#but the panic means I’m letting myself believe it’s happening

[somethingvicked]

Forget me (not) pt 3

warnings: female reader, talk of memory loss, angst to fluff

You stared at Eddie, your head pounding from the sudden overload of information that just broke through the wall that had been there.

You felt the overwhelming love you had for Eddie, had had for so long. But you also remembered what he had told you, how he had pushed you aside like you were nothing, for Chrissy.

You pulled back, as if he had burned you and Eddie looked at you in panic, like a deer in the headlights.

“Easy, sweetheart, easy…” he started and you suddenly saw red.

“Don’t call me that!” you snapped and he paled. “I’m not your sweetheart any longer, don’t you remember? Because I sure do.”

But at the same time… Eddie had been at your side practically all this time. Why had he? Wasn’t he scared what Chrissy would think?

No, of course he wasn’t. Because he wanted to stay friends with you, he just didn’t want you to have feelings for him. And then you forgot them, a small voice in your head said.

Well, it worked out quite well for him, didn’t it?

You rose to your feet and Eddie quickly did the same, still looking at you like you were some unstable lunatic with a ticking bomb.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said, your voice tense. “It clearly worked. And so I guess you better go back to Chrissy, since I now remember everything.”

“Wait, no, Y/N, it’s not like that…”

“I’m back to my old self now, Eddie,” you growled at him. “You don’t need to protect me anymore or do your duty as a friend.”

“Sweetheart, me and Chrissy broke up!”

That made you stop dead in your tracks and you turned around. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, panting as if he was in pain. “About two weeks after… your accident. She didn’t like that I spent all my time with you…”

You hadn’t thought it was possible for you to be more angry at him, but lo and behold!

“Are you saying it’s my fault she dumped you, Munson?!” you screeched, grimacing as the loud sound made your headache worse.

“No!” Eddie all but squeaked, “I… I’m trying to say that… being at your side was all I wanted. What happened… it made me realize… how much you mean to me. And I know I was an idiot, an insensitive dolt, a goddamn jerk! I hate myself for treating you that way and making you feel like you were not the most important person in my life! Always had been.”

By now he was nearly sobbing, tears brimming in his eyes. “When I heard what had happened… you have no idea… I thought you had died. And the last conversation I had with you was that I wished  you forgot everything.”

“And I did,” you said, shaking your head, still angry with him, but his tears and broken puppy eyes had made it go down a little. The fucker, even when he didn’t try he knew how to play you like a fiddle.

“Yes, you did. You didn’t remember me. I know I deserved it. To have you looking at me like I was a stranger, not being allowed to tickle you or carry you on my back… you remembering everyone else, but not me. I deserved that. But Y/N… please believe me when I say that you are the most important person in my life. When you left that day I sat and contemplated who I would miss more if I would never see them again – you or Chrissy. And… me never seeing Chrissy again, it didn’t made that much of a difference. But the thought of being without you, it made me… I felt shattered. I was going to call you, but then they called me and told me what had happened.”

You rubbed your temples. All of this… it was too much for you to handle right now.

“I… I need to go home,” you got out. “Think about all this.”

“I’ll drive you,” Eddie said, but you shook your head. “I want to be alone.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie said with a frown. “I’m not letting you walk home after regaining your memories and had such a shock. What if something happens? No, get in the van. I’ll drive you. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but you’re not walking.”

A part of you wanted to smile, both at his stubbornness and with how he cared for you. But the rest of you were still so shaky after everything that you just pushed it away.

A little while later you sat in your room, back at your desk with the photo album in front of you. Eddie had kept his promise and not talked to you the whole way home, even though he had glanced over at you at least one time every minute.

Despite having your memory back completely you felt more confused than ever.

Thankfully your mother had gone to the grocery store, thinking you were spending the day with Eddie, so you didn’t have to go through the roller coaster to tell her you were back to normal.

You weren’t sure what to do with Eddie. Remembering how he had treated you when he got together with Chrissy and his reaction when you told him how you felt about him… it made you feel heartbroken all over again but also angry.

And then… then you remembered how he had supported you and stood by you these last weeks, never quitting on you despite you not remembering anything about him, no matter how he had tried.

It felt like your head was about to explode. This was just too big and complicated for you to take on by yourself.

Usually you went to Eddie if you needed advice and talk something out but obviously that was a no go.

You didn’t want to talk to your mother either, it was enough you had to tell her your memory was back – your parents had been through hell, probably more so than you these last couple of weeks, you didn’t want to worry them even more.

After some time of contemplating you decided to call Steve. He was Eddie’s friend, he was your friend, and he knew the history between you two. He seemed like a good choice.

Steve didn’t dawdle, he arrived less than twenty minutes after you hung up. The first thing he did when you opened the door was to give you a big hug.

“I’m so happy your memory is fully recovered,” he told you with a smile. “Although I still would’ve hoped you forgot about me being King Steve forever.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that as you two walked up to your room.

You and Steve sat at the floor on your bedroom, backs leaned against your bed as you told him about the moment when you remembered everything, your reaction to Eddie, and how you felt so lost on what to do now.

Steve was quiet for a moment, running a hand through his hair, clearly deep in thought.

“You know I think what he did to you was really shitty. I seriously could have beaten him up for being so insensitive,” he told you, making you snort.

“But, he did tell me the same story – that even before you crashed into the tree he was imagining his life without you and without Chrissy. It was you that he almost broke down over losing. And this whole time… please forgive me for this, Y/N, but I actually told him that perhaps he should give you some space, do something else when the time went on and you didn’t remember a single thing about him. It was slowly draining him, he… he couldn’t fall asleep without looking at old pictures of you, crying.”

You were shocked. “Really?”

“Yeah. And – let me just say I didn’t exactly agree with that either – but he didn’t even look at Chrissy after your accident. Couldn’t stand to be near her. I think… I think he felt like it was his fault, what had happened to you, because he had been with her.”

“But I didn’t want him to do this because he felt guilty!” you protested.

“That’s what I said too, but he insisted that’s not why. And you know what? I believed him.”

Steve smiled at you and patted your shoulder. “Y/N, love is not easy. Everyone keeps saying it is but it’s really a fucking mess. When I was with Nancy I spray painted the sign of the cinema, calling her a slut. All because I thought she had cheated on me. The first girl I loved and I did that to her.”

You shook your head. You remembered that very clearly. It was before you and Steve became friends but you had still heard about it from the others.

“What I’m saying is… yes, Eddie was a goddamn idiot. But he realized he was and what he did wrong. And he has tried to make it right, and he will keep trying to make it right, if you let him. So… only you can decide whether you want to forgive Eddie or not, Y/N. But… perhaps you should try and do what he did. Try imagining the rest of your life without him. Does that feel like something you would be okay with?”

Your felt your breath hitch and your stomach turn into knots. A life without Eddie? It felt like… like suddenly the same feeling from your memory loss was back. Only now it wasn’t the past you missed but the future. It was only blank.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Then there’s your answer,” Steve told you softly.

Steve drove you to the trailer park and you walked up to the Munson’s trailer and knocked on the door.

Eddie opened, and you got the feeling of dejá vu from the last time you had come here. But Eddie sure looked different.

He looked as if he had cried, his hair a nest, as if he had ran his fingers through the curls multiple times, his knuckles bruised as if he had punched a wall.

“Y/N?” he wondered in surprise when he saw you.

“Hey,” you said, smiling weakly. “Look, Eddie…”

“Is this the moment where you… you’re going to tell me that you never want to see me again?” Eddie interrupted, his voice trembling, and it honestly broke your heart.

“No,” you told, reaching out a pushing a curl out of his face. “I… I’m still quite angry with you for what you did. But… it feels like this whole thing, what happened… it was some sort of lesson for both of us. A lesson for you to have me forget you. And a lesson for me, how it would feel to have no connection to you. The feeling, when I think back of how it felt, not knowing everything that has happened between us… it was horrible. I don’t want to be without you again, or ever forget you again. Not even the stupid thing you did, even though it makes me want to shake you.”

Eddie let out a gasp and then he all but squished you against him, holding you so hard you were sure you would have bruises.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he whispered, carefully kissing your temple. The bruises were healed but he remembered them all too vividly, kissing every spot where they had been.

“I’m so sorry for what I did. And for how I behaved when I started dating Chrissy. I just… I guess I got caught up with how it felt that someone popular actually wanted me. And in the back of my head I always thought you and I would have more time. I was an idiot, I know that. I will never make that mistake again.”

He inhaled before he continued: “And I’m so sorry that I never realized… that you loved me. I… I wished I had realized it sooner but I didn’t…”

You shushed him. “I know. That’s what I mean, that maybe the accident happening… it was a wake up call for both of us.”

Eddie nodded. “Yes. I’ve always loved you, sweetheart. But it’s more than that. You… you’re my person. The reason why it has never worked out with any other girl. Why I couldn’t see a future with Chrissy. Because you were the one.”

Now it was your turn to blink back tears.

Eddie suddenly pulled something from his pocket. Your eyes widened when you saw it was the dried flower from the scene of the accident.

“I found it in the van, on the passenger seat,” Eddie said. “I want you to have this and save it. As a reminder, that you will never forget me again. And as a promise from me, that I will never forget you’re the only one I want.”

You smiled, and placed the blue Forget-me-not behind your ear.

“The only one?”

“The only one,” Eddie promised, sealing it with a kiss.

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[whentherewerebicycles]

the moon looked bigger in real life

[nakahras]

᯽ one more hour • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you finally find out who chuuya is after months of him lying to you. unfortunately, for chuuya, you’re not the only one that figures out the identity of your boyfriend and that makes you a target.

warnings • intentional lowercase, angst, fem!reader, mild/medium language, verbal arguments, depictions of violence/gore, mentions of guns/knives, depictions of panic/anxiety attacks, hospital setting, mentions of injury/blood, chuuya’s an idiot

wc • 6.2k

a/n • i’ve been in the biggest writing funk. ofc this loser ginger was the one to drag me out of it wiriwiieiwieiqi

“how long did you plan on lying to me for? were you ever going to tell me the truth or were you going to hope i just never figured it out and let me live in complete ignorance?” you pace around the ginormous penthouse you find yourself in for the first time since your relationship with chuuya had started.

that was almost 7 months ago now. you can’t believe the amount of times you’ve almost said ‘i love you’ to the man standing a few feet away from you in just the last month alone. it’s comical, actually. chuuya isn’t even that person to you anymore, you don’t no longer even know who he is. you knew him as this above average guy that was an executive for some sort of multinational conglomerate. the adoptive son of the ceo. some form of a nepo-kid. that’s how you rationalized him being so successful at such a young age. 

you didn’t even know he had an ability.

you were delusional to think that this relationship was going so well because you had found the perfect guy. the perfect guy doesn’t lie to you about being a mafioso executive.

you stop pacing. you’re the most idiotic person on this planet. you can’t believe this is your reality.

“god, i cannot believe you hid something like this from me, chuuya. i cannot believe i fell for it.”

you have to give chuuya some credit. while you’ve been pacing and practically yelling at him he has annoyingly kept his composure with a straight face. unfortunately for him, that pissed you off even more. you turn to him finally and stare at the man in silence. his composure doesn’t budge. he gazes back but it’s as if he’s looking right through you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this emotionless before.

you’re desperate now, trying to rationalize your relationship even after finding out he isn’t who you thought he was. because, for better or for worse, even though you haven’t outwardly said the words to him you had, in fact, fallen in love with chuuya nakahara. 

you feel your stomach churn and waterline burn, you needed him to say something, anything. “are you just going to stand there like a fucking statue all night? or are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on?”

“how did you find out?” his voice is tight but unfeeling, expressionless and cold.

how frustrating of him. instead of answering your questions he asks one of his own. you shouldn’t give him the satisfaction he clearly wasn’t going to give you. you shouldn’t. but you have a bad habit of reacting before thinking about it fully.

“you attacked the armed detective agency at the hospital i work at? how do you think i found out, chuuya? you know how many times you’ve picked me up from there? just because i don’t work in that wing doesn’t mean my coworkers don’t know who you are. they sent me videos of what happened. i had to pretend that wasn’t you. i almost convinced myself of it.” your breathing is becoming erratic and uneven, only shallow and short breaths escaping you.

chuuya looks to the side as if he’s thinking something over then he looks back to you, gaze unchanged. “so other people know?”

“yeah, i’m sure not everyone believed me that it wasn’t you.” you let out a frustrated sigh, “why does that even matter? you should be focusing on the fact that i know.”

“it matters…” the ginger doesn’t give you any further explanation as he pulls out his phone and starts typing. 

you want to pull your hair out. he’s ignoring you almost — actually, you think him ignoring you would be less frustrating. he’s completely dismissing your concerns, questions and feelings on the matter. and now he’s texting someone?

that’s it. you were done with this conversation and you were done with him. maybe for good. you walk away to your belongings. chuuya clearly notices your movement and watches intently as you put your coat back on. 

panic finally settles deep within his chest and his voice cracks with desperation as he asks, “where are you going?”

you notice the change and look back at him from the elevator doors. his face is still expressionless, however, your eyes wander down to his gloved hands and take note of the way he’s gripping his phone just a bit too tightly. you shouldn’t, but you give him one last chance to explain himself, he just needs to give you anything to make you stay. it doesn’t need to be big, it could be the most vague explanation. just something enough that you can grasp onto.

“i’m leaving, unless you plan on answering any of my questions?” you look at him with wide and expectant eyes — they’re hopeful even.

chuuya just stands there, again. his bicolored eyes are filled with regret but he keeps his mouth shut. you let yourself sit in the silence that’s been created for a few moments. letting yourself get worked up. he was really willing to let you go, rather than just tell you what’s going on. 

you let out a shuddered and wet breath, tears welling up in your eyes and lips trembling. “i didn’t think so…”

with that you leave his apartment with a tight chest and damp cheeks.

that was 4 days ago and it has been radio silence on your end. chuuya tried calling you later that night but you didn’t answer. since then, there has been no further attempts on his end either. you weren’t sure if he was giving you space or still didn’t know how to answer your questions, but you think you’d prefer him blowing up your phone with no answers as opposed to nothing at all. you’ve been crying over a quart of ice cream all afternoon. you felt pathetic, sitting on the couch in pajama shorts and a hoodie of chuuya’s that you’re pretty sure was left behind on purpose. 

you lean over to set the now empty ice cream container down on the table of your kotatsu. a whine is heard from your lap and you look down to see your previously sleeping cat glaring up at you with an accusatory look in her eye. your movement had clearly disturbed her umpteenth nap of the day. you look at your little companion with an apologetic smile and pet her as an sorry for moving around so much. the torti is quick to be appeased as she starts purring loudly.

mochi, your cat, was the only thing that got you through this entire debacle. without her, you think you may have let yourself wither away into an empty shell. 

mochi’s ears perk up and suddenly she’s on high alert. the cat leaps off of you and investigates something in the kitchen. you hear her hiss and then a sort of bang. your brows furrow and you let out a sigh, thinking about how she probably just made a big mess in the kitchen as she scurries back in the room to hide underneath the kotatsu, bushy tailed and, oddly enough, growling. 

you shimmy yourself out from under the warmth of the kotatsu yourself and get up to investigate the mess you probably had to pick up. as you near the kitchen you feel a draft — funny, you distinctly remember closing the window in the kitchen. 

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

chuuya isn’t even pretending to listen to what’s happening in this meeting. he could feel the concerned gaze he’s getting from kouyou but his nerves are far too shot for him to even pretend to care. all he cares about is you. how you desperately wanted him to open up and be truthful, how betrayed you looked leaving his apartment with tears running down your face, how you wouldn’t answer his phone call that night and how you still hadn’t contacted him to make another attempt at getting him to explain.

chuuya would answer the phone in the middle of this meeting if you called at this very second. he had made up his mind when he finally came to his senses later that night. he always seemed to be one step behind when it came to relationships. being one step behind may be enough to ruin yet another relationship that he cherishes deeply.

the executive can’t comprehend what you’ve done to him. he’s felt on edge since the moment you left the penthouse. his fingers twitch in irritation, his skin crawls, his breath feels constricted. it’s like he’s coming down from a long lasting high. he was having withdrawals. he hasn’t felt this tense and unfocused since he tried to quit smoking a few years back when gin got on his ass about finishing a whole pack in one day.

actually, a cigarette sounded damn good right about now. mori would have a fit though, of course he’s always been a doctor to the core. so, the ginger falls back on tapping his foot incessantly and checking his phone obsessively. 

this meeting feels like it’s dragging, time moving in slow motion almost. it’s only been 30 minutes but to chuuya it feels like 30 hours. it’s agonizing to sit here when what he needs is a distraction. a mission where he can let out his frustration on some opposing force. he’s never been one to complain about meetings but it’s never too late to start.

the executive is ready to leave, literally 30 seconds away from standing up and walking out, but then something happens. one of kouyou’s subordinates urgently walks in and makes a beeline for her. an emergency, clearly, because everyone knows not to disturb an exec meeting otherwise.

kouyou’s eyes widen and flit to chuuya. this worried glance is different from her previous ones. it makes the ginger’s blood run cold and hairs stand on end. if he thought he was on edge before — that was nothing compared to this. 

kouyou wastes no time in reporting the issue as she shoos her subordinate away. “there was activity from one of our many opposing organizations. my people are working on pinpointing which one but… they broke into and vandalized several apartment buildings in the naka ward…” 

kouyou looks at chuuya again. her brows are furrowed in concern, it makes his stomach churn. why is she looking at him like that? what did she even say? chuuya wasn’t focused. he was on the verge of getting up to leave just two minutes ago. 

he was going to leave.

he needed a better distraction from his stewing thoughts of you. the longer he sat here the more time he spent thinking about how he should really just show up at your apartment door. surely, you wouldn’t turn him away if he was willing to finally explain things, right?

“they were all within a 2 kilometer radius of the yokohama city minato red cross hospital-“

mori interjects, “you mean the one you all took the liberty of storming while i was ill due to that cannibalism ability?” 

if chuuya wasn’t paying attention before, he is now. he thinks a knife to the eye would be better than this. physically: the executive is composed and stoned faced — but internally? chuuya is sinking in his seat wishing he would simply disappear. they’re all used to mori’s snide comments, his tongue always being quick and made of silver. sometimes, like today, his comments hit a little harder. 

so, even though they all try to stay composed, chuuya doesn’t miss the way kouyou flinches and once again her eyes flit over to him. 

“yes, mori-san, the same hospital…” the woman sounds almost pained as she talks, her internal panic slowly seeping out through the cracks. “most civilians were unharmed… but there were a couple women who were targeted and are now in critical condition at the same hospital. one of them was pronounced dead by the time she got to the hospital.”

mori hums, eyes cutting over to chuuya. “interesting. chuuya, don’t you have a little friend that lives in the same area?”

there it was. the reason kouyou was so concerned and fidgety. chuuya’s heart sinks and stomach drops to his feet. everything unfocuses, his vision going blurry and swirling. the ginger visibly turns pale and his blood runs cold. his whole body twitches, the need to get up and leave far too strong.

chuuya feels physically ill. how had he not thought of you the second kouyou said what ward it was? he was so busy thinking about himself and wallowing in self pity that he didn’t even think to second guess the information he was being fed. kouyou’s glances tell him it was bad too, or worse, she had no information on your status. 

this was chuuya’s fault. he has this sinking feeling that you were the target. he should’ve known you weren’t safe when you told him people at your work had connected who he was. he should have been more insistent on talking things out. he should have had you come over to his and stay over until he knew you were safe. hell, he should have at the very least set up a detail in your neighborhood.

this was all his fault. 

chuuya abruptly stands up, hands slamming on the table. “i should check on the situation. may i be dismissed, boss?”

