#i just cannot always respond even within a few days so there’s no need to assume i will not spot it if i don’t do so right away!

[rin-spotted]

hello hello! rin-spotted here!!

i want to apologize to the lovely people who have been tagging me and sending me art lately for not queueing their posts yet, things have been busy in real life… i am only human and cannot spot rins every day without the help of a queue, so if i do not spot your tags right away, please be patient! i assure you that i have seen it and it will be spotted when i am available!

thank you for reading! (๑•́ω•̀)ノﾞ

[andreas-river]

Bullied!Reader gained the Courage to come to The 141 boys + König knowing they are all a scary bunch and of Commanding rank to hopefully stop the bullying they were experiencing for a bit. They feel guilty for being a Solider who couldn’t handle it by themselves, but they beg for their help despite it.

“ I didn’t want it to come to this…I swear…I just don’t know what else to do…”

TW: bullying, mention of misoginy, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, fem!reader.

A/N: hello Anon, thanks for your request, sorry it took so long. I decided to write it without separating the characters, I think it makes the idea better like this!

Disclaimer: Too many people are bullied, and sadly it happens too often, and I have fallen into this deep hole myself. It can be both physical and psychological, and it is an devius but unforgiving form of violence. I hope this can give comfort to those who need it: asking for help IS NOT a form of weakness, sometimes even talking about it with a trusted person can make a difference.

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Asking for help is one of the hardest things in the world. Admitting that we cannot do it on our own with our own strength is like a display of vulnerability that not everyone allows themselves to do: there are to many sharks around, and they are all out for blood.

But every day it was getting harder and harder, and it was almost embarrassing knowing the context in which you had been living for many years. Numerous missions made you used to the horrors of a military life, and the sight of blood had not affected you for a long time. You don't remember exactly how or when it started, but the stares of the men around you became more and more insistent, not giving you any peace, voices murmuring in the hallways as you passed by when you might have just been on your way to the gym or Price's office to fill out the various papers and get them in order.

Fortunately, you shared the office with Soap and Ghost, and more recently, König, who had been temporarily reassigned to 1-4-1 for future missions. All three were certainly much better company than the other soldiers, between the various chats with Soap, Ghost's jokes – so awful they were actually funny – and König's charisma, it actually made the day better, at least for the hours spent at the desk.

The nightmare continued during the rest of the days, and with it grew the guilt within you: you never responded to all those comments that reached your ears – being a woman in the Task Force apparently was impossible, to the point of comments that made your skin crawl with disgust, nauseated at the very thought. You knew that you had worked hard to get where you were today, and that you had earned the rank of Sergeant on your own, with your own strength, always willing to give your all, even while doing chores around the base.

With a sigh, you had forced yourself to walk to your room, which was on the opposite side of the offices, knowing that you would pass anyone who would murmur about you, after all, it was just after dinner and the corridors were much more crowded than usual.

As expected, the stares didn't take long to arrive, and a few murmurs began to reach your ears. Quickening your pace, you found yourself panting in front of the door to your room – literally running away from all those people, feeling like you had no choice. The thought brought tears to your eyes, but you had no other choice.

-

Since you woke up, every movement around you put you on edge, the day started like any other, but the knowledge of admitting something like this made you nervous. You were sure they would understand, as they often asked if you were okay, checking up on you as a family. A strange one, but one of the best.

As you walked into your office like any other day, you found Ghost and Soap talking, both greeting you as you entered the room. You waited silently for them to finish their conversation, distractedly listening to the fact that they wanted to change some exercises about the training, sneaking closer to them, still wondering if it was the right choice – you were literally the same rank as Soap – and you handled worse situations better than this one, where your life or others were at stake.

You were so deep in your own thoughts that it took you some time to realize that both men were trying to get your attention, and you snapped back to reality when the door to the office burst open, revealing the tall and looming figure of König.

Soap placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently with a warm smile on his face, "Hey – are you okay?"

You took a deep breath and felt König's presence at your side. You had a knot in your throat and you hoped not to stutter too much with your voice. "Yeah, I mean - kinda." The three men frowned, a bit confused by your behaviour in front of them. "I... don't know what else to do. I swear, I..."

The knot threatened to break at any moment, and you weren't so sure you wouldn't cry in front of your squadmates. "Every time I leave this office to just go somewhere, everyone starts talking–" you swallowed the luno in your throat again, feeling on the verge of tears. "They murmur about me, even disgusting things, and I know they aren't the truth, but now it happens every single day, every single moment I spend outside my room or this office–"

"Hey, hey, slow down..." Soap blocked you and made you sit down, Ghost still watching intently as König handed you a tissue, blinking and noticing that you were really crying. "Since when?"

Blowing your nose, you managed to mumble "a few weeks", letting the room fall silent after your words, except for your own stiffles, until Ghost resumed the conversation. "For today, you'll stay here and help Soap. König, you are with me today."

They all looked into each other's eyes in silent agreement, leaving you alone with the Scottish man. "They'll take care of everything, okay?" he hugged you gently, and you finally felt the weight off your shoulders, enough to allow you to breathe a little more.

-

Walking down the hall to breakfast felt strange, there was so much silence and fewer people, it felt so different when you spotted the others sitting at a table, you walked towards them with your coffee and found a place between Gaz and Ghost, with the others around.

"Sleep well?" Ghost murmured, leaning in your direction. For a moment you couldn't answer – there was so much silence that the atmosphere felt unreal. "Yeah, but... what happened?"

Price smiled as Ghost answered you. "There were... training changes."

You stared back at him, absorbing his words. You've never experienced anything like this in your life, and everyone helped you so quickly that you didn't even realize it was happening. You thanked him, a warm smile on your face as you came back to sip your coffee, finally relieved as you realized this was the best decision you could have made.

[delzinrowe]

Aftermath - Kento Nanami

WORD COUNT: ~4.2K WARNINGS: Some minor & major alterations to Shibuya Arc! No Culling Games in this fic. Otherwise no serious warnings. F!Reader SUMMARY: Three days after the Shibuya Incident in the midst of the aftermath Y/N is trying to sort out her emotions and deal with what happened. A/N: Feedback is always appreciated! If you want to be tagged in upcoming fics/drabbles, please let me know!!! Thank you, and enjoy <3 Considering there are alterations to Shibuya: PLEASE, keep your replies/comments spoiler free, to ensure the unaltered enjoyment of other readers. Thank you!

Curses had claimed Shibuya. Half the district was gone, reduced to ashes and debris. Thousands of human lives were eradicated, leaving nothing but pain and emptiness in the hearts of those who miraculously survived the tragedy.

The remaining sorcerers tried their best to evacuate those who lived too close to the newly created wastelands of Tokyo. There was no telling how long it would take to get rid of all the curses, if that was even possible. Therefore saving and protecting all non-sorcerers had priority.

Within record time Y/N had scouted through the rackages in search of any survivors and brought them to Shoko for treatment. It was a tiring task, not only physically but mentally. Seeing the devastating destruction caused by Sukuna, Kenjaku and the countless curses truly took a toll on everyone.

All it took was a few hours to save all the survivors. But this small win was overshadowed by the carnage left behind. Every sorcerer had returned to the Tokyo Jujutsu High grounds, even the ones from Kyoto decided to stay. Considering the immediate threat posed by the countless curses roaming the streets it was the most logical decision for everyone to stay and aid the Tokyo sorcerers.

Many of the sorcerers made it their daily mission to eradicate as many curses as they possibly could, it was their way of dealing with the losses. Among those was Y/N. After the incident she focused all her attention on the vile creatures, spending every minute on the battlefield. As one of the teachers at Jujutsu High she had always made it her priority to keep everyone safe. If going on a rampage and killing curses left and right was the only way for her to ensure no one else would be hurt, so be it.

Just after killing the last of the evil spirits in front of her she fell to her knees. The exhaustion of the past few days took over her body, but she fought against it.

“You can’t keep going like this, Y/N.” Nanami Kento’s voice sounded from a bit further away, as his feet slowly carried him closer to her kneeling form. The blonde sorcerer seemed exhausted as well, carrying scars and injuries from the massacre days ago.

“Sure I can. I have to.” She responded, but her words didn’t hold as much strength as she had intended. And when she stood up she realised how much her body trembled.

“When was the last time you slept?” He inquired with this slightly disappointing tone that made her feel aggravated all too quickly.

“For your information I slept last night.” By now he was standing before her, watching with eagle eyes as she brushed the dirt off her clothes.

“How many hours?” His question earned him an eye-roll in response. Why did he feel the need to act like this right now when he knew the current situation better than anyone.

She refrained from answering, knowing fully well that in her agitated state she might say something spiteful or mean that she’d regret later on.

“You cannot keep this up.” His voice now held a more stern tone as he tried desperately to get through to her. However, the more he tried to reason with her the more she resisted.

“I’m not a child, Kento, I can take care of myself. Thank you.” She had never raised her voice at him like this before, but his nagging really was not what she needed right now. While she knew that it came from a good place, it fell on deaf ears. She had lost too many people, had watched close friends be slaughtered like pigs in front of her.

“Obviously you can’t!” He yelled back at her when she had already turned on her heel.

“You’re a teacher, don’t you think you should be a role model to your students?” Y/N couldn’t see it but she knew that he wore a pleading expression on his face, simply with the way his voice sounded almost desperate to get through to her.

“I am!” Was all she shouted back at him before walking further away, out of his field of vision. She had to get away from him right now even if she knew that he only meant well.

Didn’t he understand that she needed this? That she needed to exorcize as many curses as she could? That she needed to make these streets safer for everyone?

Nanami knew her better than anyone. And he knew that she needed this, but not ‘to make the streets safer’. Not because Exorcizing curses was the simple job of a sorcerer.

No. Y/N needed this for herself more than anything.

