#i don't want to go to school to have silent day long panic attacks as i try not yo break out sobbing in gym class

[bugbxyjunk]

words cant explain how much i don't want to go to school

[kaciidubs]

Open Heart

❣ Summary: When you don't know what to say or do, when life starts living you, you can always rely on Chris to bring you back. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 3.2k ❣ Warnings: Mental breakdown, existential crisis, implied panic attack, angst, fluff, comfort, crying, Supportive BF! Chris, Reader is a mess mentally and emotionally, discussions of family, careers, life, and the future, self doubt, self deprecation, mentioned disassociation ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Christopher, and Christopher Bahng [wowie], Reader is referred to as Princess, Baby, Love, Sweet Girl, this is the one that's personal so I'm sorry if you can relate but also you're not alone ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“Yeah, dad, I know... Mhm... No, I haven’t heard back from them yet, but it’s only been a week since I applied so... Yeah, I know…”

You paced the living room of your apartment, holding your phone to your ear as you did your best to tame the headache brewing in your head. 

“I know you do, it’s just - there’s so many things I can do with my degree, I’m just trying to figure out what I want to do... I know... Yeah... Okay... Talk to you later... Love you too, bye.” 

Ending the call, you tossed your phone onto the couch with a heavy sigh - the weight of the world piling on top of stress already weighing on your shoulders. 

Everything sucked - almost as if the world was out to get you for simply existing; years of doing what was right, doing what you were supposed to, only for you to still feel like you weren’t doing enough. 

People pleasing. 

A wave of guilt made your stomach turn, tears stinging behind your eyes as you stood in the silence, yet it still felt so loud. 

You knew your dad meant well, your parents meant well, your family meant well, but every question, every poorly veiled nudge of ‘What’s your next big move going to be? You’ve been stagnant for so long.’ ate at your psyche at every turn. You felt like you did everything; you graduated high school in the high percentage of your class, you went to college, you graduated as a first generation student after five excruciatingly long years - yet through all that they still wanted more from you. 

A pleasure to have known. You have so much potential.

If you had a dime for the amount of times you’ve heard those words, you would’ve been a millionaire by now. 

A shaky breath rattled in your chest as you sighed, your hands rising to cup your rapidly heating face. “Fuck... F-Fuck.”

Your vision blurred, salty tears stinging your eyes before burning fiery trails down your cheeks with no signs of stopping. 

When was it going to be enough? When were you going to be enough? 

Your breath hitched, choking on a sob that your body refused to let go - not now, not right now. You were still young, you had so much potential - so why did it feel like you were being rushed? Why did it feel like everyone saw some invisible clock above you, counting down the days until you’d become useless? 

Wasted potential - those words always used to scare you, the famous buzzwords of any educator wanting to instill proper work ethic in their students; the future of the workforce. 

Wasted potential - that’s what you were beginning to feel at your 9-5; a quaint little job you kept throughout your final semester, something that got the bills paid and kept a little more in your savings. 

Wasted potential - that’s what you felt when your days began blending together, when you realized disassociation was your coping mechanism until your mouse hovered over ‘clock out’. 

You wanted to do so much, so much, but there was never enough time in the day - they were never ideas that would earn you a proper living wage, a career path your family wouldn’t agree with. 

Your body shook as a sob finally tore through your silent cries, your head throbbing as air tried to force its way into your lungs - crying never used to hurt like this.

Your world spun, it felt like time froze while speeding up, but all you could do was cry - stand in your living room and cry like a reprimanded child because you weren’t doing what you were supposed to. 

“Princess?” 

Your eyes snapped open behind your fingers, quickly registering a bigger, warmer pair wrapping around your wrists. 

“Baby, can you hear me?” 

Guilt. 

Chris was home early, and instead of relaxing like he deserved, he now had to tend to you - crying over the same thing you cried over four months ago. 

He felt you tense, he could see the spiral of overthinking, and his grip tightened, “Hey, hey, it’s just me - it’s just me, princess.” 

You sniffled, biting back another sob as you shook your head, “’M s-sorry-” 

“Shh, don’t apologize - you don’t have to apologize, not to me, not for this.” 

Understanding - he was always so good at that, making sure you knew you weren’t the problem of anything; he always joked he got better at it from you. 

Another wave of tears surged through you, nearly making you double over at the rush of fresh emotions popping off in your brain, your jaw tensing as you tried to stifle the illegible babbling falling from your lips. 

“I- It’s- I can’t- And- It’s just so-” 

Chris pulled you into his chest, one arm wrapping around your shoulders while the other cradled the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing circles just behind your ear. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay - I’m here, you’re okay.” 

He blinked away his own tears, the sounds of your cries breaking his heart when he entered the apartment, and now the feeling of your body shaking against his like a fall leaf utterly tearing him apart inside. 

You weren’t sure how long you both stood there, him whispering words of comfort in your ear while you stained his black hoodie with your tears, but you slowly came out of your breakdown with uneven breaths - your hands holding onto his hoodie as if he was your lifeline. 

He was your lifeline.

“Can we go to the bedroom, princess? Can we manage that?” He cooed softly, a soft smile settling on his lips as he felt you nod. “Okay, we’ll go slow, yeah?” 

True to his word, he slowly led you into the bedroom with shuffling steps, noting how you clung to him like a baby koala, as if you separated from him at any point you’d float away into space. 

Sitting on the bed first, he scooted toward the middle of the mattress and you quickly followed suit; crawling toward him before laying your head on his chest, tangling your legs with his while he pulled you into his side. 

It was quiet, save for the occasional hiccuped breath and sniffle, the sound of his heartbeat slowing the thudding in your own head, the rise and fall of his chest reminding you how to breathe again.

“Love?” 

You hummed softly, your free hand nonchalantly playing with the drawstring of his hoodie. 

“Wanna talk about what happened?” 

Dropping your hand to lay flat on his chest, you took a deep breath to fight back another round of tears threatening to come out. “I... My dad called to check in, see how we were doing and all... He wanted to know if I found a different job yet, one that uses my degree, and I told him I hadn’t.” Swallowing thickly, you squeezed your eyes shut as you continued, “He’s worried that I’m not using my full potential, that I’m not getting paid what I should - and I don’t blame him, really, I went to college for a reason and everything, but it just feels like I'm being rushed into making another decision I’m not ready for." 

“Another decision like picking your major?” Chris chimed in - he’d remembered you telling him about your realization of wanting to switch majors in your junior year, but ultimately choosing not to since you were close to graduating at the time. 

You nodded, “I know he means well, I love my dad, I love my family, but it just feels like they don’t understand that I'm just...tired. I’m so, so tired that the idea of getting a new job - when I’ve only been at this one for just over a year - makes me feel like I can’t breathe. Fuck, the fact that I’ve been at this job for a year makes my skin crawl because this isn't what I want.”

Picking mindlessly at a few cotton pills collected on the fabric of his hoodie, a heavy sigh escaped you, “I feel like all I’ve been doing my whole life is performing for other people, catering to other people, to the point that I don’t even know who I am. I’ve always been told all these great things about myself, but-” A hot tear rolled across the bridge of your nose, “I don’t believe them, at all. Everyone sees all this potential in me and it drives me crazy because I don’t see potential in myself.”

Your name rolled off of his tongue softly, with so much care and gentleness that it made your heart hurt more because he’d been part of the crowd singing your praises and you practically confessed that you didn’t believe him. 

“Princess, my sweet, sweet girl…” 

“C-Chris, I’m-” 

“Please,” he cut you off with a gentle squeeze, “you already know what I’m gonna say if the next words out of that pretty mouth of yours are ‘I’m sorry’.”

Sighing softly, you accepted that fate as his right hand slid down your arm to take your hand in his, another gentle squeeze to remind you that he’s right here. 

“I just... I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

“Well,” Chris hummed softly, taking in the way your smaller fingers threaded between his own, “what is it you want to do?” 

It was almost as if you stopped breathing, guilt and shame swirling around in your head at his question - the golden question everyone had, but never got the full answer to. 

“...open heart?” 

This time it was Chris’s turn to falter, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of your tear stained face. “Open heart, princess, always.” 

Open heart, something you’d both established years ago in your relationship as a way of asking for full attention - reestablishing that you both were in a safe space with zero judgment, remaining heart to heart with one another. 

“I-” You paused, fighting against the will of your mind wanting to keep yourself protected, from being seen. “I... I don't want to do anything…”

Before he even had the chance to breathe, you jumped into the defensive, “A-And I know that’s stupid- I’m in such a position so early on in my life and there’s so much I can do, but, baby, I’m at a point right now that I can’t see myself working a 9-5 for the next month, let alone another 40-or so years of my life!” Panic quickly began to set in as your thoughts ran a mile a minute, your brain begging you to stop but your heart pleading for you to get rid of this weight. “I can’t be a girl boss, I don’t want to be independent, I-I just wanna be taken care of and loved and supported - I wanna take care of all the things at home and be the one helping you reset after those stressful days. I wanna learn about myself and my hobbies and discover what kind of person I really am underneath all of these learned traits. And I’m sorry, I know, it’s pathetic, it’s shameful, it’s selfish to want to put all of this onto you-” 

The sound of your name falling firm from his lips stopped you in your tracks, your blood running cold as you laid as still as you could be against him. 

“Open heart means we can’t speak for each other, remember that rule?” His tone was softer, light and teasing, quelling the tinge of fear spoiling every word you spoke as you nodded. “Okay, good - now, can I say something, or would you like to continue?” 

“Please say something, Channie.” 

“Alright, first and foremost, don’t ever, ever call anything you want ‘stupid’ - your desires are what make you you, and that includes wanting that 24-inch green matcha squishmallow.” 

He felt your body shake - short laugh, a huff of air, a sign that he was breaking through.

“Second, I don’t think you wanting to be provided for is pathetic or shameful or selfish - it takes a strong person to admit that, and at the end of the day I think that’s what everyone wants in their own special form; somewhere they feel safe, cared for, loved. And, you’re not putting it all on me,” he felt you tense, but his hand held firm to yours, “because I want to be that for you. I want to provide for you, take care of you, handle all the things that are too big and scary for you to figure out on your own. I want to give you the freedom to explore and be yourself, pursue what you want and don’t want to do - and if that makes you ‘selfish’ then, princess, I’m the most selfish person of them all.”

“You-” your voice cracked, throat raw and sore, “You don’t mean that, baby, please-”

“C’mere.” He huffed, pulling you up with him as he sat up before tapping your thigh, signaling for you to sit on his lap - and once you were situated, he cupped your face in his hands, “I would never lie to you, you hear me? Since the day we met I knew I wanted to do everything in my power to care for you, even when we were just friends and you would join the kids in teasing me about how old I was even though you weren’t too far off yourself.” 

Your pouted lips morphed into a sad smile and he had to stop himself from cooing over how cute you looked, even with puffy eyes and an even puffier face.

“Plus, I’ve been taking care of seven other people for the better half of five years, what makes you think I don’t want to do the same for the love of my life?”

Teary eyes searched his for any sign of dishonesty, but all you found was overflowing truth and love, a fresh breath of acceptance cooling your lungs like drinking ice water after eating a mint.

“Open heart?” You murmured softly, taking his hands in your own before pulling them off of your, embarrassingly sore, face.

He nodded, ducking his head to press a fleeting kiss to your knuckles.

“I was always a little jealous of you, you know that?”

“Me?!” 

The shocked squeak in his voice made a giggle, a genuine giggle, bubble up inside of you and you nodded in earnest. 

“Yeah, you. I always felt like I was so far behind everyone around me when it came to having their passions in order, having their lives in order, and when I met you all I could think about was how sure of yourself you were - how you were able to follow through and actually do what you love for a living not only because people around you supported you, but because you believed in yourself.” Dropping your gaze to your entwined hands, you traced your thumbs along his knuckles, “You always knew what you wanted and you worked toward it - I always wished I could be like that, I still do.”

“Baby, you know you can’t-”

“-compare my life to yours, yeah, yeah, I know.”

He didn’t miss the lilt of playfulness highlighting your words, a smile finding its way to his face as he shot you a lighthearted glare, “No mocking! But, really, you shouldn’t - we come from completely different backgrounds, and if anything I’m more jealous of you than you are of me; there’s so many things you’ve done that I haven’t had the chance to experience.”

You let out an incredulous scoff, tilting your head inquisitively, “Like what? Work a draining part time job in the food industry?”

“Yes!” Though he was laughing, you could still hear the serious notes in his voice, “You got to work retail, you went on family vacations whenever you wanted, you fucking graduated college before I did!”

“Okay, first of all, all of my horror stories should deter you from ever wanting to become a retail employee in your near future!” Dropping his hand, you poked him in the chest with a faux glare, “Second, I guess you’ve got me there - between how often I’ve seen my family compared to you, I do win that spot… But that last one you definitely have over me, Mr. Double Major!”

“Oh shut up - you’re a graduate, I’m still in classes; you didn’t have to go from having practice at 8 but an exam due at 8:30, while still needing two demo tracks ready for the first listen at 10!”

The two of you dissolved into a mess of giggles and smiles, whatever tension remained melting away with each melodic sound that escaped you.

“Princess?”

You hummed, a soft smile settling on your lips, “Yeah, Channie?”

“Open heart,” Chris started warmly, deep brown eyes sparkling with a love only you could know, “I want you to know that I meant every word I said - I do want to take care of you, physically, mentally, financially, whatever way you’ll let me. And - not to sound cocky or anything, but I definitely make enough to support the both of us with no issue. Aside from that, I want to build a life with you - so if that life includes you being the hottest stay at home wife then it’s the best life I could’ve ever asked for because you’re in it.”

A wave of heat rushed over you as butterflies erupted in your stomach, “Stay at home wife, hm?” 

Of course, you paid attention to everything else he said, but you didn’t think you’d be able to say anything on it without bursting into tears again.

“Would you prefer stay at home mom? I mean, you’ve already got seven kids calling you it anyways - and I can’t lie, it does have a nice ring to it.” He grinned, releasing your other hand to wind his arms around your waist, scooting your body closer to his.

Rolling your eyes at his less than subtle tease, you snaked your arms around his shoulders, nails playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, “Let’s just start with stay at home girlfriend and see where we go from there, yeah?”

“So you’ll quit tomorrow?”

“Christopher!” You stood no chance in holding back the burst of laughter that escaped you, narrowly avoiding knocking your head against his as you shook with unabashed giggles, “Tomorrow? You sound like you’ve been waiting for this confession to come!”

“Baby, I was one more angry rant of your supervisor ‘springing last minute work onto you’ away from quitting for you.”

Reeling yourself back in, you leaned forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss, your world finally feeling like the pieces were slowly falling into place - or, at the very least, revealing themselves to you. “I love you, Christopher Bahng, wholly and truthfully, there’s no words in the entire galaxy to express how much you mean to me.”

He held you tight, pressing his forehead against yours with a soft sigh, “I love you more, more than you ever know, more than all the stars in this universe and the next. Whatever you decide, whatever you want, I’ll give it to you - just say the word.”

“Does that include ordering takeout for dinner tonight so we can keep cuddling?”

“Find a menu while I change?”

“Order it while I wash my face?”

“Deal.”

Everything sucked, sure, and there was still much left to figure out - but with Chris by your side, you realized that things could get better with an open mind and an open heart.

[angels-fantasy]

Girl let me just say your fics are superb and thanks for the quirkless child one I requested with Bakugou! I promise I’ll leave you be for a bit in a second, but… post final war; everyone who has came out alive clearly is suffering from injuries, health issues, and trauma (both physical trauma and mental trauma) no? So how about a Bakugou x Reader with a reader who was essentially Bubbly, Firery and Energetic, to after the war who is exhausted, is often having nightmares over Bakugou cause well he nearly died, sleep deprived and basically depressed because I can guarantee nobody should be sane after a war, especially not children like our lovely highschoolers. Please make it angst to comfort, because seeing how Bakugou also has developed I’m sure as sad as he would be he would also be understanding and try to be comforting (despite his awkwardness). I’d appreciate if you could get this done to be as close as possible (and maybe just a little long than the one I requested last time- no pressure) BUT if anything you find in my request may be too triggering or something feel free to make it less triggering and change it, I just ask if you can keep the same vibe and theme with the reader who changed drastically after the wars and is getting comforted by Bakugou, Angst to comfort (duh), thank you so much, and I hope I’m not troubling you too much! — An anon who enjoys suffering, angst, and comfort ((SAC) Anon); (get it? Suffering, Angst, Comfort, SAC, wait that has a good ring to it, damn I have a new alias, I’ll shut up now)

I'm Okay, As Long as He's Here (Request)

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Details/Warnings: reader has a panic attack and nightmares!! pls be weary of this. angst to fluff, well, my attempt at angst lol

Word Count: 1k

thank you for your request and the support :D it means a lot to me 🩷 btw don't ever feel like you're bothering me or like you need to leave me alone! i like talking to everyone :) also this is a good little plot, but im not the best at writing angst but this is helping me improve i think, so please tell me how i did! i really hope you like it SAC anon hahah

Before the war, you were a different person. Looking at you now, no one would ever guess you were once a bubbly, out going person. But Katsuki knew you were, and sometimes, he missed the old you.

It was hard to watch you wake up crying in the middle of the night from your horrible nightmares of the war. Some being about his near death experience, and others being about him dying in other ways.

Some nights, you didn't sleep at all, and it was really showing.

"Hey, keep your head up. I don't want you to fall asleep." Katsuki said. It was already months after the war, so you were all back at school, but you were one of the few students that was struggling the most.

He definitely has his struggles too, but he knew he had to be there for you, because yours were much worse.

You opened your eyes wider, trying your best to stay awake. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep last night."

"You havin' nightmares again?"

You nodded, he sighed.

"Come sleep in my dorm tonight. You sleep better with me and you know it."

You agreed and continued trying your best to stay awake for the rest of the day. Occasionally, Katsuki would have to wake you up or remind you to stay awake. The lack of sleep made it hard to focus, especially in Hero Training. Thankfully, Mr. Aizawa and the rest of the teachers were understanding of the students who were struggling.

Once school was over it felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You knew you had homework to do, but right now you'd rather sleep. Or at least attempt to. Since you were going to be with Katsuki tonight, you were probably only going to have one nightmare. Plus, he'd be there to comfort you.

Following your boyfriend to his dorm room, you immediately changed into some of your clothes that he had there for you, and then laid down on his bed.

For a while, you just silently watched him as he sat at his desk and did his homework, something you should also be doing.

"What're you starin' at?"

You smiled, but not as brightly as before, "I'm just admiring you."

He huffed, "Good, I'm awesome."

Rolling your eyes, you said, "And there he is."

He laughed and continued doing his homework. You just continued watching him, because it was something that comforted you. It was a reminder that he was okay and alive.

Knowing he was safe right in front of you, you fell asleep.

...

You didn't know what time it was, but it must've been late since the room you were in was dark.

You clutched your chest as you sat up in bed and breathed heavily, feeling tears prick your eyes.

Of course, you had another nightmare again. This one in particular was about Katsuki, and he was in the arms of Shigaraki. You saw the villain use his Decay quirk on him, and your boyfriend began to crumble away but you were paralyzed in your dream. There was nothing you could do.

The nightmare felt so real and so scary, like they usually do. You felt so helpless and scared. The evil that emitted from Shigaraki and All For One was something you'd always remember.

You subconsciously began to rock yourself back and forth and made self soothing noises as you continued to have a panic attack. They never got easier, or less scary as time went on. It always felt like you were going to die.

Your panic must've woke Katsuki up, because you suddenly heard his voice calling out to you.

"Hey, hey! Breathe baby, you gotta breathe." He said.

You shook your head, "I-I can't! It hurts. I'm scared, I'm gonna die!"

He carefully grabbed your hands and held them in his. He took one of them and brought it to his chest near his heart so you could feel it beat.

"What is my heart doing right now?" He asked. This was a method he used to ground you during these situations, especially because he knew how you felt about him and his safety.

You looked at his chest, "Beating. Your heart is beating."

"Right. Now what do you feel here?" He asked, now placing a hand on the blanket that was on top of you guys.

"The blanket."

"What does it feel like?"

"It's soft and fluffy."

As he continued distracting you from your panic, you eventually calmed down. You were still crying a bit, but he held you in his arms as you let it out.

"He killed you Katsuki. I was so scared, and I couldn't do anything!" You cried into his chest.

He rubbed your back, "You know that shit isn't real, no matter how real it feels. I'm right here living and breathing. I'm safe, okay?"

You nodded and sniffed, "Okay." You placed a hand on his chest over his heart and felt it beat, the steady rhythm of it comforting you.

Katsuki grabbed that hand and kissed the palm of it, "Love you. I'll be here all night, 'kay?"

"I love you too. Thank you."

"It's no problem."

The next morning, you felt more rested than usual. It must've been because you only had one nightmare, which was an improvement.

You noticed you woke up before your boyfriend, so you just let him sleep a little longer while you got on with your morning routine. You had a lot of your own things in his room, including an extra toothbrush which you were thankful for.

When he eventually woke up, he walked over to you and hugged you tightly.

"You feelin' okay?" He asked.

You nodded as best as you could in his tight grip, "Mhm."

"Be honest."

"I am! I feel a lot better than last night." You insisted as you pulled away slightly, still keeping your arms around him.

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, "Mkay. Wanna sleep with me again tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll bring more clothes later."

He smiled, "'Kay. Let's go to class." He said and threw an arm over your shoulder, making you smile up at him.

Yeah, you knew things would be okay as long as he was around.

authors note

i hope you liked it! i'm sorry it was kinda short, i've been in a little writing stump but im trying to get out of it!

love ya 🩷

tags for bakugou fics: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot

[vioartemis]

I’ll die with you (part 2)

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: After you woke up at the hospital, your little group gathered and tried to list the suspects. When you get home with your girlfriend, she finds a good way to unstress you. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 Warnings: (+18), smut, fingering (r receiving), mention of attack (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

In the morning, the police came to question you about what happened. You told them all you could remember, Tara still by your side.

"Do you know who it could be?" the new sheriff asked

"No I... I don't know..."

"Do you have ennemies?"

"No one who's still alive"

"Okay so... We'll keep you informed if we have something new"

He was about to go, but Tara called him back.

"Wait! Aren't you going to put us under protection?"

"Well, the person who attacked you probably think you're dead so..."

"We're not talking about any killer! It's Ghostface! He's going to come back. He always does."

She stood up and glared daggers at him, ready to fight until he gave you whatever protection.

"Tara..." you squeezed her hand "It's okay Sheriff, thank you"

She looked at you in disbelief as he got out of the room.

"What are you doing? You know we're in danger we need to be protected-"

"You know it's useless. He killed your protection last year, remember...? And we are not in danger. I am"

"Yeah and you're my girlfriend, so we are in danger"

"No. You are going to leave Woodsboro with Sam and the others. That way you will be safe and-"

"And you? You're coming with us right?"

You stayed silent, avoiding her gaze.

"No. No. I am not leaving you here."

"Tara it's the only way! Leave when you still can! I'll keep him busy here. He's going to come back for me. He wants me dead Tara."

"Well then I'll die with you."

"Tara-"

"I prefer dying with you than living far away while you're in danger"

Later this day, when Tara left to grab some coffee, you were visited by one of your friends and classmates. He knocked softly before opening the door slowly.

"Hi, how are you feeling?"

"Physically? Pretty good thanks to the painkillers. Mentally..." you didn't finish your sentence "How do you know I was attacked?"

"Tara called us. The press doesn't talk about it yet if that's what you were wondering. The teachers didn't know why you weren't here, Mindy told them you were sick"

You didn't know if that was the best thing to do. Not creating panic was great, but if Ghostface was back everyone was in danger. Now that the new sheriff wasn't so familiar with the killer, you were even more worried.

"... But the police arrived and told them everything" he continued "Oh! I bring you something, here" he handed you a card "Everyone signed it"

You took the card and opened it, lips curling up slightly at the sight: Kyra, Finn, Mindy, Lexi, Angie, Kyle, Chad, Ayla, Eleanor...

"Looks like not everyone signed it"

"What? I gave it to everyone that's no possible... who forgot?"

"You" you chuckled

"Shit..." he mumbled, blushing in embarrassement "I was so busy making sure they all signed I forgot to do it..."