“i don’t see why you shouldn’t. report back when you’ve got a handle on…the matter.” mori raises his eyebrows, not bothering to hide his obvious amusement at the executive’s reaction.

chuuya doesn’t notice, he doesn’t even give any of them a second glance as he practically flies out of the room to find the nearest exit to this god forsaken building. he finds an open window and easily hurls himself out of it, using his ability to hurdle himself through the sky. chuuya didn’t even think twice about, maybe, taking a vehicle. his mind was far too muddled to even register what he was doing.

this was all his fault.

he wasn’t looking for practicality right now anyway, he was looking at what would get him there the fastest.

“there” being your apartment. he didn’t want to assume you were attacked. maybe it’s just wishful thinking on his part. chuuya makes it to the average looking building in record time — which he’d boast about in any other situation, but now was not the time.

the gravity manipulator is about to circle your apartment to get to the front but notices something odd. the window at the side of your kitchen was wide open. you never did that, you only left it cracked open when you were cooking. chuuya enters your apartment the same way he left the port mafia building: through a window. 

what he sees next confirms his deepest fears. he’s had actual nightmares about this — or at least he thinks he has, having never actually been able to dream. but he’s woken up in cold sweats, throat raw from screaming, and a pit in his stomach with you on his mind. this was more like a waking nightmare, he imagines this is what the ones he can’t recall are filled with. 

there’s blood on the floor and also splattered across the walls and kitchen utilities. broken kitchenware is scattered across the wooden slats, your oven and fridge are out of place too. an obvious sign of a struggle. you clearly fought back. of course you fought back. chuuya had tried to teach you some self defense but with further observation he had learned that you grew up taking mixed martial arts classes. something about letting out your bad temper in a healthy way.

all the fighting skills in the world couldn’t save you from a bullet though. there was one lodged in your fridge and wall. as chuuya nears the other side of your kitchen he notices the front door is also wide open, two holes in it indicating more shots were set off. 

then chuuya sees it. his stomach churns violently, so much so that he almost doubles over and retches at the sight. a trail of blood that ends at the front of your apartment and then…

a bloody handprint.

your bloody handprint.

chuuya would recognize it anywhere. he’s memorized every detail of your hands from the size down to the swirls in your fingerprints. you had to have dragged yourself out of your home for help. 

chuuya is glued in place. he feels like his whole world is crumbling around him. the edges of his vision going white as the color falls from his grasp. his ears are ringing, the white noise becoming louder as his mind runs wild. 

you weren’t here.

there was so much blood.

the smell of iron stuck to his nostrils.

where were you?

did someone take you to the hospital?

the hospital.

one of the women that was brought there was pronounced dead. even if that wasn’t you… all of the other women were in critical condition. he couldn’t imagine you being okay after seeing the scene laid out before him. 

chuuya was going to be sick. a wave of nausea crashes over him. he feels the bile clawing up his throat. he scrambles over to your kitchen sink, almost slipping on your blood. he doesn’t let anything out at first, just gags and dry heaves. then his eyes sting and what little contents he had sitting in his stomach are released. this time he really does vomit. 

the executive's breathing is shallow and labored. he looks down to where his hands are gripping the sink and realizes they’re now covered in your blood. he holds them up and his breathing quickens. his stomach churns and he shoves his gloves off. stumbling back as he stares at his trembling hands. it was too much. this was different from all of the gore and violence that comes with being in the port mafia. 

it was you, you were in danger and he wasn’t there. he couldn’t help you. he should have been there to help you. he should have kept you safe.

the only thing that brought chuuya back to reality was a high pitched mewl that came from further inside your apartment. chuuya would recognize that little noise anywhere. mochi. he whips around to find the small feline peeking out from under your kotatsu. the orange glow indicating that it was still on. chuuya lets out a sort of wet and shaky breath. 

the ginger gently approaches the clearly spooked creature. he’s never been particularly fond of cats but for some reason yours took a liking to him and he couldn’t help but fall head over heels for the torti. much like he couldn’t help the way he fell for her mother. chuuya reaches out a finger and mochi hesitantly sniffs it. her eyes light up at the gravity manipulator’s familiar scent and nudges his finger with her nose. 

after getting the clear go ahead from the cat, chuuya leans in and picks her up. the torti nuzzles into him and she was still shaking — or maybe that was chuuya. he reaches down and turns the flammable item off before straightening himself and greet the small feline.

“hey, sweet girl, you scared for your mama too?” chuuya’s voice cracks and he knows he needs to get to the hospital but he feels a little guilty just leaving mochi here in this disaster of an apartment.

chuuya sighs and let’s the torti down. he pulls out his phone and sends out a quick message to kouyou, asking her to send a cleaning crew and to pick up the small creature and take her back to the gravity manipulator’s place. her response is sent mere moments after his own. he doesn’t bother responding. 

the ginger strides over to the front door. he makes sure to close it behind him so mochi doesn’t get out then makes a beeline for the hospital.

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

”i’m sorry, sir, i pulled up her chart but you aren’t on her contacts list. unfortunately i’m unable to give you any further information.” the patient services rep behind the counter holds firm on her statement by giving the man a tight lipped smile.

chuuya’s bicolored eyes narrow in frustration. he knows, he knows, that the lady is just doing her job but she’s doing it so infuriatingly well. he’s desperate to know your status and his sanity is slowly losing its grip on him, he’s slipping away with each obstacle. as if answering a silent plea, a tap on his shoulder catches his attention.

the executive swivels around and is met with the sweet old lady that lives next door to you. she was always checking in with you. making sure you had enough to eat and were getting enough rest. you once compared her to your own mother, who is no longer with you but even when she was it was nothing like what the older woman does for you. when you introduced the woman to your boyfriend she was awfully judgemental of him at first, she was making sure he was good enough for you. he didn’t think so but apparently your neighbor thought otherwise, seeing something in him he didn’t see himself.

her usual smile is replaced with a furrowed brow and downturned lips. she was frowning at chuuya, something akin to scolding. the ginger felt oddly accosted by the woman standing before him. she’s never looked at him with so much contempt before.

she folds her arms across her chest and she lets out a huff, “what are you doing here, boy?”

chuuya flinches at her tone like she had just physically slapped him in the face. the ability user quickly recovers though, realizing if she was here that would mean…

you had to be here and you had to be alive, if not your neighbor wouldn’t be standing here in front of him scolding him. no, instead her face would be filled with grief. this was a good thing. 

you were still alive.

“where is she? i need to see her.” chuuya lets out a breath he’s been subconsciously holding in. 

the old lady bristles at his blatant disregard for her own question. “and why should i tell you? y’know, she’s been miserable the last few days because of you? she wouldn’t tell me you were the reason but i could just tell. what did you do to her? is this all your fault?”

chuuya actually takes a step back at her words. he felt like the woman had just punched him in the gut. the older lady packs quite the punch for how small she is, not even standing at 5 feet tall. she’s right, of course, this was all chuuya’s fault. 

it was all his fault.

”i didn’t mean to… she was supposed to be safe. i didn’t tell her anything to keep her safe.” he was rambling now, desperation seeping into his voice. “i just need to see her. please, please, ma’am, you have to tell me.”

the old lady falters, her scowl dropping and a pang of pity spreads across her chest. it doesn’t last long though. the implication of chuuya’s response, meaning he did have something to do with the fact you were in emergency surgery and would be in there for a few more hours.

you’d been rushed to the hospital. thanks to your neighbors, you assailants were scared off by the ambulance and police they called. after the first gunshot went off they were quick to make the call. 

you were brought in with a plethora of injuries. blunt force trauma to the head, 3 gunshot wounds (2 of which were still lodged inside of you), and several lacerations littering your entire body. all of which resulted in severe blood loss and unfortunately for you, since you weren’t the only one to sustain these kinds of injuries, the hospital was on a low supply of blood by the time you came in. 

the old woman is winding up to scold chuuya some more but she’s interrupted by a nurse walking up to her. the woman in scrubs looks exhausted, she must have been in the operating room with you. the nurse also looked worried, she must be a close coworker. 

“nakamura-sama? the surgeon wanted to give you an update…” the nurse’s eyes trail over to chuuya and her demeanor goes from concern to nervous, she nods at chuuya quickly, “please excuse us… nakahara-san…”

oh. she knew who he was. had she been one of your coworkers that he knew? chuuya’s guilt grows as he thinks he should remember who this woman is. this was all so frustrating. no one would tell him anything even if they knew who he was. the executive desperately wants to argue, to stand his ground and find out what was going on.

something occurs to him in that very moment. is this how you felt that day? when chuuya wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t tell you anything. shutting himself off. this was some sick and twisted karma. the universe was laughing in the ginger’s face and he only has himself to blame for it. 

a man’s voice speaks up, “the boy can stay. now why don’t you tell my wife and i how our dear granddaughter is doing?”

the nurse hesitates, looking to the older woman for guidance. mrs. nakamura squints at her husband for an uncomfortably long moment. however, the older man doesn’t seem bothered at all, he must be used to this type of scrutinizing glare from his wife. if chuuya wasn’t so distracted by your status he would be able to acknowledge that he wants that. he wants a future with you and he may be willing to give anything up for that.

mrs. nakamura clicks her tongue. “fine. the boy can stay.”

the nurse eyes chuuya for another moment before explaining your situation. she explains the injuries you sustained. that you’re still in surgery and probably would be for at least a couple more hours. you were doing surprisingly well, a fighter. of course you are. a warmth pools in the ginger’s chest. it was pride. 

“we have hit a small road block. due to the multiple victims being brought in… the blood supply is in the reserves. we have contacted other hospitals in the area and they’ve agreed to deliver us their extra supply. but it’s a process and it may take hours to receive any of it. do any of you know if you’re a match or a universal donor?” the nurse looks at the 3 of them hopefully, her gaze drifting to chuuya more than the other two.

chuuya freezes. he knows that he has type b blood, that’s not the problem. the problem is that he has no idea what your blood type is. he should know that, right? he’s sure you know his, sure you’re in the medical field but it’s common to know your partner's blood type. he should know this. 

he should know this. 

hanged, drawn and quartered. maybe a firing squad or even the guillotine. chuuya lists the ways he thinks he should be executed in his head. he’s had his head so far up his ass with trying to keep you in the dark about who he is that he hasn't even learned the most basic things about you. does he even know your favorite color? your favorite meal? your favorite song? 

this was the most criminal act he’s ever committed and that’s saying something considering the horrific things he’s done for the port mafia. this was bad. unforgivable even. this was all his fault and he couldn’t even tell the damn nurse if he was a match for you or not. 

what the fuck.

what the fuck?

what the fuck was wrong with him?

what does he even say? how does he tell the nurse and the old couple standing next to him that he has no idea if he’s a match for you? he supposes he can play it off. plainly state what his blood type is and leave it to the nurse to figure it out. maybe that could work. it would have to, he doesn’t have another choice. 

but before chuuya can even open his mouth the older man speaks up first. “i'm a universal donor, young lady. you can take some of my blood, i can’t possibly be using it all, i’m sure i have some to spare.”

the older man tries to lighten the situation as he chuckles at his own joke. his wife isn’t amused and even whacks him on his bicep with the back of her hand while clicking her tongue again. the nurse let’s out an uncomfortable laugh and looks to chuuya one last time. of course she would want to take a donation from a healthy young man. 

chuuya shakes his head and hopes to god he’s right when he says, “no, i’m- i’m not a match.”

”i see. mr. and mrs. nakamura, follow me please.”

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

your head feels light, like a morning fog had somehow managed to roll in and settle in your mind. everything was so numb and heavy, your entire body felt like lead. you wanted to keep sleeping. you wanted this annoying light behind your eyelids to go away. who the hell left the lights on?

did chuuya forget to turn them off again? why were they so bright? these weren’t your lights at home, they couldn’t be.

where were you? 

why did you feel like you got hit by a bus?

most importantly, where was chuuya?

…chuuya…

oh. 

you remember now. chuuya was an ass. he told you a sugar coated version of his truth. twisted who he was to fit your ideals even though you had never asked that of him. then he ignored you, refused to tell your anything and left you to the solitary confines of your apartment. and then…

your eyes fly open and you gasp for air. you were assaulted in your own home. someone had broken in and attacked you. they had guns and knives. you were shot. 

where were you?

did they take you? no, they were trying to kill you. you’re sure of that. if it hadn’t been for the sirens that scared them away, you’re sure they would have finished you off.

mochi. your poor mochi. she must have been terrified. oh god, they wouldn’t have…she hid right? she was safely under the kotatsu. she had to be unharmed physically. she had to be. you couldn’t be here right now, wherever you were. you had to get home and make sure she was okay.

distantly you hear this annoyingly incessant beeping and… someone's voice? what is it saying? are they speaking to you? your name. they’re calling for you but- 

who is it?

no. it wasn’t anything intelligible, it was screaming. it was your screaming. you were screaming. why were you screaming? 

a wave of fatigue crashes down on you, drowning you in darkness as you sink back into the depths of slumber.

the next time you wake up, you’re less confused. whatever anesthesia you were previously under obviously had worn off by now. the fog was certainly lifted and you were thinking much clearly now.

you haven’t opened your eyes yet but just by hearing the beeps coming from the monitors next to your bedside, you could piece together you are in the hospital and therefore you are safe. more importantly you’re alive. you try to bring your hand up to rub at your eyes but there’s a weight holding it down.

your brows furrow at the restriction. you stir only slightly, any movement you made right now was agonizing. you let out a grunt as a shooting pain courses through the entirety of your body. this wasn’t good, something like this was going to take a lot of time and physical therapy to recover from. 

how frustrating-

“are you awake?” his voice is gruff, filled with exhaustion but it was clear who was speaking to you.

you could pick out his voice from millions others. even worse, his voice never fails to soothe your soul. instantly your body relaxes from whatever tension it’s been managing to hold onto. traitor. you’re supposed to be upset with him. you should yell at him, kick him out. 

but… he stayed. he was here, he found you and stayed. how unfair. you’re tired, too tired to deny yourself the comfort he brings you. because despite everything, it’s still him. 

you think it will always be him.

so instead of crying or yelling or getting upset you simply give in. “yeah. i’m awake.”

you open your eyes, finally, to look at him. he looks like shit, it would be funny under any other circumstance. his hair is a mess, clearly he had been tug at it, nervously running his fingers through it. his usual under eye bag had bags. the dark circles a stark contrast against his porcelain complexion. 

if it weren’t for the fact that you were the one in the hospital bead, you’d think you two were here for him. after you examine him you look at his expression. it’s grim, he looks truly pathetic. you can only describe it as being akin to a wounded puppy. 

you let out a sigh but before you can even get another word out, he’s speaking. “i should have told you. i wasn’t thinking about you- i know i wasn’t but i convinced myself i was. i convinced myself that i was keeping you safe by not telling you but- i was a damn fool for that. this is all my-“

”chuuya, shut up.” this was so painful, you didn’t want to hear any of this. 

you are tired. you just want him to be there for you. you want him to comfort you. you just want your boyfriend. at this point you couldn’t care less about the bullshit he kept from you. at the end of the day it was his character you’ve fallen in love with and that was more than enough for you.

chuuya looks at you stunned. his words catch in his throat and he thinks he might actually cry. it’s been a while since he’s had the urge to cry like this. was this it? he almost lost you to death. now he was going to lose you in another way and he only had himself to blame. 

the ginger can’t even blame you for your decision. 

after all, this was all his fault.

“i don’t give a shit about who you are. tell me. don’t tell me. whatever. you found me and you’re here now. i just need you to be here. i-“ you choke on your words, you hadn’t realized but you’d started crying and it hurt. “i love you. i need you to not blame yourself for this because you need to be here for me and show me you can do this. please show me you can do this, i wont ask for anything-“

you can’t finish your thought. your lungs are constricted as you're held in his vice grip. you missed him. god, you missed him so much. his embrace is home. he’s your home and that’s terrifying. despite what you said you still have so much to learn about him. chuuya scares you but only because you feel so incredibly safe with him. 

you’ve never had that before and something tells you he’s never had that either. 

“i’m here. hell and back, i will always be here for you.” it wasn’t a direct admission but you don’t question it. this is the closest you’ll come to a declaration of love from chuuya for now and you’re okay with that. truthfully, you didn’t expect him to say anything.

you try your best to return the hold chuuya has on you. you get an arm around him loosely and rest your forehead on his shoulder. you’re still crying, like a baby. it would be embarrassing if it was anyone else. his hand is holding your head gingerly. it’s comforting and you manage to calm yourself down. you pull back, still sniffling but eyes no longer producing tears. 

your eyebrows furrow, something pressing returning to the forefront of your mind. “did you stop by my apartment? has anyone checked on mochi? is she okay?”

chuuya finally smiles for the first time in what feels like days — it might have actually been days since he last did. he pulls out his phone and produces a picture of the torti that kouyou had sent him. he hands the phone to you and you smile fondly as you let out a small puff of air, relief spreading throughout your chest.

“i asked kouyou to bring her to my apartment for the time being. i think she’s taken a liking to it.” 

you look at the picture then back up at chuuya, entirely unamused. “have you seen your apartment. i could fit like five of mine in it? of course she likes it there.”

something warm spreads across chuuya’s entire being. this scene is oddly familiar. reminiscent of the older couple from earlier. this was pure happiness, this is what it felt like. 

chuuya was going to make sure to cherish it deeply and keep it safe at all costs.

[iiseult]

Oooh open requests! May I have King Baldwin with a wife reader who sweetly helps him treat his wounds regardless of how he tells her not to come into direct contact with his skin? Please, do it nice and fluffy, if it's not too much trouble! Thank you!

Wedding Night: Baldwin IV x reader

CWs → fluff, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, leprosy, christianity and mentions of god, reader and baldwin just got married!

Note: This is the first request I've ever responded to! Thank you so much for sending it in, I really hope you enjoy! <3 Also this was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away

Wordcount: 2k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Baldwin was laying on his stomach with his bandaged arms and legs stretched out across the large mattress, and his face nuzzled into a plush pillow. The day had been strenuous for him, requiring much more standing than he was accustomed to, and his body ached terribly. Though originally just on his hands and face, the disease had recently spread up past his wrist and onto a small patch of his back, causing an uncomfortable burning sensation every time his clothing brushed against it. He was waiting for his physician to arrive and apply his nightly soothing salve, which usually helped to relieve some of the discomfort that resulted from the intense dryness of his skin. But when the door opened, instead of his physician, it was you. 

Hastily, he sat up, looking around to find something to cover himself with. Besides the bandages wrapped around his ribcage, arms, and the middle of his face, the only thing he had on was a pair of white linen shorts. You covered your mouth and giggled as he scrambled to grab his robe from the nearby chair it was draped over.

