#but when i do it my outcome is so badly appreciated it makes me tear my hair out

[wngweis]

unsatisfied, bored. unsettled. yeah

[navybrat817]

Like There's No Tomorrow

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: When you make a rash decision after you're passed over for a promotion again, Bucky encourages you to follow your dream. It's the start of an unforgettable journey. Word Count: Over 3.4k Warnings: Insecurities, impulsivity, reflecting, slight angst, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best, okay?). A/N: Writing this was very personal and therapeutic after my recent work experience. While I can't actually live this life, I know Firecracker and Daredevil will have many adventures together. Also for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love Challenge (Ludus - Road Trip / Surprise)❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for the encouragement and @buckyownsmylife for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You quit your job on a Friday afternoon.

On paper, it appeared to be an ordinary day. Nothing different from your usual routine. You got up, brushed your teeth, showered, dressed yourself, gave your boyfriend a kiss, selected a caffeinated beverage, and got to work. While you wouldn't call your job your dream job and some of the tasks were monotonous, you were good at it and you cared about your teammates.

In fact, they were one of the reasons you stuck around for as long as you did.

“Just wanted to say you've done a lot for us and we wouldn't be where we are without you.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope this doesn’t get you down.”

“I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better.”

“For what it’s worth, they made a mistake.”

Tears filled your eyes as you looked through the messages a few of your teammates sent after the promotion announcement was made minutes ago. There was an overall mixture of surprise and confusion when they heard you didn’t get it. They knew how hard you worked to move up and how badly you wanted it. You wished you hadn’t gotten your hopes up since that usually led to disappointment.

Of course, you were happy for the candidate who got the job. It wasn’t their fault you didn’t advance. Their success called for celebration. It didn’t make it any easier for you though and it didn’t lessen the hurt that you were passed over once again for something you were more than qualified for.

You somehow held it together though, not wanting everyone around you to see you break. Crying was reserved for the bathroom, your car, and home. Plus, you had shown enough vulnerability to management during the lengthy process and aftermath. They didn’t deserve an ounce more.

Especially after you were told that the value you provided wasn’t enough.

“I know this outcome is disappointing, but this isn’t a setback. You still have a lot to be proud of,” your manager told you the day before when you received the email entailing that you didn't receive the promotion and why. “Take the feedback we’ve given you and use that to get to the next level next time.”

He was only trying to help, but who would want to try again when they’re told they aren’t enough more than once? If the intention was to fuel your fire, they snuffed it out. Then again, your feelings were so raw because you hadn’t given yourself enough time to digest the news. Being told you were just out of reach was salt in the open wound, stinging much more than it should have as you tried to figure out what you did wrong.

Because you had to have done something wrong, right? Were the words you wrote in your application not eloquent enough? Did you not display the right amount of confidence in your interview? Why were you always on the cusp of greatness, but never quite there?

Blinking the moisture from your eyes, you straightened up and began to type again. Personal feelings aside, you had a job to do. You needed the income. You also had to prove that they were wrong in overlooking you. Again.

But as the sound of your fingers flying across the keyboard became white noise in your head, Bucky’s words from earlier in the morning shimmered into your mind.

“Just quit, Firecracker. They don’t deserve you and you deserve better.”

Bucky Barnes, your boyfriend. The kind of man you didn’t think was real until he came into your life. Gorgeous, faithful, doting, protective - you thought men like that only existed in books. He supported and hyped you up every time you went for a promotion and wiped away every tear when you didn’t get it. Your crying and self-doubt broke his heart and this morning may have been the last straw for him.

Maybe it was the last straw for you, too.

Glancing around the office as you saw everyone else typing with minimal conversation, the room had never looked more lifeless to you. There was nothing about the place or the job that inspired you, so why continue to give yourself over to a place that didn’t give back to you in return? Why stay in a place that dulled your shine?

The sudden realization hit you square in your chest that you didn’t want to be there anymore.

“Have a great weekend, team. Good luck and thanks for everything.” You sent in a message before you could stop yourself.

You had never had an out-of-body experience before, but it was as if your spirit was beside you as you began to close the programs on your computer. Glancing at your desk after you set your phone to voicemail, you realized you had hardly any personal touches in your space. Except for the photo of you and Bucky.

He was your one bright spot in the building.

With the utmost care, you put the photo in your bag once you shut everything down. Your heart sank as your gaze swept over your team, an uncomfortable pit settling in your stomach as you went to see your boss. Disappointing anyone always brought you a sense of dread and you didn’t want to let him or anyone else down, but you were thinking of yourself for once.

You owed yourself that.

“Hey,” your boss smiled as he glanced up from his desk before he noticed you had your bag. You shifted on your feet when his cheerfulness shifted to concern. “What’s up? Are you clocking out early?”

“Not exactly,” you answered, gripping your bag so hard your hand began to ache.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat.

You didn’t know how to respond because it wasn’t okay and nothing he could say or do would change how you felt. You didn't want him to try and sway you to stay. The heartbreaking part was that he was, overall, a good boss. He taught you a lot and helped you better yourself. So did the team as a whole. They were rock stars. Each and every one of them.

But now they weren’t enough to make you stay and maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you didn’t go anywhere with your job.

So with a bittersweet smile, you uttered, “I quit. I’m sorry.”

You tossed your building key onto his desk and turned away before he could reply. Your mind raced as you put one foot in front of the other and ignored the stares of your coworkers who caught on to what had just transpired. It was hard to breathe, but your steps for once felt light instead of heavy. Your boss may have called out for you, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when you couldn’t stay in there another minute.

What you didn’t expect was for Bucky to be waiting outside as you went out of the door.

Your boyfriend managed to take your breath away every time you saw him and today was no exception. All 6’4” of him, he decided to cover his beefy frame with one of his favorite leather jackets, a fitting shirt, and tight jeans. His stormy eyes zeroed in on you as he pushed away from his old pickup truck and ran a hand through his chestnut hair. He was stunning.

He was yours.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you blurted out as you raced toward him. “Get me out of here. Please.”

But why was he there? You didn’t plan to meet up with him until after work and your shift was only a little over halfway over. Did he want to surprise you?

He caught you easily with his large hands before you could stumble into him. “Whoa, easy. Get in,” he said, opening the passenger door and helping you in. Your hands trembled as you buckled yourself in, your body in flight mode because you had to get away from the office. He wasted no time getting in and peeling out of the parking lot, the building becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.

You weren’t even sure how far away he drove before he pulled over and stopped the car since you didn’t look behind you. Resting your shaking hands on your thighs, the high of walking out dissipated until it left you cold. Reality sank in. Would it pull you under?

“Talk to me,” Bucky urged, his voice calm and gentle instead of demanding. “Please?”

“I quit my job,” you whispered, your gaze set in front of you, but not seeing anything in focus. “I couldn't do it anymore.”

Bucky leaned over to turn your face toward him, sympathy and understanding filling his eyes. “Oh, baby, I knew today would be the tipping point. Waited most of the morning for you to walk out,” he said. You were about to question how he could possibly know that, but he could read you better than anyone. “Just a feeling I had.”

“I quit my job. I quit,” you said again, your breathing more shallow than before he engulfed you in a warm and grounding embrace. Your fingers twisted in his jacket as you breathed him in. Sandalwood and citrus were scents you now associated with love because of him. “What did I do?! I didn’t even give notice. I just tossed my card down and left. Fuck, I just burned my bridges with everyone there.”

You stifled a sob as you hid your face in his neck. You swore to yourself that you would never be that person who walks out on a job, but you did just that and screwed over your entire team. Would any of them understand why you did it or accept an apology? How long would it take for that guilt to go away since you essentially gave up after the words of kindness and encouragement they gave you?

“Breathe, baby. I’ve got you” he whispered, rubbing your back as you steadied yourself. “Yeah, you quit today. And maybe you burned a bridge, maybe not. But I couldn’t be fucking prouder of you.”

“You’re proud that I walked out on my team?” You asked, whipping your head up so fast you were lucky you didn’t get whiplash. “They don’t deserve to deal with that. Not to mention, I have nothing lined up.”

The thought of starting over again made your stomach drop again. The job market could be a terrifying and hopeless place. What if you couldn’t find anything? Or what if you burned through your savings by the time you did?

“I’m proud that you walked away from something keeping you down. After everything you’ve done for them, I’m sure most of them will get why you couldn’t do it anymore,” he assured you, the corners of his lips turning down when you sniffled. “And don't worry about not having something lined up. We'll figure it out.”

“We?” You questioned. Bucky was your boyfriend, but this wasn’t his problem.

“Yeah, we,” he said, pointing between the two of you with his forefinger. “You and me. I'm in this with you.”

Your heart melted before logic tried to take back over. “I should just go back there and apologize. I can say that I-”

He framed your face and pressed his warm lips to yours before you could say another word. He coaxed you to return the kiss with ease and you responded with parted lips and a sigh. His kisses left you lightheaded as sparks ignited, threatening to explode if you went much further. Which was why he stopped to let you catch your breath.

“No. You’re not doing that,” he said, his scruff tickling your forehead as he pressed a kiss there. He knew that was a weakness of yours and it instantly stopped you from arguing. “We're going on an adventure and we can’t do that if you’re chained to a desk.”

“An adventure?” You repeated with uncertainty.

“Yeah. We’re going to drive and see where it takes us,” he said, his lips touching your forehead once more before he started up the car again. “Just need to grab a couple of things before we go.”

“What about work for you?”

“It’s taken care of,” he assured you. He wasn’t the type of guy to lie, but when did he have time to plan this? Neither one of you had mentioned going anywhere.

Leave it to Bucky to do something impulsive to make you happy.

“Okay,” you said, trusting him and deciding to play along with his endeavor. “You said we need a couple of things. What do we need? Besides the essentials.”

“Your laptop. And a journal if you don't feel like typing.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. My laptop so I can apply for new jobs and pray that they don’t reach out to my now previous boss as a reference, right?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, a playful smirk on his face when you swung your head toward him. “The laptop is so you can write like you've always wanted to. And the journal if you prefer to write some of your thoughts and ideas down by hand.”

“Wait. You want me to write on this trip?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your boyfriend was certifiably crazy, but you loved that about him. “Bucky, no. I can't just write,” you said.

“Why not?” He shrugged.

“Because it doesn't pay the bills or provide security,” you replied.

Writing was a silly hobby that you did from time to time to help you channel your emotions or escape from the real world. At best, it was a dream. Nothing more. He knew that. At least, you thought he knew that.

At the end of the day, it wouldn’t put a roof over your head or food in your stomach. How were you expected to hold onto dreams that wouldn’t take you anywhere? And at what point did you stop believing in them and yourself?

When did you start thinking so cynically?

“But working a job you're not passionate about just to provide safety is the better option? There’s a difference between doing something you love and doing something you’re good at when your heart isn’t in it. You’ve done the latter for years now,” He said with a huff as you inhaled. “That isn't living and you’re lying to yourself if you think it is.”

Your eyes narrowed as his words sank in, your shackles raising. “No, it isn’t living, but it’s the most practical thing I can do! And, yeah, I am good at my job because I worked my ass off!” You argued, taking a breath. You didn’t want to start crying or snap at him when he was right. “Or at least I was good at my job. And I would’ve done my best had I advanced, but I couldn’t even accomplish that.”

Which begged the question of why you applied. The higher title and pay would’ve been nice for recognition and comfortability. You believed you earned it. But was it what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? Was that your path when you looked toward your future?

You hadn’t taken into account your own desires and values.

“Hey,” he said softer than before. “I wasn’t trying to-”

“And say I do try and write for real. How can I even enjoy this adventure knowing I'm probably just going to fail again?” You asked in a small voice.

How many hits could you take before your armor cracked?

Bucky's jaw clenched. “And that's exactly why I'm glad you finally quit. You've had so many people over your head telling you that what you do isn't enough to achieve what you want. And now you believe it,” he said, his hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough that you feared he’d bend it with his strength. “Fuck that and fuck them for making you feel that way.”

Your mouth fell open as you stared, his fury for and defense of you making your chest tighten. “I…”

“Why can’t you be a writer, huh? Why not try? You’re talented and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. That’s where your heart is and it shows with every word,” He pressed, knowing you put your whole self into your creative outlet. “And, listen, we have money set aside for the time being and more than enough for this excursion. So I don’t care if writing doesn’t pay the bills for a while as long as you’re happy and doing what you’re passionate about. We’ll have each other and that’s enough in my eyes.”

Contemplating his words, you had to give him credit. The job wasn’t something you did because you were passionate about it. You did it because it was safe and expected of you when in many ways it held you back. Besides, what did you have to lose at this point? If you didn’t try, you’d never know. You’d look back one day and regret it if you let the chance pass you by.

Why not do something impulsive?

Why not make the most out of the moment you were in?

“Okay. You’re right. I should try to write and we should go,” you nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s grab a few things and see where this trip takes us.”

“There she is,” he smiled over at you, making your heart swell. “There’s my Firecracker.”

The nickname would always warm your heart. “You know, this actually sounds a bit like that book idea I had the other day,” you said, excitement seeping through your veins. Your fingers twitched a bit, too, with the urge to write. “Do you remember? I told you about it while we were eating pizza.”

Bucky took one hand from the steering wheel to grab yours. “I remember everything you've ever said.”

“Flattery will get you everything, Daredevil,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “So, we're really doing this. We're just leaving?”

“Not just leaving. We're taking a long overdue road trip," he says, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “You deserve it.”

“We both do,” you said, the uncertainty leaving your body more with each passing second. You even turned off your phone so you wouldn’t be tempted to look at any emails or messages. “We deserve to live today like there’s no tomorrow.”

“‘Like there’s no tomorrow’,” Bucky quoted back to you with a hum. “Sounds like a good book title.’

“I’ll have to write it down so I don’t forget,” you smiled, linking your fingers together. “And don’t forget your journal, too. I don’t want you to miss a thing.”

“I won’t forget it,” he promised.

“Bucky?” You asked, swallowing as he gazed over at you. “Thank you. Really.”

It felt like you could breathe again without a weight in your chest. You didn't feel perfect, but you felt good. All thanks to him. You didn’t know what you’d do without him.

“You don’t need to thank me, baby, but I should thank you for letting me take you away,” he winked, keeping your hand in his as he faced forward again. “Makes me feel like a real hero, even though you wouldn't let me storm the castle.”

Oh, he wanted so badly to go off on your manager, but there was no need. “You are a hero,” you said. He saved you without knowing. “But try not to speed, Daredevil. I don’t want us to get pulled over before we get started.”

He groaned, but nodded as he let off the gas. “I’ll try not to speed. Need to make sure I get you to where we’re going safely.”

“I trust you.”

You would find out soon enough that Bucky had a list of things written in his journal that he planned to do with you on this trip. Everything you had ever said in passing that you wanted to do or try, but never could because of work. Because he paid attention to you. And you were right.

You deserved to live today like there’s no tomorrow.

And he wanted to be by your side while you lived your best life.

So, lovelies, where are they doing on their trip first? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[tarotwithlove]

PICK A CARD ೕ what aspect of your life is taking up too much of your attention?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards · two of swords (reversed), ace of pentacles, eight of cups, eight of swords (reversed), the fool (reversed).

songs · my dil goes mmmm by vishal-shekhar. nowadays by leo. cha ching by slayyyter.

my dear group one ♡ you are at a crossroads right now, stagnating as you are made to choose between doing what you love or doing what you need to do. you may be in a relationship at the moment, with someone who you see as a big part of your future; maybe even with someone who you can see settling down and one day marrying.

but now, as you are faced with an academic or career opportunity that could tear you two apart, you are finding yourself only more confused and conflicted than ever. languishing in life because of your inability to choose one or the other.

for some, of course, this is not a romantic connection. instead, you may feel as if you are finally setting down roots in a city and can finally call a place home.

in both cases, this opportunity could uproot your life as you know it… and you want both so badly—the comfort of love and home AND the excitement of an opportunity you had worked so hard for—that now, when it comes time to take action and make a decision, you are unable.

this is the aspect of your life that is taking up too much of your attention, right now. you are so focused on making the right decision that you do not even see which decision is the best one for you. it is important to recenter yourself in this situation, dear. to make yourself the priority as you decide and not the fear of how others will react to your decision. you must also know—and i say this not to scare you, but to make sure you are fully aware—that time is running out. opportunities do not wait for you.

if you continue to put off making this decision, this opportunity will pass you by. would you rather lose out on this because you were too scared to make a decision or let it go because you are deciding to prioritise other things at this point in your life? it’s time to step up, dear, even though it is hard.

in all truth, there is no reason for this to be taking up so much of your time and attention because, if you actually sat down with yourself, you would realise that the decision is far easier to make than you thought.

GROUP TWO

cards · two of wands (reversed), the hermit, two of swords, the tower, the moon.

songs · alien superstar by beyoncé. shattered dreams by earl sweatshirt. bon acteur by lous and the yakuza. 

my dear group two ♡ you are focusing so much on an imagined negative outcome that you do not even see, one, how you may possibly be stunting your very chance to have your desired outcome, and two, all the inklings of divine blessing and guidance by which you are surrounded. 

you may have started to isolate yourself, or to try and convince yourself that you are no longer working towards this big goal, all in a bid to make yourself better in the case that all your plans fail and nothing works out as you have hoped. you want this dream to be a reality, but you are so focused on how it may never be, that you are only pushing it further and further and further away from you.

and not entirely in a “your thoughts create your reality way”… but… don’t they? if you think that your efforts will be wasted, will you give it your all? if you think that faith is futile, will you believe in the possibility of your own success? if you believe that there is no point in hope because everything could just collapse around you at any moment, will you be hopeful even when you don’t see things physically working out in your favour? likely not. 

as things are at this moment, you are the two of swords between the two of wands in reverse with the hermit and the tower with the moon. you cannot know the outcome of either path beyond that one has a future for you, and one does not.

it is time to focus less on chasing after the everyday ordinary and time to start taking concrete steps towards fulfilling this dream, instead of making plans with which you do not follow through. take that acting class, that ballet class, those singing lessons. put on youtube and build a practice of your craft that way. 

dear, it is time to stop standing in your own way. 

