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buckys-black-dress · 4 years

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teddy bear - dad!bucky barnes x fem!reader

a/n: uhhh hey guys! here’s a little bit dad!bucky since im in a soft mood today, and ive been toying with this idea in my head for a little while. i typically am not one for super fluffy stuff but here’s something with tooth-rotting fluff. LOL. -ali

wc: 1.2k

Ever since you and Bucky welcomed your darling daughter into this world, your lives have been anything but normal.

At just six months old, Rebecca Stephanie Barnes was a force to be reckoned with.

You were incredibly grateful for the fact that any one of your friends would drop anything to come help with Becca, but more importantly, Bucky was always around. There was never a moment where you had felt insecure or unprepared with your daughter, because Bucky was at your beck and call.

He offered to make meals, he did the dishes and laundry, and cleaned the house diligently, and you didn’t even have to ask. He was perfect.

But you felt like he was holding back.

At night, he would avoid touching your stomach when you slept, which was odd because when you were pregnant, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

During the day, if you needed to grab something from the grocery store, he would run out and get it without question. When you were home alone, you had time to think.

Today, Becca had just been put down for a nap when you had mentioned to Bucky that you needed some pasta from the store for dinner tonight, but you stopped him before he could grab his keys and head out.

“Buck?” You inquired, freezing him in place.

“Yeah, honey? Need somethin’ else from the store?” He asked, puzzled while pulling on his shoe.

“Come sit with me before you leave real quick.” You said, patting the couch cushion next to you.

Bucky’s movements were slow and cautious, like he was waiting for a bomb to explode.

“You okay, doll? Somethin’ wrong?” His eyebrows were furrowed.

“I’m okay, babe. I just wanted to ask you something.” Your words were slow and calculated.

“O-okay. What’s up?” Bucky was clearly scared.

“Why don’t you let me go to the store? Or make dinner? Or clean up anything anymore?” You were genuinely puzzled at this point. “Or cuddle with me at night anymore?” The last question was the one that came out the quietest, meek like a mouse.

A pregnant pause overtook the room, blanketing it in an uncomfortable silence.

Bucky was truly speechless.

“I-- Doll, I never meant to make you feel like I love you less after Becca or anything like that. I just wanted to make things easier for you, and I didn’t want to touch your stomach because I didn’t know if it hurt or-” he cut himself off, his rambling coming to a pause.

“Oh, Bucky. If you wanted to know how I felt, you could’ve just asked! This is all about us working together. I know things are different with Becca now but you don’t have to feel like you have to do everything for me. I can still make dinner and do the laundry, Buck.” You explained, holding his cheeks in between the palms of your hands.

Bucky stared at you like you had three eyes.

“Angel, you pushed out a freakin’ super baby out of you. The least I can do is run to the store or do the dishes when you need me to. I want you to be comfortable at all times, I never want you to feel like you need anything.” Bucky’s hands flailed around, your hands still on his face, but your face was stretched with a wide grin.

And all you could do was laugh.

Bucky was really confused now.

“Bucky, baby, my love, my sunshine, my sweetest boy. Just because I had a baby doesn’t mean I’m helpless! And we had a baby, Bucky. I couldn’t have done any of it without you, and I’m forever grateful for you. I wouldn’t be able to do anything around here with Becca if it wasn’t for you helping me. We’re a team, babe.”

“I- I know, doll, I just... I’ve never done this before, and I’m so scared. I’m afraid I’m not gonna be a good enough father, I’m scared you’re gonna feel like I don’t love you anymore, if anything I love you more now. I just don’t wanna mess this up.” Bucky explained, trying to help you understand.

“Bucky, you’re already an amazing dad. Becca is like a mini you! She perks up at your voice, she always looks for you when you’re not in the same room, she can’t even sleep if you’re not there. You soothe her, she knows you. You’re her dad.” You tell him all these things you’ve noticed over the past months.

Bucky’s eyes were glossed over with unshed tears, trying to hold them in as he took in your words.

“Really?” Was all he could muster.

“Yeah, Bucky. She loves you so much, when you had your first mission after she was born she wouldn’t stop crying because she knew you weren’t there, and she wouldn’t stop crying. She’d only stop when I played that recording...” You tell him. “The one of you singing to her while she’s asleep on your chest, you know the one?” You ask, carding your fingers through his locks.

“I- yeah. I know the one. I was only gone for two days, are you serious?”

“Dead serious, you gave her some powerful lungs, babe.” You chuckled.

“Is it too soon to wake her up from her nap?” He asked, looking up at you from his spot in the crook of your neck.

“Yes,” you laughed, “speaking of, I’m going to the grocery store. You’re sitting here with the monitor, mister.” You said, pointing out the device on the kitchen counter with a smile.

As you keyed the door to your house back open with your bags from the grocery store, you see that Bucky was nowhere to be found in the living room where you left him.

You assumed that he would be in your room, maybe taking a quick shower, but what you found was all the more precious.

Bucky was laying with Becca on the floor, who was laying on her playing mat, staring up at her father.

“Y’know, Becs, I think you have the best momma, don’t you? Good thing you look just like her, wouldn’t want to look like a giant big man like me, huh?”

“Just saying, you might be giant, but you’re just a giant teddy bear,” you spoke up, startling your husband and causing your daughter to smile at you, “that’s why we both love to cuddle with you so much.” You say, coming to lay down next to Bucky where your daughter was squirming, looking for attention from you.

You tickled her stomach, making her giggle and look over to you with her big, blue shiny eyes.

"I mean, hey, I’ve never been opposed to a good cuddle with my girls.” Bucky answers with a wide grin. “C’mon, we have a huge bed and more than enough space for this little one.” Bucky says, getting up and taking your little girl with you, leading you to the only place you ever want to be, surrounded by your perfect little family.

And that night, Bucky held you tighter than ever as you both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

#bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x y/n #dad!bucky #dad!bucky x reader #husband!bucky #husband!bucky x reader

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the-volume-is-astronomical · 3 years

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The Crown, The Sword, and The Gay

The Tower

A/N: mi gente im just trying something out and seeing if people like it :] ive had this done for like months and months on end and i finally decided to share it so em enjoy

First | Previous| Next

words: 2380

summary: Roman’s stomach is making it very clear that this talk wasn’t going to end well... as long as he doesn’t end up in that tower.

pairings: eventual prinxiety, eventual intrulogical, eventual moceit

warnings: some potty language (not much), stress, anxiety, disappearance mention, flashback, crying

(let me know if theres any other)

Roman felt himself waking up, maybe because of the stupidly bright sun hitting his eyes, he didn’t know how that was possible since he remembered closing the red velvet curtains shut tight, so he didn't have this exact issue. So, when he heard some ruffling and things being moved around he wasn’t all that surprised.

¨Rise and shine, you little brat¨ Ruth said in a very tired but demanding voice.

¨Oh dear nurse, allow me five more minutes¨ Roman whined putting a pillow over his eyes so he could block out the rude sun.

¨Oh, flattery will get you nowhere, mister.¨ Roman could hear Ruth moving around the room, preparing breakfast no doubt. Roman took the pillow off his face and sat up, hair a wreck, and his eyes squinting because of the light coming from the window.

¨And he finally rises,¨ Ruth said sarcastically.

¨Yeah, yeah, the dashing prince has awoken.¨ Roman said half asleep. Ruth helped him sit down so he didn’t trip over anything and started serving him breakfast, she wasn’t going to wait for him to finish eating as she was already heading for the big oak doors.

¨Wait!¨ Roman sobered up, Ruth flinched a little at the shout but turned around anyway ¨Can I do anything for you?¨ She asked.

¨ Come eat with me, you for sure haven’t eaten anything today.¨ Ruth went to argue but closed her mouth when she noticed she, in fact, had not eaten.

She sat down in the chair in front of the royal, Roman made a few hand gestures as if to show she was open to take anything, she knew the monarch wouldn’t eat until she had settled for something so, she took a piece of bread and started eating, as did he.

After a few moments of silent eating Ruth spoke up ¨I still don't understand, after all these years you haven’t become a spoiled brat that doesn't care for his servant¨ Roman didn't even look up at her he just said ¨I guess you raised me well.¨ Ruth almost choked on her bread and looked at Roman as if he had gone insane. “Oh come on don't be so humble Ruthie!¨

She still looked at him confused and a little annoyed at the nickname but mostly surprised he would say anything of the sort, ¨Ruth, you are my nurse. You have been with me my entire life, You fed me when I was a baby for god sake! I consider you a mother, even if I have another mother in the throne room right now,” Roman shivered at the thought of having to talk to his parents after the events of the past week but continued anyway “and I sure as hell think of you as the person who raised me.¨

Once he had finished he immediately put a mouth full of food and kept eating as if hadn’t given that speech. Ruth still looked shocked but cleared her throat ¨Well, then I made you a sap!¨ Roman started laughing ¨How will your future spouse ever forgive me?¨ Roman burst out laughing and Ruth gave a small chuckle.

Ruth stood up and went to Roman's closet to gather his outfit for the day, while he finished breakfast. She threw the clothes at him “Hey!¨ Roman made his trademark over dramatic gasp. She sighed “I unfortunately also gave you my dramatics…”

“And I don’t resent you for that!” Roman screamed back with a big smile on his face.

Ruth looked like she had something on her mind. Roman didn’t have to wait much before she said what that was, he never did. ¨Would that make you and my Remy brothers?¨ she said, actively ignoring the prince’s comments. Roman stood up going towards his shoji screen to change behind. ¨Ha! We already consider each other brothers so it wouldn’t be much of a change.¨ Ruth started making his bed “Well this is new information to me.¨ Roman giggled a bit

¨Remy´s supposed to be back by noon, he passed a lot of territories to deliver this message so I sure hope he’s alright¨ Roman has always thought she was a worried mother even to him when he went on long trips.

Roman stepped out from behind the screen and reassured her ¨ He’s fine! He may act reckless but he's very calculating… but expect him a few hours later than what the estimated time of return” Roman slipped away looking for his shoes. ¨Oh and why is that?¨ she asked, hands on her hips, Roman gave a nervous chuckle.

Shouldn't have let that slip.

“Roman…” Ruth said in a warning tone. Remy was going to kill him but he didn’t want to die at his nurse’s hands “Remy’s been... seeing... this person a-and when his message trip aligns with where they live… he spends some time with the person so…” Ruth looked at him as if deciding something, “As Remy’s mother, I thank you for telling me the truth..” Roman was relieved “But, as your mother, I have to say…YOU SNITCH! Snitches get stitches for a reason!” Roman laughed genuinely and Ruth joined.

After their giggle fit, they heard someone knock on the door. Ruth went to answer the door, it was a guard “His and her highness request the prince’s presence,” Ruth thanked the guard and turned around and Roman looked mortified, “Roman, you have to talk to them.” Roman had never heard Ruth speak that soft. Roman only felt dread “Ruth I don't want to go” He was genuinely petrified.

“I understand, but they are very understanding and I believe they wouldn't punish you for simply trusting the wrong person” Roman shook his head “ They’re already so protective. They always had me under knight or guard surveillance but now they might do something so I won’t be able to sneak by” Roman was panicking and Ruth noticed, she walked up to him. And took his hand “Roman they just want the best for you…” Roman took his hand away from her own “No! They are just afraid they aren’t going to have an heir after one of them ran away.” Roman's hands were in his hair and his eyes started to glaze over.

Roman was very much not over his brother's apparent “disappearance”

“I understand Remus vanishing has affected your parents over protectiveness, BUT they have always aimed to protect you but after what happened...can you really blame them for it?” Roman sighed, Ruth forced his hands out of his hair, he took a shaky breath to calm down “No, but getting hurt is part of life! So what if I trusted the wrong person? Everyone does!” He gestured to the sky as if it was the only person listening, he felt so defeated.

“Well I can't change anything so, you should tell your parents that!” She didn’t know what to say to make things better. “I’ll try, let’s just hope they at least try to listen” he left it there and headed out of his bedroom’s oak doors, he never liked disagreeing with Ruth.

Roman walked down the long hallway towards the throne room but, of course, he wasn’t alone because that would be too much to ask apparently. Instead he was being escorted to see his parents by the guard that had informed him his parents required him. He already knew what they were going to talk to him about and he was dreading it.

Why did he have to make such a mistake?

Did the universe want him to not trust anyone after what happened?! If it would make the sinking feeling in his stomach leave then he would happily oblige.

The guard stopped at the throne rooms doors and Roman took a deep breath as the guard gave him side eye glance and opened the doors, “You required my presence?” Roman spoke trying to keep his voice steady and his head high, “Yes, Roman, we would actually like to talk to you about last week's event…?” He phrased it as a question a little too late. Roman’s father, King Leonardo, wasn’t an emotionally driven person and never was truly soft with anything he said, but he cared. The way he was soft spoken with Roman was just having the opposite effect that his father wanted.

Roman’s mother, Queen Victoria, was very comforting and always tried to shield her children from harm's way, but coming from a family of royals, she didn't have an example to follow but she wanted to be there for her child. “Roman, my little lion heart, I need you to keep in mind this is for your safety...ok?” Following everything by the book, always looking and being her best, so she would be a good example even if she wasn't nurturing, all she wished was for Roman to know she loved him and Remus with her whole being, Roman just gave her a tense nod as a response.

Roman’s Father spoke up, “Roman, you're going to be under knight supervision at all times,” That wasn't as bad as Roman expected, he basically already was! Anything but to be stuck in that damn tower “...And you have to stay in the south tower-” ...He should have knocked on wood.

“Father, I did nothing wrong! I shouldn't be punished for this-” Romans mother spoke up, she knew both her son and husband could be hot headed. She wanted to stop anything before it got the chance to begin “Roman this isn't to punish you! We want to protect you-” The Queen sounded like she was pleading with her son.

Roman did not hear her plea or just ignored it “...For how long do I have to stay there?” Roman’s mother spoke up, “Don't worry, you'll be there maximum 2-”

“Indefinitely.”

The King spoke in a cold unforgiving tone, Roman knew he had messed up big time. Victoria turned to her husband “Leo, we agreed he wouldn't be there for more than 2 fortnights, we agreed on that.” The Queen seemed upset but was obviously attempting not to show such emotion.

“Those were the rules we agreed to when he was a child and he would grant being punished” Both of Roman’s parents were staring at each other, showing they weren't going to back down.

Roman spoke, “Understood.” His voice was mostly monotone but tight, Victoria turned to him with an apologetic gaze. Roman shook his head. It was his own fault, his mother shouldn't blame herself for his actions.

“I'll tell Ruth, so we can pack.” Roman turned to leave but his father had more to say. “Before you go, Hugo won't be your assigned knight. One of the new recruits is climbing in status and popularity very quickly and he agreed to-” “babysit” Roman cut in. “-protect you. As long as I recommended him to Queen Marie for her armada”

As if things couldn't get any better, he had to meet this new recruit, he hoped they would at least get along. Roman just nodded and opened the door to leave. At that moment, Roman’s father called the guard that had escorted Roman to get the new recruit as soon as possible, he just left as quickly as he could.

His parents knew that not being around people and not being able to talk were some of the worse things that could happen to him. They decided it was going to be the way to punish him. Though, he never stayed for more than a month, now he understood why.

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As Roman- basically power walked- back to his room, his brain tortured him with memories of his 7 year old self being forced onto the tower for the first time.

No! Please it was an accident-!

I won't do it again!

I won't- Please!

That was all he said as his father signaled the guards to take him, his mother not being able to look, turned her head away, trying to ignore every motherly instinct in her body to stand up and comfort her child.

The guards dragged him out of the castle- the only home he knew- and shoved him in a carriage, where Ruth was waiting for him. Ruth had always been happy around him but her expression was unreadable -looking back she seemed angry, he just hadn't seen her that way before- but, Roman didn't care. He threw himself onto Ruth and sobbed his tiny heart out, Ruth trying her best to calm him down, he eventually fell asleep. Three hours later, he was woken up by Ruth.

“Were here, principito”

Roman was scared. Ruth saw it in his eyes.

“Come on! You offend me, you really think I would let them take you to a scary place?”

The little royal could only muster a small “no”. Ruth took his hand and walked with him toward a tower. Roman thought it was beautiful, that's the day he figured beautiful things can hurt you.

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Roman never got used to it. He always dreaded the ride there, all the build up to the feeling of nothingness. When he looked up at the tower, he got the same feeling that he did when he was 7, Roman learned to not look up. He’d always prefer being in the tower when he was a kid because, back then they allowed Ruth to stay behind with him. Now she would only go in the carriage with him and leave.

After they stopped allowing Ruth to stay with him, at least he had Hugo to bother, by asking him for stories of his adventures. He didn't have that anymore.

The only adventure story he had now was a vibrant red book, in the book shelf of the tower, the only fictional book in his whole collection. He will admit, it was a very smart move on his parent’s part. They always monitored what he read, filled his whole book shelf in the tower with Philosophy, Math, and Royalty etiquette. When he begged for weeks on end for an adventure book they granted him one but, they made sure it was the only book that was fictional. They wouldn't give him an adventure book based on real events, No! That would be giving Roman too much hope.

Good move.

#roman sanders #roman angst #sanders sides roman #ts roman #prinxiety #ts prinxiety #future prinxiety #sanders sides #ts princey

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blueskrugs · 4 years

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Four Times Fate Brought You to Vince Dunn, and One Time You Found Him on Purpose

I wrote this simultaneously with another Vince 4+1 (coming tomorrow, hopefully!) and yelled to @captainpetty and Erin about them constantly. Sorry guys.

length: 3k words

An Accident You met Vince Dunn for the first time in an emergency room in St. Louis. Normally you worked the pediatric floor, and not on the night shift, but sometimes you floated to the general emergency room for an extra shift because, well, money is money.

You liked pediatrics because dealing with kids was far easier than adults, in your opinion, even when parents could sometimes be just as difficult as a screaming toddler. But at least screaming toddlers could be calmed down with the promise of a sticker or a lollipop.

“Hey, can you pick up the new guy that just came in?” one of the other nurses asked as she breezed past you to handle one of her patients. “I think they said something about him being important around here.”

“Being important” meant that, when you pulled the curtain back to face your newest patient, you came face-to-face with a very drunk Vince Dunn and a significantly less drunk Colton Parayko. You simply raised an eyebrow and moved over to the computer to start charting.

“I’m not really sure I want to know what happened here, but I think I have to ask,” you said, trying to ignore the fact that you were pretty sure Vince was whispering to Colton about you.

“Is there any way, like, our training staff-”

“And Petro!”

“God, yeah, and Petro, won’t find out about this? Because I wasn’t supposed to let anything happen to him, and we have a game tomorrow,” Colton finished.

That really didn’t answer your question, and you weren’t sure how anything that brought the two of them into an ER after midnight was going to be easily hidden for a game the next night. You turned then, properly looked at the boys, took in Vince sitting on the bed with his feet swinging above the ground like a child. His shirt was a little wet with what was probably beer, and, when you looked closer, blood. His left hand was wrapped in a bar rag–that you really hoped had been clean when they got it–that was definitely blood-stained.

Colton explained to you, as you started an IV in Vince’s right arm and cleaned the gash in his palm that would definitely need stitches, that they had gone out in spite of their captain telling them it was a bad idea. Vince had had one beer too many and had ended up on a table, then fell off the table, catching his fall on someone’s pint of beer. By the way Vince winced when you moved his hand around to clean it, you were pretty sure his wrist sprained, too.

You hovered a bit as one of the ER doctors came in and checked out Vince’s hand and wrist. Vince was quiet, but you could feel him watching you as you fidgeted around the small room. By the time everything was ready for him to be sent home, he was definitely more sober himself, but that also meant he was lucid enough to be embarrassed about how he ended up in the ER. You watched as Colton led him out of the ER and to a waiting Uber, and you wondered just how the hell they were planning on hiding his hand from everyone the next day.

At a Bar The second time you met Vince Dunn was, somewhat ironically, in a bar. You had seen him as soon as you walked in, laughing with some of his teammates in the corner, but you diligently ignored him as you headed to the bar with your friend to get a drink. Why would he remember some random ER nurse from over a month ago, when he had been drunk? You shook your head, determined to ignore the loud hockey boys in the corner and have a good night yourself.

You had been at the bar almost an hour and had done a pretty good job of ignoring and avoiding the hockey players in the corner. You headed over to the bar for a second drink, when you felt a hand press against your lower back. You tensed, twisting around as much as you could in the crowded bar to see who was behind you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Vince said, but he didn’t move his hand. He raised his left hand to get the attention of the bartender, and you saw the flash of a still-healing scar on his palm, pink even in the dim light of the bar. “You were that nurse from the ER, yeah? I never thanked you for taking care of my drunk ass that night.” He smiled, then, wide and genuine, hand still warm against the small of your back, and you relaxed a little bit.

You were surprised that he recognized you. You’d heard stories of the younger players on the Blues wheeling multiple girls at once; you vaguely wondered how they kept track of them, much less a nobody nurse he’d met once.

You didn’t say that, though, just smiled back at him as the bartender slid two beers in front of you. You reached into your pocket to pay but Vince grabbed your wrist.

“Nah, this one’s on me. Said I had to thank you, didn’t I?” he told you. You tried not to think about how green his eyes were up close.

You shook yourself again; you didn’t need this. You didn’t need this. Besides, how many more times could you run into Vince Dunn?

In Enemy Territory It was in Pittsburgh, of all places, when you saw Vince Dunn again. One of your brothers had moved out there for work, and you were visiting him for a week, helping out with babysitting his kids, hanging with your sister-in-law. You hadn’t even thought to check the Blues’ schedule; you had no idea they were on a road trip to play the Penguins.

You were standing in line at a Starbucks, your two-year-old nephew balanced on your hip, your sister-in-law still outside with the other kids. You heard the door open behind you, and a loud group came in, but now you were focused on ordering before the toddler you were carrying decided he got bored and threw a tantrum. You were struggling to reach your card one handed when someone else reached past you.

“Add it to ours,” the voice belonging to the arm said. You spun, only to see Colton Parayko looking down at you with a smile. You looked over his shoulder to see several of his teammates shoving each other playfully in line. That would explain the loud group you’d heard come in. Colton was introducing himself to the two year old you were carrying, but you were still watching his teammates. Vince caught your eye from where he was trying to put Jordan Kyrou in a headlock and grinned, immediately letting go of Rouzy. You smiled back, a little caught off guard.

You stepped to the side as you waited. Before long, you were joined by Vince, both of you trying to ignore the catcalls from his other teammates.

“And who’s this little guy?” Vince cooed, actually ignoring you aside from a quick smile. You raised an eyebrow a little bit at his baby-voice.

Your nephew tucked his face into your neck, suddenly shy. “Oh, come on now,” you said to him. “This is Jake, he’s my brother’s youngest,” you explained to Vince. Vince continued to talk to your nephew in that same high, gentle voice, until he was giggling and chattering right back. The barista called your name, and Jake picked that moment to decide he was done being patient and started fussing, very close to crying and screaming. You couldn’t balance two drinks and two sandwiches as well as a fidgeting toddler, and you groaned.

“Here give him to me,” Vince said, reaching out to take him before you could protest. Jake settled immediately, and you glared at him a little. You could hear Vince talking to him more as you scrambled to pick up all of your order. He followed you outside, and you ignored the interested stares of the rest of the guys.

He continued to hold Jake as you handed off your sister-in-law’s half of the order, stood there to chat with her and the other kids, long after Sammy came out with Vince’s drink. He used the same voice he had used to befriend Jake on the other two kids, but he talked and laughed with you and Sarah in the next breath, even teasing her for the Pens shirt she was wearing.

You were doing your best not to think about how that voice was making you melt every time he used it. His teammates eventually dragged him away to get back to the hotel before the game, but not before Vince talked you into exchanging phone numbers.

You tried telling yourself that you were never going to use it.

In a Grocery Store You were pretty sure the universe was laughing at you at this point. Your mom had invited herself over for dinner, and you had nothing in your apartment to cook. Which meant you rushed to a grocery store on your lunch break, and you ended up at a different one than you usually went to because it was closer to work.

Why couldn’t all grocery stores be laid out the same? You were trying very hard to make it look like you weren’t turning in circles as you tried to find everything you were looking for when your phone buzzed. You pulled it out with a huff, fully expecting it to your mom again, but instead the name on your screen read, “Vince Dunn.”

You paused. It had been nearly another month since Pittsburgh, and neither one of you had texted the other one. You were (mostly) perfectly content with leaving it that way, but clearly Vince had other ideas. The screen had gone dark, but it lit up again, reminding you it was there. You read the text, the simple words “you look a little lost.” With that you spun around, and, sure enough, Vince was standing a couple feet behind you, leaning against a shelf with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t have time for this,” you said, turning back around and starting to push your cart in a direction that hopefully ended in pasta.

“Hey, wait,” Vince said, taking a couple annoyingly long steps to catch up to you and put a hand on your cart to stop you. “Lemme help. It’ll be faster. I’ve been watching you walk in circles for like ten minutes.” You blushed as he smirked again, but his eyes were soft.

You wanted so badly to just push past Vince, forget you had ever met him, and then met him again and again, delete his number from your phone, but you also knew he was right; he would probably get you out of this damned grocery store a lot faster than you could probably manage on your own, and maybe you really wanted to spend a little time with him, too.

So you sighed, handed Vince the list you had scribbled on the back of a gas receipt, and let him lead you around the grocery store. He let you rant about your mom, and then about work, only pausing to offer opinions on the food he was putting in your cart. After a while, you realized you had actually managed to get everything on your list, but now Vince was wandering aimlessly around the store, sneaking junk food into your cart. You raised an eyebrow as you watched him slip a package of cookie mix behind the box of pasta. He looked up at you as you leaned on the cart handle, sheepish now that he’d been caught.

“What?I like snickerdoodles,” he said in defense.

You shook your head and pulled the package out of the cart. “I can make better snickerdoodles from scratch, dude.” You looked closer at everything in your cart. “And I don’t like jalapeno Cheetos,” you said, throwing the bag at Vince.

“Is that a promise on the snickerdoodles?” Of course he focused on that.

“I don’t know, maybe. Now go put the damn Cheetos back.”

Vince laughed. You willed yourself to focus on getting out of the store and home to cook dinner, not just kissing Vince in the middle of the baking aisle.

“Don’t knock ‘em until you try ‘em. Thommer’s gotten the whole team addicted at this point,” Vince told you over his shoulder as he went to put the Cheetos back from wherever he found them. You turned around and headed back in what you thought was the direction of checkout. Vince found you again as you stood in line. You had honestly thought the whole Cheetos thing would be the end of this interaction with him, but apparently not.

“Don’t you have your own grocery shopping to do?” you asked, realizing just how much time Vince had spent with you in the store. “Instead of helping some random girl?” you added, allowing the insecurity you were suddenly feeling slip into your voice.

Vince started putting your groceries on the conveyor belt. “Nah, Sammy just wanted some snacks, and he can wait.”

You let Vince load the rest of your stuff onto the belt, you didn’t let him pay–though he fought you on that one for several minutes–and you let him walk with you to your car and put all of your groceries in the trunk.

You were halfway home before you thought to wonder if he actually went back and got snacks for Sammy.

At a Hockey Game When your best friend texted you and asked if you wanted to go to a Blues game with her, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. You had grown up a hockey fan, had found Hannah in high school, and there you two were, years later, still yelling about the Blues over texts and phone calls and in person. Your eagerness had absolutely nothing to do with Vince Dunn.

You also didn’t hesitate to snap a picture of your ticket and send it to Vince after Hannah handed it to you. You didn’t really think he’d see it so close to puck drop, but you still regretted it as soon as the tiny little “sent” appeared underneath the picture.

The game was exciting, and the Blues won, which helped distract you from the anxiety you were feeling over Vince. Mostly. Until he scored a goal, and his eyes swept the sea of blue in Enterprise Center, and, for a split second, you let yourself think he was looking for you.

Until after the game, when you and Hannah were getting up to leave, and an usher appeared next to you, saying your name and telling you to follow her. Getting down below the arena was a blur of people and security, being given neon wristbands and convincing people that, “Yes, I was invited down here by a player, I belong down here,” even if you didn’t really believe that second part was true.

You both hovered awkwardly in the doorway to the room where all of the WAGs and kids were waiting, and suddenly you regretted wearing your Parayko jersey just a little bit. You were thankful to have your friend next to you, though, and you explained the whole grocery store thing to her while you waited. You were starting to debate leaving, telling everyone that, yeah, actually, letting you down into the tunnels was a mistake, that you have no business being there, when you’re wrapped up in a hug suddenly, and there’s Vince, freshly-showered and back in his suit– and this is new, but it’s nice and you let yourself relax into the hug.

Vince pulled back, and he was smiling at you and introducing himself to Hannah, and Colton was standing behind him with a matching smile. You remembered the 55 sprawled across your back, and you knew Colton saw it, but then he was wrapping his arm around your shoulder and didn’t say anything about it.

You weren’t so lucky with Vince. “I’ve gotta get you a new jersey,” he said. You just rolled your eyes and shrugged.

“I’ll sign that one for you,” Colton whispered.

Vince and Colton started arguing over that, and you were starting to think that this is something you could get used to, since this was apparently your new normal, when Alex Pietrangelo comes over to your little group, and you were reminded a little just how not normal this was for you.

“Is this the nurse Dunner won’t shut up about?” Petro asked Colton, who nodded over your head. “You really freaked him out when you texted him before the game,” Petro was talking again, this time to you. “We thought he was gonna go out into the stands to find you himself.”

You laughed, more at the bright blush that was spreading over Vince’s cheeks. “What happened to ‘Petro can’t find out about this?’” you asked.

“That went out the window pretty fast,” Colton told you.

“And I don’t know how you ever thought you could hide eight stitches in your hand and a sprained wrist from me,” Petro added.

“You should have heard him after we saw you in Pittsburgh. He kept looking for you at the game that night, too.”

You smiled up at Vince, who was blushing all the way up his ears now, but he just wrapped his arm around your shoulders and buried his face in your hair. Yeah, you could definitely get used to that. You elbowed him in the ribs a little bit, but his arm just tightened around your shoulders.

He and Colton walked you and Hannah back to your car outside the arena, Colton chirping Vince relentlessly the whole way.

Vince grabbed your hand before you could get in your car. “I’ll text you, yeah?” He looked unsure, which was probably the first time you’d ever seen him nervous around you. “Sammy won’t stop asking me when you’re baking us cookies.”

“I don’t remember saying anything about baking Sammy Blais cookies,” you laughed. “Text me when your next day off is, and we’ll see about those cookies.” And then, because apparently you couldn’t stop doing impulsive things tonight, you pushed up on your toes to kiss Vince on the cheek before climbing into the car.

Your phone vibrated in your cupholder less than five minutes later, and you knew without checking that it was Vince.

#cait writes things #vince dunn #vince dunn fic #vince dunn imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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xiaomomowrites · 3 years

Text

act IV

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole tangent about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

Or, Zhongli and Childe finally have the conversation that was long overdue.

A/N: I’ve been playing genshin for roughly four or five months now, I can’t remember exactly when I started, but boy do I love it. No you don’t understand, I’m obsessed. But these two have been taking up room in my big brain, so I wanted to write for them. It’s been awhile since I wrote for pleasure so hopefully this is satisfactory :,) and tomorrow, I’m back to school, so I thought I’d enjoy my last day of freedom and post this today. Fun fact, I’m minoring in professional writing, so I’m hoping that it’ll improve my writing skills when I write for luxury, too. Anyway, this was a really fun piece for me to write and I hope you share the sentiment.

Also thank you guys for being so patient with our inactivity and just being such a chill audience to write for. Other social media platforms have become so...demanding haha. I appreciate y’all! Feel free to message us or talk to us about whatever :) -u.n.

Find this on AO3!

Spoiler alert: this fic does contain spoilers for the A New Star Approaches arc, so read at your own risk.

—

In Childe’s line of work, he is no stranger to betrayal.

Working as a Fatui Harbinger meant an unhealthy amount of fighting, betraying one person, deceiving another, and then on occasion, getting betrayed himself. It was all in a days’ work. Childe knew he would just have to roll out his neck and move on. He’s done it before, he can do it again. He would think that, after nineteen years of this grueling rinse and repeat, that he’d be able to tolerate a lot in the field. In fact, working with that wretched colleague of his, Scaramouche, and serving the Tsaritsa with a loyalty unmatched explicitly calls for the patience and tolerance of a saint.

Alas, Childe is the furthest thing from a saint. And still, Zhongli’s betrayal stung the most out of anyone else’s, the reason still unbeknownst to him. He tells himself that it’s because he had actually befriended the other man. That, unlike his other missions, he developed more of a friendship with Zhongli than he has with anyone else in the past. Not to mention how he really thought he’d find the gnosis, in all its golden glory, seated deep within the Exuvia, and not within his friend.

Which is why after he watches Zhongli hand over his precious gnosis to Signora of all people, Childe makes haste to return to the inn he had been staying at to furiously pack his things and leave first thing in the morning. Seeing Signora in Liyue so close to Zhongli had triggered a deep seated feeling of possessiveness over him and the city. Liyue was his territory, as far as he was concerned. It was assigned to him by the Tsaritsa and no one else. And yet, despite his unspoken possession over Liyue, its people turned against him and viewed him as the enemy. As if Childe didn’t already know that. As if he hadn’t already grown up with a layered villain complex, subconsciously looking for a fool with a hero complex to match him. Then entered Zhongli, making himself at home in Childe’s life, and he was immediately enamouring the Harbinger.

Screw Liyue.

Screw all their traditions, the stupid glaze lilies, the delicious cuisine, the obvious livelihood that fills the streets in stark contrast to his own icy hometown, screw all those goddamn unnecessary mountains, that fish market with that abhorrent smell he gradually got used to, and screw Rex Lapis. Screw Zhongli, that handsome bastard, for stringing him along like his plaything the entire time.

Childe knows, he gets it, that Zhongli simply did what he had to do because it was best for his people. And what other way for the oldest of the seven to go, if not for a grand finale? And yes, Childe admits, luring out Osial was a stupid move, but it certainly served its purpose for testing the strength of Liyue and its defenders.

Zhongli and Signora knew he would do something stupid and reckless as soon as he caught wind of the Exuvia serving as a decoy. They knew, and they played the game so well, that Childe really thought he was the mastermind puppeteering the whole show.

What a fool he was made out to be.

Childe aggressively shoves blazer after blazer into his travel duffel, angry, pathetic tears pooling at the corners of his eyes without his consent. He sniffs angrily and swipes at his cheek as soon as the first tear falls.

Fuck this, he’s not crying over a god, he still has some dignity.

But still. Pride aside, it hurt. And it wasn’t even necessarily the deceit that hurt the most. He’s dealt with that previously. It was… more personal. More of an internal struggle than an external issue. Childe truly hates those the most. At least he can shove his fist through any external problem, but he can’t exactly do the same with his feelings, or whatever they’re called.