“My lord, that really won’t be necessary. I’m only going to take it right back off once you put it on,” you said playfully, closing the door behind you and sauntering towards him. You were carrying a small basket in your left hand. He furrowed his brow and instinctually clutched the fabric to his chest, hoping it covered most of his exposed skin. A wave of heat rushed to his head, and he suddenly felt a bit dizzy.  

“Lady Y/N– I mean, Your Highness, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice betraying his mild panic as his eyes followed you across the bedroom. You had changed out of your wedding gown in favor of a tightly fitting dress of a deep emerald green and a low neckline– typical attire for a bride on her wedding night. Heat rose to his cheeks as he admired his new queen’s attractive figure, on display just for him. He really hadn’t been expecting this. You had to know that, given his condition, consummating the marriage would be more trouble than it was worth, and attempting to sire an heir with him would be a completely fruitless endeavor. Why, then, were you standing before him, looking like the very picture of grace and beauty? You smiled gently at him, setting down the basket and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“Let me help you. Please, lie back down so I can take those bandages off,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. You waited a moment, but he only gawked, eyes still shamelessly concentrating on your choice of wardrobe. You sighed and placed a hand over his bandaged one, looking deeply into his eyes. 

“I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

He hummed sadly, shaking his head no, knowing he could not give you what you wanted. 

“I believe that you would, but I cannot allow it. If you were to come into contact with my bare skin…” he trailed off. You bit your lip. You knew he wouldn’t agree to it. 

He noticed your disappointment, and his eyes softened a little. 

“Look at you, your skin is so pure…if anything were to happen to it on my account, I could never forgive myself. Not only because of the pain it would inflict upon you, but also for my own selfish reasons.” He spoke slowly, letting his words sink in. 

“My wife, you are so beautiful, and so smart. You have so much to give, and you are everything I am not. If you were to put yourself at risk of becoming like me, you would be condemning yourself to a short, bitter life of wasted potential. Though I may not be long for this world, I want to spend the remainder of my days admiring you and all that you bring. Please do not forsake the gifts God has given you for fleeting desires of the flesh,” he begged. His blue eyes were so wide, pleading, swimming with genuine emotion, but it wasn’t enough to break you. You knew what you wanted.

“Baldwin,” you said, addressing him directly for the first time, “Just this once, please. Let me do this for you.” 

You tugged lightly at the fabric bunched up in his grasp. He resigned, allowing you to pull it away and discard it at the foot of the bed, leaving his mostly bare chest exposed to your intimate gaze. No woman had ever seen this much of him before. He watched as your eyes traced his body, beginning at his delicate neck and protruding collar bones, then down to the smooth expanse of creamy skin covering his chest, and finally to his well-defined middle. Those parts of him had yet to be contaminated by his affliction. You had yet to ever come into contact with his bare skin, but the way you were studying him, he could almost feel the sweet sensation of your fingertips ghosting over his body. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry if you had hopes of…enjoying a true wedding night with me, but I must be honest with you, even if it does cause me great pain and regret-��� 

You hushed him quietly, clasping his hand in yours a little tighter. 

“No, my love, you don’t have to explain to me. I understand. That is not what I came for. I simply wanted to take care of my husband.” You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you gazed down at him lovingly. He let out a breath and untensed his shoulders, relieved that he wasn’t letting you down after all. The sight of you smiling down at him with all the love in the world melted his heart, and his resolve broke. 

“Alright. But please promise me you will cleanse yourself thoroughly afterwards. We must do everything we can to prevent the spread,” he whispered, dropping his hand to allow you to have your way with him. 

Slowly, carefully, you reached for him, stretching your fingertips out and finally grazing them against the middle of his chest. He inhaled sharply, watching in awe. Your touch was feather-light, but it sent a spark of heat straight to his heart. His skin tingled. Gently, you applied a bit of pressure, encouraging him to lay back. He stared into your eyes and refused to look anywhere else as he readjusted his position, locks of blond hair shifting away from his brow as he reclined.

“That’s it, just like that. Perfect. Now, just relax, I brought some oils and salves for you. I’m going to take this bandage off now, okay?” You said, reaching for his wrapped hand. He nodded, and you slowly began unwinding the linens, peeling them away to reveal the most decayed part of his body; his right hand. Any skin left intact on it was shaded by a grayish hue, and the rest was just angry, red, open sores. You fought the urge to wince, not because it disgusted you, because it didn’t, but because you empathized with Baldwin, feeling the pain he must have felt in that moment. The bandages you removed were dotted with blood and other secretions from the angry wounds. 

You continued unraveling, all the way up his arm, and its condition gradually improved the further up you got. Then you moved to the other arm, repeating the same process. Soon, it was time to attend to the linens coiled around his torso, protecting the rash on his back. 

“Can you sit up for me, please?” 

He wordlessly obeyed, watching you work through his curtain of fine, golden hair. You scooted over until you were fully seated on the bed, face to face with him. He was suddenly glad for the bandage covering most of his cheeks and nose, so you didn’t detect the blush rapidly spreading across them. 

You reached around with your left arm and placed your cool palm against his shoulder blade to steady him as you pulled away the bandages. He sat as still as possible, not sure what to do with himself. His heart was about to beat out of his chest. Your hand was so soft, so slow…it was lulling him into a trance. He sighed deeply, letting the air roll all the way through his lungs. You deftly unweaved the bandage with your delicate fingers, working swiftly to avoid any discomfort that the pulling might cause him. Soon, all that remained was his face. 

Wordlessly, you slid a hand up the back of his neck and cradled his head in your palm, threading your fingers through his curls. He let his head fall back, confident that you would support him, and closed his eyes. A quiet rumble emanated from the back of his throat when he felt your fingertips brush his forehead. Then, you peeled off the last bandage, finally exposing the sensitive skin of his face to the cool evening air. 

Yes, his complexion was blemished and inflamed, as you expected. His nose was red and dry, some of the skin flaking off completely. His lips were in much the same condition. A smattering of pink blotches covered his handsome cheeks. But to you, nobody had ever looked closer to perfect. You grinned and cupped his face between your hands, gently circling your thumb over his cheek. His pretty blue eyes crinkled up at the corners as he smiled back, letting out a short laugh he never meant to let out. 

“You are such a beautiful boy, Baldwin. I love seeing your smile so much,” you said, tracing his bottom lip. That smile only grew as he closed his eyes in bliss. Your warmth was almost too much for him to handle. 

“I’m going to apply the salve now, okay?” you asked, gently laying his head down on his pillow and reaching for a bottle from your basket. 

“Mhmm,” he hummed contentedly. The smell of lavender and chamomile permeated the air as you scooped up a large blob of the salve and gently smeared it over his cheekbones. He sighed in relief as soon as it touched his parched skin, his pink lips parting. Soon, his face had absorbed most of the moisture, making him glisten in the candlelight like he was made of porcelain, and you moved onto his back, having him turn over. You ran your hands over the plains of his shoulder blades, massaging the tissue to help relieve any aches that may have built up. He groaned into the pillow in satisfaction. You smiled, continuing your ministrations. 

Needless to say, Baldwin had never experienced anything remotely similar to this before. The way you handled him and didn’t shy away from coming into direct contact with the most afflicted parts of his body made his stomach do flips. Maybe he could get used to this. 

‘I think I’m all done, my king. You can turn back over,” you said softly, putting the cork back in your bottle and stowing it away in the basket. Baldwin stretched leisurely and rolled over, hair partially obscuring his half-lidded eyes and crooked smile. He suddenly looked so young; only eighteen years old and he had already led an army. 

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, reaching out to grab your hand, bravely intertwining your fingers. He figured the damage had already been done, and there was no harm in a few more precious seconds of warmth. So he swiftly lifted your hand and pressed it to his delicate lips, almost burning your skin with the lingering passion in his touch. 

Now it was your turn to blush. 

[wannabeschyulersister]

might as well be drunk in love

*part two to lovelorn and nobody knows*

part one

warnings: mentions of a panic attack

It had been four and a half months since you left The Bear behind. Despite being so heartbroken over the what happened, you made yourself get up each day. There wasn’t time to let the sadness consume you. You had to move on.

Your dream one day was to open your own restaurant and you couldn’t do that if you were wallowing.

Part of you wanted to cut everyone off for the fresh start that you so desperately wanted. But it wasn’t their fault that you were heartbroken.

Plus, Tina would kick your ass if you stopped talking to her.

So, you kept up with everyone. Minus Carmen. It was just easier this way. The others mentioned him a couple of times and you’d noticed that it got easier and easier to hear his name without it hurting you.

You kept yourself busy with work and maintaining friendships that you built at The Bear while also making new ones. You tried so very hard to keep that tattooed blue-eyed man out of your mind.

The restaurant that you were a sous chef now wasn’t as flashy as The Bear had turned out to be. It still had that family-like style that you liked.

You still followed the same habits that you had at The Bear. So, you grabbed your coat and headed outside for your break. It was around 6:30. You liked to have some calming moments before the dinner rush.

When you stepped out the back door to the alley, you were stunned to see Carmen standing there leaning against the wall.

You both just stood there for a few seconds not saying anything. You wondered if you were truly losing it. If he was just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey.” He said snapping you out of your thoughts. He looked good like always. He was wearing his classic blue jeans, plain white tee and an olive bomber jacket. His hair was haphazardly styled but still looked incredible.

“What are you doing here?”

“I figured you still followed the same break time.”

“How did you know where I worked?”

“Syd told me. Well, I uh, I begged her to tell me. I didn’t know if you’d answer my calls. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Why you really left the restaurant. I asked everyone when you left for a reason why. They didn’t know. Or they just didn’t want to tell me.”

“I already told you why I left.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t believe you, (Y/n).”

“I don’t have time for this.” You started to walk away but Carmen quickly moved in front of you. He blocked the back door.

“You practically ignored me the last two weeks you were there. You didn’t answer my calls and stopped texting me. Was it- did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” You quickly answered.

“Then what was it? I’ve been drivin’ myself crazy tryin’ to figure out why you left.”

“Because I’m in love with you!” You wanted to scream out.

Carmen froze. “You’re what?”

Shit. Looks like you actually did say it out loud.

“Uh, I didn’t mean-“

“Wait, you left because you have feelings for me?”

“Please forget that I said that. I didn’t mean it and I- I know that you’re-“ you felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack. You couldn’t believe that you’d blurted out that you were in love with Carmen to him.

“Hey. Hey, take a deep breath.” You felt Carmen cup your face between his hands. His face was so close to yours if you leaned up, your lips would be on his.

Carmen breathed in deeply with you, held it for four seconds and then exhaled. The breathing technique normally worked for you but it helped how close in proximity he was. His touch alone put you at ease.

You were more completely overwhelmed instead of having a panic attack. You knew the difference. The embarrassment of having told Carmen that you were in love with him made you just want to fall out.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly after a few moments.

“No, I’m mortified.”

You heard him chuckle, “That’s a first for me. I’ve never had someone say they’re mortified with being in love with me.”

Taking a step back, you removed yourself from his grasp. In that moment, you’d forgotten that he was spoken for. He had a girlfriend. It was inappropriate to be so wrapped up.

“I shouldn’t have said that. You’re with Claire and I respect relationships.”

“(Y/n)-“

“No, you shouldn’t be here. You should be with your girlfriend and I have to get back to work.”

Carmen raised his voice, “(Y/n)!” He stepped closer to you again, “Claire and I broke up.”

“What?”

“After you left, I, uh, I took it really hard. I don’t know if Sydney told you.”

You shook your head, “I told them I didn’t want to hear anything about…you. Or Claire for that matter.”

“I didn’t want to really interact with anyone. Even more than usual. I missed having you around and-and our talks during our break. You always put me in a good fuckin’ mood just by your presence. Sometimes when things were stressful as fuck, I’d look over at you, and-and you’d smile at me and-“

“And what?” He literally had you hanging on every word.

“And I knew that everything would be okay.” He answered looking deeply into your eyes, “When Claire confronted me about how I’d been actin’, I realized then that what we had it wasn’t how it should be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I should get those fuckin’ butterflies that people always talk about. I should be at ease when she’s around. I should be able to sit in silence with her but things not be so damn awkward. It should be comfortable. It should be like how I feel with you.” Carmen finished.

What a turn of events this conversation had turned out to be. One minute, you thought he was some illusion and the next he was practically confessing that he had feelings for you too.

“You have feelings for me?”

Carmen nodded, “It took me to realize it when you walked out of The Bear for the last time. I was scared that I’d never see you again. I gave you space because I thought that’s what you wanted. But, I’m crazy in love with you. I didn’t want to not tell you how I feel.”

“I’m glad you did tell me. I don’t think I’d ever have the courage to tell you.”

“I wish you would’ve. I feel like we wasted a lot of time where we could’ve been together.”

“And what would we be doing if we were together?” You confidently took a step closer to him again. He was close enough to kiss.

Carmen smiled, “Well, first, I’d grab you here,” he placed his hands on your waist pulling you towards his body, “then, I’d lift up your chin lightly,” he did so.

His face tilted down towards you, “and then I’d kiss you.”

When he finally pressed his lips against yours, the world around you went silent. In that damn moment, you didn’t even remember your name.

You didn’t care that it was freezing outside. You didn’t care that you were most likely past your fifteen minutes on your break. You just cared that Carmen Berzatto was kissing you.

The back door opened and you heard your friend and the pastry chef call your name, “(Y/n)? Do you always make out with strangers on your break?”

This made the both of you laugh. “I have to get back inside.”

“Can I come and pick you up afterwards? I want to see you again tonight.” Carmen asked after he kissed you softly one last time.

“I get out around 10. Don’t be a minute late, Berzatto.”

“I wouldn’t dare be late.”

[writingforcuteppl]

i think i’m getting lost

PAIRING: Sanzu Haruchiyo x f!Haitani!Reader

SUMMARY: You never really understood why your boyfriend or brothers killed and found it thrilling until you had to do it for self-defense, and now you’re wondering if something is wrong with you. 

GENRE: Angst, just a little bit suggestive.

WARNINGS: MURDER, mentions of blood, declining mental health, swearing, stalking, sexual assault. Please read at your own discretion. If you think this may trigger you, please forget all of this and continue with your day. Put your mental health first.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k words

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“For fucks sake, Ran, answer your damn phone,” Kakucho muttered under his breath. He has been in this situation so many times, cleaning everyone's mess after they decided to just kill or mess up with someone they considered a threat to Bonten, but it was the first time you were involved. 

“How is she?” Kakucho asked Sanzu, who was amused by the view. You were in silence. Face, hands, clothes covered in blood. You’ve never looked hotter in his eyes.

You couldn’t stop looking at the body of the man in front of you who lay lifeless. You really didn’t mean it. He wasn’t supposed to be dead.

“Finally, you shitheads. We need you, now.” You couldn’t really understand who Kaku was talking to, but by the club noise coming out from his phone, you could just figure he was speaking to one of your brothers.

“Hey, princess, look up.” Sanzu squatted in front of you and put his hand under your chin, making you look at your boyfriend for the first time since he arrived. You looked briefly into his eyes and then directed your sight to the bat that was lying near the man’s head. You just shook your head and sighed. ‘This is gonna be more complicated than I thought,’ Sanzu thought.

“They are already on their way. I don’t want to move anything until they arrive. Maybe they will be able to figure out what the hell happened.” Sanzu tried his best not to look excited. He wanted to know how his sweet angel was able to fucking murder someone.

“Let’s clean you up, okay?” You didn’t answer, Sanzu. He picked you up and took you to your bathroom to shower and change you. As Sanzu was taking your clothes off, you finally called his name.

“Well, cat didn’t get your tongue,” he chuckled and waited patiently for you to say something else. He was only patient when it came to you.

“He’s been stalking me for months now. I just… I didn’t want to tell you anything because I knew you were going to go violent. But oh well.” you blurted out. Not a single hint of distress or sadness or even panic. You were too calm, even for Sanzu’s likeness.

“He ended up just like he would be if you told me, you know?”

“Yeah, I just thought that I was going to be able to figure out how to fix this myself in a more civil way.”

“Not the best time to tell you this, but god, you look so good covered up in blood,” Sanzu finally blurted out, and you smiled. Of course, he would get riled up by that.

“You think?” You tried to sound playful, but something, which Sanzu believed was fear, made that statement unsettling. He just knew he needed to wait for you to speak, but in the end, you always ended up spilling out everything that was in your mind.

Sanzu was removing the blood from your face with the water that was running down when he could hear a commotion coming from your living room. Your brothers finally arrived.

“Do you think you can finish showering yourself?” He didn’t want to admit it, but he was worried—the type of worry he gets whenever Mikey is too silent for his own liking.

“San, I’m ok. Believe me.” He looked into your eyes and knew you were telling him the truth. "I’m still an adult. I can function normally.” Sanzu only nodded and gave you a little kiss on the temple. You just smiled. He wasn’t the type of guy to get too affectionate, but when he did, you knew he meant it.

As the water continued to fall over your body, your mind started to race. It wasn’t supposed to feel the way it did. Were you actually a bad person all this time? Were you just faking all that politeness? You just remembered the way you saw that bastard’s life fade from his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to feel good. 

As the minutes passed, you just played the events over and over again. All the tension that had been building up for months had been taken out on him. It was his fault, after all. But still, murder is wrong, right? But was it bad if it was in self-defense? 

You knew you had to go outside at any moment. For your own sake and your brothers', you decided to dress up and face whatever interrogation the Bonten executives had for you. You sighed. They cannot see that you enjoyed it. You aren’t like them. You tried to repeat that to yourself, but the more you thought about it, the more you concluded that you may be just like them.

When you arrived at your living room, the body and the bat were nowhere to be seen. Only a faint blood stain on your floor was visible. You couldn’t be surprised even if you wanted to. After all, they are part of Japan’s most dangerous criminal organization.

Rindou was the first to approach you. He hugged you. You expected you were going to cry, but you didn’t. You felt some kind of comfort and smiled.

“Before you ask, I swear I’m okay.” Ran raised his eyebrow at your confession. 

“Care to tell us what happened?” Rindou said while making you move from the middle of the living room to the nearest couch.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You tried to laugh the tension out, but no one believed you were actually that good, not even Sanzu.

“Fine.” you took a deep breath before explaining what happened. “I think Sanzu has already told you this man had been kinda stalking me for quite some time now.”

“Why didn't you tell us? We would’ve fixed this sooner and quicker.” Ran questioned you, and you could tell he was angry. It only took one look from you to make him go soft. “I just don’t understand. You shouldn’t have done this. Not you. You were the good one, the one that was the best out of everyone.” Your face twitched at his words. Your mind was everywhere, and you couldn’t come up with a proper answer. 

“Shut up, Ran.” Rindou was also mad, but mostly because you didn’t trust them enough so they could take care of this, take care of you.

“Ran, let her finish. You are no one to talk. None of us, actually.” You nodded at Kakucho as a form of gratitude. 

“I’m sorry, Ran. I know I should’ve. I really thought that I was going to be able to take care of this by myself, and I did, just… Not in the way I intended.” you stopped waiting for someone to say something else before continuing with your story. When nobody said anything, you continued.

“The thing is, it slowly turned into something more. It mostly started with him following me. I started to see him everywhere I went, too many times to think it was just a coincidence. Then I started to receive presents and packages with stuff that included photos of me when I was outside by myself, photos of me in my apartment, and the last week were photos taken from inside the apartment.” You made a pause, trying to keep calm and not get angry.