GROUP THREE

cards · six of swords (reversed), ace of pentacles, nine of wands, judgement (reversed), death.

songs · hold me like a grudge by fall out boy. bug like an angel by mitski. i am my own muse by fall out boy.

my dear group three ♡ you may be going backwards in your progress, or be at a stage in your journey where you are faced with the often cyclical nature of healing, progress, and your own thoughts. where you are being faced with the truth that “progress is not linear”. your life, at the moment, may feel completely out of your control—especially with regard to money and your future.

right as i typed that sentence, the line, “i’m just trying to keep it together, but it gets a little harder when it never gets better,” from i am my own muse by fall out boy suddenly caught my attention likely because that is the best way to describe your current circumstances as well as how you feel about your current circumstances. 

everything around you feels so out of your control, so you have turned all your attention inward and onto the only thing you know for certain you can control—your body. as well as, to some extent, your self in an entirety.

you may be calling this a wellness, health, or fitness journey, only to be masking the truth that you are slipping into (or slipping back into) some negative habits as you do anything to exert some of that control you so desperately need to have in your life. well, anything to your body and yourself, that is. you may constantly be thinking about your body; what you are eating, how you are looking at any given moment, the weight you have gained and the weight you have lost, and so on and so forth…

there does not seem to be any way out of this cycle for you, likely because you are not allowing yourself to see it as something that could possibly be detrimental to you down the road. or because you are willing to take on the risks if it allows you distraction, control, and the chance of meeting your body goals in equal parts.  

you may say that the risk you are taking is calculated, but only because you are not being entirely honest with yourself about what these risks could potentially be. and that’s not a judgment on you, just the truth. 

GROUP FOUR

cards · page of wands (reversed), nine of pentacles, eight of cups (reversed), ten of cups (reversed), justice. 

songs · no manners by superm. rose by d.o. hypocrates by marina. timeless by nct. 

my dear group four ♡ as soon as i began pulling your cards, what i feel is the most important message came through for you… there is no going back. as much as you hold onto the past, you can never return to it.

as much you regret something you did or something you said or something you let go, there is nothing that simply wallowing in melancholy will do.

you are so focused on the past, but you cannot live there. your life is happening around you now, and it is a life that you are, to an extent, missing out on because of how much more attention you are paying to people, places, and situations that have passed. 

it is time, dear, to make peace with the past and the life you could not have—which, for some, is a relationship with a specific person. making peace is not easy… oftentimes it comes with having to be honest with yourself in ways you never want to be.

but it is time to take action so that you may live your life in the present once more. and action will look different for every person; for some, it may be trying again, for some it may be confrontation, for some, it may be walking away onto better things. and while it will differ from person to person, the truth is that thinking about the past without doing anything about it is not doing you any favours. 

you may come out on the other end with fresh eyes, seeing the people around you for who they are and not the ideas of who they are that you have been holding on to. 

whatever the outcome, dear, it is time to make peace with the past and the life you wish you could have lived so that you may live the life that is unfolding around you at this very moment.  

[caterkinnie]

Can you pls… pls do one where the dorm leaders including Jamil find out the reader found and ate one of the black stones willingly. Just so they could finally do something to help not only in class but during battles as well.

Reader eats a black stone and is unconscious for a few days! (Housewardens + Jamil instead of Kalim)

Summary: You eat a black stone in hopes of gaining magic and being able to do better in class and help in fights. However it doesn't go as planned and you're unconscious for a few days to let your body clean all the blot.

genre: angst with a happy ending (kind of)

warnings: mentions of death, insecurities technically, a loooot of low self esteem from some of these boys and blaming themselves for things happening, and technically spoilers in idia's part!

Sorry, but my character limit is 7 characters per request, so i switched kalim and jamil here, hope it's ok!!! Also changed it a bit since y'know, thought something different would be nice ^^' hope it's ok

if you want me to write kalim u can request it later !

Reblogs are appreciated!

Riddle was studying when one of the first years called him notifying him you were injured and unconscious.

He practically sprinted towards the infirmary, to find you all covered in ink stains. It reminded him of his overblot, but decided to bury that thought, that's not possible right?

When he was informed you did eat a black stone he was… overwhelmed.

He feels furious, towards himself, towards the person who overblotted and left the blackstone. Frustrated for not being able to help you or stop you before committing that mistake. Terrified of the idea of losing you, he's overthinking, the fact you don't have magic makes it confusing to him, will you be okay? Is your body really prepared to clean all the blot?

All the time you're unconscious he's nervous and becomes clumsy. Even if he wants to, he can't keep his mind away from you, or the fear of what might happen to you, will he be able to see you ever again?

The moment you wake up, Riddle's in tears and refuses to leave your side. You scared him so badly!!! he really thought for a second you were not going to wake up!!

And when you explain your reasoning he's… Very upset.

Deep down he feels it's his fault, for not being able to protect you. Please reassure him and comfort him! He really needs it!

Leona was napping when Ruggie told him, couldn't believe it at first and decided to go to the infirmary to check, it couldn't be that bad right?

He was already starting to wonder where have you been all day, and this is the answer?

He's worried, he's so worried, he's terrified. Humans like you aren't prepared to deal with blot, will you really be able to survive?

(more under the cut!)

Everytime the thought of losing you comes through his mind he tries to convince himself that he deserves it. You were too good for him, but life is not fair, he should've expected it.

In reality he feels guilty for so many reasons. Leona feels like he was never good enough for you, that he SHOULD have done better because this OUTCOME WAS OBVIOUS. Everything good in his life had to leave at some point, so it's only fair this would happen.

Leona spends almost all the time you're unconscious napping. His brain is so mean to him sometimes and every time he's awake he thinks about you.

When you do wake up he's not leaving you, you CANNOT tear him away from you. He's holding you close, and while he sounds like he's scolding you for not napping with him, you can feel his body slightly shaking. He was so scared, please don't do something like that ever again.

After you tell him your thought process he's genuinely upset with you, why would you do something so reckless and dangerous for such reasons? Like Riddle he feels like it's his fault.

You can tell he's relieved that you're okay, but won't admit it.

Azul was trying to get a student into a contract the moment Jade came in to tell him you were in the infirmary, he got worried and started asking all kinds of questions. What happened? Did someone hurt you? Was it bad?

Jade tells him the situation and he's instantly rushing to the infirmary. Forget about his calm facade, your body isn't prepared to deal with blot you know?!

Even if he knows you won't be unconscious for too long that doesn't mean he's not insanely worried the whole time.

Tries to keep himself busy with work to avoid thinking about it, but still visits you whenever he has free time. He's just… so scared of something going wrong and not seeing you ever again. There's so many things you still haven't done together! You haven't even seen his mer-form yet!

The eels try to reassure him but Azul is just… A natural overthinker, there's not much they can do about it.

The moment you wake up, he's sobbing, asking you how that happened and if someone forced you to do it.

When you explain he's… speechless. His voice breaks when asking you if it's his fault… Azul reassures you he doesn't mind protecting you and helping you with school. Just… don't do something like that again.

It lingers in his mind for a long time, and blames himself for not being there or noticing. Again! Do reassure him, he needs it.

Probably noticed something weird, but didn't want to point it out.

Jamil was cleaning the dishes when an underclassmen nervously approached him breaking the news.

When he gets to the infirmary he's demanding an explanation of what happened.

Like Leona, feels like he should have expected this. For someone like him to have someone like you? Of course his happiness wouldn't last long, of course he can't bring himself to have something for once.

He acts like nothing is different, except he's working a lot more and it's pretty noticeable by the bags under his eyes, trying to avoid every single thought about you.

Even Kalim is able to notice he's not doing well! But Jamil is quick to deny anything. Says he's slightly worried and redirects the conversation to something else, it's almost impossible to get a word out of this guy.

Of course, Jamil forgets all that when you wake up. It doesn't matter if he's in class or anything.

When he sees you, he's quiet, and asks you if he can hold you first, of course. If you say yes, you can feel him slightly trembling and hesitating while trying to get close.

You'd have to tell him directly what happened, because he's not going to ask, he's terrified of the answer. And he feels even worse hearing it.

Jamil feels bad because he knew something was going on, but refused to ask you. Because you probably did this in hopes that he didn't worry so much about you. Because you wanted to have more free time to help him. He thinks it's all his fault, even if it isn't.

You were late for your date with Vil, you agreed to let him try his new make up on you, but it's been an hour since the time you two agreed. He was already getting impatient and WOULD be thinking about scolding you, if it wasn't for the fact he was seriously worried.

Vil is about to leave and look for you until someone knocks at his door. It's Rook, and he's awfully quiet which makes him even more impatient and worried.

When Rook tells him what happened he doesn't hesitate to straight up run to the infirmary (In heels even, how is that possible?)

Is demanding an explanation from the staff, asking every single question about your health.

He's calmer than the rest of the guys here in this situation, you're just going to be unconscious for a few days after all, it's going to be alright, right?

That's what he thinks, even if he's confident about you being okay, not having you around really hits him.

He finds himself going to the infirmary rather often, the staff hates him! He keeps asking questions over and over again. Yeah he sounds like a worried mom sometimes, but he IS worried.

Sometimes just… staring at you… admiring your beauty… feels enough, but that little loneliness he started to feel since day one doesn't go away, is he really that dependent on you?

When you wake up he's calm, but you can see he's relieved. He's asking you questions, and when you explain why you did it… He starts scolding you. Why would you do something like that?! If you ever needed help you could just ask him! No, he's not having any of this. Although Vil is reassuring you you're okay the way you are, he sounds like he's scolding you. But I guess if you're dating him you're used to this.

You usually go to his room for about this hour.. Where are you?

Maybe you're busy with homework? No, you always tell him before, or do your homework in his room. Maybe something came up. Maybe you just don't feel well? Maybe you just don't want to see him today… or not see him anymore (Idia that's never the reason!!!)

You probably guessed it already, but Ortho is the one breaking the news for him. And he can't believe it at first, it must be a bad joke, right? Please tell him it's a joke.

(spoilers for chapter 6) !

When he sees you is when it really hits him. Blot is always ruining his life, huh? Of course he can't have anything good in his life, it's not like he can wish for his family curse to go away or anything.

Like Jamil and Leona, Idia thinks this should have been expected. Even worse, he thinks it's his fault for accepting you into his life. That his curse somehow affected you or something like that?

You bet this man is spending the entire time playing videogames, reading manga and listening to happy music to avoid his brain producing a thought. But none of that makes him feel better and he's feeling miserable and empty until the day you wake up.

When you do wake up Ortho is the one to greet you! The moment you feel healthy enough he'll get you to Idia's room, to convince him to go outside!!!! He's been doing really bad since you ate the black stone.

Hug him! He probably won't hear you because of his headphones. He almost screams the moment he feels your touch.

Idia is talking so fast and giving you no time to answer going on and on about how much he missed you and how scared he was.

When he DOES calm down and let you explain yourself he'll try his best to reassure you you don't need magic at all, and it's not even that useful outside school either! And putting yourself in danger like that is not worth it in general. But please just. Don't do something like that ever again.

Malleus has been feeling uneasy the whole day, he cannot pinpoint exactly what's wrong but something… something feels off.

He hasn't seen you all day, and in his mind it probably isn't a big deal, maybe you're just busy, right?

The moment Lilia comes to him telling him to go to the infirmary because you're unconscious it all starts to make sense, and he doesn't waste any time teleporting there (scaring all the staff at the same time ^^').

When Malleus finds out what happened, his first thought is to try to take all the blot himself so you don't have to suffer. Quickly stopped by Lilia and the staff telling him the only thing stopping you from overblotting is the fact that you don't have magic. If he did that there's a chance he would overblot so it's better to not take any risks.

Even so, he's willing to do it, your situation is quite dangerous specifically since you could be different from the humans from Twisted Wonderland, and he would do anything for you. Even if it means…

The whole time he's upset and more easily irritated than usual, he just misses you so much! It's just going to be a few days and he's confident you're going to wake up. It's just…. like Vil, he misses you a lot.

He's so used to you brightening up his days and now he realizes how much happiness you bring to him.

The moment you wake up, like Jamil, he doesn't care if what he was doing was important. Malleus will be by your side instantly.

He tries to not overwhelm you since you might still be weak but still, he's just so relieved and happy to have you back.

He'll give you time to tell him what really happened and when he DOES find out he's confused. If it's about grades then you shouldn't literally risk your life to get better grades, and he's one of the strongest magicians in Twisted Wonderland, you just need to call him and he'll protect you from anything. Even if you explain he really doesn't understand.

[mypoisonedvine]

claimed || alpha!Andy Barber x reader

summary: an interrogation with an alpha is no place to have an unexpected heat.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (dub con; the reader goes into heat and can’t think clearly enough to say no), a/b/o dynamics, loss of virginity, mentions of misogyny/discrimination against omegas, vague noncon and violence references, kinda housewife kink, possessiveness, breeding kink, praise, overstimulation, knotting, slight bondage (reader is handcuffed), slight pain kink, implied/subtle age gap, pregnancy mention at the end, kinda soft!dark andy but he's really not that dark

"This would be a lot easier for both of us if you started telling the truth."

You chewed your lip, looking away from the man across from you; it was impossible to keep eye contact when his gaze bore into you like that, when he gave you that stern, dominating look.

Andy Barber was so obviously an alpha, he was one of those types that just reeked of it. Figuratively— with the way he towered over you, his masculine body and strong features— but also literally considering his scent was filling the room now: pine, cinnamon, sage, and something a little bit sweet that made your mouth water.

It made sense for an alpha like him to have a high-powered, high-pressure career like this; he probably got a real kick out of squeezing information out of scared betas who couldn’t stand up to him.

And that was the role you were going to play now, because he was wrong: it would not be easier if you told the truth. If he knew what you really were, you’d be doomed.

You’d been hiding successfully as a beta for a long time by now, and you weren’t about to give it up now, even if it would likely have the charges against you dismissed. Omegas lived sheltered, oppressed lives; sought constantly by alphas, they had their pick of the finest since omegas were so rare, but until mated they were extremely vulnerable— and afterwards they were usually made to be subservient housewives, constantly bearing children as a consequence of their extreme fertility.

Maybe some omegas were okay with that, plenty probably loved that lifestyle since it was sort of the instinctual habit of an omega by nature, but not you. Never you. You wanted a life, a real life, your own life as more than an alpha’s mate. Thankfully you’d found the right mix of suppressants and perfumes to hide your scent, the right work schedule so you could always be home for your rare heats, and voila: to the rest of the world, you were a beta.

Being a beta meant being unnoticed, unacknowledged, never pursued and never courted. And that was exactly how you wanted it.

If Andy Barber knew that the man you’d stabbed was an alpha trying to force himself on you, there was a chance he would understand that it was self-defense and let you go. Then again, a lot of alphas seemed to think that being forced to mate was just par for the course for an omega; surely Andy wouldn’t be one of those types, as a man of the law, right?

“I can’t,” you finally answered.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he assured, some of his anger shifting to a soothing tone. It really did calm you down; he must have been using his ‘alpha voice’ on you, and the fact that it worked should’ve been a red flag but you didn’t notice. “Let’s start from the beginning. You said you were at home but no one has confirmed your alibi. You said you didn’t know the victim but you obviously reacted when I showed you his picture. And, you said you weren’t there at the time of the murder but we found your DNA on the body.”

A little smile pulled at the corner of your lips, exactly not the reaction Andy had been expecting. “You’re lying,” you whispered.

He tensed up as you called his bluff. The DNA found at the scene was in the process of being analysed, sure, but it would be weeks until the results came back. “How can you be so sure?” he pressed.

“Because I.  Wasn’t. There,” you hissed, glaring back at him; he shook his head solemnly..

“No, that’s not it. I can tell when you’re lying, too, you know,” he warned.  “Tell me how you know I don’t have your DNA at the scene?”

“Because… because…” you breathed, blinking a few times as the room started to get warmer. Your head was spinning, your thighs clenched together— and when Andy reached out to rest his hand on yours and ask if you were alright, his touch sent it all into overdrive.

No, no, it wasn't your time yet. It shouldn't have come for a few more days, and you’d arranged to be bailed out tomorrow so you’d go into your cycle safely at home and not in jail. But now it was beginning and you had no way to stop it. Had the smell of an alpha really been enough to start your heat early?

Andy watched you start to pant and sweat with a furrowed brow, unsure what he was witnessing because he’d never had the opportunity to see it before. His ex-wife had been a beta, he'd never even met an omega before— they were quite rare after all.

But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in instinct; his body told him everything he needed to know about what he was seeing. “Omega,” he growled lowly, watching your whole body erupt into shivers at the timbre of his voice.

