#but the reality of it is just...daunting. exhausting.

[important-question-anon]

Me getting impulsive thoughts to delete my account but I have 14 people that I don't want to scam out of a design so I must push through

[invisiblestringmm]

chapter one

secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought

pairing: fem!reader x mason mount

summary: A one night fling that turned into the reason of your whole life, then a month of falling in love with him… until he ghosted you. Mason was never there to watch her grow, completely unaware of his daughter’s existence. It was just you and Lilian Maisie against the world until fate decided play with you and change that — now you have to face the consequences of your decision to keep him out of her life for almost five years. And also try not to fall for him again when he reveals to be the best dad to your little girl.

author: I hope you enjoy this as much as I do. Thank you for sticking around, it means a lot!

warnings: this chapter contains fluff, angst, mentions of a tough pregnancy, language.

word count: 4.879k

Watching her was one of your favourite things to do; the way the soft dark brown curls bounced as she swayed around the living room, the way her cheerful laugh echoed every corner of the house and those big, brown eyes sparkled with pure innocent bliss - Lily was your everything, she was your whole life and though, at first, being a young single mum terrified your entire being, she became the reason of your existence. It felt like a lifetime, but it was just four years before that day that you were sitting where your dad was, on that large and comfortable armchair, with your feet up as you stared at a tummy poking out. You remember how that was the first time after finding out you were pregnant that you went from miserable to somewhat joyous to know a tiny human was growing inside you.

FOUR YEARS BEFORE

Every little thing bothered you to the point you’d grab the first object in front of you and throw it against the wall. Your hormones were everywhere, the nausea was unbearable and you knew it was a matter of time until you’d find yourself with another IV fluid bag hanging on your bedside. Four months of what had already earned the first place on your “lifetime worst experiences” list, when it shouldn’t be like this. You should be happy, and thrilled, planning your days and making a list of potential boy and girl names for your child. But you weren’t, considering this was far from what you expected of your first pregnancy.

The long sigh that parted your lips clashed against the daunting yet peaceful silence that took over Foxwoods House the minute your parents went out for grocery shopping after you insisted you’d be fine on your own for a few hours and how much you needed it. Even if they meant well and were just making sure you were healthy enough to be on your feet, all the attention could be suffocating, though their attention wasn’t focused only on you. Though exhausted, you tried your best to focus on relaxing once your eyes closed. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Slowly, you felt lighter, your body finally relaxing on your dad’s favourite armchair, and, unconsciously, your hands rested on your stomach and your eyes shot open when you noticed that there was something there that wasn’t the last time you touched it. Avoiding any kind of touching, talking, and staring at yourself in the mirror had been your way of coping with your new reality, even if it wasn’t a smart way of doing it. It wasn’t easier, either. 

“Oh hello,” you whispered, poking your tummy with your index finger. “I don’t think you can even listen to me yet, but… can you bear with me, peanut? Hm?” Brushing your thumb against your skin, your eyes burned with tears. You wanted things to work out, you wanted that kid to be born into a healthy environment even if it included just you — of course, your parents would be there, but in the end, you’d be a single mum. The idea of it terrified you but, deep down, you could feel some courage sparkling.

“I’m still new to this mummy thing, and I hope you’ll like me once you’re here with us, running around… but I promise you that I'll do my best.” 

Finally, you allowed the tears you were holding to fall, wetting your cheeks as you sniffed and quietly rubbed your stomach. For the first time since the pregnancy test was positive, you felt love engulfing you most softly. You felt peace and a strong motivation to fight for your child’s happiness. You’d be their best friend, the first person they’d think of whenever they needed something or whenever they were happy, sad, or confused. You’d be their everything because, as you watched that tiny bump, you realised they were your everything too.

PRESENT DAY

The final whistle blow and the loud groan that parted your dad’s lips brought you back from memories of the early and hard pregnancy days.

 It wasn’t the first time you watched your dad so upset that England was out of another World Cup, but this time Lily mimicked everything he did and as torturing as it was to watch, it was also funny. Both clapped their hands in front of the TV, mumbling words of encouragement to the squad though they obviously couldn’t hear it. Lily was dressed in her England kit, one of the many your dad bought her along with Arsenal kits, as he was a die-hard gunner and used to take her to most of the matches with him. There was no way Lily would grow up without football being such a huge part of her life. It was part of her and who she was, it was in her DNA - even if no one but you and your best friend knew about that.

Watching the scene in front of you became harder when he was on your dad’s big flat screen, and though your daughter was mimicking her grandad, she was the spitting image of him. Her dad.

For the past four years, you’ve found yourself doing your best to run from him but Mason Mount was pretty much everywhere you looked, being Chelsea’s star boy and part of the England squad. It hurt you, it opened a wound that you fought so hard to heal but he had to come back to haunt you now and then. You’d turn your look away, turn off the TV, and ignore his face whenever you drove by Stamford Bridge - but he was everywhere. He was on Lily’s face, bottom nose, and all. And, as far as you reminisced of his laugh, hers sounded identical. 

It hurt, it cut deep, and it made you swallow hard the horrible sensation that effortlessly took full control of you - so you had to inhale and exhale at a slow pace as soon as your sight blurred. Mason not being there for her still made you feel vulnerable, and not good enough for your daughter for you often felt like you were keeping her from being happier as she was always mentioning how much she wished her daddy was around, and you had either to make up dumb excuses or distract her with something else. You’d often listen to her through the baby monitor, crying out in whispers for her daddy - it always sounded like she was praying.

The warmth of your mum’s touch, softly squeezing your arm, made you feel slightly better and safe. She didn't know who Lily's dad was, but she knew what went through your mind whenever you spent too long gazing at your daughter. Not knowing the full story never stopped her from fully understanding you - she was a mum too.

“I'm alright,” you reassured her before she could say something, and watched her lips form a delicate line as a reaction to your words. She knew you were far from being alright - with Lily asking more questions than ever about her dad - but didn’t know what to say. It was something she’s never been through and thought you were both brave and a bit stupid for dealing with it all on your own, when even your dad, who wasn’t as warm as her, was entirely supportive since Lily became part of your lives. You adored them even more for being so respectful of your decisions.

“I never judged you and I never will, and I still wish you’d talk to me as you’ve always done… including anything affecting my granddaughter,” your mum confessed, doing her best to hide she was a bit upset, but failing miserably.

You nodded, moving your stare from Lily to your mum. “I see him every time I look at her, and it hurts me.”

“Because you still have feelings for him?”

“I don’t,” you were as quick as possible on clearing that question, it felt like a lifetime ago that Mason was the reason for the butterflies in your stomach and he managed to end that himself with his stupid behaviour. “It hurts me because my daughter is being deprived of a life with her father around.”

“You can always find him and tell him,” your mum moved her hand from your arm to your back, rubbing it softly.

“It’s not-” you sighed, brows furrowed, as your eyes searched for Lily again. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s always simple, love. As a mum, you know it’s always simple when it comes to making your child happy.”

Always the optimist, your mum pecked your cheek before leaving you alone with your thoughts. Not knowing the truth never stopped her from giving you advice that’d often feel right, but so wrong at the same time. If Mason was any other normal guy, you would’ve let him know the day Lily was born and you held her in your arms for the first time, seeing how much she looked like him. 

You would’ve let him know the day she took her first steps.

You would’ve let him know the day she screamed her first word - a loud, cheerful “goal” when Arsenal scored, making your dad the proudest grandad in the world.

You would’ve let him know the day she kicked a ball for the first time.

You would’ve let him know because you’ve always wanted Mason around, simply for being around and raising that beautiful girl as best as you both could. But there you were, doing it practically alone.

“Mummy,” Lily woke you up from your thoughts, softly pulling your sweater while curiously staring at you with her big hazel eyes. She giggled when you took her in your arms, sitting her on the kitchen counter with her little legs around your waist. “Are you sad it’s not coming home?”

“Well, baby… I’m a bit sad because grandpa is sad,” you watched her pout, nodding in agreement, as you played with her hair around your fingers. “Why don’t you go there and give him all the smooches in the world, huh? Maybe that’ll cheer the old man up a bit.”

Lily nodded again, a bit more cheerfully this time and you put her back down, watching her rush to her grandpa he nestled her in his arms as she kissed his face and squeezed his cheeks with her chubby hands. The truth was you were more than glad that the torture was finally over, with no more of him on your TV while your dad proudly cheered for England and, consequently, for Mason whenever his gorgeous face showed up.

For the rest of the weekend, you enjoyed the cosiness of Foxwoods House and that included long walks with Lily, baking with your mum, and playing poker with your dad while you shared half a bottle of whiskey - one of many in his collection. 

Although you loved London, a life away from the city’s fuss had always been your goal, even more so after Lily was born so you’d often take advantage of your parents owning that huge estate and drive to Cotswolds to enjoy a few quiet days with your girl. You could tell how much she loved, always bringing up that there were just two things that’d make your getaway even more perfect: her daddy and a puppy. Usually, you’d just give her a smile as an answer and kiss her forehead, but on your drive back to London you thought about how Foxwoods would be such a great place for some family time.

On Monday, you quietly walked into the usual warmth of your office, only nodding at a few colleagues who cheerfully welcomed you back after a disappointing weekend for football fans. You spotted Willow, your childhood friend, walking towards you with two mugs of the steamy coffee you always shared in the morning in each hand, and a smile splattered on her face - to which you frowned, because Willow had never been the one in a good mood in the morning.

“I’m guessing you had a fun weekend?” You asked, taking a mug from her hand and closing the door behind you as she made herself comfortable by sitting in the armchair by the window.

“You’d know if you returned my calls, Y/n.”

“And you know how my dad is,” you shrugged, feeling your body happily welcome the hot liquid. A large dose of caffeine and chatting with your best friend was always the best way to start the day, and you were lucky to work in the same place as he – just a few doors away as you two were responsible for different departments at the Swedish fintech you’ve been working for a couple of years. “No phones allowed when it’s Foxwoods weekend unless it’s-”

“An emergency,” she chuckled. “I know, I know.”

“So?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to tell you whatever she had to tell, as you lazily checked a few emails.

“I was feeling a bit bored on Saturday morning and decided to go to Paris.”

“Willow, you’re so fucking random…” You sighed and she rolled her eyes.

“Met with Arthur there, and we spent the weekend together.”

Arthur, her longtime french fling, the idiot who only showed up when he wanted something from poor delusional Willow.

“Well, can’t say I’m surprised, because I’m not,” you moved your eyes from the laptop screen to your friend, who still had that same smile on her face. “Why are you so happy, though?”

“I met his parents.”

“He introduced you to them?”

Then, when she sighed, you knew it wasn’t as she wanted you to believe and she was making a fool of herself again for a guy who just wasn’t interested. This time, there wasn’t a single trace of pride for being right, because it meant your best friend was now hurt. Deeply hurt. You watched her nervously chew the inside of her cheeks, sipping her coffee and looking out through the window as if there was anything fascinating outside.

“Hey,” you called her, bright green eyes looking at you. “Lily’s ballet recital is right before Christmas and rehearsals start today. Come with me.”

Finally, she flashed you a smile; one you loved seeing for a sad Willow made no sense as she’s always been the happiest person in your life, always cheering up everyone and looking after people while you looked after her, so she’d be fine too. The bond you two shared became stronger when you found out you were pregnant, and Willow had been there since day one - appointments, baby shopping, days you spent at the hospital due to HG¹, and sleepless nights when it hit you that Lily would grow up without her dad around. There was no one like Willow, she was the sister you never had.

You wrapped up work a bit earlier than usual so you’d, for once, make it in time for your daughter’s ballet class. It wasn’t unusual for your mum to pick her up from school and take her to classes, and even so, sometimes you’d arrive 10 minutes after all the mums had picked up their little ones once class was over. It made you feel horrible seeing Lily there, anxiously waiting for you, and getting overly enthusiastic when spotted you arriving at the studio - she’d smooch your entire face, and tell you how much she loved and missed you.

“Mummy,” she called you, squeezing your hand as you walked to the studio with Willow on your side. Looking down, you smiled so she’d continue. “Ice cream after ballet?”

How could a wrong choice in life guide you to this? To her? Almost four years later and it still overwhelmed you, because you never believed you had that unique thing that’d make you a mum, but somehow, you managed it just fine — with extra help from your family and friends, unquestionably, but at the end of the day it was just you and Lily. And her fish, of course. The only pet you allowed her to have for now, so she’d start to have some sort of notion of commitment. 

“We’ll see about that, peanut, but if we go then it’s on auntie Willie.” Lily giggled as a reply, entertained by the funny scowl on her godmother’s face for she knew that auntie Willie would do anything and everything she asked. 

“I’ll pay if you eat dinner first, Lils!” Willow said, and Lily sighed in return, as if her life was the most complicated she now had a tough decision to make.

She remained in silence for a while as you chatted about work with Willow, an important deadline approaching right before Christmas break and she knew someone would have to interfere or the firm would lose such a significant client like Nike. You thought that was the issue of making partnerships with companies that had their marketing branch and the ideas had to match.

That gentle hand squeeze was there again, Lily looking at you with her big, brown eyes that softened your entire being. “Mummy,” she called. “Can Summer come too if we go get ice cream?”

Summer, the ballet bestie you never met because you always dropped Lily at the studio later than the other kids normally arrived, and she was gone before you went back to the studio to pick up your daughter. You only knew what she looked like because one day Lily came home with a cute Polaroid picture of the two of them, taken by Miss Albright, the teacher. Your heart melted a little at how precious that was, the two girls clutching each other, tiny chubby arms around each other and big smiles on their faces — you could even swear they looked alike, maybe that was a bestie thing. 

“First I have to meet her mummy and make sure she trusts me, so she feels safe to leave her baby girl with me.” 

“Just like you do, mummy?” You nodded, a big proud smile on your lips at how easily Lily understood things. “My legs are tired.” She said, completely changing the subject and stretching both arms at you so you could carry her but Willow was faster and nestled Lily in her arms.

“A ballerina with tired legs? Oh my,” Willow faked a shocked expression, hands on her chest as she gasped, getting a cheerful giggle from Lily. You loved how she closed her eyes and tilted her head back whenever she laughed - your chest clenched at her adorableness.

“I played footy at school today, auntie.” Lily covered her mouth with her small hand, letting out a loud yawn. Your heart skipped a beat for a second, sharing a look full of meaning with your best friend as Lily laid her head on Willow’s shoulder and closed her eyes. “Mr. Martin said I’m good.” She mumbled.

Of course, she was good. How could she not be good at something that was part of who she was?

Willow gave you a comforting smile, knowing how much this could affect your mood, as you walked in silence into the ballet studio; a smiley Miss Albright welcomed you, gently pinching Lily’s chubby legs with a kind smile curling her lips. She was the most loving and understanding lady.

Lily quickly awakened from her short nap, impatiently wiggling her legs in the air so Willow would put her down. She stormed out to meet her classmates after blowing you and Willow a kiss - you left out a soft gasp, allowing the blissful effect that your daughter had on you to fully embrace you. Lily was constantly full of energy, always beaming, brightening the room every time she walked in.

Like her daddy, who had no idea about her existence.

A soft poke on your shoulder woke you up from your thoughts and you turned around to face a heavily pregnant woman accompanied by, apparently, her mum, considering they looked a lot like each other. They were both smiling at you, and the youngest pointed at your daughter, who was now clutching a little girl.

“Which of you are Lily’s mum?”

“Guilty,” you raised a hand, eyebrows softly furrowed as you let out a giggle. Taking another peek at the two little ballerinas, you frowned at how indeed they looked alike. It was easy to identify that one. “I assume that’s Summer, and you’re her mum?”

“Jasmine, but you can call me Jaz,” you shook hands, smiling at each other. She introduced you to Debbie, her mum, and you introduced her to Willow who quickly engaged in a cheerful chat with the woman.

“I’m Y/n. It’s lovely to finally meet you, Lily just won’t shut up about Summer,” you giggled, thinking of the never-ending talks about how your daughter’s ballet bestie is the… best. 

“She’s Summer’s current favourite person,” Jasmine said, linking her arm to yours and walking you to where the other mums were. That sudden loving gesture made a soft smile curl the sides of your lips - you weren’t friends with other mums, especially the ones from school. They were so hard to bond and you missed having someone else - who wasn’t your mum - who’d understand your daily routine of wonderful moments and struggling as a mum.

It was easy being around them, your mum arrived at the studio shortly before class started, and quickly bonded with Debbie about the wonders of being a grandmother; how they both spoiled the girls and were spoiled by them. 

The rehearsal went on fine, full of the cuteness of 4-year-old girls in baby pink tutus. You were happy to be there, so you could see how happy your daughter was as she occasionally waved between clumsy pliés and pirouettes. Nonetheless, she was a natural, and you weren’t being too biased — as a ballet dancer herself, Willow made sure to point out all the right things Lily was doing. Watching Lily so focused on everything Miss Bennett said, all the instructions she gave, and how your little one did everything so clumsy yet so perfectly made your eyes burn a little with some tears. You’d still think she was the most perfect creature even if she wasn’t your daughter.

Once the rehearsal ended, you spotted Lily yawning and blinking heavily, but you knew she’d remember the ice cream. Sometimes, you couldn’t negotiate nor change the little one’s mind, and she got all that stubbornness from you. 

“Mummy,” she started, and you took her in your arms, pressing soft kisses all over her face as she giggled.

“I know, my little monster. I didn’t forget your ice cream.”

When you invited your mum and best friend for dinner, they both apologised over and over, saying their time off had been exclusive to Lily’s rehearsal and they had to go — your mum, to your dad, because even after 30 years together they just couldn’t stay away from each other; and your best friend, back home, because she needed to meet her dad for dinner. That was when, kindly, Jaz invited you and Lily for Italian at a place she loved; when your daughter looked up to you with her best puppy eyes and the biggest pout she could pull off, you couldn’t say no. Lily knew very well that most of the time she did that you’d quickly say yes, the dimples showing up when she pouted made your heart melt.

And you were also looking forward to seeing your daughter and her new bestie interacting as if they were two adults, which happened, for your amusement. Though you were engaged in chatting with Jaz and Debbie, who were two sweethearts, you couldn’t help but feel completely hypnotised by how Lily behaved throughout the whole time you spent at the restaurant; she shared a colouring book with Summer and they both talked about school, ballet shoes, and pink tutus. 

Bonding with the two women was easy, especially with Jaz. You found out that Lily and Summer almost shared a birthday, with your daughter being just a few days older than hers; that you both had big families although you were an only child and she had three siblings. Debbie quickly explained that the siblings part was a bit complicated, but easy to understand, and in the end they were all family; she didn’t get into a detailed explanation, though, which you didn’t mind for it kept you from having to share something just because they shared too, although you noticed some curiosity sparkle in Debbie’s eyes when you mentioned it was just you and Lily living in a brand new flat that had more space. Your father kept teasing you about giving his favourite girl a puppy for Christmas, and you knew it’d end up in more than just teasing so you’ve decided that more space would be needed considering Lily wanted a golden retriever.

“Don’t forget about Moana, mummy!” The fish, your daughter remembered, to which you just nodded with a smile on your lips. 

You watched Lily having her strawberry ice cream as if there was no tomorrow, and you could only hope all that sugar wouldn’t keep her from falling asleep right after you bathed her or it’d be a long night trying to calm her down from a sugar rush. Jaz was going through the same struggle as she watched Summer; you noticed her eyes widening a bit but she giggled each time her daughter hummed in delight with one spoon after another of her chocolate ice cream.

When you said your goodbyes after sharing the bill, and before you left, Debbie kindly invited you and Lily over on Saturday for lunch, so the girls could spend a day together, playing, something they didn’t get the chance to do yet.

“Jaz will have her mocktail and I can make us some mojitos,” the woman said; Lily looked at you again with her pleading brown eyes, blinking heavily as she let out a long yawn.

“We’d love that, Debbie.”

After exchanging phone numbers and Instagram accounts, you went in different directions of the street - you wanted to squeeze both Lily’s and Summer’s cheeks when they blew each other a kiss after a long hug. Happiness washed over you seeing that it wasn’t hard for your daughter to make friends, and bond, even if not having her father around clearly affected her behaviour sometimes, often noticing that she, sometimes, was a bit needy and clingy - but also extremely kind and sweet.

Soon, you were home and while Lily went straight to her bedroom to pick clean pyjamas, you quickly fed her fish and met your daughter already waiting for you in the bathroom; ready for her bubble bath. Even clearly tired, she chatted the whole time, telling you how much she enjoyed dinner and that Summer was her best friend in the world - she also thanked you for being an incredible mummy and allowing her to spend Saturday with her friend, which made you swallow a sob at how adorable your daughter was. Raising that wonderful little girl mostly on your own was tough, but moments like this were proof of the fantastic job you were doing. 

Thankfully, after properly tucked under the covers, Lily mumbled an ‘I love you mummy’ and quickly fell asleep. You gently pressed your lips against her forehead, getting a sigh from her in return as if she had been waiting for it; when you walked into your bedroom, flickering heavily as you yawned, Lily was already snoring lightly - you chuckled at the baby monitor. You showered, switched into your pyjamas, and decided to check on your social media once you found yourself after the covers: there was a text message from Jaz but it was too late for a reply, and she also followed you on Instagram; you smiled at a picture of Summer in a pink tutu and of another one where the little one was between her parents, a wide smile, and her tiny arms was over their shoulders. 

But you wish you had never met Jasmine, or that your daughter had never met Summer at all when you found a picture of her entire family at a stadium, all of them dressed in England jerseys and a familiar face in the middle was on your screen when you decided to zoom in on the photo. You dropped your phone on your stomach, feeling your mouth instantly drying and your eyesight blurring - if you weren’t already in bed, the weakness you felt spreading from your legs through your body would bring you to the floor. 