“AND WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?” Ran shouted at you. “You let all of this get more dangerous for you.”

“I…”

“Don’t you dare to say it was because you wanted to fix it yourself?”

“YOU KNOW WHY? YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO KNOW WHY I DIDN’T TELL YOU SHIT?” now you were screaming back at Ran “BECAUSE YOU CAN ONLY THINK WITH YOUR DICK. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I CALLED YOU AND YOU JUST SENT ME A FUCKING MESSAGE SAYING “TALK YOU LATER”? Please, Ran, I don’t have to be a fucking psychic to know you were too busy fucking everything that has legs.”

“You don’t get to flip this on me now. What about Rin, or Sanzu?”

“Please, Rin is just as you and Sanzu would’ve done way worse than just killing him. Besides, he only follows Mikey’s orders. I’m not dumb, Ran. Even if he’s my boyfriend, he barely takes things seriously when it comes to anyone besides Mikey.” You said the last thing in a whisper. You looked at Sanzu, and you saw guilt on his face for the first time since you started dating him.

“She’s right, Ran.” Rindou covered his face with his hands. How did they leave you all alone? They were your big brothers. They should’ve been more attentive.

You whipped out some tears that started falling down your cheek. Sanzu, who was on your other side, only took your hand without even looking at you. You didn’t mean to call him out too. It just slipped. But deep down, you both knew what you said was the truth.

“I know we fucked up, but she has to understand. That’s why we are here for.” You sighed. He wasn’t mad because you just killed someone, but because, as he said, you shouldn’t be the one to do something. “I’m sure that fucker deserved it. I mean, you saw how she left him. Barely recognizable.” 

“Damn right she did!” Sanzu smirked, and Rindou only shook his head at him. At least he wasn’t mad at you. 

“Today, when I arrived here, I just knew something was off. It didn’t feel right. When I least expected it, I felt someone grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth. I’m not stupid, but I knew it was him.” You huffed. “He started to…” you ribbed your hands against your face, trying to get the courage to say the following words. “He started to touch me…” you said as you moved your hands around your body so they could get the idea. Your brothers only nodded, and Sanzu was frowning.

“I just knew if I didn’t do something quick, he was going to do something to leave me unconscious. And well. We don’t have to be a genius to know why he was actually here, right? So I remembered that Sanzu left a bat a few days ago here.”

“I bought that as a joke, but I’m kinda glad it helped you.” You gave Sanzu a small smile and continued.

“Well, after that, I just hit him with my elbow on the stomach. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, and he wasn’t as strong as you guys,” you said, referring to your brothers. “I just ran for the bat, and the moment I felt him near me, I just started hitting him with the bat. And the rest is history, I guess.” You tried ending the description of the events as quickly as possible. You omitted the little insignificant detail, which is why right now you feel like going down a hole you will never be able to get out of. Maybe Ran and Rindou didn’t notice it, but Sanzu knew better. Interrogating people too many times made him kind of an expert, and he knew when people were not lying but hiding something else.

You saw how everyone was in silence. Kakucho was the one who broke it. 

“Well, it sounds like it was mostly a self-defense situation. I will take care of it, don’t worry.” You thank him. You knew you were going to be fine if Kakucho was the one who would make sure no one ever linked this to you.

Ran and Rindou tried to come up with an apology, but nothing came out. How can they say anything now? They fucked up big time.

“Hey,” you said, reaching Ran since he was standing near your front door. You knew he was beating himself up for this, so you only hugged him. “I’m okay, I swear.” You tried to comfort him, and he just hugged you in return. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow. The three of us. Right?” Rindou nodded. They always thought that since you were the youngest, they should always take care of you, and this was quite the opposite of what they thought.

“Ok, I’ll see you then.” You knew they wanted to amend things, to at least make it up to you, and they wanted to be able to talk without any of their colleagues listening.

Ran Kakucho and Rindou said their goodbyes, leaving you and Sanzu alone. As you returned to the sofa, you were trying to come up with some kind of apology for what you said earlier. You always knew Sanzu was like that; he was devoted to only one person, and it never bothered you, even if it sounded like that a few moments ago. You never really talked to Mikey, but the few times you’ve interacted with him, he wasn’t mean or anything like that. His presence wasn’t uncomfortable at all. You enjoyed the silence.

“I-”

“No, let me talk.” He interrupted you before you could apologize. He grabbed your hand as he made you sit on his lap. “First of all, I’m sorry if I made you think I wouldn’t do anything for you. You don’t understand it. I would kill for you, just as I would for Mikey. You are mine, which means I will do whatever it takes to make sure you are happy and safe.” You were trying to hide your smile. After so long, Sanzu was saying the words you’ve only dreamed of.

“Ok,” you didn’t know how to react to that confession. It felt good that you were speechless, so you just started playing with his hair. Sanzu grinned. 

“Good. Now, I’m not stupid. Care to say what you didn’t tell us before?” Fuck. Of course, he would know you weren’t telling him everything that happened. You knew you needed to get it out of your system, and maybe Sanzu was the best option. He would understand, right?

“Nothing important, really. It’s just… I enjoyed it. I don’t know why San, but the way I felt him go numb, the way I saw in his eyes his life fade away… Damn it, it shouldn’t feel like that. I don’t know what happened, Sanzu. I’m actually scared.” you finally started crying. It felt good to finally be able to get it out, but it was horrible at the same time. “I’ve seen you, my brothers, everyone in Bonten, kill, and it is scary. I just don’t know what happened today.” As you were sobbing, Sanzu cleaned the tears on your face.

“We both know I’m not the best person to discuss this. I know what you mean, and…” you saw he was having trouble coming up with words. “I just want you to know that this is the first and last time you will feel like this. I swear on my life that I will take care of all these types of situations so you don’t feel conflicted or scared. I really don’t know how to help you emotionally, angel, and I wish I could help you. Maybe Kaku would be able to help you with this feeling, but apart from that I can help with making you feel safe. I promise.” you started to calm down, not enough to make the crying stop, but enough to make you feel at ease.

“Thanks, Sanzu,” you whispered.

“Anything for you, my angel”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

n a v i g a t i o n

[cutielights]

Hello! Can i please request pure wholesome young sister!reader who has the good luck gift?and she use it to help her family out in anyway.

Hc, one-shot... Anything you want.

It's like; When reader just pat her brother's head while they play gacha game *BOOM* all they roll - temporarily - is nothing less then rare characters and weapons...etc.

Y E S

Haha, and again, I write g/n readers with no gender in mind. Bc for ages I avoided F! Readers like the plague and still kinda do

@snipersiniora @moonchhu TAG LIST

Lucky! Sibling

When all of your brothers powers began manifesting, you were really disappointed, it seemed like you hadn’t gotten anything from these “mystic weapons”

It wasn’t a big deal or anything, but it did make you feel left out. But hey, at least you’re in the same boat as Dee right? Except, he hadn’t picked a weapon and kept his Tech Bō…

But that’s fiiineeee, everything is fiinnneee, don’t panic. Don’t panic. D O N ‘ T P A N I C

Yeah… you were pretty miserable about it for a while. But hey! At least you can be happy for your brothers, that’s not so bad, especially watching Leo try to open portals.

“Nardo, I’d love it if you had a portal right about now-“

“I’m WORKING on it!” And there it was, a big portal, in no time at all.

“Wow you’re getting good at this.”

And that was just the start of everything

“Aww come on! Raph can’t jump that high!”

“Yes you can! I believe in you!” :D

And would you know it? He made it by the skin of his teeth

“Nooooo, I need it to drop an Ultra Legendary, not a stupid normal Legendary.”

“This next one might be.”

“Oh would you look at that.”

It took Donnie inventing the mystic lenses on his goggles for everyone to finally catch on to what was going on, including yourself

“You’re kidding right?”

“Dearest ___, would I use a faulty piece of technology? Let alone make it myself?”

“Yes.”

“Scoff! Rude.”

“Woaahhhh! You have to come out painting with me! Every single one will look perfect, AND we won’t be seen by humans!”

Learning how to make things more or less in people’s favour is fun, but you seem to struggle making it happen for yourself. On purpose at least

“Oh that worked? I mean, of course it did, I am amazing and super great at using my mystical powers.”

<3 thanks for the request cutie

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfics - Soulmates

Words: 824

@wolfstarmicrofic

***

It was a truth universally acknowledged by the sixth years that Sirius Black had a secret.

Until his seventeenth birthday, he would take any opportunity to strip down to his pants, or even less. But that suddenly changed. He'd even stopped getting changed in the dormitory, taking his clothes into the bathroom to dress each morning and evening.

Marlene was convinced he’d gotten a tattoo he was embarrassed about. Remus and James were more concerned about spell damage from his family. Sirius point blank refused to discuss it with any of them, and after a month, they eventually stopped pushing the matter.

On Lily’s birthday, something happened that made Remus panic more than the possibility of spell damage littering Sirius’ skin. He was finishing up prefect rounds when he heard a sniffle from the cosy alcove in the library. He poked his head around the corner and was startled to see Lily wiping her eyes furiously.

He was by her side in a second, “What happened?” She shook her head. “Lils. Is it Snape? Did he—“

“No, it’s not— it’s not that.” She sniffed, “Something appeared on my skin today and I have a feeling that I know what it means but…”

“A soul mark?”

“I think so. It’s on my fucking collarbone. At least Sirius’ is on his—“ She covered her mouth quickly. “Shit, you didn’t hear that.”

“Sirius has a soul mark? Fuck. That’s why he stopped getting his kit off twice a week?” Remus stared at her collarbone as if he expected to be able to see it through her robes. “Wait. He showed you?”

She shook her head, “I saw it by accident. Someone gave him the password to the prefects' bathroom.” She said pointedly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Remus said with a smirk. “So, on your collarbone? Can I see?”

She sighed, undid the top couple of buttons on her shirt, and slid it aside, pushing her robes back. On her collarbone, several fine lines made up a pair of delicate antlers.

Remus pressed his lips together. “Remus Lupin, don’t you dare laugh at me.” She glared at him. “It’s ’Prongs’, right? That’s what Prongs means?”

He nodded, “Yeah. His patronus is a stag.”

“You all think everyone is so stupid and oblivious, I swear. There was a whole month last year where those three idiots claimed to have a lisp as a result of a potion gone wrong. You could very clearly see the mandrake leaf under their tongues the whole time. They’re unregistered animagi.” She did up her buttons slowly. “I’m guessing Pete is some kind of rodent and Sirius is a gross, mangy, little dog.”

“Who else knows?” Remus had frozen. “They were so sure that they wouldn’t be found out. Idiots.”

“Nobody that I know of. I wasn’t about to tell anyone, I figured it related to the moons.” She smiled at him. “Honestly, the day I figured it out was the day I thought ‘Huh, maybe Potter isn’t a complete tosser’. But if you tell him I said that, I’ll hex you so hard.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“And yours with me, always.” She sighed again, “James’ birthday is in March, right?”

“Yeah, a couple of weeks after mine. Are you going to tell him?”

She hummed thoughtfully, “It’d probably be funnier to wake up and let him see it himself. But that means covering myself up for two months. I don’t want to get all obsessive and weird about it like Sirius.”

“Is it bad? Sirius’ mark?”

“I— It wouldn’t be fair to tell you about it.” Lily touched his shoulder gently. “He’ll tell you all when he’s ready.”

“Yeah, I hope you’re right.” He stood up. “Anyway, I believe there’s a bottle of Firewhiskey or two waiting back in our dorm. Marlene will be getting antsy.”

***

On Remus’ birthday, he awoke at 7:37 am to a very peculiar tingling sensation on his left bum cheek. He rushed to the bathroom, not checking to see if anyone else was awake yet. He twisted around, pulling down his boxers on one side, trying to look in the mirror, but it was too high. He tried twisting around again.

“It’s stars.” A quiet voice said from behind him. “Canis Major.”

Remus looked up into the mirror and made eye contact with Sirius, who lingered in the doorway. “And yours?”

“The moon phases.” He shrugged, lowering his pyjama bottoms slightly as if he hadn’t been shielding his body from scrutiny for almost six months.

Remus took a step toward Sirius, not taking his eyes off the nine small circles, but before he could say anything, James burst in, took in the scene of his two friends admiring one another’s arses, and quickly retreated.

“Pete, do not go in there!” They heard him shout from under his pillow.

Sirius started to chuckle as a smile tugged at Remus’ lips “Happy Birthday, Moons.”

[author’s note: idk if it’s because I’m currently on day 8 of a covid infection (send help) but the image of Remus trying to see his bum in the mirror and essentially chasing his tail like a dog has me laughing, coughing and wheezing so hard.]

[artificialbreezy]

Hey let's imagine Jolly chasing you down with a mask on and holding a knife to you while he fucks you hard and makes you cry(cause the crying turns him on)

i’ll never know peace with you, god fucking dammit. sorry i switched up a teeny tiny bit i got so mf carried away.

This blurb may contain content that is unsettling to some, please continue with caution. your mental health matters.

TW: a game of cat and mouse (he chases her), masks, crying, mean!jolly, knife play, a teeny tiny bit of blood, no actual p in v, mentions of breeding

it’s his favorite game. before he leaves for tour he sends you up the cabin, just so you can relax and decompress and he’ll join you when he gets home. he’ll go straight there from the airport.

and you never hear his car pull up, you’re too invested in the book you’re reading when the lights just go out. the panic is only a little at the moment, you’ll go outside, down by the tree line and check the box. quick and easy fix right? wrong.

something in your gut told you not to go down there, stay right in that cabin. go find your phone and call Jolly. he should’ve landed by now. you decided against your better judgement you were fine, nothing bad has ever happened here before.

when you hear the snaps of the branches, and the breathing of someone else behind you that’s when the panic fully set in. no shoes, no phone, just run.

you’d never been in the woods before, Jolly always told you there was no need. he’d take you eventually. you didn’t know where you were going and how you ended up thinking that the woods was the place to hide but fuck it.

seeing what you thought to be a tree, you ran off to the side a little hoping you could catch your breath before you went any further.

what did i get myself into? Jolly’s gonna get home and see my car and not me in the cabin, my phones there and i’m not. oh my god, he’s gonna find me dead. thoughts were running rapid in your brain. this can’t be real. crouching down next to the tree trunk, you set your hand out to balance yourself to met with a shoe, and a dark chuckle.

you didn’t have time to scream before his hand was over your mouth. tears falling at a rapid pace, panic flooding your veins. all you could do was cry.

“missed you a lot, can’t believe you ran from me, pet.” voice was muffled by whatever was covering his face. “promise i won’t hurt you too bad, just wanna play a little game.”

“i’ll give you a head start. i catch you, i ruin you.” his voice was just above a whisper. “run, little lamb.”

my feet were moving faster than my brain. just go. get inside. hide.

i hit the cement outside the front door, a wave of safety rushed over me. taking a breath, i reached for the door knob when a hand much larger than mine pushed itself against the door. “caught you.”

no sounds came out of my mouth, just freezing in time. unable to process fully what was happening, why i was excited, what was gonna happen to me, why was he chasing me?

he stepped forward, placing his hands against my hips. “remember the safe word?” he spoke. “yes,”

that’s all he needed. he picked up, putting half my body over his shoulder. his one hand opening the door, the other creeping up the back of my thigh.

Jolly didn’t have to walk far since the cabin was pretty small. i was falling onto the bed before i had a moment to think. “Jolly, lights”

“no. you trust me yeah?” you nodded up at him. “then you don’t get to see. you’ll feel what i give you, and you’ll say thank you. read that little book i over heard you talking about. does all that dirty, fucked up stuff turn your little brain into mush?”

his hand disappeared from my body. listening to the sound of rustling next the bed. “been thinking about all that gross, mean things huh?” there was a piece of cold metal against my ankle, slowly dragging it closer to my center.

he pressed the point into the flesh of my thigh harder, a sharp pain shooting up your leg. “pain is pleasure, pet. always remember that.” the metal no longer cold, and unwelcoming.

“thank you, Jolly.” breathless words leaving my lips.

he chuckled, dragging the blade up the front of my thighs. stopping once he reached the lace of my panties. “think if i were to press this against your cunt, you make it shine?” the back of the blade worked its way against the clothed part of my center. pushing against the damp spot that’s been building since i felt his breath at the tree line.

“would you look at that? think you really are pathetic. this turning you on that much? don’t even need to get you prepped huh? could just slip right in there. listen to the sweet whine that you make when i stretch out your cunt after a while.”

rolling my hips against the blade, a whine rolling out of my throat. his big hand pressed firmly on my lower stomach, pushing me back against the bed. “stay. still.” he grumbled.

his fingers pushed the lace away from my slit, soft touch against my skin. “mmm, knew you’d be ready. you’re fucking soaked, already making such a mess.” finger slowly slipping into my hole, “she’s just sucking me in, pet. think she needs more? bet you do, greedy fucking cunt.” his other hand pressing a smack against my thigh.

“feel you squeezing, you close already? fucking pathetic.” his finger curled slightly, lips pressing soft kisses against my mound. “she just needs to be filled up, huh? needs to have my cum leaking out of her just for me to push right back in, can’t waste any of it. wanna see you nice and round. bet you’d like that, walking around showing everyone who you belong to.”

“fucking, shit. Jolly, please.” begging the man to let you have it.

“yeah, come on. let me feel you, baby. ohh, atta girl. there is she.”

his fingers stilled, head laying against my leg. “did so good, thank you for trusting me.”

“always, love you tons.”

i felt his cheeks move, telling me he was smiling.

“i love you too, let’s get this light on and you cleaned up.”

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 7

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,255

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), wound cleaning, arguments, Hurt Comfort, Panic Attack, Crying, Nightmare, talk of past trauma (dead brother), Not Edited

A/N: TLDR for the last chapter - Chris notices Y/N drifting slowly, and tries his best to keep her within a safe distance… but one night him and his brothers decide to film a car video. While in the house alone Y/N tries to distract herself from the bad thoughts… it doesn’t work, and she doesn’t want to interrupt the triplets, causing her to relapse and try to commit. She calls Chris, and the guys rush home to find her a bloody mess in the bathroom. (Nick didn’t see it because Chris made him leave, but Matt was really effected by what he saw) after cleaning her wounds, Chris leaves her with nick while he cleans up the mess in the bathroom (Matt left, barely even looking at her), while with nick she tells him everything. The chapter ends with Chris saying “who said I was pretending?”. This chapter picks up right where the last one ended.

if I missed something, please let me know

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

“I told Nick…” he just stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me anymore, there’s no point in lying anymore.”

“who said I was pretending?”

I stare into his icy eyes in the dim lighting, trying to figure out if this was some cruel joke. “Don’t say things you don’t mean Chris.” It’s lined with a venom developed from years of rejection.

“it’s not a lie.” He looks genuine, I want him to mean it. “I think I’m in love with you… we can talk about it in the morning, you need to sleep”

I try to protest, but he just nuzzles his head into the space between my collar and jaw. The adrenaline rush from the events of the night finally dies down, and I realize just how tired I am. Within minutes my heavy eyes drift shut, all thoughts of an explanation long gone.