You gave him the card so he could sign it, when Tara came back, two cups of coffee in hand.

"Sorry it took me so long there was so many people at th-" she paused when she saw him "Damian? You're not at school?"

"They dismissed us because of... what happened..."

He gave you the card again gently.

"What's that?" Tara asked, handing you one of the cups and sitting next to you

"We made a card for Y/n, all classmates signed it"

"Babe I don't know if I'm supposed to drink coffee..." you whispered

"Oh, right, I thought it could give you energy but... I didn't think this through..."

"I'm going to leave you alone... It was nice seeing you Y/n, Tara... I'll be back later maybe"

"Thanks for coming" you said

With that, Damian exited your room with a slight smile. Immediately after the door closed, Tara turned to you.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You shouldn't stay alone with someone! What if he's Ghostface?"

"Tara! Come on have you seen him? He's an angel, he couldn't hurt a fly"

"The more innocent they look the more dangerous they are" she mumbled

"If he wanted to kill me I would be dead. It's not him. Now relax and come here"

You moved a little to the side and lifted the covers so she could come in your bed with you. She took her shoes off and took place next to you. You rested your head against her. You missed her touch, her warmth, her perfume.

You thought you would never feel it again, and be here now against her relaxed you to the point you fell asleep.

When you woke up, Sam, Chad, Damian, Mindy, Lexi and your mom were here, sitting in circle around your bed. Tara was still next to you, stroking your hair lovingly.

"How long did I sleep...?"

"Around an hour" Tara replied, kissing your forehead

"You should've wake me up... sorry you had to wait..."

"It's okay, don't worry" Mindy said

"Have you figured out who the killer is already?" you asked her

"Not yet, unfortunately. But I have my list of suspects! Well not really... but-"

Like the year before, she started rambling about sequels and requels and something about a franchise and that everyone could die now.

"Now for the suspects... That's when it gets complicated..."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked

"Well, I don't think any of us survivor would do this. Gale is Y/n's mother, she wouldn't hurt her own daughter. Tara loves her way too much to lay a hand on her. And Sam, Chad and me, we all love Y/n, why would we attack her?"

"We wouldn't" her twin said

"Exactly. That leaves..." Mindy turned to the other boy "Damian, ah, Damian. How come you got close to Y/n after the massacre last year? You barely talked before."

"Well I- I don't know, I wanted to be friends with her. I always thought of talking to her but I don't know I just- got shy I guess..."

"Sure, very convincing"

"Wha- I'm not lying-"

"Lexi, my love" Mindy interrupted him, blowing a kiss to her girlfriend who smiled "Never trust the love interest"

The blonde's smile dropped quickly at her words.

"Is that it? Two suspects?" Gale asked Mindy

"Well, according to sequel of requel rules, yes"

"Great" she was being sarcastic, of course. She turned to the now prime suspects "Do you have an alibi for last night?"

Mindy's girlfriend was the first to answer.

"I was at Kyra's birthday party"

"Can you prove it?"

"Ask anyone who was there, check social medias..."

"I was there" Chad said "I can confirm she was at the party all night long"

After a little silence and a nod, Gale turned to Damian.

"And you?"

"I uh... I was home"

"Alone?"

"Yes..." then, after seing the look on everyone's face "But it's not me I swear! I didn't-"

"Yeah, totally not what the killer would say" Mindy jeered

"Y-you don't think it's me right? Chad? Lexi? Tara? Y/n?" the brunet stuttered

Tara's grip on you grew tighter, you could feel her body tense. You place your hand on hers, squeezing gently.

"I don't know man..."

"Come on guys, we can't make assumptions like that... Look at him, do you think he could slam my head against the floor three times? I mean- he looks so harmless with his fluffy hair, and he's too skinny to be the one who attacked me. No offense though"

"None taken" he mumbled, grateful for your support

"Y/n, just because you like his hair doesn't mean he's innocent. It's always the ones that looks the less harmful who does the most horrible things" your mom reminded you

"See, that's what I tried to tell you earlier"

"Tara..."

"What can I do to prove you I'm innocent...?"

"Damian, you don't need to prove anything, we don't-" you started

"You're going to stay with us, so we can keep an eye on you. If needed, tell your parents you're staying at Chad's house, your dear friend" the boy suggested

"I don't know if I like the idea" Mindy objected

"Do you have a better idea? You can stay at Lexi's if you're too scared"

After arguing with the doctors for half an hour, they finally let you go back home. The last time one of Ghostface's victims stayed at the hospital, she got attacked again. The memory was still fresh in yours and Tara's mind.

You could never forget this night.

Tara helped you carry your things to her room, putting your bag in a corner, and leading you to her bed.

"They said you shouldn't stand for too long-"

"Tara, babe, I'm not going to break... I know you're worried, but I'm fine"

"You're not fine, you've been stabbed six times! I know how it feels. It doesn't feel okay"

"... I know it's just- I don't want to stay here doing nothing..." you sighed "I'll lay here without complaining, come here"

You made yourself comfortable on her bed, opening your arms.

"Isn't it going to hurt you if I lay on you...?"

"It's okay, don't worry. I want to be close to you"

She complied and kissed you tenderly before positioning herself, nose pressed against your neck.

You closed your eyes, but immediately the scenes of the day before flashed before your eyes. Ghostface, the pain, the blood, Tara's screams, everything.

"Baby...?" Tara looked at you, concerned "You okay...?"

"Y-yeah... I just... I had some flashbacks..."

"Shit... How can I help?"

"If you know a good method to relax it would be appreciated..."

"Well... maybe I know something that could help"

"Really?"

"Hmhm"

She sat gently on your thighs, a slight smirk on her face.

"Tara-"

"Shh..." she whispered as she crawled to capture your lips with her own "I promise you'll feel better after... 'm gonna take good care of you..."

As she kissed you, one of her hands unbuttoned your jeans and slipped past the waistband of your underwear. She brushed her fingers over your clit, eliciting a moan from you.

You could feel her smile on your lips when she felt the wetness between your legs. She didn't waste time and slipped two digits inside you, humming in appreciation as she felt you clench around her.

She started pumping her fingers in and out of your pussy at a slow pace, provoking moans to slip past your now red and swollen lips. She kissed her way down to your neck, leaving love bites here and there.

When she curled her fingers, your hand tangled in her soft hair.

"Tara..." you let out in a breath

"I love it when you say my name like that..."

She picked up her pace, hitting all the right spots, drawing you closer to your release. She sucked dark purple marks on your neck and slipped another finger in. That was enough to send you over the edge.

"Good girl..."

You could have came again just from that, if it wasn't for Sam to enter the room suddenly.

"What do you want for din- Oh my god-"

She blushed hard when she saw what you were doing and turned her gaze quickly to the floor.

"Jesus christ! Do you think now is the best moment for... that?"

Tara slipped her fingers out of you and casually shove them in her mouth, licking you off her fingers.

"I figured out it was the best way to relax her. Beside, if you knocked..."

"Don't, please. Just- answer the question"

"Pizza would be great, right baby?"

You nodded slightly, cheeks as red as a tomato, mortified. Sam quickly left after she had her answer.

"You didn't lock the door?!" you whispered-shouted "How I am supposed to look at her in the eye now...?"

"Do you feel better?"

"Babe that's not-" you paused at the look she gave you "... yes"

"See, I told you it would help..." she leaned in for a kiss, a smile on her face

"God you really have no shame..." you mumbled, kissing her passionately

"Nope" she smiled against your lips

You knew this kind of moments were the best to remember years after, but at the moment you were embarrassed. Still, a part of yourself 'enjoyed' that moment.

Maybe it was your subconscious knowing happiness would soon end to be replaced by grief.

[Previous part] || [Next part]

[mackenzielovee]

parenthood part twenty three: forever & always, and then some

a/n: oh boy! 12k words to (hopefully) feed your parenthood craving. i am already dying to know what you all think of this, so please don't hesitate to hop into the comments or my ask box to talk! hope you enjoy! reblogs are appreciated :)

warnings: angst warning. swearing, verbal arguments, anxiety, panic attack, crying, kissing

ambivalence masterlist , parenthood masterlist

     The Island Club hasn’t changed one bit since you were employed here and running drinks around to Rafe and his friends before you knew he even had a crush on you. As you watch the waitresses make their rounds to the same customers, serving the same food to the same tables, you chuckle to yourself at the thought of ever having to deal with that again. 

Scott sits across from you, fidgeting in his seat slightly as he holds himself back from pulling a cigarette from his pocket. You skim over him, taking in his appearance. 

His hair is freshly cut and the rosiness is back in his cheeks after having disappeared for so long. He’s eating three meals a day again, and to you, it seems his only unhealthy habit is smoking. In time, you’re sure he will move past that. 

“How’re the kids?” he asks, looking up at you. 

“They’re good,” you reply, “They’re busy bees lately. Connor is starting on a soccer team, so Rafe’s been helping him practice.”

“That’s awesome,” Scott grins, and the sight makes you smile, “Kid always has had one hell of a kick. What about Josie girl?”

You chuckle, “She’s all about dance, recently. She wants me to sign her up for a class, and I’ve been trying to get this teacher to call me back about getting her in.”

“Wow. Good for her. She’s so driven, Y/N. They both are.”

“Yeah, they’re something,” you laugh. 

He gives you a smile, but it fades fast before he asks, “And, Rafe?” 

“He’s doing really well. He’s less stressed at work, and he’s spending a lot of time with the kids.”

Scott nods, “Is he still… y’know? Pissed at me?”

You sigh and look down at your lap, unwilling to respond right away. Rafe’s feelings toward Scott have been complicated ever since he showed up to the house and scared the shit out of you and the kids, even though you’ve worked through it and have encouraged Rafe to do the same. Your loyalty to your brother runs deeper than Rafe’s does — because, as he puts it, he will always choose the safety and security of his family. Especially his children. 

“He’s not pissed, Scott,” you say carefully. 

“Right, he’s just done with me,” he laughs dryly, “Look, it’s fine, Y/N. I get it.”

You nod, and when your waiter drops your plates in front of you, you’re relieved when Scott eats his meal and has several glasses of water. 

He tells you about the new job he just started and how he’s finally, officially, cut ties with Mae after she’s yanked him around for over a year. How he’s attending regular AA meetings and actually participating in them. He’s even made a few friends in the group, and they go out to eat together after their meetings to keep themselves busy. 

By the time he pays for your lunch and walks you out to your car, you can’t help but pull him into a tight embrace. He hugs you back and gives you a wide smile, silently telling you that he really is doing better. 

“So, listen, I was kinda hoping I could see them soon,” he says, clarifying, “The kids.”

You know you should run it by Rafe first, but the look in Scott’s eye and the pride swelling in your heart at his improvement has you answering faster than you should. 

“That would be great,” you nod. 

He smiles, “Perfect. How about Wednesday afternoon? I don’t have to be at work ‘til six. Do they have sports or anything?”

You hold up a finger and check the calendar on your phone, finding nothing for yourself or either of the kids on Wednesday after they get home from school. 

“Wednesday works,” you reply, “I’ll bring them to your apartment.”

“Awesome,” he beams, then pulls you in for another hug, “Thank you so much, Y/N. I can’t wait.”

“The kids will be very excited,” you tell him, squeezing him tight. 

He laughs lightly, sounding like himself and making you relax even more. He’s finally in a better place, and you couldn’t be happier about it. 

Scott opens your car door for you and then closes it once you’re inside. He stands there and watches as you back out, then offers you a wave before you drive away. You smile the whole way home, thankful beyond belief that your brother is doing right by himself and improving his life where he needs it. 

     When you get home, Rafe is in the kitchen. You smile at the sight of him at the stove, stirring peppers around a skillet and listening to music. You can hear the kids playing in the playroom, and when Rafe notices you come in, he steps away from the food and to you. 

“Hey, baby, how was lunch?” he asks, helping you remove your jacket. 

“It was good,” you say with a smile, “Club hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Nah, I figured as much.”

He hangs up your jacket and your purse for you, then steps back over and guides his arm around your waist. You smile and set your hands on his chest, feeling his warmth. 

“How are the kids?” you ask him. 

“Josie hid Connor’s firetruck underneath the couch, and Bo got it,” he fills you in, watching your eyes pop in horror, “He was very distraught.”

“Oh, no, poor baby,” you pout, “I’ll see if I can find another one for him tomorrow.”

Rafe grins, “You’re so good to them, they don’t even know it.”

You laugh and grab ahold of his chin lightly, pulling him down to give him a kiss. He accepts it, then offers you a small apology as he momentarily breaks away to pull the skillet off the heat and to the back burner. 

When he moves back to you, assuming the same position, you swallow your nervousness of breaching the topic, and instead, slip your hands under his shirt. 

“So, listen,” you start, “Scott got a job. He’s working nights right now, and he goes after his AA meetings. He seems really, really good.”

He nods patiently, but you can tell by his eyes that he’s not receptive whatsoever to where you’re going to take this conversation. 

“That’s good,” he replies, his voice even. 

“Yeah, it is,” you say hopefully, rising up on your tiptoes, “So, anyway, he was asking if he could see the kids on Wednesday before he has to work.”

Rafe raises a brow, “And what did you tell him?”

You swallow again and press your palms into his skin, hoping your touch will lighten him up.

“Well, I… I think it’s a good idea. It would be good for him, and the kids miss him.”

Rafe’s chest deflates against your hands, and only because you know him so well can you predict what he’s going to say next. 

“Look, sweetheart, I’m thrilled that Scott is doing better. I am. I just don’t think this is the best time for that. Josie’s still adjusting to school, and Connor’s getting settled in a new classroom and he’s on a sports team. I feel like they have enough change going on right now, you know?”

You nod slowly, but look to the floor. He covers your hands with his own and takes them, bringing both of your knuckles up to his lips to kiss. You meet his eyes then, and you both take a second to analyze the other person’s expression. 

“It’s not really a change, though,” you push, keeping your voice light, “It’s just Scott.”

“Y/N, Scott scared the shit out of both of them when he showed up drunk.”

“I know, but he apologized for that,” you reply. 

Rafe drops your hands, “That doesn’t make it okay. To be honest, I’m just not comfortable with it. I need more time to work through things with him. I’m sorry, but can we please table this for now?”

You move to speak up, but bite your tongue at the very last second when one specific thought hits you. If you told Rafe you weren’t comfortable with something, he’d never fight with you on it. He would never pressure you into anything, and the thought of doing that to him makes your stomach turn. 

“Yes, of course,” you answer, “Thank you for being straight with me. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”

Rafe shifts and sets one large palm on your hip bone, where he pulls your body closer to his. 

“I’m not saying no, sweetheart. I’m just saying that I’d like to give it a little more time and make sure Scott really sticks to this change before we bring the kids back into it. That’s all.”

You nod and offer him a smile, “I understand, Rafe. I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Thank you,” he says sweetly, “Now, Connor and I are making a grocery store run. Need anything?”

You step closer, “Coffee. And laundry pods for the washer. But not the blue and white ones—”

“The green and yellow ones, I know,” he teases, “I also put a stick of deodorant on the list for you, considering you went to throw it in the garbage this morning and fuckin’ banked the shot.”

“Excuse me,” you scoff, even though your heart swells at the fact that he not only noticed that, but also remembered it and put it on the list, “We need more bananas, too. You know what Josie’s like when we run out of those for her lunch.”

He laughs, “Yeah. Okay. Bananas, coffee, and laundry pods. I’ve got the rest of the list, but text me if you remember anything okay?”

“Okay,” you smile, “Thanks, handsome.”

He nods and signals for a kiss, grinning when you stand up on your tiptoes to give to him. When you pull back, he yells for Connor, knowing Josie will come running, too. 

“Oh, hey, did that lady ever call you back about Josie’s dance class?” he asks. 

“No,” you groan, “I’m hoping she will in the next few days. Otherwise, I’ll look somewhere else. I just heard that place is so good, I really wanted her to try it out.”

He shrugs, “She’ll be great anywhere. Come on, Connor! Shoes and jacket, hurry!”

He kisses you again quickly before he pulls away to get his own shoes and jacket, finishing in record time so he could steal just a few more kisses before the Sunday chores officially start. 

     Monday comes before you know it, and it brings a wave of destruction. Your meetings all get delayed, your work project is put on suspension, and Rose is driving you crazy about an upcoming event that you’re not even technically assigned to. 

Even more than that, Josie had a day. She refused to let go of you when you dropped her off at preschool, and after you managed to escape, they called you twice and Rafe once to report that she would not stop crying and demanding one of you to come get her. Being the parent at home on Mondays, Rafe picked her up, and she sat with him in his home office for the remainder of the day. 

     Tuesday morning finds you easier. You’re seated at your desk and fire up your work email after dropping both kids off at school — Josie did better today — when you realize that you never told Scott that the plans for tomorrow are off. 

You draft up a text message slowly over the next few hours, trying to sound equal parts assertive and sympathetic. At one o’clock, right before you send the text, your drafting is interrupted by a phone call. The nurse at Connor’s school tells you that he’s been running a fever and complaining of a stuffy nose and sore throat since before lunch. You sigh and agree to be right there to get him, then hit send on the text to Scott without thinking twice about it. 

     You return home with both Connor and Josie behind you. Well, Josie walks behind you while Connor lays in your arms, mumbling softly about how he feels cold despite his fever being high. Josie helps you the best she can to get Connor settled in his room, where you lay him in bed and put a light blanket over him, then get him a cup of water and take his temperature once more. It’s still high, so you give him a kiss and tell him to sleep for a bit before you come back up to check on him. 

“Is Connor okay, Mommy? Can we make him some soup?” Josie asks as the two of you slip out of his bedroom. 

You smile and pick her up, giving her a hug since you didn’t get to when you picked her up from school. 

“We should make him some soup,” you agree, “And, I’m sure you’re ready for your after-school snack, too.”

She grins mischievously, “Maybe.”

You laugh and carry her downstairs to the kitchen, where your phone sits on the counter. The screen fills with unanswered texts, so you set Josie down and grab it, scrolling through the messages. 

The first one you open is Rafe’s chain. Two from him — both exactly what you expected them to be. 

Just got a notification you checked Connor out of school? Is everything okay? 

I’ve got a meeting in half an hour but I can come home after if you need me. 

You look over at Josie, watching as she uses the handle on the bottom oven as a balance beam for ballet. Your heart squeezes, and you make a mental note to reach out to other dance studios in the area tomorrow. 

Quickly, you text Rafe back while stepping over to the pantry to get Josie a snack. 

He’s sick, but okay. Slight fever and head cold. Nothing to worry about. Good luck on your meeting, handsome. I love you. 

He returns the sentiment quickly, while also reminding you to call him if things change. Then, as you pour animal crackers into a bowl, you switch over to Scott’s text chain. 

First, you reread the text you sent to him. 

Hey, so I discussed things with Rafe, and we have decided to hold off on allowing the kids to come over. For now. We think it’s best to give you some more adjustment time, and then we can revisit the idea. I’m sorry, Scott. But, I will try to do better by sending you more pics of them. Just hang in there. Love you. 

You know it’s not perfect, but it has to do. It gets your point across, it doesn’t blame Rafe, and it’s sugar coated just enough for him. 

His reply follows your message, and the length looks drastically different. 

Y/N, I’m adjusted. I just want to see them. Didn’t you tell Rafe I’m doing better? Why is he keeping them from me?

“Mommy!” Josie calls, standing at the kitchen window, “There’s a red bird on the fence!” 

You frown at Scott’s text but lock your phone, then carry Josie’s snack over to her. You look out the window to where she’s pointing and find the cardinal that’s holding her attention so well. 

“Wow, beautiful, huh?” you ask, and she nods before you say, “Okay, come on. Let’s sit at the table and have a snack.”

She obeys and sits in her usual seat at the table, smiling widely when you follow her. You sit with her while she eats and talk to her about her day at school, listening intently even as she tells you the same story for ten entire minutes. 

You perk up when you hear the front door close. You know Rafe wouldn’t be coming into the house with his meeting coming up, and a fresh wave of worry passes through your body. 

“Y/N?”

You relax when you hear Scott’s voice, but only for a second. He knows he’s not allowed to come to the house; you had talked Rafe out of taking Scott’s key from him after his latest episode. 

Josie, like you, recognises the voice, and practically tips her chair right over as she attempts to get up. 

“Uncle Scott!” 

Her scream is loud, and she takes off from the kitchen before you can stop her. You groan internally, scrambling to already try and figure out what you’re going to say to Rafe. Despite it all, you follow Josie out of the kitchen and to the foyer, where she is currently diving into Scott’s open arms. 

“Hey, lovebug,” he grins widely, “Wasn’t sure you’d be home from school yet. I’m so happy to see you!”

She locks herself around his neck and presses kiss after kiss to his cheek, laughing when he laughs. 

“I’ve missed you,” she tells him, “Where have you been?”

He smiles sadly, then returns her kisses with his own, “I’ve been getting myself together. For you and Connor. Are you proud of me?”

“Yes,” she giggles, “Want to have an after school snack with me?”

His smile at her question tells you just how much the question means to him, and when he looks over at you for approval, you just can’t say no. Not to Scott; not to your baby brother who has struggled so much for so long, and just needs a little bit of love to keep him going. You can’t fault him for that, and no part of you is able to even consider kicking him out. Even if it’s not what you and Rafe have discussed and agreed on, you hope that when you explain, he will understand. 

You nod your head, and he turns and kisses her cheek again, like he just can’t help himself. 

“I would love to,” he agrees. 

Scott carries her into the kitchen and you follow. He sets her down and lets her run over to her chair, but he hangs back just long enough to talk to you. 

“I’m sorry, I just came over to talk about your text. I didn’t think she’d be here—”

“It’s fine,” you reply, waving him off, “Connor’s home sick from school, so I picked her up because I can’t leave him to go get her later.”

He nods, “Do you need me to bring you anything for him? Soup? Gatorade?”

“No, I have it covered,” you reply, “Go. She’s waiting so patiently for you.”

He chuckles when he sees her sitting on her knees in the chair, waving him over with an animal cracker half shoved into her mouth. Without hesitation, he rushes over and takes a seat beside her, stealing one of her animal crackers and laughing when she protests. 

You puff out your cheeks and check the time, wondering if you can squeeze in a quick call to Rafe before his meeting. When you decide you can’t, you set your phone back down. You’re here, you’re supervising, and he won’t be mad, you tell yourself. Scott can’t do anything wrong with you here, too. 

Your phone’s sharp ring draws you out of your head. When you look to see who’s calling, you gasp and practically pounce on the phone — the dance school that you’ve been trying to get Josie into. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Cameron?”

“Yes,” you reply. 

“Hi there. My name is Chelsea, I’m calling to see if you are still interested in signing your daughter, Josephine, up for dance class?”

“Yes,” you say enthusiastically, waving to Scott and then holding up your finger as you step into the living room, “Yes, I am. She’s really excited to start.”

“Oh, wonderful. We actually have an opening today in our three o’clock class. It’s only one spot, but if you could bring her by today, I can almost guarantee it would be hers.”

You freeze, “Today?”

“Yes ma’am. Spots here tend to go fast, but I saw your last name, and we wanted to offer you and your daughter the spot, first.”

“Oh,” you say, brain running a mile a minute as you try to figure out how to make this all work out, “Um, yes, thank you, we’d love the spot. I just have a few things to work out, but I will do my best to get her there by three o’clock. Does she need to bring anything?”

“We’ll just do a trial run for today, so we have everything she will need here. If you all are interested in continuing after today, we can give you a list of everything she will need for future classes.”

You barely even hear her words, too busy trying to figure out how you’re supposed to be in two places at once. You want Josie to be in this dance school desperately, but with Connor being so sick, you don’t know how to make it happen. 

“Thank you, I’ll try to work it out and have her there at three,” you say, trying to sound more chipper than you are, “Thank you so much for calling.”

“Yes ma’am. See you soon!”

You disconnect the call and let out a long sigh, having wanted that phone call to come at a better time than just now. You wander back into the kitchen and find Scott and Josie still giggling at the kitchen table, and when they both look over at you, you offer a smile. 

“Who was that?” Scott asks. 

You give Josie a smile, “It was the dance studio I’ve been trying to get Josie into. They have an opening for this afternoon.”