Breathe, Y/n.

That was Mason, and it didn’t take you much to realise who precisely he was. Or who Jasmine was.

Mason was her brother.

Not believing what your eyes just saw, you went back to scrolling through her Insta and you felt your whole body trembling now, tears filling your eyes and rolling freely down your cheeks; there were a bunch of pictures with him, of the entire family on Christmas, of him with Summer. You felt the urge to vomit, your heart pounding against your chest so loud you could nearly listen to it. 

Mason was her damn brother.

Mason, the father of your daughter.

Lilian Maisie.

********* words:

HG: hyperemesis gravidarum: A severe type of nausea and vomiting during pregnancy.

[pluvialpoet]

bergamot

Summary: moments of quiet reflection reaffirm what you both already know to be true- he’s always going to come back, and you’re always going to be waiting with open arms

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader

Requested: no

Warning: idiots in love, friends to lovers, mutual pining, scarecrow's fear toxin, mentions of death and grief, slight angst, fluffy ending, loosely based off of batman: hush (2019)- but no major spoilers

Word Count: 3,930

masterlist

a/n: I know that dick has a tolerance against/is immune to scarecrow's fear toxin, but let's pretend he isn't...for the plot

Sleep is cruel in the way it continues to evade you when you crave it most. Mocking and teasing, exhaustion morphs into desperation. Even with your eyes shut dreams fail you, and nightmares taunt.

A siren wails, bellowing out into the night and echoing caution even after the initial cry has faded. Could be a police car, or an ambulance. Maybe even a fire truck. You try not to consider all of the possibilities, knowing it’ll only starve your slumber, further. With a huff, you adjust the heavy comforter, pulling it up until it bunches just under your chin.

In a few weeks, branches will be stripped of their leaves. Snow will fall, and the city will suffocate under a blanket of white. July was only yesterday, sticky and never-ending- infinite until finite. Now, January lurks around the corner- weeks away, but daunting, nevertheless.

The pillow tucked behind your back is a poor imitation of the brawn you wish feathers and fill could replicate, just as the one pressed to your chest acts as an imposter mimicking the body meant to be sleeping peacefully beside you. It’s impossible to tell feelings of loneliness apart from being alone, and deep down you know that reminiscence is merciless. Memory is wicked. But you can’t help remembering. It’s the only way you won’t forget- and even then, so much time has passed that you’ve begun to fade, and he’s begun to blur. Spiraling further and further away from reality and control, you drift towards hope, feeding each dangerous possibility until you have nothing left to give, but delusion takes and takes and takes…

Answers elude like comfort- and sleep. When, how, and why is lost upon you. He’s been gone for so long. Even so, your life has continued, evolving to accommodate the gaps he used to fill. Though, it’s about as effective as papier-mâchéing an open wound shut. Everywhere you look, everything you do, every time you shut your eyes, he finds a way to bleed into you, one way or another, and you welcome it every single time. All you really have are memories and a space in your bed which has always been his to come home to.

Outside, the wind howls. Angry and violent, the sound rattles the windowpane and you burrow deeper into the covers trying to block it out. Shadows dance across the ceiling, but none of them belong to the ghost you’ve been waiting for. Another frustrated huff fails to quell burning exhaustion, and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before checking the clock next to you. Neon green flashes, all too pleased to report that it’s well past midnight and you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. Already tomorrow, and you’re still mourning today.

Pushing the covers off, you shiver. There’s a chill in the air and little comfort to be found in the fact that the entire apartment feels cold and empty without him in it. At least it’s not just the bed. It’s the entire room, the hallway, and the kitchen, too. You reach for the light above the stove and begin to search the cupboards for a mug. If nothing else, at least a cup of tea will warm you up. Thanks to muscle memory, you act on autopilot, filling the ceramic with water and placing it in the microwave before picking a teabag and waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting, always waiting. Three monotone beeps call your attention back before it has another chance to wander away from you, and you retrieve the cup and place the teabag inside. Steeping time be damned.

You can’t wait any longer.

One leg curls under the other as you take a seat and bring the mug to your mouth. It burns the tip of your tongue, a small price to pay for your greed, and you swallow the too-hot liquid regardless of the consequences. The pain barely registers, anyway. With both palms pressed to the vessel, warmth finally finds you, and a barely contented huff passes your lips to blow the steam from the cup. It’s not always like this. It’s not supposed to be, but for so long, it has been. Never months, always weeks. You don’t know how to do this or how much longer you can put yourself through this torture when every sunrise twists the knots in your stomach tighter and tighter. How much longer until you snap?

You’re so tangled up in your suffering that you miss it the first time, until the hair on the back of your neck bristles. Did you imagine it? Silently, you wait, setting the steaming mug down to listen, and this time, you hear it. Faintly, but there. Real.

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.

I’m here. I’m safe. Can I come in?

Your feet move before the rest of your body does, and the chair scrapes loudly across the hardwood as you jump from it in shock. A cocktail of excitement, worry, disbelief, and fear bubbles and swirls through you when you spot a familiar glimpse of black and blue through the window near the fire escape.

“Dick?”

Crossing the room without any memory of doing so, you fiddle with the latch that keeps you from him, and him from you, until finally it clicks. With only one foot through the window, you reach for him, desperate to savor the illusion until mass, warmth and a heartbeat prove it to be real. Upon realizing, your breath hitches. He’s real. He’s real, and he’s here. No longer a dream. No longer a nightmare. No longer a vision only sleep can grant or mold, he stands before you. He takes a moment to properly slide the window shut behind him, returning the lock to its rightful position- keeping the rest of the world and the winter, out- before turning to face you once more. He can’t even get a word out before you’re pressed against him, wrapping your arms around him and holding yourself back from crushing him with the intensity of your longing. Overly cautious of injuries you can’t physically see- mindful of bruises, tears of flesh, and wounds that remain eclipsed by kevlar and moonlight- you embrace him with a hesitancy that severely undermines your fervor. Holding him gently- delicately, tenderly- the way you’ve dreamt about entwining with him on nights when sleep has been generous instead of cruel, you finally look up at him.

A sigh of relief dispels the hoarded tension in your neck, shoulders, and chest when you rest your head against his chest and inhale. Sweat and copper muddle his natural scent, but even when he’s covered in his victories, even when he’s drenched in his defeats, he still smells like home- warm, safe, familiar, and comforting.

He hesitates to envelop you with the same thinly veiled desperation, holding himself back.

Every muscle in his body carries the strain of battles fought and won. His head throbs with the force of his thoughts, and the inescapable dizziness that always accompanies crashing down from a high. Then again, he’s never been one to ease into things gracefully. Tiny cuts and scrapes, angry blacks and blues, and even gaping gashes that are still seeping and tender to the touch hardly register as anything other than a stinging, burning sensation. Everything is dull. Ferocity and intensity both subdued. Through the haze of everything that competes for his attention, you’re the one thing that’s clear. As always, the hold you have on him, both physical and metaphorical, brings him back to his senses, but doubt keeps him withdrawn.

Warily wrapping his arms around you, Dick returns the gesture as best as he can. Cages built of muscle, meant to keep you close, refuse to lock you in place, and he finds it increasingly difficult to resist surrendering to you entirely. Just as his nerves begin to settle they spike once more when the gravity of the past few months finally begins to sink in. As you continue to tremble in his arms, he swallows a lump in his throat and fights the urge to hold you impossibly closer. If he weren’t so afraid, he’d never let go again. But he’s not the same man he was the last time you saw him. Having seen too much, he knows that he can’t let this become something more. Fear is rotten. He’s seen the future, and if he keeps leaning on you then he’s only going to drag you down with him. Regardless of what he really wants, he won’t let this become something more, but then he looks down at you in his shirt and realizes it’s always been something more- and it terrifies him more than anything.

When pink swirls around the drain- a muted severity of soapy lather and remnants of crusted, oozing red- he rests his forehead against the cold tiles and lets out a deep sigh. He can’t remember the last time he’d had a proper shower. Under the trickling scorch, he allows his shoulders to slump forward, letting the too-hot water soothe his muscles like a balm, and it stings in a way he welcomes- a reminder that he’s done it again, he’s survived the worst and now he just has to survive the recovery.

He’s never been good with the after, always losing himself in possibilities of what comes next without taking a minute to catch his breath, but he’s trying to be better. He owes it to you. Not only you but himself, too- but mostly you. So, he tries to forget. He pushes memories too fresh to be forgotten somewhere else, banishing them to the far corners of his mind and locking them away until he’s ready to face his demons at his own pace, on his own terms, but his wicked creations fight back. Even when they’re crafted from delusions, mirroring real-life counterparts with a precision too exact to be a figmented replication, he finds himself engaged in an internal match that never crowns a victor. It’s a conflict that never ceases, even after his own surrender. Still, he’s found that the intrusions are less when copper is overpowered by citrus, and when red, inevitably swirls into pink.

Steam amplifies the smell of sweat and body odor, so pungent that the only word to describe it is bad, and he holds his breath while he reaches for your soap once more. He can’t believe you let him anywhere near you. It’s even more unfathomable that you sought an embrace, despite the remnants of battle that’ve woven themselves into his being- lingering, even long after. He’s repulsed by that which exposes him, a stench so strong that it serves as a testament to the fact that he reclaimed you as soon as he could, coming right back to this haven of sorts without any prior stops, and his stomach churns uncomfortably, the once soothing mist tainting each attempt at air, and a weight teases the aching muscles of his chest which breath does not alleviate.

Through the haze, he sees the truth- when reality remains undistorted by the tricks of his own want and longing, he recognizes fact without his own warped perceptions of fantasy- and he realizes just how careless he’s been. By allowing desire to suade better judgment, he’s put you at risk. Guilt punishes with an onslaught of emotions ranging from frustration to anger, sadness to grief, and even regret to sorrow. His own reluctance to accept how dangerous it was, and always has been, to lean on your affections as a crutch has finally caught up to him. After all that he’s seen, after everything he’s been forced to bear witness to over the past few months, coupled with a lifetime of loss, he’s no longer able to ignore the thought that’s broken free from the shackles of elsewhere. What was once dull, always there but never really forgotten, has become intense and persistent.

Every time he finds his way back to you, he invites peril into your life. He’s hazardous. Even if he’s not, being attached to him- in any way- puts you at an even greater risk of endangerment. Trying to justify something even as tame as a friendship is absurd. You’re so much more than that. Whether he meant for it to happen or not, you’ve found a place within his heart. Every beat echoes your name and carries secrets of his devotion. All that remains of the walls meant to protect both of you is rubble, and Dick stands alone in the epicenter of the aftermath, unsure and torn between chaos and order. Selfishly, he wants. Greedily, he craves. Morally, he knows that he should just walk away- but he can’t.

The scene shifts, ceramic tile falling away to reveal an eerie, yet familiar boneyard, and he shakes his head. It’s not real. It was never real- but it was so vivid. Cold fog obscures his vision, and he closes his eyes. This is a trick. This isn’t truth. He knows what comes next. Forced to indulge in his worst nightmares, the shrill, piercing sound of your terror renders him numb. He can’t move. Paralyzed, he fights limbs of lead, but he can’t act. It surrounds him, your agony, and he can’t do anything to save you. He can’t protect you. With each cry of his name, you plead, but there’s nothing he can do. When silence follows his ragged breaths, he refuses to look down. He hates this part the most, but he doesn’t have a choice. Crimson stains the black and blue weave, and he can taste metallic. He doesn’t have any control over this hallucination, born and bred from his greatest fear, and all he can do is witness the fallout of your shared torture- your blood on his hands, his body slumped against your tombstone, and the triumphant laughter of a clown, a scarecrow, a ventriloquist, and a hundred more that delight in your demise.

He can’t catch his breath. Drifting further and further away from reality, he struggles to claw his way back towards the light. When his vision begins to fade, he reaches for more soap. In for three counts, out for four. In for three counts, and out for four, again, Dick feels lightheaded. There’s no limit to how far he’d go to keep you safe, not a single rule or code he wouldn’t break to protect you from anything and everything- and that’s an entirely different threat, in and of itself. His loyalty has the potential to become his ruin, and he’d let it- for your sake- but would that be enough? Could his devotion be enough to keep you safe from the otherwise brutal fate that awaits you with, and without, his intervention?

The bite of a washrag leaves his skin raw. Lost to his thoughts, he’s been mindlessly scrubbing away at his flesh, dousing himself with bubbled distraction. Another breath fails to alleviate his unease. All he can think about is that which is out of his control, and he can’t help but wonder, is there even a chance for the two of you?

Every thought is a contradiction.

He could wax poetic to Bruce about love- how precious and fragile and conscious it is- but he can’t even bring himself to act upon his own advice. Even worse than following in a denialist’s footsteps is being a hypocrite, but there are just too many variables for him to take into account- too many what-ifs and maybe’s that enable him to cower behind words left unspoken.

In spite of this, he dares to dream of a future where you’re his and he’s yours, and nothing else matters. Lost to his delusions, a smile threatens to work muscles that’ve remained dormant for months of disuse. It hurts. Stretching, pulling, and manipulating his face to actually convey what he’s feeling instead of trying to veil it, hurts. However, the worst pain follows. As he reaches for the illusion, it slips through his fingers- so close he can almost hold it, yet just out of reach, simultaneously- and just like that, reality distorts the mirage. Pried from him, ripped away and sporting his claw marks, what could’ve been remains what could’ve been- and it’s all his fault.

Fear suppresses his love.

He’s already lost so much, he can’t lose this, too. He won’t. However glutinous, he craves more- even when he knows he can’t have it, he wants with a desire that’s almost too strong to ignore. Almost. Locking his feelings away, he throws away the key, but his ribs begin to expand with the intensity of his longing, and his chest feels tight. This isn’t like before. It seems as if his secrets have outgrown their cages, and he finds himself at a crossroads. His mind begins to drift and he wonders if this agony is why Bruce kept Selina at arm’s length…

A sigh, and a revelation- he’s not Bruce, and you’re not Selina.

Dick’s been going about this all wrong. Despite everything he’s been taught about love and loss, he’s allowed a life outside of a domino mask and kevlar. He deserves to cherish someone, to protect and devote himself to something other than his work- someone to fight for, someone to come home to- and he deserves to be beloved, too. Even if only for tonight. Even if tomorrow isn’t promised and all you have is right now, you’re here. On the other side of the frosted glass screen and plaster, you’re waiting for him. Another smile, less forced and genuine, feels like a relief instead of a burden. His skin pebbles under the frigid stream left in the wake of molten steam. With a shiver, he seeks your warmth, reaching for the faucet and stepping out of the enclosure.

A worn shirt rests atop the counter, the fabric faded from years of wear and wash, folded neatly beneath a pair of fresh boxers and socks likely left behind from the last time, or the time before that, or even the time before…truth be told, he thought he’d lost it, misplaced it, or given it away. Of course, you’ve had it in your care, all along. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch into a smile. Slipping the towel from around his waist, he begins to dress, wondering when you managed to sneak in without him hearing you. The door used to creak, and he realizes that you must have fixed it while he was gone. It’s hard not to think about what else might’ve changed since the last time he saw you. Would you have stayed with him, if he asked you to? You always have. Six years and counting, he muses if you always will…

His hair is getting long, again. Droplets fall from the overgrown strands at the base of his neck down his back, making him shiver and reach for his towel once more. He pats his hair down, ruffling it with the towel a few times before wiping away at the mirror. Making eye contact with his reflection he’s the first to look away. He’s looked worse and supposes that's a small win in and of itself, though he can’t stand the sight of himself any longer than he has to. A deep exhale and a shake of his head diverts his attention to the countertop where a spare toothbrush has been left out for him to use. Of course, he already knows where the toothpaste is. He helps himself with a growing smile and places it in the holder right next to yours when he’s done. His chest expands with something he can’t quite name when he finds himself surrounded by gentle reminders of your care. A small cup of water and painkillers act as physical embodiments of your thoughtfulness and he revels in the knowledge that you’re letting him know you’re there for him while giving him space to come down from whatever adrenaline rush the past few months have spiked. It’s in those silent gestures of love that he hears it the loudest, echoing and amplifying all around him.

It must be killing you to act so selflessly, and he tries not to be selfish with your affections, but it’s difficult not to feel like a burden when you’ve rearranged more than just a spot on the counter, or a place for him to keep his toothbrush next to yours, for him- giving him a home without expecting anything else in return.

Down the hall, the mattress protests against his arrival, angry springs squeaking from months of disuse before welcoming his weight and warmth on the side opposite of yours- his side, from the very moment, years ago, when he found his way back to you after a night that left him bloody and beaten but not broken. Never broken- not when he’s always had you. Though most memory of the first evening spent beside you remains a blur, the ability to recall details and specifics stolen from him as his wounds wept crimson tears that stained your hands and upholstery, fondness prevails. Despite robbed recollections, tender warmth, and affection remain. Even then, he knew. Without really knowing, without certainty, he was certain- he loved you, and you loved him, and every gentle, devoted gesture has always reaffirmed the one thing he could never doubt. Every silent offering, every selfless sacrifice, and piece of yourself that you’ve surrendered to him further insists that your heart acts in favor of three words never spoken.

His arm finds your waist easily, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to tiptoe around his reluctance to accept what this is, anymore. Not when you’re here. Not when you’re waiting so patiently for him, and snuggle back into his hold the moment he reaches out for you. Some limbs tangle, but not yours- the two of you fit perfectly together, like you were truly meant to be, and the moment that you’re allowed to converge, you press your palm flat against his arm, holding him close to you.

Reacquainting yourself with him after is always your favorite part. Though, your heart cleaves when your fingertips ghost over a new scar- the skin still raised and angry, even if the wound has closed. With something akin to sympathy, an apology for the pain he’s suffered that you can’t take away, you gently trace the new mark in acknowledgment.

Tomorrow, or later today, when the sunlight illuminates the sky, you’ll ask him about it. Or, maybe you won’t. When the first glimpses of warm light threaten to spill over the horizon, you might get answers to the questions you’ve spent the last few months pondering. Or, perhaps everything unasked will remain unresolved. Either way, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that tonight, you’ll sleep- safe and protected, at ease and engulfed by all things him- and even if it only lasts for the night, you’ll cherish whatever small moments of intimacy the moon grants before the sun, inevitably, rips them away- a fate you’ve grown to expect, time and time again.

Still, you let your eyes flutter shut, basking in the silence for only a moment before it’s interrupted.

“I love you,” Dick confesses softly, words warm and whispered against your shoulder encouraged by a fleeting moment of courage- and the tender caress of your touch- that prompt the secret to spill from his chest, an accident he fears he may have to render excuses for to salvage whatever broken pieces are left of this unspoken relationship.

“I know,” With your back towards him he misses the stretch of a smile ghosting your lips, and finds himself tensing behind you. Could you have really known? All this time? Is that why he always comes back? Is that why you let him? “I love you, too,”

“No, I mean, I really lo-“

“Tell me in the morning, yeah?” You suggest before he can get too far ahead of himself. Torn between wanting to clarify his confession and realizing that maybe he doesn’t have to, Dick relents. He can’t really argue, anyway- having kept this to himself for so many years, another few hours won’t hurt. With a breath- of acceptance, not defeat or surrender- he closes his eyes and finally relaxes into your embrace.

It’s over.

For now, Dick can rest easy knowing that when the smell of bergamot fades, this tacit love will always remain, and he finds enough comfort in the realization to let it lull him into a peaceful sleep.

a/n: I love him so much!!! this has been rotting in my brain for nearly a year and I just found it in my drafts last night lol! anyway, this started as a challenge to myself where I wanted to see if I could write something with only five lines of dialogue, and I'm curious to hear how you all think it turned out! as always, requests are open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 

everyone who requested to be tagged: @idyllcy @wicked-laugh @ul4lume

Send me some feedback, or request to be added to my taglist! (please specify which taglist you’d like to be added to- character or general) !Requests: OPEN!

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[ameliora-j]

— favorite girl 𐐪𐑂 niall horan

𐐪𐑂 summary -> you accidentally push yourself too far into subspace and soft dom!niall takes over

𐐪𐑂 content -> fem!reader, smut, masturbation [f!receiving], overstimulation, squirting, subspace, toy use, dominant/submissive themes, personal assistant!reader, crybaby!reader, soft dom!niall, daddy kink, praise, casual dominance, lots of pet names [pet, petal, princess], tooth rotting fluff and a bit of domesticity, basically an aftercare fic, 18+ ONLY MDNI

𐐪𐑂 words -> 2.6k

The sexual frustration had been bubbling in your core for as long as you could remember. Niall didn’t mean to neglect you, truly… But with The Voice, and then his album release, and merch, and tour dates bleeding together with festival dates, his schedule had become hectic. And as his assistant, so had your’s. It’s not like you could put ‘dick me down’ into his calendar either.

Well, you could… But you felt that it’d be quite immature. So now here you lay, sprawled across the bed you shared with him, a thick toy plunging into your g spot over and over. You’d lost count of how many times you’d made yourself tip over the edge, each orgasm bleeding together with the last. Tears of overstimulation prickled the corners of your eyes and you were nearly ready to give up.

The problem isn’t that you needed release—clearly that had already happened more than enough. However, no matter how big or thick the toy is, or how many times it plunges into that spot that makes you see stars… Nothing is Niall. Nothing would ever compare to the way that he made you feel, thus you were now bordering along orgasm number six and still weren’t satiated.