“”“”“”“”“”

The sun through the window wakes me up, I reach over for Chris… the bed is cold where he usually lays. I lay in peace for a moment before my brain starts working.

Did I just imagine the conversation with Chris? Was it a lie he told so I didn’t try to kill myself again? Was it just the adrenaline rush that made him say it? What if I dreamt it all? What if-

Before I could keeps coming up with worse case scenarios, the bedroom door opened. Chris walked in carrying two plates of pancakes.

He sits down criss cross in front of me on the bed, handing me a plate and fork. “How are you feeling?” He asks right as I shove a piece of pancake into my mouth.

“much better now… you didn’t need to make me breakfast in bed.” I pause for a second, staring at my food while trying not to cry. “You also didn’t need to say that you love me…”

I hear him set his plate and fork down. “Yes I did… not for you, but for me.” With that I looked up at him. “I have been so scared to tell you how I felt, out of the possibility that it scares you away… but I can’t lose you Y/N, I can’t not tell you how I feel.”

He meant it.

I just stare at him, dumbfounded at how he could really mean it. I’ve never been the kind of girl that all the guys chase, especially guys that look like Chris. I’ve always struggled with how I see myself, and I never thought that I’d believe a man who says he loves me…

But here we are.

“When we’re done eating I need to change your bandages, and then we can watch a movie or something… if you want to, if you want to do something else that’s totally fine…”

He’s rambling, I love it.

I love him.

“”“”“”“”“”

it’s been a month since the incident, and I’ve never been happier… and I’ve never felt worse.

It's a normal Tuesday night this time… I can feel Chris tossing and turning. I open my eyes to see his face scrunched up in anguish, and I know that it’s my fault. This happens at least once a week.

It’s always the same:

-It starts with tossing and turning

-then he starts pleading (“no, no, please, it’s okay… baby… please, you have to be okay… please don’t leave me…”)

-I usually end up straddling him before gently shaking him awake

-he wakes up and hold me like he never thought he’d see me again, and he never tells me what his nightmares are about.

He doesn’t have to.

I remember the look in his eyes when he opened the door. The way he tried to keep it together, never letting his tears fall. I could hear him breaking down while he cleaned the bathroom floor.

I see that look in his eyes again when he opens them. “It’s okay baby… it’s just a nightmare… everything is okay now.” He burst into tears, pulling me into him. We stay like this until we end up falling back asleep. I wait until I had his breathing even out, and he starts snoring softly before letting myself fall back asleep.

I know he won’t talk about it in the morning, but I’ll still ask him.

“”“”“”“”“”

The vibe in the house has been tense since that night. I walk into the kitchen, and notice Matt staring at something on his phone.

“good morning.” I say, smiling in his direction.

he looks at me with a look of disgust, before leaving the room.

I’m tired of this… I’m going to follow him to his room to make him talk to me. He hasn’t said a word to me since he found out I was alive.

“Get out of my room.” He snaps in my direction. “I don’t want you here”

“Do you wish I died?” I didn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but it’s been the only thought in my head for the last month.

“Excuse me?” I can tell it offended him. That wasn’t my intention.

“I said ‘do you’… ‘wish that I had died’, it’s a yes or no question.” I didn’t mean to starts out this hostile, but it’s been building for longer than I wanted it to.

“how could you say something like that Y/N?” He has tears in his eyes now. Shit. “I can’t stand to look at you, but it’s not because I wish that you had died!” I clearly misread the situation before me. “I can’t look at you because every time I do, all I see is you on the floor, covered in your own blood. I can’t look at you because I see you, half dead, every time I close my eyes! I don’t sleep anymore Y/N!”

“Im so sorry…” I don’t know what else I can say. It’s true. I hate the way that my mistake has affected the people around me.

“No Y/N, it’s too late to apologize… did you even think about how traumatic finding you like that would be for us?”

“I know how you feel, I can help you with-” I’m cut off before I can finish my sentence.

“You don’t know shit about what this is like! I had to watch my brother patch up the slit wrists of my best friend… the love of his life, and all I could do was stand there!” His voice is shaking, but I can’t stop now.

“Don’t talk about me like you know anything about my life before I moved to Boston! I survived… I understand that you are struggling, but you don’t get to act like I died. I know exactly what you feel like, because I’ve been right where you are… the only difference is that my brother didn’t survive.”

I never told him about my brother, Chris and Nick are the only people in my life who know.

“You can’t possibly imagine the pain of finding your twin brother lying dead on the floor of his bedroom!” The words are coming quicker than I can process. “You never had parents that told you that they wish it had been you, you always got a birthday, and you never had to move to a different state because everyone knew that you tried to kill yourself… so don’t tell me that I don’t know what you’re going through!” I’m practically screaming by the end.

Then I’m crying.

And Matt is holding me while we both cry.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 2

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: M (corpses, harvesting violence) will be E in later chapters ❤️

a/n: thank you endlessly to @the-scandalorian who lent me her big beautiful beta brain, to @bageldaddy who made me blush with pride and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed my Ezra nerves by checking this dialogue like the queen she is ❤️

Series Masterlist

—

You know he’s waiting for you to speak, but you…can’t.

He takes his helmet off, and you can see his features more clearly. His skin has a ruddy look to it, like it’s been days since he’s last bathed or eaten well, or gotten a decent sleep. He looks older, more weary without the reflective dome hiding the finer lines of his tired features – but still, no less intimidating. 

He looks rougher, his sharp eyes darker and more assessing. 

Your eyes make a slow circuit between his hand, which still loosely holds a weapon, and his dead partner. 

There is no deal to be made here. Not for you, and you know it. 

“Kevva waits, girl.” The sharp snap of his words brings your attention back to his face. He looks impatient. “You ready to talk about that deal?”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, trying hard to fight against the sinking feeling in your chest. “What do you want.” 

It comes out more of a defeated statement than a question, and he studies you for a moment. 

“To be perfectly candid, I am in need of transit.”

You stare at him blankly, and he sighs with impatience. 

“I want your ship,” he states plainly. “However, I am not suggesting to leave you stranded if that’s what you’re thinking. As I find myself lacking….” He glances over at his dead partner for a moment. “I am generously proposing we join forces. Protection, for transport.”

“Protection?” you spit. “You gonna protect me as a partner like you did him?”

“He needed no protection, I can assure you that,” he huffs wryly. “But you?” He pauses in his speech, narrowing his gaze. “What is your plan here, anyway?”

Trying to appear like you have one, you steady your voice. “I’m here to dig.”

He laughs as if your statement is absurd. “I find myself disinclined to believe that, but let’s pretend for a moment that is the case. You dig. What then?”

“I’ll repair my ship and be on my way. Home, with something to sell when I get back.”

“And who is going to help you repair your ship?” he mocks. “You know how to do that too?” His eyes drift to your father’s lifeless form. “Seems your partner is out of commission. I think perhaps he was the mechanic?”

“He wasn’t my partner, I told you.” The corner he’s got you backed in displays plainly on your face. You shift your jaw, looking away. “I’ll find someone to help me. Someone –”

“A girl like you?” he interrupts, raising his eyebrows. “You wander into a camp of fringely mercs, raw, at the end of their tour, what happens? You appeal to their sympathies?” He shakes his head. “They have none. They are ruthless profiteers. You must have something to offer or they will find something to take from you.”

The emphasis he puts on the last few words makes his implication clear, and panic creeps into your limbs. 

“We’re in the same trough, you and I. Can’t say I was pleased to find your mare all black and cockways as she was supposed to be my redemption as well,” he muses, looking around at the poor state of the pod. “But I know how to fix her up. I can help you.”

He seems sincere enough in his offer, but everything he’s done thus far shows you his supposed sincerity means absolutely nothing. 

“I want someone else.” A childish statement, but the truth.

“Well I want a lot of things too, little bird.” He looks almost regretful for a moment, before leveling you with his gaze. ”Starting with your ship.”

Your mind still stuck on what he said about the other mercs on this planet, you wonder what’s stopping him from doing the same. 

“They will find something to take from you.”

Will he?

You could try to go it alone, but your first fucking hour alone on this planet has been nightmare enough to dissuade you from that course of action. If he doesn’t kill you to get this ship, the next person will. If he found you, others will, too. 

You think, buying yourself some time. 

“It’s clear you don’t belong here, little bird. I’m your safest route home,” he argues. “That is the goal, right?”

You bring your eyes back to him, wary and he seems to recognize something in your expression. When he slowly steps forward like he’s approaching a wild animal, you scoot back. 

“Hey,” his tone softens. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re no threat to me, a fragile little thing like you. Anyone else would have killed you outright by now, I promise you that. You have a functioning ship – a rarity in these parts. I can help you protect it.”

“Only because you want to use it,” you sneer, and the edge of his lips lift. 

“Of course,” he replies. “I’m not foolish enough to offer my services for nothing. I promise you no harm if you promise me the same.”

“You killed your partner. Just now, right in front of me. What’s stopping you from doing the same to me?”

“I could have killed you a thousand different ways by now.” His voice slips into something lower, menacing yet truthful. “Like I said, you’re no threat to me. Besides, I think your ship would be better piloted by two, am I right?”

Seeing no way out, you deflate. 

And nod. 

“I need to hear you say it, little bird,” he tilts his head with a light scold. 

You glare up at him. “Yes. I accept.”

“Excellent!” he says, clapping his hands together, the sound making you jump. “First things first. Let’s move these bodies.”

The bodies.

Forgetting all about your new deal with a murderer, your stomach drops at the reminder of moving your dad’s body. 

“What’s your name, by the way?” The stranger grunts with exertion, lifting his partner’s feet to drag his body into a prone position. Crouching, he begins to pat the dead man’s pockets down. 

He’s callous about it, perfunctory. Not gentle in the slightest which makes sense since the man is dead, but still, there is something about the deft way he’s going through everything he had on him that makes it known that this is not the first time he’s done this. Not by a long shot. You wonder if it’s just from his experience on this planet, or an indicator of something larger.

“Mine’s Ezra, if you were wondering.” He gives a teasing glance, making note of your rudeness. 

When you don’t offer it, he merely shrugs. “S’okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I understand your apprehension. But I’ll have to call you something.” He seems to ponder for a moment, placing loose items he’s deemed useful in a pile by the man’s hip. “Since you came down from out of the sky, I would say “Birdie” is a suitable choice.”

You pull a face he doesn’t see, and then he’s moving the belongings to the side, making a clear path to the door of the pod. When his eyes shift to rest on your dad’s body, a sudden urge flares within you to stop him.

“He got anything useful on him?” Ezra’s chin jerks towards it. 

On instinct, you follow his gaze, immediately regretting it. You turn away in revulsion, the pooled blood a dark, congealed mass that sticks in your vision. Closing your eyes, you shake your head with a tight movement. “I don’t think he had anything on him besides his, uh…drops. Everything else is here in the pod.”

If he wonders what you mean by “drops,” he doesn’t ask. Instead, he approaches the body and glancing back, frowns at your hesitant expression.

“Look. You don’t—” he sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice lowers. “I’ll need your help with the big guy, but I can do this one by myself.”

“No,” you protest, forcing yourself to move forward. You can still taste bile, sharp on your tongue. “I should be the one—”

He puts his hand on your arm, shaking his head. “No,” he says kindly, but firm. “You shouldn’t be. A girl shouldn’t have to put her own father in the ground.” He steps around you gently. “Tell you what. Why don’t you head outside and keep watch, little bird. Let me know if you see anyone coming. Make no mistake, there will be scavengers looking for the same opportunity I was, and we’ve got to protect our only means of escaping this planet.”

He gathers your helmet to place in your hands, checking your filters are connected and charged. 

In your hurry to get out of the pod and away from the body, you’re already sealing your helmet into place when he snatches the thrower off the floor.

“Hey,” he calls out sharply, just as you’re about to step out of the hatch. He thrusts the weapon towards you. “Don’t forget your thrower. Armed. Always armed here. Understood?” His gaze holds yours in weighted significance. 

You nod, taking it from his outstretched hand. “Okay.”

Opening the hatch, you step outside for the first time. 

Everything is green. The brush, the trees, the sky–all varying shades of the color. Dust floats through the air; aimless, toxic, suffocating. You wonder how long you would last if you took your helmet off. Studying the lush, towering trees, your eyes follow the paths of thick vines that both climb up the trunks and spill over the dark soil, coming to rest on the soft dirt that your boots sink into. You lift your foot and the imprint you leave behind is as clear as the two sets that lead from the edge of the forest to your pod. 

The footprints circle the pod, and your stomach lurches at the thought that they were circling without you even knowing. 

Resolutely keeping your back towards the ramp, you tighten your grip on your thrower and use the moment to take stock of your situation. Your father told you a couple of things about this planet: the air is toxic, the population is non-existent, and the main reason anyone comes is for the aurelac. An amber colored gem found within the bowels of pit sites, the price it can fetch is significant. His drops clutched tightly in his hand, he told you of a neglected site filled with treasure—a rumor, the Queen’s Lair–his eyes wild and clouded with liquid that made them shine with foolish hope. 

That’s it, though. No map left behind, no coordinates. No solid confirmation it even exists. He only brought you along because it would be dangerous to leave you completely orphaned for however long it took him, and to take advantage of your (limited) skills as a co-pilot. 

When you hear a heavy slide and a grunt behind you, you keep your eyes on the forest, scanning the trees. 

Nothing to offer the man who has offered you partnership, you wonder how long it’s going to take him to figure out you’re of no value. Completely useless, better off dead and out of the way. Your mind scrambles for leverage, and you’re still thinking when you feel a tap on the shoulder. 

Swinging around, you point your thrower – directly at Ezra’s chest. 

His hands fly up in surrender. 

“Steady now. It’s just me.”

He must have connected your comlinks because you can hear his words, low and slightly modulated through your helmet. Lowering your weapon and assuming he’s going to take it from you, you offer it up, but he waves it away, resting his hand on a pistol strapped to his hip. 

“Good to see you’re quick on the draw,” he smirks. He jerks his head towards the pod. “I need your help with the other one now.”

You glance over his shoulder towards the woods, trying to find a sign of your father’s body and his voice snaps your attention back to him. 

“Hey. Don’t…” he pauses. “Don’t. Say your goodbyes to the Green, girl, but don’t go lookin’. You don’t need to see that anymore.”

Surprised by the consideration in his statement, you follow him up the ramp. Inside the pod, he lifts under his former partner's arms. 

“Grab the feet – go ahead and push, while I pull.”

It takes ages getting the massive, limp body down and out, but eventually it’s rolled down the ramp with a thud. Ezra’s breathing sounds loud, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. 

“What you want to do is cover the body with rocks. Try to hide it, so as to not attract any attention. The locals, they –” he grunts, dragging the man towards the brush, “—they leave bodies out in the open, as part of their ritual to honor the memory but I think it’s rather–” he shoves the man down a slope, letting gravity do the work for him, “uncouth.”

Slowly descending down the slant of dirt, you follow behind him. Not used to an explanation following orders, you listen closely to his words. He gives you more context for his decisions than your father ever did, and you pocket every piece of information, eager for it all. Anything to help your survival in this place. 

With both your heads bent in task, he breaks the silence after a few moments. “What was your father here to harvest?”

Lifting a rock from the ground, you toss it in the general direction of the body. “Gems.”

Ezra huffs a laugh. “Most gems are long gone. Discovered and harvested during the rush.” He looks over at you from the corner of his eye. “Got any information on where he was hoping to find unfound riches?”

“If most gems have been harvested, what are you doing here?”

He laughs in delight. “Rapport, how I’ve missed it.”

You take note of the way he side steps your question. “He didn’t tell me.”

“What did he tell you about this place?”

Easy to talk to, charming and affable, you can see how easily he would wheedle information out of others. Unsure how much you should really be confiding in him, you decide less is better for now. 

“He didn’t tell me anything. Just that we were going to come here to dig – or rather, he was.”

“Nothing?” he asks, surprised. “He led you here, unprepared?”

You say nothing, and his expression turns more solemn. He shakes his head. “Foolish, keeping you in the dark like that. My own partner was more of a utility. Seems like your father treated you the same way.”

His statement hurts, though you try not to let it show. You shrug instead, watching your steps as you pick through the rocks. 

He gives you time to reply, and when you offer nothing up, he continues. “Did you ever want to learn how to dig? Harvest gems?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever been asked that question, and when you look up at him to find him looking at the ground, you can hear the smile he has on his face through the commlink when you don’t answer. He continues, “I stumped you, didn’t I.”

“I don’t…” you flounder. You’ve always had a distaste for the profession, spending your life around the seedy people who do it. However, it seems rude to say that outright to his face. “I’ve never really thought about it. It would be useful to learn, I guess.”

“Maybe,” he says. “Depends on what you want from this life. It’s a big world out there, Birdie. If you could have your pick, what would you do?”

“Go home.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and though it’s such a small thing to ask in such an endless universe, he just nods like he understands. 

 –

The bodies taken care of, he leads you back to the pod and tells you to wait there for him. He’s got a camp close by – a tent, filled with his belongings – and while he’s gone collecting it, you clean the disorganized mess inside the pod. 

Go home. You don’t even know why you said that, there isn’t much of a home to go home to. This pod has been more of a home than anything else has; the only constant in your transient life. What you meant was some place that felt like a home. A comforting place, where you felt safe and wanted and cared for. The place itself didn’t really matter, more the feeling it represented. You had yet to find it, but you knew it wasn’t here. 

The metal cabinets that line the walls had burst open upon impact, so you take your time methodically putting everything right. Medical supplies, vac packs of food, your father’s harvesting tools. His case, with his initials stamped on it. His supply of chemicals, his various scalpels unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. You snap them carefully back into their case, and put them away. 

Then your things: your bedding, your sparse collection of clothing, your journal. Wrapping the bound book in a shirt, you tuck it into your pillowcase, hiding it. Your headphones appear undamaged, and you test them with a couple of the cassettes that lay scattered across the floor. The music flows through them uninterrupted, and for the first time today, you feel a small sliver of relief. 

You find his drops underneath his chair. 

The tiny brown vial with the stopper you’ve seen him hover above his eye a million times, you aren’t ready for the resentment and rage you feel as you hold it in your palm. You can’t remember a time when your father didn’t have them on him. Slices of time flash through your mind: the sight of his back as he left you for days on end, the slow, syrupy drag of his words when he mumbled after putting the drops in, the feverish need in his eyes as he slipped the bottle from his pocket to calm the trembling in his hands – right before an emergency sensor went off in the pod and everything went to hell. 

The urge to crush it underneath your boot or take it outside and smash it against a tree flares bright, and a scream builds at the base of your throat. 

In your mind, you let it out. In real life, you tuck the bottle into a cabinet and shut the door. 

A signal agreed upon when he left, you know Ezra is back when he knocks rhythmically before entering. Busy scrubbing the dash clean, you’re going over the blood spots for the third time. You can’t see them anymore, but you still feel them there.  

“Got everything,” he states, removing his helmet. Tossing it on the ground, he rakes his fingers through his sweat damp curls with a sigh. “Quite the load to carry back. I’ll need space within your vessel to store my things.”

He steps towards a cabinet, and you stand, alarmed.

“Wait. You’re staying in here? With me? I thought you said you have a tent.”