Once she had walked further away, when she was out of earshot, she once more collapsed, physically and mentally. She dropped to her knees, not caring that the tiny stones on the ground would leave marks on her knees even through her pants, and balled her hands into fists. She made no attempts in stopping the tears that started filling her eyes, eventually rolling down her cheeks and dropping onto the ruined ground, which once was a bustling street filled with life.

Minutes passed in which Y/N cried without a care in the word if anyone saw her. The overwhelming guilt she felt caused her chest to tighten and burn as if it was on fire.

“Survivor’s Guilt”, is what Shoko had called it when she patched up Y/N’s injuries. “It’s the belief that you did something wrong by surviving when others didn’t.”, she explained it further. Y/N knew that it wasn’t rational to feel like this, but what did that help when she was convinced on a deeply emotional level that by surviving she truly did do something wrong.

“It’s not fair. So many talented and skilled people died, but I survived. Why? It’s just not fair…” She had argumented, but Shoko was quick to smack the back of her head, effectively capturing her full attention. The healer had made it clear to her that she didn’t survive for nothing, that people still needed her. It was enough to give Y/N at least some mental strength, but as soon as she had left Shoko’s infirmary she fell into the habit of not eating, not sleeping and using all her time to hunt down every cursed spirit she could find.

Y/N wasn’t sure how much time had passed, it couldn’t have been more than half an hour, considering the sun was pretty much still at the same spot in the sky. She frankly didn’t care all too much about it either way.

After wiping lazily over her face she finally stood up, skillfully ignoring that her knees felt like dough and her legs trembled. It simply did not matter, she felt as if nothing mattered. At the same time everything mattered.

By now she deeply regretted snapping at Nanami, he was the least person to deserve that. He had always been some sort of role model to Y/N. His moral code in keeping children safe and not letting the youth experience any misery greatly inspired her to become a teacher at Jujutsu High.

She decided to apologise when she saw him next. He’d understand her, she was sure of it. For now she just wanted to get out of here. Her strength was decreasing due to lack of sleep and nutrition. As skilled and talented as she was, she wasn’t arrogant enough to believe she could take on multiple high grade curses in her current status.

Her walk back to the next operating public transportation wasn’t short, giving her plenty of time to think of the exact words she wanted to tell Nanami during her apology and how she’d explain herself. Even though she knew that his maturity wouldn’t expect her to explain anything. He surely knew how she felt. She guessed that he was ridden with the same form of guilt that plagued her mind and heart.

Y/N paid it no mind to the unamused glares and frowns of disapproval she received from strangers on the train. She knew that the blood stains and tears in her clothes were bound to attract the attention of non-sorcerers. Sometimes she’d even jump at the chance to horrify some particularly judgmental bystanders.

“Don’t worry, it’s not my blood.” She’d muse in an assuring tone of voice while showing a smile that seemed far too friendly. Every time, without exception, it would earn a wide-eyed stare.

However, today she was not in the mood to provoke anyone. She settled for mindlessly watching the passing landscape, it was all a blur to her unfocused eyes. Only when the mechanical voice announced the next stop was she ripped out of her thoughts. Due to a quick message she had sent when she stepped into the wagon she was greeted with Ijichi’s soft smile.

The tone between the two had always been kind and casual, almost friendly, which was something Y/N deeply appreciated. Other assistants sometimes didn’t dare to pursue a friendship with sorcerers, especially higher grades. They claimed it was due to professionalism, but the truth was that the assistants didn’t want to get attached to someone who’d end up dying well before their time.

Ijichi, in his gentlemanly behaviour, held open the car door for Y/N. Behind his nervous smile was a wave of worry when he glanced at the countless cuts and bruises that littered her body. The dried up blood as well as the torn clothes only added to his inner turmoil. Yet, every time he brought up his concerns for her wellbeing she shot him down with a lazy attempt at reassurance. It never worked.

“Has Yuji-kun already talked to you?” He asked with an almost cautious tone after he slipped into the driver’s seat and ignited the engine. Through the rear view mirror he could see how she furrowed her brows in confusion. It was enough of an answer for him.

“He mentioned that he was looking for you.” Ijichi explained further but Y/N only shook her head.

“I’ll find him when I’m at Jujutsu Tech. Thanks for telling me.”

After these words the remainder of the drive was spent in silence. It wasn’t unusual for rides with assistants to be quiet. Most trips with Ijichi however, were spent chatting about missions and the current state of affairs. 

This time the assistant kept quiet. Perhaps because he wasn’t fully well yet either. Shoko had only allowed him to operate the car he was currently driving. Everything else was strictly off limits to prevent him from overworking. A trait shared by seemingly everyone and their mother in the sorcerer society.

The two of them reached the school grounds quickly and while absent-mindedly muttering a “Thank you.” Y/N stepped out of the car, heading straight towards Shoko’s infirmary to get her wounds treated.

The eerie silence in her mind, surrounded by the noise of nature in the form of birds chirping and leaves rustling, were all that filled the air, but not for long. Before she even made it halfway to her destination she was suddenly stopped by a voice yelling her name from a bit further away. It was a voice she had come to know well.

“What’s up, Yuji?” She asked as she turned towards him. The boy stopped a few feet away, despite seemingly running he was barely out of breath.

“Y/L/N-Sensei, you’re not forgetting about later right?” The pink haired boy almost seemed timid and hesitant but Y/N didn’t read into it. There was no reason for something like that at a time like this.

“About the little get-together later? I won’t forget, Yuji.” She had to force a little smile onto her lips as she reassured him. It seemed to be all the young student wanted to talk about as he quickly nodded and shot her a smile, that seemed far too out of place for the mindset she surrounded herself with at the moment, before he turned around and disappeared into the direction he came from.

Y/N didn’t like that Gojo was throwing a get-together at a time like this, just days after a devastating tragedy that caused pain and loss to so many people. Yet, another part of her could understand it somehow. Even though he acted like an idiot at times, she knew his heart was at the right place. She figured quickly that he wanted to bring them all together to strengthen the bond of the remaining sorcerers, ultimately making it easier to rely on each other. Perchance he even had a plan to deal with the curses, and most of all, the curse user formerly known as Geto Suguru.

With all this in her mind she finally made her way to Shoko. The breeze, that was far too warm for this time of the year, went by her without any recognition. All she could do was try not to get lost in her thoughts, her planned apology to Nanami still lingering in the back of her mind.

“You’re looking great again…” Shoko’s voice was filled to the brim with sarcasm.

“Thanks, always a pleasure to see you.” Y/N attempted to respond with the same level of mockery as she rolled her eyes, but her tone sounded more annoyed than anything else.

“Is that why you’re making it a habit to visit every day with new injuries? Y/N, you can’t keep doing that.” It was uncommon for the (now again) heavy smoker to show this level of concern for others. She was well aware that her fellow sorcerers could handle themselves well.

“Damn, I heard that before.” This time Y/N’s words were dripping with sarcasm. There was no ill-will in her voice, but Shoko immediately realised that she had more luck getting through a wall than her patient’s thick skull. With a sigh she simply decided to drop the subject.

Only mere minutes later all of Y/N’s injuries were healed, or at least taken care of and she left Shoko’s infirmary after voicing her gratitude.

“Should I pick you up later, or..?” Y/N didn’t answer the question that was yelled after. She heard it, but she wouldn’t acknowledge it. Why would it matter if Shoko picked her up for the stupid get-together? It came as a surprise that Shoko even cared about one of Gojo’s plans.

The sky had cleared up within the past minutes, allowing the sun to shine down on the scenery and dipping the landscape in a plethora of orange hues. However, the colour spectacle went unnoticed by Y/N, whose feet carried her to her assigned room. Out of courtesy, or rather practicality, the higher-ups had decided to offer the empty dormitories to the remaining few sorcerers. Considering the school was protected by barriers, this served as a means to keep them safe more so than goodwill.

Time passed by quickly, or maybe it didn’t, but Y/N was simply too caught up in her own thoughts. She could feel herself being dragged down once more, spiralling into the depths of her sorrow. She thought that maybe as soon as she reached the room the thoughts would dissipate, but nothing of that sort happened.

Seemingly like a zombie trapped in her own mind she undressed herself, showered, dried herself off and changed into a set of clean clothes. She settled for the only black dress she wore. Taking into account the circumstances it felt fitting to wear black, even if Gojo would possibly find a way to bring colour into everything.

Maybe this get-together was exactly what everyone needed right now. Maybe this was a chance to reconnect and move on. Maybe, just maybe, Gojo’s idea wasn’t too bad.

After checking the clock on her phone for the nth time Y/N to get going. Arriving early was always fashionable, wasn’t it? Besides, she knew that Nanami, as much as he disliked these gatherings, would most probably be there early as well. She’d simply take the time to talk to him and apologise. This way she had a chance of enjoying the rest of the late afternoon, possibly even with Nanami next to her.

And wouldn’t you know it, just like she had predicted, the blonde sorcerer stood outside the venue, glancing at the watch on his wrist. To no one’s surprise he wore the same white suit as always. He likely owned it multiple times to make dressing up in the morning easier, a simple fact she had never cared to think about before. Now it almost seemed hilarious to her. Nonetheless there was a frown on her lips. Knowing that she had to act like a responsible grown up and apologise for her earlier outburst left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Kento! Hey.” She greeted him almost hesitantly, if he noticed the nervousness in her voice he didn’t show it. He simply greeted her back while turning towards her.

“Can I talk to you about earlier this morning?” What a stupid way to have phrased it. Of course she could, she evidently had the ability to do so. Internally she scolded herself instantly over her choice of words.

“If you want to apologise, there’s no need for it, Y/N.” Here he went again, being the ever considerate and thoughtful person she knew him as. The expression on his face was almost soft, something he only showed around a small number of people, which she considered herself lucky to be a part of.

Before she even had the chance to respond to him he spoke up once more, prompted by the uncertainty shown on her features.

“I’m serious. It’s a difficult time for everyone, we’re all on edge. It’s alright.” Nanami uttered with a tone so full of understanding that it almost blew her away. Then again, despite him being the youngest of the adult sorcerers, he had always been the most mature one and the voice of reason.