Not for lack of trying, however. You’d been at it for the better part of three hours, starting off slow and teasing yourself the way Niall always did, then slowly picking up the pace until you were blindly overstimulating yourself, your hips chasing the toy subconsciously in search of that spark Niall ignited inside you. Unfortunately, it never came. And that’s how you became a mess on the bed.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you gasped and wheezed for breath. The stimulation of your cunt was beginning to hurt. Slowly bleeding in from pleasure to burning pain. You wanted nothing more than to get away from the overstimulation, but your hips couldn’t help but chase the feeling as you searched for something only Niall could give you.

For a moment, everything stopped. Your leg was lifted in the air, arm beginning to cramp as you continued to shove the toy into your cunt. The world began spinning slower, and your vision slowly faded until it was completely blocked by a milky white cloud of euphoria. Your legs shook violently, your body convulsing as the toy slipped from your hand.

You lay in the middle of the bed, panting quietly as you tried to catch your breath while your body shook atop the comforter. Beneath you was a puddle of your own arousal and sweat, and only when you noticed how wet your body had become did the reality of the situation begin to daunt on you.

You just touched yourself. You just used a toy. You just made yourself cum… Multiple times—all of these without Niall’s permission. You broke so many rules. He’s gonna be so mad at you. Your heart began beating faster in your chest, now out of fear rather than exhaustion. You bolted from the bed, quickly getting yourself cleaned up and into one of his shirts before taking the sheets down to the laundry.

Your legs were unsteady as you walked around the house, and your mind unfocused. Niall would be home soon, and likely expecting dinner on the table the way you’d always had. So, that’s what you did… Or rather, that’s what you attempted to do. Your mind was so fuzzy, and your brain so unfocused that you ended up burning the pasta for your chicken fettuccine. The chicken baked improperly, and ended up tasting rubbery, and the garlic bread was too garlicky.

Nothing came out right, and you were so overwhelmed that by the time Niall was opening the front door, tears had begun spilling over your visage. “Hey Pet. I’m ho…” Niall cut off his own sentence, freezing in his tracks as he saw your state. “Pet? What happened?” He asked, panic and worry laced in his voice.

“I’m sorry” you whined out quietly. “I’m sorry Daddy, I burned dinner. And I messed everything up” you hiccuped out. “I was so bad I’m sorry, I’m sorry” you rushed out, now borderline sobbing.

Niall’s heart cracked, and his arms wrapped around you tightly. “Oh baby, it’s okay” he murmured. “It’s okay, princess. We can just order a pizza, yeah? Daddy’s not mad” he whispered softly, gently stroking your hair. “Not mad at you, jus please stop crying. Hate it when you’re so sad” he frowned softly.

“No, I broke the rules!” You sobbed roughly. Niall’s frown turned to one of confusion now, rather than pure sadness. He rubbed your back gently, pulling back a bit to gaze properly at you.

“What are you on about, Petal?” He hummed gently, squeezing lightly at your hip. He did everything he usually would, working to calm you down so that he could fully understand what was going on and why his girl was so distraught.

You took a deep breath, wheezing a bit as you struggled through your tears. Niall cooed at you in encouragement as you did your breathing techniques. Once you had calmed down, you began to divulge how you'd been so bad, breaking his rules. “I’m sorry, Daddy” you sniffled. “I was so needy and you were so busy. Know ‘s against the rules but I used my toy. Came so many times but it wasn’t the same. Needed you” you whined quietly, knuckling at your eyes. You took another breath, attempting to keep your tears at bay. “Touched myself, used my toy, ‘n made myself cum. Didn’ ask Daddy if I could, that's bad,” you finished. “I’m sorry for being a bad girl, Daddy… I’ll take whatever punishment you give me” your whispered.

“Oh, Petal…” Niall whispered softly. He pulled you closer, gently running his fingers through your hair. He lifted you then, carrying you to the couch and sitting with you on his lap. He pulled you to his chest, rocking gently with you in his hold to aid you in relaxing. “Daddy’s not been good to you lately, has he?” He asked softly, gently moving your hair away from your face.

You stayed quiet, afraid that he was taunting you after you’d broken so many of his rules. Nervous that he was trying to trap you into making your own punishment worse as he so often did. But you couldn’t handle that right now, you were too soft. Niall, being the oh so attentive and loving dom that he is, recognized that. He saw the unfocused and glossy look in your eyes, the distraction and frustration the moment he stepped into the door and watched you cooking dinner. Only, he didn’t realize how bad it was until you finished explaining what had tipped you to this point.

“‘S okay Pet, you can be honest” he hummed. “Been ignoring you, haven’t given my Princess the proper attention she deserves” he continued on. “Wasn’t a very good Daddy, was I?” He asked gently.

“No, Daddy…” You whispered shyly, gently nosing against his neck in search of more comfort. He squeezed your hip lightly, humming as he held you closer. You sighed in content, closing your eyes as your body fully relaxed against him.

“There’s my girl” he whispered, stroking your hip with his thumb as he felt you become malleable in his hold. “I’m sorry I haven’t been payin’ attention to you, sweetheart. I’ve been so distracted by work. That’s no excuse though, is it?” He asked. The question was rhetorical, and you knew as much when he continued on to answer it on his own. “Should always have time to take care of the prettiest girl in the world” he smiled softly, gently kissing your nose. “I love you, sweet girl. My good girl” he smiled softly.

“Good girl” you echoed quietly, nodding as you held him tighter. He smiled softly, pressing another kiss to your head.

“What do you say we have a bath and then cuddle a bit, hmm?” he asked softly. “I’ll get your hair all done, get you nice and comfortable for bed” he murmured, kissing across your shoulders. “Can order a pizza and put on that show you love so much, that sound good baby?” He asked softly.

“Sounds good, Daddy” you whispered, bobbing your head gently in a nod.

“It’s okay princess, ‘s just Niall now, hmm?” He smiled softly, kissing your head. “Think you’ll be okay if I go and clean up the kitchen?” He asked softly. You nodded once more, and with that he stood. He tucked the throw blanket around your slightly-shivering form and went to the kitchen. He was quick to clean up the mess before coming back to carry you into your shared master bathroom.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

Once in the bathroom, Niall set you down on top of the counter. He kissed your head before he turned and ran the water, making sure that it was the right temperature for you. He shot you a charming smile as he went back over to the cabinet you were sitting on top of. “What kind of bubbles do you want, Pet?” He asked softly, planting a gentle kiss to your calf as he kneeled between your legs in front of the cabinet.

“Um…” You hummed softly as you thought, chewing gently on your nails. “The lavender one” you finally decided, looking down at him with a shy smile.

“Take your fingers out of your mouth, beautiful” he mumbled, kissing the inside of your knee as he said it. He was firm in his words, but gentle in his kiss—speaking to you in the way he always did in this state of mind. This way, you knew it was an order, but you also knew he wasn’t mad at you. You murmured a quick apology, pulling your hand away from your mouth. He simply kissed your leg once more, letting you know all was okay before grabbing the lavender bath salts and bubbles.

He stood again, kissing your gently puckered lips and causing a giggle to spill past your lips. The sound was music to his ears, especially after hearing your heartbreaking sobs just minutes ago. He couldn’t help the smile that broke out onto his face as he saw your happiness return. “I love you, Pet,” he smiled softly.

“I love you too, NiNi” you whispered. The nickname let him know that you were slowly returning to your usual self, though the fog in your brain hadn’t fully cleared up yet. He turned, pouring the bubbles and salts into the water before returning them back to their rightful place beneath the sink.

Once the bath was full, Niall turned to you. He saw you nod, and knew you wanted him to undress you rather than do it yourself. He smiled in adoration, walking the short distance to you once more. He kissed your head, unable to stop himself from adorning your skin with his gentle lips for what felt like the hundredth time since he got home. Niall was soft as he unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it from your shoulders to leave you bare before helping you out of your underwear. “Do you want me to sit in with you or stay out here, Petal?” He asked you gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could get a better look at your pretty face.

“In please” you answered softly. And Niall would never say no to you anyway, but with that pretty pout and those wide eyes, he was already a complete goner; unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off of himself as he got ready to bathe with you. Once he was bare, he lifted you from the counter and sat in the bath with you in front of him, between his spread legs. When buying a house, Niall had taken into consideration your love for baths after he fucked you into oblivion—and right now he was thankful he remembered so as the two of you sat comfortably in the hot water.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

The bathing part of your bath was over quickly, washing you off always being the first thing Niall did. He noticed how sweaty your body had become from your overstimulation earlier on through the thin cotton of his white shirt you wore—thusly, he washed your hair for you as well. Even with Niall washing your hair, and cleaning your body of your sticky arousal and multiple orgasms, the bathing was over within fifteen minutes.

Your body still wasn’t fully calmed down by then, and therefore when Niall asked if you were ready to get out yet, you simply whined in protest. It had now been at least forty minutes since Niall had put the two of you in the bath. The water had begun to cool, slowly losing its relaxing aura the colder the water became. This time when Niall asked you if you were ready to exit, you nodded sleepily and yawned quietly.

Niall gently moved you, climbing out first and wrapping a towel around his hips. He unplugged the bath, grabbing your fluffy towel and lifting you from the water, wrapping it around your body. “Want me to brush your teeth for you, Princess?” He hummed softly.

“No, I can do it” you nodded softly, smiling at him. “Thank you, Ni” you murmured. He smiled, kissing your nose as he grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste for you. He let you know that he was going to get new sheets on the bed while you brushed, and you nodded in reply. While Niall made the bed, you brushed your teeth and got your skincare done. By the time you were walking out of the bathroom, Niall was putting the pillows back on the bed.

“Hi, pretty girl” he smiled softly, walking over to you. He wore sweatpants now, foregoing a shirt as he wrapped his arms around you in a hug. “Feelin’ better now?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, Ni” you whispered, nodding softly. You puckered your lips once more, and he obliged your silent request, leaning down and kissing you softly. “I love you” you whispered as the two of you pulled back.

“I love you, Petal” he echoed, kissing your head. “Let’s get you comfortable, hmm?” He smiled, carrying you over to the bed. He sat you down, going to your drawers to grab panties and one of his white t-shirts. He gently put them on you, helping you to put lotion on before detangling your hair.

He finished getting you ready for bed and got you beneath the covers, climbing in with you and pulling you close. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the remote, handing it to you. “Thanks, Ni” you whispered, turning on the TV and flicking to your favorite show as he took out his phone to order a pizza.

“Food’s on the way, baby” he murmured after a while, kissing your temple.

“You’re so good to me, Ni” you whispered softly, gazing up at him from where you were cuddled into his side.

“Only the best for my favorite girl” he smiled softly, kissing your nose gently.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

[follow my library blog and turn on notifications to be notified when i post a new fic!]

[another-lost-mc]

Gonna be completely honest tho. Like yes they are hot in the vampire au but I would be terrified. Like I hate needles and all of that and idk I just feel like I'd be too freaked out for it to be enjoyable? Does that make sense??

A/N: Honestly, same here, anon. lol I think my own MC would find the whole situation exhausting mentally if not physically. There's a lot of valid reasons why any MC might not want to get caught up in this whole mess.

In a lighthearted vampire AU, the characters might feel that vampirism is more of a nuisance than anything else. Ultimately, I think they'd still try to prioritize MC's wishes and comfort over their own needs. It would motivate them to find an alternative solution for blood/feeding (especially if it were a long-term/permanent condition).

This Sucks! | Why They Don't Want to be Vampires Vampire!DEMON BROTHERS x gn!Reader, 0.5k words, SFW Content warnings: references to canon-typical vampire behaviours including biting/blood-drinking. More from the vampire!au

─── LUCIFER

Lucifer doesn’t like depending on anyone for anything. This would be an extra burden for you personally, and the last thing he wants is for life at his side with them to be even more challenging. His brothers would be unbearable if he tried to claim your blood for himself, and he knows in his heart he doesn’t want to share you. (A trivial concern is that his fondness for Demonus, even a blood-infused version of it, might be ruined by vampirism—it’s one of the few luxuries he allows himself to indulge in.)

─── MAMMON

Mammon's too greedy to share you. If you don’t want to donate your blood, that’s even better—that way no one gets to feed from you! He’s also going to be busy figuring out how he can capitalize on blood alternatives if the condition isn’t temporary.

─── LEVIATHAN

Levi's disappointed because vampires in anime are so hot cool, but he’s intimidated by the physical intimacy of it. Oh, and he hates the thought of others wanting to feed from you too. (What if you compare them and you prefer feeding the others more than him?!)

─── SATAN

Human pop culture is so inconsistent with their monster lore. Satan understands that the reality of feeding a vampire (or in this case, seven of them) is daunting and less appealing than the fictional version you've read about or seen in movies. Besides, he has enough anger management issues to deal with—bloodlust would be an extra hassle. He's one of the first to volunteer to find a better a solution for feeding if the vampirism is permanent.

─── ASMODEUS

Asmo doesn’t want to drink anyone’s blood. Wouldn’t it make his breath smell? What if it gets all over his clothes? If he drinks from you in his bed, the stains might ruin his expensive Devilmoth silk sheets! He might seem superficial about it, but his biggest complaint is the possibility that feeding might scar you or hurt you in some way. Leaving his mark on you sounds appealing, but not like that—especially if you're already hesitant about the idea. (He's secretly worried one of the others might try to talk you into something you don't want to do, and he wants to make sure his own judgement isn't clouded so he can help protect you.)

─── BEELZEBUB

Beel has so many issues with hunger and self-control that the thought of being hungry for your blood upsets him a lot. He’s so scared of hurting you, and when he’s out of control with hunger it's difficult to stop him. What if the others can’t subdue him in time? What if—? No, he doesn’t even want to think about it.

─── BELPHEGOR

Belphie assumes that drinking blood would act like a stimulant, so the last thing he wants is to feed from you. Why would he do something that makes him more energized and makes you tired in the process? (He’s not sure he can convince you to only feed him, and the idea of having to share you with the others—except for maybe Beel—is intolerable.)

[footballerimaginess]

Twins | Part 2

Here is my second part of my Twins fic, hope you like it! Part 1 Word Count: 733 Trigger warnings: Mentions pregnancy throughout The last 12 weeks were awful, your first trimester was horrible.

All you felt like you did was sleep, throw up and cry. There was way too many emotions in your body for you to handle. You were exhausted all the time and the hormones were crazy, Kylian never admitted that they were too much but you just knew that's what he was thinking. The sickness was horrendous too, nothing you could do was stopping it. All you could do was lay in bed, Kylian was absolutely perfect the whole time. With his games and media commitments he was away quite often, but he was so caring and you knew he would make the greatest father. "I have some water for you, try and have some crackers or something. I am so sorry that you're feeling like this, I wish I could do something for you or just to take it away" Kylian cooed at you as he softly ran his hands through your messy hair. "It's ok. I will be fine, you best go. I don't want you to be late or get fined" you told him as he nodded and placed a small kiss on your forehead as you tried to snuggle down in the bed whilst he went to training. - As 12 weeks were over, you were told that you would start to feel better. That wasn't happening. The tiredness had slowly disappeared and were starting to feel a little bit better in that way but still had a tired feeling about you. "Hi" you smiled as you were up already and making breakfast. "You seem very happy this morning?" you grinned. "Well we get to see baby Mbappe and I am very excited. I am pretty hungry too" you smiled as you embraced him in a cuddle. "I love you, I am glad you are starting to feel a little better. I know the last few weeks have been seriously tough on you. But seeing you smile and feel yourself again is amazing. Carrying our baby is so special and feels crazy to see" you felt the tears fill up as you stopped yourself from crying. "Oh KyKy, that was emotional. I love you, are you ready for our scan tomorrow?" you asked him as his face lit up. "Of course, I can't wait" he kissed your lips gently as you carried on making the breakfast for the both of you. - Scan day was here, you felt so nervous. "Are you ready?" Kylian smiled as he pulled up to the hospital as you were ready for your 12 week scan as you made your way in. "Hello" you smiled as your midwife ushered you in as you laid on the bed. "How have you been feeling?" the midwife asked as you got ready to scan your stomach. "I'm okay now, feeling tons better. Tiredness was awful too" she nodded as she squeezed the cold gel on your stomach as she scanned your stomach. Kylian looked at the screen with eagle eyes. The midwife put the doppler down as she moved the screen further towards you. "Is everything okay?" You asked as you looked with scared eyes as you could see the screen more clearly now. "Yes, everything is fine. You are having not one baby, two. Twins" the midwife replied with the biggest smile on her face. "TWO?" Kylian remarked as you stared straight at the screen. "Yes sir, twins. Congratulations, I will print some scans out for you" the midwife smiled as she printed lots of scans off for you both. She cleaned her stomach as she handed you the scans as you headed back to the car. "Ky, we are having twins. Two of them" you nervously laughed as you felt like reality was setting in knowing how daunting it was that you were having not one but two babies. "We really are, this is insane. I cannot believe it at all, my mind is going crazy" Kylian laughed as you got in the car. "We need to tell people now" you nodded as you put your hand on your belly. "Two baby Mbappe's are in there" he laughed. "I need a rest after all that news if I'm honest" you laughed as you yawned. "Of course darling, anything you want" he smiled as you headed home before deciding how you were planning to announce the baby.

[masonmtxo]

You’d been anxiously picking at your nails for the past 10 minutes, a habit you had picked up from Mason over the years, as you sat at your dining table watching him standing on the patio, phone held up against his ear. You couldn’t see his face, but you watched as the muscles in his back seemed to tighten with each passing minute. You both knew the outcome of the phone call, you’d known since the deal was pulled after the world cup if you were being entirely honest, but it still felt like you had been free falling for weeks now, seconds from hitting the ground and your new reality. Change in life was inevitable and often for the best, but you were both so comfortable in your current routine and such a huge upheaval was daunting and something you were still praying to avoid by some form of miracle.

You knew the second the phone was pulled from his ear and he immediately crouched the the ground, head in his hands, what the answer was. Without a second thought you threw yourself from your chair, Mason’s mum, dad and brother who were dotted around the room, also silently waiting for the outcome, didn’t even attempt to race you out the back door, knowing that all he needed at that moment was your presence.

His face was hidden in his hands as you sped towards him but you could tell he luckily wasn’t crying, body shuddering as he attempted to calm his breathing and contain the sudden onslaught of emotion that was inevitably wrecking through his exhausted brain. You’d been on holiday in the weeks leading up to this moment where he had finally seemed to settle, even more so when the pair of you joined his family for another week in the sun. But the second you returned and reality set in, he had become increasingly unsettled and jittery, just internally begging for the saga to be over. One of the first thoughts that flew into your brain, despite it being a scramble of emotions, was that he might just finally be able to get a good night sleep, undisturbed by the frequent need to check his phone round the clock for any updates from his team.

The moment you reached him you dropped down to your knees, wrapping your arms around his tense body and burrowing your face into his warm neck. He was silent for a moment before whispering “its over, they accepted the offer,” pulling his hands away from his face so he could reciprocate your embrace. You sat like that for an age, no words shared, just huddled together on your patio, heads pressing into the others necks, breathing in the smell of each other to try to attempt to settle the onslaught of conflicting emotions. You slipped your hand under his T-shirt, scratching your nails along his back in a way you had discovered early on in your relationship bought him comfort, pressing kisses onto the skin in front of you.

“Y/n?” You heard him murmur, his tone apprehensive.

You gave his neck another kiss before pulling away, wanting to look at him but giving in when he refused to pull away from the hidden safety of yours, “yeah baby?”

He paused for a moment sighing, before continuing, “is it okay that I’m scared?”

You had never heard him so vulnerable in your life, tears springing into your waterline in an instant at the sound, “of course its okay baby. It would be weird if you weren’t scared. Im scared too!” You hummed as he finally pulled himself away to hold your gaze, needing to look at you in the eye as you spoke, “but we’re in this together okay? New adventure in a new place for both of us. We’re a team and you aren’t going to have to deal with any of this alone,” you cupped one hand against his cheek, using your thumb to catch one stray tear that had escaped his misty eye despite his desperate attempts to keep it together.

“You 100% sure you want to come with me?” He whispered, insecurity flooding his face.

“No doubts whatsoever Mase. Anywhere you go, I go, we’re a family,” leaning your forehead against his you felt him nod slowly, silently agreeing with you. You stayed like that a while longer, until Mason finally began to move away, ready to go back inside and speak to his awaiting family who had quietly allowed the pair of you your private moment.

You both stood, Mason leaning down to give you a tender peck before reaching for your hand. “Ready?” You asked.

“Ready.”

