#but jeez you don’t have to tear down other versions

[nightglider124]

Some people in fandom are honestly wild. Like y’all need to chill tf out and go touch some grass.

[cxtori]

Osamu Dazai ✮ Reckless (Angst Version)

summary: you vent your frustrations to Dazai after the crazy stunt he pulled with Fyodor

genre: angst, kiiinda comfort, cleaning his injuries, Dazai being a protective idiot

wc:835

warnings: n/a, some Dead Apple spoilers

tori’s note: I’m posting a second version of this story that will be more lighthearted/fluffy than this one. I just liked the concept and when I started writing I realized this could go two different ways. So I just wrote both lmao. Here's the fluffy version!

You were frustrated. No, that only begins to describe it. You were pissed, furious, irate. Whatever other powerful words there are to describe extreme anger, you were feeling it. 

You pour some antiseptic onto the cotton pad in your fingers, the fibrous material soaking up the liquid quickly. You raise it to Dazai’s back and press it against the deep wound resting there.

“Ahh,” Dazai hisses. “Jeez, you could be a little more careful.” You can hear the pain in his voice, but you can also hear the teasing tone underneath it. Your face scrunches in annoyance.

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you,” you huff and continue to clean his wound. 

He’d explained what had happened, how he’d been quite literally stabbed in the back with a poison coated dagger. looking at its placement, it’s a miracle the blade didn’t hit his spine. just an inch further to the right and this whole situation could have been very different.

“I can’t believe you left like that. You should have told me,” you say quietly. 

“I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have worked out like this if I did, you know that.”

And you did. But still. He disappeared so suddenly and the next thing you knew he was working with someone who planned to destroy your home? You knew Dazai would never betray you like that, not seriously. But at the same time, seeing him in that light scared you.

You finish cleaning his back and apply antibiotics and bandages, adding to the many that were already wrapped haphazardly around him. 

Once you’re done, you move to stand in front of him and begin to clean the various cuts and scrapes on his front side. You prepare another cotton pad and swipe over the wounds, none of them being severe enough to require much attention.

As you work, Dazai’s eyes are keenly focused on you. He watches as you carefully clean him up, a soft but determined look on your face, though it’s almost entirely hidden by the frustration distorting your features. 

A smile spreads across his lips and he wraps a hand around your free one. You ignore him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of falling for his flirty little tricks. 

You were both aware of the effects he had on you and, though he didn’t use it against you often, he would use it to his advantage. And right now it was in hopes of getting you to not be angry at him.

As your eyes scan over the marks scattering his body, your vision begins to blur. Before you can stop it, there are tears falling from your eyes. Are these angry tears, sad tears or relieved tears? You have no idea. Maybe it’s all of them at once.

“You idiot. Why do you have to be so careless?” You ask, your voice just above a whisper. Dazai looks at you, his smile slowly fading into a thoughtful but somber expression. He knows you aren’t expecting an answer, but he replies anyway.

“Because I care for you.” And that’s really all it boiled down to. He recklessly puts himself in dangerous situations if he knows that’s what it’ll take to protect his home and friends. To protect you. Even so, you hated his methods.

“I was so worried, Osamu,” you say quietly, afraid that your voice will crack too much if you speak normally. Despite your low tone, the pain and fear in it rings loud and clear. Dazai’s hand grips yours tighter.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to act like you’re working alone.” He doesn’t reply, only drops his gaze to where his hand is wrapped carefully around yours. 

You’d had this conversation countless times before. That he is part of a team that is more than capable of handling serious situations. That he doesn’t have to jump head first into danger to solve problems. That he has other’s to lean on. That he has you. 

But no mater how many times you said this, it never changed. And it terrifies you.

“It’s just… what if you had-”

“I didn’t, that’s what matters,” Dazai says, cutting you off. His hand leaves yours to rest on your face instead, his palm cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes over your cheek, wiping away your drying tears. 

“Please, don’t ever do that again.”

“You know I can’t make that promise.”

He was right. He will continue to keep you in the dark if he knows that’s what it takes to keep you safe, even if you both hate it. There was no point in promising that he wouldn’t. 

His hand moves from your face to the back of your neck, tangling his fingers into your hair. He brings your face closer to his, his dark brown eyes looking into yours intently.

“I love you, more than anything,” He whispers and places a kiss to your forehead. “And I only want to protect you.”

And that’s what he’ll continue to do.

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate any of my works. reblogs are appreciated

[rosedpetal]

Fandom Leap - Chapter 8

Series Masterlist

Word count: 1.8k

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

A/N: My contribution is finally here! Just wanna say I'm flattered to be in this project with such wonderful authors! @nickfowlerrr @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @crazyunsexycool @swiftlymoniquesblog @missvelvetsstuff @vibraniumarm06-bucket @rosedpetal @imyourbratzdoll @herdreamywasteland @jamneuromain @potterhead2207@supraveng

Previous chapter || You can both feel a shift in the air around you. Sitting in each other's presence the feeling begins to come over you, “Buck, I don’t wanna go” You whisper softly gripping his hand tight. “Please don’t leave me, Doll” his voice trembling in fear, You can’t help but shed some tears because You don’t want to go either, but You have no control over this. “Come back to me baby, please” He whispers holding you close to him, his please sounds absolutely broken which makes your heart heavier. “I love y-,” as the shift overtakes You, You can still feel his presence. Shedding a few tears your heart feels heavy and You hope that where you end up next is a place in which you will be safe and protected like how You were with Bucky.

There was a pounding in your head. Your eyelids were heavy when you opened them, and by the way your stomach rumbled, you knew you had to eat something rather sooner than later.

You looked at your surroundings. You were lying in a queen-sized bed with a cherry print bedding set, a nightstand to your left that had a pink alarm clock that seemed to be broken by having been beaten against the wall too many times.

"Wakey-wakey."

You screamed. You finally acknowledged the pretty blonde that was lying next to you.

"Caroline Forbes?"

It really was her. Her perfect golden locks were around her head like a halo, and her shiny green eyes had smudged mascara around them.

She was as stunning as a beauty queen, all the same.

"Are we on a full-name basis now, Y/N L/N?" She teased you, and yawned, stretching her arms and sitting up in the bed.

"What happened last night?" You asked, the memories all blurred and confusing in your head.

She grinned at you. "Before or after you confessed to Elijah Mikaelson that he was the hottest man on earth?"

Oh. My. God.

"I need context, Care."

She squinted her eyes at you.

"I knew we shouldn't have let you get in a drinking contest with Damon."

"Damon Salvatore?"

"Who else would it be? You're so weird this morning, jeez."

Of course. You were in The Vampire Diaries universe. You didn't know where this left you, or why you had a previous life here. Maybe it was a pattern. The first two times you didn't belong. The third, you did. In other universes, you were an anomaly. A version of you probably didn't exist in those places.

Here, you could see by the memory board in the wall with pictures of you with Bonnie Bennett, Elena Gilbert, Tyler Lockwood, Matt Donovan and the Salvatore siblings that you actually belonged here.

Hell, there even was a polaroid taken by you of Rebekah Mikaelson flipping the camera (you) off, the caption "Barbie Klaus" written with permanent marker under the picture.

Like everything was right.

Except, something was missing.

As your mind drifted to Bucky's lovingly gaze on you and the feel of his hand in your strong grip, the way you were holding on for dear life when you shifted again...

You got up too fast, almost falling in the process, and ran to the toilet. Caroline was behind you next, holding your hair while you threw up.

You had tears in your eyes when she turned the shower on and helped you out of your clothes, washing your hair without another word as you sobbed uncontrollably.

Caroline held you in her arms when you couldn't formulate words, brushing your hair and getting you into something comfortable.

"Do you want to lay down?"

You nodded your head negatively.

"I need to tell you something, Care."

"What is it?" Her voice was soft but you knew she was worried about you. She was your best friend in the whole world.

This world, at least.

"I'm not Y/N. Well, not the Y/N you grew up with, at least. I'm from another universe, and I'm scared to death because I want to go back to my fiancé, but I don't belong there either."

You told her the whole story, from how you were just struggling with too much work and had nothing going on in your life, to the Comic Con event and how you just woke up the next day to find yourself in Bucky's universe. How you jumped through dimensions, finding your favorite characters and bonding with them.

You left out the part that you were obsessed with The Vampire Diaries in your teens. You were not about to tell Caroline she was a character in a show and all the shit that was about to happen to her and each one of your friends in Mystic Falls.

After you finished, Caroline stared at you with wide eyes. "We can't seem to catch a break, can we?"

"What do I do now, Care?"

"Babe, you're friends with vampires, witches, a werewolf and the originals. You have Matt too, but he's human like you so he's useless about anything involving the supernatural. No offense. We'll find a way."

You sniffed, hugging her. "Thank you, Care. Now tell me what the hell was last night about!"

She laughed.

"We threw you a birthday party. Bonnie casted a spell on you so you wouldn't get too drunk when you and Damon started taking shots."

"Oh, crap. And why Elijah was there? Doesn't seem like his type of fun."

"It's not." She snorted. "But he came anyway because he adores you."

It felt weird when she said that, the thought of you with another man making you sick. There was a little flirting now and then, but you couldn't forget that you were about to get married.

Why did it hurt so fucking much?

"Now get up! We're doing research before you leave us too." Caroline laughed humorlessly. Deep down, you knew she was just as afraid as you.

"So, you've made all of us come here, and not that I want to bitch about it, but I had to change shifts last minute, just for you to come with this nonsense story when in reality Y/N could just be losing her shit?"

"Matt!" Elena glared at him.

"I'm not blaming her! I'm just saying, with all the things we have to go through because of you guys, maybe she's just so stressed that her mind is finally shattering?"

"For the love of Taylor Swift, shut up." Damon rolled his eyes at Matt. "Don't worry, kid. We all believe you and we know you're not crazy."

"Not that I'm condoning with that asshole, but what if Y/N is really going insane?"

"Tyler, I'm right here!" You crossed your arms, outraged. "I didn't give you this shit when I found out you were a werewolf." You complained.

Caroline called everyone to the Salvatore's boarding house, just so you didn't have to repeat the same story over and over again. That's why she had the Mikaelson siblings on the speakerphone too.

"Bon, what do you think?" Elena turned to the witch, who had a serious look on her face.

"I don't know. Granny never had the chance to explain to me about multiple simultaneous lives. Let alone the multiverse jumping. All I know is that is possible, but I don't play with this kind of magic. It bends all the rules we know of."

"I'd ask my mother if she wasn't dead." Klaus finally spoke on the other side, and you almost smiled at his words. "The best I can do to help sweet Y/N is get Freya to do some research."

"Thank you so much, Klaus." You sighed, feeling a little bit better.

"In the meanwhile, what can we do?" Stefan asked.

"If there's nothing we can do, we can put her in a straitjacket."

"Too soon, Damon." You murmured, sending him a death glare.

Caroline took on a mission to distract you from your distress. She dressed you up and took you to the Mystic Grill, ordered pancakes and soda for you both, and took you to see the most important spots in the city.

"That's Elena's house. We tried to smoke cigarettes in her room when we were fifth graders and we spent a whole bottle of her mother's perfume to mask the tobacco scent. There's a spot under her rug where we put them out."

"In Bonnie's place, she finally told you she was a witch."

"Damon and you were playing stupid games as always, and he dared you to go to the forest on a full moon, that's when Tyler almost bit you. I tried to save you and he bit me instead, so Klaus had to come here and cure me."

"Matt, Vicky and you used to play hide and seek in the church when you guys were little."

"Oh! You're gonna love this one! Elijah gave you a daylight ring right there in the gazebo! He told that if you ever transitioned you'd need one and it would be nice if that was already taken care of."

The memories were permanently imprinted on you. How you and Caroline always teamed up against Bonnie and Elena when the four of you fought, how angry you were at Matt when he couldn't let Elena move on, how heartbroken you became at Vicky's funeral.

And the day Elijah gave you the daylight ring, you were so touched by his gesture that you spilled "I love you." in a serious tone before hugging him. He was taken back by your reaction, but he hugged you back.

The sun was setting in the horizon, when Caroline received a call. She smiled at you in a cryptic way.

"Okay, I'm taking her."

The whole drive back to the Salvatore's board house was silent. You suddenly had a feeling your time in Mystic Falls was ending.

Caroline pulled over and walked you to the front door. She sighed.

"This is my cue. I hope you find what you're looking for, Y/N. And I just want you to know that you are my best friend and you are loved in every universe you exist. Please, never forget me."

You sniffed, and hugged her tight. Caroline's delicate form embraced you.

"Thank you, Care. I love you to the moon and back. And hopefully, in a few hours, you'll have your Y/N version back."

Caroline took off full vampire speed, leaving you alone on the Salvatore doorstep. The door opened, and a gasp left your lips.

"Elijah?"

"Whenever you say "I love you", you always say "to the moon and back" too. Must've been too much on her."

You looked over your shoulder, grateful for everything Caroline has done for you in the last hours. She let you go without putting up a fight, just so you didn't have to worry about her too.

"I guess we are alone?" You raised your brow, and Elijah's lip curled upwards.

He offered you his hand and as you took it in your own, he guided you to the living room.

"Freya and Bonnie crafted this." He took a little bottle of his pocket, the content a red liquid that resembled blood. "You just have to drink it, and you'll be off again. I guess you'd like to finally do this in your own terms."

"I don't know what to say."

"Then allow me, Y/N. You are a kind soul. You told me once that I deserved to have a life of my own and pursue my own dreams instead of always taking care of Niklaus. You were the one who confronted him when everyone was walking on eggshells around him, and you captivated all of us. You deserve to have a life of your own too, Y/N, and I know it's gonna be brilliant."

As he spoke, Elijah brought the bottle to your lips, and you drank its rich liquid. As you felt the ground swirl under your feet and Elijah becoming more and more distant, all you could keep was an opal daylight ring.

[winniemaywebber]

Chickie!! Those prompts are so cute omg 🥰 I’d love to see 70 & 80 for our darlings Harry and Jean, 72 & 75 for Olive & Dougie?

hi pookie!! thanks so much for your request, I loved writing these :')

from this prompt list (inbox is still open for more of these!)

under the cut to save space

70 & 80 - Jean and Croz

“you're so beautiful,” “how can you think I'm anything but hopelessly in love with you?”

Jean stifles a sob as she sits in the lavatory cubicle, head bent back so no tears fall down her rouged cheeks and ruin her expertly applied make up. It had taken so much time and effort, Val offering to stop by earlier than the babysitting duties intended. Mrs Crosby had protested, not wanting to trouble her.

“Jeez, let me give you a little pamper, Jean,” she had said, pulling out all her supplies. “Goodness knows you deserve it.” Jean had nodded, sitting opposite Valencia as she surveyed her skin tone. “Besides, how else am I to thank you for all those martinis? Best I’ve ever had.”

Jean Crosby takes another few minutes to calm down, the reminder of a few moments ago coming back to her. A woman across the restaurant had made doe eyes at her husband, and he had smiled back with no other intentions than to look friendly. Jean isn’t sure what triggered such anger over the exchange - she wasn’t a jealous person, not usually. But this anger burning inside her tells her otherwise, the fury bubbling up into her gut and making her nauseous, bile burning at her throat. 

To say Jean Crosby was struggling with her image after having her son was an understatement. Before getting pregnant, Jean had enjoyed how she looked, admiring herself on occasion in the mirror and seeing nothing to sniff at. These days, it’s a challenge to even look at herself, her stomach now soft and still a little bloated, not quite being able to fit into the clothes she used to. Bing always reassured her that she was beautiful, how pretty she was every single moment he could. But it seemed to be just words to her, not quite being able to believe he could love this version of her - this version that he had come home to after years at war, totally different to the newlywed he’d left as he shipped out. 

***

“All set?” Croz asks as he sees her approach their table. He pulls her wrap from the back of her chair and puts it around her shoulders, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. He breathes her in as she can’t help but smile at him, the anger instantly melting away.

“Goodness me, Mrs Crosby,” he begins, wrapping his arm around her waist as they vacate the building. “You smell lovely.” 

Once home, they’re greeted happily by Val who is sitting at the dining table, giving her nails a refresh. “He was no trouble, Jean,” she says, gathering her things. “Out like a light right at eight. What a doll he is.” “Thank you, Val,” Harry says, helping her with her jacket. “Sure you don’t need a ride home?” “Oh, no,” she replies, shaking her head. “Ev should be here in…” her voice drifts off as they hear the squeak of brakes outside. “Well, right now, I guess. Bye, Crosbys!”

At her exit, Bing can barely wait for the door to close before he’s clinging to his wife and nuzzling into her neck. She doesn’t respond like she usually does, Harry pulling back and looking at her in confusion.

“Darling, what is it?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looks up at him, eyes all glassy. “My little wife, don’t cry.” His voice is soft and soothing, his hand stroking her face as his big brown cow eyes widen in concern. “Did I do something to upset you?” “No,” she chokes out. “Yes. Maybe?” “A straight answer would be nice, my love. I need to know.” “Saw you making eyes at that lady at dinner. She was so beautiful and I’m–” “Hey,” he protests, holding her close. “I felt her looking at me and I just smiled back to be friendly. I wasn’t looking at anyone else but you, Jean.”

“I know, and I feel so silly, but it’s–it’s since having the baby I just feel so…” “So…” “Different. So unlike myself. I’m not the same girl you left, Harry. I’m not the young, peppy newlywed that fit into pretty dresses anymore. You came back to someone with a totally different body after I’d given birth to our baby. I just don’t know if you like this version of me because I’m not sure if I do.” “Honey,” he soothes, grasping her by the shoulders. “You’re so beautiful. You’re my wife, Mrs Crosby. How lucky am I that you stuck by me through all those years of being apart, all the stupid mistakes I made? I love the version of you I had to leave behind and I love this version that I’ve come home to. Because with you, I am home. You are my home.”

She sniffs, snuggling into him as he leans his head on hers. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know if you feel the same way you did all those years ago.” “My darling wife, how can you think I'm anything but hopelessly in love with you?”

“Things are different now. We have a son, there’s a little less freedom,” she huffs, following it with an eyeroll. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. If anything, it makes me love you all the more. You are always the most beautiful woman in the room to me.” “Thank you, darling,” she sniffs, kissing him. She listens intently for any baby cries, but none come. “Shall we go upstairs for a cuddle before baby boy wakes for his feed?” “You read my mind, my little wife.”

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

72 & 75 - Olive and Dougie

“I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it,” “I'm going for a swim, do you wanna join me?”

“Ugh.” 

Olive twists and turns, this way and that, scrutinizing her reflection a little too harshly. She skulks back into the closet to change again, fishing through dresses and undergarments to find a one piece swimsuit that piques her interest. “Final try,” she sighs, totally spent and exasperated before she's even left the hotel room to join her friends for the last day of their vacation together. 

She knew they wouldn’t care how she looked - in fact, she knew they'd go as far as to whoop and cheer the second they saw her. Jean Crosby had once said that Olive could wear a flour sack and be able to pull it off. The memory of that statement sticks in Olive’s mind as she pulls on the swimsuit, it clinging to her in  all the wrong places. 

“Oh, for goodness sake,” she whispers to herself, knowing that she's out of choices. “Hey, James!” she calls into the bathroom, her husband brushing his teeth. “Go on without me, I'm not ready yet.”

“Oh? Okay.” 

He emerges to find Olive sat on the bed and back in her pajamas, shuffling to find where she left off in her novel. 

“I'm going for a swim if you wanna join me?”

“No thanks,” Olive says pointedly.

“So when you said you're not ready, did you even get as far as standing, or…?”

“Yes, actually,” she replies stiffly, not looking up from the book. “I tried on all five swimsuits and it was hard to look at. So, you go ahead.”

“How long will you be?” 

She raises an eyebrow at his question, embarrassment washing over her. “I may have to give our final day a miss.”

“I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it,” he replies, a sterner tone leaving him than they are both used to. “Try on the blue one.”

“No,” she says, brow furrowing to keep the emotion at bay. 

“Honey, you're probably just a little bloated from all the good food we've been eating this week. Plus, all the cocktails and the desserts–”

“You've made your point, James,” she sighs, retreating back to the closet and picking the blue two-piece her husband seemed to have his heart set on. She moodily puts it on before slamming back out of the door. “Happy?”

“My god,” he gasps, his eyes drinking in every little drop of her. “Blissfully.” He opens the door quickly, shouting towards the hubbub of their friends as they pile out of the door to the swimming pool.

“Hey, we're gonna be a minute. See you in a second.”

Olive looks at him in confusion as he closes the door. “But I'm ready?”

“I'm about to get you un-ready for just a little while.”

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter 14: Alone

Season One | Season Two | Season Three | Season Four

Raining Hellfire: Season Four

Word Count: 4611 words

Warnings: swearing, mentions of dead bodies, illusions to drowning, blood, violence, death, just a lot of sad things

[A/N: this one is a lot and honestly i need to stop creating characters that die all the time]

Alone

“Y/n! Y/nnnnnn!”

You groan, removing the arm that had been shielding your eyes and looking to the girl led down beside you.

“Whaaaaat?” You mimic and she lets out a giggle.

“I’m bored.” She states so matter-of-factly that you were ready to hit her.

“So you wake me up for that?” You place your arm back in place only for her to grab it.

It turned into a small quarrel, grabbing each others arms and wrestling until she was named the victor.

“Okay, okay, jeez.” You laugh, batting her hand away, “We’ll go to the beach or something.”

“Actually…” She raises her eyebrows and you groan, shaking your head.

“No, please, no. I hate that game, I don’t even understand-”

The board is thumped down in front of you and you let out a sigh.

“I should never have gotten you that for your birthday.” You complain, crossing your arms.

“You only did this to yourself.” She grinned as she began setting up the game, eyes lit with excitement.

You smile at her, heart pounding. She was your best friend. You’d do anything for her.

“No.”

You whisper into the darkness, staring down at the body.

Steve had disappeared, leaving you stood by yourself as guilt poured into your mind.

You take a step closer, tears streaming down your face. This couldn’t be happening. You thought Nancy had died, and now you were face to face with your past.

Leaning over her, you look at her features and your breath hitches. You were right. It was Lillian.

Suddenly, her eyes snap open and you let out a gasp, jumping back and stumbling over an obstacle. You crashed to the floor, hitting it hard and losing air.

“Shit.” You breathe, slowly sitting to take deep breaths.

As you looked around, you were no longer in the darkened and flipped version that was Eddie’s trailer.

It was pitch black, nothing you could see for miles. Then, there’s a glint of red behind you, casting onto the back of your hand as you lifted it, examining further. Holding your breath, you turn around, a scream caught in your throat.

You were stood staring at the same place that haunted your nightmares. The same place you lost everything. The same place Lillian…

“Don’t you remember?”

The voice pulls you away from the reddened, vine covered pool, causing you to turn and almost cry on the spot.

Lillian stood in front of you, dressed the same way she looked at your birthday party. Her jet-black hair was loose around her shoulders, strands pulled into braids at the back of her head to show off her pretty features. Her dark brown eyes were wide, coated with mascara as her punctuated lips were curved into a small smile. A smile you never thought you’d see again.

“Lillian?” You whisper out, frozen in place. She simply tilted her head, scrunching her nose at you. Like she always did when you were being silly.

“Obviously.” She giggles, stepping closer. “Who else would I be?”

Your eyes widen. Remember why you are here. Remember.

“Vecna.” You state and this time, she frowns.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Lillian’s voice lowers and she stalks towards you now, causing you to back up with small steps. “I would have thought that you’d feel guilty, Y/n Mayfield.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Your voice cracks and a tear rolls down Lillian’s cheek, your chest tightening with every emotion she shed.

“Didn’t you?” She challenges.

You feel the heel of your shoe reaching the side of the pool and you stop. Lillian halts as soon as she is stood an inch apart from you.

“It was an accident.” You say quietly and she lets out a breathy laugh.

“Accident.” She clicks her jaw, eyes drifting to the water behind you. “Accident. Yeah, that’s what it was.”

“You should be alive.” You state and she slowly turns back to look at you. “It was my fault. I know that. And I’ve thought about that night every single day for the last five years. If I could… if I could take it all back… I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Would you?”