As far as alphas go, Andy was relatively level-headed, not as preoccupied with instinctual desires to dominate, to claim, to impregnate. A lot of alphas viewed mating with a beta as settling, although it was the much more likely outcome, statistically speaking. Andy, though, never really saw it that way, even knowing how much harder it would be to have a child with a beta. Their fertility was significantly weaker, both the males and the females, and Jacob was the product of years of trying; in all their marriage him and Laurie had never used any contraceptives and she only got pregnant the once.

But an omega? Especially a young one like you? He could knock you up right now, if he wanted. That power was intoxicating. It was exactly what he never knew he needed so badly.

“I don’t need the results of your DNA to know what you are,” he explained firmly. “I can’t believe I didn’t know before— you must have tried really hard to keep it a secret, little one. You must be so afraid of who you are… and who I am, for that matter.  It must scare you to imagine what I could do to you.”

You whimpered, the noise tugging his heart in conflicting directions; to comfort you, or to make you do it again.

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think,” he assured. “Not if I can help it…”

Honestly, he wasn’t so sure he would be able to help it; he felt his own sanity slipping as he watched you writhe and cry, instinct overtaking logic in the both of you.

"Alpha, please," you shuddered, the title making his cock harden instantly, uncomfortably filling the trousers of his suit.

"You smell so good," he purred, taking his jacket off as he stood up to cool off a bit. "I can smell your heat, Omega. I bet everyone in the building can—” he glanced to the locked door— “but I'm the only one here."

"Need you," you whined, tugging on the handcuffs that kept you bound to the table.

"Stand up, bend over," he commanded, and he'd barely finished speaking when you'd already done it, bent at the hips with your forearms resting on the table as you waited for him. "Good girl."

He rolled up his sleeves and took his place behind you, caging his body in with yours, nuzzling into your neck to get a deep breath of your scent.

"Fuck, so sweet," he groaned. "Waited so long for this. To feel an Omega on my cock. Never thought it would really happen. Has an Alpha ever taken you before?"

"No, I never… no."

"Not just unclaimed but a virgin. Christ, am I dreaming?"

But he was too far gone to take any more time to appreciate his luck— he needed you now, and he was taking you all for himself.

If he wasn't so overcome with need he wouldn't have thought to tear your clothes off, but now he didn't even think to question the idea, shedding you of your clothes like they were made of paper until you were completely exposed to him, your wet core vulnerable while another wave of your sweet scent filled the room.

"Look at all this," he grinned, kneeling down to lap at your folds and taste your slick. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your channel craving to be filled. "All for me, Omega?"

"Yours, it's all yours…"

"Doesn't it feel good to be claimed, little one? To be owned?"

"S-so good," you agreed. "Want your knot, Alpha. Want your mark."

A growl echoed in his chest when you said that, and he craved nothing more than to bite your neck and bond you to him for life.

But, it would be better if he saved that for a little later.

He stood up again and gave your ass a quick slap— nothing too rough, just enough to make you yelp all cute and whiny— before grabbing your hips to pull them back into his. You gasped and pushed back onto him, shamelessly rubbing yourself against the thick outline of his cock.

"Gonna make a mess on me with all that slick, Omega," he growled, but it was by no means discouragement.

"Want it in me, please," you sobbed. Unable to resist your begging anymore, he hastily opened his belt and fly, sighing with relief when he wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled it out. Your whole body visibly quaked when he swiped the swollen head through your folds, coating himself in your plentiful arousal.

Without any further warning, he pushed his cock in with a loud moan, a cry tearing from your throat as he tore into your body. "Shh," he soothed as his fingers rubbed your spine, "that's my girl, that's my pretty Omega."

But pain wasn't really your issue; it hurt, yes, but what made you cry was that you were already on the edge, about to come from hardly anything. When he thrusted once, you lost it and your legs quivered as a new wave of slick started to dribble down them.

"Are you coming?" he asked darkly.

You could only nod, biting your lip to try to keep from moaning too loudly.

"Oh my god…" he groaned, amazed at how sensitive you were. Clearly he wasn't the only one realizing how powerful and incredible it could be when an alpha and omega mated.

He started to really pound into you then, each brutal thrust knocking you forward.

"Feels good when you come for me, Omega. Do it again."

You couldn't help yourself; his voice had complete control over your body, his words a command you were helpless to resist. With a broken whimper you came again, walls squeezing his cock in a weak and stuttered rhythm.

"It's better than they say it is. Even better than I imagined. So fucking good," he sighed. It felt so right, that was the thing. It felt like your body was made to be claimed and owned by him.

"Want your knot," you whined, "please, Alpha—"

"If I give you my knot, you're mine. My Omega. You will never allow another Alpha to touch you. You will not speak to another Alpha, look at another Alpha, even Betas are off-limits. When I bite you, you'll be bonded to me and become my wife, you'll never disobey me or leave me. When I knot you, you'll give me a child. Is all of that perfectly clear?"

It was everything you'd wanted to avoid just an hour ago. Now it was your greatest dream come true. "Yes, Alpha. Yours, Alpha."

"Want to be bred, Omega? Bred by your Alpha?"

"Please!" you sobbed.

"Then keep coming and I'll let you have it soon," he promised. "I'll give you all my come like you need so badly."

You whimpered as your walls seemed to try to suck him in deeper, gripping him so tight that it made his head spin. Orgasm after orgasm washed over you, too many and too numb to count, each part of you slowly stripped away and replaced with pure, all-consuming pleasure.

The base of his cock began to swell and you mewled proudly— that is, until, it just kept growing and you couldn't imagine taking anymore.

"P-pull it out," you begged instead.

"I told you that you would take my knot, was I not clear?"

But you hadn't realized how big it would get, how far it would stretch you— and it was still going. "It hurts, Alpha, please!"

"You'll get used to it, gonna keep it in you all night and give it to you every day so you'll have plenty of practice. Take my fucking knot while I come inside you and breed your cunt."

When his knot finally grew to its full potential, streams of hot come began to fill you, deeper than you had ever imagined possible. It was overwhelming, apparently unending, and one final orgasm rocked your body as you milked his cock for all it was worth.

He wrapped his arms around your body, holding you close and soothing you as you shivered and cried, his kisses trailing up your shoulder to your neck where, finally, he sunk his teeth into your skin and left his mark on you.

Your walls quivered around him at the feeling of being claimed, mated for life. In that moment you didn't notice or care that it was to a man you barely knew; he was your Alpha now, that was all that mattered.

He kissed and licked over the sensitive bitemark, whispering praises your ringing ears couldn't quite process yet.

At least you were getting bailed out a day early.

//

Andy kept his promise about exactly how owned you would be. For the first few months you didn't even leave the house, he was too busy filling you with his cock every day. Although he was happy to claim you anywhere he happened to find you— the shower where he hopped in randomly, the kitchen where he bent you over the counter, the living room where he pinned you onto the couch— his favorite place was the bed. It was rougher and more animalistic in the other places, but in bed he was possessive in an entirely different way.

"My wife, my sweet little wife," he whispered in your ear as he slowly thrust all the way into you, making your back arch until your chest pushed against his. "My Omega. All mine."

"Yours," you agreed.

The protectiveness increased tenfold when your scent changed during pregnancy, even more when you started showing; he was obsessed with the way you looked full of his baby.

As for you, omega life was better than you'd expected. At times you felt smothered by him, but simultaneously you felt worshipped and loved like you never thought you could deserve. He certainly spoiled you, though he expected your unwavering loyalty in return.

That part was easy, though. Love, not fear, kept you in check when other alphas had a wandering eye. They knew you were mated, the bitemark scar (which Andy never, ever let you cover) and ring (which Andy never, ever let you take off) were sign enough along with the change in your scent to them. Occasionally one would shoot his shot and get unilaterally rejected by you before getting his ass kicked by your husband. If only they knew what you'd done to the last alpha that tried to creep on you; how you met Andy in the first place.

In the end, maybe it wasn't so bad to fall into your instincts, your natural role in society. Andy sure made it pretty enjoyable with the way he brought you to the height of pleasure over and over every night. "Mine," he promised you in deep whispers, "from the moment I saw you."

[xlonelysoulxx]

Being a Mermaid and Jacob’s Imprint Would Include... {2}

{gif isn’t mine}

xxxxx

You had disappeared for a whole month. You had only sent Leah a few messages after the incident, to give a sign of life and reassure the pack... which hadn’t helped matters when Jacob found out. "WHY didn't you tell me?!” “You acted like a f*cking jerk, why should I have?" The tension was so overwhelming, to the point where the other wolves must have come between them that day. Leah wanted to protect her friend, and Jacob wanted to get his imprint back. But he couldn't.

xxxxx

You hadn’t planned to come back, not so soon... this is what you had entrusted to the pretty wolf. You wanted to get some distance... away from Forks, from La Push... and from Jacob. You couldn't take it anymore. It was already hard that he treated you so coldly ‘cause he loved one another, but seeing him tear himself apart with his brothers... because of you? It was too much. It had gone way too far.

xxxxx

Grudge and worry kept growing among the wolves even when Jacob were gone, wandering god knows where near the Canadian border. Guilt and pain had kept twisting him from the inside ever since, and hearing the thoughts of his pack... especially when it came to you, had become torture. Even Jared, who had felt at fault at first, only felt annoyance now. Jacob was a ball of nerves ready to explode at any moment, while he was the one who had behaved badly in the first place. Fuck... he could have hurt you?! All because he had let himself be overcome by his emotions, emotions that he wasn’t yet ready to assume out loud.

xxxxx

The feeling of lack linked to the imprint was so strong that it sometimes prevented you from breathing, but that wasn't the worst. It was at that moment... that you realized how much you were in love with Jacob Black.

xxxxx

Even the pull of the bond wasn't as strong as the crack forged in your heart. A gash already wide open over the past few weeks (consciously or not) by the constant presence of Isabella Swan - hunted by Victoria - and now gaping as you left the Quileute... and Jacob, behind you. It was clear, the difference between these feelings - as if your heart and your guts were going in two distinct directions. How stupid you were... as if fate wasn't cruel enough like that.

xxxxx

You were quite surprised to see Alice and Jasper appear at your workplace one morning, a small neighborhood library near Port Angeles. It was brand new, no one knew about it. No one except Alice. Obviously... What were they doing there? You weren't particularly close to the Cullens, but you liked the lil’ brunette quite a bit. Did something happen? Did he... no, Leah would have warned you. Right..?

xxxxx

“He's stupidly stubborn, and guilty. But he's fine... for now.” You no longer understood anything, since when did Alice appreciate Jacob? She didn’t. But she couldn't control her visions. Time was running out. An army was approaching, Bella was once again the center of attention... and the future had darkened. The two clans who called themselves enemies had decided to unite reluctantly, to protect her - but what was your role in this story?

xxxxx

“Don't get me wrong, Alice... I don't wish Bella any harm.” You were boiling from the inside, but Bella wasn't the reason of your pain... Jacob was. You had no animosity towards the young girl, the shapeshifter was mature enough to make his own choices. It was between you and him, and yet. “But you came here for nothing.” You didn't look her in the eye anymore, busy sorting through the same books over and over in your hands. You couldn't believe she had come here just for this. She wanted you to come back to him, so he could come back to her... come back to Bella. To protect her.

xxxxx

Jasper hadn't moved from his place since their arrival, standing proudly straight behind his beloved. He could easily sense your anger, mixed with pain and incomprehension... and just like that, your eyes met his for a long second. “You should listen to her, Y/N.” You could feel a wave of appeasement sweep over you, immediately glaring at the vampire. "And you shouldn’t try to manipulate my emotions, Jasper."

xxxxx

“He won't survive it, Y/N... I saw it.” You could feel your blood running cold through your veins. What was she talking about?? Jacob was actually back in Forks, for more than a week now. But he was a freaking mess. He made sure to stay away from the pack, irritable... unpredictable, and more closed than ever. Quite the opposite of who he really was. You could feel your heart skipping a beat... Alice had glimpsed the impending confrontation, and the outcome had been fatal for the brown wolf.

xxxxx

No, no, no... it couldn't happen. It. Couldn't. The information was too much to handle as you began to hyperventilate like an idiot in the store, Jasper immediately moving to your side. You couldn't let him get killed all this because he was distracted by the whole "imprint thing”, no... you could never forgive yourself for it. You would leave your pride aside without any hesitation for him, everything for him... no matter the welcome you would receive in return.

xxxxx

The car ride was terribly quiet. The battle would take place in three days, so there was no time to waste. Your boss had been accommodating enough to give you your afternoon (he seemed to be pleased by your work, good for you) and this is where you were now... on the road back to Forks, sitting in the back of Alice's car. She had insisted on taking you there given your emotional state, and you were silently grateful for that. You could feel the anguish mounting as you approached the Quileute reserve, unconsciously wriggling in your seat.

xxxxx

“Stop the car.” The air was too thick to breathe, and you felt like you were drowning... there was only one way to fix it. You were close enough now, you could join the reserve on your own... but not right away. You quickly thanked the couple before slamming the door, taking the path to the forest under the worried gaze of the petite brunette. You ran, unable to stop before reaching the impressive cliff... not thinking twice before jumping.

xxxxx

You felt like you could finally breathe again as the icy water came in contact with your hot skin. You haven't been back to the ocean since the incident, and you had missed it - terribly. You could feel a pinch in your stomach as you rose to the surface, quickly looking up as your eyes instantly fell on the huge brown wolf that stood high on the rocks. Jacob. He was there... how?

xxxxx

You dived again after an endless exchange of glances, taking longer than necessary to reach the shore. A part of you feared your reunion, while the other was just relieved and excited to see him again. Jacob had reached the beach at an impressive speed, the shapeshifter dressed warmer than usual while a large jacket and boots complemented the usual shorts specific to all Quileutes. His heart was pounding as he observed the surface, impatiently waiting to see you reappear. Were you even going to do it..? He couldn't believe you were really there.

xxxxx

And you did. Your feet sank into the wet sand as you left the sweet comfort offered by the waves, your long hair sticking to your skin like a second skin. You were completely exposed as the cold wind whipped through your entire body, Jacob's eyes never leaving yours as he took off his jacket… wasting no time wrapping it around you. The distance between you was ridiculously thin now, the silence heavy and comfortable at the same time. There was no room for shyness here, it was Jacob. And despite everything that had happened you had full confidence in him.

xxxxx

None of you dared to speak first... almost like it's going to shatter the present moment, and bring bad memories to the surface. “I was afraid I had hurt you.” He finally confessed, almost shamefully. Start at the beginning, yeah... it was good. “I'm sorry I disappeared... I just panicked.” You answered briefly, but he cut you off almost immediately.“You don't have to feel sorry for anything, Y/N. I should. For everything.”  He really was. He wanted to tell you how sorry he was, how much he had missed you... and how much he loved you. But he didn't have the right. Not now, and maybe never. But repeating it to you, showing you how sorry he was and how much he regretted the way he had treated you... seemed like a good start. He wanted to be the best imprint for you... a friend, a protector. If you wanted him to be. He didn't want to be separated from you like that anymore. Never again.

xxxxx

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the erratic changes in his breathing… and the heat radiating from his body which was enveloping you like a soft blanket. He meant every word. You were sure of it. And it was, indeed, a good start... yes. It was like a silent acceptance, like a secret language between the two of you... your throat tightening a bit before you wrapped your arms around him.

xxxxx

Jacob automatically tightens his embrace around you, selfishly accepting the gesture of affection you both needed so badly. He trapped your body against his, resting his chin against the top of your head as you stood on your tiptoes... inhaling his scent. There he was, alive and safe in your arms... and that was all that mattered right now. And you were going to make sure that it stays that way, no matter what.

xxxxx

But fate wasn't so lenient, you should have known that... it didn't rest only in your hands. Cruel reality exploded in your face that day, Jacob's scream echoing through the entire clearing at the same time as the sound of his ribs being broken by the newborn vampire. It all happened so fast. Leah had found herself trapped in the deadly embrace of one of them, Jacob had intervened... and now he was writhing in pain on the ground.

xxxxx

You had joined him in a few strides, stumbling alongside him as your heartbeat echoed through your ears. Carlisle stood by your side, examining the extent of the damage before the other members of the pack arrived in turn. His voice was twisted in pain as he tried to pronounce your name, squeezing your hand in his before the other wolves surrounded him to pick him up - Paul reluctantly pulling you away from your imprint. Tears filled your eyes, so much so that you hadn't even seen Bella arrive… the obvious horror on her face. How could this have happened? You thought you could change Alice's vision, you really believed you could... but you obviously failed. Literally.

[natashxromanovf]

Sorry about the earlier one 😅 it was supposed to be a nat x reader with the blurb “Call me when you get home, so I know you’re safe." For the plot like friends to lovers or even platonically? Which ever you feel comfortable :)

Mesmerized

Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Word count: 568

Warnings: mild swearing, a lot of dialogue, friends to lovers

A/N: I didn’t even use the prompt it’s just simply friends to lovers uehfhbeuheqicnjic😭 But anyway, thank you for the request! I strongly hope this doesn’t suck too bad.

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You've liked Natasha for as long as you can remember. She’s perfect - on the outside and the inside. Some may not agree with you, looking at her past but she’s a different person now. Of course, she has flaws as does everybody but in your eyes, she’s everything and more.

“Y/N? Are you still with me?” Natasha asks, waving her hand in front of your eyes to bring you back from whichever planet you were on. Blinking a couple of times you wake up from daydreaming, looking at her as to say ‘what did I miss’.

“Sorry,” you mutter, offering her an apologetic smile.