“No way!” she exclaims, “Mommy, we have to go!”

Scott can see it on your face before you can even say a word. He watches as you subconsciously glance back over your shoulder, desperate to check on Connor and not sure what to do. Under normal circumstances, you’d call Rafe — at least to just talk it out. But with him in a meeting and unavailable, you don’t have that option. 

“I can take her,” Scott volunteers, “I know you won’t leave Connor, so let me take her to dance. Just there and back, I promise.”

“Yes!” Josie screams, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, Mommy, yes!”

You shake your head, “Scott—”

“Y/N, let me help you out,” he says, “Come on. I can do it.”

“Mommy,” Josie repeats, “I want Uncle Scott to take me to dance.”

“Scott,” you whisper, “You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“And you’re drowning,” he points out, “I swear. I can totally handle it. I’ll even video the whole thing for you. Please, come on, let me prove myself to you. To Rafe.”

At the mention of your husband, your eyes find your phone. You want to call him more than anything, but you can’t. Then, you think about the agreement amongst parents when they’re raising children together. There are so many split second decisions that a parent has to make, so they trust that their partner will make the right one. Rafe trusts that you will make the right decision for your shared children, and right now, you can only see one. 

“Okay,” you sigh. Josie’s squeals interrupt you and Scott grins, grabbing her from her chair as you add, “Just there and back. No ice cream, no playground. Just to the studio and back, alright?”

“Alright,” Scott repeats back, still smiling, “We’re gonna have so much fun, right, lovebug?”

“Right!” she squeals.

“Josie, go get your shoes, okay?” you say, watching her nod feverishly, like she just can’t wait for Scott to put her down so they can go to dance. 

“Okay!” she says quickly, rushing off. 

Scott laughs as he watches her go, and when he turns back to you, his expression falls. 

“I need you to take extensive notes,” you say sternly, watching his smile grow once more. 

“You got it,” he replies. 

You allow yourself to smile, too, and he pulls you into a hug. He squeezes his thankfulness into you, and only pulls away when Josie returns with her shoes. 

     You hurry upstairs to check on Connor after putting Josie in her car seat and into Scott’s truck. As you feel Connor’s forehead, he stirs and groans, but he still feels very warm. 

“Mama?” he whispers into the air. 

“Hey, baby,” you reply, “How do you feel?”

“Not good,” he whines, “I’m cold. And I need a tissue.”

You grab the box from his nightstand and offer him one, then help him sit up. He blows his nose and hands the tissue back to you, then lays back down. 

“Go back to sleep. I’ll bring you some more medicine in a little bit, okay?” 

He nods. His lower lip juts out in the pout he always gives you when he’s sick, so you lean down and kiss his forehead before you stand. You retuck his blanket around him, then use careful steps to escape the dark room. 

Downstairs, you hurry into the kitchen and start heating up from soup for Connor, then pour out the next dose of his medicine. You make him a nice tray of everything so he can eat in bed; complete with crackers, a water bottle, and his iPad so he can watch a show while he eats. Just as you’re putting the finishing touches on it, ready to take it upstairs and check on him again, your phone buzzes on the counter. And buzzes. And buzzes. 

Scott’s contact picture lights up your screen, and you furrow your brows as you check the time. They should just be getting to the dance studio, and you wonder if someone had questions for him that he couldn’t answer. 

“Hello?” you say innocently. 

“Y/N,” he sighs, almost in relief, but his voice also holds another emotion, too, “Listen, don’t freak out.”

You freeze, “What? Why?”

The worst possible scenarios go through your brain instantly, and you begin to listen for signs of Josie in the background. Her laugh, her whine at Scott to hurry up. 

“Just let me get it all out, first,” he demands, then groans in pain, “Fuck, okay, we got into an accident. Josie is fine. Not hurt at all. I think I broke my arm, so I’m in an ambulance. They’re taking both of us to the hospital, but she’s right here, she’s good, she’s with me.”

You suddenly can’t suck in a deep breath. All you can picture is Josie in the back of an ambulance, hurt. Josie in a car accident. Josie being scared because she doesn’t understand what’s happening. 

Tears blur your vision just at the thought of her being alone, and the inhale that you try to suck in is sharp and quick. 

“Let me speak to her,” you choke out. 

Scott sighs but complies with your request, and you listen to their muffled voices before you get clarity. 

“Mommy, Uncle Scott is hurt,” she tells you, and just the sound of her voice brings relief to your body, mind, and heart. 

“Josie, baby, are you okay?” you ask her, letting the tears run without a care in the world. 

“Yes, Mommy. They let me put the siren on.”

You laugh, then cry again, “Oh, that’s awesome. Listen, Mommy’s gonna come pick you up, okay? Can you just stay with Uncle Scott for a little bit?”

Josie immediately whines, “No, he’s hurt. I have to stay with him. I told Daddy I am staying.”

A fresh wave of anxiety runs through your body. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind yet, but apparently, it had to Josie. 

“You told Daddy?” you ask weakly, “When?”

“I called him,” she answers, “I was scared, and wanted Daddy.”

“Oh,” your eyes flutter shut, “Okay, honey. Just stay with Uncle Scott until I see you. I love you so much, Jo.”

“Love you, too, Mommy,” she says, sounding perfectly fine, perfectly normal, and all you want to do is get to her. 

She hands the phone back to Scott, and you hear him grunt again in pain before his voice comes through the speaker. 

“”Y/N, I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “It wasn’t my fault, I swear, I did everything right—”

“I’m on my way,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear any of the details right now, “Just… I love you. I’m glad you’re okay other than the arm.”

He takes a minute to answer, and you can see the exact expression on his face as he debates what’s best to do right now. 

“Thanks,” he eventually says, “I love you, too.”

“See you soon,” you mumble, then disconnect the call before either one of you can say anything else. 

The first thing you do is check your text messages. Rafe has sent nothing, said nothing. When it comes to Rafe, you know silence from him is worse than anything else. You take a deep breath and attempt to type out a text to him, but delete it before you can find the words to explain to him any part of it. 

With a long sigh, you hurry up the stairs and into Connor’s room, forgetting all about his soup and medicine. He sits up when you enter, and when he sees the expression on your face, his eyes widen. 

“What’s wrong, Mama?” he asks, coughing after he finishes his question. 

“We have to go, baby. Can you come with me, please?” 

He nods and stands from his bed, bringing his blanket along with him. You put socks on his feet and slide his shoes on, then carry him down the stairs, wrapped in his blanket. Your mind can’t stop running wild as you picture Josie in Scott’s truck, scared out of her mind. You don’t even notice the tears that fall until Connor reaches up and brushes them away with his finger. Giving him a kiss on the forehead, you strap him into his car seat and pull back to look at his face. 

“I’m so sorry, handsome,” you whisper, “I know you don’t feel well, but we have to go pick up Josie.”

“Okay, Mama,” he replies, even going so far as to offer you a small smile. 

You’re grateful for it, and you show him such. With a kiss on the cheek, you close the car door and climb into the driver’s side, all while trying not to burst into tears again. 

Your knuckles turn white as you squeeze the steering wheel, glancing up at Connor every five seconds in the rear view mirror. He’s still okay, still staring out the window, but you’re paranoid about every single car that even comes close to yours. 

The drive to the hospital finally comes to an end, and you’ve barely parked your car before you’re out of it again. Connor is once again placed on your hip, and you rush in from the parking lot. 

Once you’re inside, you hurry to the closest nurse you can find. She directs you to a desk, who directs you to another nurse, who, finally, tells you what room number to go to. Connor buries his head in your neck and starts to cough again, and the guilt piles on top of your chest. 

You finally spot the room number on the wall and rush to it, just needing to lay eyes on her. To assess her for injuries and make sure that she really is okay. When you enter, you relax instantly. Scott is laying in the bed with his arm in a sling, and Josie is seated in the middle of his chest, giggling as he pokes her stomach. They both look so happy despite their current state and what they’ve been through in the past hour. 

“Josie,” you sigh in relief, setting Connor down in the singular chair before hurrying to her and pulling her into your arms. 

“Mommy,” she cheers, “Look, Uncle Scott got a boo-boo.”

You cradle her head and rock her in your arms, then glance at Scott. He’s giving you a sad smile and a wave using his bad arm, but you shake your head at him. 

“Is it broken?” you ask him. 

“Yeah,” he replies with a shrug, “I’ll get a cool brace for it, though.”

You roll your eyes, “Scott—”

“Y/N,” he stops you, his expression suddenly serious, “The guy ran a red light. I didn’t even see him coming until— Look, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my fault.”

“I know,” you nod, and you mean it. 

He’s your brother, and you believe him. Especially because he needs you to so desperately, given that he won’t stop trying to explain himself. 

“Good. Now, I have to use the bathroom, then I want to see what’s going on with Little Cam. You don’t look so hot, dude.”

Connor shrugs, “Been better.”

Scott chuckles and stands from the hospital bed, taking two steps over to Connor. 

“You like my sling?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Connor smiles, “Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m tough.”

Connor laughs and so does Josie, and for a brief moment, you feel emotionally stable. You feel at peace, knowing that everyone is okay. 

Then, the door pushes open, and reality slaps you right in the face. You turn too late, and Rafe’s eyes have already assessed the room. He’s frozen for a moment, long enough for you to set Josie down, because you know she’ll want to run to him. 

Instead of waiting on that, however, Rafe crosses the room in a few strides, and you figure out just a beat too late what’s going to happen. 

With a clenched jaw and a balled fist, Rafe states at Scott right as he starts to explain what happened. 

“Yo, Rafe—” he starts, but Rafe’s fist connects with his jaw and knocks him flat on the ground. 

“Oh, my God,” you yell, grabbing Josie and holding her against you while you reach for Connor’s hand. 

Your only focus is getting them both out of the room. You know Scott can fight his own battles, and there’s nothing you can do to talk to Rafe when he’s like this. Looking like he knows this, Scott remains on the ground, leaving Rafe with nothing. He’s dead silent as he turns and faces you and the kids, looking away from you within the same second your eyes meet. 

“Josephine,” Rafe says in relief, crossing over to you and pulling her from you without a word or a look, “Hey, princess. My girl. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?” 

She nods, “Yes, Daddy. I just got scared.”

“I know you did, baby. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to comfort you. Do you have any injuries?”

Josie doesn’t respond right away, and you take it as an opportunity. 

“She’s okay. I checked her when I got here.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker to you for only a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look at you with anything besides pure admiration and love. This time, his glance is cold, calculated, and practically unrecognizable. 

“Let me take you home,” he says to her, “I’m gonna take you home, and nobody will ever take you anywhere again.”

“Except for you?” she asks. 

“Except for me,” he replies with a nod, “Let’s take Bubby home, too, okay?”

Your heart sinks as Rafe looks down at Connor, who is gripping his blanket tightly. When Rafe offers him a hand, Connor slips out of your grasp and takes it. 

You frown, “I can take—”

“Y/N, I’m so damn pissed right now. You need to stay with your brother, since that’s clearly where you want to be.”

He doesn’t even look at you as he says it, which is what makes the tears come. He’s too busy fussing over Josie’s hair and Connor’s runny nose. Rafe grabs him a tissue, then tosses it when Connor’s done. 

You look over at Scott and find him still seated on the floor, blood running down his chin from his nose, and he’s just staring at the kids. You’re sure he thinks this could be his final time seeing them in a long time, and you feel sick over that. 

“Rafe,” you choke out, “Please, just listen—”

“No,” he snaps, “Not to you. I’m taking them home.”

Connor whimpers, but when Rafe takes his hand again, he doesn’t object as his dad starts to lead him out of the room. Nobody says a word, and before you can blink, the three of them are gone. 

“Fuck,” Scott groans from the floor, “Y/N, I’m so—”

“Don’t,” you shake your head, turning back to him and observing his state before stepping over and offering him a hand, “Let’s just get you cleaned up.”

     Scott gets released from the hospital a few hours later, and you drive him back to his apartment. Neither of you speak about anything other than the weather and your parents, because neither of you know what to say. You want to pretend like everything is fine. At least for now. 

You set him up on his couch with dinner, snacks, and a blanket, then let him know that you love him no matter what. In return, he offers you his room if you need a place to crash, and you almost burst into tears right then and there. 

      By the time you make it home, you know the kids will already be in bed. You debate taking the long way, but the fact that Connor is sick draws you back to the house so you can check on him. 

You pull your car into the garage and shut it off, then get out quickly before you can debate sitting inside for a while. You sigh and push open the door to the house, not knowing exactly what you’re walking into with Rafe.

The house is dark and silent. There’s no plate of dinner sitting on the counter for you like he usually leaves behind, and no light on in the living room to guide your path to bed. With a heavy heart, you head upstairs and peek your head into Connor’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep with a box of tissues and an empty medicine cup on his nightstand. 

Of course Rafe took care of everything. 

Quietly, you close his bedroom door and cross the hall over to Josie’s bedroom. When you peek in, you find her bed to be empty, but her stuffed animals are missing. Immediately, you know where she is. 

You hesitate at the door to your shared bedroom with Rafe for a brief moment, then push open the door and walk inside. Rafe’s bedside lamp is on, which allows you to see him lying on his side of the bed on his side, with Josie facing him. She’s tucked in his arms and sleeping soundly, but Rafe is wide awake and watching every single breath she draws. 

He never looks over at you. For a moment, you wonder if he even realizes you came into the room. When your lips part to speak, no sound comes out. You don’t know what to say or where to start.

“She could’ve been killed,” Rafe says evenly, like he’s stating a fact rather than getting emotional. His eyes don’t leave her for even a split second. 

“Rafe—” you start, but he sits up carefully. 

“Don’t wake her. I just got her to sleep.”

You silence yourself and stare at the two of them for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. After a moment, Rafe leans forward and brushes his lips over Josie’s forehead, then stands from the bed. He walks over to you, watching as you stand completely still in hopes that he’ll just take you into his arms and tell you that everything will be okay. Instead, he clenches his jaw and points to the door of the bedroom, silently telling you to walk through it. 

Rafe follows out of the room behind you and closes the door softly. You walk out to the couch and sit down, watching his movements extra carefully. He’s in sweatpants and a black tee shirt that you’ve always loved on him, but never told him so. 

You watch as he takes a deep breath, then places his hands on his hips. He doesn’t sit; he stands in front of you and keeps his eyes on anything but you. 

“Why was she with your brother?” 

His tone is harsh; like nothing you say in this moment could make sense to him. None of it will make any difference at all. 

“Um,” you shift, your voice shaky, “She— no, okay, the dance studio called and— wait—”

“Y/N,” Rafe stops you, exhaling loudly, “I just want you to explain why she was with your brother.”

You nod, “Okay. Sorry. So, I texted Scott and told him that we weren’t comfortable having the kids see him right now. He came over here to talk to me in person, thinking the kids weren’t home, and Josie saw him. So, naturally, she wouldn’t let him go, and he was just gonna have a snack with her and then leave. But, then, that dance studio called and said they had a spot for Josie this afternoon, and the spot was going to be given away if we couldn’t make it. I didn’t want to leave Connor, and Scott offered, and— Rafe, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, hands still proudly glued to his hips. His eyes close under the explanation, and the way his jaw is set tells you that, although it might make sense to him, he still isn’t happy or satisfied with the explanation. 

“You should have called me,” he says quietly, “I would’ve helped you work it out. I would’ve come home.”

“You were in a meeting, I didn’t want to bother you—”

“Bother me, Y/N!” he exclaims, silencing you, “Bother me. Every time. If it means I don’t get the fucking call that one of my kids has been in a car accident with someone I didn’t even want them around in the first place. How could you let her go with Scott? After we discussed it and agreed that he was off limits, you just—”

“I didn’t see any other choice,” you speak up, “I didn’t want them to give the spot away.”

“Let them give the damn spot away, then!” he cries, shaking his head, “I told you, she’d be fine dancing anywhere, but you were so dead set on this one place, and that was fine with me until you shipped her off with your brother and he almost got our daughter killed—”

“Rafe, the accident wasn’t his fault,” you say, finally having the courage to stand, “He loves her. He would never put her at risk.”

He laughs then, and it’s deep, loud, sarcastic. Your eyes hit the floor and you swallow, wanting nothing more than his touch. Despite Rafe being the one causing the ache in your chest, you know he’s the only one who can fix it. He’s the only one who can ever fix it. 

“He did put her at risk, Y/N. Many times. Every time he showed up drunk, every time he stumbled down the stairs. It’s not a fucking coincidence that this happened when she was with him.”

You draw back, shaking your head, “That’s not fair. It could’ve happened to anyone. It could’ve been me—”

“Don’t,” he says immediately, stepping closer to you, “Don’t you dare go there. It wouldn’t have. It can’t.”

“Why not, Rafe?” you question, raising a brow, angry that he wants to blame everything on Scott when you don’t feel it’s his fault, “You’d blame Scott for everything if you could. If I had decided to take Josie to dance, it would’ve been me and the kids at that intersection—-”

“No!” he shouts, silencing you once again, “Stop it. It can’t happen again, Y/N. I almost lost you once, it cannot fucking happen again.”

Your lips glue shut as you realize what this is truly about for him. He runs a hand through his hair and sucks in a deep breath, letting the silence fall between the two of you. 

You know exactly how Rafe has internalized the accident you were in the night of Midsummers with Topper and Kelce. You know, because he’s told you. How he had nightmares for ages afterward, how he still will grip the steering wheel with two hands when he drives with you in the car at night. How he thinks about it every year at Midsummers, regardless of how much time has passed. 

Now, you can’t imagine what this will do to him. His Josie, his baby girl. Getting that call was not easy on him, you’re sure, and for a moment, you understand why he’s so angry with you for putting him in that situation. 

“Rafe,” you whisper, watching the way he looks up at you with vulnerability in his eyes, “I’m so, so sorry.”

He nods, like he really just needed to hear that. You take a step closer, but before you can reach for him, he steps back. 

“I need to sleep on it all. We can regroup in the morning.”

You swallow and nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You settle for tucking them behind your back, squirming under his gaze. 

“I’ll sleep upstairs. In case Connor needs anything,” you say. 

“Alright,” he nods, looking at you like he’s considering something. 

“Alright,” you repeat. 

He sighs, like he’s annoyed with himself, then steps forward and cups your cheeks. He stares at you for a moment before placing a kiss on your forehead forcefully, then drops you from his grip completely. 

You step forward out of habit, wanting his touch back. Instead of reaching for him, you just stare, knowing that he can tell what you want but refuses to give it to you. 

“I love you, Rafe,” you whisper to him. 

Even as angry as he is, he doesn’t miss a beat, “I love you, too.”

He nods, then turns around and leaves you like that. In the middle of the living room with his kiss still lingering on your forehead, and his words sitting in front of you, etching themselves into your heart so you never forget them. 

     When you wake in the morning, your first thought is of Connor. You don’t allow yourself to think of anything else, because it weighed on you all night, until you just couldn’t take it anymore. You cried in the guest room bed. Buried your face in a pillow and sobbed as you relived the day, your choices, and what became of them. You cry for Josie, for Rafe, for Scott. You cry because all you’d wanted to do was make the right choice for all of them, and you wound up only making the wrong ones. 

So, when you wake up with swollen under eyes and a red nose, the only thing you allow yourself to think about is Connor. 

He’s asleep when you enter his room, and when you feel his forehead, he feels the same as he had last night. You make a mental note to bring up more medicine for him, then take his temperature. 

Slipping back out of his room, you head downstairs. Your stomach twists as you hear Rafe talking to Josie in the kitchen, and the thought of facing him without knowing exactly how he feels today makes you anxious. 

As you walk in, you find Josie sitting on the counter and Rafe at the stove, where he flips a pancake in the pan. Josie giggles at something he said, and Rafe laughs back. His eyes catch on you, and for a brief moment, he smiles. Then, he drops it and looks down. 

“Hi, Mommy!” Josie cheers, “Daddy’s staying home today! He said I could, too.”

“He did, huh?” you smile at her, walking around the island to embrace her. 

“Thought I could, considering we’re not consulting each other on decisions anymore,” Rafe mutters. 

For Josie’s sake, you ignore him, but you stare at him while you do it. In no way can you tell Rafe how to feel or act, but you’re shocked at how openly petty he’s being. 

“Rafe—”

He cuts you off when he spins around with a plate in his hand, then gives Josie a wide smile. 

“Alright, princess, your breakfast is ready. Go sit at the table for me.”

He carries Josie’s plate over as you help her down from the counter, then watch her take off to her seat. Once she’s settled, Rafe comes back into the kitchen, but he doesn’t spare you a single glance. 

“How’d you sleep?” you try, stepping closer. 

“I didn’t,” he replies as he pours more pancake batter into the pan, “She did. All night.”

You swallow, “Good. So, listen, I was hoping—”

“I’m taking her to my parents’ today. We’ll swim and visit with Topper and Ellie. I figure Connor needs quiet, anyway.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod weakly, “Do you think we could talk later, though?”

“I don’t know.”

You frown and look at the floor, then glance over at the coffee pot. What’s usually filled halfway for you is now empty, and you know the pancakes he’s making on the stove are for himself. It makes your heart ache, to think that he’s so angry with you that he no longer wants to take care of you. 

“Rafe, I just… I want to fix it,” you practically beg, “Please.”

He drops the spatula on the counter before he turns to you, keeping his voice low on account of Josie. 

“This isn’t just something you can fix, Y/N. You hurt me. You prioritize your brother over our kids and you always have. Every time he stumbles in drunk, you always tell him it’s okay. It’s not. This time, you let him take our daughter and they got into an accident. She could’ve gotten really hurt. I’m not okay with that, and I never will be. Until you can get your priorities straight, I’m not interested in what you have to say.”

You step back from him and swallow the lump in your throat. Instead of just rolling over, you want to explain your thought process — have an actual conversation instead of bickering over the stove.

“He’s sick, Rafe. He’s an alcoholic. Guilting him every time he comes to us like that isn’t going to help him,” you reply, trying to stay strong despite the tears stinging your eyes, “And, how dare you accuse me of not prioritizing our family.  This is my top priority— my only priority. I made a judgment call, and I was wrong, I admit it. If I could go back and change it, I would.”

He shrugs, looking back down at the pancake, “But, you can’t.”

His left hand rests on the counter where he leans, supporting his body. You want to reach out and grab it, pull him into you and keep him close as you tell him that you’re sorry over and over again. You give in before you can help yourself, and when you cover his hand with your own, he doesn’t pull away immediately.

“Rafe, please,” you beg, but you’re not sure for what exactly. His eyes. His love. His forgiveness. 

“Don’t,” he says, pulling hand from under yours, “You really hurt me this time.”

Before you can say anything else, he plates his pancakes, then turns to face Josie. 

She grins when she sees him holding up his own plate, and he puts on his parent mask as he nears her. 

“Can we eat together, baby?” he asks enthusiastically, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was absolutely, positively, fine. 

     After Josie and Rafe leave, you bring Connor downstairs. You cuddle with him when he asks for it, you make him soup, give him more medicine, and watch Paw Patrol until he falls asleep on your lap. 

You, however, don’t nap. You stare at your phone screen, at a drafted text to Rafe as your thumb hovers over the send button. 

I hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Josie. I never would. The three of you are my priority. We can talk more when you’re ready, but I just want you to know that I’m thinking about what you said and I want to work this out with you more than anything. Please come home. 

You debate taking off the plea for him to come home, but you decide to leave it and press send. When you see that it went through, you put your phone down and take a deep breath, then leave your eyes glued to the screen so you can see the second he responds. 

When your phone does light up again, you pounce on it. You frown when you see Maddie’s name at the top of the new text, asking you why Rafe canceled the dinner plans that you two had with Maddie and Kelce tonight — which you’d completely forgotten about. 

You reply quickly and tell her that Connor is sick, and debate asking her if she can talk on the phone so you can get advice. However, you decide against it and fire off your excuse just as Rafe’s response comes in. 

We will pick up dinner and be there soon. How’s Connor? 

You smile, because something about this feels like progress. Silently, you look down to the sleeping boy, running your hand through his hair because you just can’t help yourself. 

He’s good. Sleeping off the fever, I hope. Thank you for getting dinner!

