#I’m used to the like generalized anxiety of just…everything…and now it’s like no actually this might be a valid risk assessment

[bereft-of-frogs]

I love when I’m like ‘I think the solution to this stress is to just bury it down and pretend everything’s fine 😀’

and my body is like ‘hm good try but there will be consequences tho. have fun with those’

That’s a fun evolutionary advantage, love that for us as a species

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 6]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

no good deed ever goes unpunished

cw: minor depictions of violence, shady activities, non-con touching/groping, non-con kissing, a lot of hurt, no comfort, playfully shitting on people from Birmingham.

wc: 5k

Small chunks of salt stick to the tips of Simon’s fingers, dusting them like fresh snow. You were right; a simple order of chips really isn’t enough to keep him going throughout the night. 

If anything, the saltiness makes him hungrier. It pummels his stomach until it’s grumbling at an annoying frequency, and it doesn’t do much to help the dryness in his mouth, either. He would have tried to order something if it wasn’t damn near impossible to get anyone to deliver to the club, and god forbid Price actually install a proper kitchen. But there would be no use for any sort of kitchen in a place like that, as it’s not good food that makes people swarm to the club like brainwashed zombies. It’s the booze. The music. A quickie in the stall. 

Shady activities in an alleyway. 

Simon huffs as he tosses the empty chip container in the small bin that sits in the corner of the surveillance room. Monitors upon monitors line the wall on the far side of the room, illuminating the concrete floor with a grey glow as faint music pulses through the air. He hates this room. Small, stuffy, and overheating with the computers and servers; he’d rather be out in the bitter November winter right about now. He’s out of luck tonight, because after nearly two weeks, Johnny’s research has finally bore fruit. 

About time, too. All Simon has been able to think about for the last few days has been you. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, he can still see the outline of your body that’s ingrained in his mind. Your limp, exhausted form as you rested in the conversation pit — too overwhelmed to keep conscious. He doesn’t know why you haunt him so terribly. Perhaps Mrs. Price is to blame; she knows how he never likes leaving a job half done. 

Or maybe it’s because you’re so… peculiar. For a woman he could only describe as being a skittish cat, you’ve suddenly melted into some other version of yourself. Your dislike of his proximity to you was obvious. Short words, awkward exchanges, yet the impulsive need to constantly get even with him, like you were trying to sweep up the breadcrumbs that lead to your door so he couldn’t follow you home. 

However, when he visited you a few days ago to check on your hands — as promised — you seemed to be a whole new person. Well, not entirely. If you were the world’s most skittish cat before, you had now become the feral stray that would maybe eat out of the palm of his hand if he didn’t look at you while you did it. He would ask you questions and you would respond with something more than simple words or an uneasy, anxiety induced joke. 

I’m just… glad you’re not doing it just for me.

He still wonders what you meant by that.

“Hey, you paying attention?” Johnny quips.

Simon blinks the glaze out of his eyes — one which still carries a now greenish-yellow hue around his cheekbone — and pushes the thoughts of you out of his mind as his attention fully settles on the monitors in front of him. A chair squeaks as Johnny settles back against worn, faux leather. He’s already got everything loaded up for whatever presentation he’s about to give. 

“Waitin’ on you, Johnny,” Simon playfully retorts. 

“Right,” he replies, rubbing his hands together, “so I’ve been trying to do some research on your dance partner here, and he’s a slippery fucker. Whoever he is, he’s good at covering his tracks up. At least through the methods I use to find people. Nothin’ on the media or anythin’ like that. Might as well not exist at all in the tech world.” 

A hum rumbles in Simon’s throat as he crosses his arms. “You drag me in here just to tell me you found nothing?” 

Johnny’s neck cranes to the side where he then looks up at him with a smirk. “Come on, Riley, when have I ever wasted your time?” 

Both men turn their attention back to the monitor as Johnny begins to wind and rewind through footage from a few days ago. Everything happens fast; speedy bodies darting across view, and the comedic speed up of light snow falling on the ground, but not sticking. Static streaks across the screen as the footage warps, before it suddenly pauses again. 

“Since I wasn’t able to find anything on this guy, I decided to sleuth through this video again, and I found something a little odd about this bloke here,” Johnny explains as he points to a male figure. Whoever it is, they’re faced away from the camera with their hands shoved deep into their pockets to stave off the cold. “He enters the alley before your pal does…”

The video plays at normal speed, and the faceless man vanishes behind the brick corner of the building a few meters down, just as Johnny described. He fast forwards, and everything plays at triple speed. Simon’s seen it all before. The man who accosted you enters the alleyway, and then you unfortunately come across him a bit later, but then something happens that he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to before. 

The man Johnny pointed out leaves the alley, this time facing the camera. He’s fiddling with something in his hands, and upon closer inspection, Simon’s able to tell it’s a wad of cash. It’s quickly stowed away in his pocket, and that’s when Johnny pauses the video. 

“He leaves as soon as Chip arrives, shovin’ cash into his pocket like he struck a deal,” he concludes. 

Tense fingers grip the back of the office chair as Simon leans over Johnny’s shoulder, squinting at the face on the screen. He scrutinizes every detail possible through the fuzzy footage, and his jaw flexes as he huffs. Square jaw, visible stubble, and eyes just as shifty as his character. 

“He looks familiar,” Simon mutters. 

“He outta. Fucker works here,” Johnny drops. 

A rancid, sour taste floods the back of Simon’s throat at that revelation, and his fingers tense to the point the imitation leather of the chair threatens to crack beneath his grip. Fury rises in the dark irises of his eyes as he leans back and grumbles. It seems like such a simple detail to miss. Something that he should have caught on to the other night, even in his sleep deprived state. If he had, he would have been several leaps closer to the real issue ages ago. 

“Who is he?” Simon demands. 

“Marcel Wylder,” Johnny answers as he twists in his chair to face him. “Works part time as one of the bartenders in the VIP lounge. Only really works on weekends, and according to the floor manager, he’s a good kid. Only twenty three years old. Always shows up on time, things of that sort.”

“Good kids don’t meddle with men who like to scare women in alleyways,” Simon retorts. 

Johnny shrugs. “Guess we all have our dark sides… some more dark than others.” 

It takes a few more moments for Simon to finally get himself to look away from the screen, and his eyes land on Johnny with a malice not meant for him. He’s not quite sure why this revelation angers him so. The sting of failure pricks at his skin too violently for him to ignore it. 

“He here tonight?” he then asks. 

“Yeah, he’s working on the second floor right now. Or, at least that’s where he was last, according to the cameras,” Johnny answers. He pauses to lick his lips and tilt his head at Simon. “You’re brewing something up in that head of yours. None of it looks too cheerful.” 

Swarthy eyes glare back at the monitor as Simon commits this new face and name to memory. Marcel Wylder. Twenty three. Square jaw. Stubble. Thin eyes. 

“Thanks for the intel, Johnny,” is all Simon says as he turns on his heels and walks towards the exit. 

A high pitched squeak echoes off the dull white walls of the room as Johnny spins in his chair to watch him leave. All he can make out are straight set shoulders, clenched fists, and an aura that demands blood. 

“Go easy on the kid!” Johnny calls after him, his voice too saccharine to truly mean it. 

There are very rare times when Simon Riley feels like a savior, but he can’t deny the fact that he feels like Moses when he’s walking through John’s club. All it takes is a single glance or a firm hand on someone’s shoulder, and the mass of pulsing bodies splits for him like the Red Sea. 

This trend continues as he jogs up the wrought iron spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor, and his path to Marcel is highlighted by the mob of patrons crowding the bar. He looks nicer tonight than he did the other night, and his square jaw almost appears defined now that he’s shaved that fuzz off of his face. Pristine dress clothes mark him as a perfect employee as he quickly fills orders and stuffs tips in his pocket all with a thankful smile. Doesn’t look like he’s doing half bad for himself, considering there’s a near topless woman serving booze next to him.

“Marcel!”

Simon’s voice booms louder than the bass of the music, and is so sharp all other sounds nearly seem to cease for a moment. That pathetic sod glances up from his work like a schoolboy being scolded, and his face grows pallid. All it takes is a simple gesture of his fore and middle fingers to get the man to slip from behind the bar and join him in the crowd. Smart kid. Everyone knows not to mess with Riley. 

He leads the boy out behind the building like a lamb to slaughter. Just like a good offering, he’s quiet. Hardly questions anything besides an is everything alright? to which Simon doesn’t respond. Frigid wind attempts to cut through the formidable fabric of Simon’s clothes, but it seems to really do a number on Marcel. Hardly even ten seconds out the door and the poor boy is wrapping his arms around himself and trying hard not to shiver lest he look pathetic in front of the head of security. 

A flickering security light is the only source of illumination in the shady alley, and even in the bleakness of the winter the garbage spoils and festers with a stomach-churning odor. Marcel stands cornered with his back to the wall, and he watches with trepidation as Simon’s hand dives into his pocket. Relief doesn’t fill his face until he realizes it was only a pack of cigarettes he was searching for, and not something nefarious. 

The cancer-stick sits at home between Simon’s lips as he lights it and puffs out a steady stream of smoke until it’s well lit. A gentle breeze whisks it away into the air where it quickly dissipates among the smog smothered stars. Once he’s satisfied, he holds the pack out toward Marcel. 

“You smoke?” he asks. 

“Yes sir,” Marcel answers. 

Simon shakes the pack, and a smile pulls at the boy’s lips.

“Cheers.” 

As Marcel’s trembling hands work on igniting the lighter, Simon takes a better look at him. There’s hardly a single scar on him, and his hands are much too soft to truly be a part of any violent syndicate. Still, anyone can be a mole, even if they’re a smoothed face kid. Besides, he’s got a Brummie accent, and Simon fucking hates Birmingham. 

“What d’ya do outside of workin’ here?” Simon asks. It’s kind enough. Simple, polite conversation — but there’s nothing civil about the look in his eyes as he chews on the filter of his cigarette. 

“School, mostly,” Marcel replies. 

Simon hums. “Uni?”

“Greenwich.”

“Smart.” 

Another exhale of smoke dances between Simon’s lips as he huffs, dark eyes still trained on Marcel. He’s damn near shivering out of his skin as the black fabric of his uniform is designed to whisk away sweat and keep you cool in warm, humid temperatures. No matter, the boy can warm up soon enough — Simon intends for this interaction to be quick. 

“Since you’re a smart kid, you’ll do well to be truthful with me then, yeah?” Simon prompts as he flicks a bit of ash onto the ground. “That bloke you met up with the other night? Who is he?”

Trembling muscles suddenly freeze, and the cigarette seems stuck against Marcel’s lips. There’s no exhale of smoke, or the embers brightening at the tip to show he’s inhaling; there’s nothing. 

“Bloke?” he repeats. 

“The fucker you met up with in the alley a week or two ago,” Simon snaps, already impatient. 

Marcel jumps and the cigarette falls free from between his lips and fingers. It sputters and whines on the ground, where the boy quickly puts it out of its misery by stomping on the embers until they’re no longer glowing. 

“Right, erm, Andrei I think it was.”

“And what did he want?” Simon presses. 

“Well, he had this picture of someone. Some bitch he didn’t want hanging around here I suppose. Was asking me questions about her and stuff,” Marcel replies earnestly. 

A bright pink dusts the tips of Simon’s ears, but it’s impossible to tell if it’s from the cold biting his skin, or the rage boiling through his veins. “What did she look like?” 

“She was dressed mostly in black, kind of similar to our serving uniforms. It looked like it was taken through the window of some restaurant, but I don’t know which one, I swear.” 

Sapori. Teeth nearly cut through the filter of the cigarette as Simon’s jaw clenches, and he rips the thing out of his mouth to toss it on the ground, not even bothering to stomp it out. This man — this Andrei — is getting too close to you for comfort. He thinks back to the way you reacted in the alley; how petrified you were. A terrible thought plagues his mind as he wonders what else has been done to you to get you to fear someone so terribly. 

Simon doesn’t like where his mind is wandering. 

“What questions did he ask about her?” Simon continues.

“Dunno, just regular stuff? I suppose? Like when she was here and who she was with. Things like that,” Marcel answers.

Simon raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I told him the truth. About how she was here on Halloween. I mean, I didn’t see much of her so there wasn’t a lot I could tell him. Honest. I think he was mostly looking for confirmation that she was here at all. He didn’t ask for anything else after that and sent me on my way.” 

Acid eats away at Simon’s stomach as the chips he ate before this seem to have a hard time settling with the heavy ire disrupting his mood. Dense feet scrape against the ground as he takes a few steps closer to Marcel, who puts his hands up in defense as if that’s going to do anything against the raging storm barreling straight for him.

“That’s it, that’s everything, honest! I swear!” he pleads. 

“I know. I believe you,” Simon says through gritted teeth. 

Worn knuckles crash into the tense flesh just underneath Marcel’s sternum, stealing the very breath from his lungs. He sputters miserably as his back crashes against the brick wall behind him, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t breathe. A deep purple hue stains his face as his body begins to jolt and spasm uncontrollably. It’s impossible to keep himself upright with the wind knocked out of him, and he slowly slides onto the ground with his hands over his stomach like he’s trying to stop blood flowing through a wound. 

“You’re a smart boy, so listen close,” Simon says as he crouches to Marcel’s new height. “Be careful who you call a bitch ‘round here, because if I hear you refer to a woman like that again, I’ll knock your goddamn teeth out, ya hear?” 

Still sputtering and heaving, Marcel nods.

“Good. Now, that woman Andrei showed you? Forget her. She doesn’t exist to you. If he comes ‘round here again askin’ about it, you tell him you haven’t seen her, because you won’t. You’ve got nothin’ for him, yeah? Nod,” Simon continues, and Marcel complies. “If anyone ever starts askin’ about any of our patrons or workers, you bring that shit right to me. Don’t you ever go ‘round behind my fuckin’ back again. You think there’s anything that happens here that I don’t know about? Huh?” 

After an eternity of struggle, Marcel is finally able to get a good gasp in, and a few subsequent breaths after that. That bright purple begins to fade from the paleness of his face, and he quivers and shakes his head. 

“N-No sir,” he stutters. “Sor-ry…” 

“Good, and don’t fuckin’ forget that.” 

Simon pushes himself up to his feet and looks down at Marcel as he writhes and chokes on his achy diaphragm. He haphazardly digs around his pocket for his pack before he retrieves a single cigarette and tosses it toward the pathetic lump of a man at his feet. It bounces on the slimy ground before rolling to a stop with specks of dirt sticking to the filter — a shitty attempt at an apology.

“Take a breather, then get back to work,” he orders while he turns to leave, but Simon only gets a few steps away before he pauses. A stiff finger points at Marcel as his attention is quickly brought back to the boy. “Keep in mind, that’s not even half of what I’ve got.” 

Marcel’s pathetic response is drowned out by the uproar of music that fills Simon’s ears as he returns back inside of the club. A thick wall of heat melts the frost off of his skin as his brooding figure cuts through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. His blood continues to boil with clenched fists and heavy breaths. It’s all consuming. Swallowing him whole. Simon doesn’t like being angry. He feels too much like his late father, and sometimes he fears that he looks like him, too. 

Violent, angry, sinister — his intimidating build and threatening demeanor have always been something he’s tried to fight against. A stereotype he’s been trying to break. Yet now that he’s gotten one step closer to uncovering the monsters hiding in your shadows, he’s grateful for it. For once, it’s a tool he can use to his advantage. 

Something he can use to help you. 

Except while Simon is busy taking baby steps through this web of lies, you’re already in the maw of the beast. Frayed string tangles around your fingers as trembling hands attempt to keep themselves busy with a solo game of Cat’s Cradle. It’s already the 25th again, and just like every other month, you’re in perfect position. Sitting properly on a bench with a wad of cash tucked neatly into the envelope that sits inconspicuously on your lap. This is a dance you know well. A dance you don’t think you’ll ever be free from.

Washers and dryers hum around you and clash terribly with the ringing of your ears and the violent pounding of your heart. Trepidation plagues you worse than it usually does on your payment days because you don’t know how Marco is going to react about what Simon did to Andrei. You keep going through possibilities in your mind. Things you need to say to keep him off of Simon’s trail. Ways to apologize to keep him from getting upset. You’ve gone through every option your mind can come up with, yet it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. There’s something you’re still missing. 

But you’ve run out of time. 

Frosty air slices through the warmth of the laundromat and you try your best not to shiver even though you’re already shaking. Marco's cologne drifts along the air, mixing in dissonance with the fragrance of soap and fabric softener. Green eyes scan the small room as he takes note of the single mom folding clothes in the back of the building as her young son watches videos on her phone. It should be comforting to know that you’re not alone — but you’ve learned that you’re never safe, not even when all the cameras in the city are trained on you. 

Your attention stays firmly on your hands as Marco waltzes up and makes himself at home next to you on the bench. The scent of him scorches your nose as his arm wraps around your shoulders. You try not to jump as he involuntarily pulls you closer to him, and you find your fingers clamping down hard on the string in your hands. 

“Long time, no see,” he greets. 

He’s friendlier than he normally is, and that terrifies you. His thumb rubs at your arm through the fabric of your jumper and you feel your heart leap up into your throat. He knows. He knows, and you’re about to pay for it. 

“Did you hear about our good friend, Andrei? Got scuffed up pretty bad the other night,” Marco then prompts.

You swallow your heart down your throat and back into your chest. “Is he alright?” 

“Define alright,” he hums. Long legs spread apart and bump into your thigh, crowding you further like he’s trying to lock you in a cage of flesh. “Busted lip, broken nose. Face is so goddamn swollen he sounds like he’s got a cold.” 

Images of Andrei’s face from the other night sear your mind. Bright red blood trickling down his lips, an appalled expression on his face as if he had never met anyone able to put him in his place before. You should have known then that you wouldn’t walk away unscathed from something like that. You never do.

“What were you even doing there, anyway? At that club?” Marco then asks. 

“I was delivering food,” you answer truthfully. 

“You a delivery driver now? Thought you were a waitress,” he digs. 

“Hostess…” you correct. 

“Who were you delivering to?”

“My friend… her husband owns the club and she was hungry… so… I, well…” you lie. 

Firm fingers dig into your arm as Marco pulls you closer, and you try to keep your bottom lip from trembling. “Ah, right. John fucking Price.”

Shocked, you finally bring yourself to look at him. There’s faint amusement on his face as he stares at the washers in front of him. A mixture of soapy water and colorful clothes dance around in the machine as it gently spins and agitates the fabric. 

“You know him?” you venture to ask. 

A smirk pulls on his lips as he turns his attention to you, and your blood screams at how close his face is to yours. “Don’t worry about that, babe.” 

His eyes capture yours in a way that makes it impossible to look away, like you’re an unfortunate deer caught in the headlights of a car. He wanders down. Down, down, down until he catches sight of the unmarked envelope on your thighs. He grabs it and isn’t at all courteous about where his fingers brush in the process. 

“How did that guy even know you were in that alley? The man who fought with Andrei?” Marco asks.

As he waits for your response, he hits the envelope against the top of your thigh as if he’s bored. Tap, tap, tap. Each time it touches you, you feel your stomach twist. 

“I, uhm, asked the same thing. Said he heard us. Thought I needed help. Guess he was the bouncer outside the VIP entrance during that time. M-My friend said he’s the head of security,” you reply, weaving truth and lies seamlessly together. 

“Yeah, I know who the bastard is,” Marco mutters in reply. 

Something in you wants to press him for an explanation of what he means, but you keep your lips sealed as he folds up the envelope and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans. Your gaze finally breaks away from him as you glance down at your hands. They’re almost fully healed — nothing but faint scars and scabs. You untangle the string from your fingers as you begin to wind it up, hopeful that he’ll leave soon. 

“Well, it doesn't matter. I’m sure it was all one big misunderstanding. No use in getting worked up over it, pet,” he sighs. A pause follows his words, one that’s interrupted by quiet giggling of the child still playing on his mothers phone as she folds clothes somewhere to your right. “Still, some damage was done. Andrei’s been an annoying fuck ever since the altercation. As much as I would love to let you get off easy, it doesn’t really look too good if I’m letting some sweet, pretty thing walk all over me, now does it?” 

Your eyes flutter shut as he speaks, and you attempt to mentally prepare yourself for whatever blow he’s about to deal to you. Of course it was naive to think you’d get out of this easily. In fact, you had planned to be hurt in some type of way. All you wanted to do was throw Marco off of Simon’s trail, and though it feels like you’ve succeeded for now, you’re not quite sure if you even accomplished that much. 

“It doesn’t,” you pitifully agree. 

Marco smirks. “Because of that, your monthly payments will be increased by five hundred starting next month.” 

The very blood coursing through your veins turns to ice, and tears blur your vision when you open your eyes. Five hundred. A brutal panic wreaks havoc in your chest. You want to sob, and scream, and thrash but his hand is still on your arm, keeping you chained to him. Gluttonous fingers stain your skin and his leg is still pressed against yours and you can feel the disgusting warmth of his body and you can’t. You can’t. You want to rage, but you’re cornered and trapped, and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

“B-But that’s… that’s fifteen hundred a month, I… I’ve hardly- I can’t make that.”

You’re crying now, and you hate it. Hate how weak and pathetic you are. White hot tears cook your cheeks as they travel down your face, and you’re trying your best not to hiccup. Suddenly, you’re a kid all over again. Fawning, trying not to flinch as his hand reaches for your jaw to turn your face to him. His breath smells minty as it fans across the wet streaks on your face — he’s so close you can almost taste the menthol. There’s a small frown on his lips, something that almost looks sincere, but his eyes are too hungry for it to be real. 