“Yes!” You yell with a choked sob, grabbing onto her shoulders. She felt cold under your touch. “I wouldn’t have said those things to you! I would have listened! I- I would never have drank or fought with you. I would never have been that close to the water-”

“Right.” Lillian says quietly, her eyes darker than usual. “Because I just… fell. Right? That’s the story you keep telling yourself?”

“… what?” You shake your head, lowering your hands back to your sides and you watched as she suddenly brought her hand to your cheek.

“I can’t explain it.” She lowers her head before looking up at you through her eyebrows, a stomach-churning smirk on her face. “Let me show you instead.”

Her hand travels down to your chest and she pushes you, hard.

With a scream, you fall back into the pool, water rushing in all around you as pockets of air bubble from your mouth. It became darker and darker until you were able to take one painful breath.

Gasping, you sit up, head spinning out of control. You can’t focus on one thing; there are too many blurry objects in your vision to understand where you are. Until…

“Y/n?”

You turn your head, eyes adjusting to the boy stood in front of you with a crooked smile and your heart clenched at the sight.

“Billy?” You slowly stand, eyes never leaving his in fear of really looking around. You just couldn’t believe you were seeing Billy again, regardless of if it was a memory.

His outfit was from the same night, too, his hair a little shorter but just as scruffy as it always has been. And the red solo cup in his hand had a lipstick print around the edge. Your lipstick.

You didn’t need to look around to know exactly where you were. From the blast of music echoing around crowds of people that never really knew you, the stench of alcohol polluting the air. This time, there were no vines. In fact, everything was precisely how it looked on your 14th birthday.

“I’m gonna grab another drink.” He says lowly before walking away and leaving you there, alone.

“I think it’s time.”

You turn around to see Lillian stood in front of you once again, expressionless. You take a breath and frown as she slowly raises her arm and points to her left. Hesitantly, you look where she wants you to and you very nearly stop breathing.

She was pointing at you and another version of Lillian in the very same kitchen you had been six years ago. Through the window, you took in the dress you had worn, the way your eyes were already tiring. And you were trying to talk to her, only ever getting a shrug or a scowl.

You didn’t know how you got closer to the scene, but suddenly you were inside the building, stood just in the doorway and watching your life replay in front of your very eyes.

A tear drops down and you try to escape. But something keeps you frozen, unable to look anywhere but where Vecna was forcing you to see.

But it wasn’t as if you needed the reminder. You thought about this conversation all the time.

“I only came here because my parents forced me.” Lillian says, her back to you as she contemplated the snack table.

“Don’t say that.” You step forward, praying that she would face you. But she remained stubborn, never throwing a glance behind her.

“Just… go have fun with your boyfriend.” She says a little sourly and you shake your head.

“He’s not-”

“Bullshit.” She spits and she finally spins around to look at you. Your breath hitches once you see the hints of mascara that had ran down her face. Those tears were because of you. “You keep claiming that you and Billy are just friends but let’s be real, friends don’t act that way around eachother.”

“Look, Lil.” You risk another step and she avoided your eyes. “Billy and I just… we got confused. I-I think our feelings got mixed up and-”

“So break up with him.” She challenges and you catch your breath, staying silent.. “See? You act like you aren’t dating but look at you, Y/n. You came here with him! You guys have kissed and… god, I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Why do you care so much?” You gain some kind of confidence now, sick and tired of how your supposed ‘best friend’ was treating you. “Because you keep acting like me being with him is breaking some sort of trust between us. In all honesty, Lil, I was just fine with Billy being a close friend.”

“Then why?” She was crying now, eyes red with a smudged black outline.

“Why?” You look exasperated, a cold laugh leaving your lips. “You were the one who told me to go on a date with him!”

“Because I wanted-” She stops herself, swallowing whatever words she wanted to say. But you weren’t done with the conversation.

“Because what? Huh?” Your heart was beating faster and faster.

“I wanted you to say no.” Lillian whispers out and you stay in stunned silence. She shakes her head at you, anger finally taking a hold. “I don’t know why you keep acting like it’s a surprise. It’s like you just miraculously forgot everything that happened over the summer.”

Summer. Part of you had buried those memories long ago.

“I…” You search for the words to say, but you’re speechless. You didn’t expect it to go this far.

Lillian lets out a sad laugh. “Admit it, Y/n. Just say it out loud.”

You stay silent, avoiding her eyes as tears roll down.

“You. Like. Gir-”

“Stop!” You yell and she looks startled, wide eyes staring at you. “Whatever happened… between us… it was a mistake. I’m not- I don’t-”

You let out a frustrated sigh. If you were so sure of yourself, why was your heart breaking at your own words?

“One day, Y/n Mayfield,” She grabs her filled cup, walking to the exit but stopping by your side, eyes never meeting yours. “You are going to realise exactly who you are. You’ll… you’ll finally see the version of yourself that I see. That I love. And it’ll be too late.”

She walks away before you have a single second to understand what she meant.

“You lied to me.”

You sniffle the tears that had fallen, eyes tearing away from the sight of you stood alone in the kitchen and looking back to where Lillian waited for a reply.

Except, this time, it wasn’t Lillian at all.

“You lied to her, Y/n”

Vecna stared back at you with milky eyes, head arched down to meet your height. Your blood froze over as he shifts his red body towards you, slow and steady.

“She loved you” He growls and your heart shatters a million times more. “And you betrayed her”

“It was an accident.” You whisper out now and he shakes his head.

“You deserve to know the truth” Vecna was stood face to face with you now, arm slowly raising to hold his bony claws above your face. “Let me show you what you have forgotten”

Before a whimper could leave your mouth, you felt your head whip back, eyes slamming shut as you were somehow transported into your memories, back to that night.

Tears streamed down your face regardless, flutters of broken images burning your brain until you knew the truth. Until he showed you exactly what you did.

You should have never tried to help Nancy.

7th November 1979

“What do you want, Y/n?” Your best friend sounded fed up already, taking a sip from her cup.

“I just wanted to say sorry.” You said, eyeing her cup. She never drank.

“Well I don’t want an apology.” Her words were slurred and she spilt some of her cup.

“Woah, what are you drinking?”

“Whatever the hell I want.”

“Maybe you should slow down, you haven’t drank before.”

“Why? Because I’m a prude for not banging my abusive boyfriend when I’m only 14, huh?” Her words stung your heart, tears threatening to spill.

“What the fuck?” Your voice quivered and she just laughed.

“You act like it’s all about you, Y/n. Try caring about someone else for once in your miserable life.”

And with that she walked to the other side of the pool, stumbling along the way as you filled up your own cup and drank the feelings down like your life depended on it.

“Woah, there.” Billy laughs, stopping as you grab a third drink.

“I thought you wanted me to drink?” You snap and his eyebrows raise, hands held in surrender.

“I just wanted you to have fun, not… that.” He says and you take a deep breath.

“Right.” You grit your teeth, lowering the cup before letting out a much-needed sigh. “I’m good.”

“Hm.” He pulls a face, taking a sip from his own drink, “So this has nothing to do with why Lillian’s been giving me evil eyes the whole night?”

You whip your head up, following his gaze across the pool and, sure enough, Lillian stood there with a sour look on her face. Once she caught your eyes, she simply rolled her own and turned her back on you.

“Ooh.” Billy laughs, cup to his mouth, “That’s cold.”

You watch as she almost stumbles back into the pool, someone cheering beside her as she manages to balance herself.

“I’ll be right back.” You say, placing your cup down on the table before striding over to Lillian, heart thumping in your head with each step.

You felt strange. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the guilt you felt, but it was bubbling away inside of you.

When you finally reach her, she’s dipping her cup into the punch bowl and draining it within a matter of seconds. She barely registers you’re there until you finally speak.

“Lillian, please stop. You’ve had enough, okay?” You beg your best friend as she chugs down another drink. Even you had lost count of how many she’s had.

“Fuck off. You don’t own me.” She spat, scooping up more liquid from the punch bowl with her cup.

“I’m serious!” You grab at the drink pulling it away from her. She turned to you and practically growled.

“Why?! Why are you ruining my fun? Shouldn’t you be over there fucking your boyfriend or something?” She yelled and the party went quiet. The music still blared but the conversations surrounding you had halted.

“Lil-”

“No. No, you…” She stumbled as she took a step towards you and you managed to catch her before she pushed you away. “You are a fucking mess, Y/n Mayfield.”

“What are you talking about?” You raised your voice, annoyed at your best friend’s allegations.

“You can’t even decide.” She mumbled so that only you could hear. You understood what she was saying. The biggest decision in your life had come down to two things. And you weren’t ready to let either go.

Billy was your childhood sweetheart, and always will be. Even if everything had taken a wrong turn in your relationship, you knew he was just acting out because of his mom. He had stood by you through worse, and you weren’t going to let him down. You loved him.

But… you didn’t love him the way you thought you did. You knew what love felt like, you had experienced it for the first time this summer. You just weren’t ready to admit it. Especially since the one you fell for was currently yelling at you in the middle of a crowd.

“You are a fraud, Y/n Mayfield.” She shouted again, wobbling as she tried to stand as still as she could. “A. Fucking. Fraud.”

“Can we talk about this inside?” You ask, gently reaching out to grab her hand.

“No! No! No!” She practically screamed, catching anyone’s and everyone’s attention. “The people should know who you really are!”

“Lillian.” You warned, lowering the arm that still held the red solo cup. She caught sight of the drink, licking her lips.

“She’s been lying to you folks!” She span around sloppily, announcing her words to the gathering people. “The birthday girl has been harbouring…” She slurred her words, catching herself, “She’s been keeping a deep… dark… secret.”

“Don’t do this.” You glared at her. You’d never seen this side to her in your whole life. Your anger was clouding your judgement now, not seeing how justifiable her actions are.

“Then give me back my drink.” She tilted her head to you, moving closer and extending her arm.

“No.” You stayed stubborn, holding the cup behind you.

“Give it to me!”

She ran at you with both her arms outstretched, clawing at your shoulder to turn you. You screamed in response, struggling against her attack. In the chaos, Lillian’s fingers caught your hair, pulling as hard as she could. You dropped the cup from the sudden surge of pain to your head, trying to release yourself from her grasp. She only pulled harder. So you did the only thing you could.

You didn’t remember doing it.

You pushed her.

And she fell.

Straight into the pool.

Except, you didn’t push her

It was never an accident

In the chaos, Lillian’s fingers caught your hair, pulling as hard as she could. You dropped the cup from the sudden surge of pain to your head, trying to release yourself from her grasp. She only pulled harder.

Something raged inside of you, your focus blurring black. Every adoring thought you had of your best friend was ripped out of your brain, replaced only with the intent to stop her.

It had felt like you were possessed.

You barely noticed the blackening veins on the back of your hand as you reached to the table and grabbed a thick bottle of vodka.

Lillian’s drunken eyes went wide as you swung at her, her skull no match for the strength you surged forward with.

The bottle smashed into her head, breaking skin and bone, and all you saw was the red streaking out of her through your dark spotlight.

You felt nothing as her eyes fluttered shut, body dropping back and splashing into the pool, her head marking the side on the way down, painted with splatters of crimson death.

You felt nothing until that fury inside of you dissipated, your eyes returning to their natural state as your mind blurred all of the events before.

It took a few seconds for you to remember how you were here, to even recognise where you were.

You looked down, your drink now forgotten on the floor beside you. People were screaming, but no one moved.

You kept your focus on the figure in the pool now floating. The ceramic side to a once blue pool now covered in crimson red blood.

“What did you do?”

“Oh my god, Y/n!”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“Your power has only ever caused death”

You pant, knelt to the ground over the swimming pool, Lillian’s body now floating in the pool, everything turning red.

All this time, you had been believing a lie. You thought it was an accident. And you were wrong.

All those people, the town who never stopped harassing your family until you disappeared; you were a murderer.

You were a murderer.

And it was because of the black dust. Its possession had been too strong, and you had been too weak to fight it. It was all Vecna was ever trying to tell you, trying to get you to see. And he was right; you couldn’t handle the responsibility of the Mind Flayer.

“I can only end this for you if you submit” Vecna claims, stood above you and drawing your eyes away from the scarlet water.

“Why?” You finally say, tears rushing down and blurring your vision, “Why do you want this so much?”

“Ever since you arrived in Hawkins, I’ve felt the power you held” He finally explains and you slowly rise from the ground, standing with a numb feeling in your chest. “I just didn’t know how much of that power you had until you stopped the dust from possessing you”

The dust spilled from the doors, forming in the air above you. You tried to run as far as you could across the field in the sudden darkness. But you felt something pull at you, forcing you to stop.

You stood a few feet from the middle of the field, staring up at the dust as it circles you.

“Y/n”

You start to sob, covering your ears.

“It’s time”

Tears streamed down your face as a section of the dust pulled in front of you. It began creeping towards you, snaking up your leg and towards your mouth.

It pulled back for a moment, letting you see what was about to happen. The closer it got, the colder you felt. You couldn’t move. All you could do was scream.

Black dust hovered over your mouth and you scream at it one last time.

“No!”

It stopped.

You stare at it in confusion with tear stained cheeks. The dust unwrapped itself from you, returning to the shape in the air. You slowly started to feel control over your movement, wiggling your fingers one at a time. Why did it stop?

“Then why didn’t you just kill me?” You challenge, watching as he takes a step forward.

“I tried” He growls, tilting his head. “I sent everything I had to ensure you were taken out of the game”

You frown. All those years, all the visions, nightmares, voices.

“Don’t you see, Y/n?”

The Demogorgon appearing wherever you had been. The demodog that never attacked you.

“I could never stop you”

The Mind Flayer, one you defeated despite all odds. Billy.

“Until now”

Vecna was barely a breath away now, staring down at you with a cruel smirk on his face. You stare down at the bloodied vodka bottle in your hand.

“If I give up…” You begin, barely choking down tears, “You let my friends go unharmed.”

“I cannot promise their safety”

“You leave my sister alone!” You practically yell at him and he simply tilts his head.

“All I need is one more”

His cryptic words anger something inside of you and, to his surprise, you lash out at him.

You manage to make contact, hitting him with the bottle as hard as you can and, strangely enough, it hurts him.

Even in this mind world, he can still feel pain.

Before you can do anything else, his arm extends and you are thrown backwards, smashing through glass and landing on the ground with a heavy thump.

“Shit.” You breathe, trying to move but finding your whole body ached.

“Give up”

You manage to raise your head to see him staring down at you with milky white eyes, claws outstretched.

Staring up at him, the nightmare that had haunted your mind for four years of your life, any hope you had left for yourself was gone.

You were the reason your friends are in danger.

You did this.

Maybe, just maybe, this would need to be the end.

“Fine.” You whisper out and you swore you could see a smile creep onto his burned lips.

“You don’t need to suffer anymore”

Closed eyes, you feel yourself drifting away. Your soul, your life, was being pulled from you. And, as much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t care. If this was how it ended for you, you prayed the others would understand.

Y/N!!!

You open your eyes.

Blinking, you saw nothing but darkness around you, like standing in the middle of a void.

As you take a step forward, you hear a small pat beneath your foot and you noticed the ripple effect across the ground. Something like water.

When the confusion was beginning to set in, a voice echoes around you and your heart beats faster. But for once, it wasn’t out of fear.

“y/n… can... hear me?…”

You follow the direction of the voice, slowly coming into view of a blurred image. People.

Your body is stood in the middle of the room, light blaring down at you from the gate above your head. Unlike the others that have been cursed, your eyes aren’t rolled back. Instead, they are completely black, eyelids fluttering.

And, in front of you, was the boy you never stopped loving.

Eddie.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!!!” He yelled while fumbling with something in his hand.

You take a few steps closer, the object forming into a Walkman, one you had dropped way back after being dragged through the gate. Someone must have picked it up.

He’s desperately trying to put the headphones on you with shaky hands and you thought you never saw him look more scared.

It wasn’t the look of horror, not like how he reacted to Chrissy. This time, it was pure fear. Fear of loss.

And you were doing that to him.

“Where are you, Y/n?” Vecna’s voice boomed out and you spin around, a figure slowly forming out of dust not far from you. Red.

It was like this was one last test, one last chance to escape. And you had no idea if you should take it.

I hear the ticking of the clock...

You turn back, eyes wide as you see Eddie has successfully played the tape, his hands grasping onto yours. The song, the one you hadn’t heard in years.

I’m lying here, the room’s pitch dark...

Not since you lost it after… letting Eddie borrow your Walkman all those years ago.

Tears pooled in your eyes with gratitude that, after all this time, he kept it.

I wonder where you are tonight...

No answer on the telephone...

“Y/n” His deep voice is clear as day and when you glance back over your shoulder, milky white eyes stare back at you.

And the night goes by so very slow...

“Y/n, please!”

Oh, I hope that it won’t end, though...

“Stay here with me”

“Come back to me.”

...alone.

As you stare back at Eddie’s tear stained cheeks, his shaking hands, you make your decision.

And without so much as a second thought, you run.

I always fared well on my own...

I never really cared until I met you...

Out the corner of your eye, you see Vecna’s arm raise and you’re being pulled back, towards him, and away from Eddie.

And now it chills me to the bone...

You scream, fighting against his power with all your might.

How do I get you alone?...

You’re so close, reaching out to Eddie with a cry.

“This is what you deserve” Vecna growls, stepping towards you as you are held back, “Let this finally end”

You stop fighting, slumping your shoulders. Clearly content with this decision, his control falters slightly and you raise your head.

“I…” You start before a scowl creeps onto your face, “I couldn’t agree more.”

You throw your hand out, dust forming from your fingers and shooting towards his face. In defence, he brings his arm to shield his eyes and you take the opportunity to continue running, feet pounding against the wet floor.

You hear a yell of fury before your fingertips brush your paralysed body.

Then, everything flashes white.

Chapter 15: Four Chimes ->

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711 / @eddiesbirdie / @livasaurasrex / @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee / @chervbs / @eternallyvenus / @nervouscatsuit / @f1nn-wolfhard / @hereiamhereigo / @ladybug0095 / @fangirling-4-ever / @astrolockley / @mothmanatemycat / @sheisjoeschateau / @champagnejoker / @umidktbh / @fallinginlovewithqueue / @ilovetaylorswift132006 / @live-the-fangirl-life / @sadbitchfangirl / @cherrymedicine13 /

[captain-mommy-issues]

[Not really Pelipper Mail… Under-The-Tree Mail? That you’re pretty sure was put there by Clavell? Anyways! Once the tornado of four very excited children has rolled through and woken everyone in the house, Arven’s left with a good few things for himself!]

[Firstly, there’s a printed image of an upper-end cookware set! There’s Clavell’s handwriting on the bottom saying “We Delibird left it at the Academy, since your kitchen is there”. You don’t think Delibird know how to write.]

[There’s a few smaller wrapped boxes too! Each one contains a video game: Super Mario RPG, Super Mario Wonder, Super Mario 3D World… the last one seems to be the Wii U version? There’s a sticky note that says “We didn’t know which one :-)”.]

[Wrapped far more cleanly, it seems like Aunt Melony’s enclosed some new picnic blankets (one with the Dogs of Paldea on it, one with the Galar League’s symbols on it) and some custom silverware with dogs at their base. There’s also a hand-knitted scarf there in yellow and purple, with a “welcome to our family” note tucked in, written in clean cursive. Melony’s kids have copied the message below that, with varying levels of cleanliness. Gordie just left his autograph.]

[Finally, for Mabosstiff… there’s a load of home-baked dog biscuits from Aunt Melony, four squeaky Maushold plushies, and a big old squeaky sandwich-shaped chew toy. The sandwich toy’s wrapped in an appropriately-sized dog bandana, with some Herba Mystica printed on it.]

[Happy Delibird Day, Arven!!]

@swagtastic-bougie-pompadour

//I usually don't do this but I feel like this would be cuter if I wrote this one out as an in-person :)

Arven stared in complete awe at all the gifts. He picked up the photograph and laughed to himself, reading the handwriting. Dad, really...

"That actually looks awesome! Arc, don't make me wanna go home already. I'm so excited to use that."

He laughed again and shook his head, then began opening the other gifts. The boy had to do a double take on all the video games. SERIOUSLY? THREE?! That's like $180 right there! But in Pokedollars that I don't feel like converting right now!

"Fucking HELL. Why did you spend so much on me?! I- I thought I told you you didn't have too!" Arven immediately covered his mouth. Right. Children. Don't swear. Contain your 15-year-old edgy potty mouth, Arven.

"Flipping heck," he mumbled to himself awkwardly.

Arven just turned back to his presents, moving onto Melony's. He pulled out the baskets and silverware and examined them, smiling.

"Arc, these are adorable! Jeez, the dogs are so cute... I am gonna use these every day."

He picked up the scarf, taking a glance at the note that fell out of it. He grabbed it, and started tearing up. Just... Wow. Family. He had family. This is his family. Don't Cry, Arven. Don't Cry. Don't Cry. Arcdamnit he's crying. He turned his head down, avoiding eye-contact with everyone.

"T-hank you..." His voice was soft, and slightly shaky. However, he had a huge smile on his face, despite all the tears flowing rapidly down his cheeks. This entire trip has made him so emotional... This poor guy has never spent time with family like this...

His tears were then interrupted by a soft woof. He looked next to him where Mabosstiff was pawing at a present.

"Go ahead, Buddy."

The Pokémon excitedly ripped open the package, very happily wagging its tail at the sight of all the gifts. It excitedly spun around in a circle and barked surprisingly loudly. Arven chuckled, looking back at the others. He stood up and pulled Clavell into the biggest hug ever, burying his face into his shoulder. Most likely because he was still embarrassed about the whole crying bit...

"Thank you," he looked over at Melony. "You too, of course. I... I appreciate this. A lot..."

"Happy Delibird Day."

[jalapenobee]

IT’S DONE

You are my sunshine (rewrite)

Everywhere he looked, there was red.

It dripped from gold jewelry and table edges, shattered wine glasses and soaked gloves. Leaking out from his body was red. It caked his face and blurred his vision. The room pulsed and ached with pain, mirroring the scene inside it. The ball had been turned into a bloody massacre, the shining floor littered with limp bodies; a few on their last breaths, the rest already dead.

With a groan, Keith turned on his back and blinked. His mouth felt like metal, his ears were ringing, and he felt numb and dizzy from blood loss. The ceiling multiplied and shifted, exhausting his eyes. He’d be the one casualty of Voltron, assuming the others weren’t in his state. Seeing no point in taking off his helmet, Keith closed his eyes and listened in on the celebratory cheers from over comms for a “mission well done”. He kept his head turned towards the door, listening for footsteps that signaled an approach. Pathetic, really. Even if it was an enemy, there’s a zero percent chance he’d be able to defend himself. Keith sighed. He’d much rather be doing something, something important. But it was too late for that now. He was getting weaker every passing second, the grip on life loosening bit by bit.

Every blink he made closed his eyelids longer than the last. Every few breaths brought jagged, searing streams of blood dripping down his chin. He did not wipe it off, instead focusing on matching the voices from the comms to their owners as they started to call his name.

“Wait. Guys, where did Keith go?” Allura. 

“…Keith… where are you? Are you okay?” Hunk. 

“Keith, where are you? Say something!” Lance.

Keith took a long breath and managed to speak in a cracking, broken voice. 

“Second ballroom. Don’t bother coming.”

Despite that, Lance insisted he’d come to get him and started to bolt for Keith’s location. The latter didn’t object; partly because he didn’t have the energy, and partly because his pleas would be useless. Lance was always claiming he’d do anything to keep Keith alive, as well as being there as he dies. Apparently, nothing’s going to stop him.

Half a minute later, Lance came running through the broken door with his bayard drawn, aiming it around the room in a frantic mess until he spotted Keith. Careful to avoid the pools of blood and dead weight, he hurried over and pulled off both of their cracked helmets. A careful hand slipped behind Keith’s back, raising him up slightly to Lance’s face.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, I promise.”

“No matter.”