He ignores the way your voice gets higher and tighter with every word, opening a door to peer inside. “I do, but it would be foolish to separate. If you’re opposed to discomfort, then you never had any business being on the Green, girl.”

It wasn’t my choice, you want to scream at him, but you hold your tongue. 

“Can’t you sleep outside in front of the hatch? To make sure no one gets in?”

He shakes his head, opening another cabinet. He rifles through your medical supplies, impressed. “This beauty really is fully stocked, isn’t she? No wonder I thought she’d be my redemption. Riches beyond belief hidden within her unassuming depths.”

He’s murmuring more to himself than anyone, and annoyance begins to simmer at the careless way he’s putting your freshly organized things back. You’re just about to repeat yourself when he closes the door and turns to you. 

“It won’t do to sleep outside. I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”

He opens another cabinet, and your cassettes spill out with a slide. 

“What are these?” he asks, already bending to pick one up. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Snatching it from his hand, you kneel down to gather them up. Huffing with frustration, you cram them back into their storage and shut the door quickly. 

He watches it all, his jaw shifting in thought. 

“Look,” he ventures. “I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s gonna be a long couple of months if you don’t trust me.”

You say nothing, and he sighs. 

“A good partnership is only made so by candid discourse.”

He’s right. You know he’s right, and yet you don’t have it in you to acknowledge it out loud. How he expects you trust him you truly don’t know, and yet in the hours since you’ve met him, he has shown you kindness. A partnership offer when you don’t deserve it, protection against his former partner, burying your father for you. Whether that kindness is real or a ruse to have you lower your defenses, you don’t know. 

Either way, you don’t really have a choice. 

“There are a couple of spare storage bins over there,” you gesture at the corner, defeated. “You can put your things in there.”

“My sincerest thanks,” he replies with a slip of sarcasm, and turning back to your cleaning, you roll your eyes. 

–

“I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”

The words repeat on a loop in your mind; your body shifting on the stiff cot. His presence in the small space feels foreign, your body hyper aware of it. You’ve never slept in this pod with anyone but your father. 

Your father. 

You wait for the grief to come, but when it doesn’t, you blame shock. The alternative would be to think about how you feel nothing, which, what kind of a daughter loses her father and feels nothing? Tendrils of shame seep through your thoughts, and you roll away from Ezra as if he can see into your mind. Your back facing him, you try to shut him out, focusing instead on the moon outside the window. 

It’s full, high and clear above the horizon, suspended in the inky sky. Your eyes study the craters carved into the surface, and you take slow and steady breaths out, mimicking sleep. You wish you could slip your headphones on and drown out the tension that fills the small space, but you don’t want to leave yourself vulnerable like that. 

You hear him shuffle behind you, and your shoulders brace themselves with tension – but when he doesn’t make any other sound, you go back to watching the floating dust. 

Isolated, alone. No different than any of the other thousands of nights you’ve spent staring out at the moon while waiting for your father to come home. The weight of your situation compresses the air in your lungs, and you feel the sharp, hot sting of tears behind your eyes. Squeezing them shut, you will them away. 

You won’t cry in here with him. You won’t. 

Both resentfully frustrated with his presence and deep down, grateful for it, you cross your arms tight across your chest and squeeze. Pouring all your emotions into the pocket of your chest, you squeeze and you squeeze, soothing yourself. 

He shuffles around quietly behind you, getting comfortable on his own cot and you’re thinking it’s going to be a long night just before the weight of the day presses upon your eyelids. 

They flutter shut, and you fall into a dreamless sleep.

[bucky-bucket-barnes]

Ok I have a angst requests. Unrequited love cause I like to hurt myself,but reader is the one in love with bucky. You can do a sad or happy ending its up to you

the cure

Pairings: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

Warnings: so much angst, hurt comfort, arguing, swearing, minor depictions of violence, blood, slow burn, and some fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

masterlist

Thick blood pooled in your hand, gathering like an expensive wine, traversing the lines in your palms before dripping thickly down onto the pavement below. A piece of broken glass had scathed at your hand as you were climbing out a window in an attempt to leave the building swiftly. While you should have been more concerned about the risk of tetanus or the multitude of other blood diseases you had just exposed yourself to, the thought of those didn’t trouble you much. 

Bucky. He was the first thing to cross your mind. You knew he’d fuss once he saw the blood pouring out of your hand, insisting, practically begging to help. It felt awful to admit, but his attention was addicting. 

He was always so much sweeter when you were hurting, so much softer. Instead of fretting over your injury, you fantasized about it. The panic that would descend in Bucky’s eyes, clouding his pupils, the tenderness in which he’d offer to wrap your hand. The maddening satisfaction that he cared about you deeply enough to worry. 

It was masochistic, it was sick. Sometimes you thought you were sick. But you hadn’t gotten hurt on purpose, of course not, this was just an added benefit to the pain. 

On cue, he rounded the corner, huffing out, “Alright, I got the hard drive we needed, let's head out before the cops show up.” 

You didn’t respond with words, instead, you outstretched your palm toward his direction, like a beggar reaching for alms. You studied his face, nipped and bitten red by the cold night air, the way his brows furrowed at the revelation. Even in the modest light of the alleyway, you could see the concern melt into his face. 

“Oh, doll, what happened?” Bucky asked softly into the night, gently taking your hand to inspect for any further damage. Sirens were nearing in the background, the breeze whispered against your skin, causing a shiver to travel down your spine. 

Doll, he called me doll. 

That was his pet name for you, sparsely used except on the occasion when he believed you needed an extra bit of kindness from his direction. Doll was reserved for severely scraped knees, sprained ankles, nasty bruises on the arm, and, now, for glass in your hand. Your actual name was for all other occasions, for casual conversations, late-night talks on the roof, and group settings. You hated it.  

“Did you scrape anything else? Are you okay to walk?”

I could fly if you’d ask. 

“Yeah, I’m good. My hand needs help though,” you answered. He tugged at his shirt sleeve, ripping off a decent chunk of fabric near his wrist. 

“I don’t think anything got stuck in there, but I’ll take you to the Med Bay just to be sure.” He wrapped the blue fabric around your hand as he spoke. 

Just as quickly as you had caught him, he was slipping through your fingers. He’d drop you off and in the morning he’d be normal Bucky. Not mean or cruel but something much worse; disinterested. Your attention would be thrown towards another person as you floated in the background like a forgotten shadow. 

“Could you bandage it when we get home? I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.”

Bucky shot you a concerned look before studying your face more. “If that’s what you want, doll.” A weak smile cracked on his face before his face returned with worry. He went to wipe a small smudge of dried blood that clung to your forehead. Momentarily, you convinced yourself he was going to lean in for a kiss. 

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he added gently, wrapping your hand before ushering you into your getaway vehicle. 

Your heart tightened in your chest as your throat stung with disappointment. He would be yours for the night. You silently tried to convince yourself that this would be the last time you’d reach for his attention. This isn’t love, this is pity. He was being a good friend, a dutiful soldier. 

“You’re going to worry me to death, you know that?” He glanced over as you attempted to put on your seatbelt. “Here,” he whispered, reaching across to adjust the buckle for you in fear your hand would start gushing more blood.

“Promise?” you sighed, gazing longly at his side profile as he began to drive. 

-

“Steve’s always moving the damn rubbing alcohol,” Bucky grumbled as he dug through the kitchen’s medicine cabinet. The lights above made a low humming noise, the only sound to accompany Bucky and you. 

The air felt thick as you sat patiently at the island, studying your hand in the warm light. Everyone else was either dead asleep or several states away, allowing Bucky and you to remain in the kitchen undisturbed. Alone. 

He sighed triumphantly, pulling out the faded grey bottle before ushering you over to the sink, “C’mere, we need to rinse it first.”

Shuffling out of your seat, you gently spoke, “Thanks, again, I really appreciate it.” The cold floor tickled against your bare feet, causing you to shiver lightly as you moved. 

“Of course, I couldn’t leave my partner high and dry.” He guided your hand under the cool running water. By now, you had stopped actively bleeding. The blood had dried, floating down in flakes of browns and reds as it swirled around the sink before falling down the drain. Your eyes remained on the faucet, trying not to catch Bucky’s gaze that was barreling into your temples. 

Bucky’s hand was gently wrapped around your wrist in an attempt to control your quivering. The heat radiating from his body wasn’t enough to warm you up.“You’re shaking like a leaf, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Feeling your face grow warm, you cleared your throat. “I’m just cold, that’s all, Buck.” You swiftly moved your hand back to your side and silently reached to grab a paper towel. Part of you believed the longer he held onto you, the sooner he’d realize this odd game he was unknowingly partaking in. 

“Here,” he said softly, wrapping his jacket around your arms. “It’s not much, but it should keep you warm until you go to bed.” 

Mouthing a small thank you, you readjusted the leather around your arms. It smelled like his cologne, a warm coffee scent that lingered around all his clothing. 

Standing in silence, you turned to face Bucky, who was now just inches apart from your face. His eyes began to traverse your face inquisitively, as if he was trying to find a secret tucked between your eyebrows or hiding on your cheekbones. 

“Doll?” he lulled so quietly you weren’t sure if he had spoken. He reached for your hand, slowly dabbing the alcohol on your wound. He stopped for a second, eyes glancing up towards your face, waiting to see if you were flinching.

It was as if you couldn’t move. His stare alone had turned you to stone, bolting your tired feet into the tiled ground. Is he onto me? “Yes, Bucky?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it was just a scratch.”

“No, I meant is everything okay with us.” 

It felt like you were swallowing rocks as your mouth ran dry. He had a disappointed glint in his eyes as he awaited your response with bated breath. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The words fell seamlessly from your mouth, almost convincing yourself for a moment. Out of all the questions he could have prompted, this wasn’t the one you were expecting to tumble out of his mouth. He mindlessly gnawed at his lower lip, unsatisfied with your answer. 

Bucky slowly began to wrap a bandage around your hand. “Did I say something? For the past few weeks, I feel like you’ve been. . . distant. You don’t talk to me anymore, except on missions, and you’re quiet on those too. I thought you needed space, but now- now I’m not sure. What happened to us?”

Us, us, us, us, us, there is not us, stop saying us. 

Guilt was bubbling in your mouth as you clenched your jaw. You weren’t trying to hurt his feelings, you never were. 

“Life,” you shrugged. “You’ve been dating, I’ve just been more into work. We’re fine, though.” You smiled lightly, fighting back the burning shame that was rising in your throat. “I guess this is just what happens when you grow up.” 

“Y/N, I haven’t made it to a second date with anyone yet, you have nothing to worry about,” he reassured, taking your uninjured hand in his. “Our friendship means a lot to me, whoever I date knows you’re part of the package.” He was smiling, sure the misunderstanding had been cleared up by now. 

Your heart cracked when you heard your name. Doll was gone for the night, now in her place was what felt like a half-baked version of a person. Feelings of embarrassment and shame began flooding into your body again. This was you why didn’t say anything, held your tongue instead of telling him how you felt. 

Because you weren’t the girl he’d take out on dates. 

You weren’t even the girl he’d take to the movies.

No, you were who he came home to. Always waiting patiently for him to come back, like time froze when he wasn’t home. You were a stand in for whoever he’d find to take your place. 

“Thanks,” you could feel your voice dangerously close to faltering as you took off his jacket, shedding it like an old skin. You briskly made your way out of the kitchen, hoping he didn’t catch the deep set frown on your lips.  “Goodnight, Bucky,” you called back before making your way to your bedroom. 

It was humiliating letting someone have this much power over you. Even worse, he either didn’t notice or he didn’t care. 

“Goodnight,” Bucky murmured, eyes sadly gazing at the discarded jacket that now rested on the counter instead of your arms. 

-

Snow was softly collecting on the ground outside. Lazily, you remained curled up against your window, watching as the flakes descended from the sky and onto your backyard. A warm cup of tea was curled around your hands, warming your fingertips. 

Today is going to be a good day. 

A whole month had flown by and you hadn’t thought of him once. Well, not for long, anyways. Bucky was off on some secret operative mission in Eastern Europe while you remained in New York. It was easy to lose track of time in your endless hours of paperwork and countless mini investigations. When you weren’t working, your time was devoted to getting lost in museums and exploring any hole in the wall restaurant you could find by yourself. If no one was going to take you on a date, you’d decided you’d take yourself. 

I just needed some alone time. 

A gentle knock came from your door, you remained still, sure Natasha was just checking in. 

“It’s open,” you called out, still admiring the snow from the comfort of the heated indoors. 

I like this version of me. 

“Hey,” a familiar tone chimed out, warm and low. 

Your head snapped towards his direction, eyes widened with surprise. Bucky stood just feet away, a shy smile on his face, more than the usual amount of stubble peppering his face. The air felt thick all of a sudden, the walls too close together to breathe. 

“Your hair. It’s longer.” Was all you could manage to get out, gripping your cup so hard you thought it might break. 

“Oh, yeah,” he responded, self consciously running his hands through his chestnut locks. “I couldn’t really cut it for a while. I just showered and shaved, but I wanted to say hi.”

“It looks good,” you reassured, a familiar feeling rising in your chest. You couldn’t smile in return, instead a hesitant look still lingering on your face. 

He wasn’t supposed to be back this soon. Yes, you were glad he was home and more importantly that he came back in one piece, but you had been silently dreading his return for weeks. 

Things can’t go back to how they were. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Sure, I was about to lie down though, I’m feeling a bit tired.” 

Lie, your mind growled as he slowly walked in. He perched at the window sill besides you, gazing outside. The bright light of the snow reflected back on his features, slightly washing his face out. He was glowing. 

“You look paler.”

“You’re observant today,” he chuckled, turning to look at you. You quietly told yourself you wouldn’t look back, maintaining a faux interest on the outside scenery. 

A few minutes of silence passed between you two. It was peaceful and allotted your heart the chance to stop racing and the butterflies in your stomach to settle down. Sipping lightly at your tea, you could feel Bucky’s eyes back on you. 

“It was kind of lonely.”

“Sorry to hear.”

“I thought about you a lot.” 

You let his words hang in the air for a moment. Just a few weeks ago and you would have been vying for his attention, his secret affections he only exchanged when you were wounded. Now? You weren’t sure anymore. 

“I missed you everyday,” he cooed, gently going to place his hand on top of yours. 

Without thinking, you jerked yourself away, spilling the steaming peppermint tea all over your lap. A nasty hiss escaped your lips as you jumped off, praying the burning sensation would melt away as the liquid fell off your lap and onto the floor. 

Bucky was immediately on his feet, snatching the cup from your grasp before it could shatter to the ground and cause further issue. A firm arm had wrapped around your waist in an attempt to keep you on your unsteady feet. 

“Are you okay-”

“No!”

“Do you want me to-”

“No,” you corrected, shimmying yourself from his grasp. “No, I mean I’m done, I’m done with this.” 

His feet remained planted, unsure whether you wanted him to reach out or stand down. 

“You. . . you can’t keep doing this to me,” you sighed indignantly, clenching your hands in frustration, unsure where to channel your emotions. 

“Doll-” He had a honey like sorrow in his voice; sweet, slow. His eyebrows turned up in confusion and hurt. 

“Could you just stop! I can’t figure you out. One moment you’re sweet and telling me how much you missed me but then the next your off fucking some random girl before you come back home and play fucking nurse with me.” 

Venom was lingering in your voice as you spat out your frustrations at Bucky, months of built up resentment and anger finally boiling over. 

“Can we talk about this later, you just spilled boiling water all over yourself.” His calm tone only seemed to infuriate you more. He took slow steps towards you as if you’d jump out and bite his head off if he weren’t careful. 

“I’m fine!” you challenged back. The adrenaline coursing through your body was enough to distract you from the burning feeling on your thighs. 

“Clearly not,” he began to challenge back, exasperated. “You’re acting like I’ve just shot you, all I did was say I missed you. Is that not how you feel?” 

“Get out.”

“Doll.”

“Bucky, I know you’re not dumb,” you groaned out in frustration. “I’ve liked you for months and if everyone else has picked up on it, I’m sure you have too. You don’t have to like me back, but you don’t get to go around saying ‘I missed you’ and then act like I don’t fucking exist unless I’m bleeding or burned. You’re being mean to me.” 

“I can’t fucking read you at all.” It was his turn to bite back. An indignant scowl was situated on his face. “One moment you act like you can’t bandage you’re own fucking hand then you’re scurying away like some stray cat when I try to have a conversation. When you act like you want space, people usually try to give it to you, Y/N. I don’t think you even know how you feel.”

“I know you only give a fuck about me when I put on some stupid damsel in distress act. Do you know how that feels?” 

“And you only act like you’re not scared of me when you want attention. And I’m a fool enough to give it everytime. Do you know how that feels?”

He shot your own words back at you in a way that was so uniquely painful, you both stood there in silence, taking shallow breaths in after your screaming match. 

“Is that how you feel?” you asked matter-of-factly, voice steady. 

“I’m sorry-”

“That’s not an answer,” you said softly, the anger withering from your voice and replacing itself with an old fatigue. 

“Sometimes, yeah.” Bucky matched your low volume. It took everything he had in him to not step forward and pull you in a tight embrace, whispering sorry until his voice went hoarse. “I’m used to people being frightened. It hurts when you do it, though.”

“Your hookups don’t seem to be afraid.” You internally winced, wishing you would’ve phrased that better. 

“They’re not you.” 

“If you like me so much, why not ask me out?” 

Bucky took a moment to glance you over, tracing your outline with his eyes. You were inches away and he still felt like he missed you. 

“I have problems and three lifetimes worth of baggage. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re more than just collateral damage.” 

“We’ll hurt each other eventually. That’s life.”

“I don’t want to hurt you at all.” 

“Bucky,” you began to fiddle with your hands, hoping to avoid his eyes. “Maybe we should give each other some space.”

“But,” he desperately reached out for you, cupping your face lightly, anguished in his eyes, “I like you.” 

“But you don’t want to be with me. Liking me isn’t enough.” You were looking up at him, an injured look on your face. You couldn’t tell what was making your body ache more, this or the burn on your lap. Slowly, your hands went to rest atop of his before removing them from your face. 

“Are we still friends?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Can I at least get you an ice pack for your lap.”

“No, it’s okay. I take care of myself.”

-

Sunlight began streaming into the Grand Central Terminal, tickling against your skin as you walked around, luggage in hand. The snow was merciful enough to stop piling on the ground for a few days, allowing your 7 A.M. train to run on time. In under an hour you’d be boarding a one way trip to D.C. 

The new year had just begun, it was time for a fresh start. A start that was far enough from New York to make you forget about the city. The people who lingered about the city. A certain person from the city, to be more exact. 

A confused look settled on your face as you tried to find your exact stop before you drifted for the next half an hour at one of the local cafes. From the corner of your eye you could see something hurtling towards your direction in a frenzy. 

It was him, hair disheveled and face wild with surprise. Bucky looked like he had just rolled out of bed before coming here, sleep still desperately trying to cling to his eyes. 

There was no point in trying to duck in the crowd, he had his eyes locked on you as you stood. 

“Y/N,” he called out, hoping you’d echo back with his own name. 

“Bucky?” you spoke out, only loud enough for yourself to hear, his name a secret on your tongue.  

“Don’t get on that train,” he gasped out, trying to regain his breath as he stopped short in front of you. 