He won’t respond to that and you know it, but you don’t care. At least he gave you one response. 

     Connor wakes just before Josie and Rafe get home, and with a perfect temperature, he says he wants to stay downstairs for dinner. You nod and give him a hug, and when you hear the garage door open, you wave him up and into the kitchen. 

“Mommy!” Josie shouts when she enters the house, “Look, Daddy got me a princess sticker!”

She holds it up to you proudly as you hug her tight, “Oh, I love it, Jo.”

She beams and moves over to show it to Connor as Rafe walks in. He holds a pizza in his left hand and Josie’s bag in his right. You don’t miss the name on the pizza box — your favorite place, meaning he had to drive fifteen extra minutes each way to get it instead of getting the easy, shitty pizza down the street. 

“You got Lighthouse,” you say, biting your lip to hide a smile as you acknowledge his drive to the pizza place.

“Yeah, I—” he stops himself and closes his eyes, then shakes his head before repeating, “Yeah.”

You take a daring step forward, “Thank you.”

He nods once, and when you see him swallow down his impulse to reach for you, to hug you and kiss you and ask about your day, he looks over to the kids. 

“Hey, Connor. How are you feeling, buddy?”

Rafe steps past you to get to him, and the pizza you’d just been swooning over suddenly doesn’t seem as appetizing. Regardless, you get plates out and divide up slices while Rafe works behind you to get everyone drinks. He pours juice out for the kids and tells them to sit at the table, then gets a beer for himself. He doesn’t ask you what you want because he already knows, and he sets the glass of white wine at your place setting.

Dinner is quiet, but you pretend it’s only because Josie is tired from swimming all day and Connor isn’t feeling well. Everything feels off because you and Rafe didn’t work today — you told Rose that Connor was sick — and Josie didn’t go to school. It feels like it should be a weekend, but it’s not. 

You want to ask Rafe if he plans on going back to work tomorrow. If he wants to sleep next to you tonight, because you want to sleep next to him. You want to ask him everything, anything, just to get him to look at you. 

After dinner, Rafe volunteers himself to do bath and bedtime, which leaves you downstairs to clean up the small mess from the meal. As you clean, you spot a tub of ice cream in the freezer and pull it out, smiling to yourself at your little idea. 

     When Rafe comes back downstairs, he doesn’t look for you. Instead, he makes his way into your shared bedroom, already peeling off his shirt in preparation for a shower when he freezes. You’re sitting on his side of the bed with two small bowls of ice cream and that pout on your lips that you know he loves. He visibly softens at the sight, and when you hold up the bowl, his jaw ticks. 

“You’re something else,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, as he crosses the room shirtless. 

You give him a small smile as he plants himself beside you and accepts the bowl. His knee touches yours, and you feel giddy inside when he doesn’t pull himself away. 

“I’m trying, Rafe,” you whisper as he takes a bite, staring down at the bowl instead of you, “I’m trying to figure out what to do. Because I miss you. And I know I made a mistake. But I don’t want to cut my brother off in the process of working this out. He’s doing better, and I’m afraid that would trigger him into a relapse, or something.”

“I get that,” he murmurs. 

“So, let’s talk about it. All three of us. Let’s set clear boundaries and we can even make a timeline—”

“Y/N,” Rafe practically laughs, “I already did that with you. I told you that I wasn’t ready. I set my boundary, and you crossed it.”

You swallow, “I know, but I think it will help if Scott is clued in, too. That way, wires don’t get crossed, and we can all—”

“We can all what?” he scoffs, standing up, “Live happily ever after? Scott can worm his way back into our kids’ lives? I cave on a lot of shit for you, Y/N, but this is not something you can ask me to do.”

“Rafe, I’m not asking you to change how you feel,” you reply, your voice small and pleading, as if silently begging him to sit back down with you, “Please, I’m not. I’m just trying to make everyone happy.”

He shakes his head and lets his eyes close, rolling them behind his lids, “That’s the problem with you. You’re always so focused on how everyone else feels. You’re so afraid to tell Scott ‘no’ because you’re afraid you’ll be responsible for a relapse if you do. You know what, Y/N? You’re allowed to be selfish. You’re allowed to stand up for yourself and our children. Scott is a grown ass man, and his choices are his own. You baby the fuck out of him, and it needs to stop.”

You digest Rafe’s words, letting them hang in the air between the two of you. On one hand, you want to fight back. You want to tell him that Scott is your family, and you’re just trying to help. On the other hand, you see how trying to help turned into Josie being in an accident. Then, you hear Rafe’s words in your head once more. 

I cave on a lot of shit for you. 

He does, and you know it. With a deep breath, you nod your head, willing to sacrifice for him the way he always does for you — without a second thought. 

“Okay,” you whisper, watching his eyes dart to you, “Alright. I’ll take space. I’ll work on it. Whatever is best for you and the kids, I will do that.”

Rafe stares at you like that’s the last thing he expected you to say. His hands meet his hips and he assesses you from head to toe before swallowing. 

“Maybe you should sleep on that decision,” he says carefully. 

You shake your head, ignoring the stinging in your eyes. He watches you carefully as you stand up and step over to him, then place a gentle hand on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, and you want to smile at the thought of still being able to do that to him after all this time. 

“I don’t need to. You’re right, I let people walk all over me because I don’t want to disappoint anyone. But, our marriage is my priority, and our children are my priority, and I need to do better. I’m sorry, Rafe, I’m so sorry.”

His eyes close when your lips ghost over his cheek. His fists ball at his sides as he fights the urge to pull you in, to forget it all and just let his body take over. You move down and kiss along his jawline, then back up to his mouth. You let your lips hover for a moment, giving him time to object, before you lean closer. 

“Y/N,” he whispers at the very last second, “You can’t just tell me what I want to hear because we’re in a fight. You need to figure this shit out for yourself.”

“Rafe,” you sigh, but he shakes his head. 

“I need some time, too. This really rattled me, and I need to figure out how I want to proceed.”

You furrow your brows, “How you want to proceed? Like, with us?”

You fear the answer more than anything, but you need to hear it. 

“With everything,” he replies, “I just… I need sleep. So do you.”

You nod but don’t say a word, standing there and thinking about the melting ice cream that sits on your bed. 

Rafe takes a deep breath and watches as you avoid his eyes, then sighs and steps forward. You think he might reach out to touch you, grab you, kiss you, anything. Instead, he picks up his pillow from his side of the bed and steps back, offering you half a smile. 

“I’ll be on the couch,” he mumbles, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you reply. 

He picks up the two ice cream bowls and carries them to the door, turning back and staring at the scene in front of him for a moment. You, still standing on his side of the bed, where you know you’ll sleep tonight. 

“Love you,” he whispers. 

“Love you, too.”

He nods and then closes the door behind him. Only then do you fall into his side of the bed and inhale his scent on the sheets, allowing your tears to fall right where you lay. You don’t grab a pillow, you don’t cover yourself with a blanket. You just cry until your body grows so tired that it forces you to sleep, with swollen eyes and a regretful heart. 

     You jolt awake to the sound of the doorknob to your bedroom rattling up and down a few times, which immediately has you sitting up in bed. Your first thought is that it’s Connor trying to get in because he’s sick, and your heart sinks at the thought of him having gotten worse. 

Which is why, when Rafe comes rushing into the room, your eyes grow wide. He’s shirtless and his hair is a mess, but more than that, he looks completely terrified. Your heart races as he starts over to you at a fast pace, lips parted like he’s trying to speak, but can’t. 

“Rafe, what is it?” you ask softly. 

His breaths are shallow and jagged, and when he tries to inhale, it seems like he can’t. You scoot closer to the edge of the bed, and when he rounds the mattress and gets to you, he sinks to his knees in front of you. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers in relief, beginning to check you from top to bottom with his eyes and hands, “Fuck, thank God.”

His palms grip your forearms and he flips them over to check for any sort of marking or injury, then moves down your body to your legs. He runs his hands over every square inch of your skin, and you let him. 

“Of course I’m okay,” you reply, grabbing one of his hands in yours, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

He lets out a long breath, then shakes his head, but his hands never leave you. He grips you tight, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go for even a moment. 

“Nothing, nothing,” he rushes, “Just a bad dream, I guess. Felt real.”

You tense, “Are you having nightmares again?”

He shrugs, but when you cup his cheek with your free hand, he nods. 

“Yeah,” he admits shyly, “I, um, I know we’re in a weird place right now, but—”

“Come to bed,” you demand, tugging him in. 

He nods, as if that’s exactly what he wanted you to say. You scoot over just enough for him to crawl onto the mattress, then bury yourself in him the moment he’s laying flat. His arms wrap around you and your head presses against his heart; this time racing for a different reason. 

Just as you settle and the room falls silent, you debate what to say. If you should ask any questions or just let him be. Rafe speaks, silencing your mind. 

“Y/N,” he whispers into the darkness, “I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me,” you encourage, squeezing him slightly. 

He takes a long moment to start, but when he does, you can tell by the shakiness in his voice that he’s emotional.

“I think part of the reason I got so upset with you was because I was very aware of the fact that it could’ve been the three of you at that intersection. Even though you let Scott take her against my wishes, you still made the right choice, somehow. Because, I swear, if I had gotten a call that all of you were at the hospital, I think I would’ve had a heart attack right then and there in my office.”

“Rafe,” you whine, cuddling closer. 

He shakes his head, “Let me finish, okay, baby?”

“Okay,” you whisper. 

“I’m terrified that something will happen one day. That I won’t be there to protect you, or stop it, or fix it, and this whole thing really brought that fear out of me. I know that I seem overprotective with the kids, especially with Scott, but I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to them. To you. You’re my entire world, Y/N. I just need you to understand that.”

“I do understand that,” you answer, heart hammering in your chest, “But, we also can’t live our lives in fear of what could happen. All we can do is take precautions and make informed decisions together. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Rafe. I would never, ever do that on purpose. I love you too much to even consider it.”

He swallows roughly, “I know, sweetheart.”

You want to say more, to spill your guts and tell him every thought you’ve had for the past twenty four hours. Instead, you cuddle deeper into him and inhale his scent, then kiss his cheek. 

“You should sleep, handsome,” you whisper against his skin, “I’m right here, and I’m okay. We’ll work it out in the morning.”

He nods, then presses a kiss into your hair, “I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too,” you reply, “That means you’re stuck with me.”

He chuckles lightly, “Good.”

You smile against him, then kiss his cheek once more before you resign to laying your head on his chest. Both of you are asleep in seconds, surrounded in the warmth and love of the other. 

     When you wake up in the morning, your hands are both tangled in Rafe’s. You feel his smooth palms in yours and you smile before you even open your eyes to find him. When you do, he’s laying across from you, already wide awake. When his eyes meet yours, his lips tip up in a smile. 

"What are you staring at?” you ask teasingly, shifting closer. 

“My wife,” he replies in that morning voice that always seems to get you, “My beautiful, infuriating wife.”

You laugh, even though it shouldn’t be funny. He smiles a real smile then, and you bask in it. Having not seen it in what feels like forever, you want to keep it there for the rest of your life. 

“Rafe,” you whisper. “I—”

“I know,” he stops you, tugging you closer, “I know you’re sorry. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Really?” you ask hopefully. 

“Mhm,” he hums, “Can you just promise that you’ll call me the next time you don’t know what to do? No matter what?”

You nod, “I promise.”

“Thank you,” he says, then takes a breath before saying, “Now, about your brother.”

“I still want him in my life, Rafe. But, I’ll meet up with him and really discuss boundaries and everything. I’ll take the house key from him. I will do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, but I won’t cut him out.”

He nods, “I’m not asking you to cut him out, baby. Not at all. You just need to be more firm with him. You know Scott, you give him an inch, he takes a mile.”

“I know,” you reply, dropping your shoulders at the evident quality your brother possesses, “I’ll work on being more assertive with my boundaries when it comes to him.”

“Good. You deserve to be appreciated and respected. You’re not a doormat for your brother and his issues.”

You know Rafe’s right, but you’re not ready to admit that that might just be what Scott has been doing to you. That he knows you’ll go easy on him, so he comes to you first. You haven’t wanted to see it, so you don’t. 

“So, we’re okay?” you ask, biting your lip. 

He stares at you for a moment, and you notice how his look of admiration has returned. You smile as he begins to nod, then squeeze his hand. 

“We’re okay,” he replies, “Sorry if I scared you last night.”

“You did. Do you think our fight brought it on?” 

He shrugs, “The fight. Josie being in the accident. I’m sure it will go away in the next few nights, as I calm down.”

You nod in understanding, then place a few gentle pecks onto his bare chest. 

“If there’s anything I can do, tell me,” you murmur, “You’re never alone.”

“Thank you, baby.”

As much as you want to stay and bask in his body heat, you know you should get up to check on Connor and take him more medicine. Rafe can feel you tense as you prepare to move, and his grip tightens. 

“Rafe—”

“He’s fine,” Rafe bluffs, “Don’t get up.”

“I have to.”

He laughs gruffly, then releases you. Reluctantly, you climb from the bed in your tank top and short shorts, eliciting a groan from Rafe where he lays. Without being able to contain himself, it seems, he reaches over and swats your backside as you escape from the bed, earning a jaw drop from you. 

“Sorry,” he grins mischievously. 

“Sure you are,” you mutter, “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I really am, sweetheart. I remind myself every day.”

You know he’s being his silly self, but the words bring butterflies to your stomach. You grin and turn back to look at him as you walk toward your bedroom door, taking a mental picture of him laying in bed with his shirt off and his hair messy. He’s practically begging you to come back to him, and for a moment, you strongly consider it. 

“Don’t move,” you command, “I’ll be back in ten.”

He chuckles, “Yes ma’am.”

You hurry from the room and up the stairs, already missing Rafe’s heat and the comfort of your bed with him in it. You’re already making plans for when you return to your bedroom, because although fighting with Rafe is one of the worst things in your entire world, making up is your absolute favorite.

*i no longer have a tag list! follow @mackupdates for updates! thank you for reading <3

[ktchie]

'It's the hope that kills you'

Ted Lasso x Reader

Fluff and Angst

♡ other tags: attempt at humour/ no proof read we die like Rupert should've / possible part two

♡6.1k words

◇ In which Y/n wanted to confessed and Ted has a pastel pink apron.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

She consider herself as a tough independent woman who rather die and be beheaded than show any ounce of feelings or a hint of affection.

Her therapist said it's because she grew up in a household that doesn't show much emotion or any vulnerability. And they're right, she remember the time she saw her Dad shed a tear on the night of her high-school graduation, hiding behind his hands and cool dad stance before abruptly going to the bathroom and staying there for 40 minutes - he came back with red eyes and a terrible pun joke. As if nothing had happened.

So it is perfectly understandable that she grew up hating vulnerability, choosing to stay rigid and emotionless rather to have her whole soul on the palm of her hand. It doest help either that she's the eldest kid, the pillar of her siblings, the one who lays awake at night thinking any and every problems her parents throw at her way, worrying about it to the point her chest hurt and she has to learn to calm panic attack in such a young age.

So that being said, she never really had the full experience of romance or being in a relationship. She flirted with a few men on her lives and had fucked them plenty of times but she never really did the whole holding hands thing and all that cheesy stuff that people always whined about once the clock hits 10 and loneliness hits you like a freight train.

But meeting Ted, meeting Ted makes her want to dive head first on whatever corny things couples do in this day of age. Whether it be kissing on the rain or robbing a bank at 2pm in a Sunday afternoon.

She stared at him from across her, sitting so patiently like an overgrown child with a cup of steaming hot coffee.

"Something you need, Ted?" Her tone of voice held nothing but pure professionalism that made her quietly hissed.

Ted looked at her with his big brown eyes that makes her heart all googoo gaga, she sometimes wonder if Ted is secretly part of some hidden government group because she swore that puppy eyes could stop a international fued.

"Oh you know, just wanna visit ya'" he stated with a cheeryness only he can produced in the morning, all dimple and wide smiles. "'been awhile since I saw you, thought you're actually avoiding me but boss said that you're six feet under with all the work you got goin' on"

She chuckled at his words "Ted, I don't think there's anything in this world that could keep me away from you" she answered with a subtle smile, if she wanted him she would get him, whether it be by words or thousand of prayers.

Ted looked at her silently, wide eye and a blossoming blush on his cheeks. He looks ethereal underneath the early morning sun, a fallen single strand of hair dangling on his forehead that makes her hand itch with yearn to fix it.

"But I have been awfully neglectful to the rest of you, haven't I?" She decided to move on from her flirting (?), she doesnt want Ted to dropped dead on the floor from all the blood on his head. "I've been busy these past few weeks, but Will told me about the team plan get together on Sam's restaurant. I'll make sure to attend it, even shoulder the payment if we can get Sam to give us the bill"

Ted nodded his head, tounge tied for once, some part of her rejoiced while the other part, the one who always fear rejection and if she's being too much or too stupid, fear for whatever friendship they have (or had, if worse comes to worse)

"I-well" he cleared his throat, looking at her through his weirdly long eyelashes that always made her tear up in awe and envy.

"We can uh' y'know, we can split the bill, don't hav'ta shoulder it all by yourself"

"No its alright" she shook her head, she contemplate touching his arms, feel the soft fabric of his awfully comfy looking sweater and the skin underneath it but she decided not to, Ted might freak the fuck out and leave the room yelling 'HR! HR!' And have her fired and be shamed by the rest of the Richmond community for touching their beloved American wanker. "Consider it as my payment for forgetting to visit the locker room"

"Wasn't your fault, anyway" he shrugged before gesturing to the tower of folders and impending blueprints for the upcoming renovations and building upgrades. "I mean take a look at that, the great mt. Everest would cry if he saw this monstrosity. Even looking at it makes my stomach all funky" he shudder at its sight. "Do you even take a break? Jeez."

She sighed and leaned back on her office chair "from time to time, 15 minutes or 5. I like to finish my work early so.."

Ted frowned, he has one of those upset looks that makes her heart clenched and crack little by little until it exploded on her chest and she has to pretend she wasn't in pain so he could view her as a normal human being and not a lovesick teenager. "Ya should take a better care of yourself, you can't just go 'n on 'n on workin' till you drop dead" if it's possible, his doe eyes turned even more sadder. " its not good for you"

She bit her lip, her thighs moving up and down underneath her desk. She never liked it when he's anything but happy. "I can go take a rest when I go home and take a rest some more once I finish of all this work. its fine, don't worry too much about me"

"How can I not worry about you?" Ted leaned in, sad eyes and furrow brows. "Youre my-" he sighed before he shake his head "heck, If I had known you're over 'ere slowly killin' yourself i would have yank you from your desk till you're screamin' and cryin'"

Screaming and crying huh? Oh she can do that, alright.

"Ted.." she sighed, trying her hardest to ease the furrow on his brows "its fine, im fine. Don't worry about me too much. there's another game coming up, thats what you should be focusing on yeah?"

Ted sighed deeply, leaning back on the chair before nodding. A lock of hair fell down on his forehead, perfect it was, and y/n thought he never looked more beautiful then. She wonder if Ted kept his hair perfectly gel all the time or if he had ever let his guard down on the four walls he had been forcely call his home.

She would love to see him just him, just Ted, with his goofy smiles and bad puns and old reference from a bad film made years before.

She would love to love him, flaws and imperfections and bad days. She would paint him beautifully, perfect at every stroke of her brush and no smudge of mistakes and yet she knows she still wouldn't do him justice. Ted is just too perfect, too lovely, too godly to be even be depicted on a rough white canvas of this wretched world. Ted deserves to be painted in the walls of the church, or at every thread of the clouds, he was meant to be seen and to be watched and to be memorize until his kindness and his generosity and smile are engraved deep within everyone's heart. Y/n wanted to worship Ted with utmost devotion that her mouth would utter prayers like a second breath, until her two pressed hands bleed and flowers grow between her palm.

She watched him sat across her, his gaze darting everywhere on the carpet before a smile slowly broke on his lips, eyes suddenly lighting up and whole body perking up.

"Hey" he looked up to her, grin and joyful gaze "guess what I cooked last night" he had said giddily

"if you get it right I might just have to take a peek on that ridiculous sitcom you've always buggin' me to watch"

She scoffed, offended. "Modern family is not ridiculous, it's the best thing that ever happened to television-"

"Now hol' up. You're gettin' ahead of yourself now, sugar" she pretended the pet name didnt make her stomach flip and twist and did all kinds of wwe wrestling stunt. 

"I'll have you know that you're wrong, there are tons of- you know what, I ain't even gonna argue with you because we're both too tired for this and I'm too excited to tell you what I cooked last night, so just guess, come on"

She squinted her eyes before sighing as she started to think. "Well, last time we spoke you wouldn't shut up about barbecue and kebab and that one burger that sounds like it could kill you from one sniff"

"Triple cheese burger with bacon crisp, 3 sunny side eggs and curly fries dipped in ranch and garlic sauce with side on-"

"Sounds awful. Americans and their ridiculous food, seriously how are you not dead yet?"

Ted had shrugged with a sickeningly sweet smile "have no idea, but its good 'n ya know what they say 'enjoy life while it lasted'"

"Curse that qoute for manipulating you, let's just pray you wouldn't drop dead in the middle of the court because we can't handle your decaying body and another lose at the same time"

"You betcha! Now guess what I cooked!" Ted was almost jumping from his seat, propping his head on his palm as he stared at her.

"Come on, now"

"Curry"

"No"

"Friend chicken?"

"Nope, but boy I would love to have that right now"

"Salad?"

"Heck no! You kiddin' me?"

"Uhhh, curry?"

"You already said that!" Ted pouted lightly and she almost reach out to trace the bottom of his lips and mumbled how sweet he look right now but thankfully she stopped herself.

"Allright I give up" she threw her hand up and sigh "anything you cooked is fantastic anyway, doesn't matter what it is"

"Oh, arent you a sweetheart" he smiled at her so adorably it made her tooth ache. "I'm glad you think so because I just cooked f/f!" Ted yelled so excitedly, arms spread wide and eyes bright.

She looked at him with agape mouth

"F/f? Are you serious?" She grinned so widely, it has been awhile since she tasted it, mainly because the only f/f she had ever ate is the one her mother cooks.

"Course! I wouldn't lie to ya!" Ted had stated "I couldn't get some shut eyes last night so I decided to make it, better to do something than nothin' at all am I right?"

She's still looking at him, as if in trance. "Wow Ted..I mean im pretty fucking pump but-well, why did you make it? You could have baked, you usually bake when you have nothing to do"

Ted looked away from her, cheeks suddenly getting warm and pink under the sunlight. "Oh you know..just miss ya' I guess"

Her heart crumbled and melted inside of her chest, she could feel its warmth drip from every nerve she has and settle deep within her guts and lay there until she has to curl her toes in a pathethic attempt to calm herself down.

He took a peek at her under his lashes. "I was so used seeing you every darn morning 'ere so it makes me all sad and upset when I don't. Even coach beard had to knock some sense in to me, told me to keep my marbles together or else he'll hide my barbecue sauce" he lightly chuckled "pretty heavy threat, if you ask me"

"I didnt know you miss me so much"

"Are you kiddin' me? I miss ya a hell'ava lot more than 'much'" Ted had almost yelled "i miss ya more than Roy misses running! And thats alot"

She laugh quietly, both in amusement and the tickling feeling deep on her stomach that normal people (with normal amount of love on their heart) would refer as butterflies, but for her, for someone who love too deep and too vast and too much and for a girl like her that grew up reading stories and fairy tales and movies characters with soft confession under bright stars and harsh rains, she could refer the feeling on her stomach as a clawing beast, a magnificent one born on legends and shaky words of the fear locals, with a ferocious growl and wild eyes and fangs as big as a tallest house.

In short, everytime Ted does something so adorably lovely on her eyes she could feel the entire animals on her stomach.

She looked at him with a gentle smile, eyes bright and so so soft - looking at him a like proper lover would. "I miss you too, Ted" she had said almost like a whisper, like a sin. "More than you could ever know"

The statement sounded too intimate, the tone too romantic to be said between casual friends and even the silence after it could be written in a pages of old romance stories - describe it like moment after the music, where the two of them stares at one another with that yearning look that makes all the reader sick to their stomach.