Lance shook his head and tears were sent splattering down on Keith’s armor, blending with the blood and seeping into the cracks in the metal. The other’s voices were left unheard, as Lance desperately prayed to a god, any god, that Keith would make it. That the blood would stop gushing, oh jeez, please make the blood stop gushing. He cradled a tired Keith in his tired arms. “Please, you’re going to be okay.”

Keith turned his head to face Lance properly, his body lurching with coughs that brought more blood to the scene. Keith ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, tasting copper and salt. His throat felt right and his lips burned with pain with every word. He swallowed, and began to sing a delicate, slurred version of a nursery rhyme he’s sung more than a few times to calm Lance. 

“You are my sunshine…”

Lance’s teary, shaking voice chimed in, as he pressed his forehead to Keith’s. “My only sunshine…”

“You make me happy…” 

“When skies are gray…” For a moment, they were perfect - voices singing together, a melody all too familiar to them both. Then more coughs brought more blood; flown towards Lance’s face, and spat on the floor, armor, hands. A terrified Lance stroked Keith’s hair, smeared and tangled in debris, telling him to save his breath, yet Keith kept going. 

“You’ll never know, dear…” his hand fell limp against Lance’s. “How much… I love you.”

His eyes fluttered closed for the last time, and Lance was the only one left to finish singing while Keith managed a small smile and a sigh.

“Please don’t take… my sunshine away.”

[e-dubbc11]

Dance with Me

Pairing:  Matt Murdock X GN! Reader

Warnings:  None really….I don’t think.  Reader has a bit of anxiety.  There are a few tears but just Matt being sweet as can be and comforting.

Word Count: 1554-ish

Summary:  Reader decides to cook dinner for Matt and it doesn’t go exactly how they planned.  What may not be a big deal to others, is a big deal for them and Matt understands this so he does what he can to comfort you and make you feel better about….everything.

A/N:  Well, when I started this one I had a different song in mind to use for inspiration, “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran BUT as I was writing it and the further I got into it, I realized that while “Perfect” is a great song, I wasn’t feeling it, I thought this whole idea was stupid and I almost scrapped the whole thing because it wasn’t coming together like I wanted.  So I decided to use “Everything (Live In-Studio Version)” by Lifehouse.  It completely changed for me after I decided to use that song.  

And if I may digress for a minute, I’ve seen Lifehouse a handful of times live and in all the times I’ve seen them, they never played this song live. I think it was one of the last times I saw them, their encore song was “Everything” and can I tell you how excited I was, it is my favorite song by them.  Then came the part of the song where the tempo starts to pick up, it’s probably the bridge of the song and I just started to cry, not full on ugly girl crying, but crying.  That song is just IT for me, it hits me deep and I love it so much.  I was just so happy they finally played my favorite song live, while I was there to see it. I don’t think I’ve ever told that story before, not even my friends I was with at the show know about it.  So if you’ve never heard it or need a refresher, give it a listen and my full playlist of slow dance songs for Matt should be up soon.  I hope you like it and this.  Jeez Louise, talk about rambling…shut it, Ericca!!  As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments are always welcome.

It was just a Tuesday, not a special occasion, not his birthday, just Tuesday.  You thought cooking dinner for Matt sounded like a nice thing to do, as he had been working very hard lately and you thought this would be a nice surprise.  However, you were not known for your culinary skills, baking was a different story, that came easy to you but you felt you weren’t the best cook.  Mostly it was because you were a perfectionist and everything had to be just so or you were not going to be happy.  You had planned it all out though, everything from the wine down to the dessert, what could go wrong?  It turns out plenty could go wrong, and it did. 

It was a bunch of little things that would definitely not be a big deal to most people, but you weren’t most people. The plan was to leave work early, however the paperwork on your desk needed to be finished so you were late leaving, and also the grocery store you usually go to didn’t have everything you needed so you had to go to a few places which ate up more time.  

Tomato sauce from scratch also takes more time than you thought it would, which leads you to rush and that caused you to slice open your knuckles on the cheese grater.  The chicken sausage you wanted, the store ran out of so you had to get regular.  It’s not necessarily a bad thing but again, you didn’t plan for that so it elevated your stress levels. That’s just how your brain worked, it’s difficult to get out of your own head sometimes and you wanted everything to be….perfect.  

The dish you were making was simple enough but very tasty, crumbled sweet Italian sausage, in a light tomato cream sauce over spaghetti with a Caesar side salad and garlic bread. Checking your watch, you realized Matt would be home soon, however the sauce still needed more time to simmer.

Even the fruit tart you had planned to make, again it should have been easy for you, but the crust was baked you thought, just a little too long.   And you forgot that it takes 2-3 hours for the pastry cream to chill, you didn’t have that kind of time or a blast chiller!  This is a disaster, nothing is ready, and you start to panic.  

You weren’t happy about it but you start thinking about abandoning the idea of dessert because it wasn’t going to be ready in time. This was very frustrating because you had the fruit cut up and in the fridge already, even the pineapple was cut into little stars.  The picture you had of it in your head was so pretty but than plan went right out the window when you saw what time it was.

It was 6:15, you knew Matt would be home in give or take fifteen minutes.  Aside from tart, you sucked it up and pulled the rest of it together when you hear the keys in the door.  Matt opens the door, puts all his things away and says “Something smells good in here.  Are you alright, sweetheart, I can smell blood too…did you cut yourself?”

Damn that man and his bloodhound nose!  You had forgotten about the cuts on your knuckles, it’s such a stupid injury and you felt like a complete idiot for letting that happen but you tried to control your anxiety anyway as you answered him.

“Um, yeah I got a couple of cuts on my knuckles, no big deal.  How was your day today?”

Matt came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and kissed that sweet spot on the side of your neck.  His response was, “Well I missed you, so it was terrible.”

“Oh really?” You tried to sound like you weren’t in panic mode.

Of course he could tell something was wrong.

“What’s wrong, my love? Your pulse is all over the place.”  

Obviously, you knew you couldn’t lie to him, he would know so you threw up your hands in frustration, turned around to face him, and just told him everything.

“Matty, I wanted to do something nice for you so I planned it all out, I was going to leave work early and get back here in plenty of time to make a nice dinner for you.”

The look on his face was soft and he looked so touched that you would do something like this for him.

 “But I got held up at work, the grocery store didn’t have everything I needed so I had to go to a couple other places to find everything, and the dessert I wanted to make you, I forgot that the pastry cream needs 3 hours to chill in the fridge before I could put everything together…”

Your voice started to crack because all that anxiety came back.

“And I just—“ You took a minute to breathe.  When you regained your composure, you let out a big exhale and asked him “Do you want a glass of wine because I sure do.”  You started to smile only to realize in the middle of running around all afternoon, you forgot to pick up the wine at the package store.  That was the last straw, you burst into tears, and slumped over the counter with your head in your hands.  “Oh no!  I forgot to get the wine!!!!”  Matt knew how important getting this all right was to you, he loosened his tie a little and rolled up his sleeves.

“Oh angel, please don’t cry.  This is all so nice, you doing all this for me.  It smells delicious and I’m sure it’s going to taste even better.  Plus we have beer and whiskey, I don’t need fancy wine…you know that.”

He turned you around gently to face him and brushed the tears away with his thumbs.

“Look, I know it’s not exactly how you wanted everything to turn out but do you understand how incredible you are for doing this?  Before you, no one has even attempted to cook dinner all for me.”  

He could tell you needed more convincing and with his signature smirk, you could see Matt had an idea.

“Here…take this apron off and just stand right here for a second, don’t move.”

As you brush the tears from your cheeks, he walks to the bedroom and comes back holding your Bluetooth speaker, places it on the counter and disappears to the bedroom one more time.  You’re standing there confused when you hear music start to play and recognize the song…”Everything” by Lifehouse.  

You are the strength, That keeps me walking. You are the hope, That keeps me trusting. You are the light, To my soul. You are my purpose, You're everything.

He didn’t want you to hear him when he spoke into the phone to play the song, so that’s why he went back to the bedroom. Matt knows music hits you differently than some people, you feel it in your soul and at times have emotional reactions to it.  He had a strong feeling this song would help you calm down…

He came back to the kitchen, and with his hand outstretched he asked:

“Dance with me?”  

Your reaction was genuine surprise “What? Dance with you? Now?”

“C’mere…it will help you relax.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you gently placed your hand in his and rested your head on his chest as you two swayed back and forth to the music.  Why does he always know what to do to make you feel better?  The chorus comes on…  

How can I stand here with you, And not be moved by you? Would you tell me, How could it be, Any better than this?

As the two of you continued to slow dance in the kitchen, he said:

“My love, tonight may not have been to your standards but believe me, I couldn’t have asked for anything more thoughtful.”

You were feeling a little better but still disappointed in yourself.

“Matty, my planning was all off and I just wanted it to be really nice for you.”

“It is, sweetheart…it is.  Put your hand on my heart.”

You lay your palm flat against Matt’s chest.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, all of this is absolutely wonderful…YOU are wonderful. I couldn’t love anything more.”

Of course his heartbeat never faltered, he’d never lie to you.  The song continues…

You're all I want, You're all I need, You're everything, everything.

“And listen, I know you have everything prepared for the fruit tart because I can smell all of it so tomorrow, I’ll help you put it together and we can have it then.  How’s that sound?”

You had tears in your eyes but they were because no other man had gone to the lengths that Matt did to help you deal with your anxiety.  You knew he couldn’t fix everything but it doesn’t mean he didn’t try and that’s just one of the reasons why you loved him so much. He tilted your chin up and pressed his lips softly to yours.

And how can I stand here with you, And not be moved by you Would you tell me, How could it be, Any better than this?

Would you tell me, How could it be, Any better than this...

You’re everything…

As the end of the song plays, with your hand still on his heart, you say “Matty, that sounds…perfect.”

Tag list: @freshabogados @skvatnavle @phoebe-danvers @moonlarking @shedaresthedevil @mindidjarin @matt-erialgirl @nelson-et-murdock @elgrandeavocados

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[juniorgman187]

Spoiled Rotten (Reid Fic)

Summary: After Spencer went radio silent on Reader while he was in prison, their pride and stubbornness threatens to tear them apart forever. Reader’s forced to mourn the death of who they were and experience the inner turmoil of navigating who they are.

A/N: Y’all are gonna kill me for the ending, but it’s one hell of a way to go.  Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Angst Content Warning: Imprisonment, humiliation, abandonment, anger, frustration, angst, yelling, fighting Word Count: 5.3k Playlist: Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo

Time jumps are indicated by “. . .” or “_ _ _”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

A rather unfortunate predicament we’ve found ourselves in tonight. I can’t say I’ve ever been quite this uncomfortable in my life, yet I’m careful not to speak too soon. Because I know the second Spencer opens his mouth to break the silence we’re currently sitting in, I’ll stand corrected. 

“You’re breathing really hard,” He tells me out of nowhere. 

See, I stand corrected. 

Now that I’ve become hyper aware of my own inhale and exhale, my respiration is just that much more restricted. I’m practically holding my breath at this moment - both from the anticipation of catching this unsub in the act and giving Spencer one less thing to scrutinize about me. 

“I didn’t say you had to stop breathing,” He tacks on as if it would put me any more at ease. Not that if he had explicitly said such a thing, I would’ve. 

Unlike other people, I wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to throw myself at his feet so he’d like me. But to use that as grounds for his disdain would be foolish. Our rancor went deeper than the basic lack of synergy between us. 

And in the spirit of getting to the bottom of that abyssal pit, I finally asked the question with words that always seemed to hang above but never would form. 

“Why was I the only one denied visitation while you were in prison?” 

It may surprise you to know that it wasn’t always like this between us; we were actually close once, although it is hard to imagine that version of us ever really existing. However, if I think about it hard enough, I can remember with perfect clarity who we used to be. 

. . .

“Jeez, you really don’t like these things do you?” I nudged him playfully before feeling instantly guilty once I witnessed the result of my shove that must’ve been a little too much for all 120 (at most) pounds of him. I’d neglected to remember the strength I held over the lanky Doctor as well as neglected to notice where the trajectory of my push would land him - in the direct line of a circus clown walking the opposite direction as us. This, of course, brought him face to face with the character. Unfortunately, I managed to catch a glimpse of the lens of Spencer’s glasses grazing the white face paint of the caricature. 

After a shudder of mortification and a very brave shriek, Spencer ran to my other side to be as far away from the clown as possible and apparently, as close to me as possible. From a distance, you’d think we were conjoined simply by the way he was glued to me - shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. 

While removing his glasses to clean them off with the hem of his blazer, he answered, “Carnivals? I mean, what’s not to like? What with the loud noises, the heart-attack-inducing food that’s more grease than actual food, or the sheer amount of bacteria harboring on each and every handle, hoop, ball, or button of these ridiculous game booths.” 

“Wow, you really don’t like carnivals.” I should’ve figured. 

“Nope. Never have and probably never will.” 

As someone who looked forward to the fair every summer of her childhood, any aversion to carnivals broke my heart. I had a fondness for them borne in adolescence that I couldn’t quite justify now in my adulthood. 

“But they’re fun!” was the best argument I could muster. The whine in my voice being provoked by the possibility that the higher the shrill of my pitch, the easier he’d be to sway. Turns out, Dr. Reid was not nearly as susceptible to my auditory persuasion as I might’ve thought he was. Just a stone cold, inconvincible slab of steel. 

“I’m sorry. I know you brought me here because you love these things, but I just can’t get past the ...” He surveyed the fair, ostensibly against his will, in search of the perfect word to describe our surroundings. “Filth.”

I would’ve argued in the defense of the carnival, mentioning how it’s endearing that the only bathrooms for miles were porta potties, and that the screaming, crying, sticky children galore just added to the attraction, and that there was a hidden charm to the way the roller coasters creaked beyond their means with every ride. 

But to an extent, I agreed. It was rather filthy, and I wasn’t much of a germaphobe myself so to someone like him, this would be hell on earth. 

“Well, you get what you put into it. If you’re willing to overlook some minor imperfections, I really think you’d enjoy this place.” 

Spencer by now had his hands in his pockets and his walking pace had slowed to a complete halt. There was a moment of skepticism, followed by a partially open smile to make way for the laughter that escaped from the disbelief that he felt for letting me break his resolve so easily. 

“Alright then. What do you want to do first, Brat?” 

The nickname I’d earned could be seen as meanspirited, but truly, it was affectionately diminutive. Like all good nicknames are. And like the proclaimed Brat I was, I’d taken him to all my favorite parts of the fair. 

First came the bumper cars to ease him into the experience - as ironic as that sounds. He was reluctant to submerge his gangly body into a mini vehicle, much less one that’d been inhabited by God knows how many people before us, but he pushed his reservations aside when he realized he’d get to slam into my car (safely, of course). 

Secondly, we went on the Carousel, but this was only in preparation for the real ride that I wanted to take him on next - the Swinging Chairs. He’d gotten a little nauseous, from both the repetitive circling and the galvanized chains he had to hold that were definitely held by several others. 

He had no interest in going on the Gravitron - super lame, I know - so we opted for the Ferris Wheel instead. I didn’t mind making this compromise so much after recognizing all that he’d done for my benefit that night. And for his generosity and selflessness, I thought it only fitting to end the night going somewhere so tame he couldn’t possibly have any opposition to it.

The photo booth.

The booth in particular we’d gone to was smaller than an airplane bathroom, if you can imagine that. The bench seat was barely wide enough to fit Spencer, let alone seat the both of us. While he didn’t explicitly make the offer to let me sit on his lap, it was kind of a give in that I’d have some part of my body intertwined around him like stubborn ivy. 

. . .

I still laugh thinking about the tangled mess of limbs we were below what the camera couldn’t capture. It was arguably the furthest extent of contortionist work I wanted to do in my lifetime, and henceforth exceedingly uncomfortable, and yet, I’d never felt more at home than when I was in his arms. 

That night he would tear off the top three photos to keep for himself while I kept the bottom three photos. 

To this day, I have never seen the pictures that he kept, and I’m left to wonder if he had them at all.

Because I still have mine. And they were virtually the only thing keeping me sane throughout his trial and subsequent imprisonment. 

Six Months Ago ...

My eyes were locked on the loose thread of my cardigan that I was rolling between my fingers anxiously. 

“Would you stop that?” Penelope swatted my hand away from my sweater. “You’re making me nervous just looking at you.” She grumbled. 

“Sorry,” I apologized bleakly.

A few seconds later she groaned again, making me think I was still doing something bothersome, but it turned out to be just the opposite. “Ugh, I know that sounded mean, and I hate when I sound mean, but I can feel my forehead creasing from the stress, and watching you fidget is going to give me an ulcer.”

“I wish I could help it. I’m just really worried about him.”

“Well I am, too, but that’s not gonna do us any good right now. All we can do is hope for the best.”

Sometimes Penelope’s overly optimistic view on life was futile and unwelcome, and truthfully, this was one of those times. 

“Penny?” 

As she turned her head, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the lenses of her dark green glasses. I could see my own mournful expression as I asked, “What if he’s found guilty?” 

She started to say something but stopped herself. “Right now, all we need to focus on is his bail. We can worry about a verdict later.” She put her hand on top of mine and shook it briefly to remind me that we were in this together. 

Moments later recess was over and the team came trudging back into the courtroom. 

The sound of the judge clearing her throat and our footsteps on the floor made this feel all too normal. 

How could Spencer’s life be hanging in the balance in such a place as non-intimate as this? 

It frustrated me how casual things felt today and how everyone was acting normally. Prentiss had yet to bat an eye, Rossi’s stoic expression never changed, and Penelope was telling me not to worry. Everyone was acting so aloof. 

My eyes darted to Spencer, who was looking back at us woefully. I couldn’t bear to see him like that any longer, so I kept my head down and stared at my feet after I took my seat. 

Even when I closed my eyes, I was haunted by the vision of him in a suit, just like one he’d wear to work. But instead, he was wearing it for this - this vastly different situation. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at him the same in one anymore. I’ll probably just remember this particular look on his face, in this god awful courtroom, during this horribly nauseating circumstance. 

If one thing was for certain, it was that this would all come back to me if I ever laid eyes on him in a suit, and that thought fucking terrified me. 

Because that one thought spiraled into the next: Everything was bound to change after this. Every little thing would change in every little way. 

Spencer’s lawyer, the judge, and the prosecutor were going back and forth for a while, but I tuned it all out because I knew if I had tuned in, I wouldn’t have been able to hold back my arguments. Eventually, though, I heard something I could no longer ignore. 

“If past behavior is the best indicator of future conduct, and I do believe it is, then your client presents a flight risk.”

I stood up immediately, getting a head rush from the speed. I knew what was to follow, so I needed to be on my feet the second I heard it. Maybe so I could run and escape before I had to.

“Bail is denied. The defendant will remain in federal custody pending trial.” 

“Spencer!” I shouted, losing all the composure I’d been trying to maintain. I reached for him as if he was at any capacity to reach back and hold me. God, I needed him to hold me. Hold me like how he did at the carnival. 

Hold me.

Luke held me back as I fought to be near him.

“Let me go!” I screamed, trying to break free of his tight grip. Spencer could only stand and stare, mirroring my own wistful glance. He mouthed something to me that I couldn’t quite make out, but if I knew him at all, he probably said something about not wanting me to worry about him. 

“(Y/n), (y/n) it’s gonna be alright.” JJ reasoned, pulling me into a hug. 

“How long before this case goes to trial?” I heard Prentiss whisper to Spencer’s lawyer. 

“It’s a complicated case. I’d say three months maybe?” 

Immediately, I worked myself out of JJ’s arms and pushed my way through the team, running up to the barrier between us.

“Spence!” I cried out in anguish. 

To the sound of my voice, he glanced over his shoulder sadly. He wasn’t even shocked I’d been able to get so close to him - he seemed to expect it, and for that, he was sad. Because he knew if I was going to be as stubborn as to fight to get to him at this hearing, then I was going to be stubborn enough to reach him in prison, too. And should he find himself behind bars, he knew that I’d get to him one way or another. 

That is if he’d let me. 

“Be strong,” He weakly smiled. ‘For me’ his sad eyes begged in addition. He held my gaze for as long as he possibly could before disappearing into another room. 

As I watched him walk away, I could feel my heart shattering and crumbling into the pit of my stomach. Perhaps that was a premonition, a true gut feeling, telling me something I at the time couldn’t have known and wouldn’t have accepted. 

That was the last time I would see Spencer. 

People always say when something unbelievable happens, it doesn’t feel real, but this? Nothing felt more real and more intense than this. 

There was no other way for me to see this situation but as the first defeat in an endless line of them.

If Spencer was denied bail, what else could happen to him? Could he be found guilty too? Because prior to this, the denial of his bail seemed impossible. He posed no flight risk, but according to the judge, he did. So if what I once thought to be impossible happened, then it could and would happen again.

I knew Spencer was going to be found guilty.

What I didn’t know, though, was how I was going to live with myself from then on.

I didn’t go that day. 

I knew myself too well. So did the others, which is why they didn’t object to my decision not to come to Spencer’s trial. They knew I was better off staying home. Especially, if there was the chance that I might react hysterically again.

I didn’t stay home, though. That part the team never found out about. 

I went to visit Diana instead. A much wiser choice, in my opinion. 

“You know, we’ve been talking so much about Spencer today, but we haven’t talked about you yet,” said Diana. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” I feigned a polite smile. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” She tilted her chin downward and gave me that sly grin of hers. 

“No, no, of course not. I know better than to underestimate the Diana Reid.” I quipped, making her smile widen. “I just figured you’d wanna spend your time talking about someone much more interesting.” 

“Oh please, Spencer and I talk about you all the time.”

I perked up from the checker piece I was fiddling with. “You do?”

“Mhm,” She nodded over and over again. “I always knew there was something between you two because you could always talk about each other to me, but for some reason, you could never actually talk to each other.”

For the first time in months, I genuinely laughed and I couldn’t help it. “He makes me nervous! I always feel like he might correct something I say, or tell me that there’s food in my teeth.” 

“You know, now that you mention it, I do remember him saying something about seeing a really big piece of lettuce in your teeth one time.” 

“Diana!” I squealed, pushing the checkerboard at her, pretending to take offense. 

“I really don’t know what you’re so nervous about! I think it would be good if you just talked to him.” 

“It’s, um, it’s not that simple. Not right now, at least.” 

My energy quickly nose-dived and I tried to do my best to hide it from Diana, but it permeated through the rest of the visit. I couldn’t fully enjoy myself after it. 

The team and I all agreed not to let Diana know, especially not with the uncertainty of the case. There was no point riling her up if there was nothing to be worried about. And I could only imagine how I reacted - Diana would be reacting 10 times more hysterically. 

But as much as I hated to say it, I almost would’ve rather been in her position. 

I would give anything to un-know Spencer’s circumstance.

Present Time ...

In this car, there was nowhere for him to run or hide, not like before.

Anytime I so much as entered his gravity by being in the same room, he’d flee the space in the next breath. Granted, he couldn’t really avoid me entirely. We did have to be on the same flight for an extended period of time, but he made that work by letting me choose my spot first, then choosing a spot directly on the opposite side of the jet. 

What a gentleman, huh?

“Kudos to you, by the way. For managing to avoid me for this long. I imagine it’s been as not-easy as it has been incredibly-cowardly.” My words stung as they flowed from my lips as badly as I imagine they seared his already cracked skin. I couldn’t believe that now that I finally had the opportunity to talk to him, I was using it to be petty and passively aggressive. But then again, I could. 

Because after what he put me through, he deserved to feel the full severity of my indignation.

My only wish was that he knew exactly how I had felt when I found out. 

. . .

Icarus. 

He died tragically while using artificial wings, invented by his father, to escape from the Labyrinth. When Icarus flew too close to the sun, it melted the wax that held the wings together, and he fell into the sea.

‘Don’t fly too close to the sun.’ That’s the moral of the story. That’s what Reid was trying to tell me. But I didn’t listen. 

I flew too close. 

I had approached the window with more zeal than this predicament warranted. 

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here to see Spencer Reid, R-E-I-D,” I eagerly spelt his last name with ease as though it were my own last name. 

She’d flipped back and forth between pages, running her index finger up and down the sheet for far too long that it made me worry. Turns out, I had every right to be worried. 

“I don’t see you on the list, ma’am.” 