“Look at you,” he shushes. His hand moves up to cup your cheek as his arm keeps steady and firm around your shoulders.“Getting all upset over this? If it means that much to you, we can always negotiate lower, babe.” 

It takes an eternity for his lips to meet yours, and once they do, everything freezes. The only thing you can comprehend is the ringing in your ears and warm shame on your skin. It’s degrading. Humiliating. A terrible reminder that you’ve never really belonged to yourself. Never really belonged to anyone or anything but him.

Things get worse when his tongue pushes past your lips. Everything becomes ten times louder — the washers and dryers, the video on that damn phone, Marco’s slight moan against your skin. You make a pitiful attempt to fight back by pressing your hands on his chest, but he only pulls you closer, holding you tight like a coiling snake. 

Something in you demands blood. You feel obligated to bite down, to sink your teeth into his tongue until the mint in your mouth is replaced with iron and copper. When you were a kid, your dad taught you how to throw a punch. You wonder what he would think if he saw you now, too afraid to fight back. 

Once he’s had his fill of your fear, Marco pulls away, but you still can’t breathe. Using his thumb, he wipes a stray tear from your face, and you can tell by his slick snicker that he savors the feeling. 

“For that, we’ll drop it down to three fifty,” he whispers. He places another kiss against your lips — something chaste and quick — before he releases you and stands to his feet. “See you next month, pet.” 

Marco leaves just how he arrived — with a gust of bitter, frigid wind. He’s taken something from you that you won’t get back, and it’s left you feeling empty on that bench. So void, so barren of anything, that you can’t even bring yourself to move. All you can do is sit there and curse yourself for being just as worthless as the day you were when you first got yourself stuck in this mess. 

Shuffling sounds on your right, and you nearly jump out of your skin and look up at the source of the sound. It’s that lady and her son. You’d nearly forgotten about them. A small basket of neatly folded clothes sits on her hip as she’s holding the boy's hand to lead him out of the laundromat. There’s a look of disgust on her face, like she can smell every single sin that’s ever been forced upon you. As if you are at fault for the grotesque display of affection you were made to endure. 

As she exits, you try not to think about why she didn’t help you. If anything, you’re grateful for it. No more favors. No random acts of kindness. It never turns out well. No good deed ever goes unpunished. Instead, you rise to your feet a few minutes after she leaves, wiping your face clean before you brave the cold streets of London to make your way back home. You promise yourself that once you get home, you’ll wash your mouth out with soap, and then call Sapori to see if you can pick up an extra shift for tonight. 

No matter what, you can’t take Marco’s offer — that terrible promise he made you all those years ago. Maybe one day you won’t have a choice, but for now, you’re content on working until your hands bleed.

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Break My Heart

Plot: With Y/n and Jamie not speaking to one another, a trip to Manchester brings about opportunity and heartache.

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: f!reader, language, insinuated smut, mention of abusive parents

A/N: THIS is the chapter I’ve been looking forward to the most. Even though this isn’t the conclusion, I think it’s what the whole thing’s been building to. Well, this is part one of it, at least. I’m gonna shut up now and just let you read. Enjoy!!

—————

Sam Obisanya: Remember that movie we were looking forward to? It’s coming out on Friday. Want to catch it this weekend?

Colin Hughes: Haven’t seen you around lately. Everything alright?

Dani Rojas: We missed you at Isaac’s birthday dinner! Come visit us next time you are free!

Rebecca Welton: Your tea’s cold. Keeley’s confirmed you’re not dead. Several questions.

Ted Lasso: What’s shaking, Abe Lincoln? Don’t be a stranger next time you’re meeting with the boss.

There had been an onslaught of texts in the three weeks since Y/n had moved out of the Dogtrack. She hadn’t expected people to not notice she was gone, but she hadn’t thought so many of them would care.

She’d ignored every single one.

She wasn’t the only one who’d chosen to stick with Keeley. Barbara had stayed on as well. With Rebecca’s generous financing, the three of them were keeping their ship afloat all by themselves. Jack be damned.

True to her word, Y/n handled all Richmond business from afar, only popping in with Keeley for an occasional meeting with Rebecca and Higgins. She sorted press conferences and post-match interviews without ever stepping foot in the building. If it weren’t so unhealthy, it would have been impressive.

In her makeshift office, actually the conference room, Y/n paced around her computer. She eyed the screen each time she passed by. Roy had a presser scheduled for the afternoon. Sam and…another player were meant to join him. Sam she could handle seeing, though Lord knows she felt guilty for ghosting him. The other one…

“Oh,” Y/n waved herself off, feeling ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She could handle it, she thought, as she turned on the video feed.

Springing to life on her screen, Roy sat between Sam and Jamie, fielding questions.

Y/n’s insides locked up. Jamie.

They hadn’t spoken since the night he’d shown up at her apartment. Not a single text or run-in. It was no longer just Y/n avoiding him, Jamie was actively not speaking to her.

Y/n tried to focus on Sam’s answers, he spoke humbly about Richmond’s 15-game win streak. The last three had been unbelievable you-had-to-be-there kind of matches. Hiding in her apartment with a Sky Sports broadcast hadn’t compared to the real thing. Y/n missed the energy of the stadium and the joy of watching the boys.

Her eyes kept floating back to Jamie. He was hunched over the table, biting his nails, not making eye contact with anyone. He didn’t look like he wanted to be there at all.

Marcus Adebayo, though he answered to Roy’s nickname of ‘better Trent,’ stood and addressed Jamie. “On the heels of making your England debut, how does it feel to be named Premier League Player of the Month?”

“Eh, um, yeah. Yeah, it feels good, I guess,” Jamie answered hesitantly, “But it’s really the team making me look good. So, I should be doing a better job of making them look good, really.”

If Y/n had been in the room, Sam, Roy and her would have all shared the same puzzled look.

“So, yeah. Makes me feel bad,” Jamie finished with a pursed frown.

Roy leaned forward, “Uh, Jamie also led the league in assists this month so he’s done plenty to make his teammates look good.”

“Yeah, but they’re the ones who took all the shots,” Jamie corrected softly.

“He also scored a goal,” Sam interjected.

“T-that was meant to be a pass,” Jamie pointed out, his voice high with anxiety, “You shouldn’t count that. That goal is a lie. It should be retracted from the records.”

Y/n shook her head in confusion, whispering to the empty room, “What are you doing?”

“I apologize to everyone,” Jamie continued, “Especially to the kids.”

“Right, let’s call it there, everyone,” Roy decided at the exact second Y/n was internally stepping forward, “That was great. Thanks very much.”

Y/n stared at the screen, her gaze following Jamie until he was off camera. Whoever had been speaking wasn’t any variation of the Jamie Tartt she knew. He was so out of character it was concerning.

She glanced at her phone, the device silently begging her to type a message. Ask him. Talk to him. Find out what’s wrong. Help him.

Instead, Y/n took a deep breath, closed out the browser, opened her email and got back to work. No good could come from her reaching out. Jamie would be absolutely fine without her, better even. And she would be fine without him.

—————————

Y/n wasn’t a woman who ever thought a man’s presence added anything to a situation she couldn’t. But as she heaved the water jug onto the cooler, she wished that she hadn’t sent the delivery guy away under the assumption she could do it herself.

She returned to the main room to find Keeley in conversation with Roy, both of them turning to face her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Roy asked.

Y/n motioned to the space around them, “I work here.”

“No, you don’t,” he replied matter-of-factly, “You work at Richmond.”

“Y/n has been here the last few weeks,” Keeley answered, “Just to get things back up and running while we’re short staffed.”

Roy took deep pride in not interjecting himself into anyone else’s business. Sure, he’d helped Isaac through whatever the fuck had caused his meltdown last month. Yes, he offered Ted advice from time to time. But the other 99% of the time, he didn’t particularly care what choices the people around him made. Their lives were theirs and his was his.

But Jamie and Y/n were another fucking deal.

He wouldn’t have invited Y/n along to their 4AM training sessions if he hadn’t known she helped keep Jamie’s spirits up. He’d caught the two of them leaving the parking lot together more than a dozen times. He’d noticed Jamie be the first one on the pitch whenever Y/n was observing training and the first one off when she was waiting on him for lunch. He was well aware the two of them were attached at the fucking hip. Y/n’s disappearance had thrown everything off-balance. Maybe it wasn’t the reason for Jamie breaking down in Roy’s arms earlier, but it certainly couldn’t be helping.

“Oh,” Roy humored the answer, smiling at Y/n. “That’s very kind of her.”

Y/n grinned back nervously, Roy could see through everyone’s bullshit but his own.

“She could help too,” Keeley suggested.

“Help with what?” Y/n asked.

Keeley gestured to Roy for an explanation. “Jamie’s going through some shit. I asked Keeley to talk to him, but since you two are close, maybe you could too.”

Big fat flashing red sirens went off in Y/n’s head. “Oh, I really don’t think I’d help anything,” she struggled, “I-I think Keeley’s much more suited.”

“Not necessarily,” Keeley disagreed as Roy continued to stare Y/n down, “I mean, you two are really good friends.”

“We’re not that close,” Y/n lied, “I mean, we’ve hung out a couple of times but really,” she extended a hand toward her boss, “You definitely know him better.”

Unlike her ex, Keeley had no problem inserting herself in other people’s business. She hadn’t yet approached Y/n about the headlines she and Jamie had made after the England match or the fact that she didn’t want to go near Nelson Road. Since coming back from London, Y/n had pulled away from everyone and everything, Keeley included.

Roy was taking some sick joy in egging Y/n on, “Oh, no, I think-“

“I’ll take care of it,” Keeley jumped to say, ending whatever confrontation was about to take place. “Promise.”

Y/n and Roy held eye contact, challenging one another to break first. Eventually, Roy’s desire to look at Keeley won out and he turned away.

“Thanks,” he glanced back over at Y/n, “I’ll leave you two to your work.”

Stealing one more fleeting gaze at his ex-girlfriend, Roy left the way he’d come, leaving Y/n with a whole new bunch of unresolved feelings.

“He’s quite handsome.”

Y/n startled, she hadn’t even realized Barbara was seated at her desk for the whole exchange. She headed for the conference room, eager to get away from every part of the conversation.

Keeley hung back a moment before following her and gently knocking on the door. “Hi,” she entered slowly, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Y/n answered with faux cheeriness, seated once more at her desk/table, “Fine.”

“It’s just back there…you seemed a bit on edge when Roy mentioned Jamie,” Keeley broached the topic with care.

Y/n’s muscles involuntarily clenched, she tried to keep an even expression. “No, I’m fine.”

Keeley hesitated, nearly turning around and leaving before deciding to just go for it. “You know, if this is about the pictures of you two, I don’t think anyone thinks-“

Y/n sighed, “Keeley, I’m fine. I just think Roy should do his fucking job and take care of his players instead of pawning them off on one of us.”

“I’m not talking about Roy,” Keeley replied, “I’m talking about-“

“Jamie and I are not close,” Y/n said, her tone harsher than intended, “We are not friends. There’s nothing wrong with him, we’re just not as chummy as everyone seems to think we are. End of story.”

Keeley knew Y/n’s edges were sharp, but she hadn’t ever seen her snap so quickly. It only told her there was more to the issue than she’d guessed.

“Got it,” she gave a single nod, “I’m sorry I asked.”

Y/n regretted her words the moment she’d said them. Keeley hadn’t deserved her misplaced frustration. But the mere mention of that night triggered Y/n’s fight-or-flight response. Mixed with the knowledge that something was wrong with Jamie and that Roy clearly knew something, it was all too much.

She stared out the conference room window, landing on Keeley and Barbara’s desks they’d pushed together. She could have been with them, working together as a team. Instead, she was hiding away, once again deciding that the isolation could keep her safe from everything.

Everything except the gnawing fear that she was responsible for Jamie’s behavior.

—————————

Finally, the long awaited weekend arrived.

Man City versus Richmond.

Y/n left no stone unturned when searching for a new excuse not to attend the match. She’d had her period the first week of her three week absence, sick and exhausted the next two. If she’d had any family in the country, there would have been some fake emergency involving them.

She knew she couldn’t get away with a full month’s nonattendance. She had to go to Manchester.

Packing an overnight bag at 6AM and getting on the road by 7 had been her self-ruled terms. The last thing Y/n wanted was to be stuffed on a bus with everyone she was trying to avoid for four hours. Driving herself allowed not only space, but an escape route, if she needed it.

She was barely out of London when Keeley rang her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” the Bluetooth speakers of the car projected Keeley’s voice, “We’re loading the bus up. Just wanted to see where you were.”

Y/n sighed, she’d forgotten to tell someone she wasn’t coming with the team. “Actually, I’m already on the road. I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d get an early start.”

“Oh,” Keeley sounded a bit disappointed, but not entirely surprised, “That makes sense. Smart choice.”

“Yeah,” Y/n replied, feeling the familiar burn in her gut that came with each lie she told, “I’m a bit ahead of you guys so I’ll see you when you get there.”

“Alright. Drive safe, yeah?”

“You too,” she said before disconnecting the call.

Y/n tried to listen to music, tried to play a podcast, but she found that anything other than silence just didn’t feel right. Every song seemed to trace back to her situation and every spoken word seemed to be speaking directly to her, telling her everything she was doing was wrong.

The silence was no more comforting, it only gave her more room to ruminate about the weekend. How was she supposed to avoid Jamie in such close quarters? How was she supposed to keep away from Ted, Rebecca, Keeley, the rest of the team? It felt like a mistake to come and an equally massive one to stay behind.

A long four hours later, Y/n pulled up to the Hacienda Hotel. The Greyhound bus had yet to arrive. She actually stood a chance at getting up to her room and dodging company till the match.

Y/n gave her car to the valet and dragged her single suitcase through the lobby. She headed straight for the front desk.

“Hi,” she greeted the concierge, “I have a reservation under Y/l/n.”

“Let me just check,” the man replied, typing the last name into his computer. He frowned, “I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t seem to have that reservation.”

“No, that can’t be right,” Y/n calmly replied, “I called yesterday about transferring one room under the Richmond block to my name.”

The man scrolled through his list a second time, “Unfortunately, that request doesn’t seem to have been entered into our system. All the Richmond rooms are reserved under the name ‘Lasso.’”

Y/n sighed, she’d gone to extreme lengths to separate herself before even stepping foot in the city. So much so that she’d been willing to pay her own overpriced hotel rate.

“Fine,” she relented, “It doesn’t matter. Checking in to one room under the name ‘Lasso.’”

“Unfortunately, ma’am,” the employee grimaced, “Under hotel policy, we can’t check in individual guests if the reservation is under a different name. You’ll have to wait until the main guest has arrived.”

Y/n’s plan crumbled further, Ted had to check her in? Worse, she’d have to wait with the whole fucking team?

Just as she’d connected the dots, the hiss of a Coach could be heard outside. Y/n whipped her head around to see the AFC Richmond logo and the moving silhouettes of the boys through the dark windows.

“There,” Y/n pointed to the bus, “The main guest’s there. Check me in.”

The man hesitated, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I have to wait to confirm-“

“How many people named ‘Lasso’ do you think there are in this country?” Y/n whispered in a panic, “He’s right in there, he’s making shitty puns,” her hand bounced against the desk, “Check me in.”

Arguing would have been hard considering Ted was an anomaly in England. The concierge conceded to Y/n’s demand and began the process.

Y/n nervously drummed her fingers against the counter, glancing back to see Will emerging from the bus. Behind him were Isaac, Richard and Jan.

“You’ll be in room #601, ma’am,” the concierge reported and handed her a room key.

Y/n yanked the card out of his palm before he could tell her the bellboy would be happy to take her suitcase. “Thank you.”

She hurried across the lobby to the elevator, praying she could make a getaway without anyone see-

“Hey, Y/n!”

She stopped in her tracks, so close…

Y/n turned around and spotted Ted, hurrying across the lobby as one would after a long drive. She managed a smile and a wave, pressing the elevator’s button repeatedly with her other hand.

“Don’t forget,” Ted called as he made a beeline for the bathrooms. “Team movie, 7:30. I’ll give ya a hint; if you love Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, you ain’t gonna wanna miss this one!”

In three weeks, Y/n had dodged a lot of invitations. A lot. Another declination and she was convinced she’d develop an ulcer.

“Sounds good,” she shouted just as the elevator doors opened. She jumped inside and pressed her floor number before anyone else spot her.

Just before the doors closed, she caught the first of the boys entering the lobby. Just past Sam, Y/n glimpsed the sharp edges of Jamie’s face. Her heart caught in her throat, the mere sight of him was enough to startle her.

She wondered how long she could pretend everything was fine before she proved herself wrong.

—————————

Y/n hid in her room the rest of the day. She didn’t dare leave to get ice or see the city, sure that with her luck, she’d run into someone the second she stepped out.

Half-way through the afternoon, a knock at the door surprised her. She peeked through the peephole to see Keeley. Out of anyone, she was the one that Y/n couldn’t totally avoid.

The door swung open and Y/n put on a smile, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Keeley greeted, “You beat us here.”

“Yeah,” Y/n chuckled, “Trust me, I’d have rather gotten the sleep.”

“Right,” Keeley chortled, “Can I come in?”

Y/n opened the door wider and allowed it. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to steal your pillow chocolates,” her boss cheekily smirked but didn’t move to grab the candy.“And…to ask if you might reconsider talking to Jamie?”

“Keeley,” Y/n sighed in frustration, rubbing at her face, “I told you-“

“I know,” Keeley held up her hands, “But I just talked to him and…he’s really in his head. It’s bad, Y/n. I’ve never seen him like this.”

While she could pretend all she wanted that Jamie meant little to her, Y/n was growing more and more worried. Every one of his dreams were coming true, and the ones that hadn’t were on the horizon. He should have been on top of the world and instead, he was spiraling. She wanted nothing more than to bang on his door, wrap him in her arms and fix it all. Put him back together until he was his glorious self.

“Look,” Y/n pushed on one of her eyes, “Keeley, whatever you think I’m capable of doing for Jamie, I’m not. I’m not a footballer, I’m not his coach, I’m not his girlfriend,” she found the last words uncomfortably difficult to get out, “I’m half his publicity team. That’s it.”

“You’re more than that,” Keeley replied, she had the kindest way of arguing. “You two have been glued to each other’s sides since you got to Richmond. Jamie trusts you. If you just talk to him-“

Y/n pressed her hands against her lips as Keeley spoke. The panic was beginning to swirl inside her again.

“Keeley,” she cut her off and enunciated her words, “I can’t help him.”

After a whole season of working together, Keeley could easily tell when Y/n was lying, both to others and herself. She didn’t need to know what her and Jamie meant to one another, all that mattered was they did. If Y/n wasn’t ready to acknowledge it, there wasn’t anything Keeley could do.

“Okay,” she replied, once again resigned in her failed quest, “I’ll leave you be.”

Y/n didn’t move as Keeley’s furry jacket brushed past her, shutting her eyes to hide the tears. Only when she was alone once more did she let them streak her cheeks. Somewhere down the hall, Jamie was hurting, and that meant she was hurting as well.

—————————

At exactly 7:30, Y/n made her way down the hotel hall. Different conference rooms lined the walls and she followed their numbers till she found the one Ted had texted her. She slipped through the back door, the lights were dimmed and everyone had already taken their seats. Her version of perfect timing.

From her vantage point, Y/n had a perfect layout of the seating arrangement. The team were gathered in the first few rows. Keeley and Roy were at one end of the back row, with Ted, Beard, Rebecca and Higgins following. Y/n couldn’t help but let her eyes run over the players’ heads, spotting Jamie’s mop of hair in the front row.

After evaluating her options, Y/n chose the safest one at the nearest end of the back row, next to Trent Crimm.

“Just in time,” he whispered as she took the seat beside him.

“Yeah,” she replied, “Got lost.”

Trent nodded, waiting a few seconds before speaking up again, “You know, I’m sure anyone would be happy to switch. In case you wanted to sit with your friends.”

Y/n peered over at Trent, whose eyes gleamed suspiciously with knowledge.

“I’m fine,” she readjusted in her chair to prove the point.

Trent nodded, trying and failing not to smirk, “I’m honored to rank so high on your priority list.”

Y/n’s glance turned into a stare, the former journalist was smiling as if she were made of glass. Were her actions so obvious that even he had noticed?

Trent settled back into his chair, shifting his attention to the opening credits. Y/n did the same and focused just as the main title popped up.

You’ve Got Mail.

She groaned internally, if the universe was out to get her, choosing one of the most romantic comedies of all time was the greatest insult it could hurl.

For an hour and fifty-nine minutes, Y/n squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. She couldn’t go more than thirty seconds without sneaking a peek at Jamie, who hadn’t moved at all since the start. He was a fidgeting mess every waking minute of the day. Something was terribly off.

After Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks kissed in the New York garden and his golden retriever leaped to embrace them, the lights came back on. Y/n distractedly clapped along with the rest of the room, already eyeing her exit.

“All right. Listen up, you big softies,” Ted announced, “10PM, lights out. Then get yourselves some beauty sleep for tomorrow’s big meet-cute with Man City. You hear? Alright, Ephron on three. One, two, three-“

A few people, Beard being the loudest, chanted the filmmaker’s name.

“Lovely to see you again,” Trent said, a tease to his tone, as Y/n got up and out of her seat.

She hesitated, catching his knowing expression once more, and debated saying something. She decided it wasted energy and turned on her heel, making it only two steps before Keeley grabbed hold of her arm.

“Come on,” she ordered, pulling Y/n behind her.

“What?” Y/n asked, “Where the-“

Keeley didn’t answer, tugging her across the room towards the door Roy was holding open.