“What were you thinking about?” she questions, her nosy self just needing to know.

“Nothing,” you lie, looking away from her. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna tell her who you were thinking about; her. She and her ridiculously perfect emerald eyes, her shiny red hair, and those red lips that you want to kiss so badly…

“Y/N!” Natasha shouts, you stirring a little as you realize what you were doing again but how can you not when she’s just so damn beautiful. “Okay, that’s enough. If you don’t tell me who got you to fall head over heels for them, I’m gonna call Wanda and make her come here to go into that messy head of yours and take a look,” Nat threatens, her face as serious as it can get. You shiver a little because damn can this woman be scary sometimes.

“Okay. Fine, I’ll tell you! It’s this very pretty girl,” you start, already grinning wildly just thinking about her.

“Ohh, what does she look like?”

Your smile fades momentarily, thinking about whether you should tell her or not. Honestly, it became tiring to have to hide your crush. And even though you may just destroy the best friendship you ever had, you’re done hiding. “She is the most beautiful girl I ever met. Every time I look into her eyes, my heart warms up because of the way she looks at me, it’s like she saves that one special look just for me. She has the warmest smile that can brighten up the room, always lifting the mood simply by existing.”

“She sounds amazing. Tell me more,”

Sighing you close your eyes, your mind traveling to all of the possible outcomes of your confession. “It’s you, Tasha,” you finally say, looking away from her, preparing yourself for the worst. But instead of rejection, she takes your hand in hers, her other one cupping your cheek, turning your face to her. There’s a wide smile evident on her lips, a slight shade of pink coloring her cheeks.

“I like you too, dummy,” Nat confesses, a sigh of relief escaping you.

“Really?”

“Really,” she affirms, a giggle leaving your mouth. Looking at her red lips you inch closer, mesmerized by her beauty.

“Nuh-uh, dinner first,” Natasha prompts, stopping you just a little before your lips could connect with hers. You groan, a pleading look on your face, the kind that a child has on when they want candy but their parent won’t buy it. A laugh tears through the silence, the most adorable one you’ve ever heard, but is it even a surprise? Everything she does is adorable.

“Fine.” you give in, pressing a sweet kiss against her cheek instead. “Tomorrow, 7 pm. Don’t be late,”

“It’s a date.”

I hope you enjoyed this! As always, feedback is very much appreciated <3

[dxmmymxmmywrites]

Old Flames

Tsunade Senju x F! reader smut

Warnings: cursing, angst at the beginning, oral sex, scissoring

Very excited to be writing for my bi-awakening queen Tsunade 🥰🥰🥰 love her so much, she needs more content AND appreciation

This is also less smutty than I usually do, so I may come back to this later when life allows to add more to the spicy bits

The sky is dark with the coming storm when you make your walk to the Hokage’s office. It’s the perfect environment to match your inner turmoil, broiling over with too many uncertainties for your liking.

You kept away as long as you could. And honestly, it probably wasn’t the best decision. Now you were just angry with yourself for not coming sooner and so sexually frustrated you could palpably feel your need aching between your legs.

You had done whatever you could in your early days as a Kunoichi. You had always been a little power hungry, but with a desire to actuate positive change in the leaf village. It had led you through to an established reputation as a feared ninja across the Shinobi nations, and along the way you had manage to leave some good behind you.

For some, it had to be hard to imagine you as a naive young woman in your youth. You were hardened by the world quickly, but it didn’t stop you from holding your favorite people very close to your heart.

The new Hokage happened to be one of them. Tsunade Senju.

The two of you had grown up with the same peers, and had observed each other from afar when you were placed in your Genin teams. When you did interact more often, you became quick friends and confidants— two hotheaded and insanely smart girls that were ready to encourage the other to take on the world.

It was a brighter time, before tragedy had shaped you both. Tsunade losing both her brother and promised lover nearly destroyed her, and you did what you could to comfort her when you could.

It became a new way to bond with her teammates, as you all took the time to check in on her, but it would shape your view of Tsunade most.

Despite everything, she still held so many qualities you admired despite losing her faith for some time. She was a damn hard worker, brilliant as ever, and had a kind soul once you got past her shell. It made you weak every time you thought about how you realized your feelings for the first time.

It was a classic case of someone falling head over heels for their best friend. With this of course came the companion cliche of not wanting to ruin your friendship by confessing your love in any way. So you kept your thoughts to yourself as long as you could.

And it was painful. But eventually, they came to a head at the worst possible time— when Tsunade was preparing to leave the village.

Although... the outcome initially was not as bad as it could have been.

You convinced her to delay her exodus for a week. That entire time, the two of you were nearly inseparable. And you fucked like raving animals.

It was a life changing event for you— enough to cement the fact that you, indeed, loved women. But most of all, you loved her.

At some point after an exhausting collection of rounds in bed, you had known your time with her was coming to an end. You couldn’t stop the years even if you tried, because in that moment life sucked and it wasn’t fucking fair that you couldn’t keep anything good in your life.

You had been so tired then, but you have vague memories of her holding you close, and her velvety lips kissing your tears away. It made her absence the next day all the more painful.

She had left at some point in the night when you fell asleep, thought she could never tell you how long she waited in the window before leaving you. You had woken up a love in her unlike any other— and it terrified her. She had lost enough people already in her life, so she followed what her heart told her was the best course of action; leave, before you’re broken again.

It hardened both of you emotionally. Everything was a threat, nothing worth letting down your walls for. While she abandoned her ninja way for years, you clung to yours with everything you had. It might have paid off, but what worth did it have when at home you sat by yourself, when your select companions were away?

You thought of her every night all the same. Sure, you could enjoy others from afar as you once did, but no one was her. No one could ever fill the void she did.

And little did you know, when you least expected it, she would come parading into your life again.

You hadn’t thought Jiraya would be successful in retrieving her, as cynical as it may sound. But then there she was, accepting her role as Hokage before the village in all her fame and glory like she was born to do it. And you had never been so proud, and had never wanted her so badly than how you did in that moment.

Even with the time apart, your reunion was not as horrendously awkward as it could have been. You greeted each other as old friends, and within the week you became one of the honored members of her council. No one bat an eye at this, because you had earned the right to the seat three times over. But Jiraya did grin when Tsunade announced your appointment.

And life went on. It wen on. And on. And on.

And it drove you insane.

Your friendship rekindled in a way you had not expected at all. And she never even mentioned anything regarding your week together before her disappearance.

It pissed you off how unbothered she appeared by it. You bickered like an old married couple and defended each other like the war heroes you were, but goddamn it did you want more validation than a fancy new job where you got to eyeball the woman you had been in love with for most of your life.

So onwards you went to the Hokage’s office. You would settle this, and you would settle it that night if it was the last thing you did.

If anyone notice your darker mood, they steered far out of your path as you travelled. It wasn’t as late as it could have been, so Tsunade would mostly likely still be at work in her office. Later in the day was usually when Shizune could successfully corner her to do paperwork anyway.

Inside the building, you begin to hear the echo of rain from outside.

You take the precaution of knocking on her door with the formal greeting, and she allows you in.

She smirks at you and prepare a remark— but you don’t let her start.

“We need to talk.”

Her expression becomes stern instantly. “What’s wrong? Any threatening reports?”

You cock your head at her, then shake your hands “No, no, this isn’t about work. This is personal.”

She couldn’t have looked more confused if she tried. However, she did remain silent, so you continued with your thoughts. And you locked eyes with her.

“Are we ever going to talk about what happened when you left? At all? Or did it mean nothing to you?”

Her eyes widened, but knowingness came to them. “I didn’t think you would—“

“Whatever you think I just need to hear the truth.”

“I think that—“

“And don’t bullshit me on feelings—“

“Damn it Y/N, shut up!” Tsunade rose from her desk, leaning over it. Her irritated look is intimidating, but you know better.

A quiet moment follows, but your voice betrays you. “I just need to know,” you admit, sounding more defeated than anyone— especially Tsunade— had probably ever heard you sound.

There’s a part of Tsunade that’s fuming at being interrupted so many times, undoubtedly. But some aspect of her fury is doused when she sees how dejected you look on the other side of her desk. She didn’t think she had ever seen you look so small, and like you wanted to curl into yourself.

She never wanted you to make yourself lesser around her. The thought of you being in pain when she fled...

Emotions were swirling within her like a maelstrom.

“Come here,” she commands. She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to.

Anyone else would have gotten a snide remark addressing you like that. But you walk until you’re directly in front of the desk, and she pushes her chair out of the way to stand before you.

When she stands fractions of an inch away from you, your heart rate quickens. The intensity of her expression is almost scalding. But it is not angry.

You open your mouth to speak again, but she breached the gap between you. Both of her hands grasp your face in such a mash of assertiveness and tenderness— but what knocks the breath from your lungs is the powerful kiss.

You wish you could say you responded immediately, but you were so shocked all you could do was tremble. Eventually, you felt her hands slink down to tenderly hold your neck as her tongue slipped past your lips.

Part of you wanted to fight her off. To get the last word in, or have the last snappy response. But you couldn’t fight how badly you wanted her to tighten the grip over your windpipe.

“I have never forgotten you,” she pants when gasping for air. “Not even once.”

She dives in for another kiss, and this time you have no regrets about giving in to it. Her hold around your neck tightens, and she’s upon you in an instant. Years upon years of tension and unsaid affection finally come crashing together in an emotional storm akin to the one outside Tsunade’s doors.

Just as she presses her chest to yours, her tongue slips into your mouth and you can’t help but to groan. However, you’re not one to give in so easily— and neither is she. Your sharp nails run over clothed back enough to give her goosebumps, and she reciprocates by sliding her hands into your hair to firmly tighten her grip. In the moment, it’s almost like neither of you need to breathe— your tongues dance in unison and all you can feel is the building heat in your gut as you melt into the other’s touch.

When you finally do part for air, she grins, devilishly.

“I see you still have a dirty mouth.”

You can’t help but turn red. “Shut up and get on the desk.”

That does catch her attention— it had been a while since anyone had the balls to mouth off to the Hokage. It was sexy as hell... and it made her recount all the reasons she fell for you in the first place.

She does step back to sit on the desk, and you follow after her just as she perches like a cat, eyeing you with ample amusement. Just as you set your hands beside her waist and lean in, she pulls at the wrap of her tunic and opens her strong legs.

“Are you going to stand there Y/N?” She purrs. “Or are you going to actually do something?”

It makes your blood boil, but you can’t help the excitement that comes from wrapping your arms around her again. She melts into your kiss the same way you did with hers, but your head starts to swim when you feel her legs wrap around your middle. Who in their right mind wouldn’t let their hands wander to glide up her thighs, listening to her moan, to firmly squeeze her love handles before returning the love to her ass?

You certainly were not going to waste the opportunity. And an opportunity you make it.

And despite being the one above her as you gently push her down against the desk, you melt into her kiss all the same. You throw one knee onto the desk to steady yourself enough to lovingly stroke her sides as you begin to nip marks into her neck.

It makes the grips her legs have on you all the more constricting. She rolls her hips upwards deliciously into yours, leaning to expose as much of her collarbone to you as possible. Any control at that point is abandoned— you nearly purr as you kiss and suck as much exposed skin as possible.

Who would have thought you would have the chance to hear her lovely voice again, much less her tantalizing moans.

“I think I may be one of the only people alive that can say I’ve knocked one of the Sanin on their backs,” you muster with confidence, and give her a sly grin.

There’s a slight glare from her, but she snorts all the same and chuckles. Tsunade raises forward and takes your lips with hers once more, pushing you to climb all the way on top or the desk.

Neither of you can fight the passion between you any longer. Your gasps and moans become louder, and the two of you begin to strip between feverish kisses and gropes. And not a single ounce of self control remains between you when Tsunade peels your underwear down your legs.

It’s like a volt of electricity goes through your body when she unabashedly spreads your legs and licks a stripe up your wet cunt. Her searing gaze locks with yours as she moves her mouth, and your eyes roll backwards when she plunges her tongue directly into your core.

It makes you squeal but she holds your thighs in place as you shake— and there was no way in hell you were getting out of her grasp. You wouldn’t want it any other way.

Her tongue swivels inside you and laps at your insides, stoking every ounce of pleasure out of you that you could think to feel. She remains as unashamed as ever, relishing in the wet noises of your arousal as she begins to thumb your clit and slurp your building orgasm.

You chant her name over and over as she tastes you— ravished you— but in an instant you tap her three times with your pointer finger. Your old signal to stop during sex makes her pause, not just to respect your boundaries. It feels odd to remember an old habit again.

She looks to you for an answer, and you order a smile. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

She grins, but before Tsunade can counter your remark you offer her a hand to pull her up to you. Quickly, you wrap your legs around her middle and shift your weight, putting her beneath you (despite having to save her from nearly falling off the desk.)

Who knows how many people would give their all to be in your position, crawling over the fifth Hokage, trailing your tongue up from her center. Tsunade looks just as pleased, watching you navigate her skin with a hunger you’ve only ever seen her display at war.

And a hunger she proves when she locks her tongue with yours again.

Your bodies writhe against each other with the most tantalizing friction, and you can feel her legs begin to quiver. “Y/n,” she starts, and trails away.

There’s not much you can imagine she would want to say in this moment. “What?” You ask her.

And she smiles at you. The genuine smile you fell for over and over again in your youth, and the one that lingered in your head for years on end.

“I love you. But hurry it up.”

It’s as close to endearing as she would be willing to get, but it still makes the heat in your face reappear. And it ignites the final fuse in your cunt.

You reach to hold the back of her head gently, just as she licks your bottom lip. She practically purrs your name when you put one of your knees beside her waist, and ease to lay your other leg flat.

It’s like electricity across your skin when you finally get to move against her this way. The two of your bare, sloppy cunts squelching together as you both bucked into the other.

You had to touch her everywhere. You could feel the tingle in your spine, and the insatiable desire to lick her and massage her breasts. She was everything you had every wanted, and everything you had ever wanted to fight for.

The gods themselves would have to pry you away from her now.

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Lost Objects - 7

Lost Objects:  A Thor Fanfic

Lost Objects Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Thor x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  2294

Warnings: Nothing for this chapter

Synopsis: Thor has lost a lot in a very short period of time and he’s worried about losing himself too.  He goes to the one person who understands loss.

Chapter 7

After Thor had told Loki the whole story of everything that had happened since Loki had taken the Tesseract and run, marking the point this Loki diverged from Thor’s life, the trickster god had been quiet and introspective.  He wandered around the large space that made up your cottage on the hill, inspecting the hoards of items that had found their way to you.

He didn’t participate in any further discussion about how Mjolnir might be repaired, and he’d wander off and return at random intervals.  Over the course of the day, Thor found him gathering a strange collection of items together by the couch he’d been sleeping on.  Thor didn’t take a very close look but he did notice a collection of jewelry with large crystals in the settings, some pressed flowers, a collection of mismatched jars, some half-melted decorative candles, and a collection of keys.

Thor was suspicious of his brother.  He’d learned from experience that he should always expect even the least possible outcomes when Loki was around, and this particular version of his brother was the one who still had raw and open wounds from fighting with his family and finding out the truth about his heritage.  Thor left him alone though, most of his attention turned to the repair of his hammer.

There was talk about going to Nidavellir.  There were many reasons that that might not work.  For starters; it was a lot to ask of Eitri now he was alone and without the use of his hands.  Besides, the dwarf had already made one weapon for Thor, and Thor was reluctant to ask for more.  Even if he did, it wouldn’t be quick.  A new mold for Mjolnir would have to be made, and the forge would need to be repaired.  Thor was fine with staying and helping as long as he could, but he couldn’t expect you and Loki to do that.  Not to mention, if he did that, would it even be Mjolnir anymore or just a new hammer made from the old metal?

The other option was to see if it was possible to repair it here using a mixture of each of your abilities.  You seemed to think it might be possible by using Loki’s magic, your powers to gather lost objects, and Thor’s lightning.  The question was if it was possible to hold all the tiny fragments in their correct place and would it be weaker due to the thousands of joins?

“It’s your choice, Thor,” you said.  “She belongs to you.  Only you can decide how to repair her.”

He looked over at his brother, he’d returned to the couch with another assortment of items.  This time he seemed to add a leather-bound notebook, an ancient-looking quill, and some equally ancient coins.

“I suppose repairing it would be best,” Thor said, finally.  “If that fails I can always take the pieces to Nidavellir, but repairing it here will be something we can try sooner, and it would mean that it would be my Mjolnir.  Perhaps not as pristine as it once was - but I am a little worse for wear too.”

You leaned over and kissed him gently.  “I will miss you when you leave.”

“Who said I was leaving?”  Thor asked.

You shrugged.  “You’ll wither if you stay here with me.  You know that as well as I do.”

Thor didn’t say anything for a moment.  He did know it was true, but he wasn’t ready to go yet, and he dreaded leaving you now that he’d found you.  “Well, not today,” he said brightly, breaking the silence.  “Loki!  Brother, come here.”

Loki slunk into the room and looked him over.  “You summoned me,” he deadpanned.

“You know that’s not how I meant it,” Thor argued.  “I just wanted to speak to you about Mjolnir.  Do you have a spell you can use that will help us hold it together?”

“About that,” Loki said, taking a seat.  “I’ve been considering your -” he waved his hand around as he tried to summon the correct word.  “- Circumstance,” he settled on eventually.  “I want to gift you this -” he flicked his wrist and seemed to reach into space itself before pulling out his horned helm.  Or at least one of them.