I was so mindnumbingly dumb that I couldn’t even see how dumb I was being. “Oh no no no, I’m with the FBI. I called earlier and left a message, remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember you,” She smiled politely, giving me the tiniest fragment of hope. “But you’re not on his list.” Only for it to be shattered in an instant. 

I had yet to process or accept this information. “So what does that mean?”

“It means he doesn't wanna see you right now. And frankly, neither do I. Next!” 

“Wait, could you just please check with him? My name is (y/n) -” 

“Ma’am, you are holding up a whole line of people that wanna see their loved ones too, so I suggest you see yourself out before I call security to help see you out.” 

I knew by her tone of the word ‘help’ that meant a prison guard would most likely forcibly remove me from the premises, and the last thing I needed was to feel even more humiliated. 

I got plenty of that when I had to come back to the BAU. 

“You’re not on the list?” Luke seemed genuinely shocked. More so than I was. Above all, I just felt really stupid. 

“I’m sure it was just a mistake.” Stephen reasoned. He was so good at being level-headed. Which normally, I would’ve loved. But right now, it only fueled the fire burning in my chest.

“That’s what I thought at first, too. But later on, she asked him herself, and he said - and I quote, ‘I don’t want to see her. Not now. Not ever.’”

. . .

Those were the words that seared my skin, and he hadn’t even spoken them directly to me to do it. 

The words that did just enough to heal me back to health were, of course, Penelope’s.

“Since you haven’t seen him yet, the rest of us will just wait until you have. It’s only fair that you have your first turn before the rest of us go back for a second time.” 

Back then, it was easy to hold out hope, but the more and more time passed, the more he kept denying my visits. Therefore, the more my hope began to fade. 

It had been weeks since anyone else had seen him before I finally surrendered. Although I had newly-brewing sourness towards Reid, it didn’t feel fair to deny him everyone else’s presence until mine was permitted. 

Luke was the one who volunteered to visit first. And to my dismay, Spencer didn’t fight against it. 

The proof was finally there. Now I could say with absolute certainty: Spencer just didn’t want to see me. 

It was both ironic and utterly frustrating to think about how I’d never gone more than two weeks without seeing him. Even when the BAU got time off after big cases, we’d always spend that time together. The longest we’d spent apart was 12 days. And right when he came back to D.C, we were attached at the hip for the next week, trying to compensate for all that time we were apart. 

Now, look at us. I haven’t said one word to him in half a year. 

If tragedy and comedy could coexist, this would be it. 

“How is he?” I asked Luke as soon as he got back. 

“He’s holding on,” Luke affirmed with confidence. What he said next lacked any of that. “He told me to tell you not to worry about him.” 

Something in me knew it was a lie. “Did he actually say that?”

His lack of an answer was one itself. 

“Did he say anything at all about me?”

“I tried telling him how much you wanted to see him, but he just brushed it off. I’m sorry, (y/n).” 

This became my routine for the months to follow. Every time someone would come back from the prison, I’d ask them if they talked about me, but the answer was always no. After a while, it had gotten to the point where I purposefully started leaving myself out of the loop. At least in that case, it was by my own volition that I was being excluded, not by a predicament being forced on me. 

Not by Spencer. 

“We’re not doing this right now,” Spencer declaration brought me back to the present, where I found him removing himself from both the conversation and the vehicle. When I heard the latch click to open, my hand reflexively flew to my auto-lock to prevent him from leaving. Naturally, he still managed to escape using his door’s button.

If I couldn’t stop him, then I could follow him. 

“Then when will we do this? Huh, Spencer? When? Because anytime I try to talk to you, you run away.” The mere fact that I was speed-walking after him was proof. While he casually strolled down the sidewalk paying me no mind, I tried to be clever and walk down the street so we’d be somewhat side to side. I was tired of staring at his back every time he walked away. I needed to see his face.

For his every stride, I had to take at least three steps. He was gliding through the world so effortlessly as I was trekking my uphill battle. It was quite fitting, though. Further exemplification that, between us, I was fighting harder to preserve the people we used to be, the relationship we used to have. Meanwhile, he couldn’t care less. A stone cold, inconvincible slab of steel. Just like he always was. 

As I began to speak, I had to also be conscious of the parked cars along the curb, being careful to weave in and out. 

“For months, you have blatantly ignored me. The entire time you were in prison, you denied my visits. And it’s not like it was a one time thing. I tried to visit you over 100 times while you were in jail! 100 times I got rejected. 100 times I got turned away. 100 times my heart shattered.” 

By now, I was speaking so loudly that I could see household lights within neighboring homes turning on. I hadn’t even realized how far we’d walked down the street and away from our car, but it was the last thing on my mind. 

“Then after you were released, it’s like I never even existed. I had to find out that you were out of there a week later than everyone else because they all assumed you came to me yourself to tell me the good news,” I laughed wryly at my own stupidity. “Do you know how hard it was for me?” 

“Do you know how hard it was for me?” 

It took me a second to register that he was actually engaging with me in this conversation now. But when I looked at his expression, I could see that something within him had snapped. A little piece of me was glad, though. Now I knew for sure that there was some effect I had on him. 

“Hard for you?”

“I know you came to visit me 100 times! Want to know how I know? Because I was there, too! I was there every time a guard came to ask if I wanted to see you. I was there every time I turned you away. And while you got to walk out of those doors every time I did, I was stuck in there, rotting in that cell, thinking about how badly I wanted to see you. How badly I wanted to touch ...” His voice faltered. “To touch you. But I had to protect you!” 

“You do realize in protecting me, you were hurting me in the process.” 

“Because you just don’t know when to leave well enough alone!” His hands tugged at the root of his unruly hair like evidence of the frustration that my stubbornness caused. “You’re such a pain in the ass because you can never cooperate! It’s gotta be your way or no one else’s! ‘Spencer, it has to be this way because I said so. Spencer, you have to let me see you because I said so. Spencer, you have to talk to me because I said so. Spencer, you have to ride this stupid roller coaster because I said so,’” His imitation of my nagging voice would’ve made me laugh before. Now, it was bringing me onto the verge of tears. “Since clearly no one’s told you this before - not everything is about you! You just want it to be because you’re a whiny, little brat! You’re so spoiled rotten that you can’t even see how far down it goes. If you did, you’d know that you’re rotten to the core and that nothing will ever satisfy you. Especially me.”

His words had done more than sear me. They pierced me. They ripped me. They destroyed me. When he called me Brat, I thought it was endearing. Now, looking back, I realize - no, that’s just how little he thought of me. 

As I came to the conclusion, I stopped dead in my tracks on the pavement. 

I was done chasing Spencer.

His face had fallen from its anger, indicating he was apologetic, but I was beyond accepting his sorry excuses anymore. I couldn’t stand to look at him so I looked behind me to find our car at least a football field away. I guess in many ways, I’d gone the whole nine yards. 

“This is what you wanted right?” I turned back to him momentarily. My voice scared me how calm it was because, inside, I was boiling with rage. “Well, here you go, Spence. Have all the fucking space you want.” 

It was usually me watching his back while he walked away, and now, he was watching mine. 

“(Y/n), wait!” 

And for the briefest second, it actually felt good to be the first one to leave. 

I was free. 

_ _ _

To my dismay and relief, when I walked into work the next morning, he wasn’t there. I would’ve looked for him with more than a cursory glance except I was stuck on looking at something strange in the bullpen that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But as I walked further in, a blaring siren went off in my head. 

Spencer’s desk is completely empty. 

I instantly sorted through my purse for my phone to reach Prentiss when I noticed something more. 

I had been desperate to cling onto any notion that he still loved me, and there it was, just sitting on his desk. Proof that the man I loved was still in there somewhere.

The top three pictures from the carnival photo booth.

I laughed, as I always did, thinking about how much we had to exert ourselves to be positioned in a semi-adequate way. In the next wave, I felt profoundly empty. He had kept the pictures all these years, and now that I finally get to see them, he’s left me.

As I brought my hand to my face to clear the tears pooling at my lower lashes, I saw that my finger had an ink smear on the pad of it. There was nowhere else I could’ve obtained it except for if there was writing on the back of the photos. 

What I read when I turned it over was as follows. 

I want to be this guy for you again, (y/n). I just don’t know how. 

I just don’t know if I can.

No matter how much I’ve changed, one thing’s still the same.

I love you. 

I should’ve focused on the message, but all that I could focus on was that if I managed to smear the ink, that meant it was fresh, written just now. 

He was still here. 

I pocketed the photos and abandoned my purse, only carrying with me the phone that I forgot to use to dial Prentiss. After a moment’s indecision, I figured that taking the stairs would be faster than the elevator, and I bounded down the steps without hesitation. 

“Spencer!” I yelled into the parking structure when I reached the ground floor. The sound of me bursting through the door caught the attention of Anderson, who was getting out of his car. 

“I just saw him leave.” Anderson threw his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the exit. I knew, even in my state of mind, there was no feasible reality where I could reach him on foot. I had to call him. 

I pleaded to myself for him to pick up with every ring of my phone. 

“(Y/n),” He said like a statement instead of a question. Again, he’d anticipated I’d do this. He probably picked it up not even having to look at the caller ID but knowing it was me and no one else. 

“I don’t need you to be the guy you were before, Spencer. I just need you to bend a little bit. I know we’re both stubborn people, but if we can just find a halfway point-”

“(Y/n), (y/n),” He was settling me and the sentences that were coming out of my mouth at 100 mph. 

“I’ll bend if you bend.” I promised. 

The static of the call filled my ears until his voice finally did.

“For everyone else, I bend ... for you, I break.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

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[archived-kin]

solomon deserves a husband so i'm giving him one (it's you)

note from kin: i don’t know HOW i’ve managed to get this out so soon after my last piece but i do know that it is a miracle (now watch me disappear for like a month lmao)

anyway there’s a severe lack of content for the boys in this fandom and therefore i am here to try to mitigate that!!

(as a heads up, this is sort of an au version of obey me’s story?? there’s no exchange program, and the general human world doesn’t know about the devildom or celestial realm, apart from sorcerers and similar special cases. solomon and simeon both still visit the devildom, though - solomon because he has a sort of job at the r.a.d., and simeon as an ambassador sort of thing for the celestial realm. the r.a.d.’s also less of a school and more of an organisation?? i haven’t really fleshed it out haha)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): male! reader, solomon, mammon (briefly), simeon (briefly)

pairing(s): solomon/reader

warning(s): blasphemy??? solomon disses god really briefly and that’s about it

genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!

As a general rule of thumb, Solomon doesn’t believe in destiny.

He’s lived long enough to know that, no matter what he does, the universe does not care about him, much less have some sort of plan for his future. The course that the world takes isn’t affected by some grand puppet master pulling the strings; one has to force the so-called path of fate in the direction they want it to take if they want something. Solomon knows this better than anyone.

It’s as much a downfall as it is a strength - as much as power as he’s amassed over the countless years, his constant need to challenge the universe’s power has lead him down a path far from humanity. There had been a time when he was like every other human on the Earth, when he was still young, full of hope and determination and promise, believing earnestly in some God high in the sky who would guide him through his life.

He shudders to think what sort of insufferable fool he’d been back then. An almighty God? Don’t make him laugh. The ruler of the Celestial Realm is incompetent at best, and a downright childish brat at worst. He doesn’t know how the angels put up with him - though he supposes his realm-smiting power is part of it. Why the universe chose to place such power on such a being’s shoulders will always be beyond him.

Long as it has been since he had been so naive, Solomon has learnt his lesson, to say the least. He’s seen people come and go, witnessed kings and queens reign and fall, watched on as friends and family live and die. It’s a truth that he’s been forced to learn across the years of his long, long life, a curse that he brought upon himself the moment he gave up the purity of his soul in pursuit of magical arts. 

He supposes he’s always had an insatiable thirst for the unknown - to play all his cards out front, to tempt fate’s hand, to jump into the void and hope to find ground beneath his feet when he lands. It’s that sort of reckless abandon and hunt for knowledge that has led him so far down this path, through so many years, across so many sleepless nights. The world continues to swirl around him, always changing, but Solomon refuses to be swept away. Because, even in the tumultuous movement of the universe, there has always been one constant that keeps him anchored - you.

The night he'd first met you isn’t as clear in his mind as he would have liked. He wants to be able to remember everything - the way the soft blue light of the will-o’-whisps had lit up your eyes in the dark of the night, the way that your hand had felt in his as you greeted him with a handshake, the way that you had said his name for the first time - in sharp detail, but Solomon knows better than to hope to recall something so long ago so perfectly.

He’d still been relatively new to a sorcerer’s life at the time - excited and determined and a little too full of himself. You… well, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he does remember thinking that you must be the most handsome being to exist. The you of today would probably shake your head and dismiss the past you as an obnoxious high hoper, but Solomon has loved you for so many years that he’s never been able to think of you as anything less than perfect.

There are times when he wondered how he managed to stumble upon such luck. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Solomon has has had truly insufferable periods over the years he’s known you, and he’s always considered it a miracle that you still chose to stay. Even through all the restless nights and the exhausting trips, even after all of the clashes and vexation, you have refused to give up on him.

He had asked you once, in the aftermath of an argument spurred by his inability to confide in you and your own frustration with his refusal to communicate. He remembers that night so vividly that it might well have happened just yesterday - the frustrated shouts, the shattering of glass, the warmth of your arms around his shoulders as he finally collapsed on himself. He doesn’t know what your face had looked like as he stuttered the question out in stuttering breaths, head buried in your shoulder in an effort to conceal his tears, but he imagines that it had been soft.

“I’m not going to leave you to yourself,” You had told him matter-of-factly, stroking his hair with such fondness  that it still sometimes brings a tear to his eye when he remembers it on particularly long nights. “And I’m not giving up on you, either - not now, not ever.”

Solomon had been unable to speak, too choked up by his feelings and the sudden, overwhelming love spreading through his entire body to reply. He’d only sunk deeper into your embrace, wishing that the moment could last forever.

I wonder if he still remembers that…?

“...lomon! Anyone home?!”

He jolts up from the table he’s sitting at so abruptly that he nearly knocks his head right into Mammon’s chin. The Avater of Greed, however, reacts quickly, and hops back before Solomon can break his jawbone.

“Jeez, you’re off on a different planet today,” He comments, setting his hands on his hips as Solomon shoots him the sort of look that tells him that he’s not particularly enthused about his presence at the moment. “What’s up with ya?”

Solomon isn’t quite sure how to answer. Sorry, I got distracted thinking about how perfect and lovely my husband is and how I’m the luckiest man in the entire world - nay, the universe - to have him. He nearly physically shudders at the thought of how much teasing he’d receive if he answered like that.

Instead, he chooses a much safer and still technically true option. “Just thinking about going home today.”

Mammon nods in understanding, pulling up a seat next to him and throwing himself down into it without much grace. “I feel ya. S’ been a long day.”

“You’ve barely done anything today,” Solomon quips flatly, not particularly impressed by the demon’s attempt at… empathy? Relatability? Either way, it isn’t working. “I doubt it’s been that hard.”

“Now, now, Solomon, let’s not be rude,” interjects a soft voice from behind them. Simeon is still dressed in his fancy envoy cloak - the one so long and heavy that it trails along behind him like a bridal train, decorated with a number of elaborate golden charms that jingle as he moves.

Solomon attempts to shoot him a slightly annoyed look, but it’s kind of hard to stay irritated by one of the literal embodiments of holiness and light, even if he wakes you up at very unholy hours of the morning to help him figure out how to answer an email. Solomon isn’t ungrateful for the new age of technology descending on humanity, but he’d like it a lot better if it hadn’t somehow reached the angels as well. The amount of times he’s had to tell Simeon that he needs to actually turn his D.D.D. on before he starts calling someone is… embarrassing, to say the least.

“You’re back in the Devildom, I see,” He observes as the angel pulls up a seat and sits beside him. “Did Michael send you down again?”

Simeon nods with a smile. “There were some arrangements that needed to be made with Lord Diavolo. Naturally, I volunteered.”

“Naturally,” Solomon echoes, raising a brow at his friend. “I don’t suppose your biases had anything to do with your decision?”

“Well, they may have had some effect,” Simeon answers with a shameless smile and shrug, beginning to undo the tassels of his heavy cloak and draping it on the back of chair he’s sitting on. He’s still wearing all of his regular clothes underneath it - including the other, much smaller cloak. Solomon wonders how he hasn’t somehow melted in the heat.

“When’re you gonna start heading home, anyway?” Mammon asks, beginning to pick at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Solomon blinks and looks up at the clock. “...ah, you’re right. In that case, I'll get going now.”

Mammon shoots him an odd look as he pushes himself up from the table and reaches for his bag, managing to hoist it onto his shoulder with some effort. He’s never been particularly good at heavy lifting - you’re usually the one helping him carry everything around the house.

“Oi, oi, what’s the rush?” the demon asks as Solomon adjusts the weight of his bag and starts heading for the door. “You on a timer or something?”

“I promised [Name] I’d be home earlier tonight,” is Solomon’s slightly absent-minded reply as he fiddles about in his pocket to find his transportation charm, nearly losing his balance and dropping his bag in the process. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Mammon watches him in clear confusion for a moment as he pats down his pockets, mumbling a quiet curse under his breath as he realises that he’s left his charm at home again. How many times this month does that make it now...? He supposes that he could always perform a teleportation spell, but knowing his luck with those, he’ll probably end up somewhere in Morocco again.

“Oi, Simeon,” Mammon hisses to the angel, who cocks his head slightly to the side and leans over so as to hear him more clearly. “Who’s this ‘[Name]’ Solomon’s talkin’ about?”

“You don’t know?” Simeon blinks at him in blatant perplexion - as if he can’t even fathom the idea that Mammon might not know who Solomon’s talking about. “He’s talking about his husband.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then—

“Solomon has a HUSBAND!?” Mammon practically shrieks, completely flabbergasted. “I thought he was totally, like, the forever alone type!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed?” is Simeon’s bewildered response. “Who do you think Solomon is always talking about buying groceries for?”

“I thought he was just buyin’ them for himself!” Mammon fires back, looking far more ruffled and shocked than he probably should be. He whips around to look at Solomon, who’s flicking through the little packet of blank charms he keeps on him at all times in an effort to find the right one to create a temporary transportation charm. He’s had to do it so many times this month that he’s already beginning to run out. “You’re married?!”

“Of course,” Solomon answers vaguely, briefly raising his left hand, allowing Mammon to spot the soft glint of a ring around his fourth finger. “You’re not?”

“Wh— ‘course I’m not!” Mammon exclaims, positively scandalised by the very concept. “Why would I get married, huh?! It’s a waste of time and a waste of money!”

“Think whatever you like,” Solomon dismisses him easily, which only seems to irritate Mammon further.

Finally having found the right blank charm, he plucks it out and begins carefully tracing patterns onto it with a single glowing finger. He’s dimly aware of Mammon furiously whispering to Simeon in the background, with the angel responding in kind, most likely sharing some exaggerated story from back when the three of you had worked together - when Solomon had accepted a job from the Celestial Realm. The details of the whole thing are a little fuzzy to him now, long as it has been, but he’s almost completely sure that Simeon somehow still remembers the whole thing flawlessly.

“How old even is he?!” He hears Mammon hiss.

“I’m not so sure myself,” Simeon replies, placing his chin in a thoughtful hand. “Let’s see… their two millennial anniversary’s coming up in about two years, and I remember Solomon saying that they got married when he was around two hundred or so… which means he’s about twenty-one hundred years old.”

“Holy shit,” Mammon mutters in disbelief, turning glance at the sorcerer as he starts folding down the corners of his charm into the right shape. “Humans aren’t supposed to live that long. How’s his husband still alive, then?”

“That isn’t really a question for me to answer,” Simeon shakes his head slightly. “I suppose you can always ask him yourself if Solomon ever brings him to work with him.”

“I doubt it,” Solomon speaks up for the first time since announcing his departure. “He’s usually busy during the day. Besides, transportation charms make him queasy, and I’m not making him walk all the way down here.”

“Aren’t you a wizard?” Mammon asks, scratching his head. “Just do one of ya fancy teleportation spells. Why d’you need a charm?”

Solomon sighs. He hates to admit it, but he can’t be bothered to make up some other reason to cover up for himself. “I’m afraid that teleportation spells aren’t actually particularly accurate. We could end up somewhere in the Pacific if I’m not careful.”

Mammon looks thunderstruck. “Then what about all those times you’ve teleported us?! Don’t tell me we coulda ended up in, like, the Archaic Pit or something?!”

“Well, it was always a possibility,” Solomon shrugs in reply, finishing the charm with a deft flick of his hand. “You’re a demon, I sure you could have handled yourself.”

“But…!” Mammon crosses his arms and turns away like a grumpy child. “Hmph…”

“Do say hello to [Name] for me, will you?” Simeon requests as Solomon turns to open the door, ignoring the sulking demon sitting beside him. “We haven’t been able to talk for a while.”

“You text him every day, don’t you?” Solomon asks, shooting him an unimpressed look. “I’d say that’s conversation enough.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to be stingy,” Simeon countered with a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side and leaning forward. “Besides, one misses the presence of an actual person after a while of nothing but electronic communication... especially texting is so difficult. Tell him he’s always welcome to come around for some tea - Luke would be happy to see him.”

Solomon shakes his head, but makes a sound of affirmation nevertheless. You had mentioned that you’ve missed seeing Simeon since he’d started the whole negotiator businesss, and he isn’t the sort of person to deny you the company of a friend. “I’ll let him know. Anyway, I should really be going now…”

“Have a safe journey!” Simeon calls after him as he swings the door open and sweeps out. Solomon waves a hand over his shoulder in response, then disappears down the corridor, most likely to a quiet spot in the courtyard to use his charm. He’s been banned from using them indoors ever since he accidentally shattered one of the fancy artifacts in the assembly hall and sent hundreds of shards flying everywhere. Apparently Barbatos is still finding tiny pieces of glass in the crevices of the floor.

“Why didn’t Solomon ever say anythin’?” Mammon asks Simeon after a moment of quietude. “Seems like the sorta thing you’d mention.”

“Solomon’s a private man,” Simeon says with a shrug. “Besides, he and [Name] have made plenty of enemies over the years, and you’d be shocked by how quickly names and locations can spread…”

“Does he mind us knowin’ about it, then?”

“Well, personally, I’ve known for a while,” Simeon answers, “And I’m sure the others will have worked it out by now - Solomon’s always finding ways to mention [Name] in passing. But no, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He’d say something if he did.”

Mammon nods and goes silent for a little while. Then he asks, “What’s this [Name] like, then? Must be some guy if Solomon liked him enough to put a ring on him and keep him for that long.”

“Well, let’s see…” Simeon drums his fingers thoughtfully against the tabletop. “He has quite the penchant for raising deadly plants, he hasn’t gone more than a full month without exploding something or another for about five centuries, he takes clocks apart in his spare time, he likes his coffee with a touch of vanilla, he collects cursed books, he makes a lovely butterscotch-cinnamon pie, and he works as a curse breaker for hire.”

It takes a moment for Mammon to process all of the information that’s just been dumped on him. “...sounds like the kinda guy Satan would get along with.”

“I thought so as well,” Simeon agrees. “Their house even reminds me of Satan’s room, in a way… [Name] is quite the avid reader.”

“What, you’ve been?”

“Only once,” Simeon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he reminisces. “Quite a long time ago now. I wouldn’t know where to find it even if I wanted to go again, though - it’s always moving.”

“Do they move house a lot, then?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. They’ve lived in the same house for centuries - it’s the house that moves itself.”

Mammon pauses. “...what?”

“The building,” Simeon clarifies. “They’ve got an enchantment on the whole thing that makes it change locations every couple of weeks or so.”

“But… why?”

Simeon shrugs. “[Name] doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

“Still, isn’t that a bit much…?” Mammon pulls a face. “They could always just travel, ya know…”

“As Solomon said, transportation talismans make [Name] feel queasy,” Simeon explains. “And he prefers not to use teleportation spells when it comes to him, just in case they end up somewhere dangerous.”

“And he doesn’t care about the rest of us ending up somewhere dangerous?” Mammon huffs and collapses forwards onto the table.