[leahrintarou]

can you please please please please pretty please with a cherry on top write a smut fic with a mean dom kita, but he still showers you in touches and fulfills your needs ? just like …… please make him so dirty, filthy mouth mean, and depraveddddd i NEED himmmmm (oh and breeding kink might fit in here too oops :D)

🎃 Kita Shinsuke - Hard Dom

Warnings: hard!dom kita x fem reader, jealousy, fem bodied reader, mentions of kita looking at other women, penetration/stimulation, barely noticeable breeding kink lol, im not used to writing hard dom guys so um i hope i did a lil sum sum with this lmao

Word Count: 1.9k

kita's hand increasingly squeezed the plush of her thigh, daunting her with her inability to focus solely on the screen. tighter it got, as every jumpscare played out. their living room was dim, the television sharply breaking the lack of light with warm and gray-scaled radiance. flashes of images spouting from its glint. her legs were enclosed around her boyfriend’s infiltrating digits with what she thought was an innocent gesture; though, unbeknownst, it soon came to be much more.

their night started off rather uneventfully, as their exhaustion made itself apparent from their long day out with friends. walking around aimlessly was the one thing that fuelled the drag, but not without feelings of isolation. With the pairing of cold shoulders accompanied by prolonged silent treatments, y/n didn’t dare confront kita with her mindfulness of when his gaze lingered on the faces of some of the women in their friend group. 'It's just basic manners of eye contact; he’s not doing anything wrong' is what she would relentlessly repeat to herself.

even though she'd try to convince herself that her boyfriend was never the type to do such a thing, his friendliness would counteract her ideas of hope with doubtfulness. kita noticed how she'd loosen the grip between their interlocked fingers whenever he'd share a laugh with one of the girls. how her smile would falter when he turned his head to converse with them. though this detail was small, he still picked up on how y/n would have him repeat his sentences because she 'didn't hear' him, even though they were within a finger’s reach of each other. all she craved was his attention, even if it were to be extended by a second.

tensions clouded their drive back home. in an attempt to swat away the fog, they mutually agreed to watch a newly released horror movie in the silent hopes of easing their obvious discomfort. kita began to develop the trait of learning to hide his emotions, which would prove beneficial to his volleyball team as it kept the opposing side guessing what course of action he’d take. Though, as they say, opposites attract. Someone could tell how y/n was feeling from miles away due to her expressive body language. nevertheless, as they sat together on the couch, whether or not y/n relished it, the way she leaned in closer to kita's person as his digits danced against her skin, kita had no trouble being able to read her true, undisclosed feelings.

y/n finally turned her head, breaking the session of excruciating silence and giving kita a lustful glare before placing eager kisses on the crook of his neck. despite the shower that he'd taken just minutes prior, the now-faint scent of his cologne still lingered within the pores of his skin, which she so desperately wanted to bury herself in.

one thing, of course, led to another, and that's what brought them here. kita's hands made restless motions of pleasure with the inserting motions of his digits in and out of her sex. y/n was already becoming a breathless mess at his lack of mercy with her. already coming to her high at least twice already; however, kita was seemingly unpleased. his eyes lingered on the screen of the tv while y/n hugged his arm to try and ground herself to reality while next to him. he forced her to keep her legs spread because if she were to do otherwise...

"i'll stop everything completely."

he said, his eyes still on the TV as he seemed dazed. y/n let out moans as his palm would slightly graze over her bud every once in a while. was he doing this on purpose? of course. did y/n have to know that? absolutely not. and even if she did, it would be the least of her worries since now the movie was coming to an end, which means that kita's attention was now fully focused on y/n. this might've sounded like a good thing a bit earlier in her day, but right now she knew that kita would observe the entirety of her while putting every damn thing on either of their bodies to good use. 

"shin, 'm s-sensetive. slow down for a sec-" her voice faltered with every other word. it was a sight to see, to say the least, and while kita knew he had the ability to follow through with her request, what was the fun in that? he smiled, leaning closer to her ear before placing a kiss on her temple. "why should I? my sweet angel was just complaining about how I gave my attention to other girls, and now she can't handle what she asked for." y/n let out a whine when he fixed his wrist to reach even further inside her. "you're being ungrateful, sweetheart."

kita used his thumb to now give her aching bud more of the attention that he spoke of prior. y/n was immediately sent over the edge at the overwhelming feeling, and the heavy moan that fell along with it was music to kita's ears. his lips wore a smirk of satisfaction when her legs shivered, desperately trying to stay in place as his previous warning was in the back of her mind. "those thoughts of yours can be really stupid sometimes, y/n." he says, his fingers slowing to a pace that would be bearable for her in her state of sensitivity. y/n noticed and was grateful for this gesture of his.

kita used her freehand to sturdily grip y/n's jaw, forcing her to lock eyes with him. "say it, y/n." he started, his eyes flickering down to her sex as he spoke his next words. "say that you're a stupid girl who lets this aching hole think for her." his fingers entered her sex a bit roughly, making y/n wince from the sensitivity. y/n's eyes glossed with unrecognizable and uncontrollable emotion. kita smiled slightly when her legs fluttered closely around his hand. he watched intently, looking back up at y/n with daring eyes that silently said, "close them and you'll realize that I meant what I said, earlier." even despite her many releases, she didn't feel all that satisfied, so she forced herself to think of something else. well, tried to at least.

all she could mutter was, "you're so mean, shin.." y/n whined with a slightly visible pout on her lips. kita released y/n's jaw from his hold as he watched her let out a breath from the action. he quirked an eyebrow, watching y/n's sex as he slowly removed his fingers from her at a slow pace. her arousal coated his digits and leaked down the back of his hand and palm as he held it up in front of both of their opposing faces. "am I, sweetheart?"

y/n was reluctant to give an audible answer, so she sufficed with a nod. "i just don't want that thought crossing this empty head of yours again." he laughed, his tongue skillfully catching the traveling arousal that'd made its way to his wrist. "i'll give you what you asked for, and you're going to take every ounce, got it?" he said, using the pads of his middle and ring finger to swipe a bit of her own arousal onto her bottom lip. he leaned in for a sloppily shared kiss, and as he pulled back, his freehand ran down her abdomen before stopping just barely under her belly button. he pressed into the area slightly, y/n shivering at the bitter temperature of his finger tips.

"is this where you wanna feel me, sweetheart?"

he asked, gently trailing his fingers further up, now stopping above her belly button and below her sternum. "or do you wanna feel me here?" y/n let out a whimper when he pressed into the area with much more force this time. "can you take all of me, angel?" y/n nodded eagerly at his words. kita wasted no time pulling his bottoms down to his thighs, revealing his erected member. y/n knew kita wasn't the type to come apart as quickly as his endurance allowed him to go on for hours.

he quickly placed his hands on her hips, lifting her to straddle his lap instead. he knew y/n was still sensitive, but that made it all the better for his chance of pushing her over the edge. y/n felt tears prick her eyes with a sting as he shifted her to swifly allow her to slide down onto the entirety of his member. kita let out a low groan that almost made y/n tip over the edge.

he found the whole situation pleasing, and as he admired her pleasure-filled features, he lifted her hips slowly before allowing her to fall back down, her thighs meeting with his own bare lap. he continued these motions, seemingly getting off from the friction, of course, but the way y/n reacted to every touch was just as arousing as ever. her whines met with the crook of his neck, and even as she tried to kiss him to muffle her sounds, he pulled back so he'd be able to hear every indication of her climax approaching once more. y/n was obviously displeased by his teasing, but she couldn’t worry anymore about that when he spoke, startling her just a bit.

"if you wanna cum, you gotta do it yourself, sweetheart," he smiled, and with that, he let go of her hips and instead rested his hands on the sides of her thighs. y/n's legs were practically burning, and she knew that he was dead serious, so she mustered up the limited amount of energy that was only being fueled by her pure desire to push herself away from his member, only to meet with his lap once again. kita watched intently, admiring where their bodies connected, letting out a stringy moan at the sight of his girl. y/n was nearing her high, and it was obvious when she gripped the fabric of his shirt with force. "do you want it inside of you, angel?" he questioned, following her lolling head as the energy was being drawn from her being with every movement of hers.

her eyes widened as kita hurriedly awaited an answer. she honestly didn't know whether to say yes or no. ultimately, though, it was never her choice. her body agreed with the first option. "speak up, y/n. i need you to talk to me." his voice was comforting and calm, and y/n knew this was his way of easing any pressure that she might've felt. Momentarily after, she nodded, kita quirking his brow, unsatisfied with her lack of audibility. "with your voice, sweetheart."

she let out a whine of his name before following out with his request. kita gave into his pity felt for y/n, once again firmly gripping her hips to aid her in riding out her approaching climax. they let out synchronized sounds of pleasure as their highs finally approached one another. y/n panted heavily, breath fanning kita's cheek as he admired the slight jolts of pleasure that continued to coarse throughout her body. his warm arousal settled in her sex as kita pulled her to his chest, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

"was i too mean for you, angel?" he teased, letting out a small laugh as she nodded to his words. "then how should I receive your forgiveness?" with that, she lifted her head, already knowing the intentions behind his words. "shinsuke, I'm tired-" she mumbled with a groan.

"how about a two-minute break then?"

"just...TWO MINUTES?" 

I HOPE U ENJOYED THIS, IT WAS A LAST RESORT CHAPTER FOR KINKTOBER THIS YEAR :) !!

Taglist: @meowmeowmau @jiwooahae @sunaemoby @diana7was7here @msbyomimi @chocoweird0 @riiceandsoup @issllaaa

[cradle-quill]

Ramblings

Feeling some heavy imposter syndrome today, so I figured I'd just share my thoughts. Maybe they'll be helpful for someone.

I try really hard to be a good caregiver. To be a good person in general, really. But part of being a good person and a good caregiver is recognizing my faults. I can be petty. Sometimes, I feel like a failure when I fail to make my little happy, or if I do say something that upsets them.

I have two writing projects here I really need to be working on, and yet whenever I think about getting started on them, it feels like I'm at the bottom of an insurmountable mountain. It's silly, really. This kind of writing is when my skills are at their most loose and free. I think that comes through in the writing itself. But still, I feel like what I put out isn't good enough, despite all the wonderful people who enjoy my work.

I also have a vanilla book I ought to be writing. But the whole task feels so daunting that I procrastinate it to the ends of the Earth. I'm indulging in video games more than I'd like right now, partly because I want to hide from the reality that the book needs to get done, and I'm not ready to do it. But at the same time, I hate feeling ashamed about the hobbies I enjoy, the ones that truly mean something to me.

There's a lot of shame in general in my life. I worry about making the wrong decisions, taking the wrong steps. I don't think I want to please everyone. But I don't want anyone to be mad at me. I want as many people as possible to at least respect me, and that desire often gets me into trouble. It makes me make stupid mistakes, and those are on me.

I wish I was better at staying in touch with people. I struggle with it so much, and I wish I fully understood the reason. I know my ADHD makes it hard to get back to people, and to stay engaged in text conversations. But also, that feels like an excuse. And like maybe I should be doing more to counteract that. But then I get to thinking how much time I spend talking with people when I do talk to them, and it's like, where is the time in the day. Sometimes I wonder how other people find time for their work, their friends, their hobbies, etc.

There's no real point to any of this. It's just my sprawled out thoughts. I think about so many things all at once. It's like there are multiple conversations with myself happening in my brain all at once, and it's exhausting sometimes. I don't think this post does anything to fix that, really. But maybe just acknowledging it somewhere outside of my own head is enough. Maybe someone will feel seen. I don't know. But I'd like to think there's a point to all this.

[romanoffsbish]

I Can’t Breathe…

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

WandaNat x Fem!Reader (“Platonic”)

Warnings‼️: Suicidal ideation / attempt, Depression, descriptions of drowning both physically/emotionally, Disassociation, and misguided anger. | 1,836 Words

Drowning… You’d always heard it was a peaceful way to go, that once your body’s natural panic is overrun by the all consuming body of water that it’s just like going to sleep. It’s definitely not like the movies, there’s no grand fight to survive, you don’t flail about for hours on end screaming for someone to help, no, it’s a much more daunting experience. Silence all but surrounds you as you try just to keep your head above water, when the exhaustion in your limbs starts to win out, and the panic seeps in it’s likely you’ll gasp or hyperventilate before you finally submerge to the darkness threatening to pull you in.

————

From a personal standpoint you reason it also can’t be that bad when it already feels like you’re drowning above ground to begin with. You watch on, the physical being that houses you walks around lifelessly, and you watch from beneath the surface to see the wreckage.

It’s like you’re not even a person anymore, to exist within the four walls of the compound is nothing short of dreadful, for you and all those who are stuck living around you.

The way everyone looks to you now like you’re no more than a disappointment, as if their life would improve if you were gone, and as the days blend together, and Steve yells at you for the millionth time this year, you begin to think it’s a rather proper assumption.

“Y/L/N! For Christ’s sake what has gotten into you?! Are you so careless that you can’t follow a simple order from your superiors?,” you say nothing, eyes focused in on the star on his suit., “Ignoring me are we? God, you’ve really lost touch with reality haven’t you?,” he releases a bitter chuckle as he moves to level with you., “Put all of us in danger today when you unfroze reality before we were even ready! Now Bucky’s in the infirmary, and not a soul here in is unharmed besides you. You’re a disaster!”

“Jesus Steve, lay off the kid!,” Tony tries to defend you, and if you had the energy to you’d tell him to stop, to drop it because Steve was right, you’re far off from reality, but instead you remain just as silent as when the soldier was directly speaking to you. As the men began to bicker you find your feet move of their own accord, removing you from the dissension; aimlessly you walk the halls of the compound with nothing but the peaceful sounds of waves crashing over you in your mind.

Natasha and Wanda share a panicked look when you walked out of the conference room with that newfound empty expression of yours, those eyes of yours no longer holding all that they’ve grown to love about you. You’re just a hollowed out shell of what they all once knew, long ago are the days where you would smile, and it’s breaking them to see you so torn up. You’ve completely shut them out, it’s been months since they even got to talk to you, but Wanda reasons that as long as she can feel you it’ll be okay, that they’ll give you this space.

—

“Wands, I’m not sure space is the answer.” Natasha sighs while taking up her space in their shared bed., “She has to hit rock bottom Natty, until then nothing we do will help her.,” Wanda reasons, but a massive part of her wonders if she’s on the right track anymore., “Wanda, I think this is her rock bottom.”

Wanda shuts the light off, and slips into a restless sleep alongside her tormented lover, both of them praying you’ll be there when they awake, but both well aware of the chance that you could very well not be.

—

You’re not sure when you slipped into the tub with all your clothes on, but the little bit of cognition you’re holding onto says it’s been at least two hours. Your body shivers violently as the waters lost all its warmth, but instead of getting out, you slip under the surface, and just as you felt yourself ready to give up you shot up, lungs naturally having you gasp for air. Deeply you wished that you were in favor of living, that you did that for you, but the only reason you stopped the inevitable was them.

Natasha and Wanda deserved better than to find your lifeless body in the tub, to see that you’d pitifully given up, and left them behind to pick up the pieces of your fractured life. Passing on your pain isn’t your intention, and so you step out of the tub, loud squelching noises follow you as your soaked clothes move with you into your connected bedroom.

After changing your clothes you creep into the darkened hallways, the likelihood of anyone being awake right now is low, and even then Tony’s likely in his lab with no mind paid to you and your whereabouts. As quietly as you can you cross the hall and enter the room of the women who’ve owned your heart for the better part of the last five years.

“I’m sorry.,” you choked out, your voice even shocking you since it’d been months since you last muttered a word to anyone, you settled a soft kiss to each of their foreheads, and wiped away your fallen tears from their calm brows., “I love you, please don’t hate me…,”

They couldn’t hear you, or feel you of course; seeing as how you’d frozen time in their tiny space, but you simply couldn’t follow through with your plans without a proper goodbye.

With a wave of your hand you’d teleported out of their bedroom, time resuming for the both of them, and as soon as it did Wanda shot up in a panic. She did in fact feel and hear you, but she couldn’t fucking move, she couldn’t scream out to you, it was a terrifying situation for the witch who’d never been bested like this before.

“Natasha! Get up, Y/N’s about to do something stupid, fuck…,” she shrieked, and the assassin jumped to her feet., “Wanda, what happened?,” she asked while slipping her shoes on, anxiety crawling up her spine when she could smell you, your natural scent having lingered., “She’s trying to end her pain Tasha…,” she says over a choked back sob, her body already halfway out the window., “Go, I’ll be right behind you.”

Wanda flew right off, she knew where you were going—they both did, it was the one place you’d always found a sense of calm in this world.

—

It was a beautiful sight, the sunrising over the ocean while your feet dangled over the cliffside, you appreciated the beautiful farewell hues. Memories of all the good flashed across your mind, just like they say it does when one’s about to lose it all, but the oddity here was you’d done nothing to yourself yet. The sound of leaves crunching woke you up from your memory spiral, and it was then you recognized the red hues touching the corner of your mind.

Wanda was stood before you in a mess of tears as you jumped to your feet, pushing her right out of your mind, and you froze the tendrils that sought to bind you in place., “Go home.,” you cooly instructed her, but she just shot more of her magic your way to keep you from your perceived destiny., “Wanda, I’m serious!,” you shouted this time, your patience wasn’t what it used to be, it even hurt to see her flinch, but that just couldn’t compare to your daily misery.

“Y/N, please, you have to know this isn’t the answer!,” you scoffed., “Wanda, this is the only answer that has made sense to me all year.,”

Wanda wasn’t going to stop, you knew that much, so you did the only thing you could do. Wanda pleaded with you to stop, but your hands were up before she could even finish her ‘I love you.,’ hearing it would’ve hurt too much. It wasn’t true anyways, she loved Y/N Y/L/N, and at this point you’re not sure she exists anymore., “I’m sorry Wands, you’ll be okay.”

It was now or never you realized, it was only a matter of time before the other half arrived. Taking a steadying breath you began to run for the cliffs edge, but Natasha’s bike slid across the rocky terrain and she jumped off to tackle you, and to your complete shock it worked. You’d had many skills, but being a better fighter than The Black Widow wasn’t one of them, she always overpowered you when your powers were off limits., “Natasha, get off!”

“Are you fucking stupid? Absolutely not!,” she growled, her face now hovering above yours., “Natalia, I’m not fucking playing, get off of me, and let me put us all out of our misery!,” you struggled against her hold, but it was no use.

Natasha could quite literally hold you in place with her toned thighs alone, and with hands you might as well resolve to letting her carry you home now., “This is beneath you Natasha, saving a screw up like me isn’t your job.” She chuckled humorlessly., “You are beneath me, that is one thing you have correct here Y/L/N.”

Her play on words only pissed you off, as if taunting you was fair at all., “I’m not going back with you two, so give up already!,” she scoffed., “You don’t have a fucking choice.”

You began to thrash beneath her, even if you couldn’t get her off you could definitely upset her peace., “Let me die! It’s my fucking choice, not yours, not hers, mine!,” Wanda was now by you since Natasha cuffed your hands, using her lap she shielded your head from the rocks you were violently bashing against., “I don’t want to do this anymore! I’m so fucking exhausted, I’ve never had a choice, and I finally do now so let me make it, and just fuck right off.”

“Let me go!,” you sobbed repeatedly, and the women watched you, helpless as you broke down beneath them., “I don’t want to live.,” you continued to cry out, your body shook with inconsolable sobs., “Please…,” but the strength you once had faded the longer you laid there.

“Shh, detka, we’ve got you.,” Wanda coo’d, her strong arms lifting your now pliant body up and into her hold, and Natasha scooted in to sandwich you in between them., “We’re not going anywhere dorogoy, you’re not alone.,” she added, laying a kiss to your sweaty temple, and allowing her own tears to finally fall as you heartbreakingly whimpered in Wanda’s arms.

Wanda and Natasha shared a knowing look, this was your rock bottom, and they were glad they got to ensure it stayed metaphorical, and they knew without a shadow of a doubt that they’d do anything to ensure it stayed as such.

————————————————————

[mariposa-writes]

Shattered Bonds

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Word count: 2.6k

Overview: In the aftermath of your brother's mysterious death, a shattered bond of trust separates you from your closest friend, Simon.

CW: Grief and loss, substance abuse, mentions of death, mild violence, mental health.

Author's Note: Thinking about doing a second part to this. Let me know if I should make it a happy or sad ending. Please like, comment, and REBLOG.

Your deepest nightmare had manifested itself into reality. You were completely and utterly alone.

Although, to be fair, your residence was currently bustling with individuals. Some were acquaintances from high school, while others were mere strangers. Nevertheless, none of their presence held any significance.

For in that very moment, you were truly alone in this world.

Your brother, confidant, partner in mischief, your lifeline—had passed away. You grappled with the daunting prospect of life without him. The idea of moving forward, devoid of his calls, embraces, or even his woefully bad dad jokes, was unfathomable.

You sat on your couch, surrounded by well-intentioned individuals attempting to offer solace, their words often fading into a distant murmur.

"He's in a better place now."

"He'll always be with you."

"Your brother was a great man."

_______

A month had crawled by since the funeral, each day stretching out like a lifetime. From the moment you woke up to the departure of the last guest from your home, time moved at a glacial pace, as if it had forgotten how to flow.

The ache in your heart remained as profound as ever, a constant companion through these long, lonely weeks.

Your nightly routine had undergone a transformation, abandoning its structure and order. Instead, you settled for a quick shower before cocooning yourself in the familiar embrace of your sweatpants and a t-shirt that had once belonged to your brother. The fabric still carried his scent, a faint trace of his presence that offered a small measure of comfort in this new, uncertain reality.

The kettle on the stove reached its boiling point, its shrill whistle slicing through the heavy air just as a knock echoed at your door. You took the kettle off the burner, wondering who it could be at this late hour of the night.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned, your gaze drilling into the man before you.

"I came to make sure you were okay," he replied.

"Cut the act, Simon. You ignore my calls, don't bother with my texts, and now you think you can just show up out of the blue?" You huffed, your indignation evident.

"I know, I'm sorry," he admitted.

"Sorry?" You questioned incredulously. "This has been the most excruciating month of my life, and you were nowhere to be found!" A tear welled up in your eye, and you sniffled. "I needed you," you admitted weakly, your vulnerability surfacing in the midst of your anger.

He stepped closer, his hand gently resting on your waist. "I'm here now," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. With a tender gesture, he pulled you into his chest, enfolding you in the warmth of his embrace as his arms wrapped around your weeping form.

You had the impulse to resist, to push him away, but the exhaustion of the past month had drained you of all resistance. Instead, you surrendered to the solace of his arms, seeking the comfort that had been absent ever since you'd received the devastating news about your brother.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle or a quiet sob that escaped your lips. Simon held you tightly, understanding that words couldn't mend the pain, but his presence might provide some respite.

As time passed, you both remained locked in that intimate embrace, sharing the weight of your grief. The world outside seemed to fade away, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, united by loss and the fragile bonds of friendship.