“What would I do with your crown, Loki?  I have my own helm,” he asked.  “Though I do appreciate the gift.”

“I don’t expect you to wear it, but it is Uru and it was crafted in Asgard.  It contains its own magical properties that might be useful,” he said.  “If we melt it down, you can use it as the glue to hold Mjolnir together.”  He waved his hand again like he was trying to avoid something unpleasant.  “Besides, I have many.”

Thor was genuinely touched by the gesture.  Tears pricked his eyes and he went to pull Loki into a bear hug.  Loki was ready for him though and he pushed his chair back, avoiding the embrace.  “Control yourself, brother,” Loki teased.  “I’m not done.”

Thor looked at him curiously, picking up the helm from the table and turning it over in his hands.  “What else have you been scheming?”

“Scheming, brother?  That makes it sound so base level,” he said.  “But I have been working on something.”  He paused and tapped his fingers on the table like he was considering how best to phrase his plan.  Thor was used to that look, it usually meant there was some trickery to it, and Loki was considering his words carefully so that no one would notice.

“The tale you told me of your life since we diverged,” Loki said.  “It touched me, brother.  It is tragic that you should have to live your life without a version of me in it.  But you and I both know, I cannot stay here.  The TVA will be looking for me as we speak and they are not bound by barriers of time or space.  And the whole reason they arrested me in the first place was due to my universe hopping.  I need to keep moving.  So… I believe that the three of us together may be able to create a device - a key - that if used will bring us back together.  Then you will not have to worry about living in a world without my presence.  Won’t that be nice?”

Thor didn’t respond.  Partly due to the shock of the offer.  It appeared completely selfless.  Loki and Thor had been close as children but that had been a long time ago, and as much as Thor had wanted to maintain his relationship with his brother, it had always been a struggle.  Yet here was Loki - the version of Loki full of the most rage and hurt - and he was offering an olive branch to him.  Was there some kind of plan he was cooking up and Thor would inevitably be burned yet again, or did his brother pity him so much that he’d offer him this one small thing?

“Loki, if this is some trick...”  Thor warned.

“You wound me, brother,” Loki said, putting his hand on his heart.  Something in his face changed and his whole demeanor shifted.  “Not to get sentimental on you or anything, but … I worry about you, brother.  What you’ve been through… If having a way to contact me will give you some relief, then it is a minor inconvenience to me to do so.”

Thor nodded and put his hand on Loki’s shoulder.  “I thank you.”

“And… I can make one for this -” he waved his hand at you dismissively.  “If you would desire.  Then when you decide you’re ready to continue your adventures, you will have an instant portal back to her.”

Thor couldn’t hold back, he grabbed Loki’s arm and pulled him into a tight hug.  Loki sighed as he let his brother hug him and then slowly pushed back.  “Yes, yes, I am wonderful,” he said.  “No need to crush me.”

“How did you propose we do this, Loki?”  You asked.

The three of you moved outside.  While Thor lit a fire and burned it hot enough to smelt the metal of Loki’s helm, Loki set up the things he had gathered together.  He’d created a circle in the clearing using the items he’d been collecting in the house.  He had pulled the gems from their respective pieces of jewelry and set them up around the edge of the circle.  There were three pieces of amethyst spaced evenly apart in the circle’s edge and sitting on each piece was a key.

The circle’s center contained the tray where Mjolnir’s parts lay and beside it a glass jar that already held an ancient coin.

“How fare thee, brother?”  Loki asked.

“Almost ready,” Thor said.  “What would you have me do with it?”

“Just leave it.  When it’s liquid - assuming this works - it will be called during the spell,” Loki said.

Thor watched as the last of Loki’s horned helmet collapsed into the molten pool of metal.

“Now, you -” Loki said, gesturing to you.  “Come by me.  I need you to tap into the power you use when you’re sending things back to their rightful owners.  Only think about returning Mjolnir to Thor as it would look complete.”

You nodded and moved next to Loki.  “Thor - you stand here.  I need you to think about how badly you wish for your hammer to be returned to you, and how much you both believe in and feel for your lover.  When the time comes, you will need to summon forth a lightning bolt.  It needs to be powerful and after it hits Mjolnir, I need for it to split and hit each of the keys.”

Thor moved beside Loki, so you were each standing around Mjolnir in a small circle within the larger one.  Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He began to read from the notebook he had collected.  He spoke an ancient and primitive tongue that even with the power of Allspeak Thor had difficulty understanding.  It was a language that went back to the beginnings of the universe when his great-grandfather Buri ruled the vast emptiness of space.  He dropped some dried flowers into the jar as he spoke, they sparked as they fell and landed in the jar burning with an emerald green flame.

Thor turned his attention to you and his hammer.  Wishing for its return while also basking in the love he had for you and his faith in your abilities.  Your eyes began to glow, deep gold and wisps of the golden light leaked from the corners.  Loki tore off a sheet of paper and dropped it into the jar with the coin and the flowers and he waved his free hand.  Green light swirled out from his fingers and around Mjolnir and both the handle and the shards began to drift up into the sky.

As Loki continued to read and drop different items into the jar, the feather from the quill, herbs, drops of wine and more sheets from the book the light that emitted both from him and the jar grew brighter.  The gold that you emitted increased too and the two colors mixed in the air around his hammer as it began to form the shape he recognized.

When it looked like his hammer, Loki gestured to the molten metal on the outside of the circle and beckoned to it.  It rose in a long tendril of glowing red liquid and floated to the hammer, seeping into the cracks and sealing them together.  Thor began to summon the weather, his eyes leaking blue plasma adding to the green and gold in the air.  As the last of the molten metal disappeared into the Hammer, Thor called forth a bolt of lightning.  It shattered through the air with an ear-splitting crack of thunder.  When it hit Mjolnir the whole thing glowed red and was swallowed but a flare of gold, blue, and green light.  The lightning forked into three, each bolt passing through a person before hitting the keys on the ground.

Everything turned white, and as the color gradually returned to the world Thor held out his hand, and Mjolnir flew into it.

The hammer had changed, no more was it unblemished.  The silver face was marked with a web of gold that made it more beautiful than ever.  It had been healed and while it carried scars, it now glittered with them.

Thor held it against his chest.  “Thank you, brother,” he whispered.

Loki smiled and touched Thor’s arm softly.  “Don’t get all weepy on me,” he teased.

You went and collected the keys up from the circle.  “Did it work?”  You asked.

Loki took them from you and closed his eyes as he clutched them in his hand.  “I believe so,” he said as he opened his eyes again.  “They have been charged with each of our magic, along with Mjolnir’s.  Our magic connects them, they are ours and ours alone.  But with your ability to call to you what is lost, and Mjolnir’s ability to be called by its rightful owner - when we wish to see one of the others we only need to call to them as we use the key on a door.  It will open that door directly to them.”

Thor pulled both you and Loki into a tight embrace.  He had never been so thankful for something Loki did, and he was glad to have his brother back in his life again.  This felt like a turning point.  A way for him to be truly happy again.  “Come,” he said, as he loosened his grip.  “Let us feast together.  We have much to celebrate.”

// NEXT

[nol-an]

it was good until it wasn’t || n. patrick

inspired by the prompt, “please don’t make me choose.”

2k worth of A N G S T!! um yea haven’t written in over two years and this is my first hockey fic so bear with me. feedback is always appreciated! (this is not proofread and im sure there are probs some plot holes- oops)

__________

For so long, everything had felt too good to be true. Nolan finally accomplished his dream of playing in the NHL, and you had gotten into your dream school in Philadelphia. To you, there was nothing more important than pursuing a career in the medical field and being able to do that with Nolan on your side.

At times, the long study nights, missed plans, and occasional stressed-induced breakdowns made you question if you were ever going to meet your end goals. That feeling was definitely not foreign to you, but it didn’t necessarily make coping with the thought any easier. It was a weird feeling — four years of undergraduate school almost felt like too much yet not enough time. There was so much you wanted to accomplish, and you sometimes wished you weren’t so ambitious because the days where you felt incapable of being successful were the days that you wanted nothing more than to wallow in your fears alone.

Luckily for you, Nolan was incredibly understanding of your fears. While he knew his life as an athlete was drastically different from your life as a student, he tried his best to understand your thoughts and always told you how much he admired your drive to reach your goals. No matter how often you tried to internalize your emotions, Nolan knew better and never hesitated to be your rock. Be it in the form of verbal or physical reassurance, his presence radiated a sense of comfort that always brought you out of any illusion of doubt you may have conjured. 

He doesn’t tell you enough, but you have a similar effect on him. Your gentle touches, cute pre-game texts, and warm hugs never fail to bring a smile to his face. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s not quite sure what he would do without you. It’s not really a thought he has to worry about, though, because for what felt like a blissful eternity, the stars aligned for you two. There were undoubtedly times when Nolan and you would run into disagreements, but the desire to make things work seemingly mended any issues in the relationship.

That was, however, until everything seem to come to a head. With your MCAT exam date approaching very soon and Nolan’s season with the Flyers starting just as quickly, it was hard for the two of you to bask in each other’s presence like usual. It wasn’t something either of you really noticed, as you both understood how important the other’s career was. You knew how important this comeback season for Nolan would be, and you tried your best to let him know that you would support him no matter what. He didn’t have to say it, but you knew a lot of doubts were rushing through your boyfriend’s head and you almost mistook his increasingly reserved demeanor as nerves. 

In fact, you didn’t really give it much thought until Nolan came home from his fourth game of the season. As badly as you wished you could have attended, the remaining hours you had to prepare for the MCAT were previous and you reassured Nolan that you would be his number one cheerleader again as soon as you got the dreaded test out of the way.

Your nose was stuffed into a psychology textbook until your trance was broken with the slam of the front door to you and Nolan’s shared apartment.

“Hi, baby,” you greeted as you got out of your seat to hug your freshly-showered boyfriend. If the sound of the front door was any indication, you had a feeling that the game didn’t go as desired, and you didn’t want to push any touchy subjects. On more than one occasion, Nolan had told you how much he liked how he could escape from hockey in your presence. He loved that he could escape from that part of his life, loved how you made him feel like a normal guy. You thought this would be one of those nights where even the word “hockey” wouldn’t be uttered, but you were wrong. So wrong.

“You’re not gonna ask how the game went?” Your boyfriend pressed, his tone bitter. Pulling away from your hug, he turned his back to you all too soon and he walked towards the kitchen.

“I-I mean, you know I’m always here to listen about your games, but I just thought you wouldn’t want to talk about it?” you meekly replied, unsure of where he was going with the conversation. 

You weren’t entirely sure what the outcome of the game was, but you were definitely confused. Nolan usually didn’t like talking about the Flyers’ losses, but you were so sure something went wrong based on his dramatic entrance into your shared home.

Prompted by his silence, you continued, “Um, so was it a win?” you uttered, regretting your words as soon as they slipped off your tongue.

Slamming his water bottle on the countertop, Nolan’s actions caused your words to dissipate. Silence filled the room, the tension almost palpable.

“Well you would know if you were there, wouldn’t you?” he replied, clearly annoyed by your seemingly stupid question.

Alright, so definitely not a win.

“Nols,” you tried to reason, “You know I wanted to be there so badly, but I couldn’t. The MCAT is almo-” you were abruptly cut off.

“I know. The MCAT is only two weeks away and it’s super important for you. It’s been the same thing for weeks now, you don’t have to remind me,” Nolan finished your sentence, his monotonous and resentful tone making it clear that he had already heard the same words from you numerous times before.

Had it not been for this same tone, you would have brushed off his comment. You would have instead attributed his harshness to tonight’s loss, which would have been the third one in a row. However, his response felt condescending — like he was downplaying how important the MCAT actually was to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you quipped. It felt like you just recited the most cliche line in the book, but your brain and heart had already started functioning at two different rates. If you attempted to say any more, your stress from the upcoming exam mixed with the rising argument you sensed would have surely sent you into a pool of tears.

“It’s just exhausting you, know?” Nolan started, “I know you’re busy with your own things, but it sucks seeing all of the other guys getting to hug their girlfriends and wives at the tunnel at the end of games while I know I can’t have the same with you. I mean, is it so much to ask of you to just be there for me? How am I supposed to believe that you want the best for me when you aren’t even acting like it?” he argued.

“‘So was it a win?’” he bitterly recited your earlier question, scoffing at it. “You could have at least Googled the score and pretended like you were keeping up.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your confusion immediately turned into anger and shock — you thought Nolan, out of all people, would have understood your situation. Not being able to wrap your head around his current state of irrationality, it felt like hours passed before you willed yourself to reply.

“I've attend almost every game of yours. I’m sorry I haven’t been so good at that recently, but you know how much I want to do well on this exam,” you seethed. 

You were trying to stay level-headed, but anger consumed any possibility of making the discourse calm. “My life does not revolve solely around your career, and I’m sure as hell not going to always be able to put my life on hold to make sure I know what the scoreboard of every game is.” You couldn’t help but let every one of your words become coated in frustration. You thought everything you were saying was so obvious, and you couldn’t help but become more upset with the fact that you even had to reiterate these points to Nolan.

“Sometimes it feels like I’m not even dating someone,” Nolan dryly responded. “Feels like all you do nowadays is drone on and on about this test. Is this what the rest of our relationship it gonna be like? I mean, I can’t imagine what things are gonna be like once you’re in med school,” he hastily commented, pacing around the kitchen.

Every one of his words felt like a punch to your gut. His words hurt more than your face let on, every instinct in your body asking —no, begging— you to flee your current predicament.

“I don’t know what to say,” you truthfully replied.

“Is there even room for me in your life anymore?” he questioned, adding fuel to the fire. “It feels like I’m always second to your fantasy life as a doctor.”

This was your last straw. Sure, you could have tried to see the validity in his initial argument if you gave yourself time to cool down. But now, it felt like he was mocking you. The same person that made your goals feel attainable was starting to break down your confidence. The confidence that he helped you construct was now crumbling, brick by brick.

“Nolan, you mean so much more to me than that. Please, I would never want you to feel this way, and I know we can work this out we just need to tal-” you were cut off once more.

“I don't know if I can do this anymore,” he cryptically stated, letting your worst fears fester around the kitchen that felt way too cramped now.

“Nol, please,” you pleaded. Your anger immediately shifted to dread.

“I want you to achieve your dreams more than anything, but I don’t know if I see myself in these future plans if this is what the rest of your career is supposed to be like. Do I even have a place in your future plans?” Nolan sighed.

Your stomach dropped. Even though he didn’t explicitly state it, you knew what he was hinting at. It was your career or him, and he was making it clear that having both in your life wouldn’t be feasible. As if he pulled out the last brick, you finally let all of your walls down. Tears freely flowed down your face, as you tried to convince yourself that you were hearing wrong. You wanted to scream it at the top of your lungs. Of course you saw Nolan as part of your future. Hell, he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. However, his seeming disregard for your career aspirations was off-putting and made you reconsider everything.

Your eyesight, blurry from your tears, tried to focus on the hockey player. Your dejected state urged you to reason with him, but you were unsure of what to do.

“Please, Nolan. Please don’t make me choose,” you pleaded. In comparison to your vulnerable state, Nolan was composed. It was as if he rehearsed this, his blank stare void of emotion. You tried to come closer to him, but his body language told you that your touch wasn’t welcome.

“I don’t have to,” Nolan pushed himself off the counter, “The fact that you don’t already know your answer already tells me what I need to know,” he stated. Grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter, he headed to the front door before you could gather your emotions and form words.

Your anger, confusion, and hurt seemed to weigh you down, gluing your feet to the ground. As much as you wanted to stop his exit from the apartment, your body kept you in place. With a second slam of the front door, the gust of wind from the heavy door whiffled through your long-forgotten textbook, the sound of the pages ruffling mocking you. The silence following Nolan’s exit was deafening. You never thought Nolan would make you choose between your relationship with him and your career. You thought you knew a lot of things about life, really, but this was certainly something you were not prepared for.

Your world was spinning, orbiting into a field of anguish and heartbreak. As if your brain hadn’t quite registered the turn of events, you almost thought about calling for Nolan until you were cruelly reminded that reaching for him was no longer an option. Your rock was gone, and you were lost.

[longlivefeedback]

I spent three months working on my fic. The art is also amazing. And just 7 kudos. Shortly after, a fic appeared, that was literally a copy of MY fic and badly written, and just 1000 words, and this fic have more kudos now. I really want to cry

I’m sorry Anon. This may sound like impossible advice and is really just random words from a stranger on the internet that doesn’t know anything about you, but the best thing I would encourage you to do is to stop comparing your worth to others.

We live in a world of numbers where “value” is measured by views, likes, clicks, and any other metric companies can think up and put on a UI. In a world of Instagram influencers, Big Name Fans, and the Twitter-famous, we’re being told that bigger is better, more likes means more love, and the more interactions you have, the more important you are.

Do not do this with your writing. I get it. The AO3 stats are Right There. Front and center. Unignorable. Writing is lonely. It feels like screaming into the void, and after all that work, surely someone will give you the validation you deserve, right? After all, that other writer and their work got it. So why not me?

It’s not wrong to want that, Anon. It’s not wrong to love and share and want that love reciprocated. I would argue that it is very very human, and a very beautiful thing that you are reaching out, labouring over something you love, putting a bit (a lot) of yourself out there, hoping for some of that love back.

But as long as you’re always looking over your shoulder, always wondering why them and not you, why do they have more more more, why why why...you’re never going to be happy. And if this is the situation you find yourself in with your writing, I’m afraid that it will destroy your love of writing.