For a few short minutes a comfortable silence was shared between the two, until Y/N glanced over his white suit and remembered her train of thought from before.

“You decided to keep wearing that same white suit? Don’t you have anything different to wear?” Y/N’s almost playful glance revealed the nature of her words, there was no malice or ill-intent. She prided herself on being the only one who could get him to engage in conversations in a light-hearted manner.

“Why? Don’t you think it looks handsome?” Nanami’s response came quickly, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“Oh, it definitely does.” She replied back, unable to help herself from chuckling once more as she saw the slight smile forming on his lips. At this very moment it almost felt like nothing bad had ever happened.

“Y/N, there is one thing you have to do for me.” Nanami spoke up once again. Y/N didn’t pay too much attention to his somewhat more seriously sounding tone, that was simply his nature.

“You can't keep me from getting absolutely shitfaced drunk.” If this get-together was anything like Gojo’s previous festivities there would be an unlimited amount of alcohol provided. Even if the host of these gatherings never drank an ounce of it himself.

When Nanami didn’t respond or smile at her quick remark she straightened her posture and looked at him expectantly.

“You have to forgive yourself for everything that went down the other day.” He continued then, judging by his tone it was clear as day what exactly he was referring to.

Without any sort of warning a wave of guilt washed over Y/N. Her chest tightened at the reminder of how many lives were lost, how many people she couldn’t save. The destruction was terrible. But it wasn’t the source of her pain. Involuntarily her mind wandered to the corpses which had littered the grounds of the Shibuya station. Her lips started to quiver but she was determined not to give in to the tears. No other word was needed, no clarification or elaboration. She knew what he meant.

Nanami didn’t rush her in her response, instead he gave her all the time she needed by waiting patiently. Something she was thankful for, even if he was the only reason she needed time in the first place.

Y/N hardly noticed when the index finger of her right hand started to scrape at her thumb’s cuticle. Her head was turned away, gaze averted from him. A part of her knew that she had to forgive herself. In fact, she knew that there wasn’t anything to forgive herself for since she had done everything in her powers to save as many people as she could. She had done enough. But her heart did not agree with her head. In her heart she had failed the people of Tokyo. She had failed her fellow sorcerers. She had failed herself.

“You can be really annoying sometimes.” She responded after what seemed like forever, allowing a deep sigh to leave her lungs. ‘Mostly when you’re the voice of reason’, she added in her thoughts bitterly while turning her gaze back to him.

“Yes. Maybe.” His words of agreement were simultaneously out of place and so very typical for him, at least when he was with her. It was enough for her to crack an unwanted smile.

She breathed in deeply, once, twice, and another time.

“Okay.” She finally answered his previous request. Both of them knew that Y/N needed more time to actually forgive herself, but it was a step in the right direction. It was an unspoken promise that she’d attempt to do this for him.

Nanami only responded with a proud nod, barely mouthing the word “Good.”

The quick change in atmosphere had almost caused her heart to beat irregularly. A silence hung over them, but this time it was heavier than before.

Y/N needed to shift the mood again, she needed to uplift not only his spirit, but also her own. She knew that otherwise she’d be glum and gloomy during Gojo’s get-together. There had been too much tragedy within a short time, a killjoy was definitely not what any of the sorcerers needed.

“Since you’re forced to attend this get-together, when are you gonna start complaining?” She chuckled, a little forced anyways, as she asked the blonde sorcerer.

“Complaining about what?” It was Shoko’s voice that sounded from behind Y/N, making her turn around and face the healer with a smile. Although Shoko was never full of energy and happiness, she seemed even more dispirited than ever.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, “You know, about Gojo’s obnoxious attitude, about our tone deaf singing when we get drunk, about music that’s way too loud. The whole thing, really.” It seemed obvious to her that Nanami wouldn’t enjoy any of these things.

Shoko’s brows furrowed, her head tilted ever so lightly and her lips pursed.

“Where do you think we are?” She asked Y/N. A question like this would usually have resulted in the female sorcerer chuckling and replying in an amused tone. However, something about Shoko’s tone made her hesitate.

Y/N turned around towards Nanami once more, ready to smile at him.

Except, he wasn’t there anymore.

In a split second Y/N’s entire world came crashing down on her as the realisation set in that he had never been there in the first place. Images of her fights in Shibuya flashed before her eyes. Imagines consisting of sorcerers dying in front of her because she had been too slow.

A ringing set in her ears, intensifying with each memory that surfaced. The sound became stronger when she remembered finding Nanami again amidst the chaos and rubble of the destroyed Tokyo district. She had watched him fight, she had yelled after him, she had attempted to reach him and aid him.

Y/N swallowed hard, slowly turning towards Shoko again. Her chest tightened enough to leave her breathless. With a bitter smile on her face she lowered her gaze. Reluctantly she forced herself to walk, taking one painful step at a time towards the row of outdoor chairs that were neatly set up in front of the closed casket.

She had saved lives and exorcised many curses in Shibuya. She helped search for survivors and consoled the ones that were left behind after the losses.

Alas, the only thing she would forever remember about that night was how she witnessed Nanami dying right in front of her, when she had been too slow to save him.

Without any form of communication she sat down on one of the chairs in the first row, right in front of Nanami’s picture.

She was soon joined by Shoko who sat down next to her, placing a warm hand on her thigh and rubbing it assuringly. The gesture went unnoticed by Y/N, whose eyes were focused on all the little details she could make out on the picture atop the casket. Details that blurred more and more when her eyes filled with tears upon realising that it was all an illusion.

The arguments, the smiles, the quick light-hearted banter she shared with the blonde man during these last few days. It was nothing more than a beautiful hallucination.

[ozzgin]

I love the idea of Papa Pickle and his mate with a little one! What if the little cave child wanted to spar with the fighters and tries instigating fights with each of them?

Their reactions?

I know you requested headcanons of the fighters meeting the baby first, I figured it’d be a nice intro to this one. I recall writing something birth related, but upon further inspection it was mostly focused on the reader and not the baby (twins). This will be written for an infant as singularity, but the twin AU partisans can double that.

Baki Headcanons: Meeting Pickle & Prehistoric! Reader’s baby; sparring with the Prehistoric! Child

Featuring the fighters and their reaction to the newborn, as well as a time skip of the now grown Jurassic child showing interest in training.

You’d think Baki is the most excited given his attachment to the Jurassic mom and vice versa. And to his credit, he is dutifully standing there with a wide, nervous grin, ready to welcome the little creature. He’s the first one after the parents to be allowed to hold the infant, although he’s a trembling mess and requires a nurse encircling him with her arms, constantly reassuring him. “You can’t just drop a newborn, Baki. It doesn’t work like that. You’ve…you’ve carried heavier. I promise.”

Against everyone’s expectations, Katsumi is the one that seems to mesh right in with the news. He comes from a healthy, loving family and the event is nothing new nor surprising to him. He doesn’t need any advice and casually scoops the infant up with his arm, using his large hand as a head rest. Pickle is surprised by this confidence and cautiously approaches him, observing his technique and taking mental notes. Baki chuckles at the unanticipated sight.

Retsu is the next in line to be introduced. After listening to a short briefing on the proper and safe ways to hold a baby, he breathes in and solemnly receives the child. He allows it to rest against his broad chest and supports the back with both hands. A laugh escapes your mouth as you observe the extremely concentrated frown of the Kenpo master. He’s a little embarrassed and a blush spreads lightly to his ears. “O-one cannot be too cautious when handling such fragile beings. I do not see anything worth of amusement.”

Jack prefers to keep his distance and politely refuses the invitation to also hold the infant. He is grateful to be part of it, but he doesn’t trust himself around delicate things. Perhaps when the child grows sturdier he will approach it with more confidence. Until then he doesn’t mind watching passively. There are other ways to contribute.

The way I see it, growing up among modern humans kind of guarantees that the child will be able to speak proper language. And in the few years that have passed I’m hoping that reader and Pickle have also picked up some basic communication skills. So there might even be some rudimentary dialogue coming from the parents! I wonder how Pickle’s voice would sound like.

The kid’s favorite sparring partner is most likely Katsumi. Within his family Katsumi has always been the younger sibling, but in the Dojo he is the authority figure most people look up to. From the moment your child showed the intent to train, the Karate prodigy promptly responded with tips and playful fights. He’s been teaching for years and knows how to assess the capacities of his opponent without using too much force or harming them. Compared to the rest of the fighters he has the most experience in dealing with novices and amateurs and acts accordingly.

On the opposite end of martial arts teaching is Retsu. He doesn’t like to joke around and believes his Chinese Kenpo isn’t some playtime activity for children. He has no problem explaining certain techniques to your kid, but it will be done by the book. Retsu is a great help if you need a break for the day. Kid has too much energy? It will be jogged and worked until late evening just to learn a fancy kick. No other way around it. The youngster will be returned completely passed out from exhaustion, but with a proud, satisfied smile plastered on its face.

Baki enjoys the idea of having a younger sibling, although he can be clumsy when it comes to sparring. If he’s too enthusiastic he might overdo his hits and next thing he knows, the child is on the grass crying and wailing. He scrambles to tend to the superficial wounds and frantically attempts to silence the screams. He doesn’t want to explain the ordeal to a dangerously powerful mom. Outside these small accidents, Baki is also one of the most preferred opponents.

The child is initially very cautious around Jack, but it doesn’t take too long to warm up to the idea of sparring with him. Jack has a lot of patience and most of the time just acts as a punching bag. If the youngster wants to try out a new move or practice some technique he’s seen somewhere, Jack will gladly receive the little blows and offer advice or encouragements. Sometimes after training they will hang out together doing small things like feeding the koi at the Tokugawa estate. “You’ve been training an awful lot lately. Any reason in particular?” Jack questions the little human, curious about the change. “I wanna hurry up and be strong already. Like mom!” the child looks up, beaming. Jack laughs at the last statement. “You’ve picked one hell of a goal. Good luck with that!”