Her words sounds like a confession, one that is so gentle even the gods up above would melt where they stood. She didn't utter the proper words of 'i love you' and didn't open her palm where her bleeding heart lay and offer it to him with a desperation - but the way she said her words, the way every letter soud so much like a sudden whisper in a night of passion and sudden realization of devotion and adoration makes her statement more than a confession - as if it was an oath, a promise set on stone. Like a knights word as he kneeled on his king and offered the edge of his swords, bare against the world, bright steel and fierce glare as his lips mouth his promise, the words he would live and die on, where war would start and where it would end - be it by his blood or his foes. And similar to that y/n is ready to be let down on where she sat, to spill her heart like a leaking wound and let it stains them both, let him know how she feels, how serious, how much time she had spent pinning after him, yearning, adoring him so silently like a lovesick suitor from afar.

Ted grinned at her, dimple deep on his cheeks and that damn fallen hair on his forehead that makes him so so lovely. He opened his mouth and y/n waited with bathed breath and wonder what words would come out but before he could even roll his tounge the door of her office opened with a harsh loud push.

"Y/n we have to- oh. oh Ted! Good morning!" Higgings strolled in clumsily and no matter how much she love the little dork she kinda want to crush his glasses on her palm and send him home.

"Higgins! Nice to see ya today, buddy" Ted stood up to greet him and to give him a pleasant hug and if the coach is annoyed at anyway, he didn't show it. God he's so kind its annoying..

"You too, Ted. You too" Higgins replied with a smile that reserved only for Ted, filled with gratitude and adoration before he turned to her and she watch, with great amusement and a little irritation, when that smile fell down on his lips. "And uh, we need to talk"

She sighed mournfully, waving a goodbye to the wonderful conversation she was having with her love and to the words he would say earlier. She gestured Higgings to sit across her before she met Ted's eyes.

"Im afraid we'll have to cut our cheesy conversation here, Ted. Duty calls and if you want someone to blame, blame Higgings" she pointed at the man with a teasing smirk that had Higgins poor heart rapidly beating with nervousness.

"What? But I'm merely doing my job-"

"Im fucking with you" she patted his shoulder with a light laugh before glancing at Ted, who still remained at her office with a smile.

"I'll gave you a call later" Ted had said "let's have a dinner, ill cook for ya'"

She bit her lip to keep the ridiculous love sick smile threatening to rip her mouth apart and nodded "ill look forward to it, have a good day"

"You too, sugar"

And he was gone and if Higgins wasn't infront of her, staring at her with that bewildered look only spooked squirrel could do she would have stood up and do a cartwheel on her carpeted floor because holy fucking shit Ted is going to cook for her, just for her, not like those times where they eat together on the locker room and she has to sneakily steal his lunch - tho she knows Ted wouldn't mind Beard is another problem, she still thinks Beard has a few dead bodies on his back, the man has a stare of a despondent convicted murderer inside a prison cell. Its crazy.

"Oh." Higgings blink rapidly, his mouth subtly and slowly forming a smile. "You and Ted?"

She squinted her eyes "We're friends"

"Not with that look in your eyes, no"

"What did you eat today to have you acting this cheeky, my dear Higgins?" She looked at him up and down with a scowl.

The man let out a grin

"I should be the one asking that" he then leaned in "or should it be 'who did you meet today that have you acting this lovesick, my dear y/n?"

She flush red "You're fired"

"That'd be the 205 times you've fire me and I will continue to ignore it as long as I live"

"The first time i did that you sobbed on my shoulder"

"Well its.." he looked away "it was a different time"

"Sure it was"

____________________________________

"Look what we have 'ere-"

"JESUS, ROY!" She had jumped 2 feet from where she stood, clutching her heart and her car keys.

"What the hell man!"

"What? You got yourself an American man and suddenly you're weak of heart?"

"That doesn't even make any sense.." she mumbled with a disturbed look as she stared at him. "What are you even doing here? and I dont have an American man, get your head straight"

"Its a fucking parking lot, im allowed to be here" He commented with a glared as he not so softly leaned on her car.

She sighed through her nose, annoyed. "What i meant was, why the fuck are you even standing about in here and suddenly appearing from the darkness like a...hairy angry batman"

"Im not fucking hairy!"

"you shed like a golden retriever, you're not fooling anybody!"

Roy, the dog, growled in annoyance before he blocked her way to the driver seat.

"Please move or ill yell bloody murder" she stated suddenly so so exhausted.

"Why actin' so rush? Got somewhere to be?" She squinted his eyes at him, suspicious and contemplating why is he being such a dick.

"Why are you talking to me like you're about to take my lunch money?"

Roy, with the little patience he has, growled once again before he shook his head, as if he was the one getting annoyed and tired on the conversation. Then he stared at her, right on the eye, as if wanting to burn her soul and cook her alive.

"Youre really not going to tell me?" He had asked, hands on his hips.

"Is that how it is?"

"What?" She ask, confused.

"You and Ted" Her eyes widen, what is he on about?

"Me and Ted? What about us?"

"Higgin-" he cleared his throat "I mean, someone told me you and the little prick was getting all chummy in your office. Even got yourself a fucking date, how lovely"

She sighed "there wasn't a date Roy, Ted and I are friends. And we aren't getting 'chummy' or whatever kind of meaning that word has in your vocabulary and tell Higgins-"

"It wasn't higgings"

"-tell him to keep his damn nose out of my business or ill key his car"

Roy stared at her for a long second before he clenched his jaw and mumbled a 'fuckkkkk'

"We're-" he swallowed before he looked upwards to the sky, as if begging the gods above to give him more strength. "We're-..f-friends, arent we?" Her eyes soften in both adoration and amusement as he grimaced with every letter he spoke.

She chuckled "we are, no matter how much you disdain that word"

"Then," Roy had sighed "believe me when I say that that cowboy Mr. Rogers is fucking inlove with you"

Suddenly the air felt too thick and her clothes felt too hot. "Roy, i think you're wrong. Ted wanst-"

"Don't you fucking dare tell me he wasn't because a blind bloke could see it in a mile away, he wouldn't fucking shut up about you. fuck sake, He even draws you!" He yelled dramatically, hands shooting in a air in a form of exaggerated irritation that only Roy Kent could do. "Those past few days where you lock yourself up in your bloody office has been the worst days of my entire life, Ted looks constipated half of the fucking time and all he does is broods and broods and fucking complains about you. He's insufferable! Beard has to talk to him in the bathroom to get him straight!" He massage his temple before sighing and looking at her so gently then, so softly, like a brother would, like a friend would do, like someone you can hold onto when life gets though and days gets bad.

"Believe me, he's inlove with you.." he softly said like a whisper.

"In every possible way a human could love, he's inlove with you"

Her breath hitched from her throat, tounge heavy on her mouth and her heart beat could be hear from miles away. The beast inside of her guts fell silent, almost asleep, like his words strike straight to his heart and send him down on the ground, wounded and shaken and could never get back up.

"I came here to.." Roy cut short, finding the proper words. "To tell you how happy I am that he finally work the balls to ask you out, but turns out he's still a fuckin' pussy and a mess of a man"

She chuckled and shook her head.

"Ted is.." She lick her lips and leaned on her car, Roy beside her and shoulder apart.

"I don't think Ted would do the first move, he's..afraid, I think. All his life Michelle was the only woman he knew, only woman he loved and if what you're saying is not true, then she's the only woman he would forever love" she said almost mournfully. "Divorced is hard, specially for someone like Ted who loves too much and give too much, maybe that's the reason why I'm hopeless inlove with him to the point of humiliation but who fucking  cares, right?" She shrugged.

She then swallowed before sighing a shaky breath. "I'll uh, ill confessed tonight. While we eat dinner, ill..ill try, and if- y'know, he doesnt like it then I'll back off" she bit her lip as her gaze burn holes to the pavement.

"I'll love him from afar, cheer for him from the stands and sob on my office if I saw him and sassy together again"

Roy chuckled "i remembered that one" reminiscing her worst times of sobbing half dead on her office table mumbling how cruel it is to love Ted and asking what Sassy has that she does not.

"Maybe ill hire a hit man too, have them kill you so you could forget about it" she bumped his shoulder with her own and lightly laugh when Roy grunts.

"I'll write it with my fucking blood, believe that"

"Write it with your chest hair and ill believe it"

"You fucking cunt-"

____________________________________

"Sorry 'bout the mess.." Ted gestured to the perfectly clean living room with a sheepish look. "didn't have time to clean up. I'm just too excited to cook for ya I forgot about everything else"

"That so? Well I'm excited to taste it, I'm sure it'll be wonderful" she smiled at him as she put the bottle of wine down on the marble kitchen bar.

"Oh it'll blow your socks off, its nothin' like the food at Sam's restaurant but its darn good if I say so myself" She watched silently as Ted, adorable adorable Ted, wore his pastel pink apron, tied it around his waist and fluff it with a lovely smile that almost had her clutching her precious weak heart.

"Im sure it'll be delicious" she say, referring more to the cook rather than food. "I like anything you do anyway, so"

Ted glance at her and smile, all dimple and bright eyes. It made her smile too, softly, subtly, like one of those yearning smile that hides thousands of words and promises and hopes and desperation.

Ted went back to his cooking, whistling a tune she swore she heard before. He was telling a story, one about a fish and a basketball and a prom that gone wrong but for the life of her she could not listen.

She thought about her conversation with Roy, the words he had utter that made her want to pour her heart out and confessed to her love. She dont want to be hopeful, being hopeful is nothing but a wish on the wind in this place. It is the poison that rots your mind, that decays the flower and the trees and the grass, break the ground you stood up upon - watch it crumble and crumble until your legs become weak and your bones break from your flesh and you fell ill and sick and cough blood until you die and wish that you should have done better, that you should have stayed quiet and at peace and settle from staring from afar instead of watching your own skin slowly peel away as you continue to hope and hope and hope and watch as the filthy earth swallow you whole and- Jesus christ she should really stop reading those sad terrifying books Nate had been recommending her alot, its ruining her head in the worst ways.

"Ya feel alright?" Ted's voice woke her from her thoughts.

She looked at him furrowed brows and concerned eyes. "Im good, it's nothing"

"We could just watch a movie, you know? Order some good ol' pizza and have a laugh on some bad movies and oh! You know what? we could just watch your favourite-"

"I rather just taste your food, Ted. If you don't mind"

"But you look tired" and there it is again, the puppy look, the vain of her existence. God he's so terrible she kinda want to kiss his face and pinch his cheeks.

She chuckled "arent you sweet"

"Oh gosh! I didnt- darn, I didnt mean it that way, sugar!" He was panicking, going all over the kitchen with his cute apron on and little sauce smudge on his cheeks.

"You l-look tired but y'know still pretty, and cute and-and you know? Please darlin' I didnt mean to offend you i just want to-"

"Hey, hey, hey.." she called out to him with a barely contained humour smile "I get it, I was fucking with you. I'm just joking, calm down"

He slumped dramatically on the counter with a sigh "oh goodness, you had me there. Thought I was gonna loose ya'"

They had talked a little bit, or maybe too much, she couldn't exactly remember how long it was or what it was about but she had know they had laugh and jest and share a few stories of their childhood and back when they're still a foolish teenager who didn't know what they want and where they belong - she  still don't know now if she was being honest, she wasn't really the kind of person that plans ahead of time, or give a genuine thought on what she wanted to do in the future and how she will get there but Ted is, Ted knows, Ted understand what he wants and how he will get there and what he see himself on the future and in which place and who he was with, it made her fall a little more inlove with him.

"How was it?" He had asked as he leaned in, nervous and fidgeting.

"Oh gosh please say somethin' I'm about to blow a nerve over 'ere"

She laugh "it was good!" And it is, the best curry she probably had.

"Its perfect, Ted. Even the spiciness is perfect"

He blew out an air "oh thank god, I was so worried ya wouldn't like it! And to be completely honest with ya' I thought I switched up the salt and sugar halfway"

She laugh again, it wasn't even funny, she's just inlove and a complete fool.

Ted started to talk about his day, down to what he had ate for breakfast and how terrible his coffee was 'it tasted like cow piss' his words. He then talked about his theory that Nate is secretly a goverment spy forced to work with him for a very dangerous top secret world breaking undercover mission - when she asked why he think that - 'because nate is a genius and there ain't no way he was a water boy before I came here and coach beard told me he saw nate yesterday slap a fly in a speed of light and didn't even flinch'

It was ridiculous theory but she then remember the amount of gory psychological thriller books Nate has been recommending her for the past few days and a good amount of them involves a spy or two. She wasn't convinced but she'll keep an eye out just incase.

"-it wasn't that much of a big deal"

"You set your school on fire!" Ted had exclaimed rather dramatically, on her opinion, as she told him her high-school tales.

"Thats like- Thats arson!"

"Its not arson if they don't know someone set it on fire" she tap her forehead lightly as if gesturing Ted to see how smart she is. And Ted, bless his heart, actually nodded.

"Youre right, thats smart. Look at ya' getting away with crimes in such a young age!" He grins so beautiful she was actually proud of what her foolish younger self did back then.

"You sounds awfully proud of me bring a criminal"

"Well its kinda awesome and speaking of awesome!--" his eyes was bright and there's a little smudge of sauce near his lips, he looks adorable and loveable and she just suddenly want to kiss him stupid and tell him how much she loves him-

"--Sassy and I are going on date this weekend!"

A glass shattered on the background.

She wasn't adventurous or a sucker for pain and near death experince but if someone had ask her what it would feel like when an arm go through her chest and crush her heart in one fist, she would describe what she's feeling right now in exact gruesome detail that even Nate would vomit on the corner.

She couldn't stop her smile for falling from her lips or the soft disbelief of 'oh' that escape from her tounge, its amazing how a simple two letter words sounded so broken out of the millions she had uttered before.

"Thats great, Ted" she thank every God there is that her voice didn't came out robotic "im happy, you deserve someone who can take care of you"

Ted nodded his head with a grin that is far too wide for his cheeks and then he stared talking, he was saying something but she couldn't hear it, didn't bothered to hear it, she was too busy wondering if the feeling of absence on her chest had been there long before or had just recently appeared now.

"-aint it funny?"

"Yeah" was her response even if she didn't hear any word of it, she avoid his gaze as she wiped her mouth with a tissue and cleared her throat - there's a vile stuck on it that she couldn't seems to swallow.

"Ted, I-uh, I think I'm gonna go home. I'm not feeling very well" she was a liar and a coward but she rather die than cry infront of him -  and suddenly she was young again, alone in her room, toes cold from the floor board and clenching her hands into a tight fist and wondering what is it about her that is unlovable.

"Oh, uh, okay" Ted stood up from the table "are you feelin' dizzy? Does your tummy feels funny? Do you wan-"

"I don't" she said firmly, she was upset, mad, not to him but to herself, for even hoping that she could have this. "I don't need anything, thank you" she lied and swallowed the humiliation of even wanting to say everything she wanted to say to him. All those words she wanted to confessed makes her sick to her stomach because how fucking dare she believe she even has a chance? How foolish to even assume she could have Ted?

"Nothing like a good rest would fix" she had stated, hoping to ease his mind but her chuckle came out weak and sad.

"Okay uh, ill walk you to your apartment - I mean, flat, christ-"

"Its okay" she grab her bag "I can walk by myself"

"I don't think its safe-"

"I can handle myself"

"Still, you look a little pale and I can't have a gal like yo-"

"Fucking hell Ted!" She had yelled and the guilt settled on her stomach as soon as she did so.

Ted look at her like she wasn't her, like another person came on his flat with a face of a friend he adores and she wanted to laugh because how could she want to love him and care for him when she could barely be half of a kind person that he was?

"Just- fuck, I got it. I can handle myself just dont-" she sighed through her nose and looked down, she could feel the tears on her eyes and but none of them fell down.

"Just let me be, yeah? I'm not a fucking toddler you need to be coddle all the time"

There's a pause before Ted nods "Okay" his eyes were sad, sadder than anything she had ever saw and it would've break her heart if it weren't shattered before.

She looked at him silently, a second. She almost wanted to say it, say the words, just lay it all on the table and let Ted feast on the remnants of her broken heart and whatever is left. He'll take good care of it, she knows. That's a kind of man he is. Maybe even fix it together with some melted gold.

"Im sorry" Ted was the one who apologized even if she should be the first, it made her guts coil. "I didnt mean to upset you, I was just-just worried. I'm sorry"

She looked down and clenched her fist, dig her nails on her palm.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, I was being a dick and I have no excuse-"

"Youre tired and you're not feeling well, 's okay"

"Its not, Ted" she shook her head "I shouldn't have talk to you like that, you're my-" she swallowed "youre my friend, I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry"

Ted smile, sad and worried all at once. "Its okay, I forgive ya'"

He shouldn't be, atleast not this easily.

"Okay" she nod her head once before she turn to the door with trembling hands.

Ted appeared next to her and held the door open for her. "Be safe, sweetheart"

'Don't' she wanted to whisper but felt too tired to do so.

"Call me when you get home"

"Will do"

The ground was wet as she walked and the road felt much sadder than before, the cold night air beg her for warmth and instead of the heat of her flat her mind travel to the warmth of his hands, of his touch. Y/n briefly wonder how she came to be like this, how she love so fiercely like a beaten dog and dig claw marks on everything she ever love just to watch it be yank away from her as easily as her tears could fall.

[doumadono]

Emergency request:

Hey I hope it's okay if I request some comfort with Hawks. I've had struggled for a long time now never really telling anyone even though I have had times where I got anxiety/panic attacks almost daily. Mostly because of some family issues and having to had been safe place and supporter for both my younger siblings and a mother. (there has happened a lot but I won't go to any specific details) It was both freeing and terrifying to have moved on my own since I felt like I had in a way less responsibility havig to just look after myself and do what I want. But I also felt anxious of not really knowing what's going at home and feeling like I wasn't really needed anymore. Not really getting many calls to ask how I was doing or if I do it quickly becomes a 'rant' of what's going on in their life, even though it's much better now than few years back.

I'm finally getting help and send a text to my school psychologist because I have been pretty exhausted about everything building up and not really attending to school either. But I'm proud for finally going to talk there and hopefully getting some more help. I'm just anxious of how no one really knows how much I have been struggling and thinks I'm doing well and I don't know how I'm going to face them telling them if I can't continue school at this moment.. Meaning I would have to break the illusion of how I really am.. I'm just used to keeping it inside but I'm trying to break out of that.. but it's scary xd

I'm sorry for the long explanation I don't mean to vent I'm bad at summarizing stuff. There's absolutely no pressure to write this and I wish you have an amazing day! I wanto say I really love your blog and all your amazing writings!❤️

A/N: I apologize for posting this after the 48-hour emergency request window; I've been quite busy recently. I want you to know that reaching out for help is a brave and significant step. You don't have to carry this burden alone, and it's okay to break the illusion. Your well-being matters, and I'm proud of you for taking care of yourself. It may be scary, but you're on the path to healing, and there's strength in vulnerability! Keep moving forward, and things will get better ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Hawks had always been known for his swiftness, both in the skies and in his hero duties. But today, as he received your message and read through the turmoil you'd been enduring, he realized that some things couldn't be rushed. He knew that your struggles had been hidden beneath a brave facade for far too long. As he flew toward your place, he used a few of his feathers to discreetly check in on you. They slipped through the slightly ajar window, silently sensing your distress and heavy sighs.

You sat alone, enveloped in the suffocating embrace of your inner demons; your apartment dimly lit, and your heart heavy with the weight of your struggles. The room was filled with a haunting silence, only broken by the occasional distant sirens of the city.

When he finally landed on your balcony, and knocked gently, you were startled, not expecting him to actualy show up. Opening the balcony door, his wings cast a shadow over you. His usually confident demeanor was replaced with an air of solemnity.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, both surprised and touched by his presence.

He gave you a soft, sympathetic smile and stepped inside. "I read your message, and I couldn't just ignore it. You really thought I won't check upon you, songbird? Can I come in?"

Nodding, you led him to your living room, where you both settled on the couch. The weight of your troubles hung heavy in the air, and Hawks knew he needed to tread carefully. "I know this might be difficult," Hawks began gently, "but you don't have to carry this alone anymore. You can talk to me, whatever it might be about."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally allowed yourself to speak, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. You shared your anxiety, panic attacks, and the overwhelming sense of responsibility for your family's well-being.

Hawks listened intently, his red wings folding around you protectively as you poured out your heart. "You don't have to hide your pain. It's okay to be vulnerable."

"But what if they see me differently now since I moved out?" you whispered, fear lacing your voice. "What if they think I don't care about them anymore? What if they'll consider me weak if I tell them about my school?"

Hawks leaned closer, his feather-light touch soothing. "Strength isn't about never feeling weak. It's about facing your vulnerabilities and seeking support when you need it, even if you're a pro hero. And believe me, there's nothing weak about that. About the situation with your family - I'm sure they'll finally accept your decision about moving out. Give them time and with small gestures show them that you still care."

As you continued to talk, Hawks offered reassuring words, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions. He spoke of his own struggles, sharing stories of the pressure and loneliness that came with being a hero. Hawks gently brushed his feathers against your cheek, a gesture filled with tenderness. "You're not alone in this, okay? I'll be here for you whenever you need me, and I'll support you through the tough times."

Tears streamed down your face as you gazed at him, grateful for his understanding. "Thank you, Keigo. I don't know what I would've done without you today."

He smiled softly, his golden eyes reflecting genuine care. "Anytime, kid. Remember, you've got wings of your own, and you can soar through anything."

[mushroommanstan]

Hi I really like your 'creepy' Tenko series. He's not creepy though at least not to me. He's not even really scary either. To outsiders he's definitely creepy. But to the reader he's just a guy who is touch starved lonely and someone who had a really bad childhood. From what I can tell if he's not even that bad of a person he just doesn't know how to socialize...

I love him so much I want to give him a hug!

Like him killing his family wasn't even his fault.

Imagine if you give a 5-year-old the ability to destroy anything that he touched including people without telling him and without giving him control over it.

That would not be the child's fault!

I want to give this guy a hug and affection! I want to be his friend. I'm acesexual so I don't really want to have sex with him like how the main character in your story does.... But I'm not sex proposed so I still like the story and I still want to give him love and affection! Like the poor man doesn't know how friends work....

You better give them a happy ending or I will find you and put glitter in your bed.

I don’t want to spoil it but I don’t think I’m physically able to make an ending for that series that isn’t fluff, no worries. Or maybe I’m lying, you don’t know! (I’m not)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone else’s college AU Tenko: Incel asshole who mistreats women and bullies people because his dads super rich

Mine: just a funny little guy with social problems and low self esteem

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyways, here’s a fic where you hug him and make him feel good platonically. Why? Because I said so. Merry April Christmas

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hugging Tenko college au

Another day walking down the same grimy halls with the same grimy peers, all staring at him like he was a wild animal that stumbled into the building by mistake.

Another day of relentless bullying, spitballs and gum in hair like they were back in high school. Honestly, it was ironic. One would think that you would try and stay on the good side of a “serial killer”, right? And yet it seems like people try to target themselves by sticking their disgusting gum in his hair from behind. This is just one more reason why he has to stay in the back.

Could be worse though, at least he has the disintegration quirk. So really the gum is just a mild annoyance. But it’s the principle of it, the intention that makes his heart clench until he’s too numb feel it.

But today, it wasn’t just intentions that hurt. It seems like the bullies got a little more creative, going so far as to bring paintball guns and shooting him from all over. It stung, and it stained, which stung even more.

Even now he was pelted from behind, sharp snaps against his back again and again that made his eyes water. He scrunched his hair in his hands, his head down as he stopped in the middle of the hallway, enemy fire coming from all sides and pelting his back as he succumbed to a panic attack. He silently cried out for someone, anyone to help him. He hated this, he hated today, he hated himse-

Suddenly, he was overcome with warmth. Like a cozy campfire was wrapped around him, relaxing his bruised body and filling him with a forgotten comfort.

He looked down, seeing skin and cloth wrapped around his torso, and realized that you were hugging him. Cautiously, he wrapped his arms around your back as well, subconsciously melting into your embrace. He didn’t even know you, he didn’t even know why you were doing this… and yet… he felt safe. And secure, and… loved. It had been so long since he had had a hug he-he didn’t realize how much he needed one until now.