Eventually, you pulled away, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. "It's cold, come in. I was making tea." You offered, feeling calmer than you had all month now that Simon was here.

You led Simon into your cozy living room, the scent of tea already permeating the air. The familiar surroundings of your home offered a sense of security, and you found yourself beginning to relax, the tension in your shoulders easing.

As you settled onto the couch, you couldn't help but think about the history between you and Simon. He had always possessed a calming presence, a quality you had sensed from the first time your brother had brought him home, introducing him to your family as his best friend.

Since that day, Simon had become a constant presence in your life. You struggled to remember a time when he wasn't there, a reliable and steady companion through the ups and downs of life. His absence during this difficult month had been a stark departure from the norm, but you were determined to cherish the connection that had endured for so long.

Simon nodded appreciatively as you handed him a steaming cup of tea. "Thank you," he said softly, his eyes reflecting the depth of his regret.

______

Simon stayed around after that, choosing to sleep on your couch instead of returning to base. You didn't protest; in fact, you found comfort in his presence.

The days were a mix of tension and familiarity, with the occasional awkward moments, especially when you couldn't help but recall how Simon had left you when you needed him most. However, there were also moments of ease and comfort.

Growing up, you, Simon, and your brother had practically been inseparable, spending weeks, if not months, together in your house. So, in some ways, this situation wasn't entirely new.

As time passed, the two of you settled into a natural routine. Simon would depart during the days, his destinations often a mystery, while you worked from home, only venturing into the office when absolutely necessary.

This morning, like many others, Simon had already left before you had even gotten up. It was a pattern you had grown accustomed to; he usually went to bed later and rose earlier.

While preparing a cup of tea, your gaze happened upon the calendar magnetically adhered to your fridge. Today's date stood out, encircled and embellished with doodles, marking your brother's birthday. You hadn't forgotten what today was; in fact, you preferred not to dwell on it. The weight of his absence had made every reminder a poignant stab at your heart.

You found your gaze fixated on the calendar for longer than you'd like to admit, your thoughts mired in a swirl of emotions. Finally, you abandoned the idea of making tea, pouring out the water, and instead retrieved a twelve-pack of beer and a bottle of vodka from the fridge.

Slamming the fridge door shut, you felt a surge of frustration as that date continued to taunt you from the calendar. Placing the bottle of vodka on the counter, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You yanked the calendar off the fridge, crumpled it up, and forcefully deposited it into the trash can, as if by doing so, you could erase the painful reminder of the day.

With your work computer carelessly stashed into your bag, you abandoned the day's responsibilities. Instead, you reached for the TV remote, its familiar weight comforting in your hand. You powered on your favorite show, seeking refuge in its distraction.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the bottle of vodka, uncorking it with a swift motion. Without hesitation, you lifted it to your lips, taking a shot. The fiery liquid burned its way down your throat, and you welcomed the sensation, hoping that the alcohol would soon numb your senses to the point where you wouldn't remember the day of the week, let alone the painful date etched in your memory.

______

The sun had begun its descent on the horizon when Simon finally returned home. He anticipated finding you either at the table diligently working on your tasks or perhaps sitting on the couch, engrossed in a show or book. However, the sight that greeted him sent a pang of sorrow through his heart.

There you were, sprawled out on the couch, your form limp and vulnerable. Empty beer bottles lay scattered on the floor around you, and a half-empty bottle of vodka sat ominously on the coffee table, a stark testament to the attempt to drown out the pain that had overwhelmed you.

Simon let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing upon him as he dropped his bag on the floor. With a sense of determination, he made his way over to you, gently picking up the empty bottles and disposing of them in the kitchen trash. The half-empty bottle of vodka found a new home in a cabinet that he hadn't seen you use before.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with both worry and understanding. "Let's get you to bed."

With gentle strength, he carefully lifted you from the couch and carried you to your bedroom. There, he assisted you in changing out of the alcohol-scented clothes and into a clean t-shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts, maneuvering your body with utmost care. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, his actions were marked by a deep sense of compassion and an unwavering commitment to helping you through this difficult time.

He tucked you snugly into bed, making sure you were comfortable before reaching for the cord on the lamp. Just as the room dimmed, your hand reached out and gently grasped his wrist. Your voice was groggy as you asked, "Can you stay with me tonight?"

"Of course," he answered without hesitation. He got into bed beside you, providing the reassuring presence you so desperately needed.

You wasted no time, curling up in his side and laying your head on his chest. His arm circled around you, keeping you securely tucked into his side.

You lay there in silence, desperately attempting to coax yourself into slumber, yet sleep remained elusive. Your mind had become a battlefield ever since Simon had unexpectedly appeared at your doorstep, relentlessly tormenting you with a single, haunting question.

No matter how hard you tried to move past what Simon had done, it proved to be an impossible task without an explanation. His abrupt disappearance from your life continue to baffle you, leaving a gaping void that couldn't be filled. In the quiet of the night, you summoned the courage to confront him, unsure if he was already asleep.

"Simon?" you whispered hestantly.

"Hmm?" came his drowsy response.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady your nerves, you pressed on. Asking the question that had relentlessly gnawed at your thoughts ever since Simon had taken refuge in your home. "Why didn't you come to the funeral?" Your voice was barely louder than a mouse's, laced with uncertainty

"I was working," Simon repeated, but you weren't convinced. you knew him too well. His voice had that ever-so-slight elevation that only someone intimately familiar with him could detect.

You leaned in closer, your eyes narrowing in the dim light of the room. "Simon, we've been through too much together for me not to know when you're lying. What's the real reason you didn't come? Why didn't any of the task force come?" Your words carried a mixture of frustration and hurt, a reflection of the years of friendship that seemed to be unraveling before your eyes.

Simon let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. His reluctance to meet your gaze was evident as he finally confessed, "I was investigating your brother."

Startled, you sat up abruptly, putting some distance between yourself and Simon. "Investigating my brother?" your voice trembled with a mix of confusion and concern. "Why? Did he do something wrong?" The thought of your brother being involved in something illicit or dangerous sent a shiver down your spine.

The weight of Simon's revelation hung heavily in the air, and tears welled up in your eyes as you absorbed the shocking news. Your brother had dedicated himself to the military, pouring his heart and soul into his service. The idea of him being labeled as a "dirty officer" by the very institution he had sacrificed so much for was a painful blow.

Reluctantly, you found the strength to voice the question that you dreaded to ask. "Do you think he's dirty?"

Simon's silence spoke volumes, confirming your worst fears without a single word. The truth lay heavy between you, a bridge burned and a bond strained by the shadows of doubt.

With a heavy heart and a mind clouded by a whirlwind of emotions, you rose from the bed, determined to put some distance between yourself and Simon. The betrayal and uncertainty weighed on you, and you needed space to process it all.

As Simon made a move to approach you, you whispered, "Get out of my house," your voice barely audible in its initial plea. When he remained rooted in place, his expression confused and lost, you steeled yourself and repeated the command with a firmer resolve. "Get out of my house, Simon," you gritted through your teeth, your eyes reflecting the pain and anger that simmered beneath the surface.

His voice, pleading and full of desperation, called your name, "Please, we can talk about this." But you remained unmoved, consumed by a potent cocktail of hurt and betrayal. How could Simon, the one person who knew your brother as well as you did, lack faith in his innocence? Your brother was a beacon of integrity, and you couldn't fathom that he would ever betray his country.

Simon continued, his words slipping into your thoughts like a venomous serpent. "All the evidence-" It was as if a red mist descended upon you, a sudden surge of anger and frustration. In a fit of overwhelming emotion, you grabbed the nearest object, a lamp on your nightstand, and hurled it towards Simon. He reacted with lightning reflexes, narrowly avoiding the projectile, which shattered against the wall where he had been standing just moments before.

"The evidence doesn't matter!" you yelled, your voice filled with raw emotion. "He's innocent, and you know it! Stop lying to yourself!" No amount of evidence could sway your unwavering belief in your brother's goodness. It pained you deeply to see how easily Simon had been influenced, how easily the whole task force had been swayed, by what they had seen or heard, casting doubt on the man you knew your brother to be.

Simon, concerned for your well-being, moved closer and gently restrained your flailing arms, preventing any further outbursts that could lead to harm. "Listen," he implored, his voice earnest, "I'm trying to prove his innocence. It's just that everything I uncover makes him look worse. I can't keep going down this path and risk further damage to his reputation."

"Sounds like it's already been ruined," you retorted bitterly, your gaze filled with a mixture of frustration and contempt as you looked at Simon. The weight of your brother's tarnished reputation hung heavily in the air, a painful reminder of the chasm that had grown between you and the person who had once been one of your closest confidants.

Simon gazed at you with a mix of determination and remorse in his eyes. He nodded solemnly, understanding the depth of your pain and the importance of the task ahead. "I'll do everything in my power to clear his name," he vowed.

With a heavy heart, you replied, "Keep looking. Don't come back until you clear his name. I don't want someone in my house that doesn't believe in him."

Simon nodded once more, silently accepting your terms. He turned and left your room, his resolve renewed to uncover the truth and restore the faith you once had in him.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Running from the Flames {22}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: 18+ only, hurt/comfort - this is a work of fiction and the events are not based on reality. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

It was almost midnight local time when we landed in Montreal and Addie was fast asleep. I thought she was going to stay awake the entire flight the way she was bouncing on her seat with excitement, more than ready to see Pierre again.

For the first time, I was dreading it.

I had been awake for more than 30 hours, and I had spent every second of the flight dissecting every word we had exchanged on the short phone call. 

‘Are you alright?’ 

‘Fine.’ I lied. ‘You?’  

‘Don’t worry about me.’ 

‘I should have told you.’ 

‘We’ll talk about it later.’ The flight attendant had announced that cellphones needed to be turned off and Pierre had sighed. ‘Je t’aime.’ 

When was ‘later’? And what exactly did he want to talk about? My mind ran through all the possible answers to the questions and every scenario seemed to be more daunting than the last until the wheels touched down and my stomach lurched. 

Was the sigh one of sadness or pity or exhaustion? He said he loved me, that was a good sign. At least I hoped. 

I slung my handbag over my shoulder and picked up Addie, her head coming to rest on my shoulder as she remained asleep and I made my way out of the first class cabin. 

It felt like I was sleepwalking, my feet moving on their own accord and not through any conscious thought of my own. I’m surprised I didn’t flag the security as they asked me the standard questions when I showed my passport. 

“No, not here on business,” I replied in a daze.

“Anything to declare?”

I’m emotionally unstable and might just vomit all over your bench. “No, nothing.”

“Enjoy your stay, Miss Vowles.” He stamped the entry permit onto the next free pages of our passports before handing them back and waving me through to the arrivals lounge. 

Our flight had been full and arrived not long after Pierre’s was supposed to land, so there was still a large crowd despite the late hour. The sudden influx of noise stirred Addie and she lifted her head to look around at the families reuniting. Her eyes lingered on a girl a little older than her as she ran away from a woman and into the arms of a man, screaming ‘daddy’ excitedly. 

She had never really asked questions about her father and I wondered now what she was thinking as she stared at the three of them hugging each other tightly. 

Suddenly she started squirming in my arms and I grunted at the shift in weight as she kicked my suitcase from my other hand. I carefully lowered her to the ground before she moved in a way I couldn’t and was dropped but the moment her feet touched the universal grey vinyl flooring she took off.

“Addie!” I cried out as she disappeared into the crown and I rushed to chase her down.

I stumbled to a stop when I broke through the line of people and heard her squeal with joy as she was lifted into the air. 

“I missed you, princesse,” Pierre said with a grin after catching her and holding her tight. He looked up when Addie turned and pointed to me and the smile was lost as he took a slow step forward, concern replacing the joy his face had held. “Mon ange, you look…”

“Like shit?” I offered but he shook his head and opened his free arm instead of reaching for me. He had always been perceptive of me and it showed when he gave me the choice of his embrace, and I think he had a new understanding of why since seeing the interview. 

I stepped into his arms and wrapped mine around him and Addie. 

“You look tired, mon amour,” he murmured as he kissed my forehead. “Beautiful, but tired.”

“It’s been a rough few days,” I admitted as I looked up at him and saw dark bags under his eyes that hadn’t been visible on the many video calls he managed to make time for. “For the both of us.”

“The worst four days of my life,” he whispered before turning to Addie. “Have you been good for mama?”

Addie was frowning as she looked around the airport and it was like she hadn’t even heard Pierre. We followed her gaze and she was staring at the little girl she had seen before. It was only as they turned and left that Addie looked at Pierre, her head tilted to the side as she poked him in the cheek. “Daddy?”

My lips parted but no words came out as I looked at Pierre, his eyes fixed on Addie. I didn’t know what he was thinking as he kissed her forehead and closed his eyes and gently swayed us side to side. 

“You’re going to rock me to sleep, babe,” I said with a yawn as the days finally caught up with me.

Pierre chuckled and let me go so he could take my suitcase for me. “Come on then, love, the driver’s out front waiting for us. Wait, is that my hoodie?”

His eyes trailed over my body properly for the first time and I bit my lip as I gave him a twirl so he could see the GAS 10 print on the back. “You have so many, I figured you wouldn’t notice if one went missing.”

“It looks good on you, really good,” he said with a wink and a charming smile. “It’ll look even better on the floor.”

The shadow of doubt in my mind wasted away and I felt the tightness in my shoulders and back ease as I realised that while things had changed for me, our relationship was still the same. He was still my flirty and funny and sweet Pierre.

“With pick up lines like that it’s hard to believe you were single when we met,” I teased. 

“I must be a masochist because I missed your sass too.”

“English is a difficult language, it’s pronounced ass.”

Addie lifted her head off Pierre's shoulder and pointed at me. “Mama, naughty word.”

“Yes, mama is being very naughty,” Pierre agreed with a smirk on his face that promised I would pay for the comments later in the best way imaginable. 

Addie was asleep by the time we reached the hotel and Pierre carried her up to our suite, tucking her into bed with a kiss on her forehead while I watched the tender moment from the doorway. I could see why she asked if he was her dad. He treated her the same way she observed fathers treating their daughters and I had seen that lightbulb moment at the airport.

I just didn’t know how Pierre felt about it.

“She missed you a lot,” I said softly as he turned out the light and closed the food behind him.

He took my hand and led me away from our bedroom and into the lounge instead. “I missed her too.” I looked back longingly at the bed I could see down the hall and Pierre chuckled at the pout on my lips. “I know you’re tired, love, but we need to talk.”

I stumbled over the edge of the rug and Pierre stabilised me but I couldn’t find my voice to thank him as those thoughts I thought had been banished came rushing back. ‘We need to talk,’ was usually followed by something bad, and I had spent seven hours on a flight imagining every outcome.

“Hey, hey, you zoned out on me,” Pierre soothed as he cupped my cheeks and guided me back to his eyes. “Let’s get you to bed, this can wait until you’ve rested.”

“No,” I rushed, covering his hands with mine to stop him pulling away. “I won’t be able to sleep until I hear what you have to say.” 

He pulled me down on the couch beside him and draped his arm over my shoulders. It should have been cosy but he was upset as he absentmindedly rubbed at his beard and stared at our reflections on the dark tv in front of us. “What you did today, I can’t imagine how hard that was and I hate that I wasn’t there for you.” He turned to look at me with tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry. And I am so fucking proud of you, Bri.”

“What?” I couldn’t have been more stunned at the direction of the conversation and my overthinking had led me down a rabbit hole that couldn’t be further from where Pierre was heading.

“I’m so proud of you, mon amour,” he repeated as he took my limp hand and kissed my knuckles. “I saw how hard it was for you to repeat what happened but you didn’t see the comments that were blowing up. In just a few minutes you changed a lot of people's lives.”

“What do you mean?”

He shifted around so he could pull his phone out from his back pocket and unlocked the device. As soon as I saw his finger going for the Instagram app I started to pull away with a shake of my head. I hadn’t reinstalled the app since reading the cruel comments in Barcelona and I knew I would only be more sensitive to what people had to say about me now. “I’m not ready…”

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, ever. I just want to show you that you’re not alone, that your story helped other people.” His finger hovered over the icon as he gave me a moment to absorb his words. “May I?”

I didn’t trust my voice but I trusted him and gave a small nod. 

His profile picture was ringed to show he had shared a story and he clicked on the image. Immediately I saw dozens of tiny lines across the top of all the pictures that he had shared, the first one showing on the screen. 

Each one told a story similar to mine.

Some stories came from celebrities and the times that reporters invaded their privacy or their friends and family’s privacy. They talked about the harassment that bordered on obsession until they no longer felt safe in their own homes.

But those weren’t the stories that stole the breath from my lungs and brought tears to my eyes. 

It was the one from the unassuming young woman who I could have walked past on campus and never known it. It was the one from the middle aged woman with wisps of grey streaks in her hair. It was the one from a man around Pierre’s age that had the same fluffy hair poking out from under his cap.

They all told me the same thing. They all told me that I was wrong.

I had said I didn’t want the world to know my shame. They told me I had nothing to be ashamed about. They said that what happened to me, and to them, was not a reflection on who we were and the real shame was that we were made to feel like it was our fault. 

I remembered that internalised guilt and blame. I remembered wearing long sleeve shirts in the summer heat to hide the bruises of his grip, but I had stayed out too late with my friends and I should have known better. So I slowly lost touch with those friends, isolating myself further from all the support that could have helped me. 

My vision blurred until I couldn’t see the next story and a sob broke the silent night.

Pierre tossed his phone onto the coffee table and pulled me onto his lap as my hands locked onto the thick fabric of his hoodie. The sobs wracked my body and he held on to me as tightly as I held on to him, letting the feeling of shame wash away with the tears that fell.

“Thank you, Pierre,” I whispered with my cracked and broken voice. 

“I didn’t do anything,” he replied weakly, the disappointment in himself palpable.

I leaned back so I could look him in the eyes as I brushed his hair back. “You stayed, when any sane person would have left.”

“Always,” he promised sincerely before his lip curved up. “Shows how crazy I am for you.”

His smile cracked into a grin when I snorted at the line and rolled my eyes. “You’re a doofus.”

“But you love me.”

“I do, Pierre, I really do.”

“I love you too.” He started to lean in for a kiss but I planted my hand on his chest to stop him. 

“Before you distract me, we need to talk about something else.”

It was his turn to look apprehensive as he leaned back. “Okay…”

“Daddy?”

His eyebrow shot up in question. “You want to call me daddy?”

“Oh god, no, maybe papi chulo,” I wheezed as I clutched my stomach and laughed. “Addie called you daddy.”

His smile returned. “I know.”

“So…you’re okay with that?” 

“I’ve always wanted kids, and I don’t care that she’s not biologically mine, I want to watch her grow up and take her to football training or ballet or whatever she wants to do. I love Addie, and when I think about the future I can’t picture it without you and her in it. So yes, of course I am okay with that, if it’s alright with you.” His eyebrows pinched together as he thought perhaps he had overstepped. “Is it alright with you?”

“Gah, now you’ve done it,” I sniffled. “Bloody happy tears.”

“Happy tears I can handle,” he chuckled as he wiped them away, his thumbs brushing over the dark bags that hung under my eyes. “Let’s get you to bed, mon amour.”

I draped my arms around his neck and curled into him. “I’m too lazy to move, I’ll just sleep right here.”

Pierre’s hands cupped my backside to support my weight as he stood up and I wrapped my legs around his waist with a yawn. I didn’t even feel him lay me in bed. My body and my soul knew it was home in Pierre’s arms and I could finally sink into sleep without my demon’s breathing down my neck. 

He had chased them all away. 

Click here for chapter twenty three.

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts

[celestialspecial]

Vibrantly Hidden

Synopsis: Lydia has been forced to return home to live with her sisters. The well of magick runs deep in her family, despite her best efforts to avoid that aspect of herself. But strange things are afoot in the town of Crystal Falls and in order to figure out these bizarre happenings she must work alongside her enemy from a rival coven-Billy Russo.

Authors Notes: This story has been my passion project as of late and something that I maybe hope to turn into something real and tangible one day. As a special thanks for all your support I want to share it with you first :) The title is still in the works as I explore other options- input is very welcome on it!

Warnings: 18+, Witchcraft and Magick, Some horror elements, graphic descriptions, smut (use your own discernment)

Chapter One: Click your heels together three times

There were few things I’m certain of in life. 

Never conjure when angry or when the moon is waning.

River spirits never forget a bargain spurned.

The Russo Coven couldn’t be trusted.

It was the near end of august, September rode in on the back of a cool breeze and yellow tinged leaves. 

Sipping a slightly-too salty margarita on a wine bar patio, the glass sweating despite the soft breeze. 

While most people were excited about autumn and all the treats the “-Ber months brought I couldn’t help but feel a pit of sadness at the thought of summer ending.

Ignoring reality had been my personal goal for the season and I’d done it so well. Books by the pool, painting sessions on the beach(with all the retired folks), hikes along trails covered in moss and jagged stones.

Sipping cocktails on patios like this, savoring the complex flavors and picking at charcuterie boards with cheeses whos names I butchered while ordering.

I was living the life. But with each passing day I knew I couldn’t ignore it for much longer. 

After budget cuts, my position at the local art museum was no longer “essential”. Having a background in art history left one wanting for jobs in a bad way.

I should be grateful for the job posting my older sister Elizabeth had sent but when I saw it conveniently was at the local college back home I couldn’t conceal the anxiety taking root in my chest.

I’d applied haphazardly, fully anticipating another, “thank you for your interest- we’ve decided to move ahead with other candidates.” 

But when I saw the “we’d love to have you come on board!” Intro line I knew my fate had been sealed. 