“I’m not, my train isn’t here for another 35 minutes.”

“Alright, give me a second then. Sam told me you were leaving this morning and I got here as fast as I could. I also just ran the past 10 blocks. Fucking traffic,” he huffed out, running an exasperated hand over his face in order to regain himself.

“What are you doing here?”

“Wait,” he pleaded, putting his hands out in defense. “Before you tell me to go away, I just needed to say something. Then you can curse me out all you want, I’d understand.”

“I don’t want to fight,” you mumbled, slightly wounded he was still ready for a fight even now.

“I’m a fucking idiot. Severely. Here I have, the most amazing woman I have ever met, who’s funny and kind and smart as well as beautiful and I was too much of a dumbass to treat her right. I’m insecure. I don’t like myself and I get scared that when other people get too close, they’ll see what I see, and they’ll want to go away.” 

You noted the passersby that were stopping to spectate your scene. “Bucky, you don’t have to-”

“I want to, I want you. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend and I’m sorry I made you feel used. But I don’t want to lose you.” 

Time slowed, all of a sudden the air felt too light and no matter how much oxygen you sucked in, it was never enough to satisfy your lungs. The rise and fall of your chest felt like a shake, battering your organs as you breathed in and out. 

“Are you asking me to stay?” you asked, unsure what to do with this information. 

“I’m asking that you let me follow you wherever you go. I don’t care if it’s New York, D.C., or the middle of nowhere, I just want to be with you.”

A decent crowd had circled around the two of you by then like vultures, waiting for a murder. The grip you had on your suitcase seemed to slip from your fingers as you moved towards him. You threw your arms around his torso, taking in a deep breath; it was like you could breathe again. 

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he whispered against your temple before planting a soft kiss on your forehead, entangling his arms around your body. You could feel the way his body shook like a wilting flower, the excitement at which his heart thudded in his chest. 

“Let’s go home, Bucky.”

“Of course, doll.” 

[itshype]

Please don’t pet me! I am working! (DC x DP)

The Service Animal Cujo notfic that I, personally requested but just like my extremely cringe Batman x Witcher fic, I have to do everything myself. I wrote this but held off during DC x DP week because I’m not participating in that. If I keep writing these, I’ll have to make a masterpost or probably whack them up on Ao3 for archive purposes at some point but for now: Here is the Space Obsessed Danny story and Here is the Kingmaker Danny story! CW for mention of panic attacks in this one!

So! Let’s get going. Danny died. He can’t stop thinking it. He was dead. He’s walking and talking now but he knows deep in his soul that everything’s different now. He was dead and somehow nothing has changed? He feels like something of his journey to hell itself should be visible in his skin – something more than the small exit scar on his left foot. Another dimension was opened through his body and his hairstyle didn’t even shift?

Sam and Tucker are just as freaked out as he is, but they aren’t nearly as frightened. The ghost powers and Halfa stigma won’t come until later, but right now Danny is having difficulty even considering the possibility of leaving the house. With Danny in such bad condition emotionally, there’s no way to cover up what happened, and Jazz takes them all to the hospital.

Now, I know in a lot of fanfics Danny has weird physiology even in human form (lower body temp, slower pulse etc) but I don’t remember any of that being canon so I’m ignoring it. And if it is canon then I am exercising my right to debone the original show like a small chicken and use it to make a flavourful stock.

So, Danny checks out with the doctors except for a weirdly tiny burn but he is having like 5 concurrent panic attacks about everything from “there’s nothing after we die”, “The electricity cooked me”, “Life has no meaning”, maybe even throw in a fun “I came back wrong”.

Hell, maybe he does have weirdly low vitals, but the rapid pulse is countering his slow heartbeat and decreased blood pressure etc. Up to you!

Danny probably ends up being sedated if he can’t calm down but by then there is a different issue. The doctors Fenton have arrived. Now, I think it’s no stretch of the imagination to say that under the wrong circumstances they would dissect Phantom if they got their hands on him but also I know they somewhat care for their children and canon has shown more than once that under good circumstances that they could accept Danny.

When his ghost sense goes off for the first time it’s pretty obvious. He’s in a hospital and instead of a tiny little whisp of silver breath; it’s like a fogbank creeping along a moor, its sea mist rolling in from the horizon of his mouth and whiting out his private hospital room. No one can see two meters in front of their own face, and it takes over a minute to fade. Sam screams out for Danny and tries to grab his hand where she knows it was but can no longer see. Tucker starts at the sound and drops his device, screeching gratingly at the clattering plastic of his PDA hitting linoleum, hard.

When the mist finally evaporates, the Fentons want to take him home immediately and run tests. They think the ghostly influence is ‘obvious’ but the 68-year-old nurse, Beatrice stands like a 5-foot-nothing wall of solid rock and won’t let them touch him. Jazz also angles herself between her parents and the door so if they did somehow manage to get their hands on Danny, they wouldn’t be able to leave without steamrolling her. Then the heartrate monitor goes wild as Danny panics about being a guinea pig for his parents’ less-than-lukewarm lab safety practices and they back off without further interruptions.

That’s the point when it hits them that everything that has happened to Danny is their fault. His accident was because of them, he’s melting down because of them, both of their children genuinely believe that they will hurt Danny just because he’s having weird ghostly side effects to almost dying in a ghost portal. One they built.

It’s a few hours later when they breach the subject of going home, of at the very least making a decision about school even if that decision is to formally take a leave of absence. Sam and Tucker’s parents had made them go home and he’s a lot calmer now but at this stage, his weird ghost powers are causing problems. It seems to the orderlies and nurses that his anxiety is getting worse because he’s turning intangible through cups and cutlery – making it look like he’s shaking so hard he can’t even hold a single cup, and is flat out refusing to eat.  

Even though it’s been less than a day it looks like Danny’s shock is just getting worse. He phases through his bed right as Beatrice and his parents walk through and they think he’s hiding under there out of fear. He tries to explain, confused, and disoriented and deep in denial. Jazz shuts him up. She doesn’t know completely what’s going on, but she knows enough, and she isn’t letting 12 hours of changed behaviour force her to blindly trust her parents.

Beatrice is most concerned. It hasn’t been very long but there’s no reasonable cause for his steep and steady decline. No reason outside of something-something-ghosts.  

That’s when the first few pamphlets come out about therapy animals. They require some time to be trained and the middle of nowhere Amity Park doesn’t exactly have a pool to choose from, but it’s okay to adopt a younger animal and train it themselves.

Danny looks at the pictures of the fluffy bunnies and alert-eared dogs with big, glistening eyes. Then puts them down. There’s no way an animal would be safe in his house.

That’s when the ghosts attack. Danny isn’t the only spectre with a ghost sense and these ghosts are less human due to a lack of ectoplasm. Obviously, the silver fog reappears, and, in his terror, Danny drops to the next floor of the hospital, glitching through his bed and the floor underneath it. He crashes painfully in the middle of the gift shop.

His parents reach the conclusion that due to his extreme ectoplasm contamination; he’s developed a serious allergy to ectoplasmic weaponry, including things like ectoblasts that ghosts have naturally. They’re not…the wrongest that they could be. Unfortunately, they decide that Evil Ghosts TM can sense this weakness and are trying to kill their poor baby boy. Everyone else is freaking out about ghosts being visibly proven but the Fentons knew ghosts were real with zero doubts so they’re rolling with it.

Now, due to the knowledge that he died, Danny is having difficulty worrying about other things like catching up with schoolwork, his weird new allergies/powers or even Dash.

BTW KUDOS to anyone still reading, I know this part was really long, but I really felt like I couldn’t just flim flam over the details of why Danny would need an emotional support/service animal even if it’s fictional.

First day back at school, the Lunch Lady attacks. Danny barely eeks out a win just like in canon.

His parents decide that this is because of the allergies and the ghosts being able to sense Danny’s weakness as I said above. And they take it upon themselves to root out the problem at its source, to find all the ghosts who could hurt their son and imprison them, partly for Danny’s safety and partly for study. Not even they are sure where the divide is between their two loyalties.

So, they look to their now-functioning portal.

Unfortunately, they were massively underprepared, and they don’t come back.

 Jazz sees the locked lab door and leaves them to it, making dinner and making sure Danny knows she wants him to be at school.

He doesn’t go, she lets him not go.

Two days later the boredom is worse than his fear. He goes to school. Danny, Sam and Tucker enter like a single unit. Dash tries some shit and either:

Jazz emerges and smacks his head hard enough he loses vision for several seconds – long enough for her to knee him hard enough to put the continuance of the Baxter lineage into question.

Danny starts panicking again. The teachers always want to side with Dash but him openly attacking a kid who was just in the hospital who doesn’t even lift a finger in defence of himself is beyond the limits of any sane adult’s “boys will be boys”.

Doesn’t really matter, the point is that he’s not looking to fuck around any time soon now that he’s already found out. But he did in fact attack Danny.

Danny goes home. His first attempt at school following his death has failed.

Tucker, separately, goes to a garage sale to buy old electronics to use in his PDA upgrades. He buys a boxful of weird lab equipment that definitely has a microchip or two. When he opens it at Danny’s house as an effort to distract him, a small pink teddy falls out. No one notices it bounce beneath the sofa. Sam or Jazz brings up the support animal idea again but is reminded of the whole “our house is a toxic waste site” thing and backs off.

Weeks pass, Danny develops his ghost powers and Jazz realises their parents are actually missing. She submits a missing person report mentioning the switched-on portal – the lab door was locked from the inside.

So, when Danny wakes up one day and there’s a glowing green dog already with a collar and a toy he thinks “ah yes, a dog that my sibling has procured for me as we discussed many times to help me cope with my own mortality, the near-constant ghost attacks and my parents who vanished.”

So, he puts a leash on Cujo who is happily chewing on his little pink teddy and takes him off to school while Jazz is using her first free period to go bother the local cops about their parents. (Why haven’t they been taken in by child protective services? Either:

Because I said so

Jazz is 18

Jazz used her improbable psychology powers to bamboozle the social worker into leaving)

Everyone at school loves Cujo. He gets all the love and does a very good job of dragging Danny away from ghost attacks (so he can fight them!!)

Jazz doesn’t find out about Cujo until the afternoon but probably lets the whole thing lie because it’s a great solution.

This could go on for some time. Both Danny and Phantom have Cujo but as Phantom Cujo stays in his big form so there’s no connection made. Canon mostly proceeds as normal except the parents aren’t there and there’s no huge issue with Valerie.

Realistically, a fair few high schoolers are probably also on the hunt for a pet ghost dog because if Danny and Danny both have one there must be heaps going around. Danny is also worried about his parents and periodically looks for them but that isn’t the focus of this story so I won’t go into a lot of detail – just clarifying that he’s not a sociopath who finds out his parents are missing and goes “oh ok”.

This could be its own story but let’s get to the DC part now!!

Eventually the Justice League connects the two calls, one about the ghost dog and one about the parents disappearing through a portal. Maybe Valerie complains, or even fanon favourite Wes contacts the authorities about the ghost dog with no official training or certification. Either way the JLA algorithm picks up these two very strange claims from one town and send someone to investigate.

But I mean, parents vanishing from a locked room and a green dog aren’t exactly world ending stuff, so instead of sending an actual busy superhero they send one of the kid heroes.

Now a lot of people will go ahead and put Damian into this. But I don’t really care for him in a dynamic with Danny. But I have another vigilante in mind, one who is less animal crazy, but more dog focused and also has issues with being seen as an actual person.

That's right, it's Conner Kent. And his faithful alien dog Krypto. I've seen a few fics where Danny adopts him, but you know what other family member should think you're an actual person? Your significant other. This could totally be a friendship thing no problem, but I do feel like some versions of canon Connor Kent would get on great with Danny.

Without the looming, repeated threat of vivisection, I think Danny would be a lot more chill about his secret identity and would probably disclose Cujo’s origins to Superboy. Once Connor knows about Cujo (Phantom’s dog) being able to shrink, he can see Danny with the dog once and connect all the necessary dots. Because I stand by the fact that the main reason Danny’s secret ID isn’t discovered more is because there’s no reason for a dead person to have a secret identity but once the concept is introduced then it’s pretty simple. Connor can hang out with Phantom while Phantom does ghost fights because the Kryptonian can’t really contribute but he’s there for moral support.

Eventually, Danny reveals to Connor that he himself was cloned before and talks excitedly about his clone who he considers a cousin. I definitely think without the parents there that Dani would visit more even if she has an obsession with travel, wanderlust or freedom that prevents her from permanently moving in.

This knowledge makes him very upset about how he was treated by his genetic donors, and Connor decides to move in with the Fenton siblings (without really asking the Fenton siblings) and decides that he’ll commute to the watchtower/titans tower/mount justice (depending on which version of canon he’s in sorry I can’t be bothered to figure it out).

Unfortunately, on top of not asking the Fentons, he doesn’t notify or ask anyone in the caped community. So as far as any of them are concerned, Connor went on a minor mission to investigate some missing people and is now himself missing.

Just as a caveat because I don’t feel like getting into an argument today, I used the terms both “service animal” and “emotional support animal” even though in most countries these are not interchangeable legal definitions. I use it in a non-legal way here because emotionally helping Danny – especially when that emotional stress causes physical damage is a service, and also there is the potential for Cujo to help Danny in other physical ways.

Also, there is definitely room here for Dani being buds with Match. I think that'd be neat.

If I could draw, I would make art of Cujo and Krypto being besties but I cannot so just picture it for two seconds. Done? Great, thanks!

[yandere-sins]

Prisoner #006

a/n: Been a hot minute, but I'm slowly getting myself to also correct the stories I write. Dazai is always fun to work with, so this wasn't as hard ^-^ Enjoy!

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Pairings: Yandere!Prisoner!Dazai x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Punching a wall, Threatening, Bullying), Mild Sexual Content (Dub-con kissing/touches), Reader murdered in self-defense, Mention of scars, Bribery, Hinting at Psychological Trauma

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

"Leave me alone!"

Even when you spoke without a waver in your voice, the prisoners in front of you only laughed, holding their bellies as if you were oh-so-funny. They had blocked off the path towards the cells, three tall, burly men past their prime but still fast enough to step in your way whenever you tried to pass them by. You weren't looking for a conflict, but you could tell they were bored and probably searching for a fight that would make them look superior.

Who better to beat up than the newbie?

You huffed, frustrated, trying not to look scared in front of them. The truth was that looking tough didn't mean you were, and after the many exhausting weeks that lay behind you, you honestly had no nerve to face any more obstacles. Now that you had to sit out your prison sentence, the best way you could think of to spend it would be to eat, sleep, and read books. Lay low, and don't get involved with anyone. Definitely not getting into fights you couldn't win.

"Seriously, just let me through!"

Jumping forward, you tried to get through the wall of sweat and muscles, but they blocked your way again, not even letting you squeeze through between them while laughing in true asshole-fashion at your meager attempts.

"That's a scary face, uuuuh, I'm so scared!" one of them taunted you as you gritted your teeth, scowling. You could feel the burning in your nose, and you forced the tears back from where they were coming from. Them being idiots wasn't what frustrated you so, but having to be here, even though you were innocent, and then being mocked and used as an outlet was just so unfair.

"See, boys, that's what a murderer looks like these days. Little pip-squeaks who cry because everyone is so mean to them! Buhu!"

Sighing, you shook your head, feeling a headache develop as the three continued to mock you relentlessly. It was nothing you hadn't heard before, but it still stung, especially since you knew the truth. But who would believe you? The judge hadn't. Not even your family believed you. The whole world was against you. You wanted to give up, turn the other way, and see if there was another way around to the cells. But you couldn't let them win. You couldn't let them know you couldn't persist through their bullying. So once again, you looked up to find an opening in their wall of flesh, but you were out of luck.

You just wanted to get back to your cell, but you felt yourself get increasingly riled up, not from their insults but from the helplessness of the situation. You were a trapped animal, beginning to panic. It felt like back at the police station, officers looking down at you, accusing you, and then at court, the judge pointing fingers despite being fed lies. You could feel the anxiety rushing into your mind, your breath hitching as you found it hard to fill your lungs with air, meaning you were going to have a full-blown panic attack if nothing happened right now.

"That's enough, gentlemen. You're disturbing our new friend."

Hands fell on your shoulders from behind you, and you flinched, letting out a small gasp of surprise. They squeezed you before dropping off your body, the person passing you by and stepping in front of you. "It's not very nice to tease someone who only just arrived, you know?"

One of the men groaned, and you saw another gripping his head, sighing. "Fuckin' Dazai," one of them grunted, and you swerved your gaze to the back of the guy standing before you, surprised to find him gazing back over his shoulder. His brown trench coat fluttered from his movement, but underneath, you could see the orange overalls all of you prisoners wore. 

"And such a cutie, too," he added, winking at you. He gave you a thumbs-up before turning forward again, and you watched in awe as the three men got into motion, slowly turning and leaving, seemingly discouraged to engage further. You furrowed your brows, but when the man who came to your rescue turned around, you breathed out, finding him smiling brightly.

He looked kind for a prisoner, and you breathed out in relief.

"Thanks," you muttered, noticing your hand was still shaking, but you were glad not to have gone into a panic attack after all and made a fool of yourself. Warily, you held it out, and the man quickly stepped forward, gripping it in a firm handshake.

"No problem," he reassured you, his other hand laying down on top of yours, his grip softening. "I was on my way to see you, anyway. It's such a nice coincidence that we met here, and it's my pleasure to help someone as amazing as you are. The first day can be so hard, I know."

"Sorry, what was your name again?" Your reply seemed so out of place, but you didn't expect him to ramble on all of a sudden either, his words making very little sense since you could swear you never met him before.

"Dazai. Osamu Dazai. But everyone here just calls me The Detective. I'd be happy to help you get settled here if you'd like."

Dazai gave you another wink, and you cringed, deciding that he seemed to be another nutcase, but even though he hadn't let go of your hand yet, he seemed to be nicer than the others, at least. You decided it was your turn to take the initiative, awkwardly pulling your hand out of his grip and fumbling at your overalls instead, keeping yourself occupied and grounded.

"Thanks again, Dazai. It's been nice meeting you, but I should really get back to my cell."

Hoping he'd take his cue to leave, you gave him a respectful nod before stepping around him. You couldn't wait to get back to your cell and sleep off the day, hopefully without any incidents at night. However, it wasn't that easy, as light footsteps jogged up next to you. "Actually..." Dazai chuckled, ignoring the obvious goodbye you had exchanged.

"I was hoping we could have a chat. See, I'm very interested in your case and have been following it since the media started to air it."

You gave an awkward "Really?" as you quickened your pace, not wanting to start this conversation with anyone yet. Too much pain and anger were woven into your guilty verdict and all the lies around it, and you didn't want to be more of a laughing stock in case he was going to spread rumors.

"Look, I'm really thankful for your help, but there's nothing more to say about it really--"

"But you're innocent, right?"

You stopped in your tracks.

"You believe me?"

"Well, yes. Isn't it obvious? Your wounds were too severe to not believe you acted in self-defense."

Wide-eyed, you mustered Dazai, whose expression went from surprised at your reaction to a knowing grin. Gently, he reached forward, holding your hand again and pushing up the sleeve, revealing the ugly, agitated stab wound from when you had been assaulted by the man you killed. Your instincts had taken over at that moment as you yanked out the knife to stab him in the chest instead, the scar being the biggest reminder of that night. 