He let out a sigh, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck as he allowed himself to let his guard down. It just felt so good, the contact, the trust, the affection. He didn’t need to know you for this to be special to him.

In his peripheral vision, he could see a glowing blue mass behind him, seemingly made of some kind of pseudo-metal based on the sound it made when it deflected the paint balls, sending them back to their senders and making them cry out. Was it… a shield? Did you have a shield quirk or something? Were you… shielding him?

Why him? Why were you being so nice? Just what did you think you were doing? He opened his mouth, trying to squeeze out the words but finding it difficult for some reason.

“Why?” He mumbled. “Why me…? Why would you…”

You shushed him, softly, a sound that was usually made in a disgusted or abrasive manner but coming from you somehow felt comforting. Like you were saying that it was ok, that he didn’t have to worry about that. That he just needed to relax, and feel.

He could feel his eyes watering, and he couldn’t hold back the tear that fell any longer.

“Thank you… ‘really needed this.” He said, wiping his face on your jacket with his hands still wrapped secure around your back.

You chuckled, a nice, warm chuckle, before raising a hand and petting his hair, a motion that made his legs shake from relaxation.

Finally, you spoke. “Y’know, I got the new Super Hero Bros game.”

His face rose from your chest, red and moist from tears. “T-the exclusive one with the new EraserHead playable character?” He asked.

You nodded. “Wanna come back to my place and play it with me? I can order pizza.”

Tenko couldn’t trust himself to speak, only being able to nod before you took his hand and guided him back to your dorm for the gaming night he had waited his whole life for. To say he had fun was an understatement. He had the time of his life.

After that, you two hung out every Friday night, and on those nights, Tenko didn’t feel so alone.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Survivor's Blood (Leon x Reader) - Chapter 6

Survivor's Blood

Pairing: Leon x Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 (you are here!)

Summary: After Raccoon City, Leon became the only Government agent with that kind of expertise. With relentless training, he was now a Special Agent - again, on his first day in the job. He just didn’t expect to live Raccoon City all over again… Maybe Leon was fated to always have the worst first-days-at-work ever.

Age Restriction: 18+. It’s horror, so expect a lot of graphic violence and blood dripping from this. I mean, VERY GRAPHICAL VIOLENCE. Nothing we haven’t seen on RE, but still. Yee been warned

TRIGGER WARNING: Leon has a slight panic attack on this one, right at the end. Proceed with caution.

Author's Notes: Wow. I just looked at the last post, Chapter 5, I posted LITERALLY one year ago, on June 26. I swear I didn't plan this, life's crazy! Craziness aside, this time we have a slight smaller chapter because I wanted to end it with Leon having a small panic attack from his PTSD the poor guy. I recently watched REC, the Spanish found footage horror movie, and OH GODS, it's AMAZING. LOVED it. Took a little to find the one with original Spanish audio, but totally worth it - if there ever was a Resident Evil movie following the games, it had to be like REC; hence why I came back to writing if after such a long time. Also, I'm now watching the RE4 Remake as a movie - I'm a little sad I don't know any streamers I like in English who have played the game, so I'm watching with no commentary, as I did with RE4 looooong ago 'cause I was too scared of chainsaw man. Maybe I'll get to finish this story soon!

Chapter 6

Hospital Arklay Hill, April 29th, 2001 – 22h13

Leon stared at his watch – glancing at the clock on the wall, you understood why his eyes seemed so restless: on his schedule, you had to be at the school in less than ten minutes.

And that would never happen.

“Is it ok if we run a little late?” You quietly asked him, avoiding the ears of the other survivors. Neither of you wanted them to get desperate.

“Yeah, I planned it with a few minutes for us to breathe in case something went wrong.” Even so, his sigh showed Leon wasn’t too happy with that.

You almost smiled. Such a perfectionist. You could easily see how high his standards were for himself – and how much he wanted to achieve them.

“Well, I’m counting Lickers as something going wrong.” Your answer made him huff a quick smile. “Seriously, those things are awful. What was Umbrella thinking…?”

“They weren’t thinking. Period.” Leon’s words were dry and filled with a bitterness that made you stare back at him. As he checked the shotgun’s ammo for the last time, there was something sharp in his eyes – only Leon knew how everything that happened in Raccoon City affected his life. “Ready to go, partner?”

“Oh, yeah, choco chip.” You had a not so happy smile on your lips as your words dripped sarcasm. Leon couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.

“C’mon, we’re getting out of this. You’ll never have to think about it again.”

You sincerely hoped his words to be true.

*

“When we open this door, no one comes out. I’m gonna check the corridor and when I tell y/n it’s all ok, you can get out. Understood?”

All survivors agreed with their heads – even if you didn’t agree much on Leon going out on his own, seeing you basically saved his life, killing a Licker point blank.

You would do it again if you had to.

Leon silently opened the door, leaving the shotgun hanging on his back. You had no idea why he didn’t have it ready on his hands, but you weren’t a trained agent like him. He didn’t fully close the door so it wouldn’t click and you held it on place – your head almost glued to the wood, trying to hear any kind of noise going on the other side.

“What if he dies out there…?” Valerie’s whisper was almost as silent as a needle dropping on the floor – but those words were as deadly as a nuclear bomb.

Up until that moment, you hadn’t stopped to think about that – and, to be fair, you hadn’t had the chance to think. Everything was chaos and the only thing you were supposed to do was keep going, keep moving to survive that hellish night. But Valerie’s words had reason: what would you all do if Leon, the only one trained and seasoned enough to get through it, died right then and there? What would you do if a Licker shredded him to pieces and decided to wait for you all to come out so you would have the same fate?

If Leon didn’t survive, you probably wouldn’t survive – it was simple as that. But something else hurt in that thought… Yes, you had just met him, but not having him around seemed… Empty. Unfair.

He couldn’t die. Leon wouldn’t die. You would make sure of that – after all, you had fearlessly killed a Licker in the heat of the moment to make sure Leon would keep walking by your side. And you would get out of that damned city together, that was the only certainty you allowed in your heart.

Not wanting to make any noise, you held Valerie’s hand, lightly reassuring the woman everything was going to be alright. She turned her eyes to you, taking a deep breath upon seeing you so calm and sure – still trying to hear whatever was going on outside.

In that situation, though, a few seconds dragged themselves like a whole eternity. You were probably holding your breath, you weren’t really paying attention to that at the moment, when you heard a light scratching on the door.

“Clear.” Leon’s voice was but a murmur, one only you could hear, but it was enough.

You signaled the other survivors to leave the room: the man in the lab coat went first, followed by a father and his teenage son, an elderly woman and finally Valerie. You kept your gun ready in your hands, leaving the room with the door open – if one of those creatures tried to follow from the depths of the corridor, the door could perhaps distract it.

Leon signaled you to take the lead, keeping the shotgun locked and loaded as the scared group followed you towards the door – wincing as soon as they saw the Licker, covering their mouths so they wouldn’t scream in horror. Valerie aided the elderly woman while the lab coat man only rolled his eyes. The father, helped his son walk straight, as the boy was wearing hospital clothes. Leon watched everything carefully at the back of the group – also making sure he was listening carefully.

He had seen survivor’s groups like those – he had talked to Jill and Carlos about their many missions, he had conversations with Chris about his S.T.A.R.S assignments, and he had heard a story or two from Claire. Lab coat man obviously thought everyone was a hinderance, so Leon would keep a sharp eye on him as well: those kinds of people wouldn’t flinch at the chance of sacrificing someone else to save their own skin.

And even if Leon despised those types, he would save that guys’ ass because of his own set of moral values – not because the guy was actually worth something.

As soon as you reached the dead Licker on the floor, you raised your right hand so the group came to a halt – making Leon smirk in the process. You were proving to be quite a surprise and, if he was going to be honest, a very welcome one.

Quietly kicking the Licker aside, you forced the door open one more time – using your stealthier skills as to not make any noise at it. Holding the gun with one hand, you looked back at Leon and, as he nodded, you nodded back, pushing the rest of the door and holding it open with one of your feet, immediately pointing the gun at the corridor you had first seen that horrid creature.

You quickly pointed at one side, then at the other – checking it twice just to make sure. It was empty, quiet, like a forgotten tomb reeking of blood and decay. You furrowed your brows as something immediately came to your mind: what if there were other survivor’s hidden at the hospital who weren’t as lucky as those with you to have an old radio and ask for help? They would be left there to die – and you were right there.

You didn’t have time to search the place with Leon, though. Even if you wanted to, your heart desperately screaming you should delve in deeper and help those who couldn’t help themselves, you couldn’t. You had to save those you were able to save. You had to turn around and never look back.

Shaking your head quickly, you held the door open so the group could continue forward. Leon noticed something was wrong – as you stared at a bloodstain on the floor with an empty yet uncomfortable expression. He had to tap you on the shoulder so you would snap out of it, looking back into his grayish sea eyes, and finding them with a question inside.

You could almost hear him saying ‘are you ok?’ – which seemed to be something you would ask each other infinitely that night.

You nodded back, quietly closing the door and taking the lead once again. You made sure to guide the group through the safest patches of floor – those that weren’t slippery with blood or that weren’t filled with broken things that when stepped on could make a horrible noise. Keeping that pace, you would reach the door in no time.

As the group kept going, Leon’s steps got slower. Something crept from the bowels of the Hospital to cling into his heart; something wasn’t right. He kept walking slowly, trying to figure out that feeling at the base of his stomach – but you were almost there. By crossing the sterile white doors, you would get to the waiting room, then the main hall, and then out.

Leon halted completely when he heard something. Looking back at you and the survivor’s group, it seemed like he was the only one who had heard it. Leon immediately turned his head to the other end of the corridor – covered in complete darkness, looking like an endless descent into hell itself.

The noise came with a gentle gust of cold wind, sounding like a faint breath from something inhuman. As if the Hospital itself was breathing – slowly, ominously… Hungrily. Leon could swear he heard very distant groans and things being knocked out of their place, echoing through the halls and corridors, to almost fail at reaching his ears.

But if there was something he learned at the RPD that fateful night, that would be listening. He survived through carefully hearing and identifying how to choose a slightly safer path that night.

As you reached the white double door, you looked back to check on Leon – only to find him standing at a certain distance from the group, gripping the shotgun with both hands in front of his body, looking back inside the Hospital.

You almost let out an audible sigh. There was no way you could know what he was thinking without speaking to him, but watching Leon looking back made your heart stir with a violent desire of going even deeper into that hell to search for other survivors. There was no way a place as big as that would have only five people alive – and you couldn’t even imagine how harrowing it would be to survive only to be left to die in there, unable to save yourself.

“Leon…?” You risked a murmur, barely noticing how the other survivors watched you both with expectation – and uneasiness. “Leon…!”

As you slightly raised your voice, Leon seemed to snap out of it and look back at you. The worry in his grayish sea eyes was different than the one that resided in yours – making him wonder even more what in the hell was haunting you since you got out from that room. You signaled the double door with your head and he agreed, quickly – but quietly – regrouping.

That alleviated a little bit of the tension on the group – and, as you carefully opened the white door, they had no fear because Leon was on the back giving you cover. Just like before, you stepped in the waiting room first, checking every corner with your gun before holding the door open for the other survivors to come through.

The father told his son not to look at the dead bodies you and Leon had shot before. Valerie did her best to help the elderly woman to cross the path without falling. Lab coat man kept rolling his eyes and fidgeting, almost pushing the father and the son out of his way to reach the exit first – being blocked by you as soon as you reached the milky glass door.

“C’mon. Let’s get out of this fucking place already.”

“You wanna go first and risk being eaten by one of those things? Be my guest.” You waved at the door, staring at him without a single drop of patience left in your body. Leon had already been rude with the man before, so you took the chance to do that too. No one would tell you off if you did so – in a matter of fact, you were probably saying what everyone wanted to say. “Things aren’t much better out there than in here, you know.”

The man looked like he had just eaten a full slice of lemon and was tasting the consequences. If you weren’t in that situation, Leon would’ve probably laughed.

As the milky glass door jammed once more, you looked back at Leon only to see him nodding: you could go to the other room, he would cover you and protect the survivors. Pointing the gun in the air once more, you squeezed through, ready to shoot anything that might have come in during your stay in the Hospital.

And once more, Leon looked back – to the double white doors you had just left behind. Did he hear a… Stomp?

His heart trembled inside his chest. Suddenly, it seemed like the entire Hospital didn’t have enough air for him to breathe. Leon furrowed his brows as his heartbeat got faster. It couldn’t be. That Tyrant, at least that’s what he was told that thing was called, couldn’t be back. He had killed it, blown it into oblivion with a missile launcher – Leon watched as the only thing that was left from that Tyrant were its legs; tearing it in half being the only way to make it stop following Leon around.

For years after he left Raccoon Leon kept dreaming about that. Constant nightmares with that Tyrant following him, sucker punching him every time they met and Leon wasn’t quick enough to run away. It felt like his whole body was broken, but he couldn’t stop running, could he? Even if his bones turned into mush, Leon had to keep running – or he would have never left Raccoon City.

Even now, there were some nights Leon woke up with the sound of those steps viciously approaching him in his nightmares – only to have him open his eyes on his bed, sweating like a pig, barely being able to breathe. He could’ve escaped and killed the creature, but he couldn’t escape meeting it in his dreams when his mind was particularly unstable.

And he could swear he was hearing those stomps, right there in that Hospital, echoing like a ghost coming back from his past to haunt him in the present.

“Leon…?” It was Valerie’s voice that tired to pull him out this time. She carefully tried to touch one of his arms, knowing very well it wasn’t the smartest of choices, given the fact he was holding a gun. But Leon closed his eyes, trying to take deep breaths – Valerie was used to seeing panic attacks and that was the beginning of one. And her rescuer having a panic attack was definitely not a good thing. “Leon. You need to come back.” Her voice was almost inaudible, but she was close enough for him to listen. Placing her whole palm on his arm, she started to gently rub his skin, trying to anchor him back into the present. “Listen to me. It’s ok. We need you here, Leon. Please.”

Those words made him open his eyes again, looking back into Valerie’s eyes. The woman had nothing but reassurance, even in that godforsaken situation – clearly a seasoned nurse who was used to taking care of people… And people like him.

Leon took another deep breath, watching her smile in the process, finally noticing her touch on his arm. With another breath, his heart started beating a little calmer and it seemed like the stomping had stopped. Leon looked back at the white doors again, but nothing could be heard. He closed his eyes once more, taking another breath, and looking back at Valerie right after.

“Thank you. We need to go now.” With those words, he nodded at the jammed door – Leon and Valerie were the only ones left, with you helping the elderly lady squeeze through without getting hurt. Valerie smiled back, immediately going to the door to help you and cross to the other side.

Leon risked one last look to the double door, only to hear nothing. Whatever it was, it would be shut in the bowels of that Hospital forever – and he couldn’t be happier with that.

**

To be continued...

[fandomfluffandfuck]

okay, so I know this isn't really your normal ask/request, but I've had this is my brain for so long, and you are such a fantastic writer, I'd like to present it to you anyway:

stevebucky time travel!!

specifically, steve and bucky after the events of the winter soldier (with bucky in any recovery stage) getting somehow transported to brooklyn in the 1930s and meeting the pre-serum, pre-war steve and bucky.

the reaction to the metal arm? steve getting juiced up? the jealousy and admiration pre-serum steve has for post-serum steve? how baby!stucky deal with their counterparts and lovers. how gentle normally-a-firecracker pre-serum steve is with winter soldier bucky and how thirsty but loving pre-serum bucky is with touch-starved, desperate, lost big steve.

feel absolutely free to imagine any kind of beautiful, deliciously hot scenarios as well, that's definitely your usual jam, and I most definitely enjoy it. I just thought I'd add the heartbreaking parts as well.

This is from the requests I got before I closed my writing requests for the school year, I'm no longer taking requests

You're right that this isn't my "normal" request, but I still love it! I do enjoy writing angst and fluff along with smut <3 So, I'm gonna take this prompt as an excuse to go with the things I don't write as much! Meaning, surprisingly, there's no ✨️spice✨️ in this drabble, lol, just pain

Get ready... </3

The immediate thought I had with this prompt was actually about post-serum Steve rather than recovering Bucky...

When modern Steve and modern Bucky find themselves back before the war--when the days seemed longer and hotter than any of the days after, they share a silent exchange, their eyes boring into each other in the middle of the cracked sidewalk, swapping emotions. Nostalgia. Good and bad nostalgia. Then, as they're ducking into a back alley, quick to jump from sight before they're spotted, tall and large and certainly not dressed for the time, Steve reaches for Bucky's hand.

Their fingertips brush.

And, instantly, they both jolt.

Now clothed in shadows, their eyes meet once more. Steve's eyes flick sharply down to their entangled fingers. Flesh and metal.

It hardly takes a moment for the ingrained memory to take over and their flirting fingertips part ways.

They can't risk touching in public, not when they already are liable to contract attention. They don't need to be arrested in the past. But the shake-up runs deeper than that, too.

Bucky has just gotten to the point where he feels comfortable enough venturing into public without a glove. Long sleeves are typically still a must, but not always gloves.

Steve finds his jaw clenching, not because he's upset with Bucky for not having a glove on him to better hide them. No, of course, not. But because...

What else are they going to do--stranded in the past with no way home until the timeline hiccup decides to resolve itself--but find their past selves? And when they find their younger counterparts, there will be no way to explain a completely different arm in any way that isn't devastating.

Guaranteed, it will petrify younger, past Bucky, and it will make younger, past Steve ache for his lover and fill with fire in pure, justified rage against a Nazi organization that (probably) doesn't even exist yet. Plus, it could trigger modern Bucky. Explaining it himself... maybe even hearing it from modern Steve... it won't do Bucky good. This isn't a good time or place for Bucky to have a panic attack or worse.

Blinking, Steve realizes that they're just staring at each other. Silently hovering around each other, wanting physical comfort, the luxury they've been spoiled with in the 21st century, but being unable to take it.

"It'll be okay," Steve hardens his voice and squares his shoulders, "we just have to--" that's it! His shoulders! He has a jacket on. One of his tan leather jackets. Quickly, he shrugs it off and hands it over to Bucky.

Bucky slips into it, jamming his shaking hands into the pockets. He exhales shakily.

Risking a friendly, pal-ish pat on the shoulder that melts into a more intimate back rub, Steve hopes to a God he doesn't believe much in anymore that this doesn't set Bucky back when they get to the future. He just started to be comfortable with his metal arm! Apparently, being back in the time and place where he was swamped by religion puts the religion back in the forefront of his mind.

"We have to find us," Steve finishes his earlier thought.

Bucky nods tightly.

Steve can tell by the way he looks at the floor he's desperately wishing he has wearing a baseball cap when they were transported back, too. More to hide under. No matter if it would be out of place here.

"Okay, okay," Steve races through his thoughts, "where would, where would we be on a Thursday afternoon in, whatever, whatever year it is now..."

Bucky's eyebrows draw together, "home?"

Steve considers it, tipping his head side to side, "maybe, yeah. I--shit. Do you think we're back far enough that we were still living with our, our parents?"

Shit.

For two reasons.

1) If they're each still in their family homes, it means even more people to explain the situation to.

2) If they're in their family homes... it means Sarah Rogers is still alive. And Steve, Steve doesn't know--

Just thinking about it--

Steve feels his lips quiver, a stone dropping onto the back of his tongue so heavily that it triggers the edge of his gag reflex. Thick, wet salt coming up the back of his throat, pooling in his mouth, a warning that he might vomit.

Steve doesn't know if he will be able to handle that.

He's thought a thousand, million different times about what he would say, what he would do if he could see his Ma again. He's dreamed about it. He's cried about it. He's screamed about it to that God that didn't ever seem to hear him. The unfairness.

If--

If it comes to that, being able to calm Bucky, being able to help Bucky through a triggering situation, will be the exact opposite of Steve's worry. It will be Bucky desperately working to hold him together instead.

Fuck.

Thankfully(?), regretfully(?) that doesn't turn out to be the situation.

The situation of past, younger Steve and Bucky is their cold water walk up. Their first (and only) apartment together before the war. It's in that sweet spot (if you ignore the glaring, awful hardships of the Depression) after Steve had steadied himself, floating above the grief over his Ma and before the war started, before Bucky's draft number was drawn.

Okay.

Okay.

Steve can deal with this.

It's gonna hurt. It's gonna tear him apart, and he'll be licking his wounds for weeks (at least) when they return to the future... to the present? But at least it's not--

Not that.

Steve and Bucky slip up the worn, bowed stairs to their apartment, decide against knocking discreetly, and instead jimmy the handle just right to let themselves inside. They are spared no mercy as immediately, they come face to face with their younger selves.

It feels like--

Like an out of body experience in a fun house. Pure insanity. The mirror image of themselves is warped and changed and standing toe-to-toe with them. Too close. Familiar but separate. They are the same, and they are opposites. The beginning and somewhere near the end, except, wait--the younger versions of themselves are young adults, and the older versions of themselves, themselves, are just adults. So... perhaps not a beginning and an end but middles. Middles staring at each other.

Nebulous and totally discombobulating.

No one makes a sound.

Then--

"What the fuck."

The sound of Steve's own voice echoes back through his ears with his mouth having moved at all. It's jarring. Bewildering because he spoke, but he didn't speak. But it's also bewildering as hell because... holy shit it's weird to hear such a little guy possess such a deep voice. He's never known himself from this angle. He's never--

"Of course it'd be you," Bucky turns to him, his lips curling at one corner.

It's on the tip of his tongue to murmur, "you remember?" But he... he can't. Not in front of them. He needn't reveal memory issues when they don't even know--

Fuck.

Why didn't they just loiter in that alley for a few hours? Waiting for the timeline to snap back.

Why did they come here?

He doesn't want--

He's looking at his younger self and he knows he'd hate him for wanting to protect him; he's looking at the younger version of Bucky with puppy fat clinging to his face and chin and belly and he looks so fucking sweet and soft and Steve feels poised to bend him out of shape in the same violent way you ruin a smooth lump of fresh clay by punching it with your fist.

Fuck. Hot pressure builds behind Steve's eyes. He is poised for destruction. And there is nothing he can do about it. So...

Steve clears his throat.

Where does he begin?

Where does he end?

The whole time that he explains, painting with the broadest brush and the most diluted paint possible, Steve is preparing himself for their younger versions to deservingly fuss over his Bucky. So, when his younger, much, much smaller self steps forward, uncrosses his arms over his thin chest, and extends a hand to his forearm, feathering his fingers against the bunched muscle and whispers, a raw edge to his voice, "why don't you come sit down then, you look exhausted," it hurts.

It hits Steve so hard.

Steve is talking to him. He's not talking to Bucky and him. He's talking to Steve alone. Staring him right in the eyes. Knowing.

He was--

He was waiting for rage from himself. He was waiting for terror and grief and numbness from the past Bucky. He was waiting for pretend-detached, monotone, vague answers from his Bucky who came from the future (the present?) with him.

He wasn't--

He was not expecting his younger self to see through it all as if he's transparent and prod one of his boney fingers right into the hole inside him. He was never scared to go up against anyone, though, no matter if they're twice his size or bigger. So, maybe he shouldn't be surprised. It doesn't mean it doesn't make his legs feel more sturdy, though.

Steve doesn't recognize until he sits down on their worn, mostly springs and flattened, shitty cushioning couch with a metallic squeak that neither of the Buckys followed them. It's just the two of them. Him. Steve and Steve. Younger and smaller and older and bigger. What an odd pair.

Peering over his shoulder, Steve sees them in the kitchen, looking at each other. The younger, shorter Bucky is stuck in place, and his Bucky is reaching forward, lifting his hand. His metal hand. He's offering. He's unhesitatant and steady as he slips out of his leather jacket and rolls up the fabric of his long sleeve so the younger Bucky can see. A swirl of pride curls through Steve, warm and budding--a spring flower.

A throat clears.

Steve.

Steve swings his head back to face... himself.

God.

It's still weird.

It's nothing like walking into a room that smells bad and relaxing into it, going blind to the stench after you acclimate. It's still fucking strange. Shivers crawl up his spine, leaving his hair with no choice but to stand on end. Hyper-aware.