It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole spiel about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

The same eyes that gazed at him with such affection and kindness were suddenly replaced with the eyes of a soldier. And it was only then that Childe fully realized the force he was reckoning with. Zhongli was a withered god who lived too long for his own good. A powerful deity that held the ability to shake the ground with a look; he who had been humbled by time and his sharp edges eroded by the millions of faces that passed him. Simply put, Childe was just another one of those faces. And again, he understood. If he lived for six thousand years, he wouldn’t want to be alive after the first hundred.

It was the duality that dug the blade deeper into his already bleeding chest. He felt used.

“I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, Childe,” Zhongli had said to him on a warm Liyuen night, “a friend of mine, a long time ago, told me that I was… bad at connecting with people. Emotionally stunted, is what she called me. And she is correct, as I have definitely struggled with making connections in the past. But with you… it’s different. It’s easy.

Childe is thankful for the discretion that night provides him; Zhongli would have easily spotted the blush spreading across his pale cheeks had it been daytime.

“So you had trouble making a couple friends, so what?” The ginger shrugs, “I wasn’t the best at making friends, either. My mom always said I was too aggressive. Apparently that’s not such an appealing trait, after all.”

Zhongli chuckles, a beautiful sound. “It was a bit deeper than that, I’m afraid. Understanding the complexity of another’s emotions was always difficult for me, whereas she… she was loved by everyone. Adored by the youngest of fawns to the oldest of horses. It came so naturally to her. I was the opposite. Not that everyone hated me, no, people just had a harder time getting close to me. Which is why, upon meeting you, I was shocked to find that we clicked so well. Befriending you was as easy as breathing air.”

Oh, Archons, help him.

“And,” Zhongli continues, as if he hadn’t already wrecked the man six ways to hell and back, “I must sincerely thank you for indulging me once again.” The deity glances down at the bag full of antique trinkets in his lap. Childe’s lips turn upward into one of his more genuine, rare smiles.

“What’s with you tonight?” Childe responds, and Zhongli looks at him questioningly , “I mean, you never had a problem with me spoiling you rotten before. You’ve never even acknowledged it. Why start now?”

Zhongli tears his gaze away from the Harbinger.

“And,” the ginger continues, “it almost sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”

Zhongli smiles at him then. He wore a kind look on his face, eyes so impossibly warm that it reminded him of his grandmother’s pirozhki. Hot and steaming from the center, melting on his tongue, dissolving deliciously in his mouth and defrosting his entire body. His smile felt like it wrapped itself around his chest and squeezed the best way possible, fitting him back together in places Childe didn’t even realize he had broken.

“What makes you say that?”

Oh, Childe is pissed.

Fuck tomorrow morning, Childe is leaving tonight.

The memories of last night crash over him not unlike a tidal wave and suddenly, he’s drowning. Filled out the brim with a familiar rage burning through his chest and searing his finger tips, his legs, his fucking toes.

He stands abruptly when he realizes he’s been sitting and resumes his packing. It doesn’t take very long after that. A couple toiletries get shoved into the side pockets, his vision is hooked back onto his hip, and his mask is slid into its’ usual spot on his head. He looks at himself in the mirror on the way out and scowls at the way his hair looks more disheveled than usual. Red rims his dulled blue eyes, forcing him to accept that maybe he cried more than he’d like to admit. Whatever.

He swings the door open and-

“Childe,” lo and behold, Zhongli stands in his fucking doorway, “I’d like to talk to you, if that’s alright.” The man looks slightly disheveled. He’s a little out of breath, Childe notices, like he ran up those ridiculous flights of stairs to get to his room- which, by the way, he never disclosed that information with him.

The man in question huffs a laugh. “It’s not.”

He makes a move to brush past him, but is stopped by an unreasonably strong grip around his bicep.

“Tartaglia,” he pleads, “please.”

Childe snatches his arm back and spits, “don’t call me that.”

He retreats back into his room anyway, hearing Zhongli close the door behind him. He dumps the bag back onto his bed and curses himself for not leaving a millisecond earlier.

“You’re angry with me.” Zhongli starts, face as unreadable as ever.

“The sky is blue. Snezhnaya is cold. Are we still stating the obvious here?” He’s too angry to carefully choose his words. Too hurt to slip on his pleasant facade.

“Tartaglia,” he presses, and Childe really hates how his name sounds on his tongue, “I truly am sorry for the way things had to go. It was not in my intentions to… hurt you to the degree in which you feel. I simply was upholding the end of my contract and doing what was best for my people. I implore you to believe that making you feel used was not my main objective.“

Oh god, his apology sounds so robotic.

“So you’re aware that what you did was a little fucked up.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re aware that almost the entirety of Liyue places the blame on me.”

“Yes.”

Well, shit. “Good talk, Zhongli-xiansheng. If you’ll excuse me, I must begin my trip home.”

He stomps toward the door only to be stopped once again. Archons, if Childe had any motivation left, he most certainly would challenge him to a spar. The ginger huffs, and looks to the heavens in a silent plea for patience.

“Tartaglia, please, I’m not finished-“

“Yeah, well I am.” Their eyes lock. Blue meets gold in a hostile hold, refusing to break. “The second you handed your gnosis over, my business here was done. Whatever… relationship we had is done. You were my consultant and was a Harbinger here for business. A Harbinger that you obviously used for your disposal. So now that that’s over and done with, I really need to report to Tsaritsa, lest she have my head on a silver platter-“

“I spoke with Tsaritsa already.” Zhongli cuts in, his grip tightening around Childe’s wrist. “I asked her for more time with you.”

“You what.”

“Surely you are curious about the deal I struck with Tsaritsa. The contract to end all contracts, yes?” Childe’s wild look on his face eggs him to continue, “I struck a deal that granted you more time here in Liyue. With me.”

Childe is silent for a moment. The ex-Archon opens his mouth to continue.

“And I’d like to say I’ve known you long enough to know that you seek freedom. From what that may be, I do not know. But Tsaritsa has agreed to give you a choice, at the very least, a temporary one. An extended vacation or complete retirement is a choice to be made by you.” Zhongli finishes, looking to Tartaglia with hope.

“THAT is worth your fucking gnosis?!” Zhongli’s gnosis. The entire essence of his being. The very thing that makes him divine (thought it certainly isn’t the only thing that makes the man ethereal), was traded for him.

“Yes,” Zhongli replies with such ease it makes Childe’s head spin. “Among other things, of course.” An aggressive why is lodged in the back of Childe’s throat. Why me? A million questions swirl around his head, knocking him off balance. He would have swayed on his feet had Zhongli not been there to hold him upright.

“That’s insane. You’re insane. You…” Childe lets out a tired sigh, “I don’t understand you.” And he doesn’t. Because one minute he’s a cold hearted businessman, and the next he’s at his door, reduced to a mortal, begging him to stay. Granting him freedom. Really, what kind of fucked up game is this? Why didn’t anyone tell him he was a part of it?

Zhongli smiles. He smiles. “You remember our conversation from the night before, yes?”

Childe rolls his ever-blue eyes to the back of his head. “Remind me, Zhongli-sensei,”

“I said,” the deity starts, drawing both of Childe’s calloused hands between his own, “that I struggled to connect with others. Guizhong, the Goddess of Dust, was the one to bring to my attention my emotional constipation. And like I said, she was correct.”

Childe’s anger withers.

“Unfortunately I understand naught of the depth of your feelings of betrayal,” he continues, “but I do wish to understand how deeply humans feel. And in our time together, I’ve begun to understand through you. Despite your… complexities. And I wish to continue to learn. With you.” I wish to feel human is left unsaid, and laced between his words instead.

“What are you saying,” the Harbinger asks weakly.

“Take me with you.”

“What.”

“Take me with you. Wherever you go, I will follow, if you will allow it.”

Well duh, he’d allow it. Zhongli just had to work for it a little more. He can’t just waltz in here after breaking his heart and ruining his trust, demanding his friendship and companionship or whatever, after everything he was put through-

“Okay.”

Very nice ass to mouth filter, Ajax.

Zhongli’s eyes glow impossibly brighter, “Okay?”

Childe tugs his hands back to his side. “Yes, yes, fine. Whatever. But you can’t just. You can’t just use me again in the name of experimentation.”

“Tartaglia, I would never,” he assures him vehemently, “Of the seven, I was always the one most oblivious to emotions. You may ask Barbatos if you want. But I know that what I feel for you is real and I would not trade it for the world.”

Childe’s mind reels. Barbatos? Feelings?

“‘What you feel for me?’”

Zhongli cocks his head in confusion, as if his feelings were the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, yes. And you feel the same, no? It need not be said aloud.”

“It really doesn’t,” Childe affirms, “you can save me the embarrassment.”

“Wonderful,” Zhongli’s face brightens, and it’s only then that Childe is hit with the full realization that Zhongli is free. No longer is he tied to the city and burdened with the weight of the people. No longer does he have to associate himself with the likes of the Tsaritsa. Finally, after centuries and centuries, he is allowed the pleasure to smile so brightly despite feeling pained for finally leaving his people. He is Zhongli, and no longer Rex Lapis. Morax is long gone, too. The man before him is a man reborn, and Childe’s heart aches with happiness for him.

“Okay, well,” he clears his throat when he notices he’s been quiet for too long, “it’s been a long day and I’m tired. I think I’m just gonna take a shower and turn into bed and think about the rest tomorrow. Save it for future Childe, you know?”

He pads over to his hastily packed back and zips it back open, pulling out the toiletries he aggressively shoved in less than an hour ago. He digs his fingers into his neck and sighs at the release of tension. Summoning an angry ocean god took a lot more out of him than he anticipated.

“I agree,” Zhongli says, and begins to strip. “Personally I prefer the left side of the bed.”

Childe gawks at him.

“You-!” Truly an emotionally constipated god, indeed. He sighs and his shoulders droop, the fight leaving his body. “Fine. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“I eagerly await your return,” Zhongli comments passively as he slips under the covers, a book he didn’t even know he was carrying tucked under his arm. Childe sighs for the nth time that night and turns to close the bathroom door behind him.

Future Childe certainly has a lot to deal with in the morning.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fan fiction #Tartaglia #Childe #zhongli #tartali #zhongchi #i love them so much it hurts #childe x zhongli #angst #character introspection #when this chapter ended i was incredibly emotional #i just want them to be happy

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mementomori-demimonde · 3 years

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Hidden Scars

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI.1 / XI.2 XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII

Chapter 19

Draped over her knees with your arms bent under your head as a pillow, you genuinely wish the reason for that position would be another entirely.

Not that you’d thought you were the type of person to like impact play before meeting Miranda, but a lot changed since she decided to kidnap you and turn your life upside down: you didn’t think you had so much strength in you, you didn’t think you were too smart with electronics and computer softwares, you didn’t think you weren’t made to fight, you didn’t think you would fall in love with a psychotic killer who liked to push your limits, teach you things, even how to fight, who fucked you and let you fuck her… and there you were, enjoying all those things because Miranda was there.

You’re trying to imagine that this is one of her weird scenarios back in her bedroom, roleplaying god-knows-what, putting a little fun in the punishments she oughta give you for not doing something right. Yet, this is not a game. You won’t enjoy any of this and you know it already.

The pain is excruciating already as it is and it’s only about to get worse.

She tried to be incredibly gentle when she removed the tatters of the shirt you were wearing from your back, but that too sent your skin burning aflame, the welts screaming and making you tear up.

The cool air did little good on your bare skin, the gentle scrape at the base of your neck as Miranda helped you lay across her thighs, close to her lap only a sad consolation. She praised you, but you just hiccupped through a sob and stood silent.

You wish you could reassure her, tell her to not feel guilty because what else could she do there, if not obeying? It was that or bullets in your brains.

At least wounds could heal, and you’re not new to wounds either. You can do it. You can bear anything, she’s made you strong, but you can’t bring yourself to speak to her: there are too many thoughts in your mind.

Victor’s words, for instance.

You know it’s only a bunch of lies, but there’s something telling you that it’s not just a bunch of lies.

Victor is an asshole and he likes to tease and to provoke and you bet he’s only said those things to get a rise from Miranda and awaken something within you that could possibly turn you against her, in the end.

Improbable, but not impossible. There’s still too much to uncover.

You swallow down, fidgeting as you try to find the most comfortable position, but already aware that nothing will lessen your discomfort.

Hidden from your eyes, Miranda unfolds the foil that she’s stuck in the wall a few days ago. She opens up a new bottle and drinks from it - you can hear her swallow in long, rhythmical gulps - the foil rustles in her hand for a moment, then she caps the bottle again and shakes it vigorously.

Your first reaction is to grow tense, you can’t even help it.

“It’s going to sting.” Miranda warns with a low, apologetic voice.

You’d tell her that it’s not her fault, except that it is, in a certain sense. Besides, you can’t bring yourself to actually talk, already so invested with bracing yourself for pain.

Water and salt: she’s going to clean the welts on your back to the best of her possibilities. It won’t be pleasant at all. “Try not to fight it, it’ll only be worse.” She suggests. You don’t really know if you’ll be able to do it.

When she starts to pour, it hurts like hell. She tuts at you, shushes you when the clatter of your teeth becomes louder, but it doesn’t help the searing pain that radiates in your body.

“I’ll kill him,” Miranda mumbles behind clenched teeth, “I’ll fucking run him over with a car and kill him.” She says.

It’s nice to know that she’s unhinged toward Victor because of you, that she would kill him for you, but somehow, it’s not enough to distract you from the pain. It’s the only disinfectant you have access to, it’s supposed to burn, but there’s something terribly wrong in the way it steals your breath away.

You feel like dying, and, at some point, you know you’re unconsciously wiggling, thrashing your limbs in the grasp of a maddening pain, caused by something that it’s supposed to help but that seems only to make things worse. You feel your skin tearing, the salty water seeping inside, overwhelming your body - it’s too much.

You’ve been through a lot in the past few months, and yet, somehow, nothing was as bad as this. Maybe it’s the situation, maybe it’s the fear, maybe it’s the realization that something terrible has happened that involves the person you’ve grown to love, but you can’t bear it.

You let go. You allow yourself to cry. For the pain, and also for something else.

Maybe you’ve passed out. You clearly don’t remember falling asleep, honestly, how could you have fallen asleep?

You’re still draped over her legs, you feel one of her hands carding mindlessly through your hair and on the nape of your hair.

Miranda seems to notice the change in your breathing, or maybe you’ve just moved unconsciously, but your body falls limp over hers, every muscle turned to liquid under her hand and soothing murmurs.

To her eyes, you even might look relaxed. In reality, you don’t have enough strength to push yourself up and put some distance between the two of you.

“It’s done.” She says, pressing her fingertips between your shoulder blades, the other on your tailbone as if to keep you still. “Don’t move yet, the rash is fading, but the welts look rather sore.”

You’re barely listening to her.

You don’t feel exactly fine, but better, besides, it’s not your back that hurts most, but your head. The thoughts swirling in there are screaming louder than anything else.

You don’t care about the welts, you don’t care about the rash nor the soreness. You don’t even care about Victor for putting you in this situation. You don’t care about Victor for putting Miranda in that situation. You care about him because he put those thoughts in your head and now you don’t care about anything else: what is it that you don’t know? What important secret has Miranda kept from you?

“I wasn’t the only one?” You ask without small talks, eager to get it out of you and sorted out before it drives you insane.

Her breath falters. She doesn’t move, but you feel something shifting in the air, in the way she rests her fingertips across your skin.

There’s silence for a long time.

You don’t know if she’s finally given up, or maybe it’s because she feels trapped, with nowhere to go, yet she heaves a sigh, hopefully readying herself to face you, your questions, and possibly the future that lies ahead.

“Nobody ever made it that far.” She says in the smallest voice you’ve ever heard coming from her.

There were others. There have been others before you. The information doesn’t shock you, what does it’s the complete lack of emotion on her part.

“You killed them?” You inquire. The words haven’t even left your mouth yet and you already fear the answer. She doesn’t speak, which already is enough, or very close to the reply you were anticipating and, still, you need to hear it; you need to hear it from her. “You killed other girls? Miranda!”

She flinches at the way you shout her name: demanding, enraged, not allowing room for lies or more silence. It’s new, it would’ve earned you a punishment. Now, it doesn’t.

You feel her muscles tense under you, above, all over.

“It’s my job.” She says, again, emotionless. “You don’t have to be shocked. You know how it started, you listened to my tales, you’ve seen this place and known Victor.” She swallows. “It was my job.” She corrects.

“So, you would’ve killed me.”

“No-”

“Yes. You would.”

Miranda doesn’t reply to that. She can’t reply to that with anything that could make you feel slightly better. You both know that, and you’re grateful she’s not telling lies, nor shying away with some witty comment, or distracting you with anything else.

“I didn’t.” She says at one point. “The point is that I didn’t.”

“Yes.” You agree, slightly confused.

You know there have been others in the same cell, maybe others had managed to get out and endure some of her training, but nobody has made it, in the end.

What makes you different? You’d want to know the answer so badly, but it’s probably too cheesy and close to the nonsense that it’s impossible. It had to do something with a peculiar feature in you, or how fast you learn, or something that you can’t think of right now. But what? “Why? Why didn’t you?”

“Listen,” She lets out a frustrated sigh. You know what she’s about to do: you’ve reached the breaking point, she has no escape and now she’s shying away, “this is not the place, nor the time to-”

“We could die.” You cut her off, virtually grabbing her before she can go and hide somewhere you can’t reach. “Am I right? We could die.”

“Aye.”

“Then talk to me!” Your breath hitches. “Please.”

Hidden from your inquiring glare, Miranda heaves a long sigh. One of her hand hovers on the small of your back, the other trails through the fine hair on your nape, but it’s hardly for your pleasure: she’s using you as a sort of stress relief and you’d gladly let her without complaints. You’d do that in normal circumstances, now you’re more than happy to indulge her to know the truth, finally.

“You know why I chose you.” Miranda says. You nod: she’s told the story already: no bonds, no real purpose in your life; simply the preferable candidate to kidnap and train. “But I never told you why I needed someone like you.” She pauses, clears her throat, her voice is getting hoarse. “You’ve seen this place, you must’ve realized, by now, that I work for Victor. Worked that is. We- we are criminals. Ruthless, cold-hearted, murderous criminals who obey orders for money, no matter what.”

“I know.” You croak out, even just to give her courage. Of course you know she’s not a saint, you’ve known it since the beginning. You have to admit that hearing it from her, the plain truth, is strange and upsetting, but you’ve been preparing for the revelation for weeks.

“I was supposed to collect some information about a very important family. Drug dealers, weapon treaders- the worst kind. I was supposed to get close to them and inside their corporation and get out when the work was done, but to do that, I needed bait. I needed somebody to blame so I could get out clean and alive.” She says in a thin voice. Her fingers get caught in your hair, she doesn’t pull. “I was supposed to train someone and feed them to the lions, but- I couldn’t do it. In the end, I couldn’t do it.”

“Because of me?” You ask hesitantly, fearing that your voice might break the spell. Luckily, it doesn’t. If anything, it seems to comfort her, in some way.

“Because it was you.” She corrects with a small huff. You can feel all the frustration trapped in her words. “I thought I was simply having fun while doing my job, I thought there was nothing wrong with taking the best out of the situation... but things got out of hand. I- I didn’t know what I was doing, at some point, I knew you were getting attached, but I tried to ignore the signals, I tried to dismiss the issue until it was too late. Until there was no space left to back up, and the only way was going forward.” She inhales deeply, resumes the slow caress on the small of your back. Inadvertently, she catches a welt and you do your best not to flinch away at the pain. “I convinced myself it was just fun, just sex, just casual cohabitation with benefits, and then you talked about love... and the bubble burst.”

“I’m sorry-” You murmur, she doesn’t hear you.

“I got- I got scared and I fucked it all up.”

She moves up your back without warning, and your abused skin sets on fire. Your mind was racing already, now, spurred by the blazing pain, is in literal delirium. You push yourself up, ignoring the tightness in your muscles, the ache of your welts, and sit back on your haunches, wincing at the position that has you dizzy, eyes boring into her.

Miranda stares, her gaze a mixture of concern and shyness, and guilt that flashes oh-so-clear in the blue of her eyes, like nothing ever before. Miranda has always been tough to read, but right now, she’s so vulnerable, so exposed that your heart almost aches.

“So?” You blurt out. “I’m scared all the time! I fuck things up all the time, what’s the big deal?”

Miranda chuffs out a chuckle. Her smile is bittersweet when she shakes her head.

“You don’t understand.” She whispers. “There’s no room for being scared in this world, nor to fuck things up. You do that, you’re dead!” She growls, jaw clenched and voice vibrating with the effort. “I can only be cold-hearted and confident and ruthless and strong-”

“No, you don’t understand!” You cut her off, heart in your throat. “You can be all of that at the same time and also allow yourself to be scared. Being scared it’s what makes you different from them, can’t you see it?” You lean forward, panting hard through the soreness in your back, and rest a palm on the floor.

“It’s what got us caught.” She insists. Miranda tries to reach for you, but you flinch back.

“You’re more than just black and white.” You whisper softly, voice so low you even wonder if she can actually hear you. Eyes fixed on the sticky linoleum, you don’t feel brave enough to bear her gaze. You’ve been willing to tell her something similar for ages, and now that it’s time, now that you’ve finally decided to seize the opportunity - because, frankly, there might not be a lot of chances in the future - you feel extremely agitated. It’s now or never. Literally. Besides, what is she going to do about it? Run off? Choke you to death? You’ll be dead anyway. “You’re more than that, Miranda, in fact... you have a whole spectrum of colors within you and you don’t even know it because you’ve been too busy suffocating it for years.”

You find the courage to lift your head, and look at her. She looks beautiful as always, her puzzled face all angles and sharp edges, blue eyes boring into your very soul. You feel exposed, and yet, for some reason, you’ve never felt braver.

“I can see through you.” You sigh, your hands shake. “You let me in, Miranda. It’s too late to push me out.”

There’s a long pause. Or is it a quick one, you don’t really know. The whole room is spinning, your tired brain struggling between processing the pain and the situation at the same time.

“I did, didn’t I?” Miranda snorts, chuffing out a disbelieving giggle as she probably laughs at herself. She breathes hard behind her palms, covering her face, and when she peels her hands away, she cocks her head to the side, her face a mixture of concern and condescending curiosity as she studies you. “I got your point, no lay back down. I don’t have salts if you faint on me.”

You gape at her, but you’re too tired to protest further, so you simply give in and settle on your stomach by her side.

“Do you really think this is the best time to pull out a joke about salt?”

“Why not?” She shrugs.

She’s right. Neither of you knows how much it’s left, and the timing, you have to admit it, was quite perfect.

“I think it’s the first time I’ve heard you joking.” You confess. Surprisingly, even and especially to yourself, you’ve managed to keep your voice even and emotionless. You were simply stating the fact, but you’ve managed to conceal everything that was behind it: even in those horrible times and even more disgusting place, Miranda is still uncovering new little bits of her.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles, out of the blue. “You didn’t deserve this.”

“Nobody does.” You reply, a little shrug of your shoulders.

Even if you might have a distorted vision of reality, you know she doesn’t deserve it. Despite what Miranda thinks of herself, no matter how guilty she feels, she does not deserve this.

The woman scoffs, you see her carding her hand through her hair angrily with the corner of your eyes.

“You shouldn’t be here in the first place.” She growls. “You shouldn’t love-”

“Miranda, stop it.” You exhale sharply and her precarious rambling stops immediately. “It’s not like I can help it.”

“Pity.” She mutters, almost automatically.

You can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt, but you manage to mask the rejection quite well. You turn your head to the other side, so you’re now facing the wall.

You know you’ve been a fool, you know you’ve just self-deceived for months about the nature of your relationship, you know you’ve hoped and waited for something to finally shift, and it did, but only on your side. Hope… was just a weapon as dangerous as a gun, maybe even worse.

It’s so perfectly clear, right now, so close to actually dying, that things will not change. Miranda will never love you when she barely cares.

After all, why would she? Why would somebody like her love a dull girl kidnapped in a dark alley, drunk, that was supposed to serve as bait?

Of course, it changed a bit. Maybe she’s taking a liking of you, but that’s it. That’s as far as it’ll ever go.

You stiffen when you feel her fingertips crawling up your back, dragging her pads along your spine, minding not to touch any welt or sore point.

You don’t know if she knows what you’re thinking, yet you’re sure she’s sensed your melancholy. She always does.

“It’ll take a while, but it’ll heal eventually.” She whispers soothingly.

“Those are not the scars I’m worried about.” You murmur back.

You’d wear those scars proudly just as you wear hers, if only to remind yourself of those times, of those things you’ve endured and survived together. You know those will heal, one day, leaving simple marks behind, but you’re not sure the hidden ones will too. Anyway, what’s the point, now? Everything seems so meaningless so close to possibly dying while being stuck: impossible to go back to feel nothing, impossible to claim more.

“Everything heals, eventually.” Miranda says, she seems lost in her thoughts and you don’t even know if she’s talking to you or to herself. You’re in no mood to mind looking, right now. “With time.”

“We might not have that, though.” You exhale, let your eyes close. “We might die before anything can actually heal, right?”

Miranda pauses for a moment. She stops her movements, settles her hand on your bruised hip, making you shiver under that hesitant touch. She sighs.

“Right.”

#miranda croft #miranda croft x reader #tfa #the flight attendant #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #femslash

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imaginethathaikyuu · 4 years

Note

How did I find your blog? I was looking for soft Kuroo content on google. And your soft birthday hc’s for him came up. And that’s also how I found tumblr

What was the first story of yours that I read? That Kuroo piece ^

Roughly, how long have I been following this blog? Well I found that piece shortly after it was posted so…. Around the beginning of December 2019 I think. Got a tumblr a few months later and you were the first person I followed (had you in my bookmarks bar before that! (still have you in my bookmarks bar and when I share my screen in classes there are occasionally questions. I ignore them))

What’s something I’ve noticed about you personality wise? You’re really clever and funny. But you’re also sweet. But because you’re clever you have no hesitation in setting up and enforcing your boundaries, and I really admire that strength and confidence.

Have we ever interacted, either by PM, ask, or in the comments? What was my perception of you? YES!!! PM, SOOOOO many asks, comments, and you sent me an ask. And reblogged it. And I cried. A lot. My perception: you’re lovely and I want to h*ld your h*nd ….please.

What’s my favorite story of yours? Oh how to choose. Firstly, I’m a nb, biracial, bisexual. Honey, I’ve never made a choice in my life. But let’s try here. Anything you’ve written for Tsukki. Literally all of it is gold. Fight me. I was going to write “especially [piece title]” but I LITERALLY CANNOT CHOOSE ONE. Your Bokuto nightmare piece. Your Kuroo angsty fight. Your Tendou dealing with S/O with parents who yell piece. Your Kinktobers. Your Futakuchi and Mattsun pieces. And your Terushima pieces. Ugh. I CANNOT CHOOSE. OH AND YOUR STREAMER KENMA!!!!!! OKay just… all of it. I can’t choose. I tried, and I failed, and I’m willing to admit failure.

What’s a story I’d love to see you write? I don’t want to say this… because it hurts me… but I just KNOW you’d write brilliant angst. Some of my fav pieces of yours are pained beginnings with happy endings. That fight with Tsukki after a bad day at work. The pieces I mentioned above (nightmare pieces and fighting pieces and angsty home life ha.. ha.ha.ha.). That Oikawa one where the reader wakes up in bed without him and thinks he left. You write these gorgeous atmospheres and descriptive, visceral feelings, and if you chose to use it for evil…. You could get evil shit done. You’re SO powerful. So I want to read it… but also…. I don’t. I’d love to see you write ABO like you mentioned a while back or just see you explore a cutesy soulmate AU or something. I think you’d be really good at writing an AU where you hear what the other person’s listening too. I feel like you’d be so good at making me feel something for someone who was in another city. (think this would be cute with Tsukki cos he’s headphones boy, OR terushima because I like the dynamic of someone flirty, who clearly cares about looks, falling for someone he can’t see) ANYWAY….

Favorite pairing you write for?/fav reader insert? Tsukishima x reader. It’s my fav self-ship. (but also Mattsun, Bokuto, Oikawa, Tanaka, and Akaashi because you write them SO WELL!!!!)

Have any of your stories helped me through a hard time? Of course. Your self-harm piece came at a time I needed it. Iwaizumi’s in particular saved my life. But also your Tendou dealing with S/O parents who fight… came right when I needed it. Also starting college… was hard.. And reading and rereading your fluff really pulled me through it.

Have any of your stories hit closer to home? YES (see above).

Do I genuinely like your blog, it’s aesthetic or posts? It’s overall feel? It’s content? Yes. The aesthetic is, ngl, a wee bit basic. But I kinda love that. And the feel? It feels like home. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Your blog is my safe space. So, yes, I love. It’s content? YES. OF COURSE. Your personality probably could have kept me here even if your content was kinda shit, but I follow you RELIGIOUSLY because of your content. So yes. I adore.

Is English my first language? Kinda??? I grew up in a trilingual household so I kinda learned three languages at the same time while growing up. But no, I don’t need to translate it in my head. Because English was one of the three.

Anything I want to share? Yes. Please keep being kind to yourself, caring for your mental health, enforcing your boundaries, loving Akaashi, and just generally being you. You’re so lovely as you are, and I hope you continue grow, but never change. Also I’m sorry about all your work stuff…. It literally makes me feel sick. And I hope you find a job where that’s not tolerated, or that your work finds a better way of protecting it’s employees. I know you know this, but none of it is your fault. I just hope things improve. AND I love you… a lot. And I’m so proud of you hitting 9K and you deserve so many more followers because your pieces are just... GORGEOUS. I can’t wait until I’m at Barnes and Noble in a few years and I can pick up a hardback copy of your debut novel. I’m so excited to say “I knew Em Akaashi (which is your legal name as far as I’m concerned) before she was so popular among the masses.”

so ive been trying to figure out the correct and worthy way to reply to this ask since the moment i got it......because its so fucking sweet and kind and amazing and pure and perfect and i just dont know how to use WORDS to explain the way it makes me feel so.......i will just reply in bullet points in regards to every question u answered to make it a lil easier :D

- the fact that u found my blog on google ....... like this may be odd and a very specific thing but before i made this blog i always hoped that 1 day my fanfic would pop up in google searches bc thats ALWAYS how i found fics when i was reading them religiously and i felt so much ENVY!!!!! LIKE I WANTED TO BE THERE I WANTED MY FICS TO B POPULAR ENOUGH TO POP UP ON GOOGLE.....that may sound very selfish but its true......so thats just very cool to me... :]

- u’ve been here for so long omg 🥺🥺🥺🥺 if anyone in ur classes ever asks jus promo my blog like its nbd

- thats so sweet what 🥺🥺🥺 i try my best to advocate for myself and be confident for myself.....ive spent far too much of my time being silently uncomfortable because i was afraid of pushing someone’s buttons seeming rude.....but NO MORE!!!! i know what upsets me, i know my triggers, i know what i dislike experiencing, and im never gonna let myself be anxious or uncomfortable for someone else’s sake, esp if theyre being rude 2 me. i would say its less strength and confidence and moreso me attempting to take control of my anxiety in the places i can (aka on the Internet) bc i am SICK OF ANXIETY ATTACKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- BBY no dont CRY!!!! im racking my brain trying to think of who u are i wanna know so bad so i can thank u personally for being the kindest person in the world n so i can send u more asks >:(........MY HAND IS URS TO HOLD!!!!! dont tell akaashi tho

- OMG my TSUKKI pieces.....hes so hard to write why ;-; thank u so much im so glad u enjoy my works<3333

- NOT ANGST NOT LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!! pained beginnings to happy endings are my specialty.....IMAGINE me writing a sad ending like i CANT!!!!!!!!! ive only done it a few times and it is so Difficult.....YALL ARE SO LUCKY IM NOT EVIL!!!!!! ive had this idea for an angsty akaashi fic that i think about and write in my head every night before falling asleep and it Hurts and i wanna write it but i also can’t make myself :D ABO would be very fun but i genuinely do not know how to explore the concept while making it feel like it’s Written By Me.....u know what i mean? same with soulmate aus, i really dislike writing them because theyre just boring to me like they all feel the same everything’s been done for them.....which is FINE!!! but i write enough cliche stuff as it is HAHA, a long distance type soulmate au could be fun and interesting but ldr’s trigger me bc of a past relationship so </3 but hey maybe someone else could use the idea!!!!!

- gotta love tsukishima <3

- im rlly glad my writing could be there for you friend, one of the biggest reasons i write fanfic (and write the kind of fics i write) is bc i know firsthand how much reading sweet stories abt ur comfort characters can help u through the shittiest times - i just wanna offer ppl some support and happy feelings and love cuz sometimes fanfic is the only time we can find those things (and theres nothing shameful abt that either if anyone bullies u for reading fanfic i will fight them)

- I KNOW MY LAYOUT IS LAZY AND BASIC AS FUCK AND THAT IS BECAUSE I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT LMAOOOO so im glad u think its ok...... like i dont have the patience to create a fancy ass layout that actually works are u KIDDING ME??????? I COULD LITERALLY NEVER plus i kinda like that its just the basic kinda ugly boring default layout like it makes it simple and easy and i feel like it brings focus to the only thing on this blog that i care about which is my writing, i rlly only care about the content here and not aesthetics jdbljdabsdk that blue background will be there til i Die......i adore u more btw

- WHOA trilingual what the hell ur so cool tell me more

- you have my word, friend, that i will continue to do all of that so long as you do the same. take care of yourself, be kind to yourself - i know u can do it, ur so kind to others and u deserve to be kind to urself, too so this is the part that genuinely brought me to tears because *sappy dumb shit ahead* ok look ever since i can remember the one and only thing ive wanted to do with my life is become an author ...... dreams of book covers with my name written on them and words in pages written by me and fanart of my characters and going into my local bookstore n seeing my book there....these thoughts all haunt my fucking brain because i want it SO BAD!!!!!!!! so bad that it makes me CRY!!!!!!!! ive never wanted something more and just!!!!!!!!!!!! idk how much u meant that part but holy fuck!!!!!! i hope so bad that one day i can send u a free copy of my book as a thank u for being the person u are. u have all my love friend, every last bit of it <333333333

#ily<3 #long post

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thepancakeboi · 4 years

Text

118. “Forget the douche. He’s a dick. He’s a dickdouche.”

Divergence AU Part IV

Previous | Next (coming 10/17) | AU list | Prompt source

Fanfic under cut

11/22

Leader of the Phantom Thieves Commits Suicide in Custody

No, he hasn’t. The headlines are wrong. He’s alive-

They’re wrong, but he’s not alive. You killed him.

That’s wrong! He didn’t die, I’m sure of it.

No, you shot him in the head! He didn’t survive.

It was a fake. It was Sae’s cognition of him. It wasn’t him!

Sure about that?

Yes. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t acting like he normally does. He would have-

He was drugged, you fool. He’s as good as dead.

“Shut up!”

I sigh, closing my eyes and pushing away the pages of unfinished work as I lean further back in my chair. I hadn’t meant to yell that out loud. These past few days have been...rough, to put it mildly. No one should have to shoot their friend in the head and pretend to enjoy it. The memories are still fresh in my mind. I couldn’t give a shit if the guard had actually died or not, but Ren...

I’ve continuously told myself that everything worked, that he’s still a part of this world. The rational part of my brain tells me otherwise. There had been so much blood...and that fearful look on his face...

He only looked like that because he realized that we failed.

All I want to do is scream if only to silence the voices in my head. Maintaining the charade for so long is taking its toll on me. I open my eyes as I feel something wet sliding down my cheeks.

Am I...crying?

I wipe the tears and the moisture away, disgusted with myself. I can’t let myself cry. Crying is a form of weakness. You can’t let your feelings show like that. It’ll simply get you killed in the end.

This isn’t getting me anywhere. I shove myself to my feet, hastily grabbing my briefcase as I leave my apartment. What I need right now is a delicious cup of coffee and confirmation that my rival/friend/potential love interest managed to cheat death after all.

The hour it takes me to get from Kichijoji to Leblanc in Yongen-Jaya seems to drag on and on. It’s a relief when I finally arrive at the familiar back-alley cafe. The little bell jingles as I enter. There’s no sign of Ren. “Sorry, we’re closing for-” Sojiro starts to say, only to stop when he sees it’s me. “Oh, it’s you.”

“My apologies for coming so late into the evening,” I respond, my voice a little louder than necessary in the desperate hopes that Ren is still alive and will hear me. “I hope you don’t mind, but could I-”

My words are interrupted by someone barreling down the stairs and nearly tackling me as he pulls me into a hug. “I lived,” a familiar voice whispers in my ear, sounding very smug for someone who just cheated death.

“Ren...” I gently push him away, wanting to verify for myself that it’s truly him. Unless the black-haired, gray-eyed boy holding onto me is an extremely convincing replica, it’s definitely Ren Amamiya. He looks remarkably well for someone who had been beaten up and drugged by the police. The very thought of it still pisses me off. We hadn’t expected anything like that, and it really could have messed everything up. I hate that I thought it had screwed us over. Luckily, Ren must have remembered the plan in the end. “Nobody knows you’re alive, right?”

“Other than the Phantom Thieves and Sae, no. Oh, and Kawakami, but she won’t tell anyone.”

“Good.” I don’t know what else to say, so I just say nothing at all.

“I’m heading home now,” Sojiro says amid the silence. “Don’t forget to close up shop once you’re done.”

“Got it,” Ren answers. We watch as Sojiro leaves, quiet for a few more moments before Ren speaks up again, pulling me close to him once more. “I missed you.”

“I know you didn’t see me for nearly two days, but I wasn’t the one who could have died,” I retort.

“Yeah, but I still missed you.” He rests his forehead against mine, for some reason wanting to be close like this. An impish smirk appears on his face as he notices my blush. “What about you, Akeppi? Did you miss me while I was dead? Did you think about me in all your waking moments? Wonder what could’ve been if we just met sooner?”

“Quit being so overdramatic,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. He doesn’t need to know how I haven’t gotten much sleep the past two nights because of him or how he did, in fact, occupy my thoughts day in and day out. “You weren’t dead nor are you currently dead.”

“But I am dead. Drop-dead gorgeous.”

I avert my gaze away from his beautiful gray eyes. Eyes that a couple of days ago had been completely terrified before-no. I shove that thought away into the deepest recesses of my mind. Now is not the time to break down. Not in front of him. “You must be fine if you’re managing to make jokes like that,” I snark.

“What? I am Joker,” he replies back with a sassy grin to match. The corners of my mouth twitch upward. His grin is downright infectious. The grin drops away as he seems to remember something. He hesitates for a few seconds before asking, “So...what are we gonna do about Shido?”

I jolt at the mention of that man’s name from Ren’s mouth. Outraged, I nearly shove Ren off of me as I yell, “How did you find out about him!?”

His hand instinctively moves, covering his mouth. I recognize the motion, a habit of his when he’s anxious or nervous. Whatever he’s about to say, he’s likely worried about my potential reaction. “I had Futaba wiretap your phone.”

So, he was eavesdropping on me, and when I had slipped up and said Shido’s name in the call after having “murdered” Ren, he and Futaba heard it too. It feels like a punch to the gut. I had been planning on telling him! There’s only one reason I can think of for why he would wiretap my phone without telling me. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

“I do trust you!” he replies immediately, fervently denying the accusation. I want to believe him. “But I had to take precautions.”

“Like what, exactly? You shouldn’t have kept me in the dark!” Hypocritical, I know. I had kept him in the dark regarding who Shido was for months now.

“What if something had changed in the plan?” I open my mouth, about to respond, but he cuts me off. “I know you’ll say you would’ve told me, but what if there wasn’t a chance? If something changed while I was in prison, you wouldn’t be able to tell me.”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“Would you have been able to stand up against Shido?”

What does he mean by that? Of course, I would have tried, but... “I would have fabricated some reason as to why the plans could not be changed.”

“But what if push came to shove? What if he threatened you?” I can feel the blood draining from my face against my will. I wouldn’t put it past Shido. He praises me now, but if I were to try and turn against him, I know he’d kill me off somehow. Knowing him, it wouldn’t be pleasant, either. Ren seems to realize this too. He gently wraps his arms around me, pulling me back into the hug from earlier. “I really did mean it when I said I’d help you. We’re going to change Shido’s heart. Will you join us?”

“I can’t.”

“Huh?” Ren sounds genuinely surprised at my refusal. “Why not?”

“As much as I would love to get my revenge myself, Shido would notice if-”

“Forget the douche. He’s a dick. He’s a dickdouche.”

That gets a hearty chuckle out of me. The way he phrased it is just too amusing. I’m sure he can hear my sarcasm as I reply, “Oh, how marvelous. That was the most profound and articulate statement I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“I try,” he says, grinning. “But why not? What’s stopping you from joining us?”

“My schedule is going to be...very busy in light of recent events. I won’t have a lot of free time to be gallivanting with you through his Palace.”

“We can work around it. I know you spent so much time planning this. And I’d love it if you were there by my side when we take him down.”

“We won’t have time to waste. It has to be done before he’s elected.”

“December 18th,” Ren interrupts.

“Yes. You’ll have to be ready for me to say we can enter Shido’s Palace.”

“You know the keywords,” he says. So, he remembers how I hadn’t denied knowing them before. I nod in confirmation. “We have the name and place. But what does he see the Diet Building as?”

“A ship.”

“A ship?” he repeats, making sure he heard it right. I don’t blame him. If I didn’t know that rotten piece of shit personally, I would’ve been stumped too.

“Yes, a ship. He sees himself as the captain of a ship for the elite in a sinking country.” How absurd. “If you go in tomorrow, I would be able to come,” I add.

Ren grins, seemingly happy with this. He then gets this melancholic look on his face. “Our deal’s going to be over soon. Once we change Shido’s heart, that is.”

“No,” I assert, shaking my head. He’s not getting out of this so easily. “I haven’t fulfilled my end of the deal. We still need to prove your innocence in the assault charge. That starts with finding the man who accused you.”

“About that. I...think I might know who it is. I’m not sure, but I think I’m right.”

“Really? Then who is it?”

“...Shido.”

“You’re joking,” I guffaw. Surely he must be kidding.

“Dead serious.” Ren laughs a little, probably because his sense of humor picked up on how he just said he was “dead” serious. So mature.

Once he’s finished laughing, I ask, “Are you telling me that we both were going after the same man this whole time?”

“I guess so,” he replies with a shrug.

I can’t help but chuckle, shaking my head at the sheer absurdity of the number of coincidences that have been occurring between us. “Fate works in quite mysterious ways.”

“Fate’s been good to me. I got to meet you. And we got to fall in love.”

I tilt my head to the left, a little confused. “Where did you get that idea?”

“You told me that you love me.”

“I did not,” I deny, clearly lying. There’s no way he could know. He-

“Did too. It was a week ago. I wasn’t asleep,” he adds, nearly whispering the last part in my ear, sending unexpected shivers down my spine.

...wait. There’s something in what he said that is vying for my attention now. Even if he had heard me as he claims, he said we fell in love. Could he...? I have to know. “Hold on, does that mean...you love me?”

The grin that brightens his face could melt through the coldest of hearts. “Yup!”

“But...I’m a bastard son.” I have no idea where this self-deprecating behavior is coming from. However, I need him to realize that the person he thinks he loves isn’t me. I’m not that polite, pleasant boy he met in June. “I’m an utter disgrace to the world...a deranged murderer. Hell, you could have died because of me! And you...you’re special. Perfect. How could someone like you-”

“You’re perfect just the way you are. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

“I’m not the ace detective you think I am. That simpering personality is just a charade to ingratiate me to the public. That’s not who I am!”

“I know.”

“And? You can’t possibly-”

I don’t have a chance to finish my sentence before Ren’s lips are pressed against mine. My breath catches in my lungs. I can only stare, eyes wide with shock. If I could see myself right now, I’d probably also be blushing. The kiss took me quite by surprise. The air still feels alive between us as Ren pulls away from the kiss, pulsing with an energy I hadn’t noticed before. I find myself wanting more. His smile is intoxicatingly sweet as he says, “I love you. I’ve seen the real you, and I love you for who you are.”

“You’re not just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear, is it?”

“No. I mean it. Just like how I’ve meant everything I’ve said.”

I finally wrap my arms around him. His warmth is so welcome. I didn’t know how much I wanted him like this. I refuse to let him try and save me or fix me or whatever he thinks he needs to do for me. All I want from him is his existence. Nothing more. “I love you too,” I say, resting my forehead against his, much like how he did earlier.

Ren holds onto me a little tighter as he whispers, “Let’s take down the dickdouche together.”

I snicker at his choice of words. “Yes. Together.”

#akeppi writes #p5 #persona 5 #goro akechi #akechi #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #akeshu #shuake #writing prompt

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nico-idc · 3 years

Text

random vent because i'm numb rn and feel like it

This is a vent post, ill probably talk about su!cide, self h*rm, eating disorders and depression. I’ll also cuss a lot, and things will not be censored. Also, this may seem insensitive to people experiencing any of this, sorry about that. Dont read this if youre triggered by that.

Also, this is my experience with mental health. Everyone deals with it differently.

So, If anyone doesnt know, I have depression and anxiety. And right now, I’m feeling numb as it’s often described by people with depression. But, numb isn’t a very good description. I can still feel. I’ll still smile if you tell me a joke, or if something funny is on a video. I’ll still cry if there’s something super sad. Emotion is just watered down. I feel it, but not as much as I should. Me and my boyfriend were talking, and i couldnt tell him I loved him. It’s not becuase I dont love him, but I just cant feel much of anything, so I dont want to tell him I loved him. Becuase If i did that, I felt as though I was lying. The funniest thing is, I randomly started crying. Still felt nothing, but hey, I had tears streaming down my face. Who fucking knows why.

I havent been doing to great for a while now, but this is the worst i’ve ever gotten. Ive never felt numb before. I mean, I’ve felt myself starting to go through the motions, but i’ve never gone completely numb before. And before this i’ve had a few mental breakdowns. Hell, I’ve sat in a corner twice in the past month or so doing nothing but sobbing and begging myself not to move so I dont grab something sharp and cut myself. (I did not relapse, don’t worry). and recently I completely broke down over simply eating a cereal bar, got through it, ate it. I’m good now.

Figures. That does seem to be my experience. Oh no, big bad issue one time, then magically I just talk myself out of my bullshit, and im fixed. Ha ha, yet I act like I have all these issues. I mean, I didnt even attempt to starve myself, just thought “oh, friends and family wont let me” and didnt. Had a breakdown about a year later, been fine since. Cut for a few months, went to therapy for a few months, stopped cutting. had a few breakdowns about a year or two later, then was fine. was suicidal for a while, went to therapy for a bit, was happy for months. Had breakdowns every now and then, fine now.

ha ha, first time I say alot of this is online. Figures. I’ve done that a lot too. My boyfriend has found out a bit about my depression through this site. Becuase I cant talk to my boyfriend about my shit, but hey random people on the internet! hear about my problems.

So on another note, I recently found a song that describes part of depression pretty well. It’s called “i’m not dead” by boyinaband. it’s linked below, I’ll copy paste the lyrics, and explain how I relate, and what the lyrics mean to me, becuase why not? (lyrics will be in bold)

undefined

youtube

I'm not dead

I'm not fixed, but I'm not giving up yet

Basically, this means that im still here, im still depressed, but I’m still trying to fight depression.

I'm sick of saying that I still don't have anything done

I hate telling friends I'm trying something just to give it up

I never commit to anything, I just say I’ll do something, then decide I dont want to.

I'm still unsure of my emotional state

I'm still incapable of focusing lately

I don't feel like creating

I'm tired of asking Google how to find motivation

I’ve been on break from writing for months now. tried to get back to it, lost concentration. I think this is self explanatory.

I don't think I've ever made

Something that's as good as I'm capable of

Ha, I dont put in enough effort and commitment to make something as good as possible.

I hate not having a reason to look my best

I only ever take care of myself with the intent to show the internet

I mean, I dont try to show the internet, but I only take care of myself when other people will see me.

If what made me successful was an imposed sense of stress then

I am so so glad that I hated myself

The only thing that makes me do things is extreme stress.

I didn't luck into this position

I struggle with decisions

I mean, im not in any high position, but I do struggle with decisions.

I wouldn't be my own friend

I'm too inconsistent

I’m inconsistent as hell. I’m in like 10 group chats, don't talk in any of them for months, then just show up like “hi, havent talked to you all in ages, but hi”.

Without immense pressure nothing ever gets finished

If these words make it to your ears it'll be a fucking miracle.

Yep. I went on whole rant about this on wattpad. Without pressure to do something, I don’t do it.

I'm fortunate to know more good people than most do

I wish I had more friends I could be physically close to

I dont personally have a lot of friends that dont live in my city, so the last line isnt an issue, but I do know a lot of good people”

I'm pretty good at like 20 different skill sets

At the expense of never being great at any one of them

I’m good at quite a few things. Drawing, math, even writing. But im not great at it. I’m average.

I wish this beat hit harder

I wish more syllables rhymed

I know 99 percent of people really don't mind

I dont personally relate to this, seeing as I dont make music.

I think collaborating forced me to finish things

'Cause I was terrified of wasting famous people's time

Oh yeah. Group projects would not get done if i wasnt scared of wasting my partner’s time.

I wish I could focus on what I define priority

I wish I was as grateful as I want to be

Dont really relate to these things

I wish I knew more people who were mentally stable

But if I did,

I wouldn't let them waste their time on me while I'm disabled

Oh yeah. Id love to have a friend who isnt depressed, but I wouldnt let them see that im fucked up becuase i dont wanna drag them down.

I feel alone

I know I'm not

I have a lot of friends, but I still fell alone in this world

I used to talk to lots of people.

Lately I've stopped

They didn't deserve it,

I've been a terrible friend.

But I couldn't bear to let myself become boring to them

I ignore group chats all the time. no reason. Probably shouldnt.

I don't let myself get my hopes up.

I love people who do.

Something good happens? what could go wrong? that is my thought precess.

I never know if what I say I feel is the truth

I have no damn Idea what I think, so its so hard to know what the truth in my head is.

I wish I didn't instinctively try to be less specific

So more people could relate, when they read along with the lyrics.

Not lyrics, but if i write/explain something, I immediately generalize things so its relateable.

I can be happy in the moment

I am not when I reflect

I smile watching youtube, but then I look back and think about how I wasted time.

I distract myself with gaming, waiting to get better

I hate it

Youtube will cure depression right? /s

I wanna do the most good, and prevent the most hurt

But I've gotta put on my own oxygen mask first

This is just an important phrase I try to remember when I’m down. for people who dont do well with metaphors, he’s saying that if you want to help people, you need to help yourself first.

I can't predict what I'll do.

I can never be sure

I am terrified of making promises any more

I can't face my work,

I feel sick from the word

I genuinely believe I'm capable of changing the world

Don’t relate much here, except for the more positive, upbeat tone the song takes on, and i feel that this part, the part above and everything below is dave fighting his depression.

I still think I can get better

I’m holding onto hope.

I still think I can create and get pleasure from it

I hope so, I want my art and writing to improve.

I'll keep aiming to make my emotion and my logic agree

The eternal stuggle. I always try to get the two to line up, it rarely works. I try to use logic more often though.

And become the best version of me

Always trying to improve myself.

I don't want to stop!

There’s alot this could mean. I dont want to stop creating. I dont want to stop fighting. I dont want to stop getting better. I dont want to stop living. I relate to all these things.

I’ll expand on this more later, it’s too late now for me to continue this

#cussing tw #swearing tw #tw suicide mention #tw self harm #tw eating disorder #vent post

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 88

Warnings: none

Tagging: @tragiclyhip, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

The final attempt at sleep had been successful. Although the road ahead of him is destined to be long and extremely difficult -and no doubt agonizing- his brief moment of wakefulness had done wonders to life Esme’s spirits. That chance to speak to him; to see him open his eyes and know -with one hundred percent certainty- that he was able to acknowledge her. It wasn’t a drug induced incoherent rambling or hallucination. He actually saw her and was able to engage; giving appropriate responses and showing concern for her and the baby. Able to express how he was feeling and that telling her he loved her. No one could ever possibly understand how just incredible that small moment was, or what an enormous impact it had on her state of mind. She knows it won’t be easy. There will be weeks, even months, of healing; tremendous pain and more hard times than easy ones. A full recovery could take as long as a couple of years; countless rounds of physical rehab will be needed and most likely therapy for mental health and addiction issues. But he’s already shown just how tenacious and strong he actually is; his will to live a lot more powerful than the agony he’s experiencing. With so much to live for, his desire to be with his family again is his main driving force, and she knows he’ll be willing to do whatever it takes to get back on his feet again.