"When I saw that, I knew you were innocent," Dazai whispered softly, tracing the scar with his finger. He was gentle as he caressed the wound, but it still sent a shiver down your spine, and you cramped up. Dazai mustered it for a long time, thoughtful despite your growing discomfort before his brows furrowed, and he mumbled, "You'll need a lot of help to prove it, though."

His eyes snapped up to yours, and you gulped, his gaze changing from gentle to mischievous too fast for your liking. He was about to offer himself as the needed help again, you could tell from the gleam in his eyes, so you spoke up first. "I- I'll manage," you stuttered, pulling your arm from his grip and holding it in front of your chest.

"Thank you, good night," you said firmly before rushing down the corridor. Maybe his nickname didn't come from nowhere, as he figured out your situation faster than the police ever even attempted to. Dazai seemed to be clever and cunning, a sweet talker with ulterior motives unknown to you yet. For a moment, you had forgotten where you were. This was still a prison, and the people here were the worst of society—no exceptions.

When you finally reached your cell, you were out of breath but relieved he didn't follow you. You didn't want to think about what would happen when you got involved with anyone here, your situation making you gullible. However, much to your surprise, you weren't alone, your grumpy cellmate giving you the stink eye when you entered.

"H-Hi," you mumbled before dashing by him, wanting to climb up to your bunk. But before you could, he stood up, stepping in front of the ladder. It made you wonder if everyone had just decided to stand in your way to annoy you, but compared to the belittling idiots before, this one seemed angry.

"Do you have a smoke?"

"What?"

"A fucking cigarette, you idiot. Do you have one?"

"No... I don't smoke."

Your fellow inmate grumbled, annoyed, then looked at the stuff you were holding, your bath utensils and dirty clothes. "Got something to snack in there?" he asked, reaching for your bag, and you immediately took a step back. Big mistake.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, annoyed, clicking his tongue and tensing up. It wasn't looking good for you, and you eyed the ladder, wondering if you could slip by him and climb it before he could grab you. Probably not. You were trapped. It was either give him your stuff and brush your teeth with a toothbrush he, at best, threw to the dirty floor in his search, or be used as a punchbag to vent your cellmate's frustrations. Could this day get any worse?

"Cell swap!" an officer suddenly yelled, hitting the bars of your cell with a baton.

"What?!" your cellmate barked, twisting around and stepping towards the officer, who seemed unfazed by the hulking figure.

"Got no choice," the officer explained factually. "Order from high up."

"What bastard would request so swap cells!? This's been my cell since I got here fucking years ago! This is my place, you can't take it from me!"

"Well, not anymore," the officer sighed, and your cellmate roared in anger, turning back to you.

"Did you do that? You bastard, I'll teach you some manners, you fucking idiot!"

Fear gripped you as the huge man prowled towards you, fury written in his expression as he believed it was you who caused this change. You stepped backwards until the cold wall scratched against your spine, flinching when the angry prisoner threw a punch into the concrete next to your head, making it crumble. Letting out a miserable squeak, you sunk to your knees, shielding your face.

"Not them!" a chipper, familiar voice rang out suddenly, and you looked up, tears in your eyes when you heard it.

With a grunt, your cellmate let go of his focus on you, turning around, only for all the fury to wash off his face. "Dazai..." he grunted, then he got still. You couldn't believe your eyes as the man cowered before Dazai, who stepped into your cell carefreely, patting the other guy on the back before beaming at you.

"I'm sorry, Sir... I didn't know... I wouldn't have punched the wall..." your cellmate muttered, and Dazai waved him off, shaking his head as he reassured your cellmate, "It's okay, no biggie. I'll take our friend here with me, and you can have mine. Though I'm not sure what Akutagawa thinks of living with you, so don't blame me if you die!"

Dazai turned all his attention to you, stretching his arms towards you, and you gripped his outstretched hands without hesitation. You just wanted to get away from here, and Dazai had not once but twice saved your ass from being punched. He was the safer option in any way possible. "Darling! I missed you! I couldn't wait to see you again, so I arranged a more comfortable living situation for us. Come, come!"

Pulling you to your feet, you completely forgot about your things scattered on the ground as Dazai led you out of the cell, always a bounce in his step but keeping a steady grip on you. You saw him pass something to the guard, who quickly put it in his pocket, but you had no time to wonder what it was as you had to keep up with Dazai's speed.

"Wha-" you uttered, but Dazai let out a loud laugh, interrupting and drowning out your voice. However, his step slowed, and he pulled you up next to him, his mouth aligning with your ear when he whispered. "I can help you prove your innocence, but everyone needs to think we're a couple for it to work. You don't want to get beaten up or worse, do you?"

Gulping, you shook your head, and Dazai grinned, pushing away from you and laughing again. "You're so funny, Darling!" he said, audible to everyone nearby before he leaned in again, whispering, "Play along."

You couldn't help but shudder at his hot breath caressing your ear, his words invading and penetrating through your thoughts. Everything passed you in a blur, but when you two were exposed to everyone on the hallway between cell rows, Dazai whirled you in front of him, grinning as he leaned down, his lips finding yours. He pecked you once, twice curiously before involving you in a real kiss, dragging your lips between his, his hot breath brushing against your mouth. His tongue slipped between your lips when you gasped, poking at yours before playing with it. The kiss wasn't forceful, wasn't violent. It didn't hurt, leaving you breathless and your face smothered in heat. It was opportunistic, maybe, curious and playful. But you found yourself pushing at his chest despite the knot forming at your core, only to realize he was much stronger than he looked.

Dazai gripped your wrists, the nails of his thumb pressing into your flesh as a warning to be nice. Your kiss got increasingly heated as you pressed against him, and you heard him sigh before finally breaking away. You had a hard time focusing, trying to get a grip on yourself as you finally heard all the murmurs and grumbles around you. Steam was about to come out of your ears as you felt embarrassed by this public display. You've never been kissed this passionately in front of people. You gasped quietly when you watched Dazai lick his lips, enjoying this all a little too much judging from his expression, smile playing on his lips, and pleasure lidding his eyes.

"Better than I imagined," you heard Dazai mumble, but before you could ask what he meant, your attention was diverted by other prisoners walking towards you two. You recognized the faces of the three men who had tormented you before, but they didn't say anything to you this time; they just walked by, clicking their tongues.

"Fucking mafia," one of them mumbled.

"No chance to get to them now," another sighed, seemingly unhappy with the turn of events.

"I hate it when those freaks claim the newbies. Where's the fun in that?"

"What's going on?" you whisper-yelled, directing your attention back to Dazai, who began to beam when your eyes met. "Who are you?!"

"Dazai," he answered, and you gave him a look of annoyance. Raising his hands in front of him pacifyingly, he shook his head. "Well, if you must know... Before I became the detective, I was, sort of, a little involved with some other individuals that, in some way, are a bit more respected around here. But that's good, right? Now you don't need to be scared walking around here anymore. Everyone knows you're mine."

"Except I am not yours," you corrected him, and Dazai let out an awkward chuckle, gripping his chest as if you had just shot him in the heart.

"Ouchie..."

"Listen, I'm really thankful for your help, but I don't want to get involved with anyone here. I can't prove my innocence from prison, and I don't want to play some stupid games."

"You don't really have a choice in this, you know?"

Dazai let you speak out, even allowing you to take a step away from him. But when he spoke up again, his voice changed from the upbeat, chipper one to a serious, low murmur in your mind. "I will help you," he explained, matter-of-fact. "And you'll be nice and stick by my side for as long as I want in return."

"What if I don't want that?!" you hissed, taken aback by him suddenly forcing his wants and ideas on you. You sounded a bit more feisty than you had wanted to be with him. However, Dazai was unfazed, as if he didn't want to listen. Didn't want to understand. And when he leaned forward, hovering ever so slightly above you and smiled, goosebumps ran rampage on your skin, the look in his eyes instilling real, undeniable fear inside you. It was that of unquestionable superiority, and you felt like he would crush you if you made any more of a fuss about his decision. You could see it in the way he looked at you that his word was absolute, and you had to do what he said, or you wouldn't survive this.

"You will. I have already decided you're mine."

A nutjob, you knew it. And yet, you shuddered, signaling your understanding with a nod as if you were no longer in control of yourself. Even if you wanted nothing more than to run away, your feet were glued to the ground, the sight of his evil grin spreading wider over his face burning into your memory. You knew you were in deep shit when Dazai took your hand, unfittingly gentle as his features softened again, but when he interloped your fingers with his on the way to your new cell, his grip was bone-cracking.

You looked at his back, a sight that had filled you with relief before, and squeezed his hand, receiving a squeeze back. Dazai looked back over his shoulder, smiling sweetly at you, having won what he wanted as you didn't dare to disobey. But you knew better now than to trust him again. He may claim he would help you, but he would never be able to get your trust until the day he made his promise come true, proving your innocence and make you a free person again, walking away from this prison and from him. Being with him until then was a terrible and confusing thought, but maybe you'd be able to lay low and never trigger Dazai's scary side again until the day of escape came.

But at least this day couldn't get worse, right?

Right...?

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night (sneak peek)

His grip on her hand tightened more as she did not touch any of the food and drinks placed on their feasting dinner table. Aemond knew she was hungry, her eyes were practically devouring the sweet treats he demanded to be brought from Dorne just for the special occasion of their wedding. 

“You should eat, my love.” Aemond advised, briefly letting go of her hand to gather a slice of chocoflan he knew it was her favorite. It wasn’t how it was made in her world but it was made with the intention and hope of gaining her affection for him. 

“I’m not hungry,” she replied, pushing the plate away. The gruesome images of the two old ladies who violently got their heads cut off because of her attempt to escape, were stuck on her head. She did not think she could eat or sleep after seeing the face of death stare directly at her. Her own mother warned her once, when her uncle was in hospice, to never look at the face of death for the image would permanently be firmly fixated in her head. 

And it was. 

Aemond frowned and sighed. It did not go unnoticed to him that she didn’t spare him a single glance. Rather, she looked at the drunken men and women dancing in the great hall of Harrenhal. She wondered if they too were forced to be here, feigning their happiness to not upset the One Eyed Prince. 

“I know you are hungry. I can practically hear your belly making noises from where I am sitting.” He slid back the silver plate directly in front of her. “Here, have a piece. It is quite good, I can understand why you like it so much.” She involuntarily flinched when Aemond cut a piece of the dessert and practically shoved it inside her mouth. 

“Besides, you need your energy for tonight’s activities.” Aemond smirked, his voice coming out dark and erotic as he brought his thumb to clean the loose chocolate from her bottom lip back into her mouth. Her chest began to heave heavily in panic as Aemond traced the softness and plumpness of her lips. He imagined what they’d feel like when she finally accepted his kisses or how they’d feel wrapped so sweetly around his cock.

“I can’t have my beautiful bride faint while I make love to her.” 

Like hell that was gonna happen! Alys, you puta, you better take me out of this! 

“Um, I need to use the bathroom,” She stated, standing up from her chair. Aemond tilted his head in confusion, any trace of salaciousness was swiftly gone. Right, he didn’t know what that meant. What the fuck did they call it here in Westeros? “What I mean is that I need to relieve myself. I drank too much water.” She laughed anxiously, hoping that Aemond would believe her as she crossed her legs. 

Please. 

Aemond lifted a brow, “Be quick.” He nodded before he waved for a guard to escort her to the privy. 

She momentarily sighed in relief. She had to devise a new plan, a better attempt to escape Aemond’s delusional ass. This was not her world. This was just a book she had countlessly read in her spare time. No way was Aemond Targaryen real nor his dragon, Vhagar. 

Once she left in Aemond’s line of sight, he brought his wife’s silver chalice for inspection and tossed it against the wall once he saw that the cup was full and untouched. She lied to him, again.  

“Fuck!” Aemond bellowed loud and high for everyone to hear. 

Clever girl, my bride is, thinking she could escape me yet again

*puta: bitch

[daisyblog]

I'm Late

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN realises her period is late. Warning: swearing, missed period, possible pregnancy

YN's POV:

We were in New York for a couple of days as the boys were playing at the MetLife Stadium. As it was our sister Lottie’s birthday, Louis and I decided to fly her out for a few days to join us. She had arrived yesterday afternoon with Eleanor, so we had been catching up in between the busy tour schedule. Us girls, including Sophia Liam’s girlfriend, had planned to go and do a bit of shopping whilst the boys were in rehearsals ahead of the show this evening. I was in mine and Harry’s hotel room, sitting on the floor in front of the large silver mirror finishing putting mascara on and Harry was still in the shower when there was a desperate knock, and the door flew open and Lottie appeared. “Lotts..you can’t just walk in here babe..Harry could have been getting dressed or somethin’” “Well..it’s an emergency..I’ve forgotten to bring pads with me and..and..I don’t know where to get any from” she ranted in panic. “Alright..calm down..I’ve got some in me bag” I calmed her and got up from my position and went over to my suitcase where I kept my toiletries. I picked up the product and passed them to her “There you go babe”. “Thaaaanks…you’re a life saver..I’ll see ya later” “See ya later Lotts..oh and remember to wait after you knock next time” I reminded her as she walked out of the hotel room and muttered a ‘yeah whatever’. As I sat back down to continue getting ready, a thought came to me. How did I have a full packet of pads still? When did I last have a period? I brought my Clue app on my phone to check…’late for 4 days’…”Shit…shit..fook..shit” I kept repeating to myself. For a moment, I didn’t move, I sat and thought. How could I be late? I’ve never been late, ever! I’m on the pill…I couldn’t be..could I? I was lost in my own thoughts and didn’t hear the bathroom door open and Harry steps out until his voice startled me. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he spoke as he proceeded to pull a pair of black shorts up over his legs and up to his hips, hiding some of his tattoos.

“Umm..I-I..I’m late” “Late?” he looked confused as he grabbed a white T-shirt from the suitcase and placed it over his head, covering his body “Late for what? Shopping?”

“Nooo..late as in..you know late” “Am I suppose to read your mind…’cause I don’t have a clue what you're talking about” A sarcastic chuckle escaped his lips.

“My period’s late” I didn’t know how he was going to react. Was he going to leave, tell me to leave..was he going to be angry at me?

“Okaaay..and?”

“Wha’ do you mean..and?...I could be pregnant”

“Yeah I know” he said calmly and continued to tie a black bandana around his head. If I wasn’t so stressed I probably would have made a comment about how much I loved this look on him and how hot he looked.

“You know..so..so..w-why are you so calm?” “’cause believe it or not…I’ve thought about having a family with you” Any other time this would have made my heart melt, but right now all I could think about was being on a world tour and possibly carrying a baby inside of me.

“Well yeah…It’s obviously crossed my mind..but not during a world tour and at nineteen”

He walked over to me and grasped my hands in his and lifted them so they were around his neck and placed his hands on my hips “Okay..what’s going to happen is…I’m going to go to rehearsals and you’re going to go shopping..” “But” I interrupted. “Uh..let me finish…you’re going to go shopping and have a lovely time…if you can do it without being seen then buy some tests and we’ll take them together later” “I-if they..you know..say I’m pregnant…will you be angry?” “Of course fucking not…can I tell you something?” “Yeah” “I’m hoping that you are” he admitted. “Really?” “Yeah…I love you so much…and…and imagine a mini you and me”. He leaned down and captured my lips with his own. I began to worry about how he would react if the tests were in fact negative. “I love you too…wh-what if it’s negative?” He chuckled “Does that head of yours ever stop worrying?” I shook my head no “If it’s negative then…It’s just not the right time and we carry on just us two..until we think the time is right..yeah?” “I don’t know what I did to ever deserve you” I placed a big peck on his lips making his lips turn up into a smile. “Right..I’ve got to go before I’m late” he patted my bum lightly “I’ll see you later at the stadium…go and enjoy your day baby” Leaving the hotel room, but not before leaving a peck on my forehead.

---

We spent the whole afternoon exploring New York, eating lunch outside and chatting about all thing’s girls, we looked in every shop we passed, and Lottie took full advantage of me saying she could have anything she wanted in the MAC shop and I would buy it for her birthday. What are big sisters for, ey? What took me by surprise was that I didn’t even think about my missed period or the conversation Harry and I had all afternoon until we passed a small pharmacy. I looked around to make sure no fans were following us and explained to the girls that I needed to pick up some more toiletries as you had run out, and they said they would wait for you by the coffee shop next door, so we could travel to the stadium together. I picked up the box with ‘ClearBlue’ written boldly on the front and took it to the counter to pay for it, swiping my card and then leaving before anyone noticed me.

Once we got to the stadium, I made it my mission to find Harry. After looking in the obvious places, the kitchen, backstage, bathroom, and even the little cleaning room at the end of the corridor, still my eyes couldn’t find him. I made my way back to the boys' dressing room and as I turn the corner, my eyes find him. “I’ve been lookin’ for you” we both say together, making each other laugh.

“You okay?...Did you get them?” Harry asked as he looked around making sure nobody was listening. “Yeah…shall we go and take them now…you know..to get it over with” Harry took my hand in his and intertwined our fingers as we walked down the long hallway towards the bathroom. As Harry opened the door for us, we both turned when we heard an Irish accent “Wheeey! Don’t let Louis catch you both going in there” he teased us with a chuckle.

“Piss off Niall” Harry jokingly shouted back at him, whilst I rolled my eyes at their childishness. Once Harry locked the door behind us, I got the box out of the bag and began to open the box as I went to pull the test out, I felt a pair of arms sneak around my waist and a voice in my ear “You okay?” “Yeah..just a bit nervous”. Harry placed his lips behind my ear and let his linger there for a moment before he spoke.

“Heey..it’s all going to be okay..remember what we said this morning”

I left his embrace and removed the lid from the test as I walked towards the toilet. I followed the instructions and pee’d on the part at the end of the stick and then placed the lid back on before laying it down on the counter in front of us. Those 5 minutes of waiting felt like years, we were silent for the whole time just waiting to see if our life was about to change. Harry’s timer he set on his phone startled us. “Do you want us to..look together?” I heard Harry’s voice for the first time in minutes. “C-can you look…I’m too scared” “Okay” Harry tried to hide the shakiness of his hand as he reached for the plastic sitting on the counter that held our answers but I could see the slight shake of his fingers as they held the test. I saw some sadness in his eyes and I already knew. “It’s negative”. I didn’t know what to say but Harry broke the silence as he pulled me into his arms and held me to his chest “But that’s okay isn’t it…means we can try again when we feel ready”. “Yeah..I guess..” “No..c’mon..we’re not going to be sad..let’s make this into a positive..means we can do lots of baby-making practice before the time is right” Harry joked, making you laugh against his chest. “I suppose some practice wouldn’t hurt” “C’mon let's get back, before Niall stirs some shit with Louis about us sneaking off to the toilet for a quickie”

As we walked back to the dressing room with our hands intertwined,  where everyone was spread out sitting and chatting. Again, the Irish accent was heard “That was quick”, confusing everyone else with his words to which Harry playfully pushed him off the arm of the chair he was sitting on and muttered ‘Don’t be jealous Horan’. And as I watched on, I was reminded that a baby was not ready for this type of chaos.

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats