toothbrush in a cup upon his sink. He could see her under the covers with him, hushed laughter and soft snoring into the early morning.

Even now, he see’s her beside him in bed. He see’s the indent of where she should be, now terribly empty. It makes him feel cold, alone. 

But, being alone had never been a huge issue to him before all this. In fact, he knows it was the downfall of him. 

She’d just wanted him to go out with her now and then. She just wanted to take photos with him, hold his hand out in public without feeling like she’d been forcing him. 

Aizawa buries his face in his hands, his back leaning against the cold wall, blanket curled around his waist like a weight. 

All she had wanted was just a little more life. Just a few more kisses, a few more hugs. A few more signs that he truly cared for her, but he wouldn’t hear of it. She knew he loved her, why couldn’t that be enough? 

He refused public dates that weren’t anniversaries or events. He hated photos. He hated when she’d clasp fingers around his own, hated it because all it brought was attention. Paparazzi's scavenging and ruining every affectionate and tender moment they’d shared together in public. 

He never understood why it had to be public. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why she would insist they get out and so something together. Why couldn't hanging out in the seclusion of his home be enough?

Always so stubborn, especially when it would have been the correct time to give in. His annoyance and unwillingness to be anything other than slow moving and low maintenance drove her away from him. He was just fine being on his own, so why couldn't she?

‘I feel like you’re embarrassed of me,’ She’d cried, having hit her breaking point. ‘I feel like you don’t even really care about me.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightens. Of course I care about you. Why else would I want you here?

He should have said that. But, he didn’t. Just silently witnessed the destruction unsure of what to do next. Unsure of whether to argue, or remain dormant and quiet. Not quite apathetic, but he was never one for a shouting match. 

Unfortunately, he chose to remain still in the face of a crumbling heart. 

‘Even now, you won’t say a word. You don’t ever talk to me, Shota. You never ask how my day was, or if I want to go do anything. Why do I feel like I’m just here so you’re not lonely?’ She’d had fat tears welling in the pits of her eyes. She looked drained, broken. ‘I need more,’ Voice cracking, a terrible realization she’d stumbled upon. ‘I need more than that.’ 

It was a tense moment of silence. She shook her head and choked back a harsh sob.

‘Then that’s it.’ Lip trembling, feeling unwanted. ‘I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m leaving.’

At the lucid memory, Aizawa wish's he could go back and punch himself in the head. Say something, you idiot, he’d scream. Tell her to stay.

She’d passed him by, and the door slammed shut before he even turned to watch her go. 

It’s been weeks now, and he can’t seem to get his head right. It’d taken days before she came to collect her things, something he hoped would never come to be. A stupid part of him believed that she’d come around for some reason. It’d happened before- her storming out, him never changing, her missing him enough to just... Get over it. This time, however, was much different. 

Sinking in the memories, Aizawa feels his throat tighten at everything she’d said, and even worse, everything he didn’t say. His phone lights up beside him. 

yamada: are you still moping in there???? come out w us tonight! you need to get outta bed at some point

yamada: its been weeeeeeks!!!!!!! come on!!!!!!!

Aizawa knows he does. He knows his friend has been trying to get him to leave since it happened, but it’s hard.  He answered his friend, deciding that tonight he would in fact go out for a few hours just to clear his mind- anything is starting to become better than seeing a home empty of her. He sends the message, and his heart grows heavy.

He said yes to his friends when he was feeling sorry for himself, but never for her. He knew he deserved it, but it hurt not having her anymore. Especially when all he had to do was say yes sometimes. 

What stung the most was that he didn’t get to see her when she came to collect all her items, cram them into a box and leave for the last time. He’d hoped at that point, if it ever came to that, he could convince her to stay. But.. She hadn’t told him she was coming. Perhaps because she knew she was bound to give in. 

He came from from U.A., hoping that she’d be there, sleeping soundly or sitting terse on the couch ready for an argument ending conversation. 

But, she wasn’t there. In fact, nothing of her was. All her things vacated. Everything but the memory of her stripped away. 

Aizawa had stood stunned in the doorway. Then, it all came crashing down. She was serious this time. It was set in stone.

She’d really left him.

He didn’t think she’d actually leave him. Arguments were always so easy for Aizawa. He was a firm believer in ‘take me as a I am, or don’t take me at all.’ But, he’d never realized just how much changing she’d done for him. 

When he’d first met her at a group outing, she was full of life. She was bouncy and energetic. She had a sea of friends, a world of opportunities. But with him, with Aizawa’s stubbornness combined with her need and want to spend time with him, she went out less and less. Contacts in her phone dwindled from a vast ocean to merely puddles. 

Seldom she went out, and on the rare occasions she was able to get Aizawa to go, she’d dress in her best just for him to chastise her. ‘We’re not going anywhere that fancy,’ he’d remark, not noticing how her eyes fell. ‘Aren’t you a little over dressed?’

Guilt tore up his heart, now. She was always so beautiful dressed up like that, how could he ever say those things? Too late did he notice how she’d changed everything for him. Lost friends, missed outings, just so she could remain by his side. He did everything wrong and wasn't even willing to see it. He felt like a neglectful, stubborn, ass. 

Forcing himself up from bed, it takes all his strength to get up and wander into the bathroom. He’d need to start getting ready then if he was to go later. He was a slow moving creature, after all. Lazily, mentally drained and exhausted, he opens the mirror and pulls his toothbrush from the little shelves inside. The mirror swings shut and he’s met with his dreadful reflection. 

His eyes are even darker, redder, than they ever were with his quirk. Even he could tell he looked worse for wear. Drained, emotionally vacant yet so powerfully overrun with them at the same time. He looked dead. He brings the toothbrush to his teeth, but can’t bring himself to find the motivation to actually begin cleaning up. 

So tired. 

He just wants to sleep again. 

He wants to text her. But he doesn’t.

Tossing the toothbrush into the sink, resting his elbows on the edges and allowing his head to hang in sorrow, he wonders what she’s doing right now. It’s a warm Friday evening, the blue sky wide and clear. He’s sure she’s going out tonight, finally allowing herself the freedom to make up for all the time she’d missed with her friends. Friday’s were always Aizawa’s least favorite day. He just knew she’d want to go out, and he’d always combat it with a movie she’d been wanting to see, coming up with some random excuse as to why it wouldn’t be an ideal idea to go out. 

Then, he’d ignore how she sadly watched her friends social media stories about the night, and ignored their texts asking why she’s never around anymore.

God, what he would give for one more Friday night with her. He’d dress up, he’d take her somewhere so nice even he would be afraid he couldn’t afford the food. Her and all her friends. Whoever she wants, the whole world if need be. He’d do anything she wanted, strut her to a party on a red-carpet. Anything just for another Friday night. 

Aizawa’s eyes cast back up to his reflection. A lump forms in his throat, he watches his eyes glisten with tears. He wants to fall into the floor and forget about everything. 

Pushing himself away from the sink, he shake his head and gags on how tight his threat feels. Without even a moments hesitation, he finds himself right back in his room, pulls the covers aside, and drowns in them all over again. It’s dark, it’s cold. His own rooms uninviting without her. 

Yet, he can’t seem to bring himself to leave it.

His phone sits on his pillow. Aizawa opens his friends message. 

‘im going to stay in tonight. thank you for inviting me. im tired’

Aizawa doesn’t even want to see the messages his friend instantly starts blowing his phone up with. Instead, seconds after the text sends, he holds the power button until the entire screen goes black. He rolls over to face the wall, and he feels like he’s made of led. He swallows hard and gives into sleep all over again. His arm slings around a pillow, and he clutches it to his chest. 

A forever inanimate reminder of where she once laid. 

[unfortunatelyilikebnha]

I saw someone say “Iida only wanted to be a hero to uphold the family name, not out of a selfless desire to help others” and like. First of all, a selfless desire to help others is an ideal held by very few in the hero profession (even Midoriya, though I love him and think he’s noble as fuck, can be argued to have some sort of stake in saving others - he wants to save people because he thinks everyone deserves to be saved, sure, but also because he thinks saving people is the only way he’s worth anything which is untrue and fucked up, but also not the point of this post), and second of all, that may have been true at first, but Iida (along with Uraraka and Todoroki but they’re not the point of this post) is actually one of the best examples of character growth among the heroes I think.

The first impression we get of Iida is that he’s uptight and rude to Midoriya at the entrance exam. However, his rudeness came out of his desire for fairness - he wanted each examinee to have their best chance to succeed at the exam, so he told Midoriya that he was distracting him during mic’s explanation, and when he thought Midoriya was going to distract Uraraka he stops him from doing so (yes Midoriya was just going to try to thank Uraraka from stopping him from tripping, but Iida had no way of knowing about that). After the entrance exam, Iida is one of the first to consider that there are other aspects to being a hero, and theorizes there might be more to the exam (something nobody else to our knowledge, not even Midoriya himself, figures out until it’s announced flat out). When he finds out he was right, he apologizes to Midoriya as soon as he’s able. Then it’s because he assumes Midoriya figured it out as well, not because he has actively changed his view about being a hero yet, but it is the first step towards him doing so, and it reveals a common trend with his character - Iida desperately wants to do the right thing, and does not shy away from the consequences when he does something wrong. He realizes he made a bad choice, adjusts his worldview, apologizes, and attempts to make up for it and do better in the future.