“Keeley, what-“

“Shh,” Keeley hushed, finally letting go of Y/n’s arm.

Y/n followed alongside her boss and Roy, unsure of where they were leading her. When they got to the lobby and she caught Jamie’s silhouette ahead of them, she came to a halt.

“No.”

“Y/n-“ Keeley began.

“No,” Y/n slashed a hand through the air, “I told you no.”

“Fuck your no,” Roy snapped, “I don’t care what the fuck’s going on wth you two, but your job is to make the club look good,” Roy pointed to Jamie’s fleeting figure, “And he makes us look good. So you’re gonna do your fucking job and you’re gonna help us fucking fix this.”

Y/n chuckled with deep annoyance, “You know what? Fuck you, Kent. I’m not one of your footballers you can boss around any time you’re in a shit mood,” she stuck a finger out at Roy, “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Oi!” Keeley exclaimed, her heels slapping against the floor as she marched back, “Both of you, stop it. Come on!”

Roy and Y/n broke their stare, Jamie was rounding the corner and heading out the hotel’s doors. Sparing each other one more hardened glare, they followed Keeley.

The three of them exited the hotel, Keeley spotting Jamie passing the Richmond bus, and they traced his path. Against all she told herself, Y/n went on her own free will, chasing him through the Manchester evening.

Keeley’s stalking technique involved scurrying behind cars and lampposts, while Y/n clung to building walls. Ever the least subtle of any group, Roy simply walked the street, not using much caution to mask his presence.

They followed Jamie through neighborhoods and into the inner part of the city. They crossed bridges, climbed stairs and finally ended up on one side of a florescent lit tunnel. On their descent down the steps, they lost sight of him.

“The fuck is he?” Roy asked.

“I don’t know,” Keeley answered, “You’ve lost him.”

Roy glanced around them, “You said he went down here.”

“I did not,” Keeley argued, “You said that.”

“No, I said he’s in a tunnel,” Roy corrected as the three of them marched down the way, “I didn’t say he was in this tunnel. She’s the one who thought it was this one.”

“He did come down this one,” Y/n said sternly.

“Well, there’s no other tunnel, is there?” Keeley reprimanded them, “I don’t believe it. You’ve lost Jamie Tartt.”

“We didn’t lose him,” Y/n argued, silently worried. The second she’d lost eyes on Jamie was the second their surroundings suddenly became unsettling.

“You can’t lose Jamie Tartt,” Roy replied.

“Well, you have,” Keeley fired back.

“OI!”

Roy, Keeley and Y/n jumped at the exclaim, spinning around and shouting various expletives.

“Fucking hell!”

“What the fuck?!”

Jamie stood, hood over his head and hands in his pockets. “Why are you following me?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you prick,” Roy spoke kind words with contrasting anger.

“What’s going on, Jamie?” Keeley asked, “Are you buying drugs?”

Jamie’s confused stare turned to Y/n, he locked up. The three weeks of not seeing her made her sudden presence feel like a hallucination.

Any face Y/n had been wearing dropped the second her eyes met Jamie’s. This was the closest they’d been since that night outside her apartment.

They came back to themselves quickly, hiding whatever they were feeling for the sake of Keeley and Roy being present.

Jamie nodded towards the path ahead of them, “Come on.”

Roy, Keeley and Y/n followed without question as Jamie guided them through the tunnel. It led up to a crowded neighborhood, a council estate that looked like it had seen better days.

Y/n made an effort to follow Roy, keeping as much distance as she could between her and Jamie. Her presence would probably mess with his head even more so than her absence might have. She was starting to wonder if the choice to come had been a selfish one.

They passed a group of kids kicking a football against a brick wall.

“Oi,” one of them called, “Are you Jamie Tartt?”

Jamie pushed back his hood, “Yeah.”

“More like Jamie Fart,” the youngest taunted.

“Screw you, dickhead,” the tallest one shouted, “Prick!”

“Yeah, who are you?”

“City’s gonna fuck you up tomorrow!”

Through the haranguing of insults, Jamie smiled, glancing over to Keeley, and sneaking one at Y/n. He led them away towards the row of houses.

Roy stuck around, turning to stare down the kids, who’d gone dead silent. Y/n readied herself to drag Roy away kicking and screaming from unloading on them.

Instead, he held up his hands in an ‘ok’ sign, “Good lads.”

While the kids were clearly thrilled at having been complimented by the Roy Kent, Y/n slapped his arm as hard as she could. Roy grasped it and silently protested before Y/n pointed to where Jamie and Keeley had gone off to.

They arrived on the doorsteps of one of the houses. Jamie rang the doorbell and they waited till a pair of eyes popped through one of the door’s glass bits.

“Hey,” the man exclaimed before opening the door, greeting them with a wide grin, “Jamie!”

“How you doing, Simon?” Jamie smiled and pointed to the group, “This is Keeley, that’s Roy, and that’s Y/n.”

“Come on in, come on in,” Simon waved them into the home.

Jamie entered first, shaking Simon’s hand, “How are you, mate? Good seeing you, man.”

“Yeah, great,” Simon replied as he ushered his guests in.

Keeley, Roy and Y/n all gave various greetings as they crossed the threshold. None of them knew quite where they were.

“Georgie,” Simon called up the stairs, “We’ve got visitors!”

A female voice called back down, “What was that, love? Someone at the door?”

Jamie made a beeline for the bottom of the staircase, just as a woman stopped at the top, frozen by what lay in front of her.

“Hello, Mommy.”

Y/n’s eyes widened.

Georgie screamed as she ran down the steps, leaping into her son’s arms. “Jamie!”

“Mommy, I’d like to introduce you to Keeley,” Jamie turned to face his friends, “And this hairy prick’s Roy,” his smile dropped an imperceptible inch, “And that’s Y/n over there.”

“Hi,” Keeley greeted in her normal bubbly tone.

“Hi,” Y/n managed to eek out, holding up a nervous hand.

“Hey, you,” Roy said smoothly.

“Hi,” Georgie greeted them all while hugging Jamie once more, “It’s lovely to finally meet you all. I’d come and give you a hug,” she squeezed the sides of her son’s face, “But I’m not letting go of this one!”

Jamie lifted his mom into the air and spun her around.

“There they go,” Simon observed, “Right, who wants some sweet treats?”

Simon slipped off deeper into the house while Georgie and Jamie stayed in their embrace.

“Look at your gorgeous face,” she exclaimed as Jamie carried them both down the hallway, “I love it. How have you been? Look at you.”

Run. All of Y/n’s instincts told her to run right back out that door and take her chances with being abducted in the sketchy tunnel. Roy and Keeley must have sensed her unease because Keeley reached back for Y/n’s hand and Roy kept behind her, forcing her inside.

Georgie and Jamie had managed to separate long enough for Jamie to snuggle up against his mom on the living room couch. Keeley, Y/n and Roy stood at the entrance to the room, unsure of where to go.

“Oh, come and sit down,” Georgie gestured to the rest of the room.

Keeley and Roy entered less hesitatingly than Y/n, who took up a seat on the arm of the couch. To say she was uncomfortable was an understatement of epic proportions. Here she’d gone to every effort to avoid Jamie, and she’d ended up in what was clearly his childhood home with his mother.

She glanced over at the shrine to Jamie on the far wall, various pictures of him from different stages of life proudly displayed. Baby pictures all the way to league headshots. Y/n wanted to evaporate into thin air.

Simon popped back into the room with a plate of baked goods, dishing one out to each of his guests as Georgie and Jamie talked.

“It was just poopy,” Jamie quietly vented to his mom, his thick accent changing the word entirely, “You know, it really upset me. This guy on Twitter, he kept saying that it was blonde, but I’m like, ‘It’s fucking walnut mist, mate.’”

Y/n nearly spit out the bite of scone she was chewing. If this whole debacle was about his vanity, she’d march out the door. They’d argued several times over the exact shade of the highlights.

“Yeah, obviously,” Georgie agreed, stroking her son’s hair, “He’s done a lovely job, it’s dead natural.”

Simon finished pouring the tea, looking up expectantly at the party. “What do you think?”

Keeley smiled, “It’s really yummy.”

“Yeah, it’s wonderful,” Y/n managed to find her voice.

Keeley elbowed Roy, who was lost staring at the sight of his former nemesis cuddled up with his mother like a lost child. “It’s fucking delicious,” he said distractedly before returning.

“Well, it’s a Paul Hollywood recipe, but I’ve gone a little bit rogue on it,” Simon explained.

Allowing herself to slip back into a world where Jamie was damn near the center, Y/n wondered who Simon was. He clearly wasn’t Jamie’s biological father, he was the complete antithesis of the man she’d heard horror stories about. Jamie had never mentioned having a step-dad.

“Babes,” Georgie said softly, “Do you wanna give Roy, Keeley and Y/n the grand tour? Show them around a bit?”

“Yes,” Simon agreed, catching the signals his wife was throwing at him. “Good idea. Thank—“ he stood and hit his head on the overhead light, “Oops! Right, follow me. We will start in the kitchen, aka my laboratory.”

Y/n was the first to stand, but fell behind Keeley, making her a buffer. When Roy hesitated to leave, she tugged him harshly out the room.

“Fuckin’ grip you’ve got,” he complained as they walked to the kitchen.

“Oh, bite me,” Y/n retorted. Keeley had good intentions, but she was ready to kick Roy for dragging her into this.

Simon took them on a full tour of the house, showcasing his kitchen and its appliances off as if they were his most prized possessions. All along the walls of the house were pictures of him and Georgie on various trips and holidays. Scattered between them were childhood pictures of Jamie.

Eventually, Simon led them up the stairs and down a short hall. “And here is the main attraction,” he announced, opening a door and flipping on a light, “Jamie’s room.”

“Oh, sweet Lord,” Y/n muttered under her breath. This was way too deep in.

The room seemed untouched since the day Jamie had left it. Both childhood toys and teen paraphernalia were stacked on shelves and dressers. The bedding had a football pattern to it and there were various trophies for the sport nearby. On the walls, there were school certificates and diplomas and-

“Fucking hell.”

Y/n turned to see a poster of Roy, sporting a Chelsea kit and a very shaggy haircut tacked to Jamie’s wall.

“Ah, yes,” Simon looked to the footballer, “Many posters have come and gone over the years. Henry, Gerrard, Ronaldo…but Roy Kent, always remains.”

Y/n slapped a hand over her mouth and snorted, ignoring the daggers Roy was sending her way.

An phone alarm went off and Simon pulled the device out of his pocket. “Oh! Meat pies are done,” he said, “Excuse me.”

As he shut the door, another poster was revealed. This one of Keeley during her more risqué modeling days, holding two footballs against her breasts.

“Fucking hell,” she grunted.

“Yep, no, can’t do it,” Y/n finally found her voice and the doorknob. She wasn’t sure she could spend another second in Jamieland without her head exploding. “Simon!”

Their friendly host had barely made it down one of the stairs, “Yeah?”

“Let me help you with the pies,” Y/n jogged down the hall.

“Oh, no, you go ahead and look around,” he said kindly.

“No, really,” Y/n followed him down the staircase, “You’re kind enough to deal with three strangers barging into your house. It’s the least I can do.”

Simon scoffed lightheartedly as he led them into the kitchen, “No friend of Jamie’s is a stranger in this house,” he slipped on a pair of oven mitts, “Right, if you want to place these on the cooling rack.”

Simon pulled out the tray of pies and set them on the stove. Y/n went about setting them on the racks, wondering if she’d made the better choice. Now, instead of sitting in Jamie’s bedroom, she was cooking with his step-dad.

“So,” Simon spoke as he moved about the kitchen, “I can gather what brought Jamie here, but what made you three tag along?”

“Oh,” Y/n searched for an explanation, “He’s been a bit…off…lately and we were just worried about him.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” he replied, “Coming home’s a big deal, especially in this case.”

Y/n furrowed her brows, “How do you figure?”

“Well, if you were playing against your hometown in your hometown,” Simon wiped his hands on his apron, “Might stir up some feelings.”

Said out in the open, it all sounded so obvious. Of course Jamie was struggling with playing Man City. Not only that, he hadn’t spoken to his dad in ages and it was almost guaranteed the bastard would show up to cheer against his own son.

Y/n sighed, she felt like an idiot.

“Speaking of home,” Simon broke her out of her head, “Your accent doesn’t suggest you’re from around here.”

“No,” Y/n returned to their conversation, “I, uh, moved here for school and never left.”

“Oh, fascinating. What made you stay?”

Y/n shrugged and placed the last of the pies on the cooling rack. “I was just settled and didn’t want to leave.”

“That must’ve been awful for your parents,” Simon said, “When Jamie moved to London, Georgie was devastated, and that’s only a half day’s drive. I can’t imagine a whole ocean’s worth of distance.”

If Y/n thought the night couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, the mention of her parents proved her wrong. Between the location, a vulnerable Jamie in the next room, and her family being brought up, she thought she might burst into tears.

“They’re okay with it,” she answered.

“Gosh,” Simon commented, stood at the island, “That can’t be true.”

“It is,” Y/n replied quickly and spun around, attempting a smile, “But I’ve got a lovely life here.”

“Of course,” he grinned, “Working for a football club’s got to be exciting. Jamie’s mentioned you plenty.”

Y/n wasn’t moving, but she could feel everything inside her stop. “Jamie’s…mentioned me?”

“Loads,” Simon nodded, “He calls round every once in a while. Obviously he keeps busy, but the name Y/n has come up nearly every conversation. I thought I might break into hives when Georgie told me about the Christmas dinner you two cooked.”

Simon began to recount all the memories shared between Jamie and Y/n that he and Georgie had become privy to. It wasn’t just the more notable moments like their chaotic Christmas or helping Y/n move to Richmond, but the little ones too. Sneaking into the stadium for lunch breaks in the seats. Post-match interviews Y/n oversaw and how Jamie would try and make her laugh with his answers. Y/n making Jamie decorate his house because the bareness of it drove her crazy. Jamie showing up on Y/n’s doorstep on her birthday right at midnight. Trying to learn how to cook together after the disastrous Christmas dinner and kind of, almost, sort of succeeding. Picking one another’s songs at team karaoke nights. Conversations in the hallways of Nelson Road. Movies and shows suggested to one another and the reactions that followed.

The whole of Jamie and Y/n’s relationship was played back for her in his parent’s kitchen.

She was speechless.

“I, uh,” she managed, her eyes beginning to glisten, “I didn’t know Jamie talked that much about his friends.”

“His friends?” Simon looked to Y/n before ducking his eyes away when he saw she was serious, “Oh, yes…his friends.”

The small slip was enough to confirm what Y/n already suspected.

“Um,” she said, her throat suddenly thick, “It’s getting late. Would you mimd telling Roy and Keeley I took a cab back to the hotel?”

“Of course,” Simon smiled, “Can I send you home with a pie?”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Y/n was already crossing the kitchen, “But thank you so much for the scones. Please tell Georgie thank you for letting us interrupt your night.”

Simon waved her off, “Nonsense. Get back safe.”

Y/n speed walked down the hall, not sparing so much as a glance in the living room’s direction. She threw the front door open and hurried down the way. With shaking hands, she pulled out her phone and ordered an Uber.

Her breath came in quick puffs, the anxiety creating quite a home in her chest. She was on the verge of having the worst anxiety attack of her life, all because she’d come to the conclusion that she was cared for. No, this wasn’t care. This was something else entirely.

Little did she know, the second he’d heard her brush through the hall, Jamie was on high alert. He’d looked up from his mom, jumping to a seated position as the door slammed shut.

“Was that Y/n?” He asked Simon as he passed by the living room.

“Yes, she said she had to get back to the hotel,” Simon answered, grabbing the plate of half eaten scones from the coffee table.

Jamie was up and off the couch in an instant, hurrying down the hall and out the front door. Y/n was stood on the sidewalk, her hand pressed to her chest as if she was on the verge of collapsing.

“Hey.”

Y/n’s head whipped around, Jamie was jogging down the steps to her. He kept a fair bit of distance between them at first, unsure of how she felt about his presence. All she could do was attempt another breath.

“Hey,” Jamie crossed the space, deciding to reach for Y/n’s arms, “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head and avoided meeting Jamie’s concerned eyes.

“No, what’s wrong?” Jamie’s thumbs stroked over her sweater.

For all her fight, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to battle the warm grip Jamie had on her. She’d missed it.

“I’m fine, Jamie,” she lied once more, “I just want to go back to the hotel.”

Jamie scanned her face, finding the tears in her red eyes before she could hide them. Just as much as there was something wrong with him, there was something eating away at Y/n.

In the three weeks they’d stayed away from one another, Jamie had found life to be unbearable. The anxiety about playing Man City and the possibility of seeing his father once more had manifested in his playing. He’d struggled through training more and more, slowly becoming paralyzed by the lack of his usual fire. Without Y/n there to go and vent all his fears to, someone who understood without him ever having to explain a thing, it had all snowballed. Breaking down in the boot room and sobbing into Roy’s shoulder could have been avoided. His panic attack when Keeley had come to his room to check on him would have never happened.

But it wasn’t just that. Jamie found himself missing Y/n in the dullest of moments. Making dinner for himself, searching for something on television, driving home from work. Sleep was nearly impossible now that he’d gotten to fade out with her in his arms. The vacancy she’d left in his life was overwhelming. Jamie had never wanted to share such insignificant moments with someone in his life. He’d never felt as unsettled without someone.

This wasn’t some infatuation. He couldn’t live without her.

“Look,” Jamie tilted her head up, her eyes finally meeting his, “I know everything’s wrecked a-and we fucked it all up but…” his breath came out trembling, “But I love you.”

Y/n cries began to shake her chest.

“And I know this is the worst fucking time to say it,” Jamie bit back a laugh, but he felt ten tons lighter with the words finally spoken, “But I don’t regret what happened. If I could go back and do it a hundred times over, I would.”

A single cry escaped Y/n.

“And I need you,” Jamie spoke urgently, dragging a hand to Y/n’s cheek, brushing a thumb over the wet skin, “I need you with me ‘cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’ without you. I don’t. You’ve fucking ruined me.”

Y/n was caught somewhere between a frown and a smile. Her worst fear and her greatest wish.

“Don’t leave, please,” Jamie pleaded, slipping his free hand around Y/n’s waist when she didn’t recoil at his touch. “I wanna be with you.”

Y/n’s sobs caused her whole body to shudder, which only made Jamie to pull her closer. She ended up enveloped in his arms, the only place she’d truly desired to be since the moment she’d left them.

Jamie pressed a kiss to Y/n’s forehead, trying to ease whatever pain and pour out his sentiments. The relief of holding her again was all-consuming and he reveled in it.

For a moment, they both realized what they could have. They could put the whole horrid separation behind them and let themselves be happy. They could come home to one another. They could hold nothing back from each other. They could build a life together and give each other all the love they’d ever been deprived of.

Where Jamie felt hope, cradling the girl he loved, Y/n felt panic, fearing the risk more than the loss.

“Jamie,” she whispered, “No.”

Jamie pulled back, fearfully gazing into her bloodshot eyes. “What do you mean?”

“No,” Y/n repeated, “We can’t.”

“Wh-“ he stammered, she was slipping away from him, “What are you talking about? We can.”

Y/n whined, “I can’t, Jamie. I can’t.”

“You can, you can,” Jamie insisted, holding Y/n’s cheek with purpose. He caught the headlights of the Uber coming down his street, “Why? Why can’t we have this?”

“Tell me,” Jamie softly begged, “Tell me why. Why can’t we have this?”

Finally, Y/n’s emotions burst, everything flooding out in a mess of terror.

“Because I don’t want this,” she exclaimed tearfully, “I don’t want this, Jamie. I don’t want y-“

She caught herself before she could finish it, but it was still too late. The damage had been done, and the wreckage spread across Jamie’s face. His lips parted in shock and his touch lost its urgency.

In her blind panic, Y/n hadn’t expected such a lie to come out of her mouth. But there was no taking it back, and the fear of all Jamie was ready to give was possessing her. This was the only way to keep herself safe.

Behind them, the Uber driver had pulled up to the house. “Oi, one of you Y/n?”

Y/n blinked up at Jamie, who was searching her eyes for the dishonesty in what she’d said. He found it so easily, but her determination to run was visibly clearer.

“Please let me go,” Y/n asked, her voice barely audible. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes as she spoke.

Jamie knew there was no more fight to give. He’d poured the contents of his heart out to her fruitlessly. He couldn’t force her to face the truth, that she might love him back, or that she even cared that he loved her. He was out of plays to make, all he could do was let her walk away.

He dropped his hands as slow as he could, savoring the last feel of her he’d get. Y/n trembled as his fingers left her face, committing his touch to her memory. This was the end before they even reached the beginning.

“In or out, love,” the driver interrupted.

Summoning the last of her strength, Y/n sought out Jamie’s eyes, glistening with tears now. She’d dealt the ultimate blow to an already wounded soldier. Slowly, she backed away from him, fighting every urge to run back into his arms and take it all back. If he took one step towards her, she knew she’d do it.

Jamie obeyed her wishes and didn’t move.

With one final gaze, Y/n turned away, climbing into the backseat of the Uber. He didn’t wait to drive, pulling the car away from as soon as she’d shut the door.

Y/n watched Jamie in the rear view mirror before it became too much. She dissolved to silent wracking sobs, caving in on herself. Not only had she walked away from the man she knew she surely loved, but she’d broken his heart doing so. The self-destruction was no longer only affecting her, she was destroying those around her.

Jamie wiped a shaking hand over his face as he watched the car carry Y/n away. He struggled to comprehend all that had just happened. He’d lost her.

Somehow, he carried himself back inside. He shuffled robotically back into the living room. His mum and Simon were seated on the couch, speaking in hushed tones.

Georgie looked expectantly to her son. Jamie had never needed to talk about him and Y/n in so many words. She knew exactly what he felt. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Jamie stared ahead at the carpet.

“Did you talk to her?” Georgie asked, asking something far deeper.

Jamie nodded.

“Does she feel the same?”

There was the true answer, and there was the easy answer. Jamie chose the latter.

“No.”

——————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Stories and Dolls

A/N – Okay, so I just quit my job and I’m freefalling right now. Time to channel my anxiety into fanfiction. Also, this chapter is darker so I’m raising the rating to M.

Warnings – MENTIONS OF RAPE, S/A, ABUSE, KIDNAPPING, AND TORTURE.

Rating – M

TAG-LIST: @lxkeee @moonieper @sle3pyh3ad2 @gomib0 @mixplara @ica1

FEMALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Lucifer had to admit, he was getting used to you. He enjoyed making breakfast a show in the morning, entertaining you with his parlour tricks and general showmanship. You were like a child, easily amused by flashing lights or some sleight of hand.

And of a night, he also found your company less than objectionable, whether you were reading a book in the library with Spick and Span curled up at your feet, in front of a roaring fire (you had conjured them medallions with their names on them, so as to tell them apart), or those nights when you came back from visiting the hotel and regaled him with the tales of its inhabitants. Lucifer was starting to like Angel Dust, even if he didn’t believe the porn star actually had a chance at redemption. Nifty also seemed entertaining, Husk could be a source of wisdom and comfort in equal measure, and Alastair… Well, he was there too, taking up too much of your attention.

Yet, despite his newfound almost-friendship with you, he couldn’t help thinking about what you had said on your first night in the manor.

‘You don’t even know why I’m down here, and you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same.’

You were right. He didn’t know why you were there, and that was driving him crazy. He wanted to like you. Truly, he did. But how could he like you when he didn’t know your sin? People got sent to Hell for a reason! They wasted their free will. They sold drugs to kids, murdered people, trafficked victims, tricked and swindled others. For all Lucifer knew, you were there for drowning puppies.

The thought made him deeply uncomfortable.

Okay. He would ask you about it. No big deal. People probably talked about why they went to Hell a lot right? That was a normal conversation for Sinners, probably…

Lucifer wasn’t entirely wrong in thinking that. However, nearly all Sinners lied about what they went to Hell for, making it even more brutal or horrifying to try and earn some extra credit among their fellow Demons. Someone who had killed one person would claim to have been a serial killer. A low-life drug dealer would paint themselves as a mafioso with a drug empire, and arsonists… They didn’t have to lie much, as fires tended to spread quickly and they generally were as psychotic as they claimed to be.

It was all basic self-preservation in Hell. Be the toughest person there, so nobody could find new ways to hurt you. Kill or be killed (figuratively, since Demons couldn’t technically kill other Demons), sink or swim, do unto others before they did unto you.

Right. When Lucifer next saw you, he would ask.

“Hey Lucifer,” You said upon returning to the manor from the Hotel, “You doing okay?”

Lucifer froze. He hadn’t expected to see you so soon. Fuck.

“Hey bitch,” Lucifer greeted, feeling entirely awkward, yet trying to feign confidence.

“Uh… Back at ya,” You reciprocated confusedly.

“Sooooo,” Lucifer started, steepling his fingers together, and holding them to his mouth, his brow knitting together worriedly, “I have a question for you.”

“Oh.” You were surprised by Lucifer’s admission. While the two of you generally made conversation, he didn’t tend to ask too much. Besides, in the preface of announcing his question, it seemed that he was likely to ask you something personal.

You waved your hand casually, indicating that he was free to ask away.

“How- Uh how was everything at the Hotel? Is my little girl doing okay?”

As you smiled and fell into a description of how Charlie was doing and her general excitement about her meeting with Heaven, Lucifer cursed himself. He knew that what he wanted to ask was important, but it was just so personal. Well, at least he was happy to hear about his daughter. There were also some other colourful stories included in your conversation.

Finally, you wrapped up the conversation, effectively ending it when you casually said, “Anyway, I’m going to get ready for bed. I’m real tired, you know?”

Lucifer didn’t say much as you left, he was still pondering whether you might be a puppy killer or relative and accomplice to that Jeffrey Dahmer fellow, or something equally disturbing. If not… Why were you there?

Having gotten ready for bed, you sighed, letting the day’s events wash over you, lifting a weight off your shoulders. You were tired, but the day had been a good productive one. Moreover, it was nice to end the day by standing out on the balcony, overlooking the rest of Hell.

There was a time when you had died, during which you stood atop a building in the main streets watching all the fights, looting, and maiming, and you were horrified. Then, you met Charlie, and she had been so wonderfully pure, good, and non-judgemental that you had to agree with her. Hell could be a home to you, and all the other Sinners who lived there, and Sinners could always change for the better.

While you held onto the balcony railing, leaning over it, and staring at the red horizon, Lucifer approached your open door at the entrance of your room, knocking despite the open invitation to come in.

You turned and smiled at him, your smile putting him at ease.

“Come in,” You offered.

He did so, crossing the large room and taking quick mental notes of the changes you had made. They were minor, but they spoke of your personality. You had lit scented candles, brightening the room – the official scent name was Tapioca Tit-play.

Subconsciously, Lucifer worked his magic to remove the off-smell that he had placed there; it was redundant when your candles covered it, and he didn’t mind your company so much anymore.

He also observed several other items. There was a photograph of everyone at the Hotel, though you had drawn Alastor on the end in crayon since he didn’t love to be captured in photographs (he could bear it unlike being filmed, but he didn’t care much for it.)

Wrapped around your bedposts were nightlights to keep out the dark. On your bed, you had a teddy of one of Sir Pentious’ egg-bois, a gift from him. Husk had gifted you with a bottle of his best Whiskey, though it remained unopened on the nightstand. There was a cockroach/daisy hybrid necklace wrapped around a book. The candles were from Angel Dust. Beneath your pillow was a dagger, gifted by Vaggie, for your protection. Alastor had given you a collection of books from the store in Cannibal Town, including several that were rumoured to have been stolen from Heaven’s library, though nobody was certain where that rumour started or if it was even true, though there were no copies of the books anywhere else in Hell.

Although Lucifer had no way of knowing these items were all presents from your friends at the Hazbin Hotel, he could tell that you cared deeply for the odd assortment by their placement on the two bedside tables; they had been positioned with care, and were well looked after.

Then, his eye caught the rubber duck, slightly hidden behind the picture frame. He remembered making that one. As a hellhound imitation, it was meant to teleport to whoever needed it most inside the Manor, offering protection should they come under attack. Naturally, he and his family didn’t need such protection, but he had been experimenting with what powers he might imbue unto yet another duck.

He decided not to mention it as he joined you on the balcony, looking you over in your pyjamas.

You also spared him a glance, noting that he seemed more relaxed. Although he was still in his usual attire, he had removed his top-hat-crown and his overcoat, revealing the waistcoat and shirt beneath; the sleeves were rolled up, giving him a more casual appearance.

“Hell’s skies are beautiful, aren’t they,” You stated, returning your gaze to the horizon.

Lucifer looked up, but all he saw was Heaven, the home that didn’t want him.

“(Y/N),” He started, forcing himself to look down, so he wouldn’t have to stare at the painfully beautiful golden glow above.

“Hm?”

“How did you end up here?”

Your grip tightened on the railing drawing Lucifer’s gaze to the whites of your knuckles.

Your whole body became tense and you answered with a ragged breath, “I died.”

“Yes but-” Lucifer was about to lead into the question of your sins, but you spoke up again, seemingly misunderstanding the question as you continued, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“I was- I was murdered.”

Lucifer could have explained that the cause of your death wasn’t what he had been driving at, but now he was darkly fascinated. If you were the same kind-hearted, warm person in life, why would anyone wish to bring about your death?

He remained silent as you began recounting the manner in which you had been killed.

“I had a friend,” You started slowly, taking steady breaths between each part of the story that followed as if it would make it any easier. “I mean- I- I thought he was my friend. I loved him. He knew that. He counted on it.”

“I thought that he travelled for work. That’s what he told me. It’s why he was always coming and going. But no… He was just looking for more people like me. He found people. Made us fall for him. Then he- he took me out on a date. Blindfolded me. Said it was a surprise. I- I trusted him, but the blindfold just made it easier for him to- He knocked me out.”

You subconsciously touched the back of your head, remembering the blow that had come with no warning.

Lucifer turned to you, one hand holding onto the railing, the other planted firmly at his side.

“Did he-” He started to ask.

You shook your head. “It wasn’t rape. It was worse.”

You shivered, waiting until you were certain you weren’t going to vomit. Then you continued, your skin ashy.

“I woke up in a- It was like a cinderblock cell, but it had been sort of decorated to look like a fancy suite?”

You recalled the room. It was damp, and the floor was cheaply produced concrete, given away by the amount of air bubbles which had never been levelled and now pocked the surface, like a teenager with bad acne. The cinderblock walls were easy to see, though some talented artist had been paid to paint it with the likeness of the Ritz hotel or somewhere equally fancy. While that had made it look better, it was still clearly a cinderblock wall; then again, you can’t polish a turd, but you can roll it in glitter.

You had been handcuffed to a chair in the centre of the room. Your clothes had been taken, and you had been dressed in a skimpy shortened tuxedo, with a fitted vest instead of a jacket. You remembered screaming till your voice was raw. You screamed so much that you ended up spitting flecks of blood, but nobody came to save you.

“I- I was tied up,” You said simply, downplaying the memory to Lucifer, more for your own sake than his, though he could see the pain behind your eyes.  

Lucifer didn’t interrupt your story, but his anger was growing. Behind him his tail lashed furiously, his eyes became flaming red, and his fangs became sharper. You hadn’t noticed, you were lost in memory, and you had yet to look his way since beginning your story.

You sighed, thinking of the torture, humiliation, and suffering which followed, all at the hands of one man. It wasn’t your captor. It was who he had sold you to.

“It- I was- They were making snuff films. I don’t know how many people died there before or after me but- I was sold to an American. He- He liked to cut things. It was a while before- I don’t know if I bled out, or if my heart stopped, maybe both?”

For the first time, your skin changed colour, turning from your regular human shade to a pale seaweed-green. Against the colourful backdrop, Lucifer could see your now blinding white glowing scars. Upon your death they remained hidden, completely invisible, but now you were distressed… You seemingly did have something of a Demonic appearance after all.

You were a ragdoll.

There wasn’t a part of your body that hadn’t been cut, or originally sliced off, only to be repaired in death. In all likelihood, your real body was probably burned, buried, or dissolved in acid. In Hell, your scars were the stitches that held your body together. Lucifer now understood your human appearance since like a real ragdoll, you were good at playing dress-up. He bet that if you explored your abilities, you would have been able to look like anyone, a skin-changer, but you had adopted your appearance in life; it was likely an accident caused by the trauma of your memories.

“(Y/N),” Lucifer said through gritted teeth. He wanted to be comforting, but he was already thinking of all the ways he would punish your killer and any accomplice he may have had. There were worse things than Death in hell; he would torture those bastards for eternity, and then when he finally grew bored, he would end them with angelic weaponry, wiping their souls from existence, leaving no trace of such monsters.

You didn’t turn to face your King, who was now in his full Demonic form, his rage at its peak.

“Just go,” You murmured despondently, staring over the balcony, and down to the ground. A long drop and a short stop… It was a shame it wouldn’t kill you; at least the pain would end if you died.

“But-” Lucifer reached you to put a hand on your shoulder, his wings almost curling around you as if to envelop you.

“I- I would like to be alone. Please.”

Lucifer hesitantly withdrew his hand, “I’m sorry.”

That was all he said before walking away, leaving you alone.

You wished that you could have been left to wallow, but your phone soon buzzed and you opted to check it in case it was an emergency.

Retrieving it from the bed, you found a message from Charlie.

“EMERGENCY. ANGEL DUST. RELAPSE. GET OVER HERE. PLEASE!”

Damn it! If Charlie was texting you for this, it meant that Husk was either the cause or he wasn’t around to be the solution. Moreover, while Charlie would want to assist her friend, she was likely the last person Angel Dust wanted to see; sometimes, though she was well-intentioned, she just didn’t understand such issues or she could be a bit much.

Still stuck in your ragdoll body, you ran back to the balcony and vaulted over the edge. It wasn’t a smooth landing, and it hurt a lot. Anyone else would have broken their bones, but when you were like this, there wasn’t anything else that could be broken. Everything had already been torn off you. Ignoring the pain, you ran until you found a taxi. You took it to the Hotel.

[limabean42]

I SAW your embarrassment nsfw hcs… can you make one for anxiety as well? With a afab partner (gn is fine if ur uncomfy with that) pls take ur time 😋

♡Anxiety first time smut and general NSFW headcanons♡

Woooo I love Anxiety so much she consumes my every thought not even lying, I want her so bad. Anxiety please marry me I love you more than anything. This one also reads like a oneshot/headcanon combo. Also two posts in one day :0

Thanks for requesting <3

Reader is afab/has female anatomy; this is straight up smut but it gets to be more mild near the end; dominant reader; oral sex

MDNI

Spice level 🌶️: hot and explicit, like way hotter than I was intending it to be. I hope that’s ok

-

• You both would have to be dating a while for the thought to even cross her mind

• When it does, I bet you can guess what happens

• She overthinks everything

• Not only is she worried about doing sexual activities for the first time but how it will happen

• She hasn’t the slightest clue on how to proceed with anything sexual

• She doesn’t know if you want her to be on top or bottom, or how to preform

• Once you bring up the idea to her she’s honestly relieved because she doesn’t have to burden this worry alone anymore

• “I’m so glad you brought this up. I’ve been thinking about it constantly.” she sighed in relief

• She then became hyperaware of what she just said and realized she sounded like she’s been constantly nonstop horny this entire time, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not a pervert I’ve just been worried about how we’ll have sex… if we do at all I mean. We don’t have to.”

• You’re used to her rambling awkward behavior so you just giggle and comfort her

• Before you two actually have sex for the first time you have a long chat

• The purpose of this chat was for Anxiety to relieve some anxiety about the situation that’s going to happen soon

• Of course she asked a ton of questions like what she should do to make you feel good, how it gets started, and if she should top or bottom for the first time

• You said whatever comes naturally for her and whenever you both are in the mood

• She felt a little better but realized the best way to not stress about the situation was to do it and learn from experience

• Surprisingly you two didn’t talk about it for the next few days. She was initially expecting to do it that day or the next, but she did still need some time to process

• One day while she was in her massage chair after almost having another panic attack her mind started to wander to dirty territories

• She thought of you kissing her and all the noises you’d make

• She thought of caressing your body and how soft you’d feel as she grasped you tightly in her hands

• She thought of your fingers caressing her chilled body and slipping inside her

• At this point she was in her own fantasy world, becoming increasingly in the mood to finally have you all to herself

• Anxiety’s eyes drifted to the control panel. All the emotions including you were there, too intrigued with what was going on to realize her daydreaming. Too busy to realize the growing wetness between her legs

• Her eyes drifted to you and lingered there. She began to think again. What would your cute face contort to once she made you cum? Would you be loud, quiet, or somewhere in between?

• Suddenly she wasn’t nervous anymore, just horny. That’s how she knew it was showtime

• Anxiety got up from her chair. It was time for something else to make her feel good

• She walked toward you and grabbed your hand suddenly, leading you to her bedroom

• You were surprised before you realized where you were going. You smirked

• Anxiety sat you down on her bed and stood between your legs as she went in for a kiss

• She mewled into it and you were pushed down onto the bed, laying on your back

• You reached up and grabbed her waist under her shirt

• She made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a squeal and a moan

• It sounded so hot. You had to have her now

• You flipped her over so that she was below you

• While you continued to kiss, you reached your hand under her sweater again and up to grab her petite tits

• “Oh fuck” she muttered impulsively and then covered her mouth with both hands after realizing what she said

• “It’s okay, let me take care of you. Let all your words out.” You respond as you put your head under her sweater and start kissing her torso up and down

• Anxiety let out a few breathy moans. This felt better than she anticipated

• You lifted her arms up and dragged her sweater over her head, revealing her bare chest

• Truth is, Anxiety is pretty insecure. Even about her appearance

• She didn’t think she was the most attractive emotion out there and sometimes found it hard to believe you thought she was beautiful the same way she thinks you are beautiful

• So when you lift off her sweater her arms cover her chest while her hands shield her embarrassed face from you

• “It’s okay Anxiety, you’re amazing.” you responded to her gesture, bringing your lips down to encompass her nipple

• “Thank you. You are too.” She stuttered out, gripping your hair

• Her breath is shaky as you continue sucking, switching from one breast to the other

• You trailed more kisses down her torso and stop at her pants. You unzip them and pull everything down to reveal her downstairs area

• Anxiety squirmed as you used your middle and pointer finger to spread her folds

• “Cute” you commented

• Even though it was a subtle remark it made her insides clench

• You put a finger inside her and started moving slowly

• She squirmed so you held her down with your other hand as you started moving your finger quicker in and out of her tight insides

• That’s when you discovered she’s pretty loud in bed

• After she was even more soaked from you fingering her, you decided to eat her out

• If you thought she was loud before then you’re in for a sweet treat

• There’s no possible way the others didn’t hear her from rooms away

• Both of you were enjoying yourselves though. Too caught up in passion to even care what was going on outside the bedroom walls

• You sucked on her delicate clit. She almost screamed

• “Oh my fuck y/n please it feels so good keep going ohmhyfuck I love you I love you so much fuck don’t stop!”

• You continued until she announced she was about to cum

• “Ah y/n I think something’s happening I feel like I’m going to pee it feels so good though don’t stop baby!”

• The pressure buildup finally released and she came with a high pitched squeal. Her whole body was shaking and she was pulsating

• “Let me take care of you now.” She managed to mutter, still recovering from her orgasm

• Before you could even move she was pulling you on top of her face. She practically ripped your bottoms off and moaned and she saw your wet pussy

• “Please use me however you want.” She looked up at you and began to gently lick and suck your clit

• You threw your head back and began using her face

• You were about to cum a couple minutes later

• You grabbed the edge of the bed with one hand and her hair with the other,1 riding her face

• She couldn’t breath well but she was too busy lapping your pussy to care

• When you came she let out her biggest moan yet, almost as if she had cum again just from pleasuring you

• You collapsed on the bed next to her, catching your breath

• You praised her for doing such a good job and she confessed that she did in fact cum again when you did

• “You just looked so euphoric how could I not?” she added

• You two cleaned each other up in the bathroom and went back to bed to cuddle and nap

• In general she’s a very willing partner in bed

• She’ll try almost anything with you as long as it isn’t too far out of her comfort zone

• Doesn’t usually use nicknames for you unless she’s really close

• She’s a switch but usually submissive in both roles. So she’s either a service top or a regular subby bottom. However, maybe something could trigger her to be more dominant on her own one day

• Prefers you to take the lead no matter if you’re topping or bottoming

• Lives for your pleasure and drives to entice praises out of you

• She loves being praised, it gives her the right amount of reinforcement

• The more she’s praised, the more freaky and bold she gets

• Not the type to initiate dirty talk but she’d try if you were saying naughty things to her first

• You know how she has those cute squealing moments in the movie?

• Well I think this goes without saying, but she squeals when she cums

• Also squeaks and squeals when you toss her around

• Likes leaving her socks on during sex

• Curls her toes when she cums

• Is a master with her fingers. Y’all have seen her at the control panel

• You guys invest in a strap on

• That’s a conversation for another day though 🫣

• Likes when you pet her head afterward as she lays on you

• Sometimes she gets an overwhelming euphoric feeling after you two are done and starts crying because she loves you so much

• You wipe her tears away and give her kisses

• Her favorite position would be missionary cause she likes the intimacy of it and being close to you

• She’s mostly vanilla. She wants to try all the basic sex stuff before she explores more kinky concepts

• She will get there eventually though

• Makes a checklist of every kink she’s willing to try and checks them off like immediately after you two are done trying them

• Overall, she’s very soft and servicing once she gets in the horny headspace. Just wants to pleasure you forever <3

-

Thanks for reading! Might have to mark this one as mature later cause sheesh I didn’t expect to make it this spicy. It seems like with each nsfw I write it gets more and more spicy. Anyway, hope you enjoyed :)

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Cruel Weather (Part Three)

requests based off this ask: how the boys react to sissy being physically hurt

warnings: panic attacks, crying, swearing, mentions of injuries, mentions of dying, mentions to throwing up, coma, mentions of medication, lmk if i missed anything!

word count: ~4.5k

General Series Masterlist

part one — part two — part three — part four

a/n this chapter is mostly trevor centered

— — — — — — —

Trevor woke up in a leather recliner in the back corner of Y/N’s hospital room with an IV in his arm, presumably filled with sedatives to calm him down. The weight of the world fell off his shoulders when he heard the now comforting steady machine beep of his girlfriend’s heartbeat. He looked over and softly smiled when he saw that the breathing tube was out and replaced with a nasal canal.

He slowly got out of the recliner and dragged the IV pole with him to the chair next to Y/N’s bed. He bent down and softly kissed her forehead before sitting down and grabbing her hand.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see you laying in a hospital bed,” Trevor whispered. “I’d like it better if I saw those pretty eyes of yours, sweet girl.”

Trevor sighed and felt his eyes watering. He missed Y/N. An unbearable amount. There was only a small period of time where they went without seeing each other. Or, talking, since he does go on extended roadies.

It was killing him.