Nathan may have been able to break his body, but he hadn’t made a dent in his spirit.

The burden she’s been carrying -the fear, worry, and uncertainty- had been lessened, and she’d been able to drift off; both body and mind allowing her to rest. So soundly in fact, that she’d only briefly stirred in the wee hours of the morning when Julie had come in while on her rounds. Merely lifting her head from the pillow; quietly observing as the nurse switched empty IV and medicine bags with full ones. Then she’d simply rolled over, pulled the blankets over her head, and easily drifted off.

Her sleep once again had been filled with dreams of the past. Millie’s first steps and how ecstatic and proud Tyler had been; never getting to experience many of Austin’s milestones because of deployments. How tearful he’d been the morning he’d walked into her room and Millie -who’d been standing up in her crib, excitedly bouncing up and down at the mere sight of him- had called him ‘daddy’ for the very first time. And the way he’d broken down in the delivery room when the twins had been born -even harder than he had when his daughter came into the world- and the nurse had given him TJ and said “Here’s your son”. He’d lost his first, and getting that moment again -a baby boy presented to him- had profoundly affected him A man that rightfully shouldn’t even have been alive. Who’d been given a second chance and at times didn’t feel as if he deserved it. There are still times he thinks that way. When the demons of the past resurface and play havoc on his brain; convincing him that the mistakes of a younger man and the amount of blood on his hands has turned him into a monster. It’s the nightmare of living with mental health issues and PTSD; those dark moments where he questions his mere existence and openly states that he doesn’t deserve the life he has now; a wife and children that love and accept him unconditionally.

It’s hard for people to understand. How a man that is so big and so strong -and often intimidating- can have those kinds of thoughts and vulnerable moments. But they don’t know everything that he’s battled. His childhood is one of his best kept secrets; only her and Koen know the full extent of his father’s behaviour, the abuse inflicted, and the long term damage it has caused. It’s not something he readily talks about; even with her. That toxic masculinity still gets the better of him at times. His father’s attempts at beating into him that a man -a REAL MAN- doesn’t show emotion; it means that he’s weak and there’s nothing more pathetic than being weak. And she’s tried to break him of it; years spent assuring him that he isn’t a weak man. A weak man would have given up in that storage facility. In the same way he would have given up on the Sultana Kamal Bridge seven years ago. And he certainly never would have survived the nightmare of his upbringing. Nor would he be so determined to be a better man; the kind of husband and father that a wife and kids can brag about and proud of. Who never have to live in fear of him ; cowering every time he raises his voice or even comes too close to them. Who know -beyond the shadow of a doubt- how much he loves him.

Tyler Rake is anything BUT weak. And he’d shown that the night before. Somehow finding a way to battle his way through this thick haze of multiple medications; gathering the strength to not only open his eyes, but actually think coherently and communicate. He was right. He DOES do whatever he wants.

When she finally wakes, it’s to the patter of rain against the window and the sounds of hospital life trickling through the half open door. Doctors being paged, the shrill ring of patients’ using their call buttons to summon for help, the loud rattle of gurneys being pushed through the halls. It’s a harsh reminder of her current situation; stuck in the ICU of a private hospital in Dhaka, thousands of miles away from her children and the comforts and security of her own home. She misses it. The sound and the smell of the ocean. The morning breeze and sunshine as she stands out on the back deck enjoying that first cup of tea, watching her husband as he helps Millie and the twins search -and dig, at times- for shells, rocks, and beach glass. Often wondering who is enjoying the quality time more; father or children. The dinners cooked on an open fire down by the water; the smiles brought to their faces -and that unconditional love and immense pride in his eyes- as they watch their children play and listen to those little voices and musical giggles floating on the air. And those strong, protective arms wrapped around her from behind as she sits between his legs. Her head resting against his chest as they quietly marvel at the sky; painted vivid shades of orange and pink as the sun sets.

It’s a life she had never even dared to dream about; a beautiful home in an even more even more beautiful place, amazing children and a husband that is faithful and loyal and only has eyes for her. All those things that she’d come to believe SHE didn’t deserve and had long ago given up on finding. How poetic in a way; two broken people coming together to make a slightly dented whole.

Sighing heavily, she rolls from side to back; eyes closed as she stretches and yawns The morning sickness has returned. With a vengeance. More than likely made worse by lack of food and the stress and worry that have accompanied the last twenty four hours. When she manages to quell the threatening nausea and brief spell of dizziness, she opens her eyes and sits up, finding a small paper bag sitting on the extra pillow beside her; name written on the front of it in black marker. And the contents bring the first genuine smile since yesterday morning; aside from Tyler’s brief period of consciousness. A bottle of prenatal vitamins, a small carton of chocolate milk, and an enormous blueberry muffin. Accompanied by a handwritten note from Julie; asking Esme to promise she’ll look after herself AND the baby, assurance that she’ll be back on in the evening, and her home phone number. The latter being offered as not only a ‘helpline’ if she feels overwhelmed and scared and needs someone to vent and cry to, but so she can give the nurse a list of some of her favorite foods. Julie vowing to bring a selection when she clocks in for her shift. It’s refreshing; having someone WANT to take care of her in that motherly fashion. Especially when her own has been anything but.

She shoves her feet into her sandals and climbs off the bed; returning it to its couch form. “Hey baby,” she greets as she stands at the side of Tyler’s bed; combing her fingers through his hair and pressing her lips to his temple. “Good morning. I hope you slept god. You didn’t snore, I know that much. That’s a first, huh? Me not complaining about your snoring? Must have been a really good sleep for you to be THAT quiet. You deserve it; that kind of sleep. Your face looks a little better, I think. Not as swollen. Pretty bruised though. And you’re going to have a couple wicked scars at the end of this.”

Her fingers gently touch the stitches below and above his eye.

“You’d probably joke about how it balances your face out; the right catching up with the left in the scar department. I think they’re going to make you even sexier. Which should be illegal, if you ask me. One man being that sexy? No wonder you’re a DILF. The thirsty ladies may drive me crazy, but I can’t really blame them. Right now I’m kind of mad at you though. I am so nauseous. And I swear, the bump is even bigger this morning...look…” she pushes her fingers through his, then draws their joined hands through the safety railing and places them on her stomach. “...bigger, right? You can’t tell me this is normal. None of the other ones were this size so soon. Not even Declan, and he was over ten pounds when he was born. And you better not be thinking multiples; one is all we can handle right about now. Let’s not bite off more than we can chew, alright? Six is more than enough. And speaking of babies, I’m going to ask Ovi to bring Addie here. She’s tiny still, Tyler. She shouldn’t be away from us this long. Especially me. She needs to be with her momma. And I think it would do you some good, too; having at least one of them here. So that’s my decision and you’re just going to have to live with it.”

She moves his hand back inside the confines of the bed, gently setting it on the mattress

“I love you,” she says, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You keep sleeping, okay? And I hope if you’re dreaming, it’s good things for a change.”

****

She gives a small start when she exits the bathroom and finds Koen sitting in the bedside chair. Sipping from a take out cup of coffee and freshly shaven; his face bearing its own fair share of bruises and a handful of butterfly bandages keeping small, superficial wounds closed.

“Morning, sunshine!” He cheerfully greets, and nods to the cup of tea and a bag of fast food breakfast sitting on the window ledge. “I finally get to see you in your sexy jammies.”

Esme gives a derisive snort. “You DO have issues if you find sweatpants and an oversized shirt sexy,” she says as she journeys over to the window “I was going to give you shit for scaring the crap out of me, but seeing as you come bearing gifts, I’ll let it slide.” She peers into the bag, a grin tugging at her lips. “Either it was just a lucky guess, or you somehow know that when I’m pregnant, I always crave breakfast burritos.”

“There’s a lot I know about you. Someone talks about you. All the time. Mostly about shit I don’t need to know.”

“Well I’m glad you listened. Because this is a very nice surprise. Thank you,” she lays a hand on his shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. “And what’s up with this?” She lightly taps a hand against the side of his face. “All cleaned up. Smooth like a baby’s bum.”

“I thought there might be some hot nurses walking around. Want to put my best foot forward. Maybe you can hook me up; put in a good word for me.”

“Why would you want to hook with someone here? You’ll be going home soon.”

“Exactly.”

“Ewww…” she grimaces. “...I don’t need to know that you’re a ‘pump and dump’.”

“Considering the things I’ve had to hear from you and him?” Koen nods in Tyler’s direction. “What I said is tame. I’ve actually had to listen to you two….”

“I thought you were moving on from random hookups?” Esme remarks, and she perches on the arm of his chair and delves into one of the burritos. “I thought you were getting too old for that shit?”

“Excuse me, who are you calling old?”

“I thought Tyler was rubbing off on you. That he was some sort of inspiration to you and Rata; convincing you two it was time to stop sowing your wild oats and settle down once and for all. Didn’t you say it gave you hope? That if...and I quote…’someone can put up with the likes of him, that’s proof there IS someone out there for everyone’.”

“I did say that.”

“So what gives? Why are you looking for a random? You deserve more than that”

“Well if he was awake and could tell me where to find another one of you, I’d be all set.”

“Sorry. I’m limited edition. And I’ve already been claimed. A couple breakfast burritos just aren’t enough to make me divorce my husband and run away with you. It definitely takes more than that.”

“I knew I should have gotten you hash browns too.”

“That would have done it! Boy, did you ever blow that. I would have for sure ran away with you. Right this very second.”

“You know, as much as I enjoy our little banter, I don’t think I could handle you.”

“Oh, you definitely couldn’t. It takes a special breed of man, believe me. And I’m serious; aren’t you tired of NOT having someone to call your own? Someone to go home to at the end of the day? Someone that is your ‘be and end all’? Your ‘ride or die’?. You deserve to be happy. I WANT you to be happy.”

“I think Tyler took all the happy and didn’t leave any for anyone else.”

“When we get home, I am finding someone for you. I don’t care what it takes; I will put you on every dating site out there.”

“What about your sister? Or step sister. Whatever she is.”

“Riley? Are you serious? She’s twenty three!”

“And?”

“And you’re thirty years older than she is!”

“How old do you think I am?”

“I know you’re eight years older than Tyler. He’s almost forty two. So I lied; you’re only twenty seven years old than she is.”

“And?”

“And that’s fucking disturbing!”

Koen shrugs. “She’s cute”

“She is. You know who else finds her cute? Women. Who she is into. And she’s not a switch hitter.”

“Doesn’t take after her older sister, huh?”

Esme frowns. “He told you THAT, too?”

“He’s told me a lot of things, sunshine. You forget; he’s a chatty drunk. Until he’s a depressed and weepy drunk, that is.”

“There are many sides to him you don’t get to see. Sober sides. And don’t worry; my sister isn’t in contention, but I WILL find someone for you. And speaking of someone, where’s your sidekick?”

“He saw something downstairs he liked.”

“Really…” she playfully wriggles her eyebrows. “...blond or brunette?”

“Something in the gift shop. For the baby.”

“He knows?”

“EVERYONE knows.”

“Yaz has a big mouth,” Esme grumbles. “We weren’t going to tell anyone until we got home and found how far along I am. It’s what Tyler and I wanted.”

“I could gather a guess. About how far.”

“Sure you could,” she mutters. “And why do you keep looking at me like that? Why do you keep staring at my crotch?”

“I’m looking at your stomach. Where’d that come from?”

“It’s been there. I’ve just been hiding it because no one was supposed to know! Now that everyone does, I guess I don’t have to wear baggy clothes anymore. And it’s big, right? The bump? Bigger than any of the others?”

“How should I know? I only saw you pregnant with Millie and Addie. Never saw you with any of the boys.”

“It’s never been like this so soon! How big IS this baby?”

“Look at the size of the kid’s father. Maybe it’s taking after him. Or maybe there’s more than one.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you think it? Don’t put that out into the universe. There’s just one. That’s it. That will make it six. A nice even number.”

“Number six must be pretty damn big then.”

“You know what? You’re off my Christmas card list. There’s no way we’re running away together. You totally shit the bed. No second chances for you.

“What if I bring you chocolate?”

“Not even then. You just had to jinx the entire thing.”

Koen gives an over dramatic pout.

“Buddy, I have seen better pouts on a much bigger man. That won’t work on me. You have nothing on Tyler’s pout.”

“He doesn’t pout.”

“He sure as shit does. I’m going to prove it one day. I’m going to catch him doing it and take a picture. Then I’ll have the evidence. Tanner has the EXACT same pout; he mostly does it when he’s sleeping.”

“Speaking of pictures, I’ve got a little something for ya.” Koen reaches into the side pocket of his cargo pants, pulling out his cell and then thumbing through the gallery; choosing the image he wants and offering the phone to her. “Thought it would make you smile. The world’s a shitty place when you don’t. You got yourself a pretty nice smile.”

“You’ve been taking ass kissing lessons from the best, haven’t you,” she chides, then pops the last of her breakfast into her mouth and wipes her hands on her thighs. “Oh...my...god…” she breathes, and almost squeals in delight at the sight before her. Her husband long before the hardness and weariness brought on by his time in the military, substance abuse issues, and the dangers of the job. Before all of those demons took hold of him and he’d yet to go under a tattoo artist’s needle and no scars marred his body. Tall and lean; broad shouldered and bearing the start of the strong and solid physique of a soldier. A brush cut and a smooth, clean face; the smile -genuine and pure- making his eyes crinkle and sparkle.

“Back when he couldn’t even grow a proper beard yet,” Koen muses. “When he was still wet behind the ears. Nothing hard ass about that bloke in the picture, is there.”

“Where did you get this?” Esme can’t explain it; the tug at her heart and the emotion choking at her and the tears that well in her eyes. There’s something so surreal about it; seeing the person you love long before a hard and unpredictable life got a hold of them.

“Found a box of old pictures when I was going through some stuff back home. Meant to show it to him, but never got around to it. You mentioned before that you’ve never seen what he looked like before...well...before all of this.”

“I’ve only ever ever seen one picture of him. When he was five; with his mom on his first day of kindergarten. He doesn’t have any other ones; he says it’s not worth the grief he’ll get if he asks his dad if he has any. This is…I don’t know...it’s amazing. You have no idea what this means to me; seeing this. ESPECIALLY right now. This is everything. You can’t possibly understand what this does for me.”

“I think I do. I know how you feel about him. That you’re just as much a fool in love as he is.”

“I certainly am,” she smiles. “How old is he here?”

“Nineteen. Hadn’t been out of basic long; a couple weeks maybe. When he was a cocky little shit and as green as fresh baby shit. Cute, ain’t he?”

“Very cute. It’s weird seeing him like this. I’ve only seen MY Tyler. The one I’ve spent seven years with. I’ve never seen THIS Tyler. I know that sounds strange.”

“I’ve heard stranger.”

“Fourteen year old me would have had a huge crush on him.”

“What was fourteen year old Esme like?”

“Awkward. Geeky. Short as fuck and chubby. I had braces and jet black hair and I dressed like a goth. Big old Doc Marten boots that went up to my knees and everything.”

“Now THAT I’d like to see.”

“I don’t even have pictures of ME when I was that young. Tyler’s never seen old photos of me, either. I think the youngest he’s ever seen me was when I was twenty-three and just got into the Corps. It’s what happens; when your family is toxic and you’d rather not deal with them. Can you send this to me? I’d love to have this. And I’d love to show the kids. Especially Millie. She’d like to see her daddy when he was young and cute.”

“I’ll send it to ya. And when we get home, I’ll bring that box down and we can go through it. I’m sure there’s more you’d love to have. “

“Thank you.” She can’t hold back the tears. “You have no idea what it means to me. Even just having one picture. And I’m sorry; that I’m a whiny bitch baby. I would like to be able to blame it on the baby and my hormones, but it’s not those things. It’s just me. I’m not exactly having the best twenty four hours. I miss my kids. I hate being so far away from them. Especially Addie. But I can’t leave Tyler here. I just can’t.”

“I could stay,” Koen offers. “He wouldn’t be alone, you know that.”

“And I appreciate it, I do. But I need to be here with him. I didn’t leave him seven years ago, and I’m sure as hell not leaving him now. It’ll be better; when he gets sent to a hospital back home. Closest one is an hour from the house. It’ll be better than.”

“Well I’ll stick around as long as you need me to. Sort of made a promise that I’d take care of ya. I ain’t breaking it.”

“You’re all heart, Koen. You can pretend to be surly and hard ass all you want. I’m onto you.”

“Yeah, well I kind of like that giant, dumb ass bloke you’re married to. And you’re growing on me. So I figure I might as well step up and take his spot and treat like you like the queen you are.”

“You smooth talker,” she teases, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. For the picture. You really don’t know how grateful I am for it. And thanks for being here; for both of us.”

“Anytime, sunshine.”

“And thank you for being with him yesterday. I could tell he was scared and in pain, and when I think what would have happened if he’d been alone…”

“Well he wasn’t. Alone. So don’t even think about that.”

“Thank you for getting him out of there. At least if he DID die, he wouldn’t have been left there. I don’t think I’d ever get over that; if I had to leave him here. I couldn’t cope with that.”

“Let’s not think about that, yeah? He got through it. He got out of there and it’s only uphill from here.”

“He really thought he was going to die, didn’t he.”

“Honestly? We all thought he was going to die.”