[infiniteko]

Hi, how are you doing?

One of the things that I think has caused these discussions that we are seeing in the last few days (you know the ones) is people thinking that you don't want to answer clearly what the anons ask (as if you were hiding a secret) because your answers sometimes sound as "vague" and "confusing".

My question is: you can't answer in a more "specific" way because that would imply the use of more words and even the use of dual concepts. Then you would be against the philosophy that you yourselves are trying to teach. That's why you have to stick to explaining in the simplest and most objective way possible, being careful not to use dual concepts?

My question was probably very confusing 😅

I'll try to give an example: you say "drop all the labels, so you can find the only real thing: the 'Self' " and then an anon asks "ok, but how do I drop the labels?" and you respond "there is no how to, you just do it".

In this case, this answer was not clear enough, because the anon was probably expecting some kind of "method" on "how to", so he and other people who read the answer may think that you are refusing to answer. But what I see, in this example at least, is that there is no way to explain "how to drop the labels", the words are not enough to explain, and if you were to use more words, you would end up falling into duality, which is controversial, so you need to stick to responding in the "least dual way possible." Am I correct of viewing this way?

(Sorry if it's hard to understand my question, english not being my native language doesn't help much 🥲 feel free to not respond if you find too confusing)

I definitely understand what you're trying to ask or say and I kind of agree with it. [long text ahead]

Here's the thing, when I first stumbled across Advaita Vedanta, it was from Swami Sarvapriyananda

and I literally cannot answer "how do I go within" questions because it is not something that can be explained, just how your actual Being cannot be explained because words are limited. There is only a certain amount of things you can say but that's not even enough to explain it. If I called myself "Awareness™️", and "Awareness™️" only, on one hand it's a good hint to the direction of what I am but actually, it is not who I really(!) Am. Because what you are cannot be put into words and this whole "don't label this and that as good or bad" is just a hint(!!). A lot of people think that not labeling something is part of a method but it's not. What I always meant and have clarified as so, was that by not labeling something as good or bad you just see it as it is. You see it as something that is just happening nothing else and whatever is just happening is nothing but "You".

Those that say it's too "vague" or that are angry and then start ranting about how vague I am on other accounts, don't fully understand anything. Because when I learned about it from Swami Sarvapriyananda, I didn't ask how to go within or what to do next or how do I get my "desires" and everything. None of us ran from one account to another for weeks just to get the same answers. All it truly takes is yourself and people don't understand that. If I would post something like "this is a how to go within explanation" or whatever, I would be telling lies because there is no "how to" go within or even worse, "how to BE". You just are, you just are yourself, you just notice yourself. There is no explanation to it because it cannot be put into words and it's something a lot of people overlook. They think that I'm gatekeeping the truth or that I don't want to help. But if I would be gatekeeping the truth or if I didn't want to help then why the hell would I even make this account? Why would I even be here? The simple answer to why can't I just explain it is because there is literally no explanation. It is something you have to do by yourself and you have to notice by yourself. You can read as much as you want to. If you don't sit down with yourself and just notice your own being BY YOURSELF,

every single word you have ever read is useless. Because why are you reading if you're not using it

or pondering on it. What is the point in gathering endless amount of information without using it? That's something a lot of people don't notice that they are literally taking one post after another without even deeply taking in what is being said or sitting down and understanding what is being said and then notice it themselves. I cannot explain direct experience to you. Direct experience is just direct experience of yourself and it is something that you are always doing, you just have to notice that you are doing it. If you see someone trying to explain what direct experience or "how to go within" is

they're far from actuality because words are far from the truth. It is not something that can be put into words and it is not something that needs a manual. You cannot put rules or limitations like a how-to tutorial onto a direct experience it is, again, something you have to notice by yourself and if you are incapable of doing that (which is impossible by the way, you just think that you are incapable) then there's nothing I can do because pointers are pointers. Swami Sarvapriyananda, Rupert Spira, Being_is_IT, Realitywarpingg (no concepts), Robert Adams, Fred Davis, etc are just a few accounts + of course scriptures from Tibetan Buddhism and the actual(!) philosophy Advaita Vedanta (NOT Tumblr's version), none of them give you a how-to tutorial, none of them explain in detail how to do something.

They just give you hints because it is literally all that can be given.

You cannot explain direct experience, you cannot put it into words. I mean, think for a minute. If "THAT" experience and can really be put into words, don't you think that someone would have done it a long time ago? We did not come up with ND. A lot of people who are new to non-dualism think that non-dualism is something that originated from tumblr by previous large account and

it's some type of method to get your desires or whatever and that's false. It's an ancient l philosophy, not a tumblr trend. Honestly, it's just funny. The AV-philosophy is a hint to what you are and by knowing yourself there is nothing else that can be done because you are "Ultimate Reality", "Absolute Authority", "Infinite Beingness".

What else is there to get if "THAT" is all there is? :')

[ghcstao3]

Ghost doesn’t fear much. At least, not anymore. And it isn’t just a cause of a reputation needed to be upheld—he’s learned to live with fear, was forced to adapt with it, and now holds it against the enemy as one of his greatest strengths.

But the one thing he still cannot stand? Snakes. Fucking snakes.

It seems stupid. Feels stupid. Given everything Ghost has gone through and still goes through, it’s likely no one could ever guess that snakes are the one thing that set him off. That they are the one thing capable of incapacitating the Ghost.

But they are. And though they aren’t usually much of an issue in the military, it’s still one of his best-guarded secrets. Because addressing it means addressing where the petrifying fear came from, and Ghost isn’t certain he’d ever be able to do that.

When Soap speaks of a pet at home, about how she’s cuddly and loving and sweet, Ghost expects a cat. Not a dog, never a dog because that’s what Soap fears. A cat. A normal, conventional pet.

To Ghost’s chagrin, however, it is not a cat. Soap’s sweet girl is a snake, and while relatively small, a snake nonetheless. The moment Ghost sees her, he can’t move. He’s frozen in place, even as Soap continues to navigate his own flat to begin unpacking what little he’d brought on leave.

Soap finally notices the more tense silence from Ghost, though, and rushes over to see what’s wrong. Concern is written into his features as he loops his arms around Ghost’s neck, prodding gently to get an answer, but never pushing.

And normally, it would help. Normally the closeness is welcomed, embraced, but the arms around Ghost’s neck only serve to make him feel constricted, suffocated, as he’s brought back to those moments of torment he’d suffered throughout childhood. He can’t breathe.

Soap seems to understand in part what the issue is, and quickly drops his arms away, instead taking Ghost’s hands to maintain that contact that is usually so naturally grounding.

“Simon,” Soap coaxes. “Mind telling me what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

Ghost can’t bring himself to respond. He’s still watching with great intensity as the snake writhes around in its tank, curling around one of the decorative branches within its containment. Ghost’s silence prompts Soap to follow his eye-line, and from there it’s a rapid realization of what’s got Ghost so immovable.

Soap slips away, hasty to find a cover for the tank and drape it over, hiding the snake from view. He returns to Ghost, still glued in place, though he’s far more willing to listen to Soap’s instruction to find his eyes instead.

“I’m sorry,” Soap is apologizing, “I should’ve told you.”

Ghost musters the strength to shake his head. His eyes flit back to the covered tank, but his gaze returns to Soap’s the moment there’s a tug on his sleeve.

“Isn’t your fault,” Ghost says. “I never…”

“Why don’t we go out?” Soap suggests. He always seems to know how to perfectly divert attention from what’s currently so bothersome. “Just for a bit. Then we’ll come back and try again.”

Ghost happily agrees. Anything to get away for a while, to recompose himself and prepare mentally for the leave he’s about to spend in a space with one of the things he dreads most.

The tank stays covered for the rest of that night, and the day following. But Ghost remains tense throughout, and Soap decides they ought to do something about it.

Gradually, Soap leaves the tank uncovered for longer. He’ll pull the sheet over the second Ghost starts panicking, at first, but eventually Ghost builds enough tolerance with a lot of reassurance from Soap, and the sheet gets neatly tucked away. It’s left unused for the last few days of that leave.

Over the next couple with a lot of time between, they try more exposure. Soap takes his snake out of her tank to show she’s just about harmless. He keeps distance from Ghost, of course, but is happy to satiate any curiosity the lieutenant has with in-depth answers, and doesn’t say anything as Ghost creeps closer every day, until he’s within reach. Until he’s gingerly guiding his index finger over smooth scales. Until Soap is placing the snake into Ghost’s own hands.

She hardly weighs anything. And, really, she would only ever be more scared of Ghost, than he could ever be of her.

Soap’s snake doesn’t relieve Ghost’s fear entirely, no. She likely never could on her own, even as Ghost grows more comfortable around her. But she still helps, and seeing the smile it puts on Soap’s face to see her and Ghost getting along makes it more than worth the effort to try and work on the fear.

Facing it isn’t as terrifying as Ghost thought it would be. He still has a way to go, but he’s also still progressing. And maybe one day, in some not-so far-off future, the Ghost wouldn’t fear anything at all.