His younger self hasn't had a seat on the broken, thread-bear armchair or on the practically decaying couch beside him. Instead, he steps closer and closer, one surprisingly large foot in front of the other over loose, rickety floorboards. He looms into his space, presence much larger than seems possible for his small, sickly frame.

"How are you?" He asks, bushy eyebrows drawn together.

The look on Steve's face must convey his thoughts, shouldn't I be asking you that?

"Don't you know?" Younger Steve answers his mute inquiry, "you were--" he frowns "--you were a version of me."

Steve nods emptily, "I guess."

The pale sounds of the Buckys conversing in the kitchen fills the space between them like static until... younger Steve floats his hand into the gap, the empty space, reaching and reaching toward him, giving him plenty of time to flinch, anticipating that Steve will scowl and move out of the way, still allergic to being babied. But Steve doesn't move.

It is impossible to twitch, to move, to dodge. His muscles have turned to stone--at any other time, it would be funny; he recalls Bucky's shock the first time he saw him in this body, proclaiming he must be a Greek or Roman statue.

He feels like a statue.

A statue that melts the moment his younger self's fingertips grace his forehead. This version of himself from this past echoes himself from earlier, "you seem tired," his cold, poor-circulation touch draws the strands hair swept against his face back into his more modern, brushed back style.

Steve sighs with the weight pressing on his shoulders. It feels even heavier than usual.

Maybe... maybe he should've expected this.

He remembers the fatigue that pulled at his bones, tugging until he was slogged down into the mud and could hardly move; his heart struggling to beat, his thoughts fighting their way to conference-y, his mood dampening to constant exhaustion. If anyone can read the weight on his shoulders through the lines on his forehead and the slump of his back, of course, it would be his younger self.

The weight of his illnesses have been gone for years at this point, but they've been replaced and doubled by the weight of a moniker, which means nothing to this version of himself.

Suddenly, there is no point pretending.

Was it really so long ago that he was this version of himself? Was he really so young when he was made the face of the war? How young was he when he awoke to be the face of a new effort? A new team? How young is he now?

Steve barely stifles a sudden, chest-squeezing sound. A sob?

His younger self says nothing. He only steps in closer. Close enough for Steve to bury his face in the concave, hard plane of his stomach, and ring his hands around his boney, thin hips. His entire waist fits in the circle of Steve's index fingers and thumbs. Two hands. He feels each clumsy beat of his heart. He feels the stutter of his uneven breaths. He feels how cool he is, even right here at his core. How is he standing? How is he taking his weight? Steve may be tired, but his younger self must be exhausted. He can't--

How could he burden his y--

"Nope," his younger self holds his shoulders in both hands. Fingers digging in sharply, intent on getting his message across and not afraid to be mean about it. "You're not going anywhere."

This time, Steve does sob. Audibly. He is tired. He's so tired.

To conclude:

I have lots of emotions about post-serum Steve and the world taking advantage of his strength.

Thank you for the request!

P.S. I kept listening to this while I was writing:

[https-yuqiivdol]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮: 𝓐𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓼𝓪𝓿𝓮..?

Chrt/ Jeongin and Han(mainly Jeongin), Y/n

Genre: thriller/horror

Σ(°△°|||) Warning: mentions of blood, implied panic attack(Jeongin), Han is literally almost dead. Let me know if I missed anything!

Plot: You're just like the others, going to your basic university, and of course, you love the popular stray kids, but even then, you have a strange feeling about them and avoid them like a virus. Your suspicions would never be confirmed true. Until one day, life takes a particular path...

《Masterlist》

You work part-time at a convenience store, for you it was a good way to blance school and make money, as you only worked on mondays and wednesday. When you walk into the employees' room to turn off the power, you call it a day. Using your flashlight, you walk through the woods. It was sadly the only way you could get to your car, you have considered changing your parking spot but a couple of thirty minutes (the extra twenty walking through the woods ) versus trying to find a good spot on hours on end, just swerving your car is a much better deal, Then you hear a twig snap turning around with your flash light in hand. You hear a noise in a distance "Help" a blood curling scream reached your ears... full-blown panic. What do you do here? You're in the middle of the woods, just as the night sky bloomed, and there's a person screaming for help, and you don't know where the noise is coming from. So with no sense of direction where the person would be, you decided to walk ahead and see if you could get a clue of where the person might be, but after a few minutes you saw something you never thought you would see as you got to the source of the yelling, Han and Jeongin from your school, but... Han and Jeongin were in horrible condition but Han was worse, his hair is mess, his nose is bleeding and his mouth was dripping blood to his chin, was he dead?, his whole body is coved with restless scratches, were you right about these boys? What the hell happened to them? Jeongin nose is bleeding, his arm has a large cut on it, and his face has some cuts on it, and as tears dripped from his face, his breathing is heavier it's obvious he's been running for a long time. You hear something behind you as you walk closer. Before you can look behind, Jeongin pushes you behind him and grabs your flashlight.

That's when you heard it, it was something you knew if someone said they saw what you heard, you would tell them to chill out, and stop Hallucinating but you saw something, and it had sorts of long claws, it didnt have skin from what you saw, and... it just burts into flames the second the flashlight faced it. Just what the hell is the thing?, you couldnt see anything else, and you're glad you didn't. It then screams, reaching your ears. The shriek it led out was horrible, yet full of pain... can it even feel pain? you guessed by the way it was screaming. As it was basically being burned alive, but how, and why..? You thought they got attacked by an aggressive bear, wolf, hell, even a fox.. what... is that? After that question, though, it was over.

It was over..? All you see are ashes with flames covering the ground as your hand sat beside you with jeongin infront of you, you turn to Han who leaned on a tree but quickly turned back having questions that needed answers "What the hell was that?" You sat up and pointed at the ashes that monster was, Jeongin went silent for a second the spoke up in a very quiet tone " That was a creation of the Sound monster, the type was a Photothesitatic" Youre shocked by the lack of emotion he's giving off now, before you knew he was screaming his lungs out "And what are you doing here?, what the happened to Han and are there more of that monster? How did you kill that monster to begi-" "I'll tell you later, but can we please get Han to safety..?" You realize he was obviously overwhelmed with your questions and wanted to focus on what was more important, you now feel really guilty for getting carried away "okay, a convenience store I work at is this way-" you point to the way of your job "-the power is working there." Jeongin noded, letting you lead the way by giving you the flashlight and picking Han up.

The walk all the way back was silent, but you could tell Jeongin was on the verge of crying, you open the door and locked it behind you guys for the sense of safety. You sprint into the employees room turning on the power and pulling out a medkit in a attempt to disinfect and bandage his and Hans wounds, you were worried mainly about Han, you didnt have the correct or necessary resources to help him, and Han didn't wake up once but when you got close to him, he was breathing so you calmed down a little. You grabbed your phone and started calling 911. When the ambulance came, you and Jeongin were patched up, and Han was taken in the ambulance, two police officers came in to talk to you and originally Jeongin but he was too shaken up, crying too much to even answers questions. "What is your relationship with the young man?" You were shaken too, but the right now the only person able to answer the police is you, "I'm a classmate of him-" after a lot of talking to officers and officers talking to each other, you take the chance to clean up.

You were left with jeongin, who was able to calm down, closing the door, finally closing the store. "I wanted to thank you, Y/n, for coming to save us... if you waited any longer, we would've been dead, Han and I owe you." Your heart softened as the younger bowed to you. You grabbed him by both shoulders, making him lift his head up."You already owed up to me, remember? When you killed that... Photo thee-ahh?" You cringed at your very poor attempt to say the word. "Anyways- what I'm saying is that you don't owe anything to me... not you, not Han, not anyone, okay?" You smile as one of your hand goes to his cheek as a attempt to comfort him, he looks at you and stands up straight, his dried tear face forms a small smiles though its small, it's still there "I'm sorry, you must've had so many questions I-" "It can wait" you cut him off, you didn't want anymore pressure on him like you did before. "Can you walk home..? I can drive you to the dorms if you want! I'm going anyway." You say as you swing your bag over your head."Yes... thank you."

When you tell the police officers you and Jeongin will be leaving, thinking it's safer, the police officers follow you guys to your car. You thank the policemen as you start the car, during the ride, you drove slow, relaxing music plays on your radio to ease the tension, as you pull into the driveway and park your car, Jeongin speaks up "Um do you think you can put your phone number... O-or anything you're comfortable with, really, " He nervously says. You chuckle at his nervousness. "Okay, how about I give you my number, and we can go from there?" You reassure him, "right! Yeah, that'll work. " You pull out your number, Jeongin immediately pulls out his phone and starts typing down. You walk into your dorm, locking it behind you. In your bed you had a hard time sleeping, you couldnt help but think about what you saw, what you heard, you turn on you phone put on some relaxing music to ease yourself, slowly falling asleep.

▪︎ I hope you like the story so far! Please reblog and comment so more people see my work. Sadly, liking doesn't work. (╥﹏╥)

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Eight, Part 4

She didn't say anything, and placed her hand right over my heart. I could smell her shampoo. The sweet smell of watermelon candy.

I gritted my teeth and prepared for the question that always plays as a follow-up. Why? Everyone wants to know why, and to be perfectly honest, I don't really have a real answer, or reason. I don't know why I decided that cutting my skin open was some kind of medicine or came to learn razor blades to be comforting and home.

But the question never came. We just laid there, lost in are own thoughts. And I'm not sure, but that may have been worse. I couldn't even guess what she was thinking, which meant that, in my mind, she could only be calculating her escape. I'd been prepared for that moment since that very first drink. I knew someday she'd realize I am way to fucked up and unhealthy to be good in any relationship. The room felt heavy and the air itself seemed to weigh everything down, tightly. It was almost claustrophobic. Silence is a powerful force. I wasn't sure I could take it.

"I was really kind of a stupid kid," I finally said, feeling the strong need to break the silence. It wasn't so much that it was awkward, more like it was suffocating. I really did not want to face yet another anxiety attack. So I broke the silence.

"Huh?" Addison asked and looked at me. Her face seemed lost at thought. I swear I could see a panic in her eyes. A panic that screamed this wasn't worth it. That I was way too much trouble then initially thought. And still, I wouldn't blame her.

"I said I was kind of a stupid kid," repeating my words into the dimly lit room's airspace.

"I wouldn't say stupid. I mean, it seems more troubling then stupid. I just can't understand it. Why someone does it." Her voice was soft, and quiet. It was comforting, and in her tone she created a safe place where this could be talked about as it was, just a bad moment in my history. She could've been a therapist. She would've probably excelled at it.

"I wish I knew. I don't remember how I got the idea that cutting my skin open was a smart and healthy way to cope with depression. I wish could remember," I said. I'd said that whole line before. It was burned into my brain like all the other instant response I had stashed.

"You don't still do it, do you?"

"No. It's been years."

"Good."

The room went silent again. Outside, a car alarm shouted it's annoying sounds out into the night time air. Eventually, it's owner clicked it off. The silence was deafening.

"I was a pretty trouble kid in high school," I said, once again breaking up the silence. "My parents divorced and I watched my family completely implode." My parents divorce did have a major effect on me, but my troubles were started well before my dad walked out on my mom. My brain never worked properly and I spent most of my adolescence in a series of depression. I even got my 'free grippy sock vacation' during this time. I just never stuck around long enough or even followed through which might have saved me a lot of trouble coming in the future. But I was depressed teenager. Who ever heard of such a rarity?

"And it wasn't like I could talk to a friend. I really didn't have any."

"There wasn't anybody?" Addison asked.

"No, not really. The town I grew up in is a very rural farmland type of place. Being a goth kid in high school there was like signing a death warrant. I was picked on every single day by quite a few different kids. I was an easy target. They may be pieces of shit, but let's face it, I make an easy target. I was a guy wearing eye liner and eye shadow, black lipstick. All my clothes were black, and my pants always looked so big."

Addison was giving me her full attention now, and it felt weird. I ever liked being center stage, even during the days of Crazy Chris, or worse yet, in the many bands Chad and I would attempt at starting up. I think there were three or four times we had a full band set up and we'd go to practise and I'd find I couldn't sing. Stage fright, performance anxiety, whatever. I suffered it.

"I'd get the shit kicked out me on a pretty regular schedule. And it wasn't like I could go to the teachers. That may be what the world says to do, but when you're fifteen you know that it isn't a good idea. And I stand by that it isn't a good idea, and usually only makes things a million times worse.. So I took my beatings and the constant namecalling. I think I've been called a faggot in three different languages." I stopped to take a breath. The words were coming out in long sentences. And fast. I had to stop to remind myself to breathe. And to sse if Addison still looked like it mattered. Her face said it did.

"My self-esteem was destroyed. And one day I just got it in my head to cut myself. I don't know ther reason, but the first time the razor cut, it was shallow and only beaded up with blood. I think that was my favorite part of the self-harm era."

"What? Bleeding?" Even as she scrunched her nose up at the very thought of someone enjoying to see themselves blood.

"Kind of, yeah. I liked watching blood leave trails down my arms. For some reason, it made everything else not matter as much. Like any addiction, I enjoyed it at first, but by then end of it, I'm just lucky it didn't kill me." I sighed. Not a sad sigh. Like an "this is almost finished" kind of way.

[inkedmyths]

[[So I just woke up from a Fucked Up Dream and I just. Yeah. Not 100% accurate to what I dreamed, mostly bc I'm already forgetting some details]]

Statement of Inked Myths, regarding the passing of an ill relative. Statement given June 18, 2023. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

---

Statement begins.

-

I wasn't supposed to be home.

That's the thing I keep coming back to. I wasn't supposed to be home at the time. If I hadn't been home, my mom would be dead. Maybe the rest of us would be dead too. I don't—

...I don't think I want to think about that.

Anyways. I guess I should start off with the background, first, right. You have to understand that first.

I live with my family. Well, my mom's side of the family. Sometimes I think it makes me a disappointment, you know. Twenty year old still living in the house. I try not to dwell on it, though. Did you know the whole "move out right at 18" thing only really became a thing in the 1950's? Same with the nuclear family model. It was a couple of decades worth of a fluke, a country wealthy enough that you could do that. Now, it's so damn difficult to make a living wage, and people still expect you to move out—

Er. Sorry. Back on topic.

So, yeah, I live with my family. It's me, my mom, my grandmother, grandfather, and...

...And my great grandpa. Or, was.

That last one, um. That's why I'm here today.

My great grandfather had been ill for a long time. So's my grandfather, but Grandpy was worse off. It's just, life, you know? He was so old, and you rarely get that old and stay in good health. So he just kind of sat around most days, sitting in his chair, watching television or reading or whatever it was he did to pass the time.

I– God. I feel. I feel so bad, you know? I barely know what he even liked. I just... like he was always just kind of there, in the background, and I never... never really talked with him. I had my life and it was going too fast to stop and just. Just talk. God, who knows how long that— that thing—

Right. Getting ahead of myself.

Point is, he was sick, and had been for a long time. We took care of him, as best we could. Not really qualified, since none of us are really caretakers, but. Well. Homes cost money, and the best one we could find was so far away, so. We did our best.

...He used to talk. Just, a lot. To anyone who happened to pass by his chair. Just, about anything. What he was watching, recent news, reminiscing about times gone by. Sometimes it was just nonsense. He just liked talking. My grandmother always said to try and listen to him, if just for a little bit. That he just wanted some comoany for a while. I was never— never the greatest, at sitting and listening. Just. Don't like sitting still, and it tended to be boring, and. God, I feel like an asshole. But I mean. We all tried.

It should have been a huge red flag, when he stopped talking one day.

I think... I think we all assumed it was a sign of his health taking another bad turn. That happens. One day they can chatter your ears off, the next they can't. Perfectly natural.

Life went on, but it was. Unnerving. He'd always been talkative. Always. And he stopped watching his television, so it was always silent down there now. It freaked me out, so I avoided the downstairs even more than I already did.

I wasn't supposed to be home, that day.

Last week, I'd gone to school, you know, as normal, but. God. Have you ever had a feeling of dread so, so awful, you feel actually sick? I thought my unease would go away, but it just. It stayed, evolved, and I just couldn't shake that gut-wrenching feeling that something bad was about to happen.

Mom was off early, so I called, and had her pick me up. Not that home felt much better but, god, I didn't want to sit through fucking pre-calc while I felt like this. I figured it was just a particularly nasty bout of anxiety. I don't usually get, like, the whole shaking and crying and having a hard time breathing panic attacks, but I do get, like. Deep bouts of anxiety where I can't eat and feel really jittery.

Mom picked me up, asked if I was ok. I just kind of, shrugged, said the anxiety was bad today. She nodded. Her phone went off. My great grandfather was calling. Mom groaned, and ignored it.

He'd been calling all day, she said. Asking when she'd be home. Over, and over. When would she be home?

In hindsight this is. God. I wasn't supposed to be home. He— no, it. It didn't plan for me being there.

So, we got home, and went up to our rooms, like we always do. I sat down for a while, tried to take comfort in more familiar, quieter surroundings, but couldn't. That feeling of dread just felt like it was growing, and growing, and.

You know, I just read the other day that it's a symptom of a heart attack. This overwhelming feeling of dread. That it's your body knowing something is really, really wrong, without being able to tell it to you specifically. I've never had a heart attack, but I imagine that feeling is probably not to far off from what I was feeling then.

I decided to go down and grab a snack. Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly jittery, it's just because I haven't eaten enough. So, I got up, and stopped by mom's room, asked her if she wanted something, and she said she'd be down in a second.

I turned away, walked to the top of the stairs and.

And was face to face with my great grandfather.

He was standing. He was on the stairs. He he hadn't— he hadn't been able to walk unassisted in— in years! He was standing on his own, walking up the stairs, in a way I'd never seen him do! It looked wrong. Like the slightest breeze should knock him over, like he should be shaking from the effort of standing. But he stood, like it was normal, though it was anything but.

The dread turned into terror when my eyes met— met it's. Because in that moment I knew that this? This was not my great grandfather. It was something else. Something pretending to be him. Empty eyes stared back at me, devoid of that little twinkle he'd always had, no matter what he was talking about. They were just... just empty, like glass.

I didn't even have time to scream. He— it lunged at me, grabbed me, and.

You know that thing in dreams, where you can't move or scream? Where you like, try to scream, but nothing comes out?

It is so, so much worse when it happens in real life.

I struggled, tried to break away, trying to scream. I couldn't. I could barely move, the moment it grabbed me. It was like it was... draining, me. Of my strength, my life even. I couldn't— I couldn't fight back. I fell backwards, wheezing, desperately trying to free myself, to scream, to hit something and make a noise. It's grip moved towards my throat, and there was nothing I could do.

I don't know if my struggle managed to make enough noise, or if my mom had just arbitrarily decided that was when she was going to get up and go join me downstairs. Or maybe she, too, had felt the same dread I had, and couldn't stand it anymore.

She walked out of her room to my struggle for my life.

I don't really remember exactly. I just know she knocked it off of me, and we both ended up downstairs.

And I know it lunged for her, next.

Free from its weird, freezing grasp, I ran. Fight or flight, and for maybe the first time in my life, I was choosing fight. I'm not a strong person, but, but that was my mom, she was in danger, and so was I, and. I ran into the kitchen, and grabbed a knife. Cliche, maybe, but what else was I supposed to do.

I ran back, to where it now had my mom in that same, awful grip. She was frozen, like I had been, unable to do more than try and not fall over, unable to shake it off as its cold, thin fingers dug into her arms.

But all its attention was focused on her. Maybe it thought I had run away completely. It's back was to me, and I had an opening.

I've never, in my life, killed anything more than a bug. Never gone hunting, never slaughtered a pig or whatever. Never really had the stomach for it.

I took the knife I grabbed, and without hesitation, plunged it into that thing's back. It plunged deep, like through sponge, a streak of blood spurting out. I guess it didn't have much substance. It just kind of... shuddered, squirmed a bit around the knife, and then it just... went still.

I didn't expect it to be that easy. Maybe it wasn't built to be stabbed, or whatever. With an ability to render someone imobile with a touch, other physical defenses aren't a priority I suppose.

My mother and I stood in silence. Then, realizing how this looked, I set about cleaning up. Not really, I mean, I was in shock, but I got the body out of the front entryway. Dragged it outside, back behind the house. I knew we had to properly dispose of it or something, but didn't know what else to do about it, for now.

Then me and my mom just kind of. Sat there, for a moment. And she said, "I should have known. He just kept calling, and calling, asking when I'd be home."

I wasn't supposed to be home. It had been planning on going after my mom, and wasn't expecting me. That had probably saved our lives.

The rest of my family came home, along with my uncle and his family. They'd been talking, apparently, about how something was wrong with my great grandfather, how he'd just stopped talking and they needed to figure out what was wrong.

Mom and I exchanged a look.

I don't know what she told them. I'd had enough for the day. I wandered back up to my room, closed the door, and collected myself.

I... I don't remember when exactly he'd stopped talking. That must have been it, right? When he'd been... been replaced? How long had it been? How long had we had that thing in our house, biding its time and waiting to kill us?

It's gone now. My uncle burned what was left of it. We haven't talked about it since.

I'm not sure I'll ever feel safe in my home again.

-

Statement ends.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone just walked in here and confessed to murdering their ailing relative in the midst of some kind of fit. I debated calling the police on this matter, but decided against it. I have some doubts as to whether or not it would be taken seriously, or, given our Institute's reputation, if it would be passed off as not enough evidence, if not outright a prank.

It does fit with the running theme of doppelgangers that I've noticed in several statements. I'm not sure if that lends it more or less credit.

There is... another reason, I did not call the police on this. I had Sasha do some digging on the family, to try and figure out which members were referred to, particularly this "great grandfather". As it turns out, the man in question was recorded as having passed peacefully in his sleep... 16 years before this statement was given.

Statement ends.

[crystalsblogcorner]

After a long wait, chapter 4 is finally done and out! Hope y'all enjoy it and sorry it took so long, school and all hit me like a train and i haven't been able to move for often, but it's done and if you haven't read the others, go and read those or nothing is gonna make sense. I am also taking requests for stories, if you have one just send me a ask! Hope y'all enjoy!

Word count: 3963 words

TW: this has vore, panic attacks, and blood so if you don't like those things, don't read

Chapter 3

School Days

  *Beep Beep Beep* Tubbos alarm sounds, the screen flashes red with the number 7:30 am. After a few seconds of constant beeping, tubbo slaps the top of it, making the annoying sound stop in its tracks. "Ugh, damn it's morning already?" Tubbo groans, slightly propping himself up, but stops as he feels a shift of movement on his lower abdomen. He looks down to find Ranboo, his best friend that his mom "bought" about a week ago. He tilted his head and smiled, watching as his tiny chest rose and fell with every breath. " I won't let anything happen to you, not again," Tubbo whispers as he gently nudges Ranboo, accidentally flipping him over completely before whispering ,"Ranboo, time to wake up."

  Ranboo's silent for moment until he mumbles back tiredness still fogging his brain, "five more minutes." Tubbo sighs as he picks up Ranboo, setting him to the side before getting up and slipping on his fuzzy bee slippers. 

  "Ok fine, just five minutes and then we gotta go, ok?" Tubbo tells him before hearing a small "mk" from his sleepy friend. He smiles and walks towards the door, opening slightly before walking through it, closing the door behind him with a thud.

-a few minutes later-

"Ok Ranboo it's time to go," tubbo whispers as he opens the door, looking over to see ranboo staring right at him, his irises glowing a bright purple. Woah, that's new, tubbo thinks before saying, "y- you ready?"

  "Mhm," ranboo sleepily replies as he walked across the fluffy bed. As he did this, tubbo put on his hoodie, the baggage will help hide Ranboos form when he in his pocket. He looks at ranboo, his tail wagging side to side as he rubs his eyes. Tubbo laughs quietly before setting his hand down, ranboo climbing impatiently onto it. Tubbo slowly brings him up to the hoodie pocket, ranboo climbing in not long after. After ranboo gets settled, tubbo grabs his bag that sits beside his bed, before sliding over his arms. Tubbo turns and walks out of his room, quietly going past his mom's room, not wanting to wake her up. After getting down to the kitchen he grabs a pop tart out of the pantry, before opening it and snapping off a piece and gives it to ranboo. After ranboo takes the piece, tubbo sits on one of the stools and begins eating the rest of the poptarts.