I needed this job.

It wouldn’t be so bad living back at home for a little while until another opportunity came along, right? 

My younger sister Emily was ecstatic. It almost broke my heart a little to imagine telling her I didn’t quite feel the same amount of eagerness.

I’d moved away because I wanted to feel free, to see what my life could be outside of the confines of my hometown. Outside of what I was.

I had needed space. Space in the form of multiple hundreds of miles away. 

Most people grow up playing on swing sets and eating peanut butter sandwiches. Growing up in a family of witches, is something entirely different.

When you’re young and impressionable the idea of having powers, knowing there’s more to life than what most others know. It can feel feel empowering. 

To me it was daunting. Exhausting. It’s not all hocus pocus and fun spellbooks or brewing potions.

I didn’t want to be me. I wanted something else.

Something normal.

The Dawson name was well known and revered in the town of Crystal Falls. We’d been here since the town was christened along with a few other families.

There’d been a Dawson Mayor, Head of the newspaper, a few doctors, even a sheriff. 

If only the upstanding community was aware that the Dawson name was a coven. Not just your run of the mill one, but powerful witches, dating back centuries.

The town today had no idea that witches had laid claim to this land so many years ago.

It’s not something one can post on social media. After the debacle in Salem all the smart actual witches branched off. Some migrated to the Midwest, others searched for the west coast. 

The Dawson’s had gone upwards along the east coast, becoming almost nomadic in nature until settling into a small village, close to the ocean but gently tucked into a blanket of forest.

A river cut through town giving a grand display of multiple waterfalls that ended at the nearby beach. 

If you caught one of the large celestial events of comets or a grandiose full moon the river and falls seemed to glimmer and glow, taking on an ethereal hue.

Hence the name- Crystal Falls. 

Our family had helped imbue protective barriers around the town alongside the Russo coven. Another family of warlocks that had also managed to stumble upon this area.

It was beautiful and charged with an uncontained wild nature that must’ve called to our ancestors in some way. And above all else- it was home.

Me and my sisters had been raised by our aunt and grandmother after our parents died when we were young.

It had been labeled an accident. Driving through the mountainous terrain to reach town was dangerous even during the brightest of days.

But there had been signs, too many for our families liking, to chalk it up to merely an accident. There were too many “magickal” elements at play to ignore.

The brand new car losing control, the large tree having conveniently fallen, after the too conspicuous lightning strike and torrential storm appearing on an otherwise clear meteorological prediction.

I tried not to think of it too long, for fear of losing myself in the grief. Too afraid of falling into the whirlpool of those feelings and drowning, never to be seen again.

“Would you like another?” The waitress asked, taking away my now empty margarita glass.

“Yes please, actually do you have anything remaining from the seasonal menu?”

“Sorry, we just finished the last of the summer sangria but we do have our fall menu out! Fig spritzer with sugared thyme and a pumpkin spice bourbon.”

Another nail in the coffin. Summer was over and I needed to face the reality of my impending trip back home. Whether I liked it or not.

Picking some random Chardonnay off the menu in silent rebellion to their fall drinks I feel a tingle in my left pinkie.

I recognize that feeling. It appears when I’m sad. Or stressed. Or angry. Sometimes when I’m happy. 

I’ll be watching a Netflix show and laughing so hard on my sofa and then I feel the tingling sensation in my fingertips. 

Like dipping my fingers into super icy water then immediately into hot boiling water. I catch it and breathe into the feeling.

Willing it to stop. 

Some tries take longer than others. Over the years I’ve managed to muffle that part of me that yearns to escape.

A rabid dog locked in a basement waiting for the caretaker to get sloppy, lazy. Bursting past the seam of the door and bounding freely into the night.

Not today. One day perhaps. I shudder thinking about it. Or maybe it’s just the breeze, goose bumps break out along my arms and chest.

Eventually after some practiced breathing I feel the tiny reverberations cease. Returning from whence they came.

Boy how I am not looking forward to going home.

The drive back home was a scenic four hour trek through mountains and forestry that could make any camper or hiking enthusiast’s mouth water. 

I’d lost count over the years how many scenic overlooks dotted the area and if there was a drinking game involving shots every time a quaint picturesque New England type village popped up on google maps one would quickly die of alcohol poisoning.

“What do you want for dinner?” Elizabeth’s text pinged on my phone that was propped on the dash hastily.

“So excited!!!!” Emily responded not two seconds later. The age dynamics were far too apparent.

I couldn’t help but grin, I loved my sisters I really do, but it’s been so long since I’d lived with them. 

Elizabeth came into her magic first- understandably so, being the oldest. Grandma was so proud, seeing Lizzy carry on the Dawson legacy.

“Easy Em” 

“Sorry! Sorry! Drive safe!”

I rolled my eyes, chuckling a little as I turned onto another mountain path. This added time to my trip but I just …couldn’t bring myself to take the other route. Not yet.

After another hour or so of driving I finally saw the sign for Crystal Falls, keep right for 30 miles. 

A crusted slab of wood with paint peeling off of it. Emerald green and white swirls of paint beckoning any passerby to stop.

It didn’t pass my notice that a handful of trees had leaves tinged in orange, a few scattered red bursts.

Traitors.

It would be beautiful. The kiss of death to summer and its green tinged warmth. I’d even miss the bugs.

Turning down the Main Street there was a constant stream of activity. People walking in and out of shops, visitors milling around the welcome center, campers clearly here for the upcoming fall foliage unfurling comically large maps of the cave systems.

There was a gazebo at the town center, a la Gilmore girls Stars Hollow that was always decorated according to season. 

I said a silent prayer of thanks seeing the sunflowers still adorning it and not hay bales and pumpkins.

Festive mums sat in fat glazed pots in front of the stores. I rolled my windows down to inhale the smell of home.

Wondering if it’d smell like how I remembered. Fresh flowers, sweet honeysuckle and that tell tale pinch of chill.

Tree branches swayed overhead with the seasonal breeze. Yellowed leaves broke off of a nearby oak and scattered into the street. 

I watched as a gaggle of school girls walked over them, crunching them into the pavement without a thought.

Turning off the main causeway and into the more scenic countryside where a few vineyards with their adjoining wineries sat.

Moon Brew Farm with their delicious peach wine. Cats Tail Vineyard that created a bubbly moscato with hints of fresh blackberry. 

I could feel my mouth water just imagining it, that full mouth feel. Fizzing bubbles popping on my tongue and chasing it with a panini whose sides runneth over in pale cheese.

My stomach gurgled, begging for food. I had only stopped at a Wendy’s on the way since the McDonald’s drive through had a line longer than I cared to sit in.

The remnants of a devoured chicken sandwich rested on my center console. The paper still flecked with grease and a loose pickle that somehow managed to escape my mouth.

I passed a large estate off to the left. A high arched gate cutting the drive off at the main road. The stone pillar at the end read, “Russo.” Engraved into a black marble plaque. 

I drove by, right hand on the wheel, left out the window in an honorary “one finger salute ” at the disgusting excuse for a castle marring our town.

Dirt billowed behind my rickety Subaru as I finally ambled onto a gravel driveway. The popping sound of rocks being shot out from underneath my tires like rapid shrapnel alerted the ladies inside. 

“Lydia!” Emily was the first to run out, screen door slamming shut into Elizabeth’s face as she jumped the porch steps completely.

Lizzy scowled, pushing the screen door out of her way like it owed her money.

“Em, what the hell?” 

I tossed my car in park just in time to see Emily’s grinning face and fists tapping at my window like a madwoman. 

“Can you give me like a second?” I managed a laugh, popping the door open only to be tackled in a rib cage smushing embrace.

“I missed you! So-o-o-o-o much!” Each ‘o’ was accompanied by a sway of our bodies back and forth. 

Elizabeth finally reached us, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. 

“Bet you missed this.” She joked, gesturing to Emily who had wedged her face into my shoulder.

“Shuff-Upf” came Emily’s muffled response as she refused to let go. Maybe she was afraid I’d disintegrate, that I was some clever illusion instead of actually being here in the flesh.

“Missed you-“ I gave a genuine, albeit weary smile to my older sister, somehow untangling a limb to motion her into the bear hug going on.

“So glad to see you.” She relented, easing into the sister shuffle.

It felt nice. I hadn’t stopped so much to reminisce on these things when I was away. I did miss them. I did miss home. I just didn’t miss what home had meant to me for so long.

Eventually Emily peeled herself off of me and dragged me into the house, not pausing even when I nearly tripped on the porch steps.

“Luggage can wait for later!” She had stated. Dinner was ready and honestly I just wanted to unwind and zone out into a pile of amazing food.

Elizabeth and Emily got the cooking gene from our mother. I got my fathers gene of enjoying said cooking.

Chicken pot pie with a flaky crust, yams coated in golden butter, green beans sautéed with almonds and pepper and a peach cobbler with succulent fruit from the local farmers market.

“I still can’t believe you’re home and not just for a vacation but like, for good.” Emily twisted her fork into the leftover cobbler morsels, licking a crumb from her thumb.

“Not for good, just…for now.”

Elizabeth nodded sagely, catching my hesitation and being kind enough to change the subject. 

“How was the drive?”

“Not bad.” I spooned a piece of chicken coated in sauce onto my plate as Elizabeth took another bite of green beans. “I see tons of campers are already here. Don’t they know it’ll be weeks until fall foliage actually appears?”

“The mayor has been trying to push for more summer into fall events to draw in the crowds.” 

“Yeah Elizabeth’s boyfriend has really been overhauling the event planning thing.”

“He is NOT my boyfriend.” Her cheeks turned almost as red as her hair. “It’s about time we had a member of the council actually give a shit about our town and its livelihood.”

Emily dramatically sighed, bringing the back of her hand to her forehead and fluttered her eyelashes. “Yes whatever would we do without dear Sebastyan.”

“The crab?” I smirked, reaching my fork towards another yam. Lizzy pulled the plate away giving me that older sister, raised eyebrow look. It spelled out “watch it” clear enough for me to relent.

“Don’t you start with me.”  

Dinner wraps up with each of us carrying a Handful of dirty dishes into the kitchen. Piled high into the sink with an unspoken agreement to get to them tomorrow.

I watch the two of them joke and share inside info about their planned week ahead. Things I’d know if I lived here. Schedules that would make sense to me but are now new and unknown.

The two of them continue their conversation as I teeter my messy plate on top of an empty glass that once contained a milkshake. It feels weird to hear their voices in person again. The last time I was home was maybe two years ago? For Christmas?

Elizabeth is just as elegant as I remember. Tall, long red hair swept up into a modest pony tail. Barely a smudge of makeup on her but soft pale skin with a dash of freckles across her high cheekbones.

I remember standing on my tippy toes when we were little, getting measured against the doorframe, hoping and praying I’d grow as tall as my older sister.

Fate didn’t pay attention to my pleas. My body threw in the towel the minute I struck 5’3”. Cruel, if I’m being honest. She whisks about the kitchen making a funny face at something Emily said.

It feels like I’m in a fishbowl, hearing noises, knowing someone is speaking but it just sounds muffled and foreign to me. Like I’m not really here.

Emily makes another comment that pulls a laugh from Elizabeth. Emily has always been a lightning bolt. Even when she was a child. Her hair is cut into a blunt bob with thick heavy bangs. It’s dyed a dark brown that almost matches her hot chocolate colored eyes. 

She’s maybe an inch shorter than me, a rarity in our family that the oldest sibling is actually the tallest. My younger sister however has a face full of makeup. It never looks to be too much, always tastefully done and complimenting her features.

They’ve changed so much and not at all from when I last saw them. From the pictures I’d had hanging in my apartment that now sit in a storage facility. 

I feel the bubbling tightness in my chest and I’m yanked from my misty eyed staring. Being around them, their energy, I can feel parts of me clawing to get out. Like taking a spray bottle to a pesky cat, I shove it down.

Emily turned in first, working at a bakery requires her to be up before the sun. She gives me a quick hug once more.

“I really am excited you’re home…for however long.”  Before starting up the stairs, sounds of the shower turning on and soft lilting singing to some show tune carries throughout the halls.

“Wine?” Elizabeth holds a glass up with a bottle of cherry wine, the deep scarlet liquid looks intoxicating. 

“Please.”

We retreat to the porch as the last rays of sunset disappear behind the trees leaving that unsettling light blue that comes before navy then black.

The old rocking chairs groan as we take our seats. The sound the cork popping makes echoes throughout the woods surrounding the house. 

I never forgot how quiet it gets. The crickets had just started their nightly serenade and a few owl hoots call out from a distance. 

She pours me a hefty glass of the wine, handing it to me as we both delicately lean forward in our rickety chairs, balancing bottle and glasses.

Dozens of long shadows climb out from all around us. Reaching towards the front steps and skittering along the warped floorboards.

If I close my eyes it feels like I can even hear them calling out to me. Where have you been? Why have you been gone so long?

Every leaf, branch, blade of grass blending together to create large charcoal swaths against the forest floor. It both chills and excites me. 

“It is nice, ya know? To have you home for more than four days at a time.”

I feel myself shaken from my stupor. Mind slowly drifting back to where it’s supposed to be in the present. On the porch. With my sister. 

For the first time in years.

“You say that now since I’ve only been here for a few hours.” I take a long sip of the wine and let the fruity flavors dance on my tongue. 

“I’m serious.” I hear her rocker stop creaking, her eyes focused on me. Like burning sapphires. I’d always been jealous of her eyes. “I think this…this will be good for all of us.” 

I watch her take a drink before continuing, “We have a lot to catch up on.”

I ponder in silence, running my fingertip along the wine glass’ lip. For a little there’s only the sound of our rockers moving back and forth. 

Occasionally I’ll hear the sounds of Emily getting ready for bed upstairs. A single car drives past on the road, far enough we can’t make it out save for the headlights.

The vibrant ripples of yellow cutting through the trees then fading into the distance. The trees gobble up the remaining light.

“How’s work been?” 

Elizabeth smiles, pouring a little more wine into her cup. I notice as she sips deeply, letting her eyelids drift shut, pondering how to respond.

“It’s been good. I travel a little for work more now than usual but it’s ok. Rewarding.” 

“I couldn’t do it. Be a midwife.” She nodded thoughtfully at my comment, staring off into the ever darkening tree line.

The moon is out, but I watch as it quickly becomes obscured by passing clouds. 

“It can be tough, but I have this gift. It feels selfish to not use it. At least in a way that brings purpose to my life.” 

I found myself nodding and staring off as well. Elizabeth is a healer, ever since she was little she had a knack for it. Never getting colds, being able to concoct awful tasting potions that somehow worked and cured a multitude of things.

Every witch can do basic magic but more often than not, there’s a specialty. A gift that is unique to that person. 

Some people get lucky with theirs. Others not so much.

“You can go on the road with it. Really explore your options.” 

“I do have over a hundred 5 star yelp reviews.” She grinned toasting her glass to the air.

“Elizabeth Dawson-“ I held my hand in front of me, punctuating gestures as if reading a headline, “Midwife To The Stars!” 

We both giggled and took another sip after sloppily ‘cheers-ing’. 

“Ahhhh I don’t know if California or New York is for me.” She chuckled, twisting a strand of her dark red hair held by her ponytail. 

I settle back into my seat, rocking back and forth, pushing with my heels and feeling the entirety of my foot flatten then pitch back.

“Soooo Sebastyan?” 

“Don’t start with me already.” Liz smirked at me, dipping her fingers in the wine glass and flicking a few drops in my direction.

Maybe this was ok. Maybe this would be ok.

How silly and naïve I was.

After half an hour of sitting on the porch and enjoying the entire bottle of wine, the sky had fully morphed from navy to inky black. The local owl continued to hoot, a rhythmic sound that I could feel myself drifting off too.

Elizabeth had already placed her glass on the counter by the sink, turning in for the night. Flipping the porch light off and only on occasion would the motion sensor light by the back door turn on.

Squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons maybe even a coyote or two always liked to wander up by the back door and sniff around our trash bins. I sat up reading in the living room a while longer, not quite ready to face my old room.

Instead choosing to inspect the first floor, wondering what new things I could pick out from the décor. A small painting of Emily’s rabbit, Artimus that was clearly done on a wine and paint night.

Large bookshelves lined the backwall surrounding the TV, so many books from Elizabeth’s studies, health magazines spread along the coffee table.

A wreath with some greenery bearing white berries and red bow, a few old coffee tins and tea containers holding either flowers or some assortment of pens and paintbrushes.

So much was the same and yet I still felt like an outsider.

Surrendering to the reality I did need to go to bed I gathered my phone, book and flicked off the last of the remaining lamps to ascend the stairs.

Our gallery wall floated along the steps. Photos of almost every generation of our family lay plastered against the drywall that desperately needed repainted.

Our parents wedding day, their smiling faces. Moms bright blue eyes and Dads goofy grin in his tuxedo which was so chic in the eighties. Then came photos of Grandma and Aunt Cora.

I quickly shuffled past them. I had weeks, no, months, to look at these and let the waves of guilt wash over me. Not tonight. Not before bed anyways.

Padding across the plush carpet to my bedroom, the door ajar and bedside lamp on. No doubt from Elizabeth. It didn’t escape my notice the bundle of lavender and dill laid on my pillowcase.

For protection. I hold the small bundle in my lap a moment, searching my mind for the exact spells its used for. My grandmother would have a fit if she knew it was taking me this long.

What can I say? I’ve been living life as a normal human for the past ten years to the best of my ability. Ignoring anything magickal or otherwise. I’d even avoided palm readers at the local county fairs I’d gone to.

I wanted little to nothing to do with magick. Regardless of how deep it ran in our family. I lay the bundle down on the end table right next to my phone.

Please protect me from bad dating app messages.

A stack of clean towels and beauty products rested on the toilet seat in the bathroom. I pulled my hair back into a low bun, splashing water onto my face and rubbing some milky cleanser that I knew had to be Emily’s onto my skin.

It smelled fragrant, like lemons and a sweet sugary after scent. Glancing up to survey the damage from the long day on my face, expecting to see dark circles, dull dry skin, but instead I looked fine. I looked normal.

Turning the cleanser over in my hands wondering if it had some “extra” properties in it that I wasn’t aware of but my younger glamorous sister did. I couldn’t see anything outside the ordinary.

I didn’t sense anything off.

Shrugging and placing it back on the counter, before returning back to my bedroom. Allowing myself to fall heavily against the mattress, a comical ‘huff’ escaping my lips. This was it. I was here.

For however long I needed to be. My fingertips ran up along the hem of the quit on my bed. Feeling the bumps of stitches along the pads of my fingers, the different textured fabrics. My eyes felt heavy.

Sleep called to me, sweet and deep. The edges of my vision blurred and darkened. With the last of my remaining alertness I turned the lamp off. I felt that deep heaviness fall over me.

In the far-off distance I could hear the owl once more. Then it was truly silent.

The back-sensor light came on. I whined as my room was immediately filled with a bright fluorescent light.

“What the hell...” I rubbed at my eyes, still not adjusted to such a bright searing light all of a sudden. Then I heard something knock against the garage. It didn’t sound like a skunk, or a raccoon.

Unless it was a huge raccoon.

Doubtful.

Pushing off of the bed I crouched down, making my way to the window. The curtains were sheer and the blinds were up. Peering around the side I craned my neck to see what was out there.

It was quiet. So startlingly quiet. No fauna chirping or calling out into an otherwise peaceful night.

The light was still on, but there was nothing in the yard. No animals, no creeps. Nothing.

I felt the hair on the back of my neck perk up. A green spark tickled the end of my fingertips and I didn’t even attempt to shove it away. My body knew there was something out there.

We’re so used to being the predator, never the prey. My eyes continued to scan back and forth, wondering if I needed to let one of my sisters know something was up.

Maybe this was normal? Did the light just randomly turn on from time to time? Ya know- technology? So efficient.

If that was the case why did I feel so…off? Something, isn’t right. Then I see it.

A flicker so fast that I’m half certain my mind made it up. Back in the tree line by the back of the garage, a different kind of darkness.

Not the shadows I had seen earlier from the trees on the porch. This is more opaque. It seems to undulate as it moves along the back of the yard. It doesn’t glide but rather jerks.

I feel my heart begin to race.

Its pace is slow, unseemly. Shadow against shadow and yet I can see it clear as day. Blackness that swallows the night whole. It’s form shivers and writhes against a large oak.

I must be dreaming. Yes. I’d fallen asleep and now I am dreaming something up that isn’t there. What a funny story I’ll have to tell my sisters in the morning.

But to be sure…

I grab my phone, sliding my finger across the screen to bring up the camera, pointing it out the back window. Somehow in the few moments it took me to grab my phone its gone.

The shadow isn’t where I last saw it. I am dreaming. I set my phone back down and then I see it.  Or rather, it sees me.

It sees me, seeing it. And my body goes rigid.

Black malformed nothingness creeping along the garage and staring at me. Its featureless, save for cold pinpricks of red where eyes should be.

Red and beady, almost like light reflecting against an animals eyes.

It glows, but maybe anything would look glow-y against such a stark backdrop. The blood in my body runs like ice. The goose bumps have moved to my arms as well.

I don’t know how long we stare at each other. Maybe three seconds, maybe five minutes. I blink for the first time in I don’t know how long and when I stare back its gone.

Really gone this time.

I must have scanned the backyard and the fence and the woods and the garage multiple times for over ten minutes. I see nothing. My head feels fuzzy. Like I’d taken a large sleeping pill and have been fighting the effects for too long.

I hoist myself back into bed, because I am too afraid to go out there and check. Too tired to wake my sisters. It feels like my limbs have been replaced with sacks of flour.