Trevor didn’t get too long alone time before the rest of the worried mob rushed in. Quinn was ahead of everybody, but Jamie was a close second. Quinn joined Trevor on the side of Y/N’s bed, and Jamie positioned himself at the foot of her hospital bed with both hands on the rail. His head drooped down and tears began to fall.

“I thought I lost her,” Jamie spoke through tears.

Trevor got up immediately to comfort his friend. Quinn took his place in the seat next to Sissy, but not before noticing the IV bag following Trevor.

“Z?” he spoke up. Trevor turned to him and Quinn motioned towards his IV.

“Oh… I uh… apparently had such a severe panic attack and was fighting with the nurses that they had to sedate me instead of giving me an anxiety pill,” Trevor explained. “I’m glad they called you when I asked. Actually, that was all I was asking.”

Everyone had filed into the room by now, so Ellen went to find a nurse for Trevor to check him over one last time before removing the IV. Trevor was glad to be rid of it, but he wasn’t glad about the nasty bruise it left behind. It was tender, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to.

“How are you guys?” Trevor asked the group.

“We made it through the night,” Alex said. That answered Trevor’s question perfectly: not well.

“Barely,” Quinn admitted. He spoke so low that Trevor barely caught it.

“I couldn’t hear anything after Quinn said that Y/N died. I guess it was an anxiety or panic attack… I don’t know. I’ve never really had one. All I know is that Jack had to stop me from running out of the house,” Jamie opened up.

“I threw up,” Quinn added to the sharing.

“I cried on the roof,” Cole said.

“I just… felt numb,” Luke said.

No one really wanted to open up, but it needed to be done. They were all in the same boat.

“At least she’s breathing better on her own,” Jack said in an attempt to shed some light on the situation. The monstrously fucked up situation. A nightmare.

The second official day of Y/N in a coma was proving to be worse than the first day. Especially since her heart stopped the night before. Every moment there was a fear that it would happen again, and that she wouldn’t pull through that time. Every beep on the machine was like a sigh of relief. It meant she was alive. It meant there was a chance that she would wake up.

After a while, Cole asked if he could have some time alone with Y/N. He and Alex were the only two that had not gotten a chance to speak to her in hopes that she could hear them. They were the only two that hadn’t gotten a chance to get everything out without everyone being around.

“I don’t know how everyone else did this,” Cole huffed out a fake laugh. “I guess it’s not too different from when we’re talking to you and you’re too distracted to listen to us.”

Cole sat on the edge of her bed and brushed her hair back, despite the fact that it was already tamed and perfectly in place.

“It was weird not watching a movie with you on facetime last night,” Cole continued. “Turc and I didn’t know what to do. Z offered to show us the list of movies you have planned for us to watch, but I said I wanted to keep the surprise. So you have to wake up before next week, okay? I know you wouldn’t want to get too far behind.”

Cole closed his eyes to keep himself from crying. He knew he should get serious. He knew that he needed to get everything out just in case something like last night happened again. He wished he didn’t have that fear. He wished he didn’t feel like he was holding his breath every second waiting for something to happen.

“My life changed when I met you. All of ours did, but I’m not here to talk about them, am I? I’ve known Jack for a while, but I didn’t meet you until we all went to NTDP, and I wish I met you sooner. You’re like… Wonder Woman. You’re compassionate, yet stubborn. And you will go to battle for the people you care about, which is honestly everyone you meet.

“I can’t think of another person less deserving of this than you. Especially because of the time of year it happened. Only Z and Jamie will be with you until we play against the Ducks, and I think that’s what gets me the most. Besides the whole… well, you know. I love being your best friend number two, and no matter what happens, no one can ever take that away from me. From us. I hope you know half the league asks us about you every day. Suzy demands that he gets hourly updates.”

Cole was saying anything and everything to keep from breaking down, but it was no use. He couldn’t get any words out now from how hard he was crying. He climbed off the bed so that he could lay his head down on the mattress and sob. Jack tried to run in, but Cole turned him away. He needed to cry it all out. Y/N’s constant saying that “the break will be harder the longer you keep everything in” was proving to be correct. He hadn’t let his feelings out all the way, yet. And the break was brutal.

The person that Cole did eventually let in was Trevor. Trevor got it. Trevor got him. Trevor sat down quietly next to him and waited to be needed. It didn’t take long for Cole to need a hug, and Trevor was happy to give it to him.

“We’ll make it through this,” Trevor told him. “I promise. No matter what. We’ll all still have each other.”

“But we might not have Sissy,” Cole sniffled.

“Careful, or I’ll tell her you used your once a month Sissy passes,” Trevor tried to joke. It fell flat, unsurprisingly. “I’m choosing not to think about losing her. I know our girl. I know my girl. She’s randomly flown to Van Couver to see Quinn and forgot to tell me. It scared the living shit out of me, but she came back. She always comes back.”

“She always comes back,” Cole repeated, more to trick himself into believing it.

“That’s right, buddy. She always comes back.”

– – –

Right outside Sissy’s hospital room, Alex was freaking out. He was struggling so hard at the idea of talking to Y/N like it might be the last time he’d ever talk to her alone again.

“I can’t! I can-” Alex was cut off by him choking down his own cries. He felt like he needed to scream. Jack and Quinn sat on either side of him and did their best to comfort their friend. “I can’t talk to her like I’m going to lose her. But if we do, and I don’t, then…”

“It’s alright, bud,” Quinn said, putting his arm around him. “She knows. She always knows.”

Quinn was interrupted by his phone ringing, so he stepped away and let Jack continue to help Alex. He was better at playing Sissy anyways.

“Matthew?” Quinn answered, confused. “Did I forget to update you?

“I’m outside the hospital,” Matthew said, not really answering his question. “I couldn’t stand it anymore. I kept hoping that she’d facetime two days ago, even though I knew she wouldn’t. I already talked to my coach. I wasn’t playing well with her on my mind. I need to be here.”

Quinn understood. He more than understood. He understood more than Matthew did.

“It just… it wasn’t a call I was expecting to ever get. And I really didn’t want something worse being told to me over the phone,” Matthew elaborated. “Can you come get me?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a couple minutes,” Quinn said before he hung up.

Quinn told Jack that he was going to get Matthew so that he could subtly let Trevor and Cole know. He really hoped that him being here won’t take away anyone’s ability to be vulnerable, but Matthew was just as important to her as almost anyone else, despite him not being in the “group,” for lack of a better term.

When Quinn returned with Matthew, Cole and Trevor were out in the hallway.

“We thought you might want a moment alone with her,” Jack told him.

“Just don’t confess your love to her. She might leave me for you,” Trevor joked. He was proud of himself for getting a small smile out of the clearly distressed man.

“I’ll hold back, just for you,” Matthew countered before entering the room.

Matthew’s breath hitched when he saw Y/N. Not so much as a picture was sent to him. Quinn told him that she looked worse with a tube down her throat, so he was glad that she was just left with a nasal canal now. He sat down next to her, but he didn’t hold her hand. It didn’t feel right to him. It felt like it would solidify the idea of her dying.

“Hey, little mouse,” he sighed, tearing up. “It’s uh… your rat. Or I guess sometimes you call me Ratty, or Matty, or Matty Rat, Matty Ratty, anyways– whatever you’re in the mood for calling me, it’s me. Fuck, this is hard.”

He was crying silent tears now. Y/N really was in a coma. He knew it before, but seeing her makes it a hundred times worse. He’d known her for five years. He played along to her silly little school girl crush. He bought her flowers for her sixteenth birthday because she asked him to come to her party! He watched her go through her teenage years, hell– she still is one, and now he’s praying that she’ll make it through the night. He’s praying that she’ll wake up.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I was trying to still be a leader for my team, but even the coaches knew I wasn’t playing like my usual self and let me come here. I can’t even imagine the pain everyone else out in the hall for you is in. Especially Quinn and Trevor.

“You don’t deserve this. I’m sure if you can hear, you’ve heard just about everyone say it, but it’s true. I don’t think anyone else would drop everything and fly to Calgary just because I’m playing against one of your friends, and I know you do that for everyone else, too. You’re a light, little mouse. For everyone. It’s getting too dark without you, so you need to wake up, okay? You’d do anything for the people you care about and that’s what we all need. You.”

Matthew finally caved and took a hold of Y/N’s hand. His tears were dropping more fiercely now, and her touch helped a little. He smiled when she squeezed his hand. Quinn told him that she might do that and it’s all subconscious, but Matthew couldn’t help but hope it was because she heard him.

– – –

The parents went to acquire lunch for everyone, and while they were out, the boys all went into the hospital room. Cole, Alex, and Jamie didn’t really know Matthew, so they were happy for the distraction of younger teenage Sissy stories from before they met her. Jamie especially, because he didn’t meet her until a few months ago. And yet, they already loved each other. That’s how special Y/N is.

“Wait, so she actually fell over the couch trying to talk to you?” Cole laughed. “How have I not heard this?”

“Because Mr. Boyfriend here doesn’t like discussing the little mouse crush era,” Matthew laughed.

“That sucks, Z, because I need to know everything,” Alex said.

“You know some of it,” Trevor mumbled. “Even when she moved to Michigan and met all of us, she still fawned over him at first.”

“Wait, you’re the Matty she couldn’t stop talking about?!” Cole shouted. “This makes so much sense!”

“She practically begged him to come to her sixteenth birthday party,” Quinn told the group.

“She tripped when he came through the door,” Jack snicked.

“You went?” Jamie asked. “Weren’t you in the league by then?”

“I was playing in Calgary,” Matthew explained. “It wasn’t too long of a plane ride and the date worked out, so I couldn’t bear to say no to her.”

“He bought her flowers and I got nothing,” Jack added, jokingly sounding bitter.

“I could go buy you something from the vending machine down the hall; would that help? Clearly, you’re still upset over your lack of a sixteenth birthday present,” Matthew teased him.

“It would,” Jack said. Matthew laughed and pulled out his wallet to give Jack his card. “Thanks, Matty!”

Silence lingered for a bit when Jack left. It started with Trevor. He stopped smiling and brought his girlfriend’s hand to his lips and lightly kissed each knuckle. Everyone saw it and just couldn’t find a reason to laugh anymore.

“She squeezed my hand,” Matthew said. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but there’s hope, right? It was after I finished speaking. So who knows? Maybe she’s getting closer.”

Trevor sent him a small smile and nodded his head, which was the best he could offer.

“I hope she can hear us,” Trevor said. “I hope she knows how loved she is.”

“She knows,” Alex said, mirroring Jack’s words to him. “She always knows.”

What Trevor didn’t tell the group is that Y/N squeezed his hand after Alex finished talking. Maybe Matthew was right, maybe she is closer to waking up.

– – –

After everyone left, Trevor was too drained to stay up. Luckily, the nurses were kind enough to keep the recliner in the corner of the room for him, so he laid it back and tried to get settled to get some sleep. He stayed on his phone scrolling aimlessly for a while before eventually passing out.

Sleep wasn’t kind to Trevor. He was plagued by endless nightmares, none of them allowing the sweet release of waking up. Over and over again he saw and heard Y/N dying. One mirrored the actual event of her flatlining, in another she woke up and died in his arms, and another she didn’t even make it out of the car. After a second showing of the actual event he witnessed the night before, he finally shot himself awake. He was panting, and he was sure that a scream escaped his lips. He wildly shook his head to try and find Y/N, and the sound of her heart beating steady brought him some ease.

He walked over to her and sat down to grab her hand, “Just keep that heart beating for me, okay, sweet girl? That’s all you gotta do.”

Trevor smiled to himself when she squeezed his hand again, but he tried to not get his hopes up. It didn’t mean anything. It was mere coincidence.

What did mean something was the soft groans that escaped her lips.

“Y/N?” he asked urgently, standing up. Nothing. “Sissy?”

His hand was squeezed again and he heard muffled sounds coming from her. He swore he heard her say “don’t call me that.”

“If you’re awake, I need you to open those pretty little eyes for me, sweet girl,” Trevor said softly as he stroked her hair. “I know it hurts, but I need to see them.”

She groaned heavily, but began to flutter her eyes open, “you’re bossy.”

Trevor collapsed into his chair and heaved the biggest sigh of relief. He took her hand in both of his and held it up to his lips, pressing a firm and lingering kiss on them and allowed the tears to fall.

“You’re awake! Oh my god, you’re awake!” Trevor said through tears.

— — —

Your mind was muddied, but you knew the sound of your boyfriend crying well enough to know that that is what you were hearing.

“Why wouldn’t I be awake?” you slurred. Your vision was less cloudy now and you could see the situation you were in.

Hospital bed. Leg suspended in a sling. Shoulder wrapped and on a pillow-like thing. Feeling extremely groggy. In pain. Trevor’s crying.

Trevor’s crying.

Trevor’s crying.

You brought your hand up to Trevor’s face and cupped his cheek, wiping a tear away with your thumb, “Why are you crying, my love?“

“You- you… you,” he was starting to get worked up.

“Shhhh,” you cooed. “It’s okay. I’m okay. What happened?”

“I saw you die! Your heart stopped beating and the world ended and I couldn’t do anything and I keep hearing the flat line and–”

“Okay, okay, it’s okay,” you said. “Come here.”

“You’re hurt, Y/N/N. Bad. I don’t need to be in this bed with you,” Trevor said.

“Is anything on my upper body besides my shoulder injured ?”

“No, but–”

“So come here.”

Trevor slowly crawled into the small space between you and the bed rail.

“Lay down on my chest,” you whispered to him.

He carefully laid down on your chest, being mindful of your IV, and wrapped his arms around you.

You took deep breaths as you rubbed his back. Yeah, you were the one in the hospital, but your boyfriend just told you he saw you die and you weren’t about to let him suffer.

“See? It’s beating now,” you said low and you stroked his hair with your good arm.

“It’s beating now,” Trevor sighed in relief.

“It’s beating now,” you reaffirmed.

“I need to tell a doctor that you’re awake,” Trevor said.

“We can tell them tomorrow,” you said back. “I just want to lay with you before the real pain sets in. We can talk about whatever happened tomorrow.”

You didn’t know how long you’ve been in the hospital, but you did know that Trevor was incredibly tense and terrified. You were worried out of your mind about him. It didn’t matter how much pain medication was surely in you, even your clouded mind could tell your boyfriend wasn’t okay. You rubbed his back up and down until his tears ceased and you felt him relax against you.

“I thought our forever was going to get cut short,” he said sleepily.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you said.

“I love you, forever.”

“I love you, always.”

— — —

You woke up early the next morning to a nurse going near Trevor to probably tell him off.

“Don’t touch him,” you scolded her.

“You’re awake!” the nurse jumped. She wasn’t expecting her coma patient to be awake. “Unfortunately, this does mean we’ll need to run some tests, so he will need to get up.”

“Can you give us an hour?” you pleaded with her. She gave you a playfully scolding look, but agreed. She gave you another dose of pain medication when you said you were in some pain, making sure to emphasize that Trevor was not that source, and left. Trevor slept through it all.

You found yourself humming and slipping your hand up Trevor’s shirt to softly scratch his back. You had an hour before chaos began and you were going to cherish every second of it.

“I love it when you sing,” you heard him mumble into your chest.

“Good morning to you, too, handsome,” you laughed lightly. “Thank you.”

You felt Trevor nod his head and cuddle up closer to you, placing his head back over your heart. You had a feeling he might need to do that a lot.

“My love, can you check what time it is? The nurse gave us an hour,” you said sleepily.

Trevor groaned but he carefully got off of you to check his phone. His sleepy eyes were soon filled with panic, “Oh shit! Shit!”

Alarmed, you tried to sit up, but you felt a jolt of pain and cried out. Trevor rushed over and eased you back down.

“Are you okay?! Do you want me to get a nurse? I should–”

“Z! Why did you say oh shit?” you cut him off.

“I didn’t immediately tell Quinn that you woke up, and when he finds out that I didn’t–”

“Quinn’s here?” you asked.

Trevor sat down on the edge of your bed and grabbed your hand, “Everyone’s here, sweet girl. They all flew in. Half the league’s been asking for updates. You’re famous, kid.”

You didn’t know how to take that. You were in pain, sure. Apparently you died which was already too much to think about. And now virtually everyone you know is asking about you? It wasn’t fun to think about. It wasn’t fun to think about how many people have worried over you. Trevor was a mess, and you couldn’t even begin to think about everyone else.

You’re the go to person. You vow to make every single person you hold dear, every single person you love, feel safe and loved. You’re the person people go to for support. You have people to go to, but who do you go to when everyone else is struggling with you?

Eventually your hour alone with Trevor was over, at apparently five am, and he had to be kicked out for testing. He freaked out a tad— okay a lot— but he settled for waiting outside in the hall with the door open and you periodically telling him that you were still there. That didn’t last long. A nurse accidentally caused your heart monitor to fall off your finger, causing the flat line to sound again, which caused Trevor to scream. You tried to call out to him, but your voice was too weak and his voice was too strong.

“Help him!” you shouted at a nurse.

You hated what happened next. Trevor’s cries and screams died down, and you were told that they put him in a room after being lightly sedated to calm him down. They explained to you that it happened two nights ago, as well.

“If he stayed in that recliner last time, he needs to be brought in here again. Or he’ll wake up and freak out again,” you told the nurse. “Trust me on that.”

She ended up listening to you, since he did spiral himself into a panic attack just because you were out of his sight. You didn’t know he actually had one, you thought it was just screams. You wished you were right.

You had just enough energy left in you to wait for Trevor to be placed in the recliner. He was out of it, he barely classified as a human at this point. You watched as he got settled and the nurses left, and when his eyes closed, so did yours.

You didn’t know how long you were asleep, but Trevor had drug his IV to your bedside and parked himself in the chair next to you.

“Are you okay?” you asked groggily.

“What? I should be asking you that” Trevor said, dodging your question.

“Z,” you said seriously.

Trevor just looked at you. He looked so guilty. He looked so broken.

“Jack told me that the second you open your eyes, I need to be strong for you if none of them are here. None of them are here yet today and instead of being strong, have an IV with sedatives to not have a panic attack,” Trevor said quietly. “Not even pills, Y/N! An IV bag!”

“Okay, okay,” you got out quickly. “Trev, what you saw is scarring. You never should have seen that, and I’m so sorry that you did. We’re gonna be a bit of a mess for a while it seems, but we’ll be a mess together. We can take turns being the strong one.”

“I need to take care of you,” Trevor said. “You’re hurt, Y/N/N. Bad. You’re going to need help doing everyday things. I can’t be a mess when you need me.”

“Yes you can, Z,” you told him, rubbing his hand with your thumb. “I don’t want anyone holding in anything for me, because that’ll make the break so much harder. Just because I’m going to need help physically doesn’t mean we can’t help each other mentally.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think all of us are going to need help mentally,” Trevor admitted.

You gave him a sad smile and squeezed his hand, “Good thing I’m awake then, huh?”

Trevor smiled back, but you could tell he really didn’t mean it.

“Jack was playing your part, don’t worry. He held us together for a while.”

“It’s a twin thing,” you joked.

“That’s what Jack said,” Trevor laughed lightly, making you actually smile.

You could tell Trevor was still uneasy, so you had him lay down with you again, but this time he got next to you. You couldn’t lean against him, because moving was agonizing, but the touching of shoulders and your unbroken leg between his was enough for you. He caught you up on everything. He didn’t like it, but you needed it. You needed to know what happened to your friends and family while you were out. All of it absolutely broke your heart, but you were ready to heal with everyone. Physically and mentally. Together.

He told you that almost everyone had a moment alone with you. You wished it was like the movies because you wish you could’ve heard them.

“Do you remember what you said?” you asked Trevor.

“You want to know what I said?”

“I want to know what everyone said. It might help us all get through this.”

Trevor checked his phone, “Visiting hours start in an hour. Why don’t we just lay here together until they come and at some point you can hold one on one therapy sessions?”

It was a reasonable request. You were exhausted, and Trevor had already been through so much in the last three hours. Trevor put a movie on his phone, The Hunger Games, and you laid your head on his shoulder and drifted off to sleep again.

———

reblogs appreciated! it helps spread fics <;3

[rayshippouuchiha]

TBH the lack of Real Respect Tsuna and Skull both get makes me wanna see ‘em just… Vanish. They aren’t hurt, or in trouble, but they both end up tired as hell and want like. One (1) year to themselves, without being called shit like useless or lackey or weak. So they fuck off and onto some whimsical journey across the world, probably running into the fair folk or some shit (because Tsuna’s Super Anxiety would make him a damn hard target for them, and I feel like they’d just Vibe with Skull. Immortal and all that).

Meanwhile, everyone back in Namimori is losing. their. shit. Trying to find their two dumbasses, flipping every damn stone over because they’ve Clearly been kidnapped. No One notices the note Tsuna and Skull left, because Skull still isn’t the best at writing and Tsuna’s Super Anxiety kicked in and said that if he wrote it he’d never get his goddamn vacation.

To clarify, this is meant to be (mostly) humorous, but I’m curious to see where you’d go with an idea like this. I just want Skull and Tsuna to travel the world together TBH. Feel like they’d make good brothers.

Oh oh yes. Obviously there'll be humor but, well, it's me and we all know how these things eat my brain and I have to give them some bite so:

Skull isn't really one of Arcobaleno that Tsuna generally spends much time with.

When it comes to the Strongest, the ones Tsuna's found himself spending the most time with has always been Reborn and, surprisingly enough, Fon.

Reborn is around more often than not, content to keep torturing Tsuna even if his official title has shifted from Demon Tutor to Demon Tutor/Advisor.

And Fon's tendency to stop by frequently can be chalked up to I-pin and the fact that, for some reason, the Storm seems to be under the impression that hanging around Tsuna will, somehow, help him grow closer to Hibari.

Which is something that doesn't really make much sense to Tsuna. Even after years of being dragged into and out of various ridiculous shenanigans together, and despite recent Hibari's tendency to commandeer Tsuna's bed or floor or balcony at random times to nap, Tsuna's still not convinced that Hibari actually remembers he exists whenever they're not in the same room together.

And sometimes not even then.

A part of Tsuna also suspects that the "Small Animal" title he carries now might just be Hibari's way of getting around the fact that he doesn't remember Tsuna's actual name anymore.

It is, much like most everything else involving Hibari and Tsuna's thoughts about him, confusing and difficult for Tsuna to make up his mind about.

So, besides Reborn's continued sadism and Fon regularly attempting to use Tsuna as some kind of emotional Switzerland and/or human sacrifice to Hibari, Tsuna tends to see the other Arcobaleno on a bit of a floating schedule.

Viper, as Reborn has taken to insisting everyone outside of the Varia call the Mist, tends to blip in and out every once in a while. Often bringing news from Xanxus and leaving with anything strawberry flavored in Tsuna's house and whatever money he might have in his wallet at the moment.

Lal Mirch and Colonello tend to arrive and depart together, attached at the hip now no matter how much they bicker.

Verde's version of checking in seems to come in the form of sending whatever new robot or nightmare construct he's thought of to attack Tsuna and "gather data".

But Skull?

Tsuna rarely sees Skull.

The Cloud floats in and out of town only rarely and never stays longer than absolutely necessary. Often times he's gone within the hour.

Which is, in Tsuna's opinion, actually kind of a shame.

Because the thing is, Tsuna actually likes Skull.

Oh, he hadn't a few years ago when they'd first come across each other.

No back then Tsuna had hated each new and increasingly ridiculous trap/trick/shenanigan and situation Reborn had managed to push him into.

Skull had just been another irritation on a rapidly increasing list of things Tsuna hadn't wanted to deal with.

But ,,,

Well, it hadn't taken Tsuna long to realize that Skull and he were much more alike than he'd ever thought possible back at the beginning.

And now, with a few years of Reborn and this mafia headache under his belt?

Now Skull's someone that Tsuna wouldn't actually mind seeing more of.

Even though he knows it's not likely to happen.

Mainly because Tsuna's not actually a complete idiot no matter what some people still seem to think.

Tsuna's seen enough interactions between Reborn and Skull to have a pretty good idea about where some of the chips in that relationship fall.

Plus Hyper Intuition is helpful for more than just life-or-death battles these days even if Tsuna's not made that fact as openly obvious as he might once have.

It's yet another area in which Tsuna's found he can sympathize with Skull.

Because Tsuna also has a hyper-violent sadist he half wishes he could care less about sometimes.

Which is why Tsuna's so surprised to see a familiar pair of leather-clad legs dangling over the edge of the roof when he steps out onto his balcony, desperate to escape the screaming and general chaos that has once again taken over his house.

Tsuna goes to call out only for that familiar flare of warning heat to snap his mouth closed.

Instead Tsuna does something that he wouldn't have been able to a few short years ago.

He reaches up, grabs the edge of his roof in one hand, and pulls himself up onto the tiles above him.

When he's kneeling on the roof a few seconds later Tsuna finds himself glad that he didn't make too much noise, glad that he didn't draw any attention to Skull.

Because Skull's currently laid out on Tsuna's roof, legs dangling over the side but arms pillowed behind his head, helmet settled at his hip and eyes trained on the night sky and face almost eerily blank.

It is, Tsuna can't help but think, the quietest he's ever seen Skull.

It's honestly a little unsettling.

But, worst of all somehow in Tsuna's opinion, is the fact that Skull looks ,,, tired.

He doesn't even bother to greet Tsuna beyond flicking those vibrant violet eyes in his direction before going back to his star gazing.

To Tsuna, Skull has never looked more like everything he was taught a Cloud is supposed to be than in this moment.

Cold.

Illusive.

Bound to drift away.

The thought sends a shiver of premonition down Tsuna's spine.

Tsuna finds himself laying down on the roof beside him, legs dangling over the edge and arms folded behind his head.

Their elbows are just barely brushing.

And all the while a flickering whisper in the back of Tsuna's mind sings.

"I'm tired," Tsuna finds himself saying some silent drawn-out minutes later.

A beat of silence.

"Yeah," Skull sighs, voice lower and smoother than Tsuna has ever heard it before, "me too."

"I," Tsuna pauses, swallows, feels his Intuition surge and sharpen, "I love my friends and I know they care too but sometimes I just ,,,"

Tsuna trails off because he knows that Skull understands without him ever having to finish.

"Wish you could go to sleep and wake up on the opposite end of the world so that maybe you could get some rest and peace before they inevitably find you again?" Skull offers.

"Yes," The answer practically bursts out of Tsuna.

Another beat of silence.

"I've got an airship," Skull announces.

Tsuna hears it for the offer it is.

"They'd find us," Tsuna points out softly, twisting just a bit so he's looking Skull in the face. "They'd hunt us down and drag us both back."

The smirk Skull sends him in return is far darker and slyer than any expression Tsuna's ever seen on his face before.

"Oh, malysh nebo," Skull practically purrs, "they could certainly try."

[morurui]

CHAOS THEORY SPOILER REVIEW

Cause I just finished it and I have thoughts!

Sooooo I honestly have mixed feelings about Chaos Theory if I’m going to be honest I feel like there are some things that worked in my opinion and some things that didn’t really work for me so I’ll be separating this review into three parts: Things I liked, Things I wasn’t a fan of, and General thoughts.

Things I liked:

-The animation was absolutely gorgeous, it was such a step up from Camp Cretaceous that it’s weird to think that they’re apart of the same series. The team behind it did an absolutely amazing job!

-The last two episodes. Oh my god were those last two episodes so good, they had me at the edge of my seat as well as episode 10 finally giving us interactions between the entirety of the nublar 5

-YASAMMY. I think yasammy was done so well this season. Their fight was so real, nobody was totally in the wrong, but they both weren’t communicating their feelings to each other well and they resolved it in the end. It was just perfect

-Yasmina Fadoula. She was written so well I loved how they didn’t just completely forget she has PTSD and anxiety and included that in her character arc for this season. I also loved how they used her to address how bad it is to infantilize those with mental disorders. (Yaz and I are anxiety twins 🧘‍♀️)

-Mateo. The GOAT. I am the number one Mateo fan, dont ever forget it. I love that man and I will stand by him, I was stressing for his life during episode 10.

-Microbang villain girl was such a menacing villain at the end and I honestly love her. It’s clear that while she is using the atrociraptors for evil deeds she does clearly care for them. I desperately need to know more about her…

-Kenji and Brooklynn’s new voice actors do such a good job with the characters and while I’ll miss Jenna and Ryan, their new voices were casted very well!

Things I wasn’t a big fan of:

-Now to address the elephant in the room…Darius being in love with Brooklynn. (I’m going to try to look at this through an objective pov, but since I don’t ship dinostar obviously there’ll be a slight bias)(nothing wrong if you do ship Dinostar I’m happy for you, but these are just my feelings) Im not a big fan of this. To me I’ve never really read Darius and Brooklynn as being romantic together and their friendship is something I truly cherished about JWCC. I do see why they probably decided to make the decision to have Darius be in love with Brooklynn, but to me it’s kind of upsetting in a way to have Darius’s extreme grief response not be just because they were best friends. It feels like the writers were saying “Well, he’s not experiencing this grief so hard because she was his best friend, but it’s actually because he loves her!”. We’ve seen loss be something Darius takes extremely hard (His dad’s death and Ben’s death) and so I don’t really see why they made it so he was in love with her to justify his response when it’s in character without it. Idk man…

-Brooklynn being alive….HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT. THIS IS NOT BECAUSE I HATE BROOKLYNN SHES ACTUALLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS. But idk these fake out deaths are starting getting to wear me down. Even Bumpy had a fake out death 😭. I get why they kept her alive being as she is a beloved character, but I just think it would’ve been better for her to be a character that somewhat haunts the narrative. It adds more onto the mystery, not only that but it allows the nublar five to explore “Hey our friend was hiding things from us and we’ll never truly get answers, but we’re going to find out what lead to her death and put a stop to it”. Which was what the nublar five are on a path to, until Brooklynn inevitably shows back up and explains everything. Also why did they give her the 2017 Katy Perry haircut…

-Kenji and Darius’s dynamic. I loved how they used their dynamic at the beginning of the show with Kenji blaming Darius for Brooklynn’s death, but beyond that moment their dynamic felt off to me. It was not helped by the whole Darius being in love with Brooklynn thing, but it just felt like they toned down their brotherly bond in this show (ironic since this is the first time we see them call themselves brothers)

General thoughts

-Jesus Christ was Kenji this shows punching bag 😭. He literally does not get a break, it just keeps on coming, breaking up with his girlfriend because she’s not invested in their relationship anymore, living in a trailer with a failing rock climbing business, his girlfriend kept secrets from him all while working with his estranged dad behind his back, his dad trying to use him again and then dying saving him, AND his brother was in love with his ex girlfriend. All in the span of ten episodes. If I was him I would have a mental breakdown every single day.

-Do yall think Ben actually has a girlfriend? I’m like at a 70/40 split, because he only talks about her two times and the first time he brings her up she totally sounds fake. “She’s from…Europe” Why did you have to think so much Benjamin? Also he fully just said she’s from the continent of Europe rather than a specific country in Europe. Also also it’s implied he hasn’t had a phone on him for a while so how does a long distance relationship work if he doesn’t have any means to contact her??? And he doesn’t even have a picture of her in his van. That man is hiding something I need to know…

-Ben and Darius had like 30-40 minutes of screen time shared between them, which is weird because like most of the show was marketed with them being the main protags and they barely interact beyond episode 4. (Their dynamic was too strong for people to handle “do you talk to your mother with that mouth” broke the world)

-Bumpy having a baby is something I predicted and I’m happy I was right!

Anyway that’s really it, sorry this was pretty long and excuse any typos or grammatical errors, but these were just some of my thoughts!

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

Even More DBD as Incorrect Quotes from a Random Generator

Charles: So like, how far do you think the distance is from that window to the ground? Edwin: Enough.

Crystal: I never said I was gonna get back together with them. But I was thinking, they're in town, would it be the worst thing in the world if I gave them a call? Jenny: No. No, Crystal, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It would be the fourth worst thing. Number one: a super volcano. Number two: an asteroid hits the Earth. Number three: All the Evel Knievel movies are lost. Number four: Person F calls Person C. Number five: Niko gets eaten by a shark. Niko: I’m Niko, and I approve the order of that list.

Charles: Some people are like slinkies. Edwin: What? Charles: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. Edwin: Edwin: Please don't push the Cat King down the stairs. Charles, pushing the Cat King down the stairs: Too late.

Crystal: If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're impressed. Edwin: But you do know better.

Edwin: Ew. What kind of tea is this? Charles: I boiled gatorade.

Niko: Are you mad? Jenny: No. Niko: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

Charles: What the fuck is with english teachers and being like; "write a story about a deep and personal memory that impacted your life". Ma'am, if I do that you're going to send me to the counselor's office.

Crystal and Charles: Isn't it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

Charles: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait. Edwin: You and me. Charles: *tearing up* Ok.

Crystal: Hey, can I get a sip of that water? Esther: It’s not water. Crystal: Vodka! I like your sty- Esther: It’s vinegar. Crystal: …What? Esther: It's vinegar, PUSSY.

Charles: Underestimate me. That'll be fun.

Edwin: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Crystal: Bees? Edwin: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! Crystal: Wait- *Charles approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly*

Jenny: What’s something you guys are better than Edwin at? Crystal: Mario Kart. Charles: Yeah, video games. Niko: Emotional vulnerability.

Charles: So apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually "Severe psychological distress."

Charles: You're a lying piece of shit! Crystal: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD! Edwin: I'm leaving and I'm taking Niko with me! Jenny, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.

Charles: If you were to have sex with any insect scaled up to human size, what would it be? Jenny: What the hell is wrong with you?

Charles, about Edwin: I would never say that my partner is a bitch and I don’t don’t like them. That’s not true… My partner is a bitch and I like them so much!

Esther: *writing a letter* Esther: Dear Santa, I'm writing to let you know I've been naughty... And it was worth it you fat, judgemental bastard.

Charles: How do those little boys on XBOX parties always know what slur to call you? Crystal: They're empaths.

Charles: Mama. Just killed a man. Charles: Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead. Charles: MAMAAAAAAAA OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Edwin: What?! Let me hide the body, where is it? Is there anyone around that can hear us? Edwin: ...Are those song lyrics? Charles: Those are song lyrics.

Crystal: What’s the straightest thing you’ve ever done? Edwin: *sighs* Edwin: I killed a man.

Edwin: Unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, I cannot just 'walk up and join a circle of people talking', but it does sound lovely, thank you.

Edwin: What's this? Charles, hugging Edwin: Affection! Edwin: Disgusting. Edwin: ...Do it again.

Edwin: If you've ever had a crush on me, god bless your poor, misguided heart.

Crystal: I'm gonna need a human skull but you can't ask why. Edwin: Only if you also don't ask why. Edwin: *pulls four pristine human skulls out of their bag* Crystal: ... Crystal, grabbing a skull: This one will do.

Niko: Source? Crystal: Divine intuition.

Crystal: Made you all playlists! Crystal: Jenny, yours has only heavy metal, and is dark like your soul. Crystal: Edwin, yours has sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression. Crystal: And Niko has the ABBA Gold album.

Charles, to Niko: You know, the Cat King can be really aggressive, so it's important to take all the necessary precautions when approaching. Charles: *blows airhorn at the Cat King* GET FUCKED!

Niko: Croissants: dropped Charles: Road: works ahead Crystal: BBQ sauce: on my titties Monty: Shavacado: fre Jenny: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead Edwin: Edwin: ...I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

[summerslashers]

Meeting You: Thomas Hewitt x Reader

Summary: After moving to a small town in Texas, you bump into a certain Tommy Hewitt… literally.

Warnings: implied general anxiety/none

Authors Note: I don’t consider myself much of a writer but I do have fun with it so please be kind. This took forever but I’m somewhat happy with how it turned out. I’m probably going to write a different “meeting Tommy” fic though where it’s just the two of you.

It wasn’t a terribly long walk from your new home, the small shop just down the dusty dirt road and past the slaughterhouse. It was all very new to you, living in a small town all alone, but you tried to remain optimistic.

You took a deep breath as you approached the little shop, shaking your hands at your sides to rid yourself of the anxiety that stirred within you.

“Okay,” you whispered before stepping inside.

You hardly had the chance to hear the doorbells ring before you bumped into a very tall, very broad man, causing a wooden crate to go crashing to the ground, its contents falling out and scattering across the floor.

“I’m so sorry- I- I didn’t mean to-“ You didn’t even get the chance to fully look at the man you ran into, immediately kneeling to the ground and apologizing profusely. He set another wooden crate onto the floor with a loud thud, kneeling down as well to clean up the mess you made.

You leaned over to pick something up, both of your hands reaching for the same item. The two of you hesitated, retracting your hands just slightly before looking up at one another. You were immediately met with gentle blue eyes and a half-masked face mere inches from your own.

“I’m sorry-” you looked down, your cheeks warm and heart pounding hard in your chest. You picked up the stray item and offered it to the man so that he could put it in the crate that was now balanced atop another just like it. He took the small item from you, his calloused fingertips brushing gently against your fingers. You found yourself blushing even harder.

Meanwhile, Luda Mae sat behind the counter, a small smirk on her face at the interaction before her. She watched you help clean everything up with shaky hands, apologizing the entire time.

Once everything was back in the crate where it belonged, the two of you stood up. It was then that you realized just how large the man actually was. You hadn’t had the chance to notice with everything that had happened, far too worried about your silly mistake. You looked up at him.

“I’m really sorry-“ you fidgeted anxiously with your hands and offered a gentle smile. “I guess I didn’t make a very good first impression… I’m new here.”

Luda May spoke up from behind the counter with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that, hon. No harm done.” Usually she didn’t care much for strangers, but after seeing how kind you were to her boy, she couldn’t help but take an immediate liking to you. “It’s not often we get new folks around here. You can call me Luda Mae and that’s my boy, Tommy. He doesn’t talk much but he’s a real nice boy.”

You smiled up at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Tommy… and I’m sorry again about earlier. My name is y/n.”

You saw the corners of his lips upturn in the smallest smile. He couldn’t help it- you were just too cute. He had never met someone so kind to him. He had grown painfully used to people calling him cruel names or giving him ugly looks, but not you. You were sweet and caring.

“I live just down the street in the small ranch.” You pointed your finger in the general direction.

“Now that’s real close to our home, isn’t it, Tommy?” Luda Mae chimed in.

“You live in that really big house?” You asked Tommy, looking up into his pretty blue eyes.

He nodded and you smiled, a warm blush returning to your cheeks.

“Guess that makes us neighbors.”

Once again, you noticed the corners of Tommy’s lips upturn, and you blushed even harder. He was handsome- really handsome. His eyes were captivating and the little smiles he allowed you to see made your heart skip a beat. Not to mention he was incredibly tall, broad, and very strong.

“Did you walk here all by yourself?” Luda Mae questioned.

“Yes ma’am. I don’t own a car at the moment so I plan on walking where I need to go. I actually came here to ask about a job- if you’re hiring?”

“I could use the extra help,” she smiled. “You can start tomorrow, but I can’t have you walkin’ down here all on your own. Too many dangerous folk ‘round these parts. Lot of bikers comin’ through here causin’ problems.”

You nodded, not exactly sure what she wanted you to do. “I live alone, ma’am. I-I don’t-”

“Tommy would be more than happy to walk with you ‘n make sure you’re safe.” Luda Mae gave Tommy a nod.

You looked over at the man, worry written on your face. “I can’t ask you to do that-”

“Nonsense.” She cut you off. “You don’t mind, do you, Thomas?”

He looked into your eyes and shook his head. You smiled at his kindness.

“Besides, Tommy here works real close, just down at the slaughterhouse every mornin’. It’d be no trouble for him to bring you here n’ walk ya home.”

“Are you sure?” You fidgeted with your hands anxiously.

Tommy nodded, sincerity in his expression and body language. No one had ever cared about him and what he wanted like this, it gave him a warm feeling in his chest. He wanted to do this. He wanted to walk with you. Be by your side. Keep you safe.

“Thank you, Tommy. I really appreciate it.” You smiled.

Thomas was sure that he had never smiled so much in his entire life. That he had never felt this happy to be around someone before. From the moment you bumped into him, you were like a ray of sunshine that shined down on his dark and dreary life.

“I should probably get home soon,” you smiled apologetically. “I still have a lot of unpacking to do, but I promise I’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning.”

Luda Mae nodded, noticing that Tommy was still looking at you with a certain fondness in his eyes. “How’s about you join us for dinner tonight? Six o’clock.”

“I would love to.” Your smile widened. You had been so worried about meeting people, nervous about whether or not they would like you or if they would be kind. You couldn’t have asked for a better outcome. “Would you like me to show up early to help with anything?”

“Now aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” Luda Mae spoke fondly. “I can always use an extra hand in the kitchen.”

“Okay! I’ll be there,” you said.

“You get her home safe now, Thomas.” Luda Mae addressed him firmly before looking back at you. “It’s been so nice meeting you, sweetheart.”

“You too,” you smiled contently. “Thank you so much for everything.”

“Alright now. I’ll see you this evening.”

You looked up at Tommy as if to silently ask if he was ready to go.

He gave you a curt nod, and with that, the two of you headed towards the exit side by side, excited for the walk ahead of you.

[starnightlover]

I have listened to a disney princess sub playlist that I made, and the RESULTS OMGG

I’ve become a lot kinder and compassionate. I used to be quite bitter and so angry at some people for the slightest things, and even though I never did anything to them, it drove me crazy keeping it inside. But now all that is gone and I’d rather be kind to people than hurt them.

I find myself singing disney songs a lot. Once Upon a Dream in particular actually, and I keep imagining dancing with my true love, whoever that is lolll. I just keep having this urge to sing and dance like a princess 😭

I’ve become a lot more graceful and posture has gotten better. and I actually walk like a real princess!!

I’m more physically dramatic iykwim. You know when a lot of disney princesses get upset they fall to the ground and cry or dramatically start sobbing into their arms, i’ve started doing that whenever i’m sad 😂 I’m also just more dramatic in general, like I sound like a disney princess. Whenever i get happy, I go “oh my!” with such a soft and surprised voice hahahaa 🤣

I think my singing has gotten better too. I was AWFUL at singing, but I actually seem to be getting better, and i’m becoming less shy about singing in front of others

In general, I’ve just become more confident and less anxious about everything. It feels so freeing honestly because I used to have crippling anxiety and was stressed constantly. Now it feels as if I’m floating most of the time, it’s so peaceful ☺️☺️

Anyway idk if you’ll post this, but i’d just thought it could motivate some people 💖

Awwwwwww stop- this is so cute!!!!!! I'm so happy for you!!!!!!

[galaxywrites]

ㅤㅤ ㅤ incorrect quotes from my freed revenants au!

ㅤㅤ ㅤsome may be nsfw! just a warning!! color-coded.

──────────────────────────────

Kabal: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything?

Kabal: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies.

Jade: Socks are Feetie Heaties.

Liu Kang: Defibrillators are Heartie Starties.

Stryker: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies.

Kitana: Stamps are Lickie Stickies.

Tomàš: I hate you guys so much.

-

Jade: You know, there’s something weird going on with your face?

Tomàš: What?

Jade: You’re smiling! I didn’t know you could do that

-

Tomàš: Be careful, I thrive on negative attention.

-

Tomàš: Well, has Jade been wrong before?

Kitana: How wide are we willing to open this up?

-

Stryker: Liu Kang, can I ask you a question?

Liu Kang: You just did.

Stryker: Okay, can I ask you two questions?

Liu Kang: You just did.

Stryker, frustrated: OKAY, CAN I ASK YOU FOUR QUESTIONS?!

Liu Kang: You just did.

Stryker: When?!

Liu Kang: Just now.

-

Kabal: I have a bad feeling about this...

Tomàš: What do you mean?

Kabal: Don't you ever get that little voice in your head that tells you if you're going to get into trouble?

Tomàš: No?

Liu Kang: That actually explains so much.

-

Kabal: I couldn't do this without you, Tomàš.

Tomàš: Sure you could. Not as stylishly, of course.

-

Tomàš: The path to inner peace begins with four words… not my fucking problem.

-

Kabal: Get in, loser, we’re committing vehicular manslaughter!

-

Liu Kang: Might I make a suggestion you possibly won’t like?

Tomàš: Do you make any other kind?

-

Kitana: What are you two arguing about this time?

Stryker: He's always using common phrases incorrectly!

Tomàš: Cry me a table, Kurtis.

-

Tomàš: We wouldn’t last two minutes without Nightwolf.

Tomàš:

Tomàš: Don't tell him I said that.

-

Tomàš: I love saying 'fuck me' because it can either be sexual or self-loathing and those are two things that describe me perfectly.

-

Tomàš: Fight me!

Kitana, standing behind him and holding her fans: *mouths* Do not.

-

Kabal: Yesterday, I overheard Nightwolf saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Tomàš replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

-

Stryker: *falls down the stairs*

Kitana: Are you okay?

Liu Kang: Stop falling down the stairs!

Tomàš: How’d the ground taste?

-

Kabal: Why cant trees give off something important like wifi??

Stryker: So fuck oxygen, I guess.

-

Tomàš: Are you a masochist or a sadist?

Kung Lao, deadpan: I’m a Taurus.

-

Kabal: An apple a day keeps the doctor away!

Tomàš: An apple a day can keep anyone away if you throw it hard enough.

-

*During a game of Hangman*

Tomàš: Nope, there’s no Q. You lose.

Stryker: Are you kidding me?! You can still add something!

Tomàš: I already added a belt, four earrings and an extra arm! YOU LOSE!

-

Jade: Can you pass the salt?

Tomàš: Can you pass away?

Jade: Too much salt.

-

Kung Lao: Am I in trouble?

Liu Kang: Take a guess.

Kung Lao: No?

Liu Kang: Take another guess.

-

Kabal, trying to comfort Tomàš: What's the problem? Anxiety? Low self-esteem? Obsessive thoughts of random arson? I've been there.

-

Stryker: Why would you think any of this was a good idea?!

Tomàš: Probably because I’m a trained assassin with a long history of violence.

Stryker: Oh...

Jade, from across the room: I don’t understand how you keep forgetting that.

-

Tomàš: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry?

Kabal: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition.

-

Nightwolf: You three, explain right now.

Tomàš: It was Kabal.

Jade: It was Kabal.

Liu Kang: It was Kabal.

Kabal:

Kabal: …fuck.

-

Tomàš: Wait a minute, how did this happen? We're smarter than this!

Enenra: Apparently, we're not!

-

Kung Lao: Truth or dare?

Tomàš: Truth.

Kung Lao: How many hours have you slept this week?

Tomàš:

Tomàš: Dare.

Kung Lao: Go to sleep.

Tomàš: I don't like this game.

-

Nightwolf: I'm going to ask you to be respectful.

Tomàš: I will politely decline.

-

Liu Kang: Did you buy eggs like I asked?

Tomàš: Even better!

Liu Kang: What the fuck did you-

Tomàš: *holding up a chicken* Her name is Fluffy.

-

Liu Kang: Hey, are you free?

Kung Lao: No, I’m expensive.

-

Stryker: Want to hear a hard riddle?

Kung Lao: Sure.

Stryker: A rooster laid an egg on a roof. Which way did it roll?

Kung Lao: ...down?

Stryker: N-

Tomàš: Who cares about which way it rolled, it would be scrambled eggs by then.

Stryker:

Stryker: No, it's that roosters don't lay eggs... Jesus Christ...

-

Stryker: Do you take constructive criticism?

Kabal: No, only cash or credit.

-

Jade: Just be yourself. Say something nice.

Tomàš: Which one? I can't do both.

-

Nightwolf: One time I went to hand Jade a bowl of soup. I wanted to say “Careful, it’s hot!”, and “Here’s your soup!”, so instead I blurted out “Careful it’s soup.”

-

Tomàš: You're right.

Jade: That's... That's an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

-

Stryker: Anyone else feel good when their brain releases a bunch of endorphins?

Jade: Can't relate.

Tomàš: Why would my brain release a bunch of dolphins?

-

Tomàš: Liu Kang! Kabal got that thing on the control panel working!

Liu Kang: Wow! That looks pretty impressive.

Tomàš: Yeah!

Liu Kang: Any idea what it does?

Tomàš: Not a clue.

-

Tomàš: Where is my fucking mask?

Kabal: Tomàš, guests are around, can you say it a little nicer?

Tomàš: May I ascertain the whereabouts of my FUCKING MASK?!

-

Liu Kang: I don’t think we can mansplain, manipulate, or malewife our way out of it this time.

Kitana: *cracks knuckles* Manslaughter it is!

-

Tomàš: I wouldn’t wish that upon my worse enemy!

Tomàš: Unless of course. . We’re talking about our enemy, Quan Chi. Fuck you Quan Chi, you know what you did!

-

Tomàš: Tired of just deserving better. Gonna start taking it by force.

-

Stryker: Wow, Kano really hates us.

Kabal: Yes, perhaps he's homophobic.

Stryker: But we’re not gay, Kabal.

Kabal:

Stryker:

Kabal: We’re not?

-

Tomàš: Is having a penis fun?

Kabal: It has its ups and downs.

Stryker: Sometimes it’s a little hard.

Kung Lao: It’s a pain in the ass.

Jade: Oh, Jesus, fuck, guys, come on.

-

Kitana: What does 'take out' mean?

Liu Kang: Food.

Stryker: Dating

Tomàš: Murder

Kabal: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

-

Nightwolf: Good responses for being stabbed with a knife?

Stryker: Rude.

Kabal: That’s fair.

Tomàš: Not again.

Jade: Are you going to want this back?

-

Nightwolf: What do you think Kabal will do for a distraction?

Stryker: He’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do.

*Building explodes and several car alarms go off*

Stryker: ... or he could do that.

-

Kitana, carefully running a brush through Tomàš' hair: Did no one teach you how to manage your hair properly?

Tomàš, shrugging: The Lin Kuei elders just said brush it with your fingers, it'll be fine.

Tomàš: When Cyrax joined, he used to do it. But I haven't seen him here in the Netherrealm, so I just assumed his soul didn't end up here.

Kitana: ... We need to teach you a proper hair routine.

Tomàš: Say what now?

-

Tomàš: Did you just call me a shrimp, you asshole?! I'm still growing, dammit!

Enenra: You stopped growing when you were fourteen!

-

Enenra: What’s sexting?

Tomàš: I'm not having this conversation with you.

-

Stryker: Are you okay?

Kabal, crying: Yeah, it was just the onions.

Stryker: *Picks up an onion* What the fuck did you say to Kabal?

-

Kitana: There are no friends when playing board games. I am here to win.

-

Kitana: I am going to need you to swear-

Kabal: Fuck.

Kitana:

Kitana: ...swear as in promise.

-

Stryker: The Ocean is a soup.

Tomàš:

Tomàš: Do elaborate.

Stryker: What are needed for something to be a soup?

Tomàš: Erm... Water, salt, some form of vegetation, and personally I prefer some meat in mine.

Stryker: *Tilts head*

Tomàš: The Ocean is a Soup.

Stryker: The Ocean is a Soup.

-

Nightwolf: I swear to god I'm the only one here with a braincell.

Stryker, Liu Kang, Kabal, and Kitana: ALL HAIL the keeper of the sacred braincell!

-

*Everyone is playing a board game together*

Kabal: I will put 'A' down to make 'A'.

Tomàš: I will add onto your 'A' to make 'AT'.

Kung Lao: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT'.

Kitana: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC'.

Kung Lao: *flips the board*

-

Kabal: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*

Stryker: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?

Kabal: I—

Kabal: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

-

Kitana: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one.

Tomàš: Break one of their bones instead, they have 206 of them.

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X GN-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Stories and Dolls

A/N – Okay, so I just quit my job and I’m freefalling right now. Time to channel my anxiety into fanfiction. Also, this chapter is darker so I’m raising the rating to M.

Warnings – MENTIONS OF RAPE, S/A, ABUSE, KIDNAPPING, AND TORTURE.

Rating – M

FEMALE VERSION HERE

MALE VERSION HERE

TAG-LIST: @x-uno @froggybich @bubbleboy132

Lucifer had to admit, he was getting used to you. He enjoyed making breakfast a show in the morning, entertaining you with his parlour tricks and general showmanship. You were like a child, easily amused by flashing lights or some sleight of hand.

And of a night, he also found your company less than objectionable, whether you were reading a book in the library with Spick and Span curled up at your feet, in front of a roaring fire (you had conjured them medallions with their names on them, so as to tell them apart), or those nights when you came back from visiting the hotel and regaled him with the tales of its inhabitants. Lucifer was starting to like Angel Dust, even if he didn’t believe the porn star actually had a chance at redemption. Nifty also seemed entertaining, Husk could be a source of wisdom and comfort in equal measure, and Alastair… Well, he was there too, taking up too much of your attention.

Yet, despite his newfound almost-friendship with you, he couldn’t help thinking about what you had said on your first night in the manor.

‘You don’t even know why I’m down here, and you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same.’

You were right. He didn’t know why you were there, and that was driving him crazy. He wanted to like you. Truly, he did. But how could he like you when he didn’t know your sin? People got sent to Hell for a reason! They wasted their free will. They sold drugs to kids, murdered people, trafficked victims, tricked and swindled others. For all Lucifer knew, you were there for drowning puppies.

The thought made him deeply uncomfortable.

Okay. He would ask you about it. No big deal. People probably talked about why they went to Hell a lot right? That was a normal conversation for Sinners, probably…

Lucifer wasn’t entirely wrong in thinking that. However, nearly all Sinners lied about what they went to Hell for, making it even more brutal or horrifying to try and earn some extra credit among their fellow Demons. Someone who had killed one person would claim to have been a serial killer. A low-life drug dealer would paint themselves as a mafioso with a drug empire, and arsonists… They didn’t have to lie much, as fires tended to spread quickly and they generally were as psychotic as they claimed to be.

It was all basic self-preservation in Hell. Be the toughest person there, so nobody could find new ways to hurt you. Kill or be killed (figuratively, since Demons couldn’t technically kill other Demons), sink or swim, do unto others before they did unto you.

Right. When Lucifer next saw you, he would ask.

“Hey Lucifer,” You said upon returning to the manor from the Hotel, “You doing okay?”

Lucifer froze. He hadn’t expected to see you so soon. Fuck.

“Hey bitch,” Lucifer greeted, feeling entirely awkward, yet trying to feign confidence.

“Uh… Back at ya,” You reciprocated confusedly.

“Sooooo,” Lucifer started, steepling his fingers together, and holding them to his mouth, his brow knitting together worriedly, “I have a question for you.”

“Oh.” You were surprised by Lucifer’s admission. While the two of you generally made conversation, he didn’t tend to ask too much. Besides, in the preface of announcing his question, it seemed that he was likely to ask you something personal.

You waved your hand casually, indicating that he was free to ask away.

“How- Uh how was everything at the Hotel? Is my little girl doing okay?”

As you smiled and fell into a description of how Charlie was doing and her general excitement about her meeting with Heaven, Lucifer cursed himself. He knew that what he wanted to ask was important, but it was just so personal. Well, at least he was happy to hear about his daughter. There were also some other colourful stories included in your conversation.

Finally, you wrapped up the conversation, effectively ending it when you casually said, “Anyway, I’m going to get ready for bed. I’m real tired, you know?”

Lucifer didn’t say much as you left, he was still pondering whether you might be a puppy killer or relative and accomplice to that Jeffrey Dahmer fellow, or something equally disturbing. If not… Why were you there?

Having gotten ready for bed, you sighed, letting the day’s events wash over you, lifting a weight off your shoulders. You were tired, but the day had been a good productive one. Moreover, it was nice to end the day by standing out on the balcony, overlooking the rest of Hell.

There was a time when you had died, during which you stood atop a building in the main streets watching all the fights, looting, and maiming, and you were horrified. Then, you met Charlie, and she had been so wonderfully pure, good, and non-judgemental that you had to agree with her. Hell could be a home to you, and all the other Sinners who lived there, and Sinners could always change for the better.

While you held onto the balcony railing, leaning over it, and staring at the red horizon, Lucifer approached your open door at the entrance of your room, knocking despite the open invitation to come in.

You turned and smiled at him, your smile putting him at ease.

“Come in,” You offered.

He did so, crossing the large room and taking quick mental notes of the changes you had made. They were minor, but they spoke of your personality. You had lit scented candles, brightening the room – the official scent name was Tapioca Tit-play.

Subconsciously, Lucifer worked his magic to remove the off-smell that he had placed there; it was redundant when your candles covered it, and he didn’t mind your company so much anymore.

He also observed several other items. There was a photograph of everyone at the Hotel, though you had drawn Alastor on the end in crayon since he didn’t love to be captured in photographs (he could bear it unlike being filmed, but he didn’t care much for it.)

Wrapped around your bedposts were nightlights to keep out the dark. On your bed, you had a teddy of one of Sir Pentious’ egg-bois, a gift from him. Husk had gifted you with a bottle of his best Whiskey, though it remained unopened on the nightstand. There was a cockroach/daisy hybrid necklace wrapped around a book. The candles were from Angel Dust. Beneath your pillow was a dagger, gifted by Vaggie, for your protection. Alastor had given you a collection of books from the store in Cannibal Town, including several that were rumoured to have been stolen from Heaven’s library, though nobody was certain where that rumour started or if it was even true, though there were no copies of the books anywhere else in Hell.

Although Lucifer had no way of knowing these items were all presents from your friends at the Hazbin Hotel, he could tell that you cared deeply for the odd assortment by their placement on the two bedside tables; they had been positioned with care, and were well looked after.

Then, his eye caught the rubber duck, slightly hidden behind the picture frame. He remembered making that one. As a hellhound imitation, it was meant to teleport to whoever needed it most inside the Manor, offering protection should they come under attack. Naturally, he and his family didn’t need such protection, but he had been experimenting with what powers he might imbue unto yet another duck.

He decided not to mention it as he joined you on the balcony, looking you over in your pyjamas.

You also spared him a glance, noting that he seemed more relaxed. Although he was still in his usual attire, he had removed his top-hat-crown and his overcoat, revealing the waistcoat and shirt beneath; the sleeves were rolled up, giving him a more casual appearance.

“Hell’s skies are beautiful, aren’t they,” You stated, returning your gaze to the horizon.

Lucifer looked up, but all he saw was Heaven, the home that didn’t want him.

“(Y/N),” He started, forcing himself to look down, so he wouldn’t have to stare at the painfully beautiful golden glow above.

“Hm?”

“How did you end up here?”

Your grip tightened on the railing drawing Lucifer’s gaze to the whites of your knuckles.

Your whole body became tense and you answered with a ragged breath, “I died.”

“Yes but-” Lucifer was about to lead into the question of your sins, but you spoke up again, seemingly misunderstanding the question as you continued, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“I was- I was murdered.”

Lucifer could have explained that the cause of your death wasn’t what he had been driving at, but now he was darkly fascinated. If you were the same kind-hearted, warm person in life, why would anyone wish to bring about your death?

He remained silent as you began recounting the manner in which you had been killed.

“I had a friend,” You started slowly, taking steady breaths between each part of the story that followed as if it would make it any easier. “I mean- I- I thought he was my friend. I loved him. He knew that. He counted on it.”

“I thought that he travelled for work. That’s what he told me. It’s why he was always coming and going. But no… He was just looking for more people like me. He found people. Made us fall for him. Then he- he took me out on a date. Blindfolded me. Said it was a surprise. I- I trusted him, but the blindfold just made it easier for him to- He knocked me out.”

You subconsciously touched the back of your head, remembering the blow that had come with no warning.

Lucifer turned to you, one hand holding onto the railing, the other planted firmly at his side.

“Did he-” He started to ask.

You shook your head. “It wasn’t rape. It was worse.”

You shivered, waiting until you were certain you weren’t going to vomit. Then you continued, your skin ashy.

“I woke up in a- It was like a cinderblock cell, but it had been sort of decorated to look like a fancy suite?”

You recalled the room. It was damp, and the floor was cheaply produced concrete, given away by the amount of air bubbles which had never been levelled and now pocked the surface, like a teenager with bad acne. The cinderblock walls were easy to see, though some talented artist had been paid to paint it with the likeness of the Ritz hotel or somewhere equally fancy. While that had made it look better, it was still clearly a cinderblock wall; then again, you can’t polish a turd, but you can roll it in glitter.

You had been handcuffed to a chair in the centre of the room. Your clothes had been taken, and you had been dressed in a skimpy shortened tuxedo, with a fitted vest instead of a jacket. You remembered screaming till your voice was raw. You screamed so much that you ended up spitting flecks of blood, but nobody came to save you.

“I- I was tied up,” You said simply, downplaying the memory to Lucifer, more for your own sake than his, though he could see the pain behind your eyes.  

Lucifer didn’t interrupt your story, but his anger was growing. Behind him his tail lashed furiously, his eyes became flaming red, and his fangs became sharper. You hadn’t noticed, you were lost in memory, and you had yet to look his way since beginning your story.

You sighed, thinking of the torture, humiliation, and suffering which followed, all at the hands of one man. It wasn’t your captor. It was who he had sold you to.

“It- I was- They were making snuff films. I don’t know how many people died there before or after me but- I was sold to an American. He- He liked to cut things. It was a while before- I don’t know if I bled out, or if my heart stopped, maybe both?”

For the first time, your skin changed colour, turning from your regular human shade to a pale seaweed-green. Against the colourful backdrop, Lucifer could see your now blinding white glowing scars. Upon your death they remained hidden, completely invisible, but now you were distressed… You seemingly did have something of a Demonic appearance after all.

You were a ragdoll.

There wasn’t a part of your body that hadn’t been cut, or originally sliced off, only to be repaired in death. In all likelihood, your real body was probably burned, buried, or dissolved in acid. In Hell, your scars were the stitches that held your body together. Lucifer now understood your human appearance since like a real ragdoll, you were good at playing dress-up. He bet that if you explored your abilities, you would have been able to look like anyone, a skin-changer, but you had adopted your appearance in life; it was likely an accident caused by the trauma of your memories.

“(Y/N),” Lucifer said through gritted teeth. He wanted to be comforting, but he was already thinking of all the ways he would punish your killer and any accomplice he may have had. There were worse things than Death in hell; he would torture those bastards for eternity, and then when he finally grew bored, he would end them with angelic weaponry, wiping their souls from existence, leaving no trace of such monsters.

You didn’t turn to face your King, who was now in his full Demonic form, his rage at its peak.

“Just go,” You murmured despondently, staring over the balcony, and down to the ground. A long drop and a short stop… It was a shame it wouldn’t kill you; at least the pain would end if you died.

“But-” Lucifer reached you to put a hand on your shoulder, his wings almost curling around you as if to envelop you.

“I- I would like to be alone. Please.”

Lucifer hesitantly withdrew his hand, “I’m sorry.”

That was all he said before walking away, leaving you alone.

You wished that you could have been left to wallow, but your phone soon buzzed and you opted to check it in case it was an emergency.

Retrieving it from the bed, you found a message from Charlie.

“EMERGENCY. ANGEL DUST. RELAPSE. GET OVER HERE. PLEASE!”

Damn it! If Charlie was texting you for this, it meant that Husk was either the cause or he wasn’t around to be the solution. Moreover, while Charlie would want to assist her friend, she was likely the last person Angel Dust wanted to see; sometimes, though she was well-intentioned, she just didn’t understand such issues or she could be a bit much.

Still stuck in your ragdoll body, you ran back to the balcony and vaulted over the edge. It wasn’t a smooth landing, and it hurt a lot. Anyone else would have broken their bones, but when you were like this, there wasn’t anything else that could be broken. Everything had already been torn off you. Ignoring the pain, you ran until you found a taxi. You took it to the Hotel.

[applejuicefruit]

one where the reader has just given birth to her first child with kylian, and she has a kind of "postpartum depression", she is very insecure about her body, she is exhausted by the new routine, and whenever she has to breastfeed she cries because her breasts are still sensitive and etc... she hesitates to talk to kylian about it, but after a while he brings it up again to understand what is going on with her, they talk about everything and he comforts and cares her... if u can, please.

I love this request so much 😭

Tw: postpartum depression, depression in general, anxiety, reader being self conscious

Kylian Mbappe x reader

The way you are

Two months ago your life completely changed.

You and Kylian were expecting your first child and you were both thrilled, excited and scared. It was a rollercoaster of emotions but you couldn’t wait to meet the new addition to the family. Two months ago and you gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby boy, Samuel, and you couldn’t be happier. He was Kylian’s twin. But now it was hard for you to get used to the new routine. It wasn’t only waking up in the middle of the night because your baby needed to be changed or fed. It was all the stress that came with the pregnancy. Everyone felt like women had to be happy they welcomed a new life on earth, had to be joyful that the pain they went through for nine months was finally over and had to know everything about taking care of a new born - but it wasn’t like that, these past two months have been hitting you really hard, both mentally and physically.

You were grateful for Kylian to be there every time you needed him, he was such a good father and a very fast learner. His family did helped you a lot too. His mom knew how much having kids could be exhausting so she made sure to watch the baby a couple days so you could rest without getting worried of being woke up.

But still, even if you had free times your mind couldn’t seem to stop. It was a constant fight between you and your brain.

Everytime you looked in the mirror you couldn’t stand the person in front of you. It wasn’t you. You didn’t recognized her. Your body got bigger with the pregnancy, your breast fuller and your legs and feet were always sore.

Breastfeeding was a living hell for you. You thought it would give you joy seeing your baby being so healthy and hungry but you hated those moments and you couldn’t help but think that something was definitely wrong with you. Your breast was always so sensitive and it hurt when Sammy was feeding that you cried every single time. You were always tired more than you were when you were pregnant. The baby took a lot of energy from you.

Kylian noticed that you became quieter and he honestly didn’t like it. You were usually a very talkative person, always bright and joyful, your positive aura protecting you and all the people around you so he started questioning what was going on with you. He waited for you to open up with him but when he saw that you didn’t he broke the silence and made the first move.

“Hey baby…” he approached you one night when you were both in bed, Samuel falling asleep in Kylian’s arms just thirty minutes earlier.

“Hey…” you whispered, completely exhausted.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked laying in bed next to you. You nodded.

“You would tell me if something is wrong, right?” he asked, trying to slowly approach the topic.

“Yes why?” you asked him a bit confused.

“I’m not judging you okay? But…I feel like you���re getting distant from me, from everyone actually and I’m a bit worried…is everything okay baby?” he asked you.

No. Nothing is okay you wanted to say. But you couldn’t complain about it because in your mind, doing all of these painful and tiring things for your baby, would have been absolutely worth it for him in the future, so as a mother you should have endured the pain and going on.

“Yes everything is okay Kylian” you lied.

“Babe please tell me what’s going on? I know you’re not okay I can see that…I just wanna help” he begged you because he hated seeing you like that.

“You wanna help me? Go and breastfeed your child!” you shouted, completely forgetting about the walls you built up and letting all of your emotions coming out “go and look at yourself in the mirror and stand there, staring at someone who’s not you but at the same time looks exactly like you! Take care of Samuel every time he needs to be fed because my breast can’t take it anymore! It hurt Kylian! It hurt so fucking much you have no idea and there’s nothing I can do about it because I am a mom and I shouldn’t be complaining because these are normal things to do but I can’t do it! It’s fucking exhausting and I feel so bad because all I want to do is love my child but I feel like I can’t do it because of all of the pain I’m going though…you have no idea Kylian how every single inch of my body hurts!” you said, completely breaking down.

Kylian was shocked and hurt because he wished he realised sooner that this new routine was completely killing you.

“Baby…hear me out. I love you and that’s not gonna change. I loved your body before and I love your body now because it’s yours. It’s you y/n and I love you just the way you are…” he said holding you in his arms “I’m so sorry you feel this way baby, I really am…I wish I could do something for helping you with the pain…we can try some massages if you want to? I’m open to do anything in my power to make you feel comfortable” he said from the bottom of his heart because he couldn’t stand the idea of you being in pain “what you’re going through it’s normal baby…a lot of women go through postpartum depression and I think talking with a specialist might help you, only if you’re up for it, it’s up to you, but whatever you decide to do I’m here, to help you and support you. You’re not alone in this okay?” he softly said while leaving gentle kisses to your neck.

You calmed down listening to his voice and you were so grateful for having someone like him by your side.

“Thank you Kylian” you said wiping your tears away.

“Don’t thank me baby…I’m here, I will always be here for you, and Sammy, you two are the most important people in my life and I love you so much” he said truthfully.

You fell asleep in his arms, while he softly massaged your back and neck, trying to ease the pain.

[flowercrowngods]

*checks time* a prompt for you. eddie's insomnia versus steve the human weighted blanket. 🥺

in which Eddie hasn’t slept in days and feels like he’s losing his mind. fairy lights, music, and Steve lying down on top of him with promises whispered into his skin are what saves him | cw: gets pretty heavy on the insomnia | 2.8k

Eddie doesn’t sleep. Hasn’t slept in a while. He knows it must have been two days. Maybe three. And before that it’s always just been one lucky hour, maybe two, his body collapsing into blissful darkness before black turns red and he’s back in the Upside down, before silence turns into Chrissy screaming at him, for him, because of him.

Eddie doesn’t sleep. And it’s starting to show. His movements are slow, thinking and speaking takes way longer than it used to, than it should, and everything is dulled. Sometimes he hears voices where there are none, sometimes he misses words directed at him before one of the shrimps call for his attention again, annoyed and only a little worried. Only a little, because Eddie is quirky, Eddie is dramatic, Eddie is like that, right? Right?

Wrong. Eddie is just tired. His hands won’t stop shaking, his mouth won’t stop talking, his thoughts won’t stop running. It doesn’t even feel like he’s in control of himself anymore, and it’s beginning to be real scary.

But even when he thinks, screw the nightmares, I just want some sleep, rest won’t find him. The constant thrum of anxiety keeps it all away and he’s starting to get frustrated, angry, desperate.

He just wants to sleep. Please. The laundry already starts talking to him, and he doesn’t remember hanging it up, and almost panics when it’s gone.

This is fine. It’s all fine. His joints ache, his scars itch, sometimes smiling hurts, but it’s all fine. He just needs sleep.

It all comes to a head when he’s hosting Hellfire for the kids two weeks since his last full night of sleep — and a full night is being generous, because his standards have gone so low as to that meaning he got five hours of almost uninterrupted sleep. Magically, the kids don’t really suspect anything, don’t even notice the bags under Eddie’s eyes or find their own completely misguided whiz kid explanations for it without so much as asking how he’s been doing. Part of him is glad, because they shouldn’t know, shouldn’t worry, shouldn’t see.

It also helps that even complete and utter sleep deprivation can’t ruin Eddie’s Dungeon Master headspace — and so what if the traitorous elf that asked the kids for help sounds a bit like the angry cabinet door he left open all day yesterday because he always forgot to close it? That’s between Eddie and his mind that he’s absolutely been losing.

Everything goes by without a hitch, the kids busy discussing each other’s moves and yelling and hollering, than watching Eddie massage his temples one, two, three times.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. Except his skin has started tingling three hours ago and he knows he shouldn’t drive the kids home, knows he shouldn’t even be hosting them in this state, but he can’t… He can’t let the Upside Down win.

They didn’t get him with red lightning and murderous bats, and now they won’t get him with nightmares or the lack of sleep.

Maybe he’s been cursed. What if he’s cursed? Fuck, what if he’s actually been cursed to die the slow, agonising death that Dustin gave Mike’s character in the one shot he hosted last week, his brain rotting inside his skull and the cure just out of reach, so close but so far? Is that possible? Is that a thing? It sure feels like it, and—

“Eddie?”

Wait.

Steve? Why’s Steve asking for him, calling his name, where is he?

Eddie blinks. And blinks again. Only to find himself in the living room, a shaking hand pressing the telephone to his ear.

He’s been calling Steve. He does not remember. Panic is building inside him and he swallows it down.

I’m not going crazy. I’m not going crazy. I just need to sleep.

“Eds? You there?”

“Yeah, man,” he says, his voice too shaky, not at all sounding like him, and he wonders if someone’s taking over his body. If Vecna is back. If he’s been possessed. Fuck, he might really he possessed, and he shouldn’t be calling Steve, he should keep them all safe, he should—

“What’s up?” Steve asks then, and Eddie sort of never wants him to stop talking, because his head is quiet when he does. Keep talking, Stevie. Please tell me I’m not going crazy. Tell me I’m not cursed. “You okay? Are the kids still there?”

After a moment Eddie finds his breath and his voice, hoping it sounds more like him now. “Yeah, actually, I was wondering if you could come pick them up around nine-ish? I’m not…” okay, he wants to say, but doesn’t. “I can’t really drive. Today.”

There’s a bit of rustling on the other end of the line and Eddie listens, because listening to Steve, to his voice and his movements, is easier than listening to all the things inside his house that suddenly have a voice now.

“Sure,” Steve says. “Yeah, I can come pick them up, no problem. You okay, though? Do you need anything? I can come over sooner if you want, grab them and end Hellfire early. Just say the word, okay?”

Despite himself, Eddie scoffs. “End Hellfire early? Peasant. Heathen! Heretic!”

And Steve just laughs that soft little laugh of his and Eddie listens like his life depends on it.

“Alright, Munson, you little shit, I’ll be there at nine. I’ll just do two rounds, grab you, Dustin and Will on the second one, yeah?”

“Sure, whatever,” Eddie says. Then Steve’s words process and he asks, “Wait, me?”

“Yes, you. I’m not leaving you alone when you sound like… Like you could really use a hug but don’t wanna ask for it, alright? Trust me, I know all about how that sounds. And you don’t gotta be alone, okay? We can just hang out here, don’t even have to talk, just listen to some music or whatever.”

And Eddie doesn’t know what to say. It’s not the sleep deprivation this time, though, it’s Steve Harrington and the way he always seems to know when something’s up. Maybe Eddie’s voice really didn’t sound like him just now, or maybe Steve is just really fucking perceptive and sweet like that.

“The things you listen to are hardly music, Stevie.” That’s all he says. All he can say without breaking into tears, because hanging out with Steve outside of these walls that mock him, laugh at him, talk with him, sounds exactly like what he needs right now.

Well, what he needs is sleep, but Steve feels like second best. And isn’t that something he never expected to feel.

“Shut up, Munson,” Steve laughs, and it’s soft, soft, soft. “But that’s not a no. So I guess I’ll see you then.”

**

Just as promised, Steve is there at exactly 9:00pm. Not one minute early, not one second late. Eddie scoffs and shakes his head as he jogs to the front door.

And maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but Steve looks really fucking pretty with that smug half smile and another stupid polo shirt under his grey jacket. Eddie swallows. It’s probably the sleep deprivation. It definitely is. Because suddenly he wants nothing more than for Steve to come and hug him.

Sleep, hug, hang out. That’s his list now. It’s growing.

He obsesses over that while Steve brings Lucas, Erica and Mike home. Dustin and Will are talking strategies and Eddie busies himself cleaning up, sorting his notes and carefully storing his Hellfire stuff in the little cabinet unter his desk.

When he’s done, because maybe this took longer than it should have after he forgot what he was about to do a grand total of three times, Steve’s just pulling up to come get them for the second round.

Eddie grabs a bag with a change of clothes, a notebook because he doesn’t expect to find any sleep anyway and he wants to keep himself busy with something, even though writing takes precious brain power he’s going to be lacking for basic things such as making himself breakfast or remembering to get into the house when he’s standing by the front door.

Not like that has happened before. More than once, that is.

With his bag packed, he goes to grab Will and Dustin and together they head out to where Steve’s waiting outside his car, just leaning against it like he’s the goddamn protagonist of some shitty movie. Maybe he’s seen too many of those. Maybe Steve should stop working at Family Video, the movies are a bad influence apparently.

The car ride is blessedly silent, the only noise being the quiet music coming from the radio, and Eddie closes his eyes as he lets street lights wash over him. In the back, Will and Dustin do the same. Everyone’s tired after Hellfire, Eddie knows. Sometimes he catches Steve smiling when he comments on how he hates driving the kids home after their sessions because they always manage to fall asleep on the short ride home and he gets to be the asshole that wakes them up.

Eyes closed, the vision of Steve’s fond smile and faux exasperation in his mind’s eye, Eddie smiles. It’s only when the constant, pleasant rumble of the engine stops and the world is cast in absolute silence, that he opens his eyes. Steve’s watching him, but instead of that smile Eddie’s been dreaming of, there’s a worried expression waiting for him.

“You look like shit,” Steve says so, so quietly, and Eddie sags into the seat, twisting around to face Steve completely as he loses every ounce of fight left in him.

“Can’t sleep,” he says, rasps, whispers.

Steve just looks at him. He’s always looking, always seeing. “Nightmares?”

Eddie shakes his head, plays with one of the loose threads where his jeans are ripped at the knees. “Not even nightmares, just… Insomnia, Nancy called it. I love how she has a fancy word for everything.”

“Shit, man. I’m sorry.” Steve sounds like he means it, and Eddie wants to wrap himself up in that. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Tell me I’m not going crazy?” The words leave his mouth before he can hold them back and Eddie hates how small he sounds, how scared, how tired.

But Steve, oh, Steve, he’s not small or scared or tired. He’s none of that. He’s not weak like Eddie, because after looking for five, six, seven seconds, Steve turns to open his door and gets out of the car. Eddie’s heart sinks and he rubs at his eyes — his dry, aching, burning eyes, protesting at never getting to close anymore.

Then the front passenger door opens and Steve is there, kneeling beside him, taking Eddie’s hands from his eyes and holding them in his own.

“You’re not going crazy, Eddie. I promise you, you’re not going crazy.”

Eddie doesn’t look at Steve, can’t possibly meet the eyes that belong to this incredibly sincere and kind voice. He keeps his eyes on the dashboard instead, watching as the unmoving shadow of a tree morphs into different shapes right before his eyes, his mind playing tricks on him without hiding it anymore.

“Sure feels like it, though,” he whispers. Or he thinks he does. He’s not so sure anymore, watching the one shadow become two, then three. He closes his eyes, clenches them shut like it would make all his problems disappear.

Maybe it does, because like this, there’s only Steve’s voice as he’s talking so gently, so quietly, so unlike anything and everything Eddie has ever known.

The words don’t really register, but one moment Eddie is sitting in the car, the next he’s standing, and it’s warm and it smells like Steve and— oh. They’re hugging. Steve is hugging him. Holding him. Talking still like he knows Eddie needs it, like he knows the world will fade and shift and morph if he doesn’t, like he wants nothing more than to talk Eddie down from this brink of madness.

Then there’s a hand in his and the air is cold again, but it’s fine because there’s a hand and its guiding, holding, soothing.

A door falls closed, a lock clicks, and the hand is still there.

They’re in Steve’s house. Then in Steve’s room. And then there’s music. The hand is gone, and Eddie blinks, his eyes aching, so dry and tired and angry him.

Steve gently, so very gently pushes him to sit down on his bed, but Eddie doesn’t have the strength to sit, so he falls backward until he’s lying on Steve’s bed. It’s soft, comfortable. There’s a string of lights on the wall behind his headboard casting the room in warm light, and Eddie wonders if it’s Christmas soon.

It’s not. It’s August.

It doesn’t make sense.

But they’re pretty.

Eddie is only staring for a while while Steve is off doing something or other, and then he’s back in Eddie’s line of sight.

“Can I try something?”

Eddie just stares.

“It’s absolutely cool if you don’t want to, man, but I do this with Robbie sometimes when she can’t sleep. It doesnt work on me this way around, I always have to be on top, I hate having something on my chest, but—“

“Stevie, I have very limited brain capacity right now.”

“Right, sorry,” he laughs sheepishly and then rests one knee on the mattress. That’s when it hits Eddie that he’s lying in Steve Haddington’s bed, and that aforementioned Steve Harrington has nothing better to do about it than to fucking smile at him.

“Tell me if it’s bad. Seriously, tell me. Uncomfortable, bad, panic-inducing or just plain wrong, yeah? Tell me.”

And Eddie doesn’t understand what on Earth he’s supposed to tell Steve, when…

Steve’s lying down on top of him. They’re touching from knee to shoulder, Steve’s head landing on his collarbone. He’s warm. He’s heavy, and for a second Eddie can’t breathe and it’s too much, his lungs can’t fill, he can’t—

“Breathe, Eddie.”

And he does. And it’s the easiest breath he took all day. He takes another. And another. And all of them smell of Steve, all of them are warm, all of them a promise that he’s not losing his mind or his sanity. His heart, possibly, but that’s a problem for a different day.

“Better?” Steve asks, his breath leaving goosebumps on Eddie’s skin.

He nods. His hands coming up to wrap around Steve because part of him is still scared that this is a dream, a hallucination, or that Steve will decide it’s enough, he can leave Eddie to his business of losing his mind again.

But Steve’s not going anywhere. He shifts, getting comfortable on top of Eddie and promises into the skin of his throat, “I’m not going anywhere, Eddie. I’ve got you and you’re safe. Close your eyes for me, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

And, miraculously, Eddie believes him. The weight of Steve on top of him, his promise now eternalised in Eddie’s skin, and the quiet tunes coming from the record player take him where he hasn’t been in far too long.

He doesn’t even have the time to think about the way his past self would scoff at him for letting Steve Harrington lie down on him like this. For holding him close.

There’s only Steve who keeps him safe from the brink of insanity and guides him to a much gentler, warmer, kinder place. It’s a bit like insanity, actually, but at least here there’s someone to take his hand and hold it.

The last thought that crosses his mind is the list he made earlier. Sleep, hug, hang out.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

**

This quickly turns into the only way Eddie can fall asleep, and he’s embarrassed about it at first. Feels like a burden and doesn’t ask for it, spends most nights alone and with the resolution that he just won’t sleep. But Steve finds out and makes him come over again or just kidnaps him in broad daylight.

Every night they spend like this, Steve promises the same thing. “I’m not going anywhere, Eddie. I’ve got you and you’re safe. Close your eyes for me, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Every night they spend like this, Eddie believes him as he winds his arms around Steve in turn and holds him.

And then, over time, words whispered into skin turn into the tentative press of lips there. They turn into kisses, into more promises, declarations, pleas.

Some nights turn into most nights, into every night, and Eddie doesn’t lose his sleep again, not like that. Sometimes it’s Steve who wakes up from a nightmare but Eddie is there to soothe him, to make promises of his own and to hold him until he’s asleep again.

They make it work. And somewhere along the way, somewhere between sleep and promises, underneath the fairy lights Steve never takes down, they fall in love.

It’s a different kind of insanity, and one that Eddie never wants to run from.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Can you write a jimmy uso x reader with the recent events that went on with smackdown and him going to the hospital

yup!

jimmy uso x reader

tw : hospital (?), nothing bad in general



through hell with you

everything that was happening with the bloodline was happening way too fast for you. you saw your family falling into pieces and you couldn’t do nothing to stop it.

you weren’t a professional wrestler but you met jimmy and jey when you started working in the backstage of the wwe. the moment you met jimmy something sparkled between the two of you, anyone could feel it.

you started dating only a few weeks later and now, two years later you were married and living a happy life together. his family welcomed you with open arms and you couldn’t be more grateful.

when the whole bloodline thing started you were actually so happy to see them all together, they were a family and seeing them fighting together and having each other’s back made you happy. but things started to going down too fast for your liking and in a matter of time it was just jimmy and jey against the rest of the bloodline.

you didn’t want this to happen but you couldn’t do anything about it.

when jimmy and jey won at money in the bank you couldn’t contain your happiness, you knew what that meant for them.

but things got worse the week after, during smackdown, as jimmy got injured because of roman. you couldn’t believe your eyes, you were currently watching the show behind the scene and you knew the moment jimmy fell that he was hurt in a very bad way. you were used to his matches and his injuries but you’ve never saw him like that.

your heart missed a few beats and when you saw the ambulance ready in the backstage you knew it was really bad. you rushed out from the twins locker room and ran through the ambulance when you saw jimmy laid on the stretcher and jey running next to him.

“oh my…” you couldn’t even speak.

you rushed to his side and jey motioned for you to go with him at the hospital.

the ambulance ride was silent, filled with anxiety and worry.

“don’t worry baby, i’m here…” you whispered to jimmy. you knew he was awake but he wasn’t fully conscious so you didn’t know if he was hearing you or not but you kept talking to him anyway. even the nurse told you that you were doing a good job in supporting him.

“everything is going to be okay…you’re okay” you whispered once again, leaving a soft kiss over his hand. you quickly wiped the few tears that fell from your eyes, you were worried sick but you needed to be strong for jimmy and jey too, since he stayed back at the arena, you knew he was worried and he was waiting for any news on his twin.

once at the hospital, jimmy was brought to the examination room but you couldn’t go in so you stayed outside pacing around the waiting room. when the doctors left the room they didn’t tell you what was wrong with him but they told you that you could visit him if you wanted to.

you silently entered the room, not wanting to scare him or wake him up and sat next to the bed. he was awake and clearly in pain but the moment he saw you he smiled.

“hey…” he said, his voice cracking a bit.

“don’t talk baby…i’m here” you said grabbing his hand “i’m glad to see you awake…” you whispered, letting him know your fears.

“i’ll always wake up when i have you by my side…” he said making you tear up a little.

“you got us all worried…you know, if something happened to you i would have walked through hell and heaven just to find you and bring your ass back here” you joked making him laugh a little.

“that’s very nice of you” he sarcastically said still laughing. you noticed how tired he was and you didn’t want to be the reason he was keeping himself awake.

“you should sleep a bit…i’m not going anywhere…” you said to him. he nodded and closed his eyes.

you sent a quick text to jey, knowing how much worried he was.

jey bro >3

he’s doing okay, in pain and probably injured but he’ll survive. still being very sarcastic so we shouldn’t worry very much lol.

jey calmed himself down when read the message, thanking you for always being by his side.

and he was right, you couldn’t wait to bring jimmy back home so you could take care of him.