   As tubbo eats his breakfast ranboo asks, " why do I need to stay in your hoodie pocket again while your with other people?" Tubbo swallows the piece before replying.

  "Because I don't want you getting hurt, and you being close to me helps that," tubbo explains before taking another bite, finishing the last poptart. Holding a hand under the pocket he gets up before walking towards the door. He grabs the doorknob and twists, letting the door open before walking through. "Now let's get to school," tubbo tells ranboo as he closed the door behind him before he walked to his car, opening the driver seat door and hopping in. Tubbo closes the door and buckles his seatbelt before her turned on the car, his dark green kia rumbled as he did. He put the car into reverse and pulled out of their driveway before driving off to the Oakwood high school. 

-30 minutes later-

As they pull up the school parking lot space, Tubbo unbuckles his seatbelt, before grabbing his backpack from the passenger seat and getting out of the car. He looks around before nudging ranboo, feeling him roll over and mumble something along the lines of, "little longer." I'll let him sleep. He clearly needs it, Tubbo told himself before walking to the two glass doors, opening them to a large hallway. He sees a few other students walking around the side hall, most of them talking with one another. As he walked in, a few of the older kids looked at him with judging eyes before going off about whatever they were talking about before. 

   Maybe I should go somewhere else, tubbo thinks to himself before speed walking to the library and heads inside, exhaling in relief to the sound of silence. He calmly walks over to the nearest table and sits down, grabbing some paper and pen out of his bag before begining to doodle on the paper. A few minutes pass before the sound of books falling catches tubbos attention, making him look away from his paper towards the sound.

  "Hello? Who's there,'' Tubbo demands sheepishly, standing out of his chair with pen still in hand. He looked into the dark corner, squinting hard as he saw a silhouette in the darkness. He walked closer, then the thing turned to look over its shoulder in a bird-like manner, its golden yellow eyes staring right at him, making him feel uneasy. The creature comes closer, revealing itself in the light from the window. Tubbo looks again over its features, realizing it's a hybrid boy, just like him. This boy has tiny wings, a raccoon-like tail, and hair that is as shiny as his eyes are gold. 

  "You look new, some type of goat I suppose," the boy exclaimed, making circles around tubbo, his tail and ears flicking curiously, "what's your name, 'ought to get to know you." 

  "Um, t- tubbo, what's yours," tubbo replied as he watched him circle him.

 "It's Tommy, but you can call me big man Toms," Tommy replied before hopping onto one of the tall shelves, sitting there like a gargoyle, his tail swaying back and forth. "So, how long have you been here, haven't seen you around here much," Tommy asked as he sat there. 

  "Uh, only for a few months, just moved here," tubbo told him as he messed with his jacket string, but froze when he felt ranboo move before he leaned onto the edge of the pocket.

  "Who are you talking to?" Ranboo asked tiredly as he looked around the room, seeing Tommy looking straight at him, "um tubbo."

  "What?" He looked back up at tommy who was looking down at ranboo, his eyes staring at him before asking.

  "What's that? Never seen anything like it." Tommy jumped from his post, making tubbo step back a bit.

  "His name is ranboo, and he's not a thing, he's a friend," tubbo explained, holding ranboo close while he's still in the pocket. 

  Tommy stood up straight before laughing, "you really think I would hurt him, don't you? God that's so funny, I like you," he jumped down and put out his clawed hand before asking, "wanna be friends?"

  "Uh, sure why not," tubbo said as he shook Tommy's hand, the first bell going off not long after. "Well it was nice meeting you tommy, but I gotta go to class," he explains as he picks up his stuff and slings his backpack over his shoulder," bye."

    "Bye tubbo, and if you need help with somethin' just call my name and I'll come runnin'!" Tommy says back as he hops onto another shelf, now out of sight, leaving tubbo alone again.

    Tubbo sighed before pushing out the doors, leaving for his classrooms. He walked down the winding hall before he got to his favorite class, reading. 

    He walked in, taking his seat in the back corner, where no one really pays attention to. He sat down and got out his supplies while the other kids chatted amongst themselves, before the teacher called out, "quiet down and turn to page 149 of your books and begin reading." Everyone stopped talking and took out their books before they started reading immediatly, except tubbo who was drawing on a peice of paper with earbuds in, listening to an audiobook instead. The teacher looked over at him and smiled brefily before going back to grading papers.

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

    Tubbo walks down the crowded hall towards his last class of the day PE, the large metal door coming into sight as he turns the corner. He weaves through the crowd of students towrds the doors, but as he reaches the doors he's pulled into the library and thrown against one of the bookshelves, Ranboo getting knocked out of the pocket in the process. Tubbo hits his head on the mohogany shelves, putting his hand on his head as he sees two highschoolers grab at his arms, immobilizing his movement and ranboo hiding behind tubbos pant leg. Tuboo rapidly glances around the library before hearing the sound of claws being scraped across one of the bookshelves, another highschooler comes out from behind the bookshelf, a cat hybrid with void-like fur covering his legs and part of his neck.

   "Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in? Why isn't it Dream's younger brother, Tubbo," he spoke, his voice stinging at tubbos ears as he continued, "and I think you know why you're here, isn't that right?"

   "Y- yes, and I still don't have t- the money to repay you, i'm trying, a- and im sorry, ill make s- sure to get it," tubbo stammered, but stops as the cat hybrid grabs at shirt and says.

   "Is this all just a game to you? It's been two months since the last time you said that! I'm getting impatient about this agreement and if you don't get it through your thick skull, i'm going to take the thing you love most..." tubbo gulps at the last few words that spill from his mouth, but the feeling of tiny hands grabbing at tubbos pant leg makes tubbo looks slightly down, seeing ranboo gripping his pants.

   The cat looks at tubbo confusingly and then looks down to where he's looking, seeing Ranboo, an evil grin spreads across his face ear to ear.

"Well, I guess you have a little pet with you, how sweet," the bully chuckles softly before he snatches ranboo up with a single clawed hand, 

"Don't touch him! He's not a pet, he's a-,"Tubbos pleads but gets cut off by one of the goons that kept him held in place by putting their hand over his mouth. Tubbo watches his friend Ranboo squirm as he tries to escape, but a pained wheeze escapes ranboo mouth as the hybrid squeezes his abdomen. 

  "He's a what? I didn't quite catch that last bit, did you mean to say snack perhaps, maybe a little treat after PE, hm?" The cat mocks, his clawed finger fumbling with ranboos mismatched hair as he talks. Ranboos' face went pale at the remark of the term "snack," his heart fastening under the bandages his scars are covered with. The bully smells the air and sighs in satisfaction before saying, "Ah... I just love the smell of fear.. The scent is so scrumptious it is unbearable, can you smell it Tubbo?" Tubbo takes a whiff of the air, his nose scrunching along with a disgusted look spreaded across his face afterwards. 

   Ranboos eyes flick from the person that holds him to his friend tubbo, whose eyes lock with tears filling the corners of his eyes, ranboos captor smiles and asks," Oh... so this is what you have a strong connection with huh? A thing that you love?" Tubbo looks at him and struggles, knowing well what he's meaning, before biting the hand that covers his mouth, the goon pulling his hand away from tubbo.

   "Don't you even touch a single hair on him you jerk!" tubbo demands, the cat looking at him like a fool as he chuckled

   "Oh I won't, you will..." as he said that, both of the highschoolers let go of tubbos arms and walked to stand behind the cat hybrid, who hands ranboo over haphazardly before continuing," you wanna why we were created tubbo?"

   "N- no,'' Tubbo replies as he holds his friend in a fist, ranboo eyes looking around wildly, looking dazed immensely. 

   "We were created to kill the weak tubbo, we were created to destroy things like the little pests they are, so with that, I want you to destroy your little pet, that'll buy you some time to get the money," the cat says with a monotone voice, his eyes scowling tubbo like he was a little sheep he is. Ranboos eyes go wide on what the bully demands tubbo to do, his squirming increasing in tubbos hands, tubbo squeezing upon instinct.

  Tubbo steps back against the bookshelf before stammering, "I won't, and you can't make me or i'll-"

   "You'll do what? Call your big brother to save you? He isn't here to save you now, and if you won’t, I will," the cat intejects, pointing at himself as he stepped closer and continued, " and don't worry, you'll get the hang of it, you just gotta try it out first."

   Tubbo looks down at ranboo, whose face filled with disbelief as he shakes his head, his eyes wide and tears filling the corners, making tubbo wince.

   "Hurry up, or do I have to take this into my own hands?" the cat says impatiently, his tail flicking back and forth behind him.

   Tubbo closes his eyes and shoves Ranboo into his mouth, the saltiness and coppery flavor immediately hitting tubbos tongue. Tubbo makes a disgusted face and puts his hand on his mouth, feeling ranboo bang on his teeth as tiny tears hit his tongue, hearing his tiny pleads on being let out. He presses ranboo to the roof of his mouth and swallows the excess saliva. He lowers ranboo and moves him to the back of the throat and swallows, his friend sucked down and down after every swallow. His guilt is unbearable, but he smiles slightly as he looks up at the cat hybrid.

   "Damn, just diving into the deep end huh? You even got blood on your teeth," the cat remarks as he turns and makes his way to the door, his goons following suit, "See you in a month or two I guess." 

    As they leave through the library door, tubbo collapses to his knees, one of his hands to his abdomen and one to his mouth, trying hard not to throw up on what just happenedbefore whispering.

   "Ranboo?"

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

   Ranboos filled with disbelief as he bangs on tubbos teeth as he begs to be let out, "Tubbo let me out! Please!"

   Tears sting his eyes as he bangs on tubbos canines with brute force, discombobulated thoughts rushing through his mind, Why did I trust him!?  I should've ran when I had the chance, now i'm going to die by my own friend. Before long he gets pinned to the the roof of tubbos mouth, felling one of his stitches pop under the bandages, blood seeping his already saliva-soaked sweater.He winces in pain and tries to move, but stops in his tracks when he hears the worst sound imaginable,

 Gulp .

   He screws his eyes shut for the worst, but he didn't even move, only lowered from the roof of the mouth slowly. He sighs in relief, but that relief is short-lived when he's slid back towards the throat, his breath hitching when he hears another swallow, sending half his body into the throat, and another sealing his fate, sending him down and down after every swallow. His body being crushed by the moving muscles which make it feel like hell, the bone crushing feeling like minutes until it opens up into a pouch, him landing face first into a liquid. 

   Acid, Ranboos mind jumps to and he scrambles to get out, his body trembling and aching while his mind is fogging, his body being overwhelmed by the sounds of working organs around him. Tubbos heart beating fast, while his lungs hyperventilate. Ranboos curls upon himself, his mind racing and body trembling, the feeling of numbness overwhelming him. He doesn't even get mercy on not being able to see his flesh being melted off his bones due to the greenish glow the entire stomach has. "Please let me out tubbo! Please..." Ranboo sobs out, wincing under the pain his body has endured, putting pressure on the popped stitches on his lower abdomen. A few minutes pass of silence minus the working organs around him, which has slowed down to a moderate heartbeat and breathing.

   Ranboo sits there, trembling under everything that just happened, the recurring thought that's popping up in his mind, Why did I trust him so much. But that thought is rushed away when ranboo is squished, most of his body flung into the glowing goo. He squirms a bit to try to get in a better position, but bites his lip in pain.

   "Ranboo?" Tubbo whispered, his hand letting go of the chamber, letting ranboo breathe and fall back into the goo that's settled at the bottom of the stomach.

   Ranboo silently sobs by the sound of tubbos' voice, his body curling up on himself.

   "Shit shit shit," Tubbo curses, getting up and running out of the library, the bathroom not far.

   Ranboo falls back into the goo, sticking to his hair and clothes, the smell being horrible. He looks down at his skin, picturing his skin falling off his bones, but not even a burn has shown on his body, but he spots tiny holes scattered about his sweater and bandages, faint sizzling emitting off the holes.

  The jostling slows, the sound of tubbo trying to cough him up. The organ squeezes and pushes ranboo uncomfortably up tubbos throat and back up onto a paper towel, along with the goo he was sitting in. 

   "Ranboo! Are you alright," Tubbo asked worriedly as he tries to wipe the excess acid, only for ranboo to push the paper towel away, tears in his eyes. "Ranboo... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, I- I just tried to protect you."

   "Oh yea. Is this protecting to you!?" Ranboo snaps at him, pulling on his saliva and blood soaked sweater, the holes showing visibly through the fabric and onto the bandages that cover his stitches, "I could've died and you would've just went on your way, knowing fully well that you did it!" 

   "It's was the only way, I read that your kind is immune to it in a book somewhere, I know I hurted you but I didn't mean it, and you're bleeding, God I'm so sorry..." Tubbo explains, but his explanation falling onto deaf ears, ranboo visibly shaking with fear in tubbos palm.

   Ranboo collapses to his knees and sobs into the heels of his palms, the situation overwhelming him tremendously. "I-I thought I could trust you..." Ranboo sobs out, his breathing hitching as he spoke every word. 

   The bell rings for everyone to go home, Tubbo sighing before saying as he sets ranboo in his pocket, "c'mon ranboo, let's go home."

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

   Ranboo sits in his kennel and looks down at his ruined sweater, the holes burned through the fabric enough to put his hand through, making him think, why did my sweater burn but not me? The door opens and tubbo walks in,closing the door behind him and he flops onto his bed.

   "Good night ranboo... Rest well ok?" Tubbo says in a monotone voice. Ranboo stays silent and picks up his journal, looking at technos address he wrote onto the first page. 

   14th Cadbury Ave. 296 That's not far from here, ranboo thought, the faint noise of tubbo snoring making ranboo make up his mind. Ranboo ties all his blankets together and ties them to the crate before throwing the rest out the cracked window, reaching the ground perfectly. Ranboo grabs a hoodie and slips it on, grabbing his journal and the blanket rope after. He looks at tubbo one more time before climbing down, landing on the soft grass a few minutes later. "14th Cadbury Ave. it's this way I believe," ranboo whispers to himself as he walks away from the underscore household, and into the unknown of the world.

   -few hours later- 

   Tubbo wakes up from a nightmare, his face sweaty and heart racing, but a chilly breeze hits him, making him look over at the cracked window. He pushes the blankets off him and slips on his slippers before getting up and walks over to the window. He grabs the window sill to push it down but stops as he sees the blankets wrapped together to make a rope, leading outside. Tubbo panics and looks into ranboos crate, seeing nothing inside, making his heart skip a beat. He opens his door and goes down the hall and opens puffy's door, tubbo going over to puffy and shaking her gently awake repeating, "mom, ranboo's gone and I think he left out the window."

   Puffy wakes up and says, "you sure? Did you check in his kennel?" Tubbo nods his head vigorously, puffy looking at him with disbelief. Puffy gets out of bed and follows tubbo to his room, tubbo turning on the light as he walks in. 

   "Oh my..." Puffy says as she sees the blankets rope tied the the transport kennel, "why would he leave?"

   Tubbo feels a pang of guilt as puffy asks that question, the taste of copper unable to leave his mouth, it eating away at his conscience. 

  "Tubbo? Is there something you need to tell me?" Puffy asks in a worried tone, tubbo sighing and sitting on his bed with his head in his hands.

   "I messed up so badly at school yesterday," tubbo explains as puffy sits beside him as he continues, " so yesterday the bully I've told you about said he'll take the thing I l-loved most if I didn't get him the money, and he found ranboo hiding with me, afterwards he found out that Ranboo was the thing I loved most. And he-," tubbo stops for a moment, his breathe hitching as he continues further," he told me I had to k-kill ranboo mom, I didn't want to so the only thought I had is to eat him. I knew he wasn't going to get hurt based on his genes about being immune to acids, extreme heat and cold, I didn't mean to scare him, and he was bleeding, I-I tried to help but he just pushed me away, God I'm such a bad friend." Tubbo lays his head in his hands again. Puffy sits there for a moment before placing her hand on tubbos back and rubs it as tubbo cries into his hands.

   "You tried to protect him, he was just scared, you would probably be scared if that happened to you, just give him time, he'll come back," puffy calmly remarked as she continues rubbed circles on tubbos back before looking over at the window as she says, "I promise."

   "Just around the corner, " ranboo repeats as he walks on the side of the sidewalk through the lantern lit streets with houses lining the streets. He turns the corner and comes up to a house, 296 . Ranboo sighs with relief as he climbs the steps before reaching the gigantic door seeing the doorbell about 60 feet in the air., How am I going to ring the doorbell, ranboo thinks, but he sees a smaller door right beside it, with a accurate sized doorbell, looking exactly identical to the gigantic one. "That'll do," ranboo states as he walks over to the door and hesitantly rings the doorbell, I quiet chime emits from it. He stands there for a moment, hearing voices inside before someone opens the door, but the person isn't not techno. Instead it a tiny like him, but giant birdlike wings sit on his back along with blond hair that looks like pure gold tied up into a messy bun. He wears a dark green robe with a red heart necklace around his neck that glows faintly.

   "How can I help ya mate?" The winged tiny asks with a smile.

part 2 chapter 1

[uwusillygirl]

Hey, normal people anon 1 again ✌️

(Firstly, thanks for your reply to my last message, didn't want to clog ur inbox as I didn't have very much to add but really appreciate the thought you always put into your replies and thanks for validating my being a fast reader - I was on the top table for silent reading in primary school.)

Absolutely living for all your headcanon posts!! Especially love the parenting ones - I've been trying on+off to write a fic abt Chrissy and Eddie becoming parents and also think their first pregnancy would be unplanned and that Chrissy would find the idea of having a girl difficult and stressful, worrying that she wouldn't be able to raise her without putting any of her own struggles on her, esp in a world that is so primed to reinforce even the slightest worries about weight and looks and being "good".

If you're still doing them, I'm really interested in hearing a little more about Eddie's low days/periods in the first one's free universe. I know we got a beautiful look into it in wanna make you feel better but I wonder how it may have changed (if at all) over the years. Obviously, Chrissy has shown repeatedly (and explicitly stated) that she wants to feel useful so I wonder if that does anything to mitigate Eddie's embarrassment/feeling like a burden (the lines "He wants to be easy. He wants to make it easy." when he's telling Chrissy she doesn't have to stay and help in wmyfb actually break me), because he at least knows that she will feel good that she's able to care for him. And then also, how does it change now that they are working adults who have to like pay bills and buy food. Originally Chrissy says they can just stay in bed and ride it out as long as he needs but are they able to afford them both taking time off work at the same time? If not how do they deal with that? Idk it's something I've been thinking about since the mention that Normal Couple Days are instated automatically every time it happens in drooling on the tile and would love to hear more!

Alternatively, if it's mainly just the same as wmyfb or you just want a more alternate universe-y idea, recently I've been having immense amounts of fun building an elaborate universe with pop-princess Chrissy and Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie in a battle for the number 1 spot so would really enjoy your take on that.

hiii!!!

omg your fic sounds really sweet!!! please keep me updated if u want!!!

i'm gonna focus on the middle portion of your ask, and just write a lil answer instead of like listing headcanon if that's okay! i think that honestly chrissy's sort of compulsion for usefulness is mainly explored when they're actively interacting in that power dynamic play they sometimes do. i think that when eddie is in a mental health crisis or low point, chrissy stays pretty by the book and attentive and steps away from her like repeated "tell me i'm good, am i being good, do you like me, did i earn this" sort of persona.

emotionally speaking, i think it probably still bugs eddie that he is being a "burden" to chrissy (at least that's how he sees it).

that SAID i think that it probably mitigates some embarrassment on the physical, tangible care part. it's not like when he's having a low period suddenly chrissy takes less pleasure in caring for him, running their house, cooking, etc. so he probably doesn't worry about that as much as he would've originally.

and as for the idea of "oh we'll just do this forever", i don't think chrissy ever meant that, i think it was sort of like a way of trying to relieve the stress. i thought of it sort of in the same way some panic attack reduction practices are like paradoxical, where you tell yourself, "okay well my heart's just going to explode and i really am going to die this time and here's me accepting it" and once you really believe it the panic attack stops. in a similar sense chrissy, i think, was trying to get eddie out of a sort of elongated stress cycle over his depressive episode. "what if i never get better" being a paralyzing thought, so instead it can be like "what if i just don't think about that right now and just think about drinking this fucking glass of water", if that makes sense? none of this is like airtight or professional but chrissy is also 19 in 1987 lmao so like, she's not a doctor she was just trying something.

but to your point of how it works later and further in their life with careers and stuff, i bet it's sort of the same! she just lets him be in his episode, and if he's like "no this is really the time i never get out of it" she probably says something like "alright sure that's fine, i'll work something out for us". not because she actually thinks that'll happen, but so his brain doesn't have to focus on that one stressor when he should just be focusing on surviving.

i have never written so meta about my writing ever in my life lmao this is so wild thank you all for indulging me!

[nathank77]

6/12/24

8:38 p.m Edited/Added to

So I woke up at 3:30 p.m. I struggled to sleep for at least a hour. I also had my heart rate go crazy with palpitations for like 3 minutes solid. I guess i had a panic attack.

I was worried I was going to have to take Benadryl and then that wouldn't work and I'd have to smoke pot. Thankfully I fell asleep, it must have been before 8:12 a.m. that's when my sleep timer was going to turn off my tv. And I didn't hear American dad randomly just stop... but I really struggled. The day after the 1mg is always terrible.

I had weird dreams where I didn't sleep again. I know I had them bc I know I didnt hear American dad turn off and the chanty happy birthdays would have made me turn the tv back on. That's the only way I could have distinguished reality versus my trauma dreams.

I woke up at 2:30. I had to pee. I tried to hold it and I realized I wasn't going to sleep if I did. So I peeded and I actually fell back to sleep until 3:30 p.m. not immediately but the hour went by too fast for me to just be laying there with my eyes closed... I didn't take drugs that's an accomplishment.

I also a couple mental pictures with auditory hallucinations..... at like 2:30.. I don't remember them I don't want to. They suck.

I woke up at 3:30 went for bloodwork. My thyroid test was not there just my comprehensive metabolic Panel. I almost left cause it's useless without getting my thyroid levels pulled but luckily she found an older order and we got both. I'm awaiting results.

I went shopping after and grabbed water despite not really needing it cause I would have needed it next week and I'm still waiting on the ethics case. The two assholes weren't there but I recorded everything. I talked to the camera. Had it watch me tear open my pack. Had it watch me put back together the pack I didn't buy. I even counted my pack and the pack I put back. I was obvious and obnoxious. I took out the crunchy water bottles and showed how my hands got wet cause the products are damaged and this is why I started doing it in the first place. I made a fucking show of it. I got a 17 minute video. I really will make this national for being discriminated against for being mentally ill and of color. Don't think I won't fight for myself Walmart.

Then I went to stop and shop and bjs. And I should be able to avoid going out until next Wednesday for food but it depends... I want to do the car wash Saturday. If the weather changes then I won't.... and I'll grab a chicken. That's the only downside of not going grocery shopping Friday or Saturday. Friday I'm playing silent hill. Saturday I'm either getting the car wash or going for chicken..

Sunday is father's day... I'm planning to go obv. I just have no money for a card. I'll plan another me day for the 18th. I'm trying to cut out game days for a reason.

I got my graduation frame and I'm going to hang up my bachelor's and masters tonight. Then shower. I also got l salivarius I'll start that tonight with my cheese snack. Other than that Maybe before I shower I may go to the attic and grab my addias shorts and boxers. I'm going to do laundry tomorrow cause it accumulated fast.

I'm really lonely. I'm just trying to stay busy. The one thing I hate about my degrees are the two different names. My masters is my current name. My bachelor's is the long one I changed bc it was too long... I want to get reprints of both with Nathan Blanchette. No middle cause we all know imma change my name again anyways.

As much as my hallucination ruined the name Nathan. There is always Nate and I can ask people to call me Dexter. I got to call my old schools to see if they'll reprint my degrees eventually but that's not really on my list yet. I got get the car wash, call my endo about the standing monthly thyroid test, schedule the MacBook. And then it's next.

I also got to decide if going to the gym makes more sense then pursuing all this teeth shit I really can't afford. I think I'm going to move on it. I might start the 17th..it makes sense with the monthly billing cycle.