Heavy, soft, the weight bringing me down. Pushing me against the mattress. I’m exhausted and alert and my body doesn’t know which to indulge more.

Eventually sleep wins and I drift off into a fitful night filled with dreams of sharp shadows following me. And one with red eyes leading the chase.

[muthaz-rapapa]

Otona Precure '23: The Sequel We ACTUALLY Deserve

Let's not mince words.

Otona Precure wasn't just fantastic, it puts every reboot or sequel of an established series to shame.

Because yea, it's primarily aimed at an older audience alright but the issues and the themes discussed in the story are relatable and relevant to everyone's interests, regardless of age.

That reality is much harsher than we think it is, more than we can comprehend. That the world will never be perfect like we want it to be.

But also that, because we're on this planet right now at this very moment, we can't just sit around and resign ourselves to not do anything as situations continue to worsen.

Pollution, climate change, toxic society, war.

The show did not shy away from addressing these topics but what's even more notable is it pointing out that people, humans, are the source of them all.

And I appreciate the honesty of that statement because yes, frankly, we are the problem.

People are selfish. We indulge too much in ourselves, our own egos, that we are blinded to the welfare of others. We are also lazy and discriminating and even those who say we'd like things to be better often give up too easily because searching for a solution is too hard and daunting.

Mankind is the shittiest species to walk upon this earth and no one's gonna argue on that.

But does that make everyone inherently bad though?

No, of course not.

We're flawed beings but we're also capable of learning. We're capable of understanding and compassion. There are many among us who do try our best to make this world a kinder and more beautiful place to live in.

But as the finale shows, it cannot only be these few people (like Precure) to do all the hauling and pushing. Everybody has to pitch in. Everybody has to contribute for a better world to be possible.

And that doesn't mean tackling a conflict that's a lot bigger than you can handle. That doesn't mean you have to go at it all alone.

It means that you have to change the way you are, change the way you do things to get the ball rolling. Only by changing yourself first that you can begin to change your surroundings, not the other way around.

It's only through the collective effort of everyone wanting to change for the better that we can protect what we love and create the future that we envision.

Precure is meant to inspire that will to act which is best exemplified in Nozomi. Cure Dream, the Precure of Hope.

Nozomi stands out among the many lead Cures we've had over the years in the quality of leadership she displays as the head of her own team.

She is not the brightest nor sharpest person in any group but damn, does that girl woman never give up.

Not even when she pushes herself to the brink that she falls unconscious from fatigue several times did she ever consider the thought of giving up.

And that's exactly what makes her such a strong and effective leader.

It's not because she's been put into that position so she's only functioning as one.

It's because she inspires everyone around her to become the leaders of their own lives which would then repeatedly bring about the butterfly effect in people beyond their own circle.

Additionally, we must applaud at how well the themes of adulthood and personal struggle have been explored. Look at the girls! Look at how much they've grown, how much they've progressed from the time they were still just middle schoolers dreaming of what they want to be in the future.

(GODDAMNIT, MILK BECAME THE PRIME MINISTER OF HER HOME COUNTRY, I'M STILL NOT OVER THAT AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!)

They've accomplished so much and you can't help but be incredibly proud of how far they've come on their individual journeys.

But now that they're adults, they also realize just how difficult it is to keep the optimism they had when they were kids. Things don't always go the way you want them to. Real life is stressful and exhausting and the accumulation of all those negative feelings of helplessness is enough to send anyone into depression.

As an adult, you're constantly asking yourself "is it really worth it?" because you don't want to betray the hopes you had as a child but sometimes, it's just too hard that all you want to do is give up.

...and that's okay if you need to for a while.

Take a break, go talk to someone you can trust if you feel you've really hit rock bottom.

Find a secure, safe space to cry it all out if you have to.

It's okay to not be okay all the time.

Because that's pretty much what adulthood is.

Being an adult is not about doing everything but knowing you can't do everything and telling yourself that's okay. Because you're already doing everything you can. Your best is good enough.

It's good enough for one person. Nobody's asking you to save the world or become a magical girl to fight off monsters or resolve a major crisis with a miracle answer.

You just need to do your part of the whole in the best way you can. That's all.

And I believe Bell knows that as well.

She knows that just because today's worst was averted, it doesn't mean we're out of the doom radar yet. Because she's right. Humans still can't be trusted as proven by that after-credits scene. There are still plenty of jerks out there who don't give a damn about how much harm they're adding to the world.

But she also knows that as long as there is someone like Precure to do their part, to yell at those jerks to pick up their trash, then maybe, maybe, not all hope is lost just yet.

And so she leaves with the words "I'll be waiting for you in the future", hoping that what the Cures have taught her to believe won't betray her when that time comes.

That said, for us longtime fans of the series, Otona Precure is also a love letter.

A project of appreciation to us for the past 20 years of love and support we've given this franchise.

And I'd say we got what we wanted because before the announcement of this spin-off, I didn't think Toei would ever care to redeem Yes! 5 Precure on how badly it performed during its two seasons run.

Yet here we are and even 100 times better than the original.

They cut out all the fillers which was the primary flaw of those two seasons and focused entirely on the characters. The girls and the expansion of their story arcs. The stuff we actually want to see.

Moreover, the writers did a very great job of showing how everyone has matured. For example, Rin and Karen outgrew their bickering and even the uncalled for vitriol that Kurumi always directed at Nozomi is nowhere to be found.

Seriously! I laughed so hard when Kurumi switched the target of her criticism from Nozomi to Coco. I don't think we've ever seen her this concerned and sympathetic towards Nozomi to the point that she didn't even hesitate to yell at her superior to "cut it with your responsibilities crap and go comfort your lonely girlfriend, you idiot king!"

🤣🤣🤣🤣

Everyone is just incredibly supportive of each other and that's so heartwarming.

I also personally loved how they dealt with Komachi's episode, which introduced a sort of sub-theme of one's love for their hometown.

Komachi has always aspired to become a writer and it would've been fine to go down the route of getting her out of her slump.

But having Komachi put in effort for her community, learn about the history of her town, and becoming determined to defend it after her strengthened appreciation fit with the overarching theme and her personality so much better.

The inclusion of Splash Star into this story was awesome, too.

If I can be honest, I don't think Saki and Mai would've done as well as Otona Precure if they had 12 episodes only to themselves (including Michiru and Kaoru, btw). So by giving them a fair amount of screentime next to the Yes!5 girls, the show just felt more complete with their conclusions.

They're still chasing their respective dreams, had their relationship troubles (and Saki got engaged to her boyfriend/fiance who seems like a very good guy judging by how he's supportive of her going to Luxembourg, ugh so happy for her!) and career doubts but are still as close as ever which allowed them to pull through in the end.

Wonderful.

Finally, let's all agree that no anniversary season is complete unless proper spotlight is given to the dai-senpai Precure, FutariWa.

Maybe that's why 10th anniversary was such a dud?

They didn't get as much screentime as they did during the 15th anniversary (which included two episodes in Hugtto and sharing the main lead role with Hana/Cure Yell in the All Stars movie) but they still made a grand entrance in the penultimate ep of Otona Precure and kicked absolute ass in the finale and that's really all that matters.

So good job, Toei!

And ok, finally finally, NozoCoco officially got 💖MARRIED💖

Romance is not a vital aspect of Precure nor does it ever have to be because focusing on friendship and teamwork is still the most important aspect when it comes to this series...

But only a stupid numbskull would say Coco is unnecessary to Nozomi's happiness because he's the biggest reason she was able to become who she is today. The fact that she even tells him, right after she woke up from her coma, that she needs him to truly be happy is a proof of how irreplaceable he is to her.

She doesn't ask him to be with her because she needs a man. She wants him to marry her because he brings out the best in her. Because he is the one person who can understand her better than anyone else can and the one person whom she wants to share the rest of her life with.

Remember that Nozomi was inspired by Coco. She became Precure, became Cure Dream, because she met him. She aspired to become a teacher because of him. The butterfly effect for her began with him.

For them to overcome all these obstacles to their relationship and promise to be there for one another, through all the good and bad...it's the fulfillment of a dream they both deserve.

And the perfect ending to Yes! 5 Precure.

So congratulations to Yes!5 and Splash Star on an amazing sequel.

Congratulations to Precure for these precious 20 years you've given us.

Here's hoping to more successful years ahead.

See you in the new year!

[bamdelune]

In Hindsight 📹 Ch. 02 : "Room 613"

notes. this chapter will mostly be text-based & will try to ease the plot better so excuse the length! I'll be putting a line break after the first few to consider the scroll time on tumblr <3 the social media portion of this chapter is below the 19th block of text if you're curious,

cw! mention of nosebleeds (once)

After the day you were admitted into the hospital, the rest of the week was dedicated to thorough laboratory tests and consultations. Care of Dr. Baizhu, of course.

Dr. Baizhu has been your physician ever since you were in elementary school. Before you checked in, you had called him about unusual pains and abnormalities you noticed with yourself. You suffered from additional headaches that were severe to a level and nosebleeds seemed to happen more often. He in turn advised you to come to the hospital to get it checked. The process was daunting and exhausting but you finished, falling face-first onto the soft cushions of the ward's bed.

Saturday, you woke up early to meet with your production team to discuss your upcoming album—though it happened online since the nurses specifically told you that coming outside in this state wasn't exactly the best course of action.

The meeting went by after about 45 minutes. The mood sampler ABYSS Entertainment posted a week ago was merely something to keep your fans from suspecting anything, mainly how you haven't actually made any progress on the album. But the meeting bore fruit, much to your joy. "Pieces of Love" would be taking on a dreamy, floaty, ethereal theme which was a complete contrast to the mood sampler video's gloomy one. The album would have twelve tracks and as always, you took the responsibility of writing and producing the majority of each song with a little help from your team. This process provided you a certain peace whenever it happened and you were more than glad you have the chance to do it now.

The sound of knocking resonated within the walls of your room before the sliding door shuffled open to reveal Dr. Baizhu and a young man and a nurse following suit. Your mind questions the stranger but your attention comes back to the doctor.

"Y/N, good morning. I see that you're up early." Baizhu greets with a gentle smile you had long grown familiar with.

You stuff your laptop and writing notebook into the depths of one of your bags before placing it down on the floor beside your bed. You sit down on the edge, and face Baizhu. "Oh, yes. I had to meet up with the production team today." You reply, mirroring his smile.

The nurse shuffles forward to take your vitals, just as she had for the past week. Dr. Baizhu then continues to converse with you, the young man that followed him in here still behind him. standing silently. "I take it you're coming out with a new song?"

"Full album now, actually." You smile at the thought of the achievement. It was one of your goals to release a full album and now that was in the making. You notice the stranger shift as if he wanted to say something but he remained silent.

Baizhu notices the direction in which you were peering at and chuckles. "Ah, right. Forgive me, it seems that I forgot to do some introductions."

"Y/N, this is Kunikuzushi. He's a— well, honorary intern here at the hospital. In reality, he's in his fourth year of college just like you are. And Kunikuzushi, this is Y/N. I'm not sure if you've heard of them but I believe they also attend the same university as you do."

Your lips form a small 'o.'

Honorary... intern? This kid must've done some talented things for him to intern this early. Doesn't internship come later?

"I've heard of them before, doctor. They've made quite a noise in the music industry." Kunikuzushi replies curtly. You couldn't blame him, perhaps he was just the awkward one.

"Well, I suppose that makes this easier then," Baizhu pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose. "Kunikuzushi here will be coming along with me to grasp the concept of working at a hospital so I hope this doesn't pose as a problem for you, dear?"

"Not at all, doctor." You reply with understanding.

"Thank you. Well, I believe your vitals are okay as of the moment so I'll leave you alone now. Please do make sure to rest, Y/N." The green-haired physician advises you as he leaves through the door with the other two. "Call the staff if you need anything, yes?"

You only nod in response before waving him off, welcoming back the silence of the room when the doors slides closed.

You take this as a chance to flop back down onto the comfort of the mattress, throwing your head back onto the pillows as you stare at the white crowned ceiling. Just then, a vibration shakes the wood of the side table.

For the second time this morning, the sliding door hisses open going to the left of the wall. Your best friends shuffle inside your room holding some paper bags and Lumine seemed to be holding a small box tied with a white ribbon.

"You know it's scary how easily we got into your room." Aether blurts out, setting one of his shares of paper bags on one of the two free chairs in the corner. The other two shuffle around to take the contents of their bags out and on to the small coffee table between the chairs.

You breathe a sigh when you kick your feet off the edge of the bed and onto the cool floor, "I told them to watch out for three sleep-deprived college kids today." Aether shoots you a frown while Xinyan then comes closer to you with an open box of snacks, holding one of them in between her fingers and you open your mouth to pop it in. You munch on it slowly as a slightly sour but sweet stream of flavor explodes in your mouth.

"Strawberries?" You ask in between chews, Xinyan nods with a smile.

"You said you were craving them so I bought some from Xiangling from the culinary department. She was trying to offer me some more items but they looked... er, you get it."

You nod in acknowledgement of her words, quietly watching the twins settle down.

"What's the box for?"

Lumine looks in your direction before her face lights up in realization, grabbing the small box from earlier and digging for three envelopes from her sling bag. "Letters. We were originally planning to send only three from each of us but apparently, some of the professors and people on campus had the same idea."

She hands the two items to you and you turn them slightly to examine them. Your hands shake the box to hear a few solid knocks on the cardboard. "Seems 'some' isn't the right word," you laugh, slightly taken aback by the sound of the amount of messages inside.

The rest of the hour and a half that your group spends in your room, they managed to feed you just a little bit of the food you missed. Truth be told, you were kind of getting sick of the hospital food again. Xinyan explains the gist of your current lessons and offers to lend you her notes. Aether suggests that all four of you could binge watch something until their visitation time is over.

You opted to read the messages in the box after your friends left. It was sunset by the time they did and you were just getting tired from the talking you did.

The only light in the room came from outside the sliding door which led to the floor's front desk, and the warm lighting of the drop-down ceiling when you started going through the letters in the container. Most of them were just your professors and classmates wishing you well and good health, congratulating you on the process of making your album, and whatnot. You saved the three's letters for last, figuring that it must've been special and lengthy just by how much paper they used.

Frankly, your friends' messages were the ones responsible for breaking the dam of tears as you read along. As you dry the salty remnants from your face, you take out your notebook dedicated for songwriting and use the night to begin writing one of your b-sides.

synopsis. You are a singer-songwriter. Music has always been a part of you, it's a part of your identity that no one can ever take away. However, there's always a catch: you are diagnosed with a chronic illness that puts your life on a timer. Those who have heard your countless melodies have grown to notice that the notes on the sheet played a gloomier tune. Would the snarky and capable medical student you've met be able to bring life back into these melodies? Even as life begins to seep out of your own body? (scaramouche x gn!reader)

tags. gender-neutral reader, angst, fluff, crack, heavy contexts of death and illnesses, friends to lovers, slowburn, profanities, drinking (characters are in college), suggestive themes but no nsfw.

taglist. (open, reply or send an ask to be added/removed) — @beriiov @alatusorrow @br0oke96 @ohmyfinggod @itzblazekun @featuredtofu @sketcheeee

masterpost ★ masterlist © bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

[takeyourcyanide]

Anguish

- Soul Eater

Notes: This has yet to be proofread. I have made references to age regression in a past fic, but I never actually wrote it. I decided to go more in depth with age regression in this fic.

Summary: Stein’s paranoia continues to bubble up until he can no longer take it.

Word count: 5 578

……

Paranoia followed Stein like his own creeping shadow, stalking him and subtly blatant in the sunlight. It sat within the recesses of his mind, never leaving him no matter how many times he attempted to soothe himself. It lurked and lingered, attacking him when he needed it the least. It was the backbone of every interaction he had with others, every word, everything. No logic or reason could ever fully diminish it.

It was a force more powerful than himself. It was himself. And he was so incredibly exhausted. He was so incredibly tired of always having one foot in everyone else’s reality, and another foot in his own. And he was tired of being forced to pretend that he didn’t.

He often wondered if it would’ve just been easier if he was one of those people without even a semblance of coherence remaining. There’d be no more battling with himself.

……

The bathroom mirror stood to taunt Stein, as did the room he scanned. The walls and the corners and the mirror itself felt almost as daunting and oddly intimidating as the menial task of showering - of which he needed to tackle. Stein was not the type to feel intimidated. Not by any person, not by anything. But after seemingly catching the floors beneath him breath from a certain angle, he felt suspicious.

The sound of Spirit wandering about in the kitchen, shutting cabinets obnoxiously loudly as he, presumably, searched for a small snack before school, startled Stein from his stupor, as a sense of dread washed over him. He was much too exhausted to deal with the chore of human interaction. He just wanted to be alone.

Stein turned back to the mirror, not missing the figure he’d seen from his peripheral vision. He, then, proceeded to glance at the shower curtain, a sigh shaking his frame. Every time he even so much as lived, he felt a presence following him, stalking him - including in the shower. He despised having to continuously turn around to check behind himself whilst simply trying to finish cleaning and rinsing his hair.

He begrudgingly trudged up to the curtain, yanking it open, half-expecting a person to be standing behind it, awaiting his arrival. He turned the handle of the faucet, sticking his hand underneath the flowing water. Once it had reached a satisfactory enough temperature, he turned on the shower, ridding himself of his comfortable clothes, and jumping in.

……

With wet hair and his clean, everyday clothes on, he opened the door, stepping out into the corridor, preparing himself for what awaited him.

“Morning, Stein,” Spirit shouted out, toast in hand, as he walked toward Stein. “You took longer than usual. Hurry up and dry your hair, I don’t wanna be late.”

Stein shot him an annoyed glare, moving to enter Spirit’s bedroom, as that’s where the blowdryer was located, along with a rectangular, hanging mirror. Spirit could be awfully vain at times, especially when it came to his precious hair.

He flipped the light-switch, grabbed the blowdryer, and grimaced at the noise it made as he dried his damp hair.

“Hey, you should really start putting heat protectant in your hair before doing that,” Spirit scolded for the thousandth time.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Stein shrugged his tired shoulders, continuing to make rounds around his head with the aforementioned blowdryer.

“It should!” Spirit playfully exclaimed. “How do you think I got these luscious locks,” he flipped his hair jokingly, smirking.

Stein rolled his eyes, a halfhearted chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head.

“Yeah, that’s why you get all the girls, huh?” Stein snickered.

“You laugh, but it most certainly is. And my irresistible charm and amazing looks,” he teasingly replied, lifting his pointer finger as though he was making a thoughtful point.

“Sure,” Stein sarcastically said.

……

The fluorescent lighting decorating the DWMA’s hallways sparked suicidal desires within Stein as he marched to class with Spirit.

He silently wondered to himself why Spirit stayed by his side so often. Of course, he was his partners and it only makes sense, but why did he agree to partner with him in the first place? Pity? Obligations? A dare? Curiosity’s sake? What was his motive? What did he have to gain? What did he want from Stein?

“Earth to Stein,” a particularly large a hand waved in front of his face. “We’re here, let’s go in.”

Stein stood at his priestly little weapon, his red hair glimmering underneath the godawful lighting.

Was he perhaps a spy for Lord Death? A watchdog? Was he reporting his every breath to the god obediently?

A hand wrapped around his arm, tight, but not tight enough to be uncomfortable.

“Come on, dumbass,” Spirit teased, dragging him into the classroom.

“Is something wrong?” The weapon glanced at Stein as they walked up and over to their seats. He was met with a chilling silence, a chilling expression. Stein’s eyes were narrow and clearly examining his every movement.

“Dude, seriously, are you good?” He once again prodded. He seemed fine earlier. Well, to be fair, he never seemed quite “fine,” but it was “fine” enough for Stein.

“Have you hid any sort of camera or listening device in our apartment by any chance?” Stein asked, unsure of why he even did as such when he knew that even if Spirit was guilty of doing so, he would have absolutely no incentive to tell him.

“No? Why would I do that?” Spirit’s face contorted into a confused and utterly bewildered expression. He was entirely taken aback.

“To report back to Lord Death,” Stein begun smiling, as though he were simply joking. It was obvious to him that Spirit thought he was being stupid and weird again, and that it would be best to simply play it off.

“Don’t be so paranoid. I’d never do that,” he stated, sitting promptly in his seat.

“You would if Lord Death asked you to,” Stein bit back, the grin on his face doing nothing for how unsettling his tone of voice was.

Stein took his seat next to Spirit, staring intently at him.

Spirit spared a quick glance, only to ultimately face the front of the classroom, hoping to god Stein would do the same.

What was wrong with the kid?

……

The cacophonous, yet wondrous sound of the bell ringing shook the walls, promptly ending the never-ending chattering of the teacher and Stein’s classmates.

Stein would typically wait for his friends, but he, instead, rushed quickly off by himself. They were all meant to go to lunch together, but Stein could not handle the creeping feeling bubbling inside of him, festering just as his violent feelings do.

Why did he have to be this way?

He wanted to go to somewhere dark and quiet, somewhere he could be alone.

That fantasy was soon shattered by a hand tapping on his shoulder.

“Stein, where are you going?” Spirit questioned before Stein could make it out of the door. The rest of their little group was standing close by him.

“Nowhere now,” he mumbled, sounding almost sad.

……

“Come on, Spirit, tell us about Kami,” Marie pushed on.

“I saw you two practically making out a couple days ago,” Sid teased Spirit.

Spirit’s face flushed madly. He looked to be almost as red as his hair.

Stein listened to his friends go on and on over the most boring of subjects. He did, however, manage to find observing their conversation to be pleasantly entertaining.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t entertaining enough to distract him from the rambling in his head. He felt almost clouded, as though he could barely conjure up a proper thought. Well, other than “they’re lying to you,” and “there’s no point in being here. You’re not one of them. They’re only teasing you. You might as well be a caged zoo animal to them - something to take interest in and observed, but that is all.”