At first, Iida wants to be a hero because he wants to make his family proud, especially his brother, whom he idolizes. However, the Stain incident changes things. Stain calls him out for not trying to save someone who clearly needs it - a problem that Iida himself identified during the entrance exam but dismissed then, as he convinced himself that he would save someone in need in an actually dangerous situation - and this is then backed up by Midoriya showing up to save him (and changing his plan from grabbing Iida and running to fighting stain to stall for time when he noticed someone else was in danger), and Todoroki showing up to save Midoriya. At first he is just confused and scared (which considering that he’s like 15, paralyzed on the ground, bleeding from a stab wound, and his friends are fighting a serial killer to protect him and he’s scared that he’ll die and worse also that his friends will die because of his mistakes, I think is justified), drowning in self pity and trying to get Todoroki and Midoriya to leave, recognizing that he’s made a mistake and not wanting them to get hurt for it, but then Midoriya and Todoroki get through to him - they’re saving him because he’s their friend but also because that’s what heroes do, and Todoroki tells him to “stand up and be the hero you want to become!”, so he does.

At this point I think it really sinks in for him that becoming a hero isn’t just about protecting his family’s legacy - it’s about saving people. Sure he knew that it was part of the job before, but this is when he realizes what that really means, why his brother thinks people who help lost children are “the coolest in the world”. In typical Iida fashion though, he accepts this change in the way he sees the world, and adjusts his behavior to compensate for it. He realizes that letting your personal feelings seep into the job is not always a good idea and begins to focus himself on getting better at saving people (this btw is why he gets so mad at Midoriya when he goes after bakugou - Midoriya’s making an emotional, reckless decision and sticking his nose into a situation that, theoretically, the pro heroes have handled, letting his feelings win out over logic when he promised Iida they’d get better together, needlessly putting himself in danger and completely ignoring how to Iida it looks like Midoriya’s making the same kind of mistake he did, disregarding his promise. No Iida probably shouldn’t have punched him and yes the rescue mission turned out well, but Midoriya was being quite inconsiderate and Iida apologized as soon as he’d somewhat calmed down which is more than almost any other character has done so!!).

Iida’s growth is shown even further in recent manga chapters, where he ignores orders (even though a big part of his character is following the rules), because he knows his friends are in danger without much backup and he wants to save them like they saved him, deeming that more important than following the rules. In addition, when he gets to the battlefield he doesn’t take unnecessary risks that would put him more in danger and make his presence a liability, but instead takes a position of support, taking orders at the scene and caring for bakugou since no one else who’s present is able to do so. He is here not just because of his emotions, but because he judged it a reasonable risk to take, and believed that he could be useful in saving people. At this point in time he is no longer thinking about his reputation, but how he can best help, and I love that for him.

In conclusion stan Iida!!!

[titlemewickedwonderland]

His Starlight Her Firefly (Chapter 9)

AN: This story is now also located on AO3! Also, the language used for this chapter is Dark Elvish

Workshop

Previous

It's never easy watching things change right before your very eyes. It's not easy watching the things you loved and things you fought for slip through your fingers in favor of something new and shiny. What hurt worse was watching the people you love most change into someone you could not recognize. Astraea knew this all too well as she sat across from Daemon and beside Viserys as the men of his council argued among themselves. She watched them from over the rim of the goblet she was drinking from. Men were pathetic - they think in a way that if they have power and status they own you and your attention or they are owed something while regarding the fact of whom gave them the status in the beginning. It made the princess wish to vomit if she was being honest- Or punch someone in the face; whichever came first. These men made no difference in the opinion she had of males of the court. 

Of course, not every man was such as these vultures were. Some were worse while others held a sort of wisdom to allow them some kind of decency; no the world was not always as black and white as people would like to portray themselves to be. But Astraea had better things to do than sit here watching some old men arguing about a matter she wasn't even aware of since they hadn't stopped since she'd sat down. A nudge to her foot under the table got her attention and she looked across to find Daemon watching her looking much like herself who wanted to be anywhere but here. 

The relationship between the pair had strained after the beach fiasco. They did not talk about it anymore. They still spent time together but it didn't feel as personal as it used to be as if there was a tightrope they were trying to walk across when interacting together. As if they had too much to talk about but neither wished to address the elephant in the room and thus they pretended nothing happened in favor of keeping face. Of keeping some sort of normalcy between them as if too afraid that if they spoke about what happened - about how they felt about each other then everything would change; and that was a scary thought. Even Viserys knew something was going on he had simply not addressed it even when he'd hinted at it. Feeling the heat of the king's stare the young woman turned her attention to her uncle and gave him a pained look as if silently communicating to stop the foolery happening at the table. The poor man looked as fed up with them as his brother and niece. 

"Gentleman if we may-" Viserys tried but his voice was drowned out by the arguing voices and when he tried again it was lost once more amid the loud voices. He looked as if he was going to rise but Astraea had enough and she slammed her goblet to the table with a loud clash that spilled a few droplets of wine to the wood beneath it. 

"Enough!" her voice was firm and daresay cold as her crimson eyes bore into those around the table who froze as if the roar of a dragon vibrated in the room instead of the slight woman sitting before them.

"You" she rose slowly and leaned her hands on the table as she cast her gaze from one face to the next. "Have not stopped squabbling like children since I entered this room; now I don't know what kind of matter it is that is making you split like a log under an axe but stop it or so help me by the new and old gods I will unleash Noimrai on all you until you are nothing but burnt crisps! I can assure you you are all expendable with others willing to take your places." 

Viserys winced slightly as he saw the utter horror and terror on the grown men's faces and for a moment he felt like cowering too despite his niece's rage not being meant for him. When he looked at his brother; Daemon was smirking openly at the display of dominance the raven-haired woman commanded of the room; admiring her for the spitfire spirit unlike everyone one else who looked as if they wished to sink to the floor and disappear altogether; Princess Astraea never got mad - perhaps upset but not to the extend of verbally assaulting threats at others, and looking as if she was truly going to follow through if anyone stepped out of line. 

"Otto. Please enlighten the rest of the group on what it is that is making a mess of this place." Astraea turned her crimson eyes to the right-hand man and gave him a go-ahead nod before she was sinking back into her chair. "And please let's be civil people. We are in the presence of royalty who have better things to do than listen to grown men act like children." she rubbed at her temple before reaching for her cup only to find that it was empty and spilt on the table making her frown with agitation and disappointment.

Daemon grinned as he reached across the table while Otto began to speak and replaced her goblet with his own that still had some wine left within it. Astraea flashed him a brief look of thanks seeing his expression and playfully rolled her eyes before she cradled the cup in her hands and leaned back into her chair with a slouch; idly nursing the contents of her cup as she listened to what Otto was speaking of. 

Astraea had been making several appearances within the council room recently alongside King Viserys and although generally no one was allowed besides those of the council and those specifically called to see the king Astraea managed to gain a permanent spot at the table now that her goddaughter Princess Rhaenyra was not of the age that she needed to care for every hour of the day; the eldest allowed the good keeping of her to Otto Hightower's daughter Lady Alicent Hightower who was just a few years older than the princess herself and thus made a perfect pair together as they would often spend much time together whether in lessons or just spending time together. 

"-cess. Princess Astraea." she blinked looking up from the contents of her cup to stare at Otto who was looking at her expectedly.

"Forgive me, Otto. What were you saying?"

"We were just discussing the issue of the laws of the kingdom. There has been a rise of criminal activity recently in the past few months but we have not been able to take down those responsible." Otto replied patiently 

The princess looked around the room a moment before turning to look at Viserys as if asking for permission; albeit a bit confused as to why her opinion mattered. She'd never truly been directly asked for an opinion that could pass the table and go into effect in the decision-making. But then her ears began to burn when they caught the muttering further down the table

"What is this? Now allowing women to make a choice in the royal court as if she were queen? That bastard child should not have a say-"

Daemon seemed of heard as well at the same time as his violet eyes stared across the table at Astraea for her reaction; feeling his own blood boil in anger as he saw the familiar spark in her crimson eyes despite the way her face seemed to be frozen in a blank slate. He began rising to his feet to defend the princess but Astraea met his gaze and gave him a tiny shake of her head. No, Daemon needn't fight her battles for her especially if she was to keep her rank within the royal court. Respect was always earned not bought and this old fool believed she didn't belong within the walls of the Red Keep. 

She rose to her feet and cleared her throat as she turned her head towards the old man who'd muttered those words to his side of the table. Hands clasping in front of her she tilted her head with a slight smile. Seeing the look of surprise as the man realized she'd heard him. 

"I have been within this family for decades, m'lord. I may not have been born a Targeryon but I have every right to be here. I have proven myself far more times than I probably should have grown up that I deserve to sit with my family.-"

"You have no family witch!" the man barked out feeling a little bravado. 

Her jaw clenched. "I have-"

"She has a family." Daemon rose sharply from his chair so that it screeched back and toppled to the floor. "She hasus! We are her family and if you dare say such a thing again I will cut your tongue from your mouth and feed it to-"

"Enough!" Viserys shouted rising. He looked kind of pissed too at this point. 

With all the back-and-forth yelling and arguing with all the interrupted sentences he has had enough and he looked ready to throw down. Pinning the councilman with a stare he spoke directly to him.

"Ser Redford. You forget your station; you are here to advise me not to judge the people who walk through my doors. It seems you've forgotten who it was that gave you this position in the first place. Not only have you disrespected the Princess of Westeros but you have insulted the royal family name and their honor!" his voice rose a bit 

"Your services are not needed for this council any longer. You have until the end of the day to pack your things and return home. I will not stand for anyone disrespecting those I hold dear right in front of my face." 

Ser Redford stared agape at the man as everyone else stared at him in equal amounts of surprise and pity. But they did not fight for him to stay and instead wisely kept their mouths shut as the man was escorted out of the council room. Astraea looked at everyone else who turned to stare at the royal family but no one said anything until Otto cleared his throat and flashed a slight smile.

"If that is settled, you're grace. I'm sure we would appreciate your input, Princess." 

'

"Did he truly say that?!" Rhaenyra gasped looking over at the eldest as the trio of females sat beneath the Weirwood tree in the garden later that afternoon; the sun was slowly sinking in the horizon and dinner would most likely be done soon but they did not care as they enjoyed the breeze that kissed their cheeks.

"That's absolutely vile! You are the princess! He's lucky Prince Daemon hadn't gone through with cutting his tongue from his mouth!" Alicent echoed looking aghast 

Astraea shrugged lightly and tipped her head back against the tree. "Men will say anything when they are filled with the empowerment of their position. It happens. I do not let it get to me. After all, when you play the game of royalty you tend to get caught up in it." she replied as if she was brushing it off. 

But the younger girls could sense the turmoil beneath her and Rhaeynra's young hand slipped into hers to give it a squeeze. "If it helps you Godmother. It is we who are lucky to have you among us. you are such a delight and I am blessed to have you as my godmother." the girl of ten said looking up with those doe-like eyes of hers

Astraea chuckled and gave her hands a squeeze. "You are too kind, sweet girl. Truly the both of you are." the older woman replied with a soft smile before she rose to her feet. "Come, let's go head ready for dinner, and let us not mention such things again especially in front of your father alright?" she sighed helping the two youngsters up from the ground.

"Alright" Rhaenyra replied with a smile before she was tugging Alicent by her hand ahead to go get ready for dinner. 

As Astraea watched them go a figure appeared at the corner of her eye and she turned to find a messenger servant standing there with his bag over his shoulder and a letter in his hand. 

"Please, forgive the intrusion princess. This was sent over to you from Driftmark by Lady Rhaenys." the boy stated keeping his gaze on the ground as he held out the letter.

Astraea blinked a moment confused as she hadn't heard from her auntie in quite some time. But she took it with a nod and a smile as she dismissed the boy and began opening the letter. The handwritten note inside was short and written in the familiar hand script of Rhaeyns with the official signature and wax stamp of the lord of Driftmark.

My dearest niece,

It has been far too long since we have last spoken and for that, I beg your forgiveness. I am aware that you are busy now that you have grown well into the court but I write to you in the urgency of a matter that you most need to hear. I cannot write such things in this letter but I look forward to your reply so that we may meet face-to-face once more to discuss this matter at hand.

Yours, Lady Princess Rhaenys of Driftmark 

An urgent matter that her auntie could not even write down in fear of an interception? The secrecy was unlike Rhaenys and it worried Astraea as she quickly folded the letter back up and briskly began marching her way inside the Red Keep in favor of her chambers where she could write out her own letter in return. But as she sat down with some parchment and her quill pen poised ready to write she found she could not. Frowning she stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of her for a long moment before she placed her items aside and rose to her feet to her wardrobe to gather herself some clothing. 

When she was done she attached a dagger to the inside of her boot for protection and gathered her cloak around her before ducking from her room only to smack into the tall frame of Gilthunder who was posed at the door awaiting her. She gasped clutching her chest as if she could calm her frantically beating heart. 

"What are you doing?" the man's bright gaze fixated unnervingly on her.

"Going for a ride." she lied quickly but she turned her gaze away from the man who grunted and crossed his broad arms over his chest and stood in her way blocking her path. 

"Lies."

"No, truly Gilthunder I am!" she insisted as she tried to maneuver around the hulk of the man but he merely sidestepped her like a dance each and every time until the frustration was clear on her face. 

"Gilthunder move!" she hissed fearful someone would hear their squabble. 

"You are not telling truth. Tell me." the man frowned now looking a bit concerned as he assessed her attire. "Leaving?"

the princess sighed and licked her lips nervously as she glanced down the halls. "Look Gilthunder, I'm going to visit Driftmark. There's a matter of importance that I must speak to my aunt of and it cannot wait."

The man squinted at her as if he could see through her before he shrugged a shoulder. "Write letter."

"I can't! She was cryptic in her messages and wanted to meet face-to-face. It's not a trap you overprotective oaf I swear! Seal and signed by the lords of Driftmark. Now please-" she began begging the man but suddenly a new voice spoke up from behind the guard.

"I will ride with her Gilthunder. Your post is relieved until she is safely returned to the Red Keep." 

Daemon.

Of course, it had to be Daemon of all people! Astraea shifted to stare at the white-haired man behind them and frowned. "Absolutely not!"

"It wasn't a suggestion princess." Daemon reached around to grab her wrist and pulled her along beside him as he stalked through the halls. 

"Daemon I swear to the gods unhand me!" Astraea hissed struggling against him

The man suddenly twisted her around until she was pinned against the hallway wall glaring down at her. "I don't care what you think princess. I am going."

Astraea stared up at him wide-eyed before she lifted a knee and placed it straight into his crotch causing him to double over. "And I'm done playing the damsel who turns a blind eye! Whatever in the seven hells is going on I will find out!" she snapped at him before she was bolting down the side stairs towards the stables

Daemon did not follow her and for that she was grateful. She understood how Daemon could be at times but they were not as close as they once were; he didn't have a right to pry into her business like this and act as if everything was normal when it hadn't had a decency of normalcy for the past decade. Before long she was strapped to the back of Noimrei and was scaling through the darkening sky heading straight for Driftmark praying that whatever her auntie had to say was worth her time; or at least something that could ease her worry at such a cryptic message. When her dragon made landing a few guards had already met her there which she assumed was because of her unannounced arrival. When she was escorted to the castle manor she was greeted by an overwhelmed-looking Rhaenys. 

"Auntie. What has happened? You look so pale!" Astraea took hold of the woman's arms as they pulled away from their embrace. 

There were lines of stress along the other woman's face that made her look older than she should be and it worried the princess as she was ushered with quick steps. 

"Not here, sweet girl" Rhaenys stated firmly as she glanced over her shoulder at her guards as they walked - scanning the area behind them with a wary eye. 

"Is Leanor and Lena alright? I pray Uncle Corlys isn't injured or ill-" Astraea was hushed by the older woman as the doors were closed behind them and she was escorted down a hallway towards an unassuming door that was normal and bland looking. 

Frowning Astraea peered down a dark flight of steps as the door was opened by a guard. She was guided by the arm with a light hand as the Lady of Driftmark led the way down the stone steps into the darkness. Below they met a pair of guards holding torches and they took up the charge as they led the women to the back of the prison cells Astraea realized until they hit the very last one that stood apart from the rest where she was halted. 

"We found him astray on the beach by the Dragon's Keep. He was unconscious and had water stuck in his lungs but our healer took care of him; he seems to be doing alright but he will not talk. We thought perhaps you would be able to get something out of him" Rhaenys stated softly as she grabbed a torch from one of the guards and held it up to allow the light to extend into the cell.

"Me? Why on earth would-" Astraea began as she peered inside further and her speech halted in shock

There at the back crouched a figure in the corner hunched into itself. At first, Astraea thought he was just a lonely soul who might have gotten shipwrecked or something but as the light hit the man the figure in the corner raised his head to peer back at the ladies on the other side of the cell doors. Crimson met crimson and Astraea's breath caught in her throat as the person within the prison cell fully unraveled themselves and sat up. A light of surprise glittered in the pools of scarlet as much as her own. Her hands gripped the bars of the cell not sure whether she needed them to hold her up or her fighting the urge to try and break the damned bars. 

"Uk on ueo.." The man's voice was raspy and hoarse as if from lack of use but the words that came from his chapped lips did not make sense at first - but there was a sense of nostalgia; a long-lost feeling of knowing that tickled at the back of her mind. 

"Open the gates" Astraea spoke without taking her eyes off the stranger in the cell.

"But your highness-" the guard protested but was silenced with a quick nod from Rhaenys spurring him into action.

When the iron door was opened Astraea walked in cautiously. As if approaching a wounded animal that was cornered. She noticed that the man had a chain wrapped around his ankles cuffing him to the wall behind him; it only gave him enough room to walk a little over half the radius of the cell's volume but he did not move from his seat on the cold hard stone flooring even when the princess entered.

Astraea slowly sank to her heels in front of the man not afraid that he would lash out at her. She was not thinking of her safety at this moment but the fact that twin crimson reflected back at her as if looking at a reflection of a water's surface. She beckoned over her shoulder for Rheanys to enter with the light who did so without question as she took a stop just out of reach of the man if he dared make a move but the light from her torch allowed the cell more light for the princess to see. 

Licking her suddenly dry lips the dark-haired princess peered closer trying to examine the man. "What is your name?" she asked softly but the look on the man's face clearly shows he didn't understand what she was saying. 

So instead she placed a hand on her chest. "Astraea." she said softly before pointing to herself. "Astraea." she repeated before she pointed to the man with an expected look. 

A frown creased his features as his mouth moved to try and pronounce her name before he realized what she was saying his eyes lit up and he placed a hand on his own chest as he spoke up. "Zycul Kaevre, djurbann." 

Astraea tilted her head with a slight smile. "Z..Zycul Kaevre Djurbann." she repeated slowly trying out the odd language

The man's white teeth with slightly sharper canines flashed in the dim light as he shook his head. His wavy shoulder-length waves of inky hair glittered in the light of the torch emphasizing the long pointed ears a little bit longer than her own that held a single ring of silver at the tip. 

"Zycul Kaevre."

Astraea felt herself flush a bit realizing that she'd just called him something else that apparently amused him. So that last word must mean something else. "Auntie he's like me." she looked up at the white-haired female who was watching with interest the interactions between the pair but there was a guarded look behind her curiosity. 

"He certainly looks as such. But I see the barrier of language differences may make it hard to figure out how he came to be here in Driftmark. We know all the people who live in Driftmark, Astraea. Not once have I seen him or those of his kind beside you." the woman stated frowning

Astraea tilted her head studying with a slight frown of concern. "Perhaps if you show him a bit more kindness he would be willing to attempt at being civil with you auntie." she replied "Can we get him out of here and cleaned up for starters? We can go from there. He seems keen to speak with me so I will try my best to get something from him." she offered as she rose to her feet and turning.

But as she did so the man lurched forward and grabbed her hand making her let out a startled gasp; instantly the guards were inside with swords drawn but she held out a hand quickly. 

"No don't! It's okay." 

she turned to look down at the man who looked as if he didn't want to be anywhere without her and the look of utter devastation in her eyes made her heart melt a little bit. She reached down to grab his hand and give it a squeeze with a warm smile.

"I won't leave you here," she told him softly as she held him rise to his feet; he was much taller than her but he was lithely framed from what she could tell from what he wore of dirty and slightly torn clothes. 

"I hope you know what you are doing," Rhaenys stated giving the go-ahead to unlock the cuffs. 

"I just have a feeling, auntie," she replied softly as she studied the tall elf-like man with a slight smile.

 "I have a feeling he is the key to my past."

Chapter 10

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[misscorn]

Day 1 Mascot/Costume

Here we go again @sihjrweek !! I don't know that I'll do all the prompts because I have multiple final essays due next week, but I've got three prompts finished already so I hope you enjoy 😊

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The name 'Onodera Ritsu' felt like a costume more often than not. Posing for uncomfortable family portraits in stuffy, itchy clothing as a child is probably where it all started. Unfortunately, it hardly ended there.

Dinner parties, repeated conversations about reputation and image when Ritsu stepped even slightly out of line, and being told to network at the ripe age of fourteen. As if awkward, anxious, teenage Ritsu could network. Who was he even supposed to be networking with? The guy who sat behind him in homeroom?

Ritsu hardly even found any solace in 'Oda' Ritsu. Rather than his true self, it was simply a new mask. As happy as he was to spend time with Saga Senpai, as much as he loved him, he was too nervous, too on edge to ever really express himself accurately.

Maybe they would have been able to get there one day.

Maybe.

Not that either of them ever got the chance to reach a new level of emotional intimacy and vulnerability. It was too bittersweet to think about what the two of them could have had, if they had managed to move past their combined teenage anxiety and angst.

Ritsu wasn't quite himself when he went to England either. Well, he was a version of himself, but it was a version that he didn't particularly like. It was a version of him that was lonely, numb, and when he wasn't numb he was angry and punching his roommate, or worse, waking up in the middle of the night crying. He preferred angry, even if it made Nao's cheek bruise and made his knuckles hurt. Waking up from a nightmare of your first and only love until you cried yourself back to sleep was so much more embarrassing.

College was better. Still not quite the liberation he desired as he was still under the impression that he'd be taking over his family's company one day and he needed to be sure he kept his nose clean. Not that Ritsu was actively looking for trouble, but he never felt like he could fully relax. Still, it was better than his previous schooling experience and he remembered his college years fondly.

Then it just got worse, worse than Ritsu could have ever imagined. He joined his father's company because it was what he was supposed to do. It was expected of him. It was the right thing.

Right?

When Ritsu was seven he almost drowned. His family was on vacation and it only took one unsupervised moment for the water to overtake him. It was dark, confusing, terrifying, painful, suffocating.

Every morning when Ritsu woke up to go to work at Onodera publishing, it felt like he was seven and drowning again. Ritsu either had to break the surface of the water or sink to the bottom. He, much to the dismay of his parents, broke free. It should have been a simple, easy decision, but it took him a while to get over the guilt of putting himself first. He isn't even fully convinced that he's completely over it. Rather, he just doesn't think about it as often. Did that count? He didn't know and he didn't care. He didn't have the time to unpack that. He had other things to worry about.

Because of course, of course, this transition to a new job could not go smoothly. The universe had to throw in a little extra drama, special just for him. Ritsu couldn't think about Onodera Publishing, his parents, nor his arranged engagement when he had his boss and ex lover breathing down his neck.

Not boss and ex lover as in two different people, oh no Ritsu would've much preferred that, but his boss who IS his ex lover. Which meant Onodera Ritsu could hardly come into a true version of himself, not while constantly keeping his guard up around Takano Masamune.

Ritsu didn't even fully know who 'himself' was at this point. It could be argued that his true self was the person he was behind closed doors, but that was a theory he chose to ignore because the person he was behind closed doors wasn't too different from the one in England. Only he was less angry and more regretful. More lovesick. And, most terrifying of all, more hopeful.

Hope.

God, Ritsu hated hope. Hope was what made him accept Saga's offer to date, hope was what brought him to that library every day after school, and hope was what prompted him to ask if Saga loved him.

Love, of course, had a hand in all of that too, but hope was what really hurt you. Hope was what got crushed, shattered, and spat on. Love wasn't enough to patch hope up.

So Ritsu would keep the costume on. He would get to work on time, play the part of a hardworking employee, go home, eat a less than nutritious dinner, shower, and then go to bed alone. And he'd do it again and again and again until he collapsed.

Or, at least that's what he told himself, but deep down Ritsu knew the truth: Takano Masamune was only a few months away from unmasking him. And once it was off, he'd never be able to put it back on.

"Takano Ritsu..." Masamune said to himself one evening as work, breaking Ritsu out of his concentration. "Or maybe Onodera Masamune...Takano-Onodera Ritsu?" Masamune continued to muse out loud, he and Ritsu being the last ones left behind in the office.

Ritsu's eye twitched in annoyance. "What are you mumbling over there?" He asked.

"I'm just wondering who should take whose last name when we get married." Masamune said casually and confidently, as if the two of them were already engaged. "I think Onodera Masamune sounds better than Takano Ritsu. Though, hyphenated isn't bad either. What do you think?"

Ritsu felt his stomach sink as he looked down at his desk, hiding his hands in his lap so Masamune couldn't see how he was clenching them.

"Onodera is a terrible name."

Masamune was taken slightly aback by how serious Ritsu sounded and...did he look pale?

"No it's not." Masamune said, a little confused and unsure of what direction this conversation was going in.

"I would never pass that name on to anyone." Ritsu said before suddenly standing, shutting his laptop a little too loudly and shoving it into his bag. "I'm going home."

"Wait-Ritsu-" Masamune reacted quickly, having learned his lesson ten years ago when he was too slow to chase after his first and only love and lost him because of it. He shot up out of his seat and grabbed Ritsu's wrist before he could run out of the room. "What's wrong?" He asked. Masamune had expected Ritsu to get embarrassed, flustered and snippy at the flirting, but not upset. Not like this.

"Nothing." Ritsu ripped his arm away from Masamune’s grip with a strength he normally didn't use. Shit, Ritsu was seriously upset about this.

"Hey, I didn't mean to-I was teasing you-" Masamune scrambled in a way that was unlike him, trying to fix this somehow.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Takano-san. Good night." Ritsu responded coldly, not looking at him.

"I'm sorry." Masamune apologized quickly. "I didn't think the idea of marrying me would be so...appalling to you." He said, trying not to let the hurt leak into his voice. Masamune knew he and Ritsu weren't officially a thing, but he thought it was pretty obvious how they both felt at this point. Had he been wrong?

Ritsu felt like he was going to be sick. "No-that's not-listen, I don't want to talk about it, but that's not it." He said, his back still to Masamune. Although he was technically admitting that the idea of marrying Masamune wasn't totally repulsive, he was hardly in a state of mind to care.

"Okay. No talking then." Masamune said, cautiously winding his arms around Ritsu's waist and holding him tightly.

Ritsu gave a nervous side glance, though still didn't fully look at Masamune. "What are you doing?"

"No talking." Masamune said, resting his chin on Ritsu's shoulder. If Ritsu didn't want to divulge what was bothering him then Masamune wouldn't push. He was trying to get better at that sort of thing. But, he'd be damned if he let Ritsu storm off alone and upset.

Ritsu opened his mouth, going to argue, placing his hands on Masamune's arms in preparation to try to push them away, but he felt Masamune give him a slight squeeze and he froze. Slowly, he relaxed into Masamune's embrace.

No talking.

Ritsu could work with no talking.

Ritsu wasn't sure how long the two of them stood there, Masamune just holding him and Ritsu for once allowing it. Ritsu knew, despite how small the allowance of affection, it was just another piece of his costume being stripped away. And he was both eager and terrified to get rid of all of it.