[renx01]

Playing Along - Part 6

Prompt: “Just play along, please” inspired this multiple part fic, in which agent Galahad and Kay are on a mission together in the French Alps. Here, they have to pretend to be a couple, despite the two of them being rivals and Kay always wanting to beat him at everything. Pairing: Harry Hart x Kingsman!Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: fake dating, slowburn, rivals Word count: 1712

Masterlist

The snow falls slowly as you trek through the thick layer that rests on the ground. Galahad, who’s walking in front of you, seems to know where he’s going, so you’re trusting your colleague to lead the way. It’s quiet, save for the crunch you hear with each of your steps. You’re enjoying this quite a bit, there’s a sense of peace you haven’t felt in quite a while, not since before you joined Kingsman. The snowy mountains are a place where you have always been able to find peace, but it hasn’t been the same the past few years. Yet, somehow, this time around it seems somewhat normal again, despite you being here on a mission with a colleague you weren’t particularly fond of beforehand. It’s as if the two of you have finally found a way to work together and appreciate each other for the agents, no people, you are.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Galahad offering you a hand to get up a ledge. ‘Cam.’ Thanking him, you gratefully accept it. He pulls you up with such ease that you almost fall into him, but he catches you in time, holding you closely. ‘Careful now, we wouldn’t want you getting injured.’ He says and shows a genuine smile. ‘Sorry Harry, I can be a bit of a clutz sometimes.’ You smile back sheepishly. ‘Now, now, I wouldn’t say that.’ He calmly lets go of your waist once you seem like you’ve found your footing again. ‘You’re quite skilled in the field, and apparently on skis as well, both of which you need good coordination for. So, I wouldn’t really qualify you as a clutz.’ Before you’re able to respond to the compliment, he turns around and starts walking again. Looking over his shoulder, he tells you that you’re almost at the destination, and you follow quickly.

After about ten more minutes of walking, you reach a plateau on the mountain your chalet is located on the bottom of. ‘We’re here.’ Harry states and he smiles at you before motioning you to turn around. When you do, you’re met by a beautiful white landscape that surrounds you. To your right, you see the little building you’re staying in, while there’s a pine forest in front of you and to your left. As you overlook it, you spot a frozen waterfall in the distance. The valley truly looks quite beautiful in the blanket of snow that covers it. Hearing the man behind shift and put down the backpack he’d been carrying, you turn to him to see him pulling out a thermos. ‘How did you find this place Harry? It’s beautiful.’ He looks up at you from his crouched position. ‘I have my ways.’ He smirks. ‘Now I cannot go around revealing all my secrets, can I? That wouldn’t be very fun.’ You laugh at that last comment, thinking back to the previous night, when you’d told him something similar. ‘A cup of tea for you dea- Cam?’ Choosing to ignore the strange stop before he said your name, you happily accept his offer. Pouring two cups, he hands you one of them, before putting the thermos back into the bag. Upon taking a sip, you realise he’s chosen an Earl Grey Breakfast blend, one of your favourites on days such as these. The two of you stand there next to one another, looking out at the beautiful nature and a warm cup of tea in hand. You let the calm wash over you and close your eyes while you slowly drink the beverage.  Minutes pass before either of you says anything, hesitant to interrupt such a perfect moment.  Yet, Harry eventually does, asking whether the tea he’d chosen is to your liking. Nodding, you affirm that it is. You didn’t mind him interrupting the silence, even appreciating the baritone of his voice. Something within you seems to have changed, you note as the interaction continues. Unable to pinpoint what it is exactly, you focus on your conversation with him instead.  Upon finishing your tea and handing the taller man your cup, you note that you should probably start heading back to the cabin; since it’s already past three o’clock. You do so, but rather than having harry walk in front of you, he now walks beside you, conversing about different topics, ranging from sports and art to the most recent political scandal. The Conservative Party had recently taken a considerable hit in popularity after a rumour about David Cameron and a pig’s head started going around. Knowing what sort of people he’d been associated with throughout his studies at Oxford, you wouldn’t be too surprised if it’s confirmed to be true. Harry wholeheartedly agrees and voices his disgust with such traditions saying, ‘such behaviour is repugnant to any reasonable person and should not be considered as part of our vast and diverse array of traditions.’ 

The hike down the mountain turned out to be more fleeting, arriving back at the cabin thirty minutes earlier than anticipated. You unlock the front door and walk in before sitting down to take off your boots. They’d held up exceptionally well considering the amount of snow you’d walked through and stood in. Harry follows suit and sits down next to you after closing and locking the front door. His shoulder touches yours as he leans forward to undo the laces of his boots. Once you’ve taken them off, you stand up and take off your coat as well. Quickly, you put the items away before turning around and looking at your colleague, who’s just stood up and is unzipping his jacket.  ‘I wanted to thank you.’ His eyes meet yours; they’re soft, but unreadable to you. ‘It was my pleasure being able to take you.’ Taking his coat from him, you hang it up next yours. ‘But I do, Harry. Otherwise we wouldn’t have gone out, despite the weather actually being quite nice. So thank you. Really.’ You smile shyly.  He opens his mouth to answer, but nothing seems to come out before he closes it again, deciding it’d be enough to smile, although a bit sheepishly. His eyes do not leave yours though, and eventually a somewhat tense silence settles between you. There isn’t much space and the hallway seems to become smaller. You’re awfully aware of the heat that radiates off him and how close he actually is to you. His right hand slowly itches closer to your left, until his fingertips finally touch yours. Meanwhile his other hand ghosts somewhere near your hip, but he seems hesitant as he starts leaning closer to you. Shifting your hand, your fingers move between his and you hold his hand tenderly. What feels like a few very tense minutes pass when his forehead finally rests onto yours and your noses are so close they’re about to touch. You feel that he’s about to kiss you; and you want him to. Desperately.  However, the moment is interrupted by your phone ringing. You answer, pretty annoyed but you don’t let it show in your voice. ‘Hello, this is Kay speaking.’ You’re met by a deep, Scottish voice. ‘Hello Kay, Merlin here. I was wondering if you and Galahad have returned to the cabin yet.’ You signal to the man, who has now given you some space to answer the phone but is still holding you closely, that it’s the, as you lovingly call him (and very much to his annoyance), wizard. ‘We did just now, we were about to call you.’ ‘Hm- Alright, thanks. We’ll keep in touch, but just get some rest today. Nothing’s really come up and for now it’s mostly just a waiting game.’ You huff, but before you can say anything, Harry moves your hand that’s holding the phone with his so that the phone is at his ear. ‘Thank you for your concern Merlin.’ His accent seems thicker and his voice deeper than usual. ‘We’ll be contacting you tomorrow morning then, unless something of grave importance comes up.’ You can hear the Scot’s response, but you’re not listening; too focused on the fact that Harry’s started slowly closing the distance between you again. You feel him grab your phone from your hand and see him break eye contact to hang up. 

‘Now where were we?’ He whispers after putting away the phone and locking his eyes with yours once again. Your response is grabbing the back of his neck and kissing him passionately. Letting go of your hand, he grabs your waist with both his hands. Slowly, he starts becoming more dominant in the kiss and you feel yourself hit the wall behind you. Your free hand moves and settles itself in his brown, slightly curly, hair. As you continue, the pull you’d felt only becomes stronger and no matter how close he is to you, it doesn’t feel quite close enough. His movements continue to be controlled, yet they have a frantic nature to them. He pulls you closer, making the barrier of your thick clothing blatantly obvious to you.  Just as one of your hands starts slipping down his back and slightly tugging up the fabric of his turtleneck, he pulls away. ‘Cam-’ he starts saying something but you interrupt him by feverishly planting your lips on his once again. He responds in the same manner, but pulls away again after a while. ‘Cam.’ He moves his hands onto your shoulders and holds you at a distance. ‘Wait, please.’ His eyes are wide and his pupils are dilated. ‘Bloody hell, you’re stunning.’ One of his hands moves to cup your face. ‘I need to know that you want this; that you’ll want me after tonight.’ What he’s saying is slowly being processed in your head. ‘I’ll be yours if you’ll have me. And you’ll be mine if I have your consent.’ You nod quietly and try to lean in again, but he stops you. ‘I need you to use your words, dear.’ Words start flowing out of your mouth. ‘Yes Harry, I want this. I want you, need you. Desperately, even-’ This time he is the one that interrupts you. 

‘Gods. Then I’ll be yours.’ 

He says before kissing you even more urgently and hungrily than before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Hey everyone! sorry for the very much delayed update. I seem to have fallen ill and haven't been well for the past few weeks. Alas, I was feeling better today and finally managed to finish part 6. There's a few Sherlock fics and Kingsman one-shots coming up in the (hopefully) near future as well. Hope you enjoyed this part though... I just felt I had to let them kiss haha.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @crazymela @julieeauchocolat @chimopdog

[wisteriaiswriting]

gekko, phoenix, sage and astra with gender neutral reader who loves gardening (headcanons?)

𝕊/𝕆 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕟

Gekko, Phoenix, Sage and Astra headcanons + blurbs with reader who loves to garden.

Words: 1235

This guy cannot care for anything that isn't edible. They are the only thing he can care for.

When you're in the garden or a store he will follow you around trying to learn. Although he will forget everything as soon as you leave.

From here on out any present you get is something plant related. Whether it's some seed packets or a fake flower in a hand painted pot.

Though if you grow any type of vegetables he will suddenly become the teacher. (His mother grew her own vegetables as he grew up and taught him.)

“Oh Pájaro cantor~”

Gekko’s voice echoed in the hallways, he left earlier within the day and was just now returning. Alongside his voice and footsteps, there was also the movement of a plastic bag.

Turning around to see him stepping into the garden, following the steps towards you. Showing you were correct, he was carrying an opaque plastic bag.

"Love, I got these for you!"

The bag was filled with items you were familiar with, feeling a pot and hearing seeds in it. Opening it revealed the pot was filled with a mix of seed packets, from violas and roses to broccoli and leeks.

Pulling out the pot showed something new, the outside was painted. Covered in small doodles in all different colours, a yellow wingman, a blue dizzy, green mosh and a pink thrash. They all surrounded one bigger drawing.

It was you and Gekko holding hands. There were small hearts drawn around the both, clear they were drawn by your buddies. All were wobbly and uneven but clearly drawn with love.

"Aww, thanks Mateo~"

He has somehow become the worst agent to care for plants. (Please don't leave him in charge of any types.)

In his life he has somehow killed a succulent. (No one is sure how he did it??)

When he was still in school he probably learnt about some types but has now forgotten everything.

Will constantly watch you care for your plants but don't allow him near it please. (Weirdly enough he always knows when you're about to care for them.)

“Aw, c’mon love!”