“Are you okay, Stein? You’ve seemed distracted all day,” Marie calls out concernedly. She was always so caring. At least she pretended to be, anyways. Stein was sure she laughed about how he probably fell for it to Spirit and Azusa and Sid and Joe whenever Stein was not present to bear witness to it.

“‘M fine,” he spoke in a hushed, hoarse, and slurred tone. He was looking through the girl as opposed to at her.

“Oh, okay…” Marie trailed off, clearly not believing him in any capacity.

Stein paid no mind to his own terrible lie, only able to wonder to himself why Spirit stopped him from simply going in his own for the lunch period.

……

By the time the school day had finished, Stein had earned himself at least a thousand curious and supposedly worried glances from his friends.

He did not believe their façade of worry. Something in him continued to scream at him how they were lying. He did not know precisely why they were, but he simply knew that they were. Perhaps they were all in it. They were all Lord Death’s spies. Perhaps they knew something he didn’t. It sure felt like it.

Stein was seated on the couch, watching Spirit as he cooked dinner for the two of them.

“Hey, Stein?” Spirit broke the silence. Stein merely let out a hum of acknowledgment.

“I’m going to invite the group over for dinner. Are you ok with that?” He asked, glancing repeatedly over at the visibly sleep-deprived male. He looked as though he might pass out at any given moment.

“You’ve never asked me if I was ok with it before. Why now?” Stein gazed with suspicion into Spirit’s blue eyes, said eyes revealing even more of that false concern.

“I don’t know.. You just.. seem a little off today is all. You’ve been even weirder than usual,” Spirit spoke with an air of sincerity, which only served to further confuse Stein. Was he honestly concerned or not? Was he just a good actor?

“It’s fine. I don’t care,” Stein looked down at his pale hands. He questioned whether or not they were real. And whether or not he was real.

Spirit jumped at the sound of harsh knocks, running towards the door.

“I need to get you guys some extra keys,” Spirit chuckled, opening the door for them and welcoming them in.

“Hey, Stein,” Marie waved in her usually friendly manner, skipping over to sit beside him.

“What are you cooking? It smells great,” Azusa asked curiously, a pleasant expression decorating her visage as she took in the intermingling smells in the air.

“Uh,” Spirit distractedly begun. “Spaghetti and garlic bread.”

“Oooh, that sounds great,” exclaimed Marie from the couch. From the corner of her eye, she examined Stein’s seemingly over-exhausted face. Dark circles painted his under-eyes, and his lips were unbelievably chapped. They appeared to be bloody in some areas. She had noticed long ago that he had an odd habit of biting them.

“That looks like it stings, Stein,” she sympathetically pouted, pointing at his ripped up lower lip.

“Huh? Oh. It’s fine,” Stein shrugged his shoulders, mumbling lethargically. He sounded just as distracted as Spirit had, despite not doing anything.

Azusa, Sid, Joe, and Nygus moved to take their seats on the sofa opposite to Marie and Stein. They were all happily conversing, laughing and smiling.

“What are you guys so giddy about?” Marie grinned, scanning the group in front of her.

“Oh, we’re just making fun of Casanova over there,” Sid tilted his head in the direction of the glaring Spirit. “Sid was telling us about how Spirit told Kami that she was ‘like the most beautiful angel he’d ever seen’,” Azusa spoke in a teasing, mocking tone of voice, placing her hand theatrically upon her chest.

“Oh, wow, Spirit, you really like this girl, huh?” Marie smirked, snickering.

“Yeah, I do, as a matter of fact. She’s great. And you have no room to talk. You fall in love with any guy who gives you the time of day,” Spirit bit right back, chuckling whilst playfully pointing out Marie’s hypocrisy.

Marie gasped in half-phony shock, yelling, “That is not true!”

She turned her head over to Stein expectantly, as he would usually chime in with his usual snarky remark. But he did not say a word. It didn’t even look as though he was paying any attention whatsoever. He was simply staring at the wall with a hollow expression on his face.

“Stein?” She said, elbowing him. “Aren’t you gonna make fun of me? Or Spirit?”

“Huh?” He whipped his head around, scanning the room. The entire group was staring at him.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Marie continued, staring into his disinterested eyes.

“Say what?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, an odd feeling he did not understand bubbling within him as he realized he did not have any sort of upper hand for once. He did not know how to react. He was failing to even mirror the group.

“Never-mind,” Marie forced her mouth into a lazy smile. She seemed to almost pity him. Stein did not want her fake pity.

“Food’s ready!” Spirit shouted excitedly. Everyone rose from their seats to get a portion. Everyone except for Stein.

……

“Stein? Are you done with your food? You hardly ate at all,” Spirit snapped his fingers in front of Stein’s face. Evidently, he had drifted off and forgot to pretend to have some semblance of an appetite.

“Wasn’t hungry. Was good, though,” Stein mumbled.

Marie stood, kindly and politely taking everyone’s plates and bowls and placing them in the sink.

“Are you sure you weren’t hungry? You didn’t eat much all day,” the weapon prodded, suspicious of the obviously lying meister.

“I don’t know,” he leaned his head onto the back of the sofa to rest.

Spirit sighed deeply, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Was he depressed? No, that couldn’t be it. That wouldn’t explain the weird paranoid question he asked him. What was bothering him?

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Even Joe began to question him. Stein wondered how much he was paid to worry.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice remaining quiet and strained.

“What do you guys wanna do? Play a game or something?” Spirit looked curiously around the room.

“We could all watch a movie, but someone doesn’t own a TV,” Sid teased.

“We can’t afford it right now. We’re saving up for it, though,” the redhead replied.

“What kind of game?” Azusa steered the conversation back to its original topic.

“Hm, I’m not sure. Stein, do you wanna choose a game?” Spirit turned the attention back to Stein. His eyes were closed as he breathed slowly in and out.

He lifted his head from the sofa, his eyes opening almost cautiously. “We could play-“

“Let me guess… Operation?” Azusa snickered, interrupting Stein.

“If it’s fun, it’s fun, Azusa,” Stein just barely smirked.

“It’s nice to see you.. sort of smile,” Marie beamed at Stein.

“We can play that, I guess,” Spirit shrugged. “Unless anyone has a better suggestion?”

“Not really,” Marie said.

“Well, it’s settled, then.”

……

“How are you so goddamn good at the game, Stein?” Marie exclaimed.

“It’s all those creepy-ass dissections,” Sid remarked.

The group packed the board game away, continuing their gleeful chatting in the process. Stein had enjoyed the game, it was visible by the focused and relatively more relaxed expression he wore, but it was also obvious that whatever was bothering him had not simply magically disappeared. Both Marie’s and Spirit’s stomachs churned with worry, both sparing knowing glances at one another. They were on the same wavelength at this point.

“Well, I’m gonna have to get going,” Joe begun, walking towards the door. “Thanks for the food. It was great!”

“Oh, yeah, us too, probably,” Sid said, referring to him and Nygus.

“Me, as well,” Azusa chimed in. “You coming, Marie?”

The three stood at the door, holding it open for Marie.

“No. I actually think I’ll stay and help clean up a bit,” she nodded.

“Oh, okay, then,” Azusa took another step forward. “Well, we’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Marie and Spirit both let out a hum of agreement, waving the rest of their group goodbye.

The moment the door shut, they stared holes into the male between them, Marie crossing her arms, and both of them preparing to interrogate him.

Stein glanced at both of them with a glint in his eyes that screamed how he was more than ready to run, his body tensing in response to what he knew they were up to.

“Stein,” Marie broke the awkward silence, distracting them all from the sound of the clock ticking above them. You could truly cut the tension in the room with a knife.

“Hm?” Stein huffed.

“What’s wrong?” She uncrossed her arms, appearing more open and friendly. Her head tilted with concern and curiosity.

“Why do you ask?” He looked her up and down, observing her every breath.

“What do you mean ‘why do you ask’? You’re my friend and I care about you,” she asked, bewildered.

“They were my friends, too, and they aren’t asking,” he crossed his arms, effectively curling in on himself. He looked similar to a turtle shrinking back inside of its shell when feeling threatened.

“Well, we’re closer,” she explained.

“Tell us, Stein,” Spirit decided to enact force upon his partner.

“Why?” Stein asked once more.

“Because we want to help you, Stein!” Spirit quietly yelled, his arms flailing in annoyance. Marie didn’t personally think Spirit’s methods were going to prove effective. She thought at least trying to be patient and trying to behave as non-threateningly as possible would prove to be the best course of action.

“No, you don’t,” Stein hissed, grimacing, and baring his teeth at the weapon.

“What are you talking about?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re just going to tell anything I tell you to Lord Death. And if not Lord Death, then everyone else! For all I know, you could be recording this conversation to show it to everyone you know - or just Lord Death! I know how you people view me!” Stein didn’t exactly seem angry, but rather baffled and cornered like a stray.

“Why the hell you do you keep going on about that shit! Why are you so paranoid?! Of course people think you’re a case study, you are one!” Spirit shouted, his eyes widening wildly.

“Spirit, stop! That’s just unnecessarily rude!” Marie yelled right back, shutting him up before he could say any worse.

“See? You don’t care! You’re tired of dealing with me, you’ve made that obvious! And of course I’m going on about that, what other motive do you have to feign concern?” Stein glared daggers into the Spirit’s soul.

“Stein, do you actually think we’re lying?” Marie softly questioned, logically trying to get to the root of the issue and not just have a shouting match.

“You say that like it’s strange,” he avoided the question.

Marie shot Spirit an “I will rip your head off and feed it to the wolves” look before he could make some mocking remark about how it was, in fact, strange.

“No, I’m just curious, Stein,” she placed her hands in her lap, gazing at him with a gentle expression.

Stein looked back and forth, at Marie, then at Spirit, at Marie, then at Spirit.

“Well, let’s come back to that. Spirit, why are you so mad over this?” Marie felt as though she was playing therapist.

“I guess I’m just worried. And tired of the random, off-the-wall questions. And frankly, I’m hurt that he seems to think I’d backstab him,” Spirit spoke with a much more hushed voice, a genuine look in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Stein.”

“‘S fine,” he mumbled back. “It’s not about you.”

“But how could it not be? I guess you are sort of accusing everyone, but still,” Spirit was entirely confused.

“Please stop,” Stein tucked his head into his knees, pulling on his hair and rocking back and forth.

“What?” Spirit spoke.

“Please just stop. I don’t wanna say it. I don’t want anymore questions. Please go away. I want the dark. I want to be alone,” his voice sounded awfully hoarse again as he slurred his words together.

“I can’t stop, Stein. As your partner, it’s my job to help you,” he replied.

“So, obligation, then? That’s it, huh?” He begin pulling at his hair much harder than before. Marie grabbed onto his hands, attempting to ease Stein away from harming himself.

“Let go,” Stein looked up at her, his eyes redder as it appeared as though he might cry. “‘M not helpless. I can handle myself. Don’t take it personally, just go away.”

Marie did not budge.

“Stein, I won’t let you hurt yourself,” she declared sternly.

Stein’s movements ceased completely as he simply stared. His bottom lip jutted out in a particularly juvenile manner, and it began to quiver. His stomach twisted with paranoia, twisted with this odd feeling that he was longing for something, though he did not know what. He did not want to be vulnerable with them. They were forcing it in him. He just wanted control. He was slipping away.

Suddenly, he choked on a pitiful sob, his body shaking with fervor, as tears began to scorch his rosy cheeks.

“You’re all just like it. It won’t go away. I just want control,” he weeped, speaking in between sobs.

Spirit and Marie sat there for a brief moment, at a loss for what to do. Neither of the two had ever seen him so much as shed a tear.

Marie decided upon scratching up and down his back, playing with his hair at times, as he usually didn’t mind that. She didn’t want him to feel overstimulated by a full-on embrace.

“‘It’?” Marie prodded, hoping to god that it wouldn’t be too much for Stein, and that it wouldn’t make things even worse.

“Don’ wanna say it,” Stein once again slurred his words like a drunkard. Or, rather, a small child.

“Is it paranoia, sweetheart?” She was also hoping that her words, dripping with sappy-ness, would in some way comfort him.

His eyes widened larger than anything they’d ever seen before.

“How’d you know?” He said in the smallest, most pathetic voice. If she didn’t feel so bad for him, she’d probably find it adorable.

“Well, honey, given all the things you’ve said and done,” she trailed off, pulling him in and petting his hair.

“I keep seeing and hearing stuff. Actually, all of my senses have been covered. I don’t feel good,” he said, remaining tense underneath her touch.

“I’m so sorry, Stein,” she spoke sympathetically.

Spirit reached over, rubbing his back in hopes it would soothe him.

Stein then lowered his head, attempting to tuck it away from good sight, as he stuck his thumb in his mouth, childishly suckling on it.

Both Marie and Spirit exchanged odd glances at one another, but did not say a word about it.

“‘S all too big,” he huffed around his finger.

“I’m sure it is, dear,” she hushed him sweetly.

Marie and Spirit acknowledged his odd behavior, how out-of-character he was acting. They supposed it could be attributed to the meltdown he was having, but he was behaving awfully child-like.

“Gonna hurt me,” Stein sniffled.

“Oh, sweetie, I promise we won’t,” Marie cooed, continuing her soothing ministrations. Stein only cried harder.

His eyes were all puffy and swollen, and even his nose was red. He shoved his face into the crook of Marie’s neck, his free hand moving to grip onto her shirt. Almost immediately, she felt his tears soak through her clothing.

She began rocking him from side to side, the motion gentle and calm. His eyelids were becoming too heavy to hold open, though he desperately fought to as he sobbed.

“I wish I could make it go away for you, love,” she whispered into his hair, one arm around his waist, the other on his head. Spirit still continued to massage his back, deep in thought and deep in worry and anxiety.

“It’s okay, you can rest now. It’ll be just fine,” Marie attempted to reassure him.

Slowly but surely, the tight contracting of his muscles released, as he went limp against her. His breathing evened out, his sobbing and sniffling coming to a close.

“How did you manage to do that?” Spirit admired her abilities, simply in utter disbelief.

“What? Put him down for a nap? I’m really good with kids,” she whispered half-jokingly, smiling and chuckling.

“I can tell. You’re really soaking up being able to treat him like one and baby him, too, with those pet names and shit,” he laughed in return.

“Of course I am. But seriously, why is he acting like this? I don’t mean having a breakdown or being paranoid, but..”

“You mean sucking his thumb?”

“Yeah! I mean, I get self-soothing, but that’s just not him at all!” She quietly exclaimed. “Why don’t you look it up or something while I enjoy this while it lasts,” she giggled.

Spirit rolled his eyes, picking up his phone from off of the side table and opening Google.

……

“Hey, I found something,” Spirit announced, grabbing Marie’s attention.

“What is it?” She excitedly asked.

“It’s called ‘age regression.’ It’s pretty in line with his behavior and what happened. Since he was under a lot of stress, he involuntarily reverted to, like, a child. As in, he is in the current mindset of small child, and we’re supposed to treat him how we’d treat anybody of the age he is feeling,” he elaborated, glancing down at his phone and back up at Marie.

“How do we know how old he’s feeling?” She questioned curiously.

“I suppose we could infer based on his behaviors. Or we could ask him whenever he wakes up,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know how long that’ll be, though.”

“How long can it last?”

“Erm.. anywhere from a few minutes, to hours, to days, to… etc.”

“I hope for his sake he’s not in that state of mind at school,” she peered down at the boy worriedly.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed.

……

Stein began to stir in Marie’s grasp, groggily groaning.

“You don’t sleep very long, do you?” Marie adoringly spoke.

He had only really slept for about an hour, which was lucky in Stein’s book.

His head still felt fuzzy and he still felt rather small. Being rocked by Marie wasn’t helping that fact.

“How old do you feel, dear?” She asked, holding back a laugh. He still had his thumb in his mouth, despite being too distraught to suck on it.

He took his finger out of his mouth, maneuvering his hand in such a way that it formed a zero.

“Aw, you’re just a baby, then, huh?” Marie cooed once more, practically pinching his cheeks. Spirit rolled his eyes and snickered at Marie’s behavior.

Stein could not process anything. It felt as though he had clouds in his head as opposed to a brain. Even despite that, there was still that damning feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He whined, shoving his finger back into his mouth, along with his head back into its rightful spot between her neck and clavicle.

“So, we treat him like an infant, then?” Marie clarified.

“Yeah, I think so,” Spirit nodded his head.

Marie’s body shook with a thoughtful and emotional sigh.

“What is it?” The weapon questioned.

“I can’t help but feel responsible for his meltdown,” she glanced down at him with a guilty expression.

“It was bound to happen, you know that, right? He was starting to crack up,” Spirit reassured her.

“Yeah, I guess. But we did push him.”

“I guess.”

Marie sifted through his hair as she rocked him, whispering a quiet apology.

“I’m sorry, Stein.”

“Yeah, me too,” Spirit said, patting him on the back.

Stein turned his head, still lying on her shoulder, but better able to see his friends.

“I guess he is pretty cute despite how weird this all is. Never thought I’d say that about him of all people,” Spirit chuckled to him, rubbing up and down Stein’s back once again. He couldn’t help it, not when he could visibly watch as Stein melted into the touch. Probably the only time he would.

“Yeah, it is kinda weird, but I’d rather he suck his thumb than start cutting into himself again,” she began. “Plus, like you said, he’s kinda cute.”

“Yeah… He’s probably going to freak out again when he feels older, though. He’ll probably think we recorded this for blackmail or something,” Spirit shook his head.

“I hope not,” Marie pouted.

A grumbling sound startled Spirit and Marie, as they looked toward Stein’s abdomen.

“Are you hungry, baby?” Marie asked him, laughing a little. Stein nodded his head.

“How are we going to feed him?” Spirit asked. “I’m not sure he’ll accept actual food like this.”

“I know this isn’t exactly feeding him, but does he still have that sports bottle? Because if he does, can’t we put milk in it?” Marie offered, squinting her eyes in thought.

“You’re seriously going to bottle feed him?” Spirit snickered, not mockingly, but out of genuine surprise.

“What else are we supposed to do?” Marie laughed.

“Well, I’ll go get it. He does still have it,” he walked off toward Stein’s bedroom.

“Thanks!”

“Yep!”

Spirit soon returned with the bottle, going into the kitchen and filling it with milk.

He handed it to Marie, Stein whining in complaint when Marie ceased her rocking motion.

“It’s okay, Stein,” she shushed him, moving the both of them to a better position for bottle feeding.

“Stein is so gonna fucking kill us when he’s back to normal,” Spirit smirked, shaking his head. Marie returned the malevolent smirk.

She gently wrapped her fingers around his thumb, pulling it from his lips. Stein pouted, glaring at her the best he could in his current state. Marie laughed, lifting the bottle and placing the tip into his mouth.

Stein happily accepted the milk, drinking slowly as he looked around the room.

After he had finished a decent portion of the bottle, he pushed it away, groaning softly before Marie could place it on the coffee table.

She moved back into her former position, rocking the boy once more.

“Do you think you could fall asleep again, love?” Marie asked Stein, observing how hard he was trying to stay awake.

“I have an idea,” Spirit grinned. He grabbed his phone, tapping on YouTube, and pulled up a video of some doctors performing a dissection on a dead tiger.

“Should we really be showing that to a baby?” Marie questioned his methods.

“First of all, it’s Stein we’re talking about. We all know he came out of the womb watching this shit, and secondly, I’ve seen him fall asleep to videos like this a lot. I wanna see if it works, even if this state,” Spirit explained, holding up the phone horizontally.

“Look who’s experimenting now,” Marie teased. “Hey, Stein, look what we have.”

Stein turned his head curiously towards whatever they wanted to show him.

He was immediately hooked.

His eyes widened with pure elation, he started to kick his feet, and a huge smile appeared on his face for a short moment.

“See? He’s even fucked up as a baby,” Spirit grinned.

“Should we curse around him still?” Marie pondered aloud.

Spirit gawked at her, rolling his eyes, and snickering.

Marie continued to rock him as he watched the little video. It was actually quite interesting from an educational point of view.

His eyelids began to fall, and the sucking on his thumb died down significantly.

“We’ve got him down again, partner,” Spirit said, quietly high-fiving Marieafter putting his phone away.

“Hopefully he can actually get some sleep,” Marie, caring as ever, wished.

“Yeah, for real, if only,” Spirit said in agreement. “Should we take him to bed?”

“Yeah, I guess so. He’s not too heavy, is he?” She asked, preparing herself to lift him.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t eat too much,” Spirit shrugged. “I can help you if you need it. He’s a light-sleeper, though, so be careful.”

Marie placed an arm underneath his legs and wrapped another around his torso, lifting him up successfully. Being that he was limp in her arms, though, Spirit made himself useful and assisted her.

Once they had arrived, Spirit lifted the covers, and Marie placed him underneath them. The two managed to tuck him in and leave without waking him up.

“Yes!” Marie quietly cheered.

They walked back to the living space, sitting next to one another on the sofa.

“What are we going to do now?” Spirit asked exasperatedly.

“What do you mean?”

“We still don’t know how to help the guy,” he threw his hands up, allowing them to fall and smack his thighs.

“Yeah, true…”

“And it’s clear he’s not going to tell us willingly,” Spirit added.

“I guess we can only offer our support. Tell him we’re here if needed,” Marie suggested.

“Seems like our only option at this point,” Spirit sighed.

There was truly no way to know for them. Stein was never an open book, after all. And it’s not as though they understood what was even happening with him.

They’d simply have to patiently wait for him to feel ready to tell them.