“Well, you can’t really compare the two,” Simeon says patiently as the demon continues to mutter indignantly under his breath. “He’s his husband, and we’re essentially just his friends from work.”

Mammon opens his mouth to make a rebuttal, then thinks about it for a moment and changes his mind. After a moment, he comments, a little less resentfully, “Well, you’d think he’d at least introduce us.”

“He’s been planning to for a while, actually,” Simeon tells him. “Give him some time and he’ll probably bring it up on his own.”

Mammon nods. “He’d better!”

“I’m home.”

You look up from the book you’re reading and hop down from your seat on the roof just in time to see Solomon emerge from the back garden, looking noticeably dishevelled, with leaves decorating his head like some sort of fancy accessory.

“Welcome back!” You greet him happily, setting the book aside and moving forward to start picking the leaves from his hair. Solomon smiles softly at you as you take his bag in one hand and start pulling him to the front door with the other. “You forgot your talisman again, by the way.”

“I noticed,” He laughs, gently removing your hand from his upper arm and wrapping his fingers around it instead. “Why else do you think I ended up in the hedges again?”

“It’s a wonder that you’ve had to make these temporary talismans so many times and you still haven’t gotten one right yet,” You tease in reply, nudging him in the shoulder. “How many points is that on the tally now, then?”

“Ten for the basement, seven for the roof, and eleven for the hedges now,” He answers with a small pout as you laugh. “Honestly, you’d think I would have learnt my lesson...”

“You never do, love.” 

The door creaks as you and your husband enter the house, only to immediately be greeted by a bundle of scales hitting you head-on. You manage to keep your footing and steady yourself on the doorway; Solomon isn’t so lucky, and ends up laying spread-eagled on the floor with about two hundred kilograms of excited adolescent dragon purring on his chest.

“Looks like Triton missed you,” You comment with a bright smile, setting Solomon’s bag down beside the umbrella rack and leaning over to give the dragon a scratch behind his left horn, just the way he likes it. He rumbles happily and jingles the little bell around his neck at you. “Isn’t he getting big?”

“I saw him this morning, [Name],” Solomon wheezes from his position on the floor, somehow managing to reach up and tickle Triton’s chin with one hand despite the dragon’s weight. “He can’t have grown that much in ten hours.”

“You never know!” You tell him, reaching up and wrapping your arms around Triton’s neck. He coos in a delighted fashion and raises his head, setting it heavily on your shoulder. Solomon uses the brief lightening of the weight on him to take in a deep breath as you allow your dragon to nuzzle furiously into your neck. “Dragons are unpredictable, you know.”

“Believe me, I do,” He sighs tiredly as Triton blows out a pleased puff of hot air and knocks the clock off the wall again. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Triton, I’d quite like to get back up again.”

The dragon blinks and raises his head from your shoulder, glancing down at the sorcerer that he’s crushing under his weight. Then he huffs and turns away again.

“Oh, you—!” Solomon curses as the dragon seems to press even harder into him. Your laughter rings out across the hall, and while he’d normally take a moment to admire the sound, he’s a little preoccupied. “[Name], stop laughing and help me!”

“He’s like a rebellious teenager!” You splutter helplessly in reply, voice still trembling slightly out of mirth. Triton makes a happy noise as you reach up and rub his scaly cheeks, his ears fluttering slightly. “Awww, you’re really growing up, aren’t you, baby? Your poor dads are really going to have their work cut out for them, huh?”

“Hey,” Solomon calls reproachfully from beneath Triton’s enormous chest. “Your husband’s still being crushed down here.”

“Oh, right!” You click your tongue and give Triton a meaningful look. He grumbles but obeys nevertheless, hopping off of Solomon (though not without knocking all the air out of him by using his chest as a launchpad) and scampering off, most likely to go play with the salamanders that have set up shop in the storage room again.

“I’ll never understand how you manage him so well,” Solomon sighs as you bend down to pull him to his feet, rubbing at the sore spot on his chest. “He never listens to me.”

“Aw, he loves you, really,” You reassure him, taking his hand and pressing a comforting kiss to his knuckles. “He just likes roughhousing with you.”

Solomon shakes his head, wanting to complain further about the big lizard that the two of you had adopted six months ago after the last one grew up and flew the nest, but then he sees the smile on your face, and he feels the flicker of irritation in his chest die down almost immediately. It’s at times like this that he’s really reminded of how absolutely worth it all of the nonsense he has to put up with at work is - because, at the end of the day, you are here, with your warm eyes and your lovely smile, with your comforting hands and your warm embrace, and there is no road too long to walk if you are waiting for him at the end of it.

“I know,” He sighs, tugging off his shoes and stepping into his favourite pair of slippers - the ones with the little cat faces printed on them that you’ve charmed to always maintain a perfect temperature for his feet. He glances at your own feet and notes that you’re wearing your matching pair as well.

The two of you have long since set up a routine for this sort of occasion, and you both fall into it with unconscious ease. Solomon changes into something more comfortable while you put the kettle on in the kitchen, and the two of you inevitably spend so long snuggled up together on the largest armchair in the living room, unwilling to leave the warmth of each other’s presence, that the water cools down, and you end up having to put it back on again. Then you sit together at the table, you with a coffee with a dash of vanilla and him with his favourite chrysanthemum tea that you always brew just the way he likes it. Sometimes you’ll sit side by side, shoulders pressed up against each other as you show him the specifics of your latest curse-breaking commission, and sometimes you’ll sit across from each other, holding hands across the tabletop as he tells you about his day.

Today it is the former, but Solomon can’t help but zone a little out of the detailed deep-dive you’re giving him about the intricacies of the spell that’s cursed this teapot to shoot its contents at anyone who attempts to fill it. It isn’t that your explanation is boring - quite the contrary, in fact; Solomon could probably listen to you describing the most mundane or trivial of things on loop for the rest of his life and be perfectly content with it. No, it’s more to do with the fact that this is the first time he’s been home before dark in a long while, and he can’t help but revel in the fact that he can spend time with you like this again. Of course, there’s something wonderful in coming home to be able to collapse into bed beside you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, drifting to sleep as you burrow closer to him even in your sleep, but Solomon can’t run off of that forever - he needs to see you with your eyes open as well, after all. 

“You’re not listening to a word I say, are you?” You ask as you note the far-off look on your husband’s face. You’re not offended in the slightest by the way he starts at the directed question, evidently guilty, but you are a little puzzled. “Is there something wrong?”

Solomon’s mouth falls open slightly, then shuts again. There’s something about the way you’re looking at him so earnestly that makes his heart stutter like nothing else. Honestly, you’d think he’d be used to this after nearly two thousand years, but it seems that he’s still as weak for you as he was on the very first day of your marriage. “...I suppose I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You always have a lot on your mind,” You counter softly, giving his hand a brief squeeze. “Come on, you can tell me.”

He laughs quietly, bringing your linked hands up to his face and gently holding yours to the side of his face; you, in turn, unfurl your fingers from around his and rub his cheek affectionately. After a moment, a fond smile pulling at his lips, Solomon replies, “I’ve… missed you a lot this week.”

You pause in mild surprise, but it quickly turns to endearment as Solomon presses his body even closer to yours. The hand that you’re using to hold your mug of coffee moves to settle on his shoulder as you pull him closer. “Really now? What a coincidence. I’ve missed you lots as well, love.”

He chuckles a little bashfully, his cheeks flushing. It seems that your ability to fluster him hasn’t declined even a bit over the years. He’s still well and truly besotted.

You can’t help but find it rather amusing that, despite already having spent a good hour and a half or so in the living room, bundled so close together in the blankets that you could feel his breath on your skin, the two of you are still nestling so close together now. You suppose it’s the effects of a week with much less contact than usual.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw before pulling back again, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip. Solomon exhales softly, pulling his own drink towards him and draining the last of the tea in a single mouthful.

“You know,” He says, setting his empty cup down on the table. “One of my coworkers was asking about you earlier.”

“‘Coworkers’,” You snort at his choice of language, earning a reproachful poke in the side as punishment. “Come on, just admit that they’re your friends.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “One of my friends, then - Mammon, the one that Lucifer’s stringing up all the time.”

“The one with white hair?” You recall, thinking back to the group photo that Simeon had sent you a while back. “He’s the Avatar of Greed, right?”

“That’s the one,” Solomon nods. “Apparently he never noticed that I was married.”

“Well, you can’t really blame him,” You say, giving him a playful nudge. “Honestly, the way you keep your mouth shut, you’d think I was some shameful secret or something.”

Solomon looks scandalised by the very idea - it had only been a little joke, but his eyes flash with such affront that it’s almost as if someone has genuinely called you such a thing. “Of course not! I’d never—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I was joking,” You cut him off before he can get more riled up. Solomon calms down quickly once you set a comforting hand on his knee, though he still looks a little indignant. “I know why you don’t like talking about us much, but really, it’s okay. They’re your friends, aren't they?”

He hesitates, then nods, releasing another deep sigh soon afterwards. “I suppose. There isn’t much I can really do about it at this point anyway… according to Simeon, most of them have somehow figured it out already.”

“They’re probably a lot smarter than you give them credit for, Sol,” You hum, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes for him. “They’re demons, after all. They’ve lived even longer than us.”

“Believe me, they really aren’t.” Solomon shakes his head, a frown pinching at his brow at the very memory of the amount of things that his coworkers have done recently - some of the most notable being Diavolo setting an entire flock of geese free in the courtyard for an ‘experiment’, Levi quite literally throwing himself out of a window just to win a bet against Mammon about who could get down the stairs faster, Asmo causing a stampede in the main hall by dropping and shattering a bottle full of a powerful aphrodisiac potion that became even more powerful once released into the air, and Lucifer accidentally breaking one of Solomon’s favourite cauldrons when he’d transformed into his demon form and inadvertently smacked halfway across the room it with one of his upper wings.

“I’d really love to meet them some day,” You sigh, swirling the contents of your mug around. “They sound like fun.”

“Trust me, the trouble isn’t worth it—” Solomon attempts to reason with you, but he gives up laughably quickly as you pout at him in protest. “Oh, fine. But don’t blame me if you get sick because of the charm again.”

“We don’t have to use the charm,” You shake your head. “Just do a teleportation spell!”

“You know that that’s risky,” Solomon sighs, chucking you under the chin and leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You laugh as he draws back again, a pleased smile rising on his face at your reaction. “We could end up anywhere.”

“You’ve teleported them a bunch of times, though, haven’t you? And you haven’t ended up in Texas or the Sahara Desert any of those times!”

The resemblance to his earlier conversation with Mammon and Simeon is almost uncanny. “That’s different. I was still teleporting them within the Devildom, not across an entire realm barrier… and besides, I can afford the risk with them. You’re a different story.”

You pout again, shoulders dropping in defeat, though it doesn’t escape Solomon’s notice that his sentiment seems to have appeased you at least a little. “...guess we’ll just have to use a transportation talisman, huh…?”

“That’s your only option if you really want to visit, yes.”

You go quiet for a moment or two, nose wrinkling and face scrunching as you think it over. Solomon doesn’t mind the lack of conversation - he entertains himself by studying your features, wondering for perhaps the millionth time how he managed to find someone like you.

Finally, a determined look rising on your face, you nod and proclaim, “Then I’ll do it!”

Solomon cocks his head slightly to the side. He can’t say he’s surprised by your eagerness, but he had expected it to take you longer to make up your mind. He opens his mouth to say something, but tou answer his question before he’s even asked it, a skill that you’d managed to pick up within the first year or so of knowing him.

“I really wanna see what you actually get up to when you work,” You explain, looking a little sheepish. “You’ve had a job there for nearly two years and I’ve never even said a word to the people you work with.”

Solomon laughs. “It isn’t usually a requirement in the workplace. Wear appropriate uniform, bring any equipment you need, introduce your husband to your coworkers within the decade…”

“Still, I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least meet them,” You say. “Besides, I want to see Simeon as well. You said he’s working down in the Devildom for a bit as well, didn’t you?”

“Why are you so eager to see him, huh?” Solomon’s tone is light and teasing, so you know not to take him seriously as he puts on an hurt expression. “I’m offended. Your dear husband’s right here and you’re thinking about some angel.”

“Oh, stop it, you,” You shake your head in slightly exasperated amusement as he runs a finger down his cheek in lieu of a tear. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulls an exaggeratedly petulant face and pretends to turn away like an upset child. “Sometimes I feel like you love him more than me.”

“Simeon’s a lovely guy, but you’re still the only guy for me, you doof,” You tell him, tapping fondly at the cheek he’s turned to you with your free hand. Solomon obligingly turns back around to look at you, a grin pulling at his mouth. “Why would I marry you and then stay here for two thousand years if you weren't?”

“I guess I always assumed it was out of pity or something,” He jokes in response, leaning forward and briefly brushing his nose against yours. “And, just so you know, you’re the only guy for me as well.”

“I’d better be,” is your lighthearted reply as he pulls away. After a moment, looking at him expectantly, you begin tentatively, “So…?”

He sighs, but gives you a smile nevertheless. “I’ll ask Diavolo. He probably wouldn’t mind if I brought you without asking first, but Lucifer definitely would.”

“What’ll we do if they hate me?” You ask. “Do demons actually eat humans?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” He replies firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, they won’t hate you. I doubt anyone could.”

You laugh and drop your head to rest on his chest. “You’re too nice to me, love.”

Solomon turns to wrap both his arms around your shoulders, setting his chin on the crown of your head. You smile into his jumper, looping your own arms around his waist and pushing yourself closer to him.

“I’m not just being nice. Honestly, [Name], you’re kind of the most perfect man in the universe.”

[owlheartt]

Help I have homework-

Oh jeez I'm 100% about to spend another hour or so writing more on this. Calluna what have you done to me. Anyways. @calcium-cat, I didn't write a swapped version but I started an alternate version of OSD with memories. Send help. I have other projects/homework/chores that need to be done.

Dream groaned. His head was throbbing, and that magic suppressor had made more than his magic feel small. Opening his eyes wearily, he tried to get up. And promptly ended back up on the floor. His limbs weren’t reaching the way they should, and he didn’t feel in control with the way they flailed. Taking a moment to look at himself, Dream saw… he was smaller. He was a kid. His body had been taken back in time to before the incident, to before his twin was his enemy, before everything. What now?

Nightmare solved the question for him by materializing again. Dream managed to right himself before Nightmare opened his eyes, the goopy skeleton’s face settling into a grinning glare. Then shock. The teal eyelight frantically looking Dream up and down, back and forth. The two of them stood there, just staring at each other. Just as Dream’s neck began to ache from looking up, (why was his brother so tall?!) Nightmare broke the silence.

“D-Dream..?” Nightmare’s voice sounded… broken. Hurt. Lost. It struck Dream to his very SOUL. But also… was this a sign? Maybe Nightmare still cared. Some deep part of him that he refused to recognize, that only a small, innocent child could bring out, still cared for his twin. Nightmare had said that it was his turn now, but who said Dream couldn’t make his own rules? Besides, if he looked like a kid, how unbelievable would it be if he acted like one too?

“Who are you?” Dream tried, in the smallest, most childish voice he could. It didn’t take much effort with his new body. He felt guilty for fooling Nightmare, but the result was instantaneous.

“What do you mean.” Nightmare’s voice was stiff. His tentacles straightened, their ends becoming pointier and unnervingly like knives.

“I don’t think I’ve met you before,” Dream said, combing his mind for his outlook on life when he was a kid. He would’ve been open to strangers and… desperate for his brother. Dream would’ve wanted his brother with him all the time, even though Nighty wasn’t always interested in tagging along. And, hm, what else… the new place! Kid Dream wasn’t familiar with big stone buildings or living away from his tree. While Nightmare seemingly struggled for words, Dream squeezed in another question. “What is this place? Where…” Ah, too much. He wasn’t quite ready to ask that question yet.

“I… This place is my home,” Nightmare said. His tone wasn’t swaying and his tentacles weren’t changing, but at least Dream was still ok. It was glaringly obvious how he dodged the first question though.

“Why am I here?”

“You…” Nightmare seemed to be struggling to find answers. If Dream had any less of a conscience, he would be enjoying it. But…

“Do you know where my brother is? Is he here too?” Nightmare’s tentacles, somehow, became even pointier. Then they relaxed in defeat.

“He’s not.” Well that wasn’t the answer Dream was expecting. “He’s gone. I… was traveling through a village when I saw… a special tree. It was being attacked by the villagers.” Nightmare paused in his storytelling.

“But-but-” Dream wanted to say that that’s not what happened. That he was Dream’s precious twin, and that… that what? That Dream had been there to help Nightmare protect it? But he hadn’t. He had left his twin all alone to stop the villagers, just because he didn’t think that they would do that. But the younger Dream would’ve thought that he would. Younger Dream would’ve stayed and protected his brother. “But Nighty and I protected it!!!! Nighty and I would’ve made sure that no one hurt it, and the villagers wouldn’t try anyway!!”

It looked like the words had hurt Nightmare as much as they hurt Dream. Then Night’s face turned down into a scowl.

“Of course you would-” Dream couldn’t help himself. The tears came and he couldn’t stop them. Nightmare was right to be mad. So, so mad. But then Dream’s twin surprised him again. “And you did.” His voice had turned soft, quieter. “Maybe the villagers were just… just really good liars. I wasn’t there long enough to find out. But you and your brother tried your best to protect it. They got you pretty good, hit you right over the head. When you fell all the golden apples turned rotten.”

Dream could see it in his head. The fallen tree. The bodies. He tried to imagine what it had looked like when the apples… turned black. Goop oozing out of the edges, staining the glitty skin. The tears, which had begun to slow, came back.

“Your brother couldn’t stop them.” Nightmare’s voice sounded so disappointed, mad. Before, Dream had been certain that Nightmare was mad at him, but what if he was mad at himself too? All those negative feelings built up between the two of them… but that was what Nightmare thrived on, wasn’t it? “The villagers chopped down the tree, and upon not finding any golden apples, they took your brother and left you for dead. I brought you here.”

The story was missing a lot. Why Dream had a golden apple as his SOUL, why Nightmare wanted to care for him, where the villagers had gone, why Nightmare hadn’t stepped in… but younger Dream wouldn’t have questioned it. Of course the stranger wouldn’t have stepped in, he wouldn’t want to get hurt. Of course the stranger wanted to help him, it was just out of the kindness of his SOUL. Of course he didn’t know where Nightmare was, he had to help Dream first.

“B-but my brother…” Dream said. He realized that he was still crying. Absolutely sobbing in fact. But that was fine. It fits with his character. Young Dream had just lost everything, in mere seconds. Dream felt the crushing loss all over again. The deep sorrow that had been sealed into him when his bones were sealed into stone. It was inescapable.

“I… I have to go check something. Stay here, I’ll send someone to help you, alright?” Nightmare said, sighing. He brought a single tentacle around to give Dream a slight squeeze on the shoulders, almost like a hug. The tentacle was cold and unfriendly, but Dream reached out his tiny too-short arms to hug it back, to hold it close. “Please let go, I have to go get someone to take care of you, alright?”

(in case you need chapter 2)

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter One.

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of wtsgd! i’m so excited for you all to read this story and for what’s to come. please please please support content creators bc we’re doing this for free and it takes up a lot of energy to put out stories. so reblog, leave feedback, and send a message to motivate and support them. happy reading everyone <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 6.4k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

March 4, 2017

The trunk was filled with heavy boxes that were labeled with thick black sharpie, which didn’t seem to leave Luciana’s senses; and one too many suitcases filled with her many articles of clothing that she couldn’t get rid of—no matter how hard she tried—since she was too much of a hoarder and every piece of clothing seemed to have a lost memory in them that she tried very hard to think of, which only meant that it was worth keeping. 

A droplet of sweat leaked down the side of her face due to  her nonstop packing and heavy-lifting from her childhood room upstairs to her dad’s car in the driveway. It didn’t help that the sun was beaming down at her with every move like she was on center stage, in front of the spotlight, but it made much more sense for the sun to do that because that’s where she belonged: on stage. 

Moving to Brooklyn, New York from Cambridge, Massachusetts during, what felt like, the coldest but the sunniest day of March wasn’t the smartest move—to be fair, Luciana was never one to make a smart move, anyways—but it was one that needed to be done. Plus, all the lifting seemed to have warmed her up. 

Her destination, or now, home, in New York was one that she’d been anticipating for a while now. She had auditioned for the role as Kim in Miss Saigon on Broadway in November, and she’d gotten a callback in January for the role as the second Kim, meaning she would be on rotation to perform every week or two weeks, so the main Kim could rest. But she would still have to go to rehearsals and be on the side of the stage watching the show just in case she needed to jump in at the last minute. 

It wasn’t her ideal way of playing the main lead, but nonetheless, she was grateful for the opportunity, and she would take any chance that was thrown at her to not only take another step towards her dream, but also another learning opportunity to make her a better actress. 

Little Luci would’ve been so proud of the present Luci because it’d been her dream ever since she was younger, to be on stage and eventually, be on the big screen. Although she was far from completing her dream of being a face in Hollywood, this was a step that would take her to where she wanted to be in the future, and for that, she was proud of herself. 

As a child, Luci had been in various commercials; from being the kid that played with slime and had no lines but to just put on a big smile while the sticky substance ran through her small hands, to being the daughter in a car commercial with one line that said “Are we there yet?” with a groan and a face of exhaustion as if she were the one driving the car. She hoped that these commercials would have someone recognize her talent, to cast her as a Disney star, but that would require moving to California, which her parents were wary of. 

The commercials stopped when she reached middle school. Her early adolescent years consisted of an abundance of attitude and mood swings; Luci was a very tough and determined kid. Her love for acting had grown into a big balloon that was let go and on its way into the galaxy where no one could reach it—where no one could mess with her achieving her dream. 

She would always stand in front of her white wooden framed mirror—with delicately painted colorful flowers around the border—reciting lines that she heard from a television series or the films that she watched, and she would write them down in her blue notebook. Sometimes, her parents would let her search the script up if it was available online. But oftentimes, she would test and challenge her memorization, and listen to it by ear; testing her mind, and eventually, her memorization skills were immaculate by the age of eleven. 

It was perfect timing because by the time she was in middle school, she was able to snatch the roles she wanted when her school’s drama department held school plays. Her family thought that she would start to hate being on stage since school plays always ran until late evening, but being part of the productions had only enhanced her love for her talent, and it only prepared her for a quarter of what her future may look like. 

All in all, from a very young age, she always knew that she wanted to become an actress. The spotlight or the center of the camera was where she always craved to be. 

And she was finally making that dream come true. 

A black Toyota Camry pulled into the space behind the car that was filled with her belongings. Ren and Beatrice, Luci’s lovely parents, both get out of the car with a pink box of donuts—a snack for the road and for when she gets to her new apartment. 

“Ready, Lucky?” Beatrice asked, rubbing her daughter’s back. She was quite bummed to see Luci leave her childhood home, but she’s proud to see Lucky Luci chase her dreams. She was, after all, twenty-five and was bound to move out at some point, but to see it actually happen made Beatrice quite emotional. 

“Ma, please, don’t cry…” Luci frowned as Beatrice pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes. She wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulder, comforting her. “You’re all coming to New York in a month, right? To watch me on stage?” Luci asked, reassuring herself that she would see her family in a different state to rescue her from her loneliness. 

Luci was an independent woman. She could do tasks by herself, go places alone, and she wouldn’t have a problem with it; she enjoyed the company of herself. But to know that at some point she might be alone—that everyone had left her behind or forgotten about her—was what scared her. She needed to know that the people who loved her unconditionally wouldn’t forget about her. 

“Of course we’re going!” Ren exclaimed with a smile that Luci was going to miss seeing everyday. “We can’t miss our baby on the Broadway stage. If we could, we’d go to every damn show that you’re in, but that would be a lot of gas, no?” 

She chuckled, nodding her head. She felt tears pricking her eyes at how supportive her parents were—they’ve always been. If she could, she would take them with her to New York, but her one bedroom apartment and their work said otherwise. 

“Now, Lucky, don’t cry.” It was Beatrice’s turn to comfort her daughter. Like any parent, when they see their child cry, it breaks their heart and they cry too. “We’re gonna see you real soon. You can always come back anytime you want. We’re just a phone call away and we’ll pick you up,” Beatrice said between sniffles. The mother and daughter were embracing so tenderly and comfortingly—enjoying every last moment together until they got to see each other again. 

“Jeez, you’re both the same—always crying!” Ren interrupted, making the two women laugh; and he was glad they found what he said amusing because he couldn’t handle the sad moment. “C’mon here, my Lulu.” Luci settled into her father’s arms, hugging him tightly. She’s always been her dad’s girl, despite having a close relationship with her mother, her relationship with her father was something that felt like home; he always knew what to say and when to say it. It helped that she was the female version of him. “You’re gonna be the best star out there, I’m sure of it. Now, I want you to have fun, alright? The fame, the fortune, the big city…it doesn’t amount to anything if you’re not having the time of your life” He comfortingly rubbed Luci’s back, holding her in a warm and tight squeeze. 

Luci smiled at her father’s words. She was always a bit hard on herself when she would mess up or forget a line or a movement that correlates to a specific line in her script. When she was younger, she would beat herself up for a sliver of a moment; she would cry into her pillow—sobs loud enough that they were heard from downstairs. Luci would think that she wouldn’t become a well-known actress just because of the minor forgetfulness her mind had presented. But Ren would gently tap on her ocean blue door, letting himself in because he knew his daughter didn’t have the energy to get up and let him in, and he would sit beside her, gently urging her to sit up with him. Once she complied, after many groans of refusals, she would be glad she did because her father looked deeply into her eyes—and it was like looking into the reflection of clear and clean water—and told her she was a star. It was only three words, but those three words reminded her to never give up and get up when she would hit the pavement of what she felt like were her fallen hopes and dreams. 

Ren would then end it with a statement of advice that had always lingered in her mind, resonating to the silent and harshful words that she tells herself. ‘Nothing will amount to anything if you’re not having the time of your life.’

A rush of gratitude settled upon her as her eyes became glossier by the seconds she was in Ren’s arms. Beatrice looked at her greatest treasures fondly, a smile appeared on her face only for it to be replaced by a look of confusion. 

“Where is that damn brother of yours? He said he was going to be here at ten!” Beatrice interrupted the sweet moment she was having with her father, making them disconnect from the hug—just as Ren did with Luci and Beatrice.  

Speaking of the devil, her dear brother was making his way towards home on the side of the street, wearing a grey sweatshirt that was stained with his sweat as his earphones were nestled in his ears, loudly playing music. He loudly sang along to some rap song, breath staggered as he rapped along with his hands. 

Nathan smiled once he stepped foot onto the driveway as he took out his earphones, seeing his family look at him vigilantly. Luci laughed, shaking her head. 

“Hey, there’s our superstar, little Ana!” Nathan opened his arms, ready to hug you but she quickly stopped him, curving her spine backwards to deny his hug. Ana had been one of the many nicknames her family had called her when she was growing up from the second half of her name, but Ana seemed to have stuck with Nathan as no one else really called her that, so it was his own personal nickname for her. 

“Ew, please, do not hug me.” Her face wrinkled in disgust from the spell of her brother’s sweat from his run. Nathan chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes before turning towards his parents. 

“Ooh, donuts-”

Beatrice slapped the back of his hand before he even got a chance to open the pink donut box. “Not until you shower and change. Lulu needs to be in Brooklyn by three!” 

“Ow, mother!” Nathan whipped his hand away from Beatrice’s burning slap, although he was just playing around and being dramatic. “But fine, alright. The star always gets what she wants, am I right?” He dropped his head towards Luci, sighing before he hurried inside the house to take a quick shower and change. 

Luci giggled, telling her parents that she would be right back to go up to her room to check if she’d gotten everything, even though she knew that she had everything, she just needed to reminisce alone for a moment. 

Her feet took her up the wooden stairs, where she, for some unknown reason, always spent her time sitting on as she leaned her back against the wall and read or drew. Nathan always found it weird of her when they were doing homework when they were younger, but it was just one of the many fun anecdotes he could tell reporters if he’s asked about their childhood. 

Pushing open her ocean blue door that she never changed because she loved the color, she was met with the emptiness of what was once her sanctuary. Despite the paint on the wall changing, the replacement of furniture, and rearrangement of her childhood room, Luci could still see the baby pink walls where she hung up various posters of her celebrity crushes when she was eight. She could still see herself walking over to her Cinderella white wooden dresser as she pulled out an inflatable microphone from her drawer before she walked over to her bed to sing her heart out with her cousin. In the corner of her room was her mirror that she painted colorful flowers along the border when she was younger, and she definitely did not want to change or get rid of it; it wasn’t difficult to stir up a memory when she was in front of that mirror because up until now, she was always reciting her lines to her own reflection until the late night. 

All of these memories that Luci held within her heart would help her ground herself—remind her where she came from. No matter where her career took her, she would always be the girl that was firstly known in her room, crying, laughing, and acting within the four baby pink walls until she was sixteen, and then it changed to an ecru white. The feeling of nostalgia clutched her chest, and for the second time today—not even noon, yet—she found herself crying. 

She silently sobbed in her sanctuary. Her chest felt tight, like her heart was grasping onto the memories, begging her to not leave, to not move on. But moving on would mean being stuck, and she didn’t want to feel stuck—she just never wanted to be in one place where the walls would slowly feel like they were closing in on her. She didn’t want to be in one place and eventually hated it, so for that, she had to move on. 

A soft knock was heard from the outside of her bedroom, making Luci turn around hastily. She found Beatrice standing in the doorway, warmly smiling at her daughter, and keeping the tears at bay because she needed the comfort of her mother more than her mother’s tears. 

“My Lucky Star…” Beatrice walked into the room, welcoming Luci into her arms. “You okay?” 

Luci deeply inhaled and exhaled as she calmed herself down from her cries. “I’m alright. It’s just hard saying goodbye to this place—to my room.”’

“Oh, Lulu. You don’t need to say goodbye. I know you’ll be coming back here soon, anyways. I know you love home too much to completely stay away.” Beatrice was subtly trying to remind Luci about her love for her hometown, for her home, but her words also were trying to remind her about that certain love for her home and to never forget that love so she doesn’t stray away because Beatrice was simply afraid Luci would never want to come back once she discovered the luxury of her career. And even though she knew her Lulu wasn’t one to forget about her family, Beatrice would never admit her fear. 

Luci sniffled, wiping her tears away as she pulled away from her mother’s embrace. “Yeah, I know. Just…doesn’t feel real that I’m leaving.” 

“Sure, you’re leaving, but you’re going off to do bigger and better things. You were never one to stay in one place, physically and mentally—you were always moving, always loved learning more. And I’ve always been so intrigued and interested in how your mind works.” 

“Ma…” The waterworks seemed to be the highlight of the move. 

“I’m serious! I’m so genuinely proud of you. You’ve been keeping your talent—and I don’t mean ‘high school plays’ talent. I mean your Broadway, Hollywood, Academy winning talent. Now, you get to showcase your light in front of thousands of people.” Beatrice always had a way of boosting Luci’s self-esteem, making her ego a tad bit more bigger than it already was. She didn’t mind if her self-esteem had skyrocketed into the galaxy of her dreams, but she always reminded Luci that being humble and kind always outweighed being obnoxious and arrogant. “Now, enough with these tears. You’ve got a road trip to New York. C’mon, now.” 

They made their way downstairs and out the door where Ren and Nathan were talking about the latest basketball game of the Celtics. The trunk was closed, and the only thing waiting was Luci herself. 

“There she is! Ready?” 

Luci took a deep breath, turning her head to look back at the pastel yellow house that had kept her safe for the past twenty-five years. From here, she knew everything was going to change. Whether it’d be for the good or if things would go downhill from here? She didn’t know; all she knew was that she was going to be doing what she loved and she was going to have the time of her life doing it. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” 

The state of Connecticut seemed to pass by quickly from the car as Nathan drove at a decent seventy miles per hour; the state vanished just as quickly as when they entered. 

Luci mindlessly looked out the window, thinking about everything and nothing at once as she drowned out the music playing through the speakers of the car and Nathan’s voice singing along. 

The cars passing by, the bystanders, and the locals filled the streets and highways, making her wonder what all of these people’s stories were—wondering if they lived in this city or if they were just stopping by to visit, or if they’re just going through the state to get to the one next door just as she was. Maybe she’s had an encounter or simply passed by them on the street in a world that seemed too large but small at the same time. She always pondered on whether everyone else thought the way she thought—if they wondered what her story was or the people around them. 

The world is an interesting place and there were so many intriguing people out there, making her more excited by the minute as she takes on this new adventure in her life that would be completely life changing. Luci’s going to be meeting so many new people that, she would hope, have an impact on her personal life or career. 

“Nervous?” Nathan broke the comfortable silence between them. 

Luci raised her brows and curled her lips into her mouth. “A bit.” 

He nodded, thinking for a moment. Nathan was always one to think before he spoke, and it was a quality that some people needed to learn how to do. He quickly learned that lesson when he was in high school; one of his friends, Johnny, and him were going back and forth joking around with one another. And for some odd reason, teenage boys liked to joke around about fucking everything, so Nathan had said “Yeah, I fucked your mom, what about it?” without thinking. Johnny stayed silent, the rest of their friends were waiting for his comeback, but they only received tears that glossed over his eyes before he ran off to a different part of campus, away from the lunch tables. Nathan found him behind the orchestra building with his face pressed on his kneecaps, crying. Later, he found out that Johnny’s mother had passed away before their sophomore year started and he hadn’t told anyone, which left Nathan quite speechless, but it was a lesson that he learned: to think before anything comes out of his mouth. 

“I know you’ll do great. You were born to do this, born to be on stage. Everything you do is to greater your experience and opportunities. All the mistakes you’re gonna make, which we both know you’re gonna make, they’re gonna be learning lessons for you to continue doing what you’re good at doing; the mistakes are there so you can better yourself,” he reassured, occasionally glancing at you briefly before averting his eyes back onto the highway. 

Luci smiled, never taking her eyes off her older brother. She leaned closer to the middle console, where his right arm was resting on the padded console. Hugging his arm tightly and resting her cheek on his shoulder, she accepted and appreciated his advice, his words. They made her heart fill up with so much gratitude and love, insanely grateful and happy that she had such an amazing and supportive family who always knew the right things to say when they could sense her nerves and anxieties powering through the roof. 

“You’re gonna kill it out there. This is just a step towards where you wanna go, where you actually wanna be.” 

She nodded, looking to her right as they quickly passed the ‘Welcome to New York’ sign from the state line of Connecticut and New York, and it was the sign indicating her new home. 

Nathan pulled into the apartment’s parking garage, entering in with the code that the complex gave Luci on the silver keypad as the two watched the automatic gate arm swing up to the side, and Nathan entered the parking structure, parking in one of the many spaces available. 

Luci excitedly got out of the car, rushing to the trunk where Nathan had opened it from inside the car. Unfortunately, she had forgotten to bring the hand dolly to help carry the boxes, which meant that the siblings were going to have to carry the many boxes she packed by her own hand and strength. But luckily, some of them weren’t that heavy; most of the items in the brown boxes were kitchenware and she figured she could just drag those. 

One by one, they took one box each and headed for the elevator, where it took them to her apartment floor—floor four. Luci grabbed the keys from her purse that contained two copper keys hanging on one single silver loop and a small keyless sensor, and she unlocked her navy blue door, revealing her new apartment. 

When she entered, she was met with a door across the entrance that she would use for her coats and shoes, things that she would need when she’s rushing out the door. Going through the small hallway in from the entrance, it led her to another small hallway to her left where her bedroom and guest bathroom was; and to her right, it would take her to the kitchen and living space. With four big windows with black window frames, the natural light really came in, making her place brighter for saving electricity. 

Walking in and putting the boxes against the black cabinets in the kitchen, she immediately fell in love with the space, her space. Despite already taking a tour of the apartment a few months prior to her official move in day, it felt different being there for the second time because she now knew that this place was hers. She saw it in a different light, and she was already anticipating the memories she was going to make in her new home. The place was empty; and with every step and every noise from her mouth, the room would echo, and she loved it. There was something satisfying about the echo in an empty space that was hers, like she wanted to furnish the hell out of it, but at the same time, she didn’t mind the echo. 

“This is your new home.” Nathan put an arm around Luci’s shoulder. He got a bit emotional seeing his baby sister grow up and move away from home, but he was excited for all of the experiences and memories she was going to make. Luci looked up at him, not saying anything but smiling as she was speechless. Nathan could practically feel the excitement run through her and all he did was chuckle at her speechlessness. “C’mon, let’s go get the rest of the boxes.” 

For the next fifteen minutes, Luci and Nathan hauled the boxes from the car, to the elevator, and down the hallway to her apartment. There were about four more boxes left in the trunk, and they would’ve been finished by now if they hadn’t been taking breaks. 

Nathan’s phone rang as he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the cabinets of the kitchen across from Luci who was sitting in the corner where her dining table would be. 

“Hello?” Answered Nathan. “What? Tonight? I’m in New York. I’m helping my little sister move here. Uh, okay. Sure. Bye.” He groaned, standing up. 

“Who was that?” Luci asked, nosy as she was. 

“That was one of the board members at Mass General Hospital.” Luci’s eyes widened. “They just asked me if I could come in tonight to teach and supervise the new residents.” Nathan was a general doctor working in the Emergency Room as Mass General back in Boston. He’s always wanted to teach with all the knowledge he’s stored in his brain—always wanting someone to learn a thing or two when they spoke to him, and this was his chance. 

“Holy shit, that’s amazing, Nate!” Luci stood up, excited for him.

He started to breathe a bit heavily and Luci immediately took notice; she could practically feel the nerves coming out of him, the same nerves she felt while going in for an audition. “Yeah, I actually have to leave, like, right now.” 

“Hey, hey.” She quickly stopped him from running out of the building and out of his mind. “Come here—breathe with me for a second.” She held onto his wrists gently. 

“Luci, I have to-”

He pulled away, but she tugged him back. “You’re going to drive yourself through the highway, and who knows what will happen, you might get pulled over and you won’t make it to the hospital. So, just take sixty seconds to breathe with me.” 

For the remainder of the time that they had together, they took some deep breaths. She spoke encouraging and uplifting words to him to calm down his nerves and anxieties that he seemed to drive himself over a cliff for, and it seemed to work as Nathan’s shoulder’s weren’t so tense and the grip on her hands had loosened. 

The two of them walked down to the parking garage where Nathan took down the last four boxes and placed them by the entrance of the complex. He was adamant on helping her get the last few boxes up to her apartment, but she shrugged it off, telling him that she was able to carry them and that he needed to leave because he’s most likely going to hit traffic during rush hour. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay? I mean it. I will drive here in a heartbeat.” 

“I will, I will-”

“Just not tonight,” he joked. “This is the highlight of my career.” His smile was so bright that it was like he was a little kid on Christmas again who just received a Hot Speed set from Santa. 

Luci laughed, hugging him goodbye. “And call me if you need anything too. I’ll miss seeing you everyday,” she admitted, a slight frown on her face. She thought she’d have the entire day with Nathan, but it was cut short due to his work but she wasn’t mad about that at all because she knew there'd be plenty of times when he would drive down to walk along the New York streets and see her perform. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, Ana. But I love you and I’ll see you next month!” He hurried into his car, and Luci watched him as he pulled out of the driveway, waving at the rear view mirror to say one last ‘see you later’ to his little sister. 

Walking back to the curb where all of the boxes were set, Luci picked one up to test how heavy it was and she barely made it upright without almost hurting her back, so she put the box down to take a proper breather. She decided to drag the box closer to the door of the complex—which saved her a few steps without completely dropping the box that was labeled ‘glass plates’—and pulled the handle of the door, only to find it completely locked. There was a slight panic that flew through her until she realized that she needed her keyless tag that she had to press against the pad on the wall to get inside the complex, so she blew out a sigh of relief before reaching down to her pocket for her key, and with just her luck, her keys weren’t in her pocket or with her at all. Then she started to panic again. 

Luci quickly walked out of the parking garage and to the front of the building where the leasing office was to find them closed, which was odd because it was Saturday, but apparently their servers were down so they just decided to take the entire day off. She rolled her eyes annoyingly, walking back to the garage in a fast manner because she didn’t want anyone to take her boxes, and so she figured that she could just wait until someone left the complex or arrived. She even left her phone at her place, so it wasn’t like she could call anyone to help her, but some sort of entertainment would help the time go by quicker. 

Sitting on the curb in the garage, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, and humming the melody from the Miss Saigon soundtrack, an hour goes by until she sees someone walk past the automatic gate barrier, heading towards the entrance where he opened the door with his tag. Luci sprinted towards the door, calling out for help. 

“Wait, wait!” The man turned around confusingly, taking his AirPod out of one ear. She caught up, taking deep breaths as she waved at the man. “Sorry, I’ve been out here for an hour and I completely forgot my key.” He didn’t say anything but stared at her, wondering why he’s never seen this woman before. The apartment complex really only had four floors, and he’s sure that he’s seen everyone who’s lived here. She noticed that he looked down at the boxes and back at her. “Oh, I just moved in.” He nodded more understandingly. “Do you mind holding the door for me?” 

“Sure.” Was the first thing he told her before stepping aside to hold the door. She took another deep breath, getting into the correct form so she doesn’t throw her back out, and began to lift the heavy box. He noticed her struggling, and he felt foolish for not offering his help in the first place when he noticed the four boxes on the cement. “Here, sorry, let me help with that. Get the door, yeah?” Luci’s heart flipped once she heard his deep, accented voice before she gratefully thanked him and he grabbed the box from her, replacing her hands with his and the slightest brush of their fingers made her flustered; he held the box tightly to his chest without much struggle. 

“Yeah, let me just get this one.” Luci grabbed a much lighter box that had all of her shoes, and held the door for him with her foot as he made his way inside of the building and to the elevator. He pressed the button with the arrow pointing up, and luckily, they didn’t have to wait for more than five seconds before the bell at the top chimed and the stainless steel doors opened. 

With the heavy box in his hands, he still let Luci walk in first, which made her smile and he followed in as she pressed with the bold ‘4’ printed on it. He held the box in between his chest and the other end of the bar on the wall as they waited in silence as the elevator lifted them up to her apartment floor, and she brushed past him when he lifted his arm, gesturing her to go first. 

Her front door was closed but it was unlocked, which only made sense, so she opened her door, putting the box next to the entrance and politely asking the man to put it next to the one you put down. 

“Thank you so much, really. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help.” 

“It’s no problem. I was the same when I moved here too—forgot my keys and was locked out.” He related to make her feel lighter about the situation since it was an honest mishap. 

“Did you go to the leasing office?” She asked curiously. 

“Yeah, but they were closed.” 

“They’re closed today too! It’s like they do that on purpose whenever someone new moves in.” The man chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. 

She hadn’t gotten a proper look at him since she was too distracted by trying to get into her building, but just by one real look at him, he was very attractive—probably too attractive to where she couldn’t think straight. He was wearing a pastel yellow and white striped button down that was a bit flowy and open, showing his white tank underneath that was tucked into his black skinny jeans. His tank top was low enough, exposing a patch of chest hair and his necklace that rested against his skin, in between his swallow tattoos just below his collarbones. Rings hugged his long fingers on both hands as he held two brown paper bags from Trader Joes. He was handsome, that’s for sure, and she felt like she was going to compare his beauty to all the other men that she was going to encounter in the future. 

“They’re not very good at going into work, but if you give them a call then it’s like they’re a 24/7 help center.” 

Luci nodded, chuckling. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“I’ll help you with the last boxes.” Before she was about to protest and tell him that he didn’t have to help her anymore because she was sure the last ones were light, he made his way towards the elevator and she quickly followed. 

To her surprise, one of the boxes was heavier than the other and she was glad that the man was able to carry it for her. They took the boxes up to her apartment, stacking it on top of the ones that were set down before she thanked him gratefully again. 

“I really appreciate all your help.” She smiled, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Not that I’m doubting your strength or anything, but how were you supposed to get those boxes up to your apartment?” He asked softly, not wanting to offend her by his words. 

“Oh, my brother was supposed to help me, but he had to go back home for an emergency at work.” The man nodded, seeming that was the most acceptable answer, not like he was searching if she was lying. “But thank you for your help. You’re a true lifesaver,” she said with a soft smile on her face. Her tone was a bit flirty than she wanted it to be, but it naturally came out. 

“It’s not a problem. I’ll see you around.” Luci hadn’t closed her door yet, but she found out that he was literally her neighbor on the opposite side of the wall. He didn’t even have to take two steps to get to his place—all he had to do was turn around and he was home. She smiled at the thought of that, glad that her neighbor was already so kind to her. 

As he was fumbling with his keys, he eventually got his door unlocked, and Luci was itching to ask what his name was—maybe make her first friend during her first day living in the big city. The man felt his neighbor's eyes on him, burning through the back of his head, so he turned around at the same time she spoke. 

“Uh, hey,” Luci called out. He was looking over his shoulder, pursing his lips as he raised his brows. “I was wondering if…you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? Y’know, to thank you for all your help and practically saving me while I was stranded.” She chuckled, playing with the tips of her fingers as she looked at him with hope. 

He thought the invitation was nice, but…“It’s okay, really. I, uh, have plans already tonight,” he admitted honestly because he doesn’t make a habit of being dishonest. 

Luci had some thick skin—she grew it throughout the years, and she had always been pretty confident. So many people would think that she could handle rejection well because she’s auditioned for many roles in her lifetime, and had been rejected for most of those roles. But the rejection that her neighbor handed to her so respectfully and politely was one that hit her the most, and she didn't know why. 

Curling her lips into her mouth as she felt the pang of her heart sinking into her chest, she nodded and placed a small smile onto her face. 

“Have fun tonight, then. I’ll see you around.” She grinned, hiding the slight bit of pain that she felt. He nodded, walking inside his apartment as she was in her doorway as well. “Oh, I’m Luci, by the way.” She introduced herself, feeling like she should have done that ten minutes ago, but it had slipped her mind. 

The corner of the man’s mouth turned up into a sly smirk, and she nearly felt herself fall as she gripped the door handle tightly. It was enough to make the pain in her chest disappear, and all thoughts of the rejection that she would think about for the rest of the night vanished. 

“Nice to meet you, Luci. I’m Harry.” 

With that, Harry closed his door, putting a barrier between him and Luci, who was still standing in her doorway. She let out the longest sigh of her life, feeling like she’d been constricting herself from breathing properly for the last ten minutes. 

Luci closed her door and leaned against it, looking down at the boxes that were resting by her feet. She softly smiled, her cheeks were starting to get warm, and she was fully aware that Harry was the cause of it.

come talk to me about your thoughts and feelings! hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, thank you for reading <3 

ty to @sunflowers-styles​ for beta reading!

[pokegalla]

Boring

I stare at them in awe and complete confusion. I never thought in a lifetime, I’d meet my characters. It’s….odd. Starlet’s soul was as pretty as I imagined and she’s funny. Angel is more reserved but she’s pretty smart. And Lisa….er well from Pokémon is so energetic in her adventures. And bold….jeez. And Eliza is as mysterious as I made her, yet a little mischievous. Like a playful spirit.

I wander a bit until I found myself away from the groups and more to myself. I felt envious of them….I never really had confidence in myself so when I made my characters I….made them better. They are me yet then again they’re not. Improvements I guess of what I could be if I were….better.

“Lisa? Are you alright? Why are you alone?”

I turned to see Dream, a worried expression drawn over his face. That’s new….did he sense my feelings?

“I’m good Dream….just taking a walk,” I said hoping to avoid him.

“Oh how nice! May I join you?” Crap….how can I say no to that face? We ended up walking together until we found ourselves in a field of echo flowers.

“Wow….they’re even prettier in real life,” I said, crouching down to touch the petals. Dream also crouched down beside me. “….sorry if I’m being too boring.”

He looked surprised, “Boring? Why would you ever think that?” I opened my mouth to speak but stood quiet. Thoughts of a certain someone flashed in my mind.

“Why are you so boring?”

“You’re too sensitive”

“Oh you have an attitude”

I just quietly told him, “I guess because I’m probably the most boring Lisa.”

Dream tilted his head, “But….you’re not? I think you’re the most interesting Lisa.”

“How’s that,” I asked genuinely curious of his response.

“Well every version of you has a personality trait that you have. Your stubbornness, your knowledge, your mischievousness, and your humor….and you’re all of the above,” Dream said, “You adapt to situations pretty easily even with how strange it is. And your creativity is amazing! Even Ink is impressed.”

“Really….?” I said.

Dream nodded and smiled, “You always do your best for others….to help or to make them smile in their worst situations. I’m honored to have met you and I’ll do my best to protect you until you get home.”

I was stunned….no one’s ever said such sweet things before. I mean….it almost doesn’t feel real. Does he really mean it? Is that really how he sees me? Shit I’m really speechless….

“You didn’t have to say all that…” I said.

“I wanted to,” Dream reassured. Oh lord he gonna make me cry….it took all of my willpower to blink back tears. I peeked at him a bit and he was staring at me with a big smile. “Are you feeling better-“

I don’t know what came over me….but I quickly leaned in and gave him a small kiss on his cheekbone. His whole face glowed in a golden blush.

“Yeah….I’m feeling alright. Thank you so much.”

[thisisawonderfulusername]

let's save the world

season two, episode eight

five hargreeves x reader

summary: you have one final idea to get back to twenty-nineteen: finding yourselves

warnings: cursing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this took for fucking ever but i'm not even gonna apologize at this point because i'm ninety percent sure it will happen again. sorry in advanced. just be glad i did it, alright? anyways, please enjoy episode eight, i loved writing it, i don't know why i put it off for so long

“we were that close.” you whisper to yourself as you go up the stairs, “so close.”

the door to one of the rooms slams behind you as you quickly look through the cabinets, before finding a bottle of whiskey. the only thing you need right now.

you twist the cap off, tossing it to the side as you sit on the couch with a heavy sigh.

you can hear luther speaking as he presumably follows five up the steps, but you don’t focus too much on what he’s saying. something about making a new plan, which almost makes you laugh. no other plan would ever work, if this one didn’t. his family would never let that happen.

the door opens once again as five enters, slamming it shut and locking it before luther can come in behind him. “five!” the big man shouts outside of the door, knocking on it, “come to what?” a sigh follows shortly after, and you hear his steps recede, apparently giving up.

you look to five, holding the bottle out, “want some?”

when he takes it, you expect him to take a drink, not find the cap and twist it back on, “what are you doing?” he questions.

“what are you doing?” you shoot the question back, reaching for the bottle, “if you didn’t want any, you didn’t have to take it.”

he looks at you incredulously, holding it out of your reach, “we still have an apocalypse to stop! you can’t just be sitting in here drinking!”

at that, you let out a loud laugh, yet nothing about this is funny. “you’re kidding, right?” you raise an eyebrow, sinking into the cushions, “i’m done with that.”

setting the booze on the coffee table, his eyebrows furrow at you, “what do you mean? you can’t be done with it. we don’t have much time!”

“don’t you get it, five?” you lean forward as you look up at him, “we can’t stop this. no matter how hard we try, we’ll never be able to. there’s always something that gets in the way when we get seconds away from actually doing it. let’s face it, the world is against us, and this apocalypse is happening.” you sound defeated, and you hate hearing it. you never wanted to give up, to let the world get the best of you. it tried to before, and you persevered. but none of that matters anymore, because soon enough, you'll be nuked and your existence won't have mattered.

he’s shaking his head in disbelief, “no. no, it isn’t. you’re supposed to be the one helping me, y/n! we can still do it.”

“and what’s your plan this time? do you even have one?” you can feel the tears brimming your eyes, and you hate feeling this weak in front of him, but there was no stopping it now.

“i do.” he states, “but i need you to help me.”

sitting on the couch next to you, turned in your direction, he gently guides your eyes to his, his hand resting on your cheek. "i can't do this without you. i can't save the world if i don't have you to help me."

a tear escapes and you quickly wipe it away, sniffling as you gather yourself before you break down completely. "fine." you breathe.

-

you were currently in the kitchen, chugging down as much water as you could from a pitcher before passing it along to five. This plan was so, so stupid. he began to drink from it as well, and luther, who had been napping on the couch, entered.

“five, what…” he glances between the two of you, you putting baby powder anywhere on your body you deemed necessary, and to him, taking in a breath as he flipped the top closed on the pitcher. “are you guys okay?” he questions in confusion.

“we need to be hydrated.” he breathes out, and you hand him the baby powder once you were finished.

if it was possible, luther’s confusion grew, “what’s with the baby powder?”

“it’ll help with the itching.” you state, giving no further explanation.

“what itching? there’s itching? what the hell is going on here?” as five puts some of the powder in his pants, realization dawns on his face, “you do have a plan.”

grabbing his blazer, five sighs, “well, it’s a desperation move, but… since our brain-dead siblings are incapable of meeting a simple deadline, well- we have no choice.”

“no choice about what?” you follow him into the living room, flipping the watch you stole from the formerly sleeping man- since he no longer needed it- open.

“we have to find ourselves.”

luther is so stunned, trying to process it, that he doesn’t speak. “we just arrived in dallas fifteen minutes ago.” you state, closing the watch and sticking it back in your pocket.

“should i be worried about you guys?” luther finally asks, his eyebrows furrowing at the two of you.

“luther, if you recall,” five speaks as he begins to stretch, “we were sent to nineteen sixty-three on a job by the commission to make sure the president was assassinated.”

“oh!” luther starts to understand, “so, wait, your old self is out there.”

“precisely.”

“what, just walking around dallas?”

“walking around dallas with a briefcase that can get us home.” you tell him with a smile. now, if this plan didn’t work, you were truly screwed. of course, the older looking versions of yourselves won’t give up the briefcase so easily, but you know for a fact you can do it. and with that briefcase, there wouldn’t be a time limit. you could gather all of the siblings together and finally be rid of the apocalypse. maybe, just maybe, it will be the last that you have to deal with.

“oh, my god.” luther’s hands come together in front of him, “you are geniuses.”

“however, there are two significant problems with this plan.” five tells him, you nodding along, “problem number one: we are two trained assassins, arguably the most dangerous assassins in the space-time continuum. If we know ourselves, we’re not going to react kindly to bumping into us.”

you knew it sounded like you were giving yourselves a pat on the back, but he wouldn’t be saying it if it wasn’t true. and it definitely was.

“problem number two,” he paces, “this is the real fly in the ointment here: you’re not supposed to exist in close proximity to yourself in the same timeline. the side effects can be disastrous.”

luther seems as if he’s trying to process all of this, “side effects? what sort of side effects?”

“well, according to commission handbook chapter twenty-seven, subsection three-b, the seven stages in paradox psychosis are…”

“stage one: denial.” you begin counting off on your fingers,

“two: itching.” five looks to his brother,

“three: extreme thirst and urination,”

“four: excessive gas,”

“five: acute paranoia,”

“six: uncontrolled perspiration,”

“and seven:” you pause for a moment, dropping your hands, “homicidal rage.”

“homicidal rage?” luther questions, to which both of you confirm, “jeez, i don’t know. this maybe isn’t such a good idea.”

five begins to pace again, throwing his arms to the side, “it’s a hail mary. but what choice do we got, luther?”

leaning against the door frame, the large man shrugs, “i don’t know, you already seem a bit squirrely if i’m being honest.”

“listen luther, we’re gonna need you to help us get through this one, alright?” you stand in front of him, “we need… a spotter.”

“a spotter?”

“yeah,” you breathe out.

his eyebrows furrow, “what is that, like a wingman?”

“in case the paradox psychosis gets too severe,” five strides over, “we need you to help us stay on task, alright? so whatever happens, whatever we say, we need to get that briefcase. okay?”

“okay,” luther breathes.

“okay.” your shoulders relax.

both you and five turn and make your way to the steps, and you barely realize that luther is still at the doorway, staring in front of him. “luther, come on!”

“right.”

-

there’s an irish jig playing as you enter the bar, and chatter fills the air between the people inside, sitting at tables and at the stools along the bar countertop. you look around, skimming over all of the people, until you see them. or- you and five. it’s weird, seeing the older looking woman who sat next to the older looking five. you barely recognized them, since you had been looking at your thirteen year old selves for a while now.

“there we are.” five has spotted them as well. sitting at the bar, the briefcase on the raised wood that acted as a footrest between the two older versions of you.

“why don’t we just grab the briefcase and run?” luther asks.

“luther, we would never let that happen.” you tell him, looking up at him for a second, “we’re trained to guard those briefcases with our lives.”

“right.”

“plus, it’s the inherent paradox where this gets tricky.” five adds in. “we’re endangering our existence just being in the same room with ourselves.”

“huh? what do you mean?”

you roll your eyes, “luther, keep up. if our old selves don’t travel back to twenty-nineteen like we’re supposed to, the whole thing unravels itself. we cease to exist. got it?”

“i… got it.” he doesn’t seem to, but you decide not to try to explain further and confuse him even more.

“so our best chance is to talk with them, to reason with them.” five rolls his shoulders back, “they’ll understand. trust me. i know us better than… better than i know us.” the sentence is confusing, but the point gets across.

as five reaches up to scratch his neck, luther is quick to point it out, “that’s stage two of paradox psychosis.” he whispers urgently.

“no, i didn’t.” five states, “i didn’t itch my neck.”

“denial is stage one.” the large man points out.

“let’s stay on task, shall we?” you wave towards the two of you sitting at the bar, and as you’re about to step forward, luther reaches his hand out to stop you.

“wait!” you look at him in a mix of confusion and annoyance, “maybe i should go first.”

“why?” five asks him, also confused.

“well, you’ll freak them out.” he motions at the two of you, “bumping into your own tiny doppelganger? they’ll lose their shit.” he looks to the older versions of you, “just, let me break the ice.”

five glances around, sighing, “okay.”

“okay.” luther breathes out slowly, and you watch as he approaches the two older yous. you’re not sure if you can trust him one hundred percent.

as he begins to speak, the two of you very quickly get confused and on guard. meanwhile, you unconsciously grab hold of five’s hand to approach. “nope! don’t freak out. no freak-outs. alright.”

as the large man slowly steps to the side, you see yourself- your old self- tense up at the sight of younger looking you. “hey there, stranger.” your five speaks up, and the two older yous are almost shaking in their shoes from the shock and confusion.

you swear you see fear in your own eyes. it’s a look you remember seeing when you first landed back in twenty-nineteen and looked in the mirror at the you that had gotten stuck in the apocalypse. the you that was stuck alone for years until the commission brought you back to five. it was jarring to you as well, at first.

you remember staring into your own eyes. the little girl who had held five’s hand as he discovered the full extent of his powers, until it disappeared from her grasp and she was left in a smoldering, crumbling world.

-

the five of you had gotten a table, and you sat across from your older self, gaze unwavering. out of the corner of your eye, you could see the two fives glaring at each other.

“well, isn’t this nice?” luther breaks the silent tension, “the five of us, together like this.”

“no.” all four of you speak in unison, and luther is clearly uncomfortable, almost squirming in his seat.

the old five doesn’t look away from himself as he begins to speak, “somebody explain to me how it is i’m having a pint of guinness with my younger self.”

“older, actually.” the five sitting next to you states, “i’m you, just fourteen days older.”

“i have pubic hair smarter than you.” the other you says coldly, her fingers laced together on the table in front of her, “how’s that possible?”

“i can explain,” the younger seeming boy responds, “you see, one hour from now, on the grassy knoll, before the president is killed, you break your contract with the commission.” he leans forward slightly, “i already know you’re thinking about it. all those years in the apocalypse, we never stopped worrying about our family. well today, you’re going to do something about it.” he sits up straighter.

“today, you are going to attempt to time travel back to twenty-nineteen. however, you are going to screw up the jump, and end up in this twip of a body.” he points to himself with his two thumbs. “trapped forever, small, pubescent.”

“okay.” the older one finally breaks his stare, shaking in his seat, “even if i was to believe you, what am i supposed to do, not jump?”

“no, no.” you break away from the eyes of yourself, “we need you to jump. if you don’t jump, we cease to exist.” you motion between yourself and your five, “what we need is for you to jump correctly.”

“i’m listening.”

“the first time through, i got the calculation wrong. that’s how we ended up in these bodies.” five begins to explain, “but now, i know the correct calculation.”

the other is almost on the edge of his seat in anticipation, “what is it?”

“he’ll tell you.” you tell him, causing his gaze to turn to you instead, “in exchange for the briefcase you’re holding under the table.”

“yeah, yeah.” luther speaks up from where he’s sitting, “so now, you go back to twenty-nineteen, as planned, but this time with the right math, so you remain a full grown man. in exchange for that briefcase that you no longer need.” he points to the space between the older yous where it rests, a smile on his face.

“timeline restored, paradox resolved.” five speaks, “everyone goes on, existing happily ever after.”

the older you finally breaks her silence, “that’s quite a bit to take in.”

everyone’s heads turn towards her, “what do you think?” five asks, glancing between the two of them.

“i think,” older five says, “i need to piss.” he promptly states, standing from his seat and grabbing the briefcase, heading in the direction of the bathrooms. older you quickly looks between all of you, before also standing up and heading in that direction as well. you have a feeling that they’ll be discussing the situation at hand.

once they disappear down the hall where the bathrooms are, luther breaks the short silence that fell between the three of you. “well, besides the flop sweat, i think that went pretty well, right?” you had barely noticed, but there was, in fact, beads of sweat on your face, and you grabbed one of the napkins to wipe it away while luther patted one to five’s face.

“no, there’s something…” five fidgets in his seat, “something doesn’t feel right about this.”

luther is confused, which you’ve noticed happens a lot. “what… what do you mean?”

agreeing with five’s sentiment, you shake your head, “i don’t trust them.”

“but… they’re you.” he states in confusion.

“exactly.” the two of you speak in unison.

“well… i’m going to go to the bathroom too… maybe talk to him?” it’s more of a question as he stands up before quickly scurrying away.

“they’re planning something.” you state, leaning back in your seat as you scratch the back of your neck.

nodding, five takes a drink from his glass, “we have to be ready for whatever it is. we’re dangerous.”

“very.”

-

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs @andreasworlsboring101​ @lunylovelovegood

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty @avovada @badwolf00593

let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath @ot7purple @purblerain @megasimpleplan4ever @whenyouregrungeaff @dumdumsun @malfovs @hxney-lemcn @frnks-stuff @imwaytootires @avovada @badwolf00593 @dumdumsun @zero2461

[ibuki-loves-you]

Hello Mod Ibuki! Huhu I really did cry when I read "Killed for a Hopeful Future" :(( Poor bagel had to go through that. So, if you're alright with it, could you write an alternate ending where Nagito and S/O wake up from their pods and really do spend their future together :'))? Jzgszb the tears ain't gonna stop flowing without fluff--

Have a nice day btw <33! I absolutely love your writing! Could I be Avocado anon :0?

Killed for a Hopeful Future [Part 2] (Nagito x Reader)

Warnings: None

Mod Ibuki: I'm sorry I made you cry wahhh!! Thank you for the compliments! And of course! Heya avocado anon! Hope you have a nice day!

This was also written with @call-me-ko !

Nagito looked up, his greenish grey eyes opening slightly. Green semi-clear glass was the only thing in his peripheral vision. Confused thoughts filled his mind as he reached his unnaturally pale hands towards the glass pushing it open slightly.

Fresh air engulfed him as he opened the green tinted glass that kept him contained in the coffin shaped pod. He slowly sat up, keeping his guard up.

‘Where am I?’ Nagito thought. He looked around, taking note of his surroundings.

“Nagito!” A voice called. Nagito whipped his head around. A figure ran towards him, a smile adoring their features.

‘Y/N…’ Nagito nearly jumped out of the pod, rushing towards them.

Y/N ran into his arms, nearly tackling him in a hug. Nagito smiled brightly, picking them up and twirling them around for a moment. Nagito set them down and rested his forehead against theirs, pressing a soft kiss to their nose as he did so.

“Angel, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” Nagito breathed out, tightening his grip on their waist. Y/N giggled and pressed their forehead impossibly further into his, causing Nagito to let out a giggle of his own.

“I’m just as happy, Nagi.” Y/N sighed happily. Nagito smiled and tilted his face, hovering his lips over theirs, silently asking for consent. Y/N leaned up and connected their lips in response, slowly wrapping their arms around his neck.

Y/N pulled back for a brief moment, only to lean back and kiss him again, except this time it was much shorter.

Nagito let out a content sigh. “I love you, so much.” He said softly. Y/N grinned and kissed his nose. “I love you too, bub.”

Y/N turned their head, noticing other pods opening. Hajime was the first one out, then Kazuichi. The others were soon to follow.

Hajime looked over at the two and gave a comforting smile and wave. Nagito waved back and returned his smile, Y/N doing the same.

“Looks like everyone is waking up.” Y/N pointed out. Nagito frowned for a brief moment, remembering what had happened. The murder, the breakdown, the videos, everything. Y/N noticed and furrowed their eyebrows.

“Nagito?” They asked. He hummed in response. “Why that reaction?” Y/N asked. Nagito looked down at his lover and sighed.

“When you died, I did some bad things.” He mumbled guiltily. Nagito looked up at some of their friends, noticing even they looked a little scared of him. Y/N followed his gaze and noticed their facial expressions.

“What did you do?” Y/N asked softly. Nagito closed his eyes. He really didn’t want to tell them. He thought it would drive them away, hell maybe even make them scared of him.

“I killed Nekomaru so I would get executed.” Nagito mumbled again. Y/N looked across the room at Nekomaru. He was also looking at Nagito, but not a look of fear or anger. He smiled at the two and gave them a big thumbs up.

“Nagito!” Nekomaru boomed. Nagito’s head snapped up. He met Nekomaru’s stare. Nekomaru smiled again.

“I would’ve done the same thing for Akane, I don’t blame you for losin’ your shit, alright!?” Nekomaru admitted, an encouraging smile still plastered on his face. Nagito let out a sigh of relief, mouthing a thank you to him, to which he responded with another thumbs up.

Y/N softly grabbed Nagito’s chin and titled his face so he could look at them. “You realize that still doesn’t make it right, right?” Nagito gulped, nodding vigorously.

Y/N reached up and gently slapped the back on his head, earning a surprised yelp from him. They did it two more times, Nagito contemplating whether he should laugh or not.

“Bad Nagito, bad.” Y/N reprimanded. Nagito raised his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know, it was wrong.” Y/N paused for a moment. They reached behind his head and slapped one more time.

“I said I was sorry!” Nagito giggled out. “Doesn’t matter! You deserved that!” Y/N exclaimed, a laugh of their own following.

Y/N wrapped their warm arms around their partner and pulled him closer to them once again. Nagito rested his head in the crook of Y/N’s neck, breathing in their familiar scent.

”I'm so glad that I got to see you again… I thought I would never get to hold you in my arms, love.”

Nagito chuckled the same laugh that Y/n loved so much as he lifted his head up and softly kissed Y/N’s forehead, earning a loving smile in return.

“Well aren't you guys love birds! I wish Miss Sonia was like that to me…” A certain pink haired mechanic sulked as his eyes switched from the loving couple to the blonde princess that clung to the Ultimate Breeder.

Y/N giggled and pressed their forehead against Nagito’s, a smile adoring their features.

“I love you…” Y/N whispered. Nagito let a small smile of his own pass through his lips. “I love you too, angel.”

“Jeez, I still can't believe that happened years ago…” An older version of Y/N laughed. Their arms and legs were tangled up with their fiance’s.

“We’ve changed so much haven’t we...“ Nagito mumbled into the top of his future spouse’s head, but quickly removed his head to look into Y/N’s eyes.

“Yeah love, we really have.” Y/N whispered. They looked at the clock on their nightstand. “We should probably go to sleep. It's late, and we don't wanna wake our daughter up.” Y/N mentioned, closing their eyes and smushing their face into Nagito’s chest. Nagito hummed in agreement.

“Hey, Y/N?” Nagito mumbled. "Yes?" Y/N responded, muffled by his chest.

“We should go to the park tomorrow.” Nagito suggested. Y/N giggled and nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Goodnight, angel.” Nagito said sleepily, placing a soft kiss on their head. “Goodnight, Nagi.” The pair slowly drifted off to sleep, happily in each other’s arms.

[shreddedparchment]

A World of Our Own Pt.06

Broken Hearts

09/20/2020

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 6,012

Warnings: violence, blood, suggestive themes, language

A/N: I’ve been so excited for this chapter for so long. Probably just one or two more chapters after this. I hope you enjoy it! If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Ryan’s chuckle is infectious, and you can’t help but laugh along with him as he leans over to stoke the flames of your campfire.

It’s warm. Cozy by the roaring ocean waves that bring with it a cool briny breeze.

“Don’t laugh at me. It was very traumatizing.” Ryan demands, putting the large stick he’s been using to poke the fire aside before leaning back against new palm logs that he and Bucky had chopped for seating.

Even though you’re meant to sit on them, all of you seem to prefer to sit on blankets you’d stitched together from clothing too worn to use anymore.

“I feel bad for the shark. It has probably never seen a naked man before in its life and you’re out here dangling your bits all over its face.” You tease, shaking your head as if you really disapprove of him.

“Wha-?!” Ryan gasps, mouth wide open as he struggles to find a comeback.

“I was mindin’-” he takes a lengthy pause. “-mah own business-”

He places his hand on his chest as he pauses again, the wheels in his brain working quickly to come up with his excuse.

“-when this very large an’ scary fish comes out of the depths an’ charges me. I was the one scrambling ta get back ta shore. I was the one who was given a heart attack. Not the bloody shark!”

“Well, why were you swimming so far out?” You ask him, chuckling again and feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment at the memory of watching him run out of the water screaming at the top of his lungs, “Shark! Shark! Shark!” completely naked.

You’re not ashamed to say that there was nothing there that wasn’t worth looking at, but it was only an afterthought that you now think of as opposed to noticing in the moment.

You’d turned around instantly and gasped, completely confused as to why he was running towards you naked until you’d heard what he was saying.

“Should I start the fish?” Ryan asks, reaching for the folded leaves beside him where you’d put the cleaned fish when the sun had still been out.

It’s very obvious that Ryan isn’t answering your question.

Both you and Bucky have been watching him closely over the past month, since he’d first shown up completely wet, wondering where it is that he goes when he swims.

It wouldn’t make you so suspicious if he weren’t randomly disappearing when he takes these swims. He waits until you and Bucky are busy, distracted, then wanders off without a word.

Bucky has made you swear not to follow him, afraid of what Ryan might be capable of if he is up to something and is suddenly caught.

Problem is Bucky also refuses to leave you alone anymore, so he doesn’t get to tail Ryan either.

Until Ryan chooses to answer your question, neither of you will ever know where he goes.

“Sure.” You nod, then reach to place the metal sheet that Bucky had made for cooking food without having to deal with embers and ash on the fish.

Ryan separates each fish into one leaf on its own then places them on the thin sheet so that they might bake.

The two of you work in silence for a bit, sitting across the fire from each other, you steal glances at him, and he returns each look. He smiles, his expression kind and so trustworthy that you think in moments like these that you and Bucky might be wrong about him.

“Ryan?” You begin, hesitant.

He smiles to encourage you.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He nods, smile vanishing as his face becomes a little more serious. Confused as to why you think you have to ask.

“Why don’t you talk about your son?” You wonder, now having said the words your mouth keeps going. “You drop this bomb and then never mention him again. I wasn’t sure whether you didn’t want to talk about him, so I never asked. If you’d prefer not to, I understand. There are things I’d rather not talk about to. Everyone is entitled to their secrets. I just—a kid is such a big part of who you are, right? Not the only part of you, obviously but he’s your son. You must think about him all the time.

“Who did you leave him with? He must miss you so much. I’m so sorry that you’re stuck here, with us, instead of home with your boy.” You sigh, and your breath shudders.

You smile at him awkwardly, realizing you’ve rambled on nervously.

“Sorry.” You offer, “I kinda just go off when I’m nervous.”

Ryan’s face is the picture of relaxation, however. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t look upset that you’ve asked.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and you’re certain that he’s going to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it, but then… “To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t really sure that you or Bucky cared to know about Conor.”

“His name is Conor?” You gasp, smiling already like an idiot as you start to imagine a mini version of Ryan. Sandy blonde hair, lovely eyes, light skin.

“Aye, wee tyke is only five but when he talks to you, he sounds much older.” Finally, he smiles, the admiration of a father pouring out of him as he thinks about his little boy.

“Does he look like you or his mother?” You wonder, eager for details now that he’s talking.

“He looks like his mother. Almost my exact opposite. Dark hair and skin. Perhaps a bit lighter than his mother but he’s her spittin’ image. Dark eyes too. Just as beautiful.” Ryan says, a bit more forlorn than before.

Your own smile falters, wondering if maybe he and Conor’s mother are no longer together? Jeez, you really hope that he isn’t still married and flirting with you the way he has been. Not that you blame him being stuck on an island with no other women, but still.

Ryan seems like the type of man to devote himself completely.

“Is she-?” You offer, just to see if he’d like to open up.

He meets your gaze, holding it for a long moment before he tilts his head a little as he makes his choice quickly.

“Grace died. Just after giving birth to Conor. Conor almost went with her, but he pulled through and we have made a go of it, I think.” He gives you another smile. “I think he’s happy. Or was, before all this.”

“I’m so sorry, Ryan. I’m sure Conor loves and appreciates you very much.” His story is tragic, and your heart truly breaks for him.

“Thank you. Gettin’ back to him is the only thing that matters now.” He nods, looking more at ease. “It feels good to talk about them if I’m honest. I havin’ really spoken about it ta anyone other than mah parents. That’s who Conor is with, by the way. You were wonderin’ earlier.”

“You can always talk to me. About anything.” You assure him.

His smile grows wider and any sorrow left in his eyes vanishes as he looks down at the cooking fish before giving his head a minute shake.

“What?” You ask, your own voice shaking with the hint of laughter at the amused expression on his face.

“I was just thinkin’ about how unfortunate it is that you’re taken now. You would have made him a proper step-mom maybe.” His bold words stun you.

At a loss for what to say, you can only seem to focus on the way your neck begins to burn.

Ryan clearly enjoys watching you squirm for the two second that he has to do so before Bucky’s voice breaks the tension.

“Keep that up and you’ll lose your room.” Bucky warns, a playful note in his voice but really you can hear how serious he is.

“I just got it.” Ryan protests, looking towards the hut down the beach.

Bucky worked so hard on the build, elevated and sturdy with each brick placed with care and somewhat expert precision. The gambrel roof, which Bucky chose so that you could use the extra space to hang clothes and food away from where animals might find them, is tall and thatched with the fronds you’d worked so hard to tear and resew to keep the hut safe from the elements.

The hut is split in two down the center with two entrances. When you face the hut, the left side of it is taken by Ryan, a flight of bamboo stairs leading up to the curtained entrance. The right side belongs to you and Bucky.

“Stop flirting with my girl then, and I’ll let you keep it.” Bucky threatens, this time it’s clear he means it.

Ryan holds up his hands in defeat as you turn to devour you freshly bathed Bucky. In jeans and a t-shirt, he looks almost as if he’s ready to begin his day but instead of being productive he drops his dirty clothes into the handmade basket you’d woven with the extra strips of palm fronds then moves towards you. He takes hold of your face, tilting it back so that you might look up at him.

He leans down to look at you, smiling pleasantly.

“Hi.” He tells you, voice deep and penetrating.

“Hi.” You reply. “You smell good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans down and kisses you, lips so sweet and fresh you could really just do this all night. He holds it for a few moments before he begins pushing you to scoot forward.

You move as he wants you to, looking back at him as he sits himself behind you, legs spread wide before he pulls you back to sit between his legs which he props up on either side of you. His arms wrap around your stomach and while your happiness quadruples with this unyielding affection he seems to shower on you lately, you can’t help but notice the way Ryan looks away, a small twinge of bitterness in his expression.

It’s just the island. You tell yourself, certain that if you all weren’t stuck here, you wouldn’t be so lucky as to hold the attention of two very beautiful men.

Although you’re certain, you can’t help but wonder if Ryan really does like you. Is it possible?

~~~~~~~~~~

Time doesn’t stop. Not for you stuck on this island. Not for Bucky, torn from the promise of a new life. Not for Ryan who misses his son and is losing more and more time with him. With time is taken all hope that you’ll ever be rescued but the three of you refuse to speak the words aloud.

In silence, there is the illusion of hope and you cannot afford to let it go.

Days roll into weeks and the three of you try to keep your spirits up. It’s easier for you and Bucky, you assume. Finally, being with him has changed very little and so much all at once.

The biggest change is your sleeping arrangements. The hut has been built for a while now. Two months it feels like, going on three. Six months going on seven since you three have been trapped here.

With the hut came privacy, the adobe wall that splits it in two gives you and Bucky the luxury of cuddling as you used to in the fuselage without the worries of being accidentally disturbed.

Because of this, in the morning Bucky’s warm kisses trail along your cheeks, your neck, onto your collarbone raising tingles in all the right places before he finds his way up to your lips.

His arms wrap themselves around you as hey lays himself over you and you raise your leg to hold him close.

“Good morning.” He whispers and your eyes open, devouring the beautiful image of him. Clean and dry. Not a drop of sweat on his perfect skin whereas your own is dewy and you’re in need of a morning swim.

“Good morning.” You whisper, your body burning for him.

It doesn’t help that you can feel him pressed against your thighs, stiff and awake with the morning.

With your lips suddenly dry, you run your tongue along them, wetting them as your breath hitches when he rolls his hips from side to side as he adjusts himself over you.

You know that he doesn’t mean it to make your blood boil, but it does and you snake your hands down to his waist before your fingers worm their way underneath his t-shirt and gently tickle his smooth skin.

“What are you doing?” He asks you, a smile in his voice as he raises an eyebrow but hold you closer.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, licking your lips again.

He huffs a laugh, cool air raising goosebumps along your neck.

“I think you know.” He counters, amused by your attempt to seduce him.

“Then why ask?” You reach down, sliding your hand down underneath the waistband of his underwear, breath catching in your throat at the swell of his bum.

“Y/N,” He pleads, a small hint of a chastising tone to his words. “We can’t.”

“But I want to.” You whimper, tired of begging. It’s been so long since the two of you have been together. For what feels like forever now.

“So, do I, kitten. Trust me.” He wiggles his hips, probably just trying to get comfortable but he inadvertently eggs you on, proves his point by pressing his erection against you—accidentally of course.

“Then…” You try it even though you know he’ll say no. Even though this argument has failed so many times. “…I can just-I’ll give you something and you don’t have to give me anything back.”

“I could never do that.” He argues, his face contorting a bit more. The hints of anger rising.

“Then we can just stop there, Bucky. We’ve got control, don’t we? I wanna suck your co-”

“Jesus, Y/N.” Bucky rolls off of you, sitting at the edge of the low bed with his elbows on his knees as he looks across the hut to the opposite wall, his breathing a little heavy.

You sit up, blinking away the tears of rejection because you know he doesn’t mean it in that way. You know what his worry is because it’s you’re worry too.

“I’m sorry.” You move up behind him, hugging him around his chest and resting your cheek against his solid back.

The rapid rate of his heart tells you how much he wants you even if he can’t see to let himself show it. You take solace in that as you splay your hands on his chest, breathing in the scent of the coconut oil you’d infused into the handmade soap you’d worked on several weeks ago.

“I…you know that we can’t.” He frets, still upset.

“I do.” You shake your head. “I’m just-”

He hears the sob trapped in your throat and he turns so quickly you nearly fall over but he’s there, holding you tight against his chest, hands caressing the back of your head as the other wraps around your shoulders.

“I want you, kitten. Believe me. I do. If I could be sure that we wouldn’t mess up…You were the one that set this boundary.” He reminds you, pulling back to look at you as shame overcomes you.

He’s right of course. You’d told him that you didn’t want to sleep with him until the two of you could be sure that you wouldn’t get pregnant. Not here. Not on this island. There was too much that could go wrong. Too much danger for a baby, not to mention birthing one here with no doctors in case something went wrong.

No, you couldn’t do it and so you’d both agreed.

But…

“I didn’t think we’d still be here.” You huff, burying your face into his chest to hide your embarrassment.

Bucky breathes a little more lightly, almost laughing again at the shift. This conversation has gone from up to down and right back up.

“I know, babe.” He whispers, resting his chin on your head as he strokes your back with both hands. “To be honest, my patience is also wearing thin.”

You pull back quickly, searching to get a look at his eyes to see if he might be lying. He isn’t and it does make you feel better that you aren’t the only one struggling with this abstinence.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to wait.” He confesses.

“Me neither.” You sigh. “But you already knew that.”

His face breaks into a smile and you’re calm again, happy to see that beautiful expression on his handsome face. Silver blue eyes all crinkled at the corners.

You reach up to touch his hair, giving it a decent appraisal. “You need another cut.”

“I think we should go shorter this time.” He nods.

“Like a little higher than your chin?” You touch the spot, but Bucky shakes his head.

“No, I mean, short.”

You gasp. “Bucky, I don’t think I trust myself to do that.”

“I trust you.” He counters but you shake your head.

Nope. You’re not going to risk butchering his lovely locks.

“I won’t do it, Barnes.” You frown.

“Stubborn ass.” He glowers.

“Fuck you.” You retort.

“Not yet.” He teases.

“I hate you!” You spit at him, because you can already see the laugh coming at that unfair statement and you shove away from him, moving towards the clothes you’ve got packed in one of the salvaged suitcases to pull out your favorite pair of jean shorts and a plain red t-shirt.

He’s laughing as you dress and doesn’t stop when you’re gone.

Making your way down to the campfire, you search for Ryan, half expecting to find him cooking fish for breakfast but he’s nowhere to be found.

As Bucky joins you, dressed in the same t-shirt with his own favorite pair of jeans on, you place your hands on your hips and look towards the stretch of water where the cockpit had once been visible.

It seems to have sunk to the floor now that the tide has risen and fallen so many times, taking the plane with it.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky wonders, lifting his foot onto the trough he’s been mixing more clay in again, working on something secret that he refuses to let you in on just yet.

“I’ll tell you when it’s relevant. Right now, it’s just a precaution. Trust me, okay? If I need to bring it up, I will.” Then he’d gone back to lining the outside of the hut with metal sheets from the plane before sealing them over with clay.

He laces up his boot but watches you as he works.

“He’s gone again.” You shake your head.

“He hasn’t tried anything.” Bucky ponders. “If he was going to hurt us, he would have done it by now.”

“I know, it’s just…” You bite your lip.

“He is hiding something.” Bucky agrees, this conversation having played out so many times. “But I think he also wants some distance from us. We’re probably annoying to be around.”

“We’re not that bad anymore.” You argue.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky whispers, his lips suddenly at your ear.

He kisses it, slipping your lobe into his mouth as your eyes shut to the pleasure the gesture raises.

“You’re not making this any easier.” You sigh but turn to look at him and without hesitation pull him down to meet your lips with his own.

The kiss is a frenzy, heated and eager as your hands grope and cling as Bucky’s also press and pull against the flesh of your hips and ass leaving burning bruises behind.

Out here where you might get caught is the safest place to be this affectionate. Where you can’t take this any further than this passionate kiss.

“Do ya really have ta do that so early in the mornin’?” Ryan’s voice cuts in, interrupting just as you both intend.

Bucky pulls away first, letting the smack of your kiss echo before giving you one devilish grin then marching back to the trough.

“Sorry.” You turn to Ryan, hoping your expression is rightly chastised. “Fish?”

Ryan holds it up to indicate his catch then moves towards you to hand it over for cleaning.

You settle down beside him on your usual stump, pulling out your makeshift knives and gut the fish with the precision of someone who’s done this everyday for half a year. Ryan gets to building a new fire, gathering as much of the ash for you as he can for when you decide to make more soap.

While you work, you watch him, stealing glances at the subtle downturn to the corners of his lips.

The longer he works the more he seems to wallow.

Once the fish is settled over the fire, you turn in your spot to focus your attention on him.

“What?”

Slightly startled, he turns to you with wide eyes, all traces of the depression he’s been in gone.

“What?” He sounds confused.

“What’s the matter with you?” You clarify.

“Oh.” He sighs and shakes his head.

You know you can guess. “Conor?”

“Aye, Conor.” The sadness returns to his face and your heart gives a painful lurch for him.

He must miss his son so much.

“He’s probably startin’ school this month.” He laments, stoking the fire.

“It’s his first year?”

“Aye, I hope he isn’t scared.” Ryan hopes.

“I’m sure he’s just as brave as his dad.” You offer in comfort, giving Ryan as kind a smile as you can muster.

“We’ll get off this island, Ryan. Someone will come. Even if it’s by accident. Even if it’s years from now. You’ll be with Conor again.” You hope, because even though you want it to be a promise, you don’t know.

Ryan’s face contorts, agony ripping through him for one quick second before he meets your gaze and reaches out to take hold of your hand.

“I think…” Bucky begins from the trough, Ryan’s hand freezing mere inches from your own.

He takes it back and clears his throat, the look of pain vanishing from his handsome face before he looks to Bucky just as you do.

Bucky’s gaze is focused on the horizon, the ocean waves unnaturally gentle. It’s a beautiful day.

“What is it babe?” You call, trying to pull Bucky out of his thoughts.

He turns his furrowed brow back to the two of you, “I think we might have to move to the cave. Soon.”

“The cave?” You rise, glancing at the fish to make sure they’re not burning. “The one Ryan was in when he landed?”

Ryan sits back, a perplexed gaze fixed on Bucky.

“Yeah. Do you think you can show me where it is?”

“Why would ya need to go there?” Ryan reaches out to stoke the fire once again, pulling his gaze away from you both.

“Bucky?” You worry, moving towards him as he straightens up and wipes his hands clean to take your hand as you reach him.

“We won’t need to go there yet.” He assures you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist to pull you into his side. “It’s just a precaution.”

“A precaution against what?”

“It’s hurricane season. The hut is…I’m not exactly an architect. I’ve done what I can with what we have but that hut is not meant to withstand a hurricane. When it comes down to it, we might be able to take shelter in the fuselage if we have to but with the three of us, the cave might be a better option. How did you hold up in the caves during that first storm?” Bucky gestures to Ryan.

Ryan spares you both a glance before nodding. “There was minor flooding at the back jus’ before the exit by the jungle but otherwise it was dry and safe. It’s not a bad plan.”

“Then you’ll show me where it is?” Bucky insists.

“It’s not hard ta find, but sure. Tomorrow morning?” Ryan turns to him.

Bucky nods leaning down to press a kiss to your head.

The memory of that initial hurricane just after you’d crash landed here fills you with worry. What if you do have to go through another one and this one is worse? How likely is it that you’d die from a storm before you get rescued?

“Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll keep you safe.” Bucky whispers, reaching up to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand where there is no clay.

“I wish you didn’t have to shoulder so much.”

“Taking care of you is never too much.” Bucky smiles. “I kinda look forward to it actually.”

“Why?” You wonder, absolutely confused.

“Because I do. Don’t question it. Just accept it. You’re never getting rid of me.” He teases.

“Even when we’re rescued?” You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Especially when we’re rescued.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you once, then starts to lean down towards you for a kiss.

“I’m going for a swim.” Ryan announces, breaking the little bubble you and Bucky are in.

Without ceremony, Ryan moves straight for water headed towards the crash site without even feigning a different direction.

This draws both yours and Bucky’s attention as both of you are well aware that Ryan has still been swimming out to the cabin, but he’s taken such great care to go at it in roundabout ways. While strange, you guess that he must be more upset about Conor than even you could tell.

Your mind replays the agonized look he’d given you before when you’d promised him that rescue would be coming. Maybe he could tell that it was only your hope?

“He misses Conor. He should be starting school soon.” You explain.

“Mm.” Bucky nods, accepting your explanation.

“If there were any photos, he would have found them already, wouldn’t he?” You wonder, curious to no end about your new friend.

Sure, you have suspicions, but after so much time spent with him, you’ve both accepted him as a part of your life here. Ryan has your trust. And though you know it was given reluctantly, Bucky’s too.

“Maybe he just can’t bear to give up. I know I wouldn’t.” Bucky looks down at you, giving you a squeeze.

“If you had a son?” You ask.

“I’m not opposed to the idea.” Bucky stuns you, pulling you to look at him with his words to see how serious he might be about it. “With you. When the time is right.”

Your heart is pounding. Your mind is reeling. Bucky wants to have kids with you?

“You promise?” You gasp, so shocked your voice is mostly air.

“I love you.”

You smile, loving the words that spill from his lips.

“You do?”

Bucky smiles then chuckles, reaching up to squeeze the back of your neck, and you know that he’s telling you the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You smell good.” Bucky sighs, holding the blanket open for you as you take off your shoes and slip into the bed and nestle into Bucky’s arms. “Good bath?”

You can hear the exhaustion in his voice. He’s been working so hard to fortify the hut for smaller storms that might hit.

“Yes.” You hug him, cuddling in against his side as he drapes the blanket over you.

“You’re wearing your shorts?” He checks, and he’s right.

You’ve chosen to sleep in your second set of shorts, dark gray cloth instead of jeans and your tattered blue floral dress.

Because you don’t answer, Bucky adjusts to look down at you, forcing himself awake.

“Kitten?”

“I’m just…I want to be ready if we need to go short notice.” You confess, shutting your eyes and refusing to look at him. You don’t want him to see the fear.

“Ready for what?”

“Anything. Hurricanes.” You admit and wish you could throw away this fear.

You’re almost expecting Bucky to chastise you for your worrying but instead he settles into the plane cushion bed again and cuddles you closer.

“That’s smart.” He approves. “But we won’t have anywhere to run until tomorrow morning. Ryan has to show us the cave first.”

“Can I come?” You’re already drifting off, voice weak and slurring.

Bucky’s is the same, both of you exhausted from the day’s work.

“You kidding? I’m not letting you outta my sight.” He mumbles, his breathing getting heavier.

You almost smile but sleep takes you and your mind is overcome with dreams of thunderous clouds.

~~~~~~~~~~

For a moment Bucky isn’t sure what he’s hearing. He can feel you stirring to the sound in his arms and he tries to hold you tighter.

You were so scared before, the look of terror in your eyes at the prospect of being caught in a storm worse than the one you weathered before.

He wants to make sure you feel safe and secure with him. He’ll protect you from weather and predator, whether that’s animal or stupid fucking Ryan.

You tug away from him hard though and the sound…a humming…no, a loud thumping. It’s hard to place as he tries to both understand the sound and also figure out why you’re no longer lying beside him.

“Y/N?” He searches, sleepily pushing himself onto one elbow as he hears you bolt for the door.

Suddenly he’s wide awake and he can hear you rounding the hut to the other set of stairs on the other side.

He pulls his boots on quickly, sliding his feet in and lacing them with nimble fingers loosely.

“He’s gone!” You cry out, the pure panic in your voice as the sound overhead suddenly makes sense to Bucky.

A helicopter! It thuds loudly, motor whirring and buzzing and blowing sand everywhere while whipping trees back and forth.

Bucky springs form the hut and sees you already racing towards the trees where you can see the chopper headed.

He passes you quickly, easily. But he doesn’t stop because he knows that you would never forgive him.

Bucky runs faster than he’s ever run in his life, barreling through dense jungle but never once missing a step.

The branches of certain trees scrape at his skin and slap his face, but he doesn’t relent in his pursuit.

It takes minutes for him to reach a small field of tall grass. It’s sways violently in the chopper’s wind and at the center of this field is Ryan.

Bucky stops, taking in the sight as a blinding spotlight shines on Ryan first then quickly swings towards him.

Ryan follows the beam and when he sees Bucky take a step towards him, he reaches down to his hip where a holster suddenly sits. He pulls a gun, a 9mm Beretta from what Bucky can tell, and stops his advance.

“Stop!” Ryan orders, his voice tight and commanding.

As the chopper descends a little more to hover at fifty feet, a steel wire ladder falls down towards Ryan as Bucky begins to notice the metal case in his other arm.

“What’s in there?” Bucky asks, staying as still as he can until he might have a chance to pounce.

“The other black box.” Ryan says simply, his voice softer but defiant. “Parts of it.”

Bucky’s glare is piercing and if Ryan didn’t have that gun, he would probably have already fled.

“I had to…” Ryan begins, still combative in tone but Bucky realizes that the anger in it is not directed at him. “They have me by the balls, mate. When Grace died, Conor would have followed, but they found me, and they offered to save his life. That is a debt I can never repay.”

Bucky’s fists tighten, anger bubbling up to choke him so that he cannot speak. These schemes, it has to be Hydra. No one else would want him dead.

“Who’s they?” He forces himself to ask, just to make sure.

It could be the U.S. Government too if he’s being completely honest. They could very well want him out of the way.

“I don’t know. People.” Ryan throws out, and Bucky believes that he doesn’t know. “All I know is they wanted you out of the way. If I had known that she…I didn’t know that she would be there. I didn’t know that they would die.”

Ryan’s voice grows thick and he shakes his head, ridding himself of whatever thoughts his guilt have conjured up.

“If I don’t finish the job, they’ll kill mah boy.” He holds the gun steadier, catching his breath before he makes his face as stoic as possible. “This is all I can give her. I can’t save her, but I can at least do this much. I can give her you. They’ll think you’re dead. I’ll make sure.”

Bucky sees it now. The real emotions behind his eyes. Ryan does love you. He’s certain of it now. He also understands what he’s saying and leans forward, angling himself so that when Ryan shoots, the bullet will hit his shoulder. Too high to be his chest and endanger his lungs or heart.

“Tell her I’m sorry.” Ryan pleads, and squeezes the trigger.

Bucky’s mind races with possibilities. Ryan might miss. He could hit him where he will not recover and then you’d be left here alone on this island. You’d hate him for not fighting and hate Ryan for killing him. He could bleed out and Bucky can’t imagine you here without him.

The bullet pierces him just where he’d hoped and falls to the ground with a heavy thud and goes as still as he can possibly can.

He holds his breath, pushing through the pain that burns from his right shoulder, and hoping that the chopper will leave quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gasping with a stitch in your side and your legs made of jelly, you break through the trees onto a field you’ve passed a few times here on the island but avoided in case of snakes.

The sight before freezes you. Ryan shoots. Bucky falls.

Ryan turns to a wire ladder and begins to climb, and you race to Bucky, sobs already shaking your body.

“Bucky, no!” You gasp. “Please. Please, don’t be dead.”

As you reach him, you turn him over, and see that his eyes are wide open, reading your heartbroken expression as he remains unmoving while you press your hands against his wound.

You continue to sob, turning your eyes to the chopper overhead as it pulls away and takes with it all hope of your rescue.

As it fades into the distance, Bucky pulls himself up a bit, sitting up and pressing his much larger hand against the bullet hole on the front while you fuss with the exit wound in the back.

“W-We need to s-stitch you up.” You cry, voice low and controlled despite the sobs still ripping through your throat.

Without hesitation you reach down and tear away at your dress reducing its length even further, now just barely reaching your hips. You wrap it around the wound as best you can, slapping Bucky’s hand away to shove more fabric over it and then place his hand back over the spot.

“I’m alright, kitten.” Bucky tells you, voice strong and certain.

“Like fuck-all you are.” You sob, fisting the front of his shirt as you refuse to look back to where you can still hear the chopper’s sounds, fading. “H-He shot you.”

Bucky strokes the side of your face with his metal hand, directing your gaze up so that you can look at him.

As you meet his steel and ice eyes, full of warmth and reassurance, you fall to pieces as you realize that Ryan has betrayed you. All your suspicions, as unlikely as you’d thought them, were true.

Bucky metal arm pulls you closer, his lips pressed to your crown as you sob against his chest, knowing now that you will never leave this place. You and Bucky will live and die on this island and no one will ever know you were here.