I’ve seen it happen. Writers turning bitter. They get angry. They get disappointed. They start asking questions. “Why can’t readers comment?” “Why don’t readers say anything?” “How do I get more kudos/comments/hits?” And sometimes they stop writing. They stop doing the thing they love. They stop creating. Why write and post when no one is going to appreciate it?

There’s really only one person whose answer matters: You.

When it comes down to it, You, the author, are the only person that should matter. How do you feel about your writing? Did you tell the story you wanted to tell? What did you learn?

No one is going to love your story more than you. No one knows your story better than you. No one knows the bits that made it in, and the bits that didn’t. No one really knows which parts you struggled with, which one caused you the most tears, which ones you’re the most proud of because it was so hard for you to write.

Every time I see a fic I’m in awe. Because it’s a labor of love. It’s something someone tried, something someone wanted to do, regardless of the writer’s skill, experience, or English proficiency. It’s something someone created, for fun or as a way to heal. It’s part of them and their own personal journey in this funny thing we call life. It’s something they decided to spend what precious time we all have in this world on and it’s what they’ll leave behind. It’s beautiful because it exists and You made it. And if you are the only one who sees and appreciates that. So be it. It’s your writing. It’s a bit of you. Will you really be happy if everyone else loves it except you?

So find your reason to write. Try not to let it be something that is dependent on things you cannot control and the numbers attached to it. Aren’t you a little tired of being constantly measured, compared, and criticized because what you did isn’t big enough or loved enough or good enough? Why can’t the pure act of writing just be enough?

If you’re still reading this and are thinking to yourself, “easier said than done” or “it’s all very well for me to say these things, but what can you actually do about this” then maybe here are some things you can try to distance yourself from the addicting pull of the numbers popularity game:

1. Take a step back - Try to be self-aware and realize what your expectations and goals are when you post a fic. I would refrain from an outcome that you cannot control. Number of hits/kudos/comments are things you cannot control. Who reads your fic and what they say are largely things you cannot control. What other writers post and what their readers say are things you cannot control. Realize that there’s always going to be a “bigger” and “better” fic by the numbers. There’s always a bigger fish. Don’t fall into the trap of measuring the worth of a fic, and by extension yourself, by numbers that you cannot control.

2. Find a friend - Someone whose feedback you cherish and who can laugh and cry with you and give you that feel good feeling we get when we share things, the communal creatures that we are. Share your love with them and have fun!

3. Participate in an exchange - Much easier to feel happy about a response to a fic when it’s specifically made and targeted to one single person. As long as that person likes it, mission accomplished! Also, exchanges usually have a community (fellow participants, mods, betas) for the event who can give you feedback as well. It’s a pretty good way to make some new fandom friends too!

4. Get feedback from the right people - If you are looking for feedback to improve on your writing, try to find someone whose opinion you respect and who you can build a relationship with. Constructive criticism is often very personal and takes a lot of trust between the giver and the recipient. It will take some time to build enough trust with a beta/friend/reader, so be patient with them, yourself, and the process. If you are able to build enough trust with someone you want feedback from, I find it helpful to be specific when you ask for feedback: “The pacing feels off here. What do you think?” “Can you help me show XYZ? I want it to feel like ABC.” “Does A seem to be too childish here?” “Is B acting out of character?” “Is there too much description on this page and did you lose interest?” Take their feedback at face value and try to keep an open mind. Communication is key to any relationship and it is no different with something like this.

5. Write, but do not post - Write your fic. Create. Put it down in words. But if you can’t stop yourself from constantly comparing yourself to others, don’t put yourself in that position. Just don’t post your fic. Let it sit in google docs, Word, or whatever word processor you used to bring your thought to life. Don’t gamble your happiness on things you can’t control. Find another reason to write.

Be honest with yourself about why you write. Try to stop comparing yourself and your fic to others. Don’t let something that should bring you joy be a source of sorrow.

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

Not dead yet!: Marking my 2-year anniversaries

On Sunday I marked my two-year “cancerversary” of my diagnosis and on Tuesday a member of the support group I co-founded (for young women who are stage 4) died. Like me, she had triple-negative breast cancer. Like me, she was diagnosed stage 4 two years ago. Like me, she had exhausted several types of treatment (because triple-negative is a beast) and was looking for the one that would work. She asked me about Saci (Sassy!) and proposed trying it to her doctor less than a week before she died. Nine days before she passed she joined our Sunday cancer yoga group from bed at the hospital to join our meditation exercises. Like me, she remained confident and positive and absolutely refused to give up hope. (Like me, she also wore her hair purple sometimes.)

There were many things that are unlike about us too. She had two teenage children who now don’t have their mother. She was twelve years older than me and had had Hodgkin’s before she had breast cancer--even worse luck than mine, to triumph over one cancer only to get this diagnosis. Unlike me, she wasn’t strong enough for Saci, the only targeted triple-negative line of treatment, because her body had reacted badly to immunotherapy. She was in the hospital for two weeks with somewhat mysterious symptoms all of which added up to her body shutting down. On Saturday she went home with her family in hospice care. 2 days later she was gone.

It’s not usual for things to go so fast. Typically, doctors, patients, and family members all have some advance warning and patients spend a solid amount of time in hospice care. I am sure that people will ask me why it went that way for her. I’m asking myself why too, since it is so shocking and so entirely unfair. The fact that it can happen that way at all is frightening to me as a fellow patient since it’s the scenario of nightmares. That really could someday be me. No one ever wants to think that--and I cannot live my life focused on it either--but it has to be acknowledged as a possibility.

[More below the cut about memories from 2 years ago today and hopes for the future. Also, an invitation to contribute to some writing if you want.]

Today, January 28th, is the 2-year anniversary of my stage 4 diagnosis. In a way, it feels more significant than my initial cancer news. I had four days being horrified, but thinking that I would get through this as a phase in my life. It would be terrible--I’d have a double mastectomy, scorched-earth chemo, radiation, anything to get rid of the cancer--but then it would be done. On the Monday following my first set of CT scans I learned that that was not true. My lungs were full of tumors. (Later, after lots of waiting, MRIs and biopsies, I'd find that my lymph nodes, spine, and liver were affected too. I still have tumors in all those locations, but no new ones.) I wrote a description of getting that news in an email to a friend over the summer, after I had read Anne Boyer’s "The Undying”:

“The worst part about the lung tumors for me was that my dad had gotten a very early flight and I learned the news while he was in the air. My mom told me we could not text or tell him on the phone, that he would need to be with us both. So I drove to Newark straight from the doctor's office. It was in the teens outside and windy as we slogged to the baggage area where we were to meet. I saw my dad in his warmest and ugliest puffy orange down jacket, looking small in it, forlorn and horribly vulnerable. I fell into his arms, thinking at least that airports were such horrible places, so impersonal and banal, that no one would look twice. 'It's in my lungs,' I said into his shoulder so that I would not have to see his face. I was crying into the jacket that somehow smelled of winter cold even though he had been inside for hours. 'Please, Daddy. Fix it, please.' I spoke like a child because, on some very deep level, I think I really did still believe that my father could fix anything. I was embarrassed, though, and so I tried to stem my tears as he put his big hand on the back of my head and said, 'Oh sweetie, we'll get through this. We will.' I knew that really he could do nothing--and that this was his nightmare of powerlessness--and so I sniffed and blinked and I did not let myself cry again until June.”

Two years later this moment seems as if it just happened. The impact of my diagnosis on everyone dear to me, and especially my parents, is one of the worst things about it for me. We all know that there’s only so much “better” I can get, with the current science, and we’re all playing for time while the research moves forward towards something better, something that would make this a treatable chronic condition. I go back and forth, emotionally, on how likely I think that is and how good my position is for the future. Right now, comparing myself to the group member who died, I feel relatively fortunate, even as chemo exhausts me, I lose every scrap of hair that was ever on my body, and I spend half of my days being almost unable to eat from nausea and loss of taste. I feel glad that I was able to get Saci, that my body has so far stood up to the ceaseless trials I have put it through, with four treatments and surgery (and full-time work and living alone etc. etc.). I feel strong, not scared, even as I feel the emotional toll of terrible loneliness from covid isolation, winter, and carrying a sick body through my days alone.

I do not love the “fight” metaphor because so much of having an illness is completely out of your control and I never want to take myself (or anyone else) to task for “losing.” And so instead I will praise my body for enduring. I will praise myself for my enduring also, in both an emotional and physical way. I checked back in on how I was feeling as this anniversary approached last year and was pleased to see how much better I feel about it now, partly as a function of being in a treatment that is (likely) keeping me stable rather than in the midst of choosing another new one. Here is what I wrote back to my group of friends in November 2019, the run up to the one-year mark:

“I’m feeling like I can’t plan and don’t want to celebrate, like I can’t perform “fine” for the people in my life to spare them from the pain I’m causing by not doing better and feeling horrible about it. Perhaps it would help if I let them know that they didn’t need to perform “fine” for me? I understand the desire to protect me from the obligation to take care of them and appreciate it. But sometimes it can feel like I’m the only one experiencing anger or grief or pain, though I know I’m not. Feeling so isolated in my emotional response provides no catharsis for it. Compassion and sympathy function on the notion of “fellow feeling.” If you’re just out here, feeling by yourself, you can’t expect any comfort. As always, I think of the moment in the Iliad when Priam and Achilles cry together over dead Hector. Grief (and you can grieve for many things aside from a death) is something explicitly to be shared.” So I guess I’ve shared it here. I can do that. And I can do another thing, which is to tell you I love you. People don’t really say it enough and reserve it too entirely for romantic contexts. It’s weird--it’s not like we are wartime rationing love! And every time anyone says it to me it helps. It’s an affirmation that I am integral in some way to people’s lives which, in a society that so greatly valorizes marriage/partnership and children, is something I can be in doubt about.”

There are some things I like here, though, and that I would now like to reiterate and invite you, my far-flung friends, to do for my 2-year milestone. Never has the notion of “fellow feeling” in times of grief and depression hit harder or been more important than during covid. In a way, the nation (or even world) was forced into much the same position, emotionally and practically, that my cancer put me in. People are isolated, unable to perform “fine” and wondering if other people feel the same way, or even if any of us can take care of each other at all. I am here to tell you that you can. Maybe not immediately but--sooner than you think--you can. Emotional reserves may be low but reaching out to support someone else can actually replenish them. You do not have to feel alone, or to feel, alone.

And for me, for this milestone and for the cancer-related depression that I certainly do have, I’d like to invite you to help me, so that I can do the same for you. I invite you to write something about how this milestone feels for you (either about me or not), how it relates to all the other insane things going on in the world or with you (not about me at all), how you felt on the original day when I shared my stage 4 diagnosis (definitely about me)--really anything that is on your mind or in your heart.

“Oh great,” you may think, “the English PhD has asked us to do homework!”. But no! It's up to you what you do. Write in whatever form you want, however long, even anonymously. And if you do I will write you back! Not with grades or comments, but with something to connect to what you shared. It is a way to create fellow-feeling; to open up, connect, heal. With me, yes, but also as the group of extraordinary people who have gone with me so far on this hard road. It’s a very different proposition to support someone through time-limited treatment with a good outcome than it is to sign on for whatever comes next. You are all, truly, pretty extraordinary.

Anyone who wants to send a note or reflection can email me or drop a file or post in this Google drive folder. Like I said, feel free to share whatever and do it anonymously if you’d rather. You can also askbox me here (better than DMS) or submit a post to this blog. (I'm taking a chance with open DMs for now...we'll see if that needs to change.)

I am grateful for all of you every day, but especially today.

Love, Bex

p.s. The title of this post refers to the cinematic classic "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," a film my high school self and friends loved. They, along with other wonderful folks. gave me a "cancerversary" cake with "Not dead yet, motherfucker!" on it this Sunday. p.p.s. The average life expectancy for people who get this diagnosis is 18 months to 3 years. Hitting 5 years would be extraordinary. Starting Year 3 is a huge deal and I have every intention of being extraordinary. (Never been average at anything in my life...I either succeed spectacularly or fail epically!)

[auncyen]

So a long time ago I wrote a start of a fic where Ryuji gets knocked out from Shido's explosion and is thrown back into the real world, unconscious. Ren brings him to Takemi's clinic and then answers Ryuji's phone when he realizes Mama Sakamoto is calling, attempting to make some kind of cover story for Ryuji not coming home or answering his phone before it becomes apparent she ID'd Ryuji from the video calling card. She's coming over to the clinic, and she wants answers.

AND THAT'S WHERE IT STALLED FOREVER. If anyone would like to take a look at what I have of part 2, where she gets to the clinic:

Ren was in the middle of sending an update to the group chat when the door to the clinic opened. The woman who walked in was short and dark-haired, and Ren had the split-second impulse to ask her if she had a real emergency--god knew he didn't want anything drawing Takemi's attention away from Ryuji right now--before her eyes landed on him with a look of such contempt that Caroline might have asked for tips.

The text for the group chat was forgotten. It would have only been to report that there was nothing to report yet. "Sakamoto-san?" he hazarded, his voice wavering.

"Where," she said flatly, "is my son."

He didn't know why it should have thrown him off so much that her hair wasn't bleached blond--of course it wasn't. But even besides that, she really didn't look like Ryuji at all. Short, somewhat stout, with a wider nose and other differences in the face...when it came to looks, Ryuji must have taken after his father's side.

Ren immediately knew he'd rather eat one of his daggers than say that to either mother or son.

"Sakamoto-san," Takemi said, emerging from the back. "Your son is in here. He suffered a concussion and Amamiya-kun brought him to me for examination." Her tone was a bit more polite than her usual, if still casual, and Ren appreciated that maybe she was trying to pull his fat from the fire.

"I want an explanation for all of this," Sakamoto-san said angrily. "...But I want to see him, first."

Ah. Now Ren saw the family resemblance, both in her expression and her protectiveness.

Takemi nodded, opening the door for Sakamoto-san to go in. Ren started to rise from his seat, wanting to see Ryuji himself, but a flat look from the doctor stopped him cold. She didn't want him following.

Logically, he knew Takemi was simply keeping things orderly and controlled. Ryuji's mother was upset, and Takemi knew she was mad at him already. Better to keep him out of the room if Sakamoto-san might take any of Takemi's news badly.

But the feeling that stirred in his gut was blame and guilt, making him cover his face with his hands after the door had closed. He felt sick.

He couldn't deny his responsibility. It had been his idea to stall in the safe room instead of immediately stealing Shido's treasure after Futaba broadcasted the calling card. If stalling had been the deciding factor in Shido being able to manipulate his own cognition and cause the violent collapse... Then it was completely his fault.

He shouldn't even care about what Ryuji's mother thought of him, anyway. That could wait until after Ryuji had woken up. But the cold way she'd looked at him hurt, pathetically enough. He'd really hoped that she would like him. Mostly because Ryuji was afraid she'd be upset when he came out to her--she'd asked a couple of times about him getting a girlfriend. Ren was hopeful, considering she'd supported her son through thick, thin, and hair bleach, and might only be asking about girlfriends because Ryuji was way more vocal about his interest in cute girls than cute guys, but he understood Ryuji's fear. There was always the chance that it would be the one thing too far. So he'd wanted to make a good impression on her when they met, hoping it'd help her accept it better whenever Ryuji was ready to come out.

But Ren had also just...selfishly wanted Ryuji's mother to like him. He'd wanted to make a good impression on her because Ryuji always lit up when he talked about her, and she sounded like a great mom, and Ren wanted someone like that to look at him and think that he could be a decent match for her son. That he was a good kid.

Well. He'd fucked that up already. He pressed his fingers against his closed eyes, forcing a deep breath as he tried to press the tears back. This wasn't the time for being weak and selfish. He had to worry about Ryuji waking up first. Then he could worry about making sure Ryuji wasn't grounded forever, and that he wasn't strangled for endangering Ryuji.

Except that still left him with nothing he could do for the time being.

He felt so useless. He wished he could have taken Ryuji to Shibuya station. If he could have just gotten him to the entrance of Mementos with Morgana, the two of them might have been able to heal Ryuji. But they hadn't been sure if cognitive healing would help when someone was plain knocked out cold in the real world; bringing him to the clinic had seemed the safer bet. But now...

Ren groaned. First he'd left Akechi behind a solid wall of metal on a ship that was now sunk. And now, Ryuji...

Takemi was speaking to Ryuji's mother in the room at length, and Ren rested his head against the wall, hoping to hear through it. Good news? Bad news? He could only hear her tone, calm and level. Takemi wasn't the type to sugarcoat, but she still highlighted better outcomes when they were possibilities to her patients. She'd said once that people often had improved outcomes if they were given attentive care and thought they should get better. She called it a placebo effect. Morgana called it the power of cognition.

But since Ryuji wasn't conscious, he didn't know he was being treated by one of the best doctors in Tokyo. That he should get better and just please wake up.

Ryuji's mother didn't seem any happier when Takemi opened the door for her to step back out into the waiting room. Ren felt his whole body stiffen when Takemi closed the door again, half-expecting to be screamed at, but Ryuji's mother just stared him down. When she spoke, her voice was tightly controlled. "So you're the leader of the Phantom Thieves. What must your parents think?"

"My parents?" he echoed.

She laughed, but it sounded more disbelieving than genuine. "You think they don't know? I recognized Ryuji plain as day under that weird skull-mask. Yours shows even more of your face. Do they actually approve of all this?"