She releases a long, shaky sigh and blinks back tears. “I’m glad you were there with him. At least if the worst happened, he wouldn’t have been by himself. That is my biggest fear when it comes to the job; that if it DOES happen, he’ll be alone. I don’t know why it bothers me as much as it does. I just don’t want him to be alone...you know...IF…”

“Can’t dwell on stuff like that. You’ll drive yourself insane. Or give yourself gray hair.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already HAVE gray hair.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“I appreciate you feeding my ego, but I know you can see it. And believe, every one of my gray hairs has Tyler’s name on them. Maybe TJ too. Go figure; the junior being a TRUE junior.”

“That kid is his dad through and through. Tough on the outside, all heart on the inside. And that Millie…”

“Female version of him.”

“Exactly. It’s fitting if you ask me; him having a girl first and her being just like him. Gonna have his hands full with her.”

“She called last night. Wanting to talk to him. She had a bad dream and he always makes her feel better after a bad dream. Daddy’s the one that chases all the monsters away. She has so much faith in him; she knows he’d never ignore her. She’s already questioning why she can’t get a hold of him. I have to tell them; I can’t keep lying to them. And I’d rather they hear it from me than someone else. They’ll take it better if it comes from me, I think.”

Koen nods in agreement.

“But on the bright side, he had a really good night. An amazing night, actually. He woke up. Twice. Once for the nurse, once for me.”

Koen frowns.

“What?”

“He woke up?”

Esme nods. “The first time, Julie...his night nurse…said he woke up and wanted to know who the hell she was and that he asked for me. And he even told her he was feeling sick and she gave him some meds for it.”

“Hmm…”

“Second time, he opened his eyes and looked right at me. Told me to not cry. He said he wasn’t in any pain and that he was just tired. And he asked if the baby was okay and he said he loved me. It was amazing; to see him open his eyes and hear his voice.”

“Are you sure? That this happened?”

“What do you mean am I sure? Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Thought the doctor said they weren’t going to bring him out sedation for a few days? At least.”

“Julie said it isn’t uncommon; moments of wakefulness and some lucidity. It’s just sedation, it’s not a medically induced coma like last time.”

“He actually woke up? After everything he went through during the day? All the surgeries, the amount of meds they’re pushing into him? He opened his eyes and talked to you?”

“That’s exactly what happened. Why are you questioning it? I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“I’m not saying you’re lying. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were hallucinating from lack of sleep.”

“I wasn’t dreaming and I wasn’t seeing things. He woke up, looked at me, and talked to me. It happened. It was real.”

“Esme, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe it was wishful thinking on your part and…”

“It happened,” she insists. “I was there. I witnessed it.”

“And I was there in that storage and in that van. I know what kind of shape he was in; I know how close he was to lights out. Permanently. And you’re telling me, after all the injuries, all the surgeries, all the meds, he just woke up? The same day?”

“I know it sounds crazy. And I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me either. But I SAW it. With my own two eyes. And you know how tough he is; how damn stubborn he is. Does it really surprise you that of all the people who would fight THIS hard, it’s Tyler? You know him; you know how strong he is. You know he’d do anything for me and the kids. So is that big of a stretch that he’d wake up like that? Even if it was just to give me some hope?”

Koen sighs.

“He woke up AND he talked to me. And you know what? It was incredible and made me feel better; to know his brain is working and that he’s not giving up. I needed that; some kind of sign that he’s going to be okay And he gave it to me.”

“So why isn’t he awake now?” Koen challenges.

“Maybe he used up all his energy last night and he needs to build it back up again.”

“If he’s got it in him to wake up last night, he should be awake right now. I’ve got some shit to say to him for scaring me as bad as he did. How come he’s not up now and talking to me?”

“I don’t know. I only know what happened last night. I only know…”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you,” Tyler’s voice -weak, groggy, and slightly slurred by the effects of medication- pipes up. “Now shut the fuck up. You’re given me a headache.”

“See!” Esme smiles triumphantly. “I told you.”

****

When she returns from taking a much needed shower, she finds Rata outside Tyler’s room tightly clutching a gift bag from the shop in the front lobby and pacing at a near frantic rate. It’s odd to see him this way, clearly frazzled and nervous shoulders tense; chewing on his bottom lip and occasionally stopping and peering into the room. Normally he’s the ‘life of the party’; clueless in an adorable way, always acting far less intelligent than he actually is just to get a laugh. Possessing an air of confidence without an ounce of cockiness; quick with sarcastic comments and witty comebacks. The ‘uncle’ that always sits at the kids’ tables during Christmas dinner and then helps build lego sets and put together toy car race tracks instead of socializing with the adults.

“Hey you,” she warmly greets, and lays a comforting hand on his back. “You okay?”

He responds by wrapping her in a huge; strong, muscular arms noticeably trembling.

“You alright?” Esme asks, as she runs her hands up and down his biceps. “You don’t look so good. What’s going on?”

“I don’t like hospitals much. Especially a place like THIS in a hospital. Where people are really bad. EXTRA bad.”

“He’s a lot better than anyone thought he would be. Especially so soon And he doesn’t look THAT awful, I swear. He’s even waking up for a little bits at a time. A person who is ‘extra bad’, wouldn't be doing that, would they?”

“I just don’t know if I can go in there just yet. I mean, I was there. Yesterday. In the van. I saw what he was like; how bad he was. And I’ve never seen Tyler like that. I’ve seen him shot a couple times during our tours in the Middle East, but those were nothing. Just flesh wounds, you know? But that? Yesterday? Those weren’t just flesh wounds. And by the time he got back home seven years ago…”

“He was already somewhat on his feet and in rehab.”

Rata nods. “He was almost back to himself. It’s going to be a long while before he gets back to himself this time.”

“Yesterday was pretty awful, huh?

He releases a small, shaky sigh. “Wasn’t so much how he looked. All the blood and what not. I mean, that was bad, don’t get me wrong. It was fucking awful. Pardon my language.”

“I hear and say worse all the time. You don’t have to filter yourself around me. You’ve met my husband, right? You can’t be easily offended AND stay married to him. It just won’t work.”

“It was terrible. A fucking nightmare. To see a friend of yours THAT messed up. But the worst part? It was what he SOUNDED like. When he was talking to you. I’ve never heard him sound like that. Ever.”

“Neither have I,” she admits. “Not seven years ago, not even the two times he tried to...well, you know. He never sounded like THAT.”

“Like he was going to die.”

“Yesterday I tried telling myself he didn’t sound that way. That he was just tired and scared and in pain and he just needed it to end. I convinced myself that he didn’t sound THAT bad. Near death. Now I realize I was just trying to make myself feel better, know what I mean?”

Rata nods.

“He was a lot closer to it than I want to admit. I thought nothing could be worse than seven years ago. I was so wrong.”

“It was what he said to you. How he said it. He was pretty sure he was never going to see you again. That’s the only thing he was really scared of; the thought of not getting to be with you anymore. You and the kids. You’re his entire world. I didn’t think I realized how much he loves you all until I heard the things that came out of his mouth. Opened my eyes; made me see him a different way. A good way, just different. He’s lucky. He’s got someone that loves him as much as he loves them. That’s something I think we all want but never seem to find.”

“Sometimes I wonder what I ever did right to deserve him,” she confesses. “And he’s here because of you guys. You and Koen. You did whatever you had to go get him here alive. So thank you. I know it wasn’t easy; what you had to see and do. I was there myself. Seven years ago. I know how hard it is.”

“I feel like such a dick. For not being able to go in there. Like a total pussy.”

“You’re not any of those things. People handle stuff like this in different ways. But you should go in there. He’s really not that bad. And he was awake and talking a bit to Koen. I don’t know if he still is, but I do know he’d like to see you. I know how much he appreciates what you did to help him. I’ll go in with you if that would help.”

“It would. A bit. But first,” he offers the gift bag. “ I have something for you. And the baby.”

“The baby won’t be here for months. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Just a little something.”

She reaches into the bag, smiling at the stuffed tiger that she pulls out of its confines. “How did you remember the tradition? Every Rake baby gets a stuffed animal?”

“Just something that stuck with me, I guess.”

“It’s adorable. Thank you. Better not let Millie get a hold of it. That girl and her stuffed animals, I swear. You didn't have to do this. You didn’t…” her voice trails off, fingers reaching for the familiar object tied to the ribbon around the tiger’s neck. Eyes narrowed at first, then slowly widening when the realization sets in it. “Where did you find this? Where…?”

“I didn’t find it. Tyler gave it to me. Before we got to the storage place. He asked me to give it to you if something went wrong.”

“He did?” Esme unties the thin piece of fabric, sliding the ring off of it and then cradling it in her palm.

“He wanted me to make sure you got it. If he didn’t make it. Said it was important that you got it.”

“I thought it was lost,” her voice cracks with emotion. “I thought maybe he took it off beforehand and put it in his pocket and it fell out. Or that the ER staff misplaced it. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.”

“I should have given it to you right away. Yesterday. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying because of what you did or didn’t do. I thought it was gone. Forever. And I know it’s not much; it’s not expensive or fancy or anything like that. But it’s his. All the dents and scratches that he’s on it over the years. Sounds weird, but they all mean something. I really thought I’d never see it again. And I didn’t think I’d be as torn about it as I was. But it killed me inside; when I couldn’t find it. It felt like a piece of him was gone and I was just waiting for all the other pieces to disappear too. Thank you; you have no idea how much this means to me. To have this back.”

She hooks the handle of the bag around her wrist, then reaches around to the nape of her neck and removes the necklace -the custom made piece with the beach glass Millie had found- and slips the ring onto the chain.

“I’ll do it,” Rata offers, and steps behind her. Large fingers clumsy and struggling at first, but then manage to secure the clasp.

Esme lays a palm over the ring, firmly pressing it into her chest. Feeling the smooth, cool metal with its many imperfections, the familiar weight of it against her. And the relief that simple piece of jewellery brings is profound, stifling sobs with both of her hands as she turns and tightly embraces her friend.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fiction

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Text

Bite my Tongue

Pairing: Blossom x Butch (blossutch)

Fandom: PowerPuff Girls

Words: 6027

So I had this idea a while ago and suddenly i was struck with inspiration. This is probably the longest one shot ive done and im actually really proud of this so please be nice and show some love! Im sorry to everyone not in the fandom and just waiting for me to get off the ppg high but ahahhahah no. Anyways i hope you enjoy.

----

Blossom was never one to shout out her opinions. She always thought them through before letting others know what she had to say. She took into consideration every perspective and point of view and if it was a question relying heavily on morals, she had already decided the right answer in her head. She was bold but never brash, unlike Buttercup who would jump straight into anything and figure out the ending later. Even Bubbles’s heavy heart could cloud her judgement at times, Blossom tried to be the one to even out the score.

She could hold her tongue if she didn't agree because it was too much of a headache to correct every single person, she wanted to, but she knew her limits. She was an extremely educated woman. She taught herself how to read and do basic math days after she was “born”. She graduated top of her class in every school, preschool, elementary, middle and high school where she had to unfortunately share the top spot with Brick who had the same exact GPA as her down to the 11th decimal point. Yes, they checked that far.

She went to an elite college and worked her way into a PHD for Organic Chemistry, Marine Biology and even Law. No one knew more than her, except maybe Brick, but that was still up for debate because she graduated one week before him. They had a conjoined party and they spent most of the night debating. Most people thought they hated each other but they had a really close bound like siblings.

The moral of her life is that she knew best. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it and if she didn’t she would find a way. It’s what made her such a determined and born leader. No matter the situation being a group project for English class or a monster fight, the calculations in her head were ready and thought through before leaving her mouth.

And if she ever did yell or scream without thinking, it would only be a millisecond before she had facts to prove her point.

However she didn’t know how much of a loose cannon she would be when it came to her boyfriend. The notorious ex villain RowdyRuff Boy Butch. Aka the most unsuitable man for Blossom Utonium according to every single person's unhelpful opinion.

She remembers when the feelings arose during high school. For some reason he had come to her for help on his mid terms. Of course she was more than happy to help and she wondered if it was because he liked to tease her or to get under his brother's skin. Whatever the case, she happily agreed.

“I love doing charity work.” She said smugly and the dark green eyes looked at her before making her blush from the stare.

“Damn Pink, no need to be harsh.” His voice was light and she was thankful he didn’t see it as a threat. She liked that she could joke with him because if she had said that to Brick, let’s just say another argument would break out.

Weeks passed by as she would spend lunch and after school time with him studying. She didn’t know when he looked so peaceful when doing his homework or how much she truly enjoyed his company. They would go to small cafes or sit in the park with their worksheets spread around them.

There was this small feeling deep within her heart that she hadn’t quite known. She thought she was getting sick or light headed but the pressure built up as she heard him laugh. She left that day and spent the rest of the night quietly staring at the ceiling, her mind for once empty as she didn’t know what to say or do.

It was one of the first moments that she didn’t think through. It was a sudden loose thought and she ran with it. Her heart screamed at her after he came running up to her after fall break to show her that he had gotten high scores on his exams. His smile was breathtaking and she spun her around, flying them into the air before setting them back down. Those few seconds in the sky as he held her close and genuinely laughed made her have a heartfelt thought.

Her feet landed on the ground and she was thankful that they were alone because while he was rambling on and on about how she helped him, she wrapped her fingers around the strings of his hoodie and pulled him close before crashing her lips against his.

He wasted no time kissing her back. His lips were unbelievably soft and she had kissed others before but for some reason, this felt right. Her clouded judgement of whether she should have done this or not washed away when they pulled apart and he stared at her with wide eyes and an even wide smirk.

“I’m proud of you Butch.” Her fingers were still around his hoodie but he made no intention to move out of her grasp. “In fact you can thank me by taking me out on Saturday.”

To say they were both surprised was an understatement. His smirk somehow got bigger and she swore that she picked up on the blush on his cheeks and there was no doubt that her face was matching his.

He said nothing but continued to stare and she suddenly felt like she read all the signs wrong. Maybe the shoulder touches and the knees touches weren’t what she thought. Maybe the light flirting and the teasing was just that, a joke. Maybe, oh her head was now racing. She knew better than to run all the options and pros and cons of each situation.

She had a hand on her waist before she was pulled closed. Her hands now flat against his chest, she didn’t even know she had looked away from him.

“You’re cute when you think too much.” So he saw those gears always turning in her head. The concentration on her face was mostly present throughout the day, the inner superhero in her. “Saturday it is Pink.” He whispered and she closed her eyes as his lips fell on hers again. Her mind now at ease.

The moment the world heard about their dating, which started in high school mind you, the news exploded. Time after time they asked why she didn’t date her counterpart and time and time again she would say “Because I don’t want to”. Which was true. There was no spark between them like that. Brick had taken eyes for the joy and the laughter sister while Boomer was busy swooning over the toughest fighter, she was happy for them. Everyone was happy for those pairs.

But Butch and Blossom received the most criticism. They understood the dynamic between the scary bad boy and the sweetest girl to walk the earth and the relationship between the best damn sports girl and the best damn musician. The dynamic of the perfectionist and the far from perfect was not everyone's cup of tea.

At first she was annoyed. She would shoot reporters cold glares and say that her personal life was her business only. She never let Butch know how much it hurt her when people would talk down about them together. She would always be chipper around him and make sure that he always felt loved by her, she would hate to make him feel bad because of what stupid reporters would say.

Luckily for Butch he genuinely couldn’t care less what the press thought. He spent his entire life being hounded down for his behavior and has taught himself to let things just roll off his shoulders, he had super powers, what did they have? Nothing.

And although he could let things slide, he saw it in her eyes one day when they were hanging out. The nice summer's day was interrupted by an attack from a brutal monster. The girls saved the day as usual and as she landed and went to talk to the police, an interview got in her way. The man said something about her being better than her boyfriend and how she could allow herself to date someone who was a villain. It wasn’t even the worst comment she had received, but her body ached and all she wanted to do was curl up into her bed and cry.

Without thinking she turned and used her ice breath, freezing his camera and making it shatter to the ground.

“I think they are the cutest.” Bubbles said behind her and she was thankful that her sisters supported her. They were all in the same boat after all.

Buttercup passed the guy too and shot a glare. “That’s my counterpart so saying shit like that is insulting to me buddy.” The man began shaking as the threat came from her. Buttercup never liked to use the ‘counterpart term’ but she would if it meant defending her sister and her best friend.

Her sisters saw that strong exterior crumble. They have had their fair share of comments but watching Blossom slightly shake and bite her quivering lip as she flew home made them both sad. Bubbles wrapped her arms around her and Buttercup kissed the top of her head while texting the green eyed boy to call his girl.

She almost didn’t pick up the phone when he called. But eventually he got her to sit on the edge of an abandoned building's roof, one of their many secret spots. He sat next to her, arm over her shoulder as he held her. Her tears came as a surprise and he let her use his shirt to soak up her pain.

“It isn’t fair.” She whispered as she held his hand.

“I know.” he kissed her head.

“It's okay if you’re done.” She cried. “I understand.” She began to move away from him. Ashamed that she had let all these people say these terrible things about him. It wasn’t fair and he deserved better. They had only been dating for about two months, she would be okay.

It's happened before. All her past relationships had left because they couldn’t take the heat and she would try to tell them that it wouldn’t matter, because it didn’t. But for this one, it hurt. She wanted to be able to say that she wasn’t affected by the press, she wasn’t before so why now? She had become numb to paparazzi in the past but every since they practically hounded Butch every chance they got, she was afraid.

She was frightened to acknowledge that it was all wrong. Before accepting any of her other boyfriends, she had a day or two to think about it. How would they act? What would dates be? All those things played over and over in that massive mind space but this was completely blind. She had stopped thinking around him, not literally but in the means that she didn’t have to and she liked that.

But she was now looking at the consequence of it all. Butch, who has done so much to clean up his reputation with his brothers and become civilized as much as possible, he still would fight with BC constantly but there was nothing she could do about that. He deserves someone better. Someone who wasn’t stuck up and held their head too high for anyone to touch her crown, not that she believed she did that but that's what the rumors said. Bossy Blossy as they say.

It wasn’t fair to make him suffer. Not when his brothers got off easy. Brick was somehow adored by the press when he did something so little as smile at Bubbles and Boomer was the golden boy as he opened doors for Buttercup. But Butch, no. When the cameras captured them together, Blossom was always laughing and yet, they still said he was no match.

So when he grabbed her arm gently and pulled her to his chest. She was surprised when she felt the tears drip onto her shoulders. She looked into those green eyes she grew so fond of, they were a great color, and saw them brimming with matching tears.

That was something she adored about him. He was naturally so tough and rough and felt the most confident with dirt caked on his face and blood dripping from the scraps. And then there was this side. The delicate and softness that no one thought he could have. The way he touched her and talked, he was always so sweet with her.

“Blossom.” He rarely used her name. It was always pet names and endearments but when he did use her name it was for the sake of love and pain, almost like he had to save it for a special occasion. “You may not believe me but I do not give a single fuck about what those nobody's say.”

She sniffed as his thumb caught one of her tears. “Really?” Her voice was trying to regain its strength.

“Yes. Why would I? They say I don’t deserve you and sure I felt that way too, but then I remembered something.” He laughed a little which made her smile.

“What?” She sniffled.

“I remembered that I was dating Blossom Utonium. The girl who thinks everything through before diving in. She never once goes back on her promises and is so incredibly smart that she could do anything she sets her mind too. That's why I don’t worry because if you decided that I am worthy of dating you, then why would those people mean anything? You are already enough and every time I get to kiss you, for fucks sake Pink, it all washes away. So let them say shit because I have all the proof I need.”

“You always know what you want Butch. That's what I admire about you.”

“So do you. Maybe sometimes you just need to stop and smell the roses.”

“How sweet.” She kissed his cheek which was now fully dried of tears.

“Only for you Pink.”

As years passed Blossom learned how to bite her tongue more. He taught her to not give, as he said, a single fuck and no one dared to talk about them unless it was with praise. Blossom really did try but a Reds ' patience could only go so far. Whenever someone insulted Bubbles, her husband would not hesitate to snap on them, she understood completely. Maybe that's why having a boyfriend who was cool and calm and just went with the flow was perfect. She could get fired up and he would simply cool her down.

On the flip side, once you made a green mad, it was over and she knew better than to try and stop him. She may have enjoyed watching her boyfriend and sister beat the shit outta nasty reporters a little too much.

She could only take so much and today was proving it.

She was a lawyer and even though her office was filled with highly educated people, she was stuck in the back corner with three other girls who were only there as personal assistants. Then again she was only here temporarily due to her private office being constructed upstairs. Yes, she was that good.

She couldn’t wait to have her own space. It would be nice to have a quiet place to work and if there was an emergency involving robots or monsters, her office had the perfect balcony to fly from so that she wouldn’t disturb her coworkers. But she hated being in that corner.

In the last hour as she was finishing filing all of her neatly done paperwork, the conversation went from lip injections, the new outlet shops, the hottest men in really expensive underwear and now the topic of the ever so light gender bias was upon these ladies.

“Did you see what happened with the actress from the giant squid film?” Haley said. “She got engaged and she was the one to propose to him.” The other two girls gasped as they fixed their nails.

“I just don’t think that women should be allowed to ask her boyfriend to marry her. A man should propose.” The uptight blonde, Peggy said.

“Absolutely not.” Gertrude said. “What do you think Blossom?” All eyes were now on her and she rolled her own before turning in her chair. She felt a headache coming on.

“I don’t see the problem.” She simply stated as she filed another paper neatly. “Good for them.”

“You don’t think it's wrong?”

“Nope.” She didn’t have time for this; she was trying to find her stapler.

All eyes turned to her as the other women who shared the space scoffed. “I highly doubt that your boyfriend would let you.” Gertrude said. Where was it?

Blossom’s left eye twitched and now she turned in her chair to see their faces. “My boyfriend?” She asked with a scolding tone. Fuck the stapler.

“Butch?” Haley scoffed. “Oh he is too prideful to let even Blossom propose. I mean face it Blossom, you are this big successful woman who saves the world and is crazy smart. All he does is listen to your commands. You already wear the pants in the relationship so you should agree that he should be able to make at least this decision.”

The sound of Blossom slamming her filing cabinet echoed through the office. If her man taught her one thing, it was to let the comments slide, but this, this was unacceptable. She had been through the tabloids, the paparazzi and her own “friends” questioning the integrity and well being of Butch. If he could see her rage boiling, he would have told them to “fuck off” and wrap his arm around her shoulder before they went and got smoothies.

But he wasn’t here. She didn’t need him here to defend herself. She let that lid that was secured on her anger to screw loose and fly off. These women could criticize her all they wanted, but not her boyfriend, she wouldn’t allow it.

“My boyfriend is a successful teacher. So he may not have the same degrees as me but he loves teaching his students and also fights to save this city and your sorry asses.”

She turned to them before grabbing her purse. Her stare was as ice cold as the power that trembled in her blood. She never used her power as intimidation against people around her but the way her palms sparked with a hot pink temper, made the ladies shut their lips.

“Before you dare say anything about him, just know one thing. He has done more things in his life than you will ever. He may not be passionate about the same things as me but that does not make him any less of a man or any worthy of dating me. If you are going to slander his name, do it when I am not here because if you saw how much he cares about me, you would be begging to be the one dating him. He is capable of doing whatever he pleases and unlike your failed excuse of a boyfriend Gertrude, his masculinity wouldn’t crumble if I were to ask him to marry me.”

The women were speechless as she turned and watched her walk away.

Blossom could bite her tongue. She could be professional. She could be the perfect everything nice and fake a smile if needed. But she would and always be Butch’s biggest cheerleader. She was proud of him beyond belief when he got his bachelors in forensics science. He went on to help police officers in the labs and two years later got his teaching credentials and taught students about the mess of a murder scene. He loved it. And she loved how happy he was.

So yes, Blossom could bite her tongue, but she could smack a bitch too. Princess Morbucks knew that first hand and had stopped commenting on her relationship.

He heard the door slam with a loud shut and was thankful that he had installed those heavy duty door frames. The amount of heat literally sparking from her body was almost threatening to say the least as she set her bag on the table and he threw one of the glass figures they had on the coffee table into the air and she blasted it with a powerful force from her palm.

He grabbed the small vacuum cleaner and grabbed the glass to make sure it didn’t stay there long. It was a nice routine they had. Get angry, break a glass figure and then drink wine. It worked to say the least.

“Rough day babe?” He asked before setting the vacuum down and walking to their wine cabinet and pulling out two glasses.

She was pacing in the kitchen. That was his sign of knowing that she was about to say something he was going to disagree with or love. He was hoping it was love because watching her all fired up made him slightly tingly and there was nothing better than seeing his lady in control.

She didn’t look at the wine glass placed in front of her. Instead she kept pacing back and forth and he sat on the bar stool and watched. He knew better than to interfere with her thoughts. If she couldn’t think it through, then there was no point. The only time she didn’t run through things is when she kissed him that high school day, he loved that day.

“Blossy?” He asked a minute later and she stopped and looked at him.

Her eyebrows were knit together and she held this look of uncertainty in her eyes, a rare scene. Those vibrant pink iris sparkled as the sunset came through the window. He wanted to say something coy but he also knew when to bite his tongue, she taught him that.

“Would you be threatened if a woman proposed?” She asked.

He was taken back from the question. His shoulders now tensed up but he dropped them quickly as he thought about it. He took a swig of his wine glass and shrugged. “I thought a man was supposed to do that?”

She bit her lip before sighing and grabbing her glass. He thought again for a moment before talking again. “But then again, what's the big deal? I mean if you love them, then it shouldn’t matter who asks.”

She nodded. “I agree.” Her shoulders visibly untensed and she leaned her elbows on the counter before rubbing her head.

“Is that what's bothering you?” He asked before filling her empty glass.

“It's just-” She took a sip. “The stupid women at the office. They said that a man should never allow a woman to be in control of that. That made me angry but then they said you would never let that happen. That I am always in control of you and you should be allowed to make at least that decision.” She felt a chill go through her body as she avoided his gaze. “You don’t think I am controlling, right?”

He made a combination of a snort scoff thing and just rolled his eyes at the statement. “No, you are a leader, Brick is controlling.” She rolled her eyes. “That's a fact.” He pointed out.

“It's just sometimes-” He saw that look in her eyes and interrupted her.

“No, no, no. Don’t do that.” He stood. “Don’t let those nasty hoes have that power over you. So you might have more degrees than me, big whoop. But I’m not some helpless guy who clings onto the success of his girlfriend, that's Boomer’s job.” She ignored the jab at his brother.

“But do you-”

“Blossom.” He came around and lifted her chin up to meet his eyes. “I am so incredibly happy so please don’t worry. Plus.” He stepped closer to her and pulled her close. “When have I ever been one to complain about being controlled by you?” His eyes narrowed and she blushed. “I think it’s hot.” She slapped his arm playfully and buried her face in his chest.

“Those women are dumb.” Her voice was muffled by his shirt.

“Yeah they are. Now have some wine, I’ll be right back.” He left her as he walked into their shared bedroom.

She took a seat at the high counter and grabbed her glass. She popped open the cork and tried to calm down. It wasn’t fair. Neither of them had the upper hand in the relationship. It was never about sizing up the other one, it was equal. Maybe in certain cases she got her way and he got his and maybe, just maybe, she knew how to persuade him. It wasn’t hard considering she could grab his attention with just the removal of her shirt, but that's besides the point.

She grabbed her glass again and chugged. What did those women know anyways? Nothing, that's what.

He came back a few minutes later and sat next to her. Their knees touched as he grabbed his own glass.

“Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating?” He asked.

She raised her brow. “That you wanted to see what was under my skirt?”

His face flushed red as he almost choked on his wine. “No-no.”

“Really because when I asked you out you said and I quote.” She puffed out her chest. “Damn Pinky, I’d be more than happy to be your man because I’ve been dying to see those legs and what's under that skirt.” She said in a deep mocking voice.

“That wasn’t what I said the day you asked me out though”

She giggled. “Maybe, but you said that on our first date.”

“And you let me see.” He said in a cocky tone and she pursed her lips and looked to the side.

“Touche”

He let out a laugh. “But that's not what I meant.” She looked at him and crocked her head to the side.

“Then what?”

“I told you that if you decided that you loved me, that was all the proof I ever needed.”

That small laugh that bubbled from her lips made him smile. She looked at him before nodding her head.

“And not to care what anyone thinks.” she finished and he nodded before leaning over and kissing her forehead.

“Exactly.” He smirked before plopping something down on the counter. She looked towards it with confusion before he pushed it her way. “Go on, open it.”

She took the item in her hands. A soft plush box with a simple golden latch. She knew what it was instantly. Sure they had talked about marriage, they have been together for so long that some people just assumed they had secretly gotten married. They once spent a weekend in Vegas and drunk Blossom said that the 24 hour chapel was just across the street.

She’s thankful that slightly less drunk Butch carried her to the hotel room instead. Marriage has been talked about in serious times and not so serious but at the end of the day, it was something they both wanted.

The top opened and she stared at the giant diamond ring. It’s sharp fragments sparkled in the light and she felt a tug in her throat. “Butch.”

“You care so much what people think, don’t give me that look. I’m right and you know it.” He stated and she continued to look at the precious stone set on a silver band. “But I also know that you love proving people wrong and challenging the odds.”

“I don’t understand.”

The box was set down and her hands were now in his. “When you are ready, I want you to ask me to marry you.” He said simply.

Tears came from her eyes as she looked between him and the ring. “But-”

“But what? It doesn’t matter who asks who. I love you so fucking much that I would be an honor to be asked by you. Imagine turning down the hottest, smartest and bravest woman in the universe. I could never.” he winked.

Her head turned towards the ring and he could see the gears in her head turning. He waited for her answer and was curious about how she would react. He loved that about her. She was constantly full of surprises even when planning it all out.

He grabbed the box and held it to her. “Or if you would like, I would love to ask you to marry me.”

She took the box from him hesitantly. It was a rare sight to see her so unsure of herself. She placed it onto the counter before sliding into his lap and hugging him. “Thank you.” She whispered and his arms came around and tightened around her. “I love you too.”

“Of course Bloss.” He kissed her softly. He stood after they pulled apart and lifted her up with ease. “Now I’m going to show you who's in control.” He whispered into her ear as she let out a giggle.

——

It was a few months later before it happened. She suggested a day trip to anywhere he wanted and she remembered how excited he was about the new beach opening. The warm sun of their skins as they walked down the boardwalk and enjoyed the simple company of each other. It was perfect.

They sat on the beach, the wild crowds had fizzled out leaving them in a quiet bliss as the sunset that was a mix of pinks and oranges sat on the horizon.

She turned towards him and smiled at him. She reached into her bag and he laughed a little.

“Proposal on a beach with a magical sunset? Little cliche even for you.” She only rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Perhaps.” She moved until she was kneeling next to him and placed a box in his hand. She ushered him to open it and it was the same diamond ring set on a silver band, the one he gave her.

“Or maybe it’s a rejection.” He forced out a laugh as her eyes widened in horror.

“No!” She quickly made him get rid of the thought. Instead she held out her own matching box.

The latch popped open and inside was a silver wedding band.

“You told me that you would love for me to ask you, but I’ve always wanted you to ask me. And I thought about it for a long time and instead of it being one of us.” She grabbed his hand. “Why not both of us?”

“So we both propose?” He looked at the pair of rings and back up to her. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

“Alright then.” She bit her lip. Why was she so nervous? It was Butch after all, they had been together for over seven years. She wanted it to be perfect. This moment to be captured just like the movies.

She felt a hand go on her leg and she was pulled out of her trace of thinking. He sat smiling at her and she felt a little embarrassed at how she always got lost in her head.

“Why don’t I start?” He said and she nodded. “Well my love. I spent most of my life thinking no one would ever give a damn about me and when i met you, well it was true since i did try to kill you.” He laughed and she only shook her head with a giggle. “I'm not good with words and you know that so bare with me babe.”

“Anyways when I grew up and got my act together, there was always this blinding light around you. My attention was your the moment I saw you again in middle school. I was always you but I couldn't approach you. I wasn’t worthy of loving you until I became someone I wanted to be. I was so nervous asking you for help that day. Brick told me not to bother but your smile, that damn smile Pink, you were so kind and I just wanted to kiss you right then and there.” He smiled.

“But you know all that.” He huffed. “Ya know people always asked me what my favorite thing about you was. I mean how do you answer that? How do you tell them that everything from her selflessness and bold personality, down to her eyes and her freckles that only show during summer. You can’t. Blossom, you believed in me when no one else did, not even myself and that what i love about you. You never give up and you make people feel safe and cherish. Plus you are so incredibly hot that I could just take you here right now and-you aren't stopping me? You usually stop me when I’m about to say something nasty.”

“It's a special occasion.” She shrugged. “But yeah tell me later.” She winked and he took her hand.

“What I'm trying to say, Blossom, is that I love you. Every up and down is going to have me next to you without hesitation. So Dr.Blossom Utonium.” She smirked at the use of her title. “Would you give me the chance to become the hottest wife the world has seen and allow me to love you for as long as I breath?”

He watched as tears formed in her eyes. “The hottest wife in the world?” She cried-laughed and he wiggled the ring.

“The hottest.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” She kissed him and he placed the ring on her finger.

She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, trying not to ruin her makeup. “Okay my turn.” She grabbed the ring.

“I always know what to do or say but when it comes to you, im left speechless every time. Sometimes I feel like I never know the answer or I'm somehow wrong but if there is one thing I am certain about every single time it's you. My heart guides me without fail and it has always ended up in your hands. Time after time as my sisters were talking about marriage as kids, mostly Bubbles of course.”

“Of course.” He chimed in.

“I wouldn’t add much to the conversation. To be honest, I never thought I would get married, or that anyone would love me. Because no matter who I dated, I was always Blossom. Leader of the Powerpuff Girls and the stuck up smarty pants.” She stopped before taking his hand. “And then I remember when you asked me to tutor you. Those feelings I thought I would never experience happened. You never saw me as the leader, maybe in theory but I was an equal to you and I think that's why it hurt so much when people talked bad about you.” She frowned before sniffing and looking up towards the sky.

“I was already so in love with you as a teen and I didn’t know how people wouldn't adore you that it made me mad. All I ever wanted was for someone to see me as me, and you do.” Her eyes came back down and he was crying. “So Butch Jojo. Will you marry me?” She smiled.

There was no hiding the tears as he held her hand and was practically shaking. “I love you so much Blossom, I can’t even tell you.” He hugged her tightly before kissing her breathlessly. Her own eyes shutting as tears fell and she threw her arms around him and her fingers threaded through his hair. “Yes of course I’ll marry you.” The words were lost on her lips.

The sunset behind them stared at each other and basked in the bliss of being in love. Anyone could say what they want, but there was no denying that the pair loved each other beyond belief.

Blossom could bite her tongue, but she would never stop herself from telling Butch how much she loved him. That was something she could count on.

I hope you enjoyed it!!

#ppg x rrb #powerpuff girls #blossutch #blossom x butch #ppg fanfic #thewritingstar #idk how to tag #ppg #rrb

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