That was a question he hadn't even considered recently, and he weighed what honest answer he could give her that didn't sound self-pitying. No, he didn't think they knew at all. They didn't have reason to look at the calling card too closely. Didn't have any suspicions about his after school activities, or any clue that he wasn't even in school for the time being. Ryuji's phone had several voicemails from his mother tonight alone. Ren's phone hadn't rang once tonight, and it had been a while since he had gotten a message from either his father or mother.

He was taking too long to answer; something in Sakamoto's expression shifted. "I don't have their approval," he said quickly, before she could get further upset. "I act for my own sense of justice."

"An' you dragged Ryuji right along into it," Sakamoto said.

That wasn't quite accurate, but Ren nodded anyway. "...Yes." It had a grain of truth to it: Igor had given the app to him. Ryuji would never have been thrown into the metaverse if he hadn't run into Ren. And it would be better to just get this over with. Take her anger and her blame. It was his fault she was upset.

Ryuji's mother took a long, deep breath. "What happened?"

"It's...hard to explain."

"Sure, you steal hearts and desires and whatnot. I still want an explanation," she pressed.

...He had no idea if she'd be patient enough for an explanation of the Metaverse. He'd bet on not. So he described the situation in broad strokes: "The group was in trouble. Ryuji took a risk to get us out safe. And he pulled it off. We could have all ended up dead if it wasn't for him." Futaba didn't know how to swim. Even for the rest of them, the waters had been turbulent enough that Ren didn't think their odds would have been good, not when they'd also had to navigate to their entrance point in the dark of night, already exhausted from a grueling fight. Perhaps some of them would have made it out...he doubted it would have been all of them. "But he got hurt. I'm--I'm sorry. It's my fault we were in that position."

"Why?"

"I...made the group wait before we changed Shido's heart. I was hoping..." Ren's voice shook, and the rest of the words failed to come.

He'd been hoping Akechi would show up. If Akechi had been alive, no matter if he was hiding somewhere in the Palace or trying to stay under the radar in Tokyo, as soon as they'd took over the airwaves with their calling card and set the Palace's security to high alert, Akechi would know. He would know they were taking Shido's heart. He would know that they would be in the Palace.

He could have joined them. So Ren had asked everyone to wait for an hour in one safe room as he warped between all of them and entrance, checking to see if Akechi would manage to drag himself in. Ann and Ryuji had both volunteered to help, and he'd been grateful, but he figured it was better if everyone else stayed together so they weren't split up between several different locations. When he hadn't spotted Akechi in the hour, he'd come back to the group and asked Futaba if she could do a scan for him--a last-ditch request, since she had every right to refuse to help.

Futaba had looked absolutely miserable. She'd already tried multiple scans. There was nothing. Ren had made everyone wait for nothing. He should have known it was too much to hope after Akechi had closed himself off behind the door. He'd only given Shido more time to counter.

"We were missing one," Ren said finally. Maybe Akechi would have objected to being counted as one of the group, but it was the simplest way to explain now. And he...wasn't going to object, anyway. "I made the group wait, but they never showed."

"They in some kind of trouble?"

The question surprised him a little, but this wasn't a subject he wanted to dwell on any longer. "Nothing I can help with," Ren said.

-and that's it so far.

And I'm just kind of......unsure where to go from there. Which makes me wonder if I should have started the dialogue differently or change something else earlier or...what.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

burned

prompt: burned

whumpee: neal caffrey

fandom: white collar

hi! this fic does kinda mess with the meaning of the prompt...i went with “burned out” as a kind of interpretation bc i wasn’t feeling plain burns...anyway this might kind of suck but maybe it won’t? idk. enjoy??

Neal doesn’t know how long it’s been since he last slept. A few days, he figures, but that’s as precise as his burnt-out brain will allow him to get. He feels dead on his feet, but he’s doing his best to make it seem like he’s fine. 

“Morning, Peter!” he calls out to the agent, hurrying into the elevator behind him. “Beautiful weather today, huh?”

Peter looks at him, eyebrows raised. “Since when do you talk about the weather?”

Since I’m pretty sure if I stop talking I might fall asleep right here, Neal thinks. “Can’t I appreciate a little sunshine?”

He hopes it’s sunny out. Truthfully, he’d paid zero attention to the weather on his way to work this morning. It had been enough of a thing just getting his arms and legs to move when and where he wanted them. 

“You can,” Peter replies, as the elevator arrives. “Just didn’t seem like a very Neal topic of conversation.”

He shrugs, breaking away from Peter to make a beeline for the coffee machine. As he well knows, the coffee is fairly terrible, but it wakes him up marginally, so that he feels almost alive when he sinks down into a chair along with his fellow members of the White Collar division, listening to Peter give a morning briefing about their case. 

Neal doesn’t pay much attention. He knows this case inside and out, has been studying it virtually nonstop for the past...however many days it’s been since he last slept. He can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop working on it. Something about it begs his full attention, and he knows part of it is just the constant desire to have Peter approve of his work, but there’s something else about it, too, something uniquely compelling, and he can’t bring himself to stop working on it, no matter how hard he tries. 

He can, however, not pay attention when there’s a whole room full of people talking about it. 

“Neal?”

He’s thinking about the strange lack of suspects, the high-profile witness…

“Neal. Neal. Hello? Neal.”

Finally, he snaps out of his thoughts. “Yeah?”

Peter shakes his head. “Never mind.” 

Neal tries his best to pay attention to the rest of the briefing, but it’s nearly impossible. The coffee is already wearing off, his eyelids feel like they’re made of lead, and his sluggish mind is currently only capable of focusing on one thing, which happens to be his own thoughts about the case, and not whatever it is Peter’s saying. 

The briefing ends, and Neal moves to stand up, sitting back down into his chair when a wave of lightheadedness hits him, at the exact same moment that Peter says,

“Caffrey. You stay back a minute.”

Neal looks up at Peter, who is now standing over him, looking very menacing. 

“What did I talk about in that briefing?”

He rubs a hand down his face, tries to focus his eyes, tries to focus his brain. He has absolutely no idea what Peter had been talking about. 

“The case?” he suggests, yawning with a force that makes his ears pop. He wishes his coffee cup wasn’t empty, wishes he had the strength to go refill it. 

“Nice try, Neal. What about the case?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters, sensing there’s no way around this. 

“Why not?”

He doesn’t want to admit it’s because he’s too tired to think. Doesn’t want Peter to know how much he’s been focusing on this case, which in the grand scheme of cases isn’t even that special. He doesn’t want Peter to know that he’s beyond exhausted, completely burnt out, and seemingly incapable of stopping to rest, for reasons unknown even to himself. 

“I was thinking about something else,” he says.

“What were you thinking about?” Peter asks, and sits down in a chair next to him. 

He shakes his head. “Nothing in particular. Just not very focused this morning. Sorry.” It’s as close to honest as he thinks he can get. 

“Can you look at me?”

What?

“Neal. Look at me.”

He raises his eyes, staring at Peter’s chin. 

“In the eyes, Neal.”

Very slowly, he meets Peter’s eyes, which scan his face with an intensity that really makes him want to look away. 

“Did you sleep last night?”

Neal looks away then, embarrassed at having been read so easily. 

“Neal. Have you slept at all in the past 24 hours?”

He shakes his head, blinks hard to force away the tears that, for some inexplicable reason, are forming in his eyes. He is so unbelievably tired, and he wants to sleep, kind of, and if he says that, Peter will just ask, why don’t you sleep? But he can’t sleep, he’s thinking too much to sleep, needs to solve this case too much to sleep, has to solve this case to prove something that he doesn’t have a name for, to himself, to Peter, to someone…

Peter’s hand is on his shoulder, steady and warm. Neal wants to lean into it, wants so desperately to stop, just for a moment, and rest. But he can’t. He pulls away, stands unsteadily, hand braced against the table when black spots dance in his vision. 

He makes for the door, at what he assumes is a normal pace, but by the time he gets there Peter is blocking the way. 

“I can’t -” he starts. “Can you move, Peter, please?”

Peter shakes his head. Neal wants to push him out of the way, but senses that’d be a bad idea. “Please just move.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on with you. Why haven’t you been sleeping?” Peter asks, and his voice is horribly gentle and concerned and it makes the tears rise in Neal’s eyes all over again, and he can’t do this, he can’t - 

Peter’s hands are touching his arms, and there’s a silent kind of question there that Neal can’t bring himself to answer no to. He takes a shaky step forward, and then Peter’s arms are around him, and he can’t remember the last time he was hugged like this, and before he can stop himself or think the better of it he’s crying, really crying, face buried in Peter’s shoulder, and Peter is letting him cry, Peter is holding onto him, and then he’s gently sinking them to the floor, which is very welcome to Neal’s exhausted body. Peter’s hand moves in gentle circles on his back, and he’s saying things that Neal can’t quite hear, but his voice sounds kind and comforting, and Neal focuses on it for all he’s worth.

He has no idea how long they stay there, but at some point, he just stops crying. Peter lets him pull away, until Neal’s sitting back on his heels, feeling strangely more awake. “‘M sorry,” he says quietly, voice still thick with tears.

“What are you sorry for?”

He almost doesn’t speak, again. But he’s already cried on Peter’s shoulder, and it doesn’t get much more embarrassing than that. 

“I...haven’t slept in god knows how long. A few days? At least? And I don’t...don’t know why, it’s this case, but it’s not even that special, but something about it...I don’t know, I just...I just have to solve it, and I can’t stop thinking about it and I can’t sleep until we solve it…” he trails off, lost for anything else to say. 

“Neal,” Peter sighs, equal parts exasperated and fond. “We can solve this case.”

Neal shakes his head. “I need us to solve this case. Not just have the possibility to. I don’t know why, I just...need us to solve it.”

“And we will. But how are we supposed to do that if you’re too burned out to even pay attention during my morning briefing? I need all the members of my team at 100%, Neal, and like it or not, we’re only going to be able to solve this if you get some sleep.”

He...hadn’t really considered that. Hadn’t considered that his well-being might affect the other members of the team, might affect the outcome of the case…. He’d thought it was worth exhausting himself, if only to let himself figure this case out faster, but he has to admit, Peter may be onto something.

“I didn’t think about it like that,” he confesses. “I was just so focused on solving this case myself...I didn’t think about anything else.”

“You can’t let yourself do that, Neal,” Peter says, standing up. He extends a hand down to Neal, who takes it gratefully, leaning on Peter for support when they’re both back on their feet. “Not just because it makes our work harder, but because it’s hurting you. Regardless of whether or not having you exhausted makes us a worse team, it means you’re hurting. I don’t want you hurting yourself for a case, no matter how important it might be for you.”

Neal feels himself hovering on the edge of tears again, a combination of his reaction to Peter’s words and an effect of the sheer exhaustion weighing down on him. Before he lets himself get all weepy again, though, he takes a deep breath, and focuses as best as he can. 

“Thank you, Peter,” he says, hoping that his sincerity comes through the tiredness in his voice. 

“You can thank me by letting me drive you home,” Peter says firmly, checking his watch. “El’s at work, but she’ll be back around four-thirty. I’ll be back after five. And in the meantime, you can lie down on our couch and sleep.”

Neal is slightly baffled by this, but too tired to question Peter as the agent leads him out of the room. The Burkes’ couch sounds nice, if a little odd - why not his own couch, at his own house? But the Burkes’ couch is easy to fall asleep on, anyhow, and in a place that makes him think of family and safety and warmth...if Peter wants to take him there, he’s not going to object. 

Peter drives them to his and El’s house in a comfortable silence. Neal leans his head against the window, breath fogging up the glass, mind for once not on the case. There will be time to solve it later, he thinks, and wishes he had realized that sooner. He’d just been too caught up in it, too focused, to let himself rest. But now that that rest is being forced upon him, he’s realizing how badly he really wants it. 

A few minutes later, he’s lying on the Burkes’ couch, a warm blanket thrown over him and Satchmo asleep on the floor next to him.

“El will be home -”

“Around four-thirty,” Neal interrupts Peter, words slurring as sleep begins to take him over. “And you’ll be home after five.”

His eyes are closed, but he imagines Peter waving goodbye from near the front door. “Sleep well, Neal,” Peter says, and the door closes and locks. 

For the first time in days, Neal sleeps.

thanks for reading this!!! like i said i have no idea if it sucks ass or not but idk i cannot deny it was like real cathartic or some shit like that to write...whatever lmao. hope you enjoyed anyway!

[puckyess]

Love Her Like I Didn’t Part 2 | Owen Lindmark

Sorry it took so long, enjoy! Italics means in the past. See if you can pick out the lyrics I used for this one.

*** FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED ***

Words: 2.5k

Shared with one person: “Y/N”

Owen felt all of the color drain from his face. How could he have made that mistake? Maybe it was his subconscious trying to help him out, maybe it was fate he didn’t know. All he did know was that you now knew his true feelings.

“O?” Your voice was small, afraid that you had been dreaming and he hadn’t just confessed the words and then some that you had waited all this time to hear.

Owen cleared his throat and tried to slow the panic rising in his chest. “I think we need to talk”.

“Can I - Can I come over?” You hesitantly asked. You hated that you had to ask now when months ago you already knew the answer. Regardless of Owen’s reluctance to put a label on things, you always knew you had a home at his place. He had stated it many times “what’s mine is yours” and apparently that applied to his heart as well. But now you had to question it, wondering if maybe you should meet somewhere more neutral.

“Please” he breathed out and you could’ve sworn you heard desperation and relief in his voice like he had been waiting for you to ask.

—

The minutes it took to get from your place to his seemed to feel like hours. You had made this drive so many times before, at all hours of the night and morning, each time feeling alive and excited for who was waiting for you on the other side and yet this time you felt dread. No matter what the outcome of this trip, someone was going to get hurt.

You couldn’t believe the amount of things he had noticed about you during your time together. He was paying closer attention than you thought. From how you curated your playlists to how religious you were about washing your face, even remembering all the times you had tried to tell him you were too tired. What really threw you were the amount of things he knew about you that you hadn’t even realized about yourself until now like how many times you were left feeling satisfied after trying something new with him, but rarely would do so on your own or how him playing with your hair was calming and could put you to sleep. You recalled many nights where you called him stressed about something and he would come over and run his fingers through your knotty hair until you fell asleep. Even more so, he wrote about things you didn’t know he did like defend you when you weren’t around and put his trust in you. So if he really loved you like #20 said, then why couldn’t he trust you with his heart?

—

Owen paced on the other side of the door awaiting your arrival and tried to prepare himself for what he was going to say to you. He couldn’t lie anymore, not now especially with what he had sent you. But he was terrified of what could play out in the next hour. You guys hadn’t ended on the best of terms and from what little you had said to him on the phone, you sounded upset with him, rightfully so. On top of that, you were with Shay. There’s no way you could possibly want him anymore he kept telling himself. He had to prepare for heartbreak, he couldn’t expect anything to come from this. And yet his heart leapt when he heard a soft knock on the door.

“Owen” was all you said when he swung the door open. With one word and the sight of you, his heart broke all over again. Your voice was thick and he knew you had been crying. Proof of that were the still wet streaks glistening on your beautiful face. Despite the tear stains, you still looked better than he had imagined. You had taken care of yourself and it showed. He stood in the doorway, taking you in before he moved to the side and allowed you to come in. As you breezed past him it took everything in him to not wrap you in his arms and hold you there forever, inhaling your scent that he missed so much.

You stood in the middle of his apartment not really knowing where to sit and again, you hated how things had changed. Owen sensed your discomfort and quickly gestured for you to sit. “Make yourself at home” he said sincerely. You took a seat on one of the barstools at the island of his kitchen, needing some distance between you and him even if all you really wanted to do was get as close as you could. He situated himself across from you, leaning on the countertop, trying to make himself comfortable in his own home.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He offered.

You smiled to yourself, always the gentleman. “Owen, that’s not really necessary. You know why I’m here” and you held out your phone, setting it on the granite, the list that you had already committed to memory, still open.

He fidgeted and nodded, deciding where to start. “You were never supposed to see that” was probably not the best opening line, so he settled on “Even though I didn't mean to send that to you, I don’t regret it”

“But why, Owen? Why were you sending it to Shay? And what am I supposed to do now? You obviously know we’re together, and now you drop this on me?”

He winced. Hearing you say Shay’s name and how it held new meaning made his stomach turn. “I don’t know,” he said running a hand through his hair. “I really don’t. I just saw that picture of you guys and I just kind of lost it” he said with a shrug. He said it so simply, as if that made perfect sense.

“What picture?” You asked though you already knew the one in question. The one of you and Shay in the middle of KK where you had just come from, leaving a very irritated looking Shay behind.

Pulling out his phone he quickly typed in the passcode you knew by heart and with one tap the picture you had in mind was now flooding the screen in front of your face. You stared at the picture and the first thing you noticed was the fake smile on your face. It was empty, forced. You hadn’t wanted to take the picture in the first place, knowing he would post it and knowing a certain someone would see it. “It’s too soon” you kept telling Shay but he wouldn’t listen, just wrapped an arm around you and turned you toward the camera.

“I told him not to post that. I didn’t want to take that” you admitted, knowing it would cause questions. But you wanted him to ask.

And just like every other time, he did exactly as you wanted. “And why is that?”

“I think you know why, Owen.” a hint of wistful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t”. He did, but he wanted to hear you say it. He needed to hear you say it. Shay wasn’t him.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

“Why did you do it, O?”

He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “I just told you why-”

“No, why did you cut me out? Why did you end things the way that you did? And say all those things if this is how you really felt?” you practically begged for answers to questions you’ve been holding onto for so long now.

Owen grimaces, replaying his last words to you like he had been since that night.

You had been looking at him in a different way all day and he knew it was because you were debating whether or not to bring up the subject of the previous night’s almost slip up. You were also waiting to see if maybe he’d say the words, sober. He couldn’t take it anymore so he confronted you head on. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m just having fun. That’s all this was. We’ll hang out tonight, fool around and then tomorrow we’ll be done. If you want more than that then you’re wasting your time. I know what I want and I made that clear to you when we first started. I’m doing just fine here with our arrangement, if you’re not then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this anymore”.

The words were harsh and he knew it, but he needed to make sure he got through to you, that whatever damage he did sent you running away from him. He just hadn’t expected it to send you running into the arms of his teammate. The thought alone had him asking questions of his own, without answering yours.

“How did you move on so quickly? I never should have said what I said and you know how I feel now, I didn’t mean any of it, but what about you? You turned to Shay and never looked back. I’m glad you’re happy, you deserve that, but shit. I just - I never saw that coming”.

Despite how badly you were hurting right then, you laughed. “Never looked back? O, that’s the farthest thing from the truth. Do you wanna know what’s funny?”

His brow quirked and he hummed in response.

“I had made a list for you too. After we...ended things. I thought maybe it would help me let you go, you know, move on. But I think it made me hurt even more when I realized how much you had become a part of my life, how well I had gotten to know you and that I wouldn’t get to know you anymore. And how someone new was going to get to do that and easily fill my place”. You were looking down now, shoving your phone in his direction across the counter, everything about to be out in the open.

He makes a noise, almost a scoff. “That’s the problem, Y/N. No one can fill your place. Something I realized well before making my list but was too stupid to admit out loud”. He shakes his head at himself as he picks up your phone. He gives you one last look as if to make sure you’re okay with him reading your thoughts. You nod and he sucks in a breath, reading the first few lines:

If you’re reading this, you’ve managed to do what I couldn’t. You must be really really special, but so is he. While I couldn’t get him to love me the way he loves you, I did love him with all I had. Despite him not loving me in the way I wanted him to, he is without a doubt the most loving person I know. He has such a big heart and deserves someone who can love him equally as well. Please take care of him.

He’s so hard on himself and pushes himself to be the best at everything he does. Don’t let him pick himself apart. Help him to see the good in what he does because there is so much of it.

Losses are hard, don’t force him to talk about them until he’s ready. (Desserts make them a little better)

But also make him stick to his diet. He’ll try and sucker you into letting him have a cookie or two or three. He’ll regret it when he’s skating at practice the next day. Resist those puppy eyes.

He loves shoulder massages, pay special attention to his right. I know he hurt it last season and wouldn’t get it checked out and now it still bothers him.

Make an effort to get to know his family, siblings, cousins, all of it. He values family so much.

He loves when you play with his hair and massage his scalp. If you let him lay his head in your lap when you’re watching a movie and you do this, he’ll be out in seconds.

He often gets talked over in a group setting. Please make him feel heard.

He’s so so damn stubborn. Sometimes it just isn’t worth the fight. Know when to pick your battles

He needs his sleep, don’t let him stay up late, even to talk to you. He’ll say it’s fine and that you’re worth it, but he’ll thank you the next day when he has to be up early for workout.

Speaking of, he is the worst at waking up to his alarms. Make him set a few extra just to make sure he doesn’t oversleep

School is important to him. Don’t let him prioritize you over his studies. Because he will.

He gets jealous easily, but it’s not you he doesn’t trust. Make him feel secure. Praise him, tell him why you’re his.

He gets so many DM’s, believe him when he says he doesn’t read them. When he falls, he falls hard. His attention is all yours.

Treat him like you would any other guy. He appreciates realness. He doesn’t need you to idolize him or treat him like some celebrity. He shouldn’t have to feel like he has to play some part when he’s with you.

Hockey is his world. You may feel second to it, but you have to let him live his dream and pursue it. Encourage him, be his biggest fan.

He’s careful with who lets into his circle, make sure you are too. You have to look out for his best interest when it comes to friends. Don’t let him feel like he’s being used.

Don’t laugh at his dancing, dance with him. He loves it.

Don’t make him pick between you and his friends. Hang out with the boys and his friends back home, they’ll have your back.

He has a story that’s unique and worth hearing. Really take the time to get to know him, to ask questions, show that you care about more than just hockey.

Take care of him for me. His heart is so big, don’t take advantage of that. The best thing I ever did was love that man. Cherish the laughs and touches, the sweet gestures and heated stares. Appreciate the parts of him he allows you to see and never stop accepting more. You are so lucky to have found someone as special as Owen. Never let him question your love for him. Love him for me.

Your eyes haven’t left his face since he’d picked up your phone. The emotions that dance across his face mirror the ones you had while you were writing.

His eyes are glassy when he finally looks up at you. In an instant he’s making his way over to you, not even bothering to walk around the counter, he’s hopping on the island and in front of you and then he’s dropped to his knees and burying his face in your stomach, one hand holding onto you like you’re his lifeline, the other still gripping your phone. You can feel him shaking and you know he’s coming undone, the tears soaking their way through your shirt to your skin proof of that.

“I’m so so so sorry. I didn’t- I just don’t - I was so afraid. Of hurting you, of getting hurt, of fucking everything up” his voice was thick and muffled as he struggled to get the right words out.

You were stroking his head, your fingers raking through his hair and holding him close. The sight of him on his knees in front of you, crying had you in tears yourself.

“And then I fucked everything up anyways and ended up hurting us both”. He sounded so broken.

You shook your head. You couldn’t take him hurting so badly and in this position any longer. You pushed his head back and moved your hands on top of his to break his grip on your shirt. You tugged on his hands and pulled him up to his full height. Though he was towering over you, he felt so small. He was looking at his feet, at his hands, the counter, everywhere but you.

“O, look at me bub” you said trying to make yourself fall into his line of view.

When he finally did, he saw your eyes were filled with tears too but they were also filled with something else, forgiveness.

“We’re both obviously hurting, that much is clear. But if you meant what you wrote, if you - if you love me...I meant what I said in my list. The best thing I ever did was love you. And I still do, if you’ll let me this time”. You stood in front of him, completely vulnerable. You laid it all out on the line, you were willing to try again if he was.

He lets your words sink in and it’s like they lift him up. His shoulders push back slightly and he finds the courage to take a hold of your hand, lightly tracing the tan line from your ring on your finger.

“I mean it. I want you so bad. I really need you in my life again, I love you” he says without hesitation.

“You’re going to have to prove that to me, O. Hours ago you were ready to give advice to your teammate on how to make me happy” you say, gently brushing his hair off of his forehead and thumbing away his tears.

“I was. I would’ve done anything, I just wanted you to be happy....What about Shay?” he guiltily mumbles, leaning into your touch.

“I think he knew from the beginning that I wasn’t ready and that he had a lot to live up to.” you tell him honestly.

He tries to not sound too hopeful as he asks, “So you’re going to break up with him?”

You nod, saying the words he’s been longing to hear, “He’s just not you, Owen”.

[panharmonium]

more scattered naruto thoughts now that we’ve finished season 8 -

[spoiler policy disclaimer first, as always: I am watching naruto for the first time and have only gotten up to the end of season 8 (after pain destroys the hidden leaf village).  i am trying to avoid spoilers, so please don’t interact with this (tags included, because the notifications now show them to me automatically) with any spoilery commentary, including even general things like “oh i love this show but it gets less good after X point” or “X season is better than Y season” or any general assessments of quality/likability/etc re: future seasons.  Thank you! <3 ]

- i like the way S8 ended.  i know that in real life maybe it wouldn’t be so feasible to just talk your enemy back to the light, but honestly, i don’t care.  i love that shit.  i love stories when people refuse to hurt the people who hurt them first, and then their seemingly inconceivable choice to refrain from striking back creates a connection (it’s the ‘return of the jedi’ effect, folks).  i understand that it doesn’t work like that in real life most of the time, and i don’t recommend it for real life people trying to defend themselves, but i do love it in fiction.  i LOVED how naruto went in pursuit of nagato to talk to him, not fight him.  even though naruto says straight-up “i can’t forgive you” / “I want to kill you so badly i can’t stop shaking” - he still recognizes that his enemy is someone who’s been victimized, and he has enough compassion to feel pain on their behalf even when he himself is reeling from having his entire home destroyed and both of his teachers murdered by the person he’s confronting.  his choice to control his (valid) rage and extend a hand in compassion is ultimately what changes the outcome and saves everyone who would have died, reversing the damage that was done, and i love that shit.  

- absolutely adore yamato abandoning his own mission and taking off at a run to try and help naruto when he senses that naruto is losing control over the nine-tails.  this man thought he was just a substitute teacher for a while there, but he’s become part of the family while he wasn’t looking.

- HINATA.  oh my god i couldn’t even enjoy this incredible moment because i was so stressed out (and angry, at the time, because i really thought they were going to kill her, and that would’ve crossed my line).  i want to watch this again knowing that she’s fine, because my anxiety over ‘fuck fuck fuck they’re actually going to kill one of the kids’ precluded me from even appreciating it appropriately.

- there’s been a lot of talk on this show about how sakura doesn’t have as much chakra as naruto or sasuke, but she heals people non-stop the entire time Pain is attacking and doesn’t show any signs of running dry.  SHOW HER SOME RESPECT.

- CHOOOOOOOOJIIIIIIII!  omg.  i was so afraid that his father was actually dead, and SO RELIEVED that he was okay.  you can’t do that to choji!!!

- also relatedly, how much do i adore choji for caring so much about kakashi?  <333 i mean this kid is there sobbing over his dead body, and then he bursts out crying when kakashi comes back to life - i really appreciate these little ties between characters who aren’t always in close quarters but who do have a relationship.  kakashi has been a teacher to ALL of the kids, and team 10 especially feels indebted to him - the respect and affection they all feel for him is very real.

- first time i actually thought ‘ok he’s cool’ with regard to minato was when he talked to the nine-tails so unfazed like “he’s a loudmouth.  let’s go somewhere more quiet.’  i’ve been kind of so-so on his character so far, but i liked this.  

- also later in that scene - the (rare) scenes we’ve seen where naruto totally breaks down absolutely kill me.  it happened once when gaara was dead, and then there’s another moment in this episode when he’s talking to minato - whoever voices him does just incredible work in those moments, and it is SO PAINFUL to me because naruto is always such a happy kid the rest of the time and eternally optimistic and positive and excited and popping back up every time he falls down, and so when he cracks it is just devastating to see.  i hate seeing him cry like that.

- similarly - that shot of sasuke at the end of the itachi arc wrecked me.  naruto’s breakdowns are upsetting, but at least he allows himself to have them - when he gets pushed past a breaking point, he explodes.  he cries and yells and spills every single thought in his head in front of everybody who’s around him, and after it’s done, things get better.  he’s with people who care about him.  he’s venting and making himself understood, and he always finds his equilibrium again.

sasuke, though, has been completely locked down ever since we saw him sneak out of the hospital to wander around the scene of his community’s mass murder, and he’s still locked down now, even crying all alone at the edge of the ocean.  this moment isn’t cathartic.  it isn’t a release.  this is barely even a sliver of what this kid has going on inside him, and it looks like it’s agonizing for him to even let that much out.

- the scene where naruto is about to give up and give in to the nine-tails’s power...that exchange!!!!!!!

i don’t know.  it hurts.  i hate this.  i don’t know.  what should i do.  i don’t know anything anymore.  someone...please help me.  give me...an answer.

destroy everything.  erase anything that causes you pain.  give me your soul, your spirit, your vital essence.  give it to me, and in exchange, i will rescue you from your pain.

this whole exchange is amazing.  the way naruto says ‘it hurts’...this is one of those scenes that expands to cover so much more ground than just what’s onscreen at that moment.  what naruto overcomes here is precisely the trap that sasuke has not been able to escape.  sasuke has never had any framework for dealing with pain that isn’t about pursuing vengeance.  it’s the only way he thinks he can free himself from his pain - by putting all of his energy into destroying the people who hurt him.  

but it becomes an endless cycle, because he never succeeds.  itachi dies and sasuke feels worse than ever, so he turns his attention to the hidden leaf in an attempt to finally kill what’s hurting him.  but even if sasuke were to raze the entire village to the ground, his pain would still be with him, and he’d then have to turn his attention to yet another target, because the alternative would be to recognize that he can’t escape his pain by destroying the things that hurt him, and that’s not something he’s able to accept right now.  he’s spent half his life fixated on the idea that revenge can rescue him from how terrible he feels, and abandoning that idea now would mean that nothing can save him.  it would mean that he’s going to hurt like this no matter what he does.  

kakashi tried to warn him about this.  he tried to tell sasuke that even after getting his revenge, sasuke wouldn’t feel better, that he’d only tear himself apart trying to achieve something that would leave him feeling empty - but sasuke was too entrenched in his own warped thinking to believe it.  and ever since then, sasuke has been in the company of people who are happy to let him dig himself deeper and deeper into a self-destructive hole as long as it benefits their agenda.  they don’t care if he’s hurting himself.  they’re happy to see him suffering.  his pain is a tool they can use.

- a note re: kakashi, when it comes to this topic - 

i think it’s relevant to remember that kakashi never tells sasuke not to pursue revenge because it’s “wrong” or ethically questionable.  he never delivers any moralizing speeches in the vein of “if you kill someone who victimized you, you’re just as bad as they are.”  kakashi doesn’t think it’s wrong if itachi dies, and if sasuke were in a better state of mind, he probably wouldn’t even mind if sasuke were the one to kill him.  that’s why kakashi is comfortable helping team 10 pursue asuma’s killers, after all - because they’re not unbalanced by rage or making self-destructive decisions; they’re acting with clear heads and pursuing a course of action that needs to be taken anyway (asuma’s murderers are on their way to the leaf to capture naruto - they need to be dealt with regardless).  team 10′s kids can handle that mission - they’re thinking straight.  they’re comfortable accepting adult guidance.  they’re grieving, but they’re okay. 

sasuke is not.  sasuke has been deeply traumatized since he was a very young child, and encouraging his quest for vengeance is equivalent to validating all of the fucked-up thought patterns that are hurting him so badly - that it was his responsibility (as a seven year-old child) to protect his clan, that he was weak and cowardly for running away, that he needs to take itachi down as penance for failing to save his family, that killing itachi is the only way for him to justify his childhood survival, that killing itachi will free him from his pain.  for kakashi to encourage any of these false convictions would be irresponsible and, ultimately, harmful to the child he’s supposed to be looking after.  if sasuke gets his revenge on itachi, he’s just going to be left with the horrifying realization that his pain hasn’t lessened even the slightest bit, except that now he also has to deal with the additional trauma of killing someone he used to love. 

kakashi doesn’t discourage sasuke from revenge because Revenge Is Morally Bad and You Are Morally Bad For Pursuing It; he discourages sasuke from revenge because in this particular case, sasuke’s fixation on revenge is hurting him.  it’s unhealthy for him, and it will cause him worse pain in the future if he allows it to continue driving his life.  sasuke is never going to feel better if he doesn’t stop distracting himself from his pain by focusing solely on vengeance.  if he’s ever going to actually be rescued from his pain, he needs to face (and FEEL!!!) his grief, which is precisely what staying fixated on revenge allows him to avoid.

- relatedly: i just.  am SO sick.  of all these horrible people.  getting their hands on sasuke.  and using him for their own ends.  when he has already been manipulated and victimized all his life.  it makes me wanna SCREAM!!!!  and i know that’s the point; we are supposed to be frustrated by this - but - hrnghghgnh

and like - it’s not like sasuke doesn’t know it’s happening!  he’s not stupid!  he knows the people around him are using him, and he just tries to use them back and play them before they play him, and he accepts that this is what his life is going to look like, and because he survives, he thinks he’s in control, but he has NO IDEA how far over his head he’s in now.  and besides, he never stops to think that maybe his life shouldn’t look like this.  he has no conception of ‘someone should be taking care of me.’  he’s never seen himself as a child who needs protection - he’s never seen himself as a child, period.  it’s why he’s such a brat to the other kids, and it’s why he never calls kakashi ‘sensei.’  he thinks of himself as an adult.  he has adult problems.  he can’t connect to children his own age because he can’t connect to the idea of childhood - his childhood was stolen from him, and with it went any conception of refuge or safety or the fact that relentless self-sufficiency and a constant cycle of using/being used by other people isn’t in fact what his life is supposed to look like.

i am continually infuriated by all of these people who have abdicated their responsibility as adults and chosen to exploit an already exploited kid, one who is too messed up to save himself or let anybody else help him.  none of these people care about him.  they all want to use him for something.  they’re happy he’s in pain, because his pain is what enables them to manipulate him.

the people who DO truly want to help him are the same people he’s desperately trying to avoid.  the only adult sasuke ever had a meaningful and non-manipulative relationship with is the same adult he keeps running away from.  and the only two people his own age who ever actually knew anything about him or cared if he was okay are the two people he keeps pushing away. 

there is, perhaps, a lot to be said about how sasuke continually runs away from the people who actually care about him and instead affiliates himself with people he’ll never have to worry about forming a connection with.  “having too many ties in this world just holds you back” - sure, and having no ties protects you, too.  nobody to love you, nobody to know you, nobody you can ever lose.