Phoenix was whining from inside, the glass door was open but the other was shut and locked. You’ve learned quickly to not let him near the garden, especially alone. Your poor garden still hasn’t recovered from the accident.

“Not until you can be trusted!”

“I can be, just let me show you.”

You didn’t answer this time, continuing to replant your garden. A small patch was completely burnt so it was filled with seeds and sprouts, which you just finished planting.

“Look, you’re done planting right?”

He paused as if for you to respond, which only worried you.

“This means a new start! I can show you I’ve matured by caring for the babies.”

You could only look at him in worry and concern.

“I don’t think so, I'm not having a repeat.”

“My dear halcyon~ Let me show you!“

And you did, walking over to the door and unlocking it. You would clearly regret this.

During her first few years in the protocol she started the (still small) agent garden so she knows how to care for a variety of plants.

While she has grown vegetables she much prefers flowers, finds them easier.

When you need or want help she is always willing.

And if you have more than enough plants she will find others to build a greenhouse for them.

Sage had quickly banned you from the garden, even managing to drag others to stop you as well. And speaking of the others, you've realised how suspiciously busy they've been. But not with any missions or paperwork.

This continued for a few weeks, 3 to be exact. During that time Sage was one of the busiest with everything, missions, paperwork, hobbies and now this secret... thing? But that quickly came to an end.

"Angel?"

Sage had walked around the base trying to find you, ending up in the kitchen where you were making a drink. Apparently so distracted since you didn't react to the nickname.

Slowly and silently walking up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. Her laughing started as you jumped, spinning around to see her.

"Wei!"

She stepped back as she whipped eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I've got another surprise for you~"

She reached and grabbed for your hand, pulling you along. A quick trip through the halls of the protocol, ending up with you both in her quarters.

The quarters consisted of her room, the medical room and an outdoor garden. Which 2 of the 3 were always open to others whether or not she was around.

The blinds were shut but clearly the door wasn't, the wind was making the bottoms move around.

"Now, close your eyes."

Doing as you're told resulted in hands covering your, now closed eyes. Using them to guide you where she wanted you. Through the door outside, walking the whole length of the stone path. Stepping off onto a soft patch of dirt.

Her hands pulled off and both reached for one of your own.

"Open~"

And you're glad you did, the sight was amazing. A decently sized greenhouse had been placed and built in the back of the garden. During this you missed the last few agents hanging around retreat inside.

Spinning around to tackle Sage into a hug.

"All for me?"

"Yes~"

Without any more words you dove for her lips, she responded quickly. And once oxygen came necessary you parted, both panting.

"Let's show your 'babies' their new home."

Akoma mu toffee - my/sweetheart (Closest translation so I apologize if this is incorrect.)

As she was growing up she had her own but small garden full of flowers. Having the chance to enlarge it and explore more plants during her time at the protocol.

When she found out you also gardened she offered to share, becoming ecstatic when you accepted. (Told everyone for the next week.)

If you grew or will grow any types of edible plants, new or old she will cook you both something with them. (If she's feeling nice the other agents can have some.)

Efia had led you towards your shared garden, shared meaning just for you two. Recently her side has been empty, the majority of her old plants were given to you. Meaning your side is fuller than ever since joining the protocol.

And she hasn’t stopped with her love of plants so something is up, you’re just not sure of what… yet. Recently she has been bringing in a lot more items, and last time you checked there were bags and boxes stacked in her room.

Now, weeks later she was finally putting them to use. But before entering she held her hands over your eyes, slowly leading you so you don’t trip. Stepping into, what you assume is the garden's entrance as she has you stop waking.

“Akwaaba!”

Your temporarily blinded has her hands are removed, the newly renovated garden is all you can see. Flower beds were full of a mix of flowers and vegetables, practically overflowing.

One was a mix of beautiful pink impala flowers (she also grew some inside on window shelves.) and light purple african daisies. Overhead the whole garden grew bougainvilleas, ranging from a hot pink to warm red giving the place a lot of shade.

In another bed was a range of chillies, she did like to add them to the majority of her meals. A few sprouts of tomatoes, broccoli, leaks and others. The other beds were full of your plants, she kept them all just moved them around.

There was even a sign at the front. It was clear she didn’t do the carving, being Skye’s handiwork. Labeled ‘Y/N and Astra’s Garden’ with small and harsh hearts surrounding, those were her work.

Her hand wrapped around your waist to pull you into her, head leaning on your shoulder.

“What’cha think Akoma mu toffee?”

“I love it, thank you Efia.”

[decepti-thots]

I'm having mild A Few Days (Or So) Later Anxiety™ and wanted to add a disclaimer to my comment on the post where you talked about MTMtE/LL being regarded as fanfiction about how I defo think its done to de-legitimize official works (purposefully or not), but that I defo don't think fanfiction isn't a legitimate form of art/writing also? I dunno, I probably have nothing to worry about, but anxiety is Like That sometimes haha. (that said though, your thoughts that you mentioned would be interesting to see I think!)

Haha, well, I'm the one who made the post, so nothing to worry about there, I promise! I don't think you came across as dismissive of fic at all. As you say, talking about how that's why people use that 'accusation' doesn't necessarily mean you agree with the underlying logic.

As for my thoughts…

One thing that frustrates me whenever I try and discuss this is actually something you hit on the head here I think inadvertently- people who write fanfiction (like myself!) often tend to respond with a kneejerk reaction whenever someone says [xyz] isn't fanfic, because we assume, often incorrectly, they must mean 'it's Too Good to be fanfiction'. But that's not the case! Fanfic is as unique as any form of creative work, and saying something like MTMTE isn't fanfic is no more an insult to fanfic than, say, pointing out the Mona Lisa isn't a watercolour painting is an insult to watercolour artists. It's just an observation around what a work is or is not.

I get it- fanfic is often very specifically looked down on just for being fanfic, and we tend to get defensive over things we care about. I've been writing fanfic since I was eight, so over two decades now; it's a huge part of my life and one I don't like people to be unfairly dismissive of. But one of the things which I love about fanfic is that it does certain specific things that other mediums don't or often even can't, and I think describing every bit of remotely transformative work as 'fanfic' really robs us of that nuance.

MTMTE is not 'officially published fanfic' because it is subject to certain editorial requests and constraints that fanfic just… isn't. And this fact massively impacts how it unfolds as a work. The fact CDRW only gradually reveal themselves as a romantic couple is a very blatant example of this. Roberts had to ask IDW's permission to have gay characters. Who in turn had to ask Hasbro's permission. The result is a very gradual amping up of the subtext, and that means the serialized storytelling functions differently than if MTMTE was just his fanwork or whatever. The annotated scripts and notebooks he's given us make all of this very clear- there are numerous points where he's like, 'and then Barber asked me to cut this', etc. In turn, MTMTE received editorial scrutiny and support no fic is likely to, even with the most dedicated beta reader, and is in conversation with other writers' ideas in ways that it can use to its advantage. It is a different comic than a fancomic might be in ways that relate to it being published, and what the process of publishing a comic looks like.

But even beyond that, there are things like what I brought up in that post about 'original characters', for example. In fanfic, the understanding is that OCs are an indulgence in most cases on the part of the author. This isn't always true- but often it is! And that's a good thing, because fanfic is something people should enjoy and be self-indulgent with. But like. In a work like MTMTE, characters like Rung are not introduced purely because the author wants to make a mark on a pre-existing canon or insert themself into the story. They are usually introduced because they are needed narratively speaking. Rung is required for the narrative that Roberts has planned from the very beginning, and he cannot be a pre-existing character within that framework without it fundamentally changing the way the story reads. Similar to, say, characters like Tarn. So when people talk about these characters like they're OCs he somehow snuck into Real Transformers Canon TM, we lose a lot of interesting discussion about what those characters do as pieces of the story, because the assumption becomes 'they are there because Roberts wanted to make his OCs canon'.

And finally, we have this odd feeling that somehow MTMTE isn't 'real' Transformers canon because even its fans treat it like fanfiction turned official and see just the 'fanfic' part of that idea, not the 'official' bit. So suddenly, the only way any of it can be implicitly legitimized is by having stuff show up elsewhere. Like hey, Tarn showing up in Cyberverse was GREAT, but Tarn was a 'real Transformers character' before that. Y'know? Again, fanfic NOT being 'real canon' is literally a part of what makes it great- fanfic, far from being lessened by its non-canonicity, is enriched by the way that changes how it reads to its audience contextually and what it can do. But trying to read MTMTE through that lens makes no sense, and tbh, it feels very much like people are being almost… defensive about liking it in a way I find unnecessary and self-defeating.

And it is reeeeeal telling to me that exRiD does not get this treatment. Aileron is not 'Barber's OC', people do not hedge their bets on its appeal to the broader TF fanbase. You know? Some combination of knowing Roberts used to write fanfic and its content being seen as somehow 'fanfic like' (read: character driven and heavily interested in romance and interpersonal relationships) drives us more towards that view for MTMTE as a fandom.

And just to finish off: I've read a lot more of Roberts' fic than a lot of people in this fandom, I suspect. I can tell you right now, his fanfic and his MTMTE work honestly… don't overlap that much. There are things you can point to, but MTMTE is a completely different ballgame in almost every way. I know it's beating a dead horse and this point to say, but one would not necessarily recommend Eugenesis, for example, to a MTMTE fan. To put it lightly.

[wehadwildflowerfever]

So it’s both “Mermaids” release day and the day I can finally unwrap my “Daffodil” tattoo.

I’m staying up until midnight to hear this last Dance Fever song, so I’ve spent a large part of today thinking about the whole album.

I’ve worked through a lot of it academically this year, but I haven’t really let myself sit down and think about what it means to me personally. I saw someone write that the build up of “Mermaids” feels like a scream waiting to be released (@veronicaofosea), and that’s so close to how Dance Fever as a whole feels to me. Listening to it has felt like letting out multiple screams that have been building up in my body since girlhood.

Florence isn’t close to the first artist to remind women that we don’t have to be good, seek approval, be desirable, and keep the peace. Within my own pantheon of favorite artists/musicians/poets, I have heard it so often. Mary Oliver has told us (“You do not have to be good / you do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert repenting”). Tori Amos has told us again and again in more ways than I have room to write down (“She’s been everybody else’s girl/ Maybe one day she’ll be her own”). Each instance has felt like a small revelation to me. An idea I could intellectually know to be true, but couldn’t feel in my body when needing to go out into the world to assert myself. My voice is always quieter than I mean it to be. I apologize for myself when I don’t want to. I have a really hard time making eye contact. Dance Fever marked the first time that I could fully hear this truth. Right now. In my late thirties.

I don’t know what did it, exactly. I think part of it was lockdown and being on my own so much. Probably having the space to retreat into myself, being responsible only to myself and my partner. Having very few external expectations placed on us. And then coming out of that, Dance Fever was the first piece of art to shatter my grief-induced numbness.

“Oh bring your salt, bring your cigarette. Draw me a circle and I’ll protect…” The ferocity of the circle drawn in “Heaven is Here.” The dark magic and intentional monstrosity of it. How it made a protected space for our rage and mourning and reclamation of self.

The tender, funny anger of “Girls Against God.” (Which actually made me feel conflicted at first. Growing up going to an Orthodox Hebrew school, we didn’t write God’s name on anything that wasn’t sacred and meant to last, even in English. Writing down that title was literally the first time I spelled out “God” which was scary but also powerful.) The permission of being able to own our anger, even if it’s just us, in our pajamas, alone in our bedrooms.

And it took me a while to notice what was being sung during the “Dream Girl Evil” bridge, but once I figured out that it was a reversal of Yeats’ “The Second Coming,” I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What does it mean to look at our world on the verge of collapse and respond-- at least for a moment-- by essentially saying well fine, this wasn’t a world built for us. If it’s dependent on women being the world’s angels and dream girls, just let it all burn. “I am nobody’s moral center / it cannot hold.” Again, this intense permission to claim our rage and independence.

The part of the album that has probably made me cry the most is a lyric I still don’t fully understand. It’s toward the end of “Choreomania,” when the music slows down a little and Florence sings, “And do they speak to you? Because they speak to me, too. The pressure and the panic you push your body through.” I’m not sure who “they” are for her, but there is something so comforting in how the fourth wall breaks down here, how she sings “they speak to me, too.” The vulnerable confession that we all carry unwanted voices with us born of mental illness, or intergenerational trauma, or gendered social expectation, and the recognition of what those voices do to us and our bodies. The anxiety and the panic attacks.

This album feels like a release of those voices or an attempt to live with them in a way that allows us to fully reclaim ourselves.

Even just posting this feels like something I wouldn’t have done before. I would have checked with multiple people to make sure it wasn’t too much, or too pointless, or too intense, but I think of “Restraint” and post it anyway. “And have I learned restraint? Am I quiet enough for you yet?” Saying “yes, but I’m unlearning it” feels like a source of power.

[raymondshields]

ayo all 5 seasons of Storm Chasers is on Youtube for free so like. if u want Tornado Time. it's there

(From my email inbox and my own tweet reply from earlier today.)

Delighted to tell you I am Already Aware of that show, although I haven't sat down and watched it in full because I've had zero time. Mostly when it's Tornado Time I run through my favourite Pecos Hank videos, or I find every single video that's ever done coverage of the El Reno 2013 EF-5. Skip Talbot did a two hour panel on it that was recorded and I've watched it several times.

Mind you, the fact I could identify Ivey's run with the TIV2 on a single screenshot of a video reposted twice without even reading the credit watermark is probably impressive.

Did you know that thing was more or less an armoured jeep, with hydraulic spikes that drove several feet into the ground to keep it from being flung? They lost two doors and most of the antennae and other recording equipment on top to that EF-4 in the video. Given that they lost the doors, and as my tweet says that was actual sheet metal across the windshield, it's a miracle neither of them died.

I dug up Ivey's original tweet about it way back when, quote-tweeted it just to remark on his steel balls, and the fucker liked my quote tweet within the day. Bro.

I wholly, 100% recommend Pecos Hank (Hank Schyma)'s channel for good tornado content, he's also a sweetheart with animals and absolutely understands that the moment the tornadoes are gone, stormchasers are now first responders. He's got a few videos pretty much entirely on rescuing people from debris and reporting to authorities that there's tornadoes on the ground.

Skip Talbot's great, much as I think he looks like baby Josh Hutcherson. Reed Timmer's aight, although I think he's a bit on the loud-streamer side personally. Dr. Anton Seimon's a treat whenever you can catch his footage on Youtube. Brandon Ivey has less of a Youtube presence than the others, but he also lets people do tours with him, which is a great way to see tornadoes and also Not Get In The Way Of The Actual Chasers.

But also like, catch y'all in a few days to a few weeks when Hank's done with the outbreak he put in my email and has the videos out for it. I've seen some lovely footage off twitter from the locals, can't wait to see the professional stuff on youtube.

To end things off, heavy heavy reminder to not chase tornadoes yourself. If you are not a chaser, get the fuck off the roads, and if you have safe shelter, get the fuck into your shelter. Tornadoes are lethal. Just because you're moving faster than it is doesn't mean you can deal with them pulling u-turns, swelling, and throwing trees and semis in your way. If you cannot identify the RFD in a matter of seconds, then you are in the way of actual chasers and you need to get the fuck off the road and into shelter. If you want to be there that bad, pay them to let you ride in the backseat and let them drive. You are probably not a scientist, these people are, and if things turn south (or north, I guess, most tornadoes don't track south) that's how you get people killed.

And now I must go to bed before I end up watching a ton of tornado videos all night when I have shit to do tomorrow. F in chat. Tornado time should be Always.

[bigboysteveharrington]

Argyle and Jonathan talk on the phone almost every day after the Byers move back to Hawkins

They talk more often than Jonathan talked to Nancy and are better at keeping in touch long-distance, but that’s really more a testament to Argyle’s dedication than anything else

Jonathan expects their friendship to drift away the longer he’s gone, but Argyle’s calling him all the time… Slow shift at work? Better call Jonathan and catch him up on what’s been going on in his life (and get the second hand scoop about people in Hawkins from Jonathan when he runs out of new things to tell him about because it’s only been 20 hours since their last phone call)… Argyle has very important high thoughts that are as deep as they are urgent to share? Better call Jonathan and share every last one of them that exact moment… Someone insults pineapple on pizza? You can bet Jonathan’s going to hear about it

The only problem is Argyle keeps forgetting about the time difference between California and Indiana so he regularly calls when it’s not that late in California, but it’s 3 hours later for the Byers

When Joyce is the one to answer the phone, she tries to politely tell him that it’s nice that he and Jonathan are still so close but maybe he could call back in the morning and try to keep his calls to earlier in the day from now on and Argyle always promises will do, Mrs. B only to forget all over again within a few days so she tries to work on getting Jonathan to convince him to call at more reasonable hours instead

When Will answers the phone, he rolls his eyes at how often he’s calling (while he’s also a little jealous that Jonathan is getting way more calls from Argyle now than he got from all his friends combined while they were in California) but he listens for a little bit as Argyle excitedly jabbers away at him and asks him questions until Will decides it’s getting annoying and either hands the phone over to Jonathan (or if it’s too late, he doesn’t listen to him at all and just says to call back tomorrow and hangs up before Argyle had a chance to respond)

El doesn’t answer the phone, but she’s not so bothered. She thinks it’s nice that Argyle calls so much and doesn’t see why Will rolls his eyes about it so often

When Jonathan answers, he stretches the phone cord as far away from the bedrooms as he can and stays up talking with Argyle with his voice low to try not to wake anyone else up

But Hopper? Hopper cannot stand losing sleep because some idiot from California can’t remember that it’s 2 in the morning for them (and honestly why is he trying to call to talk for an hour and a half at 11 pm his time anyway???) Every time, he forces his exhausted ass out of bed, whether he’s the first to the phone or not because it could be official police business and there could be a crime scene he’s needed at or some other kind of emergency putting them all in danger, but nope it’s just Argyle calling to catch up again

Hopper grumbles about it to Joyce when he gets back to bed and ends up unintentionally making sure that she’s just as awake now as he is with his tired bitching and Joyce is getting a bit fed up with it too, but she plays devil’s advocate and says I know the times he calls aren’t always great, but I don’t know. I think it’s kind of sweet he wants to keep in touch so much. It’s nice that they catch up on everything going on, even while they’re living so far away and Hopper gets back in bed as he grumbles how much could they possibly have to catch up on? They talked for hours two days ago

Argyle unintentionally and unknowingly becomes near Mike Wheeler levels of annoying to Hopper and Hopper grumbles nearly daily about how the phone line is always busy and he can’t get any consistent kind of sleep to save his life and could Jonathan please tell his friend to stop calling so late at night

From the moment it becomes clear that the long (and often late night) phone calls are going to be such a regular thing, Hopper is a little passive aggressive and huffy whenever he’s the one who answers the phone, but Argyle doesn’t mind and just brushes it off

It takes until one night when Hopper’s particularly sleep-deprived and grumpy and he gets to the phone first and full on yells into it that the time zones aren’t that hard to remember and that if he’s going to call, he can’t do it after 8 pm his time for Argyle to finally stop calling so late (but that doesn’t stop him from calling at a reasonable hour and him and Jonathan staying up talking until an unreasonable hour)

[frogtanii]

iwaizumi was... overwhelmed, to say the least.

the past few days had been such a whirlwind of change that hajime could barely properly process, much less appropriately react to it all, so he behaved much like a zombie, saying yes when prompted, signing papers when told, and packing up what was his entire life for the past 11 months.

wow. iwaizumi collapsed on his bed as he scanned his now barren bedroom. he’d been here for almost a year and yet, all his belongings were in boxes within a couple of days.

hajime couldn’t keep the disbelieving chuckle from escaping his chest as he leaned back on his bed, dark brown eyes trained on the ceiling.

it felt like he’d spent such a large chunk of his life trapped in this house, under the foot of the woman who he thought he’d marry but in reality, he’d been in little leagues longer than he’d been in love.

iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. yeah, “in love”. it’d been about a week since his whole life started to unravel and he had hardly seen, let alone spoken to meiko throughout that entire time.

over text, she’d sworn up and down that she loved and cared about him but as she passed by him packing his things a few days ago, she’d barely spared him a second glance.

hajime wasn’t going to lie. it hurt. he’d opened his heart up to her, something he didn’t do easily, and she’d taken his trust and used it to twist him into her weapon.

he always believed he was stronger than this — he’d never forget his mother telling him so when he was younger. he had fallen and scraped his knee yet he refused to cry to keep from upsetting his mom. iwaizumi existed to live up to what his mother thought of him but here he was, completely enveloped in meiko’s shit, doing her dirty work and following her bidding like some mutt.

god, toorū was right. he really was her bitch.

“i could hear you thinking from down the hall, iwa-chan.” speak of the devil...

oikawa stood at his doorway, leaning against the frame with a posture that seemed relaxed at first glance but if you looked a little closer, you’d notice the tenseness in his shoulders and the tightness of his smile.

hajime quickly sat up on his bed before motioning for his old friend to enter. “uh, yeah,” he began, his voice cracking a little from disuse, “i have a lot to think about.”

the light haired brunette let out an understanding hum before wandering into the room, sharp observant eyes darting to look at all the empty walls. “looks like you’re all packed.”

“pretty much,” iwaizumi nodded before the room fell into an awkward silence, the two childhood friends completely avoiding one another’s eyes.

“look, i-“

“iwa-chan, i’m-“

they both paused for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound carrying into the hall and throughout the house.

hajime wiped a few stray tears from his eyes, shaking his head at their awkwardness. “you first, shittykawa.”

toorū gasped in halfhearted mock offense before quickly sobering up, training iwaizumi with a completely serious look. “i’m sorry and before you go on some bullshit, self sacrificing rant, you’re not the only one to blame for what happened to our friendship.”

he sighed while making his way to iwaizumi’s bed, sitting down gently beside him. “i should’ve known better, okay? i shouldn’t have let my jealousy and insecurities get in between us but i guess i got swept up in the attention, yknow? meiko is actually charming when she wants to be.”

iwaizumi nodded in agreement, knowing all too well how compelling meiko could be. the room fell into a more comfortable silence as both boys escaped into their thoughts, questions about the future of their friendship flitting throughout their minds.

“oh!” oikawa was pulled out of his own head at hajime’s exclamation, his eyes moving to observe his friend dig through his pockets to procure a thick white envelope. “here. i’d like you to give this yn.”

all toorū could do was nod, his brain short circuiting at the sight of iwaizumi’s apparent kindness to the woman he tormented for so long. “uh, what’s in it?” he ventured to ask, his soft hands toying with the sealed envelope flap.

a soft chuckle came from across the bed. “don’t be so nosy toorū, just give it to her, yeah?” oikawa rolled his eyes but obliged, the bed creaking as he stood to his feet.

“so... this is it, huh?” it was like the reality of the situation was just now sinking in — they hadn’t been close in a while but iwaizumi was still his best friend and he wasn’t quite ready to let him go.

they’d been through so much together, practically growing up together and now, they’d only see each other on holidays, if even then, and then he’d never be invited to hajime’s wedding as his best man as they’d planned and he also wouldn’t be the coolest uncle/godfather of iwa’s children and—

“fuck no,” hajime scoffed with a bright grin on his face. “thought you were gonna annoy me til the end of time shittykawa. don’t tell me you’re quitting your job now.”

the hidden meaning behind iwaizumi’s words brought tears to oikawa’s eyes and before he could stop himself, he launched his body into iwa’s arms. hajime hesitated, his hands stuttering at toorū’s sides as though he’d forgotten how to hug but the feeling passed, his arms winding around his friend’s lithe waist.

“‘m gonna miss you hajime,” oikawa’s voice came out as a broken whimper, his arms tightening around his shoulders.

iwaizumi hummed instead of responding, too afraid of his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. they stood there for a moment but the honk of the moving truck outside signaled the both of them of their limited time.

hurriedly, oikawa wiped the tears off his cheeks before waving awkwardly at iwaizumi as he left the room with a friendly, “don’t be a stranger.”

and then he was gone.

toorū finally allowed himself to collapse into sobs on his best friends empty bed, his palms pressing into his eyes as he sat there and just let himself feel.

apparently, he wasn’t crying very quietly because it took only a few moments for you to find him, your soft footsteps alerting him to your presence. oikawa scrambled to wipe away what he knew was an unattractive mixture of tears and snot as you got closer.

you were one of the last people he wanted to see him like this.

“hey,” you whispered, standing a few feet away from him. “um, i know this is probably a bad time but i just wanted to thank you for apologizing? back at the awards show?”

toorū sniffed as he looked up at you with confusion written on his face. “what? you shouldn’t thank me for apologizing. ‘s common courtesy.”

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “well, not always. so, thank you.” finished with your piece and not too keen on lingering where you weren’t wanted, you moved towards the door but were swiftly stopped before you got there.

“um, here. it’s from iwa-chan.” you gaped at the thick envelope oikawa was handing you before taking it and opening it, a low curse falling from your lips.

inside the package was a dense wad of cash, more money than you’d seen in months. accompanied with it was a letter, written in beautifully loopy handwriting.

you shut it quickly before oikawa could see, stuffing the envelope deep within your pocket where you could access it alone in the depths of your room.

“do you wanna come eat? last i heard, bokuto and tsumu were doing a cooking competition and i’m sure it’ll be fun to watch.” you were severely thrown off by the money and letter but you were determined to show toorū that you’d accepted his apology and were on your way to making amends.

he gave you a shy nod and trailed behind you to the kitchen, the loud sounds of fire and screaming coming from down the hall. you wanted to focus on the fun and merriment but the envelope was practically burning a hole in your pocket.

later that night, you finally got the chance to open the letter and read it, your former manager’s words bringing tears to your eyes.

dear yn,

i’m probably the last person you expected to hear from. you probably didn’t want to hear from me at all if i’m being honest and i don’t blame you. i know there is nothing i can say that could make up for what i’ve done to you but i’d like to try.

i’m sorry. those words don’t nearly express in and of themselves how truly remorseful i am but they needed to be said. there’s no excuse for how i treated you — not meiko, not my stress, absolutely nothing.

you deserved my common decency and respect and i didn’t give that to you. instead, i abused my position and made your life hell. i’ll never forgive myself for that.

uh, i bet you’re wondering what the money is? i promise i’m not trying to pay you off, it’s just all the money i’ve denied you since you moved here. i have a lot of wrongs to right and this is one of them.

sorry, i’m not very good with words but i just wanted you to know that i’m very sorry for everything that i’ve done. and i’m in no place to make demands or anything but i just wanted to ask if you’d keep an eye on oikawa for me.

he’s strong but he’s also vulnerable. he might be a pain in my ass but he’s my best friend and since i can’t keep him from drowning, i was wondering if you’d do that - not for me but for him.

anyways, this letter is shit but i suppose you get the gist. use the money for whatever you want and if you’re as unselfish as i’ve heard, you don’t owe me anything. you don’t owe me money, kindness, or forgiveness.

take care of yourself,

iwaizumi hajime

℗ poker face

so... this is it

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - soooo m back :D hopefully this is the last of my mini hiatuses!! this chapter sucked to write but i’m not mad at how it turned out?? pls let me know how i did skjdkd don’t forget to feed me <3333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[firstbeachgoblin]

Hey! I hope you’re well, can i request an imagine where reader is Embry’s imprint and they haven’t seen eachother in months because reader has a life she can’t just drop for him but she comes back when the pack is blowing up her phone ? Thank youu and don’t worry if you don’t write it, it’s fine!

Thank you for the request! It took a Long time But It's now complete with a total whopping 5k words!! Any way I hope you enjoy the fic.

I put it under the cut because it's so long but it's my brain baby at the moment lo.

Returning to you.

Embry Call x Reader

5058 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most of my life has been spent in the Forks area so getting to travel to Europe for six months to see the art and culture was a dream come true. The past four months I’ve been travelling through Europe, starting in Greece and ending my trip in the Irish countryside.

The old art and architecture filled me with a joy that I could not get anywhere else in the world. The smells, sounds and sights all played their own part into the experience. I got to see the moon rise over Mount Olympus, the David by Michelangelo in the Vatican, tour through the Louvre, drink wine on the beaches of France and so much more. I’ve been living my best life.

It's been a dream to see the world, I've met so many new people and tried so much food. I’ve enjoyed every minute of my trip, but there was a part of me that longed for the beaches of La Push.

That part is Embry. Embry Call. My boyfriend, my pal, my love and my light. To me Embry is my everything and to him I’m his everything. That is one thing that has been made perfectly clear the past four months I’ve been away. Every day he’s told me he misses me and I know he means it, I’ve been told not just by him but also the rest of the pack.

Everyday I’ve woken up to ‘Good morning I miss you.” Sometimes he phones to tell me that he feels like he might die if I’m away for any longer. I always chuckle and tell him he will survive, it’s not like I’m going away forever; but that's what he feels like it is. This usually earns me a long winded whine from the other end of the line.

My phone buzzed against the smooth surface of the bedside table while Embry’s face flashed across my screen signalling that he’s calling. A smile graces my lips as I pick up the phone to be greeted with his loving voice.

“Hi (y/n)!! I miss you so much.” sadness was laced in his usual cheery greeting, it hurt my heart to be away from him but I would never trade this experience for anything. I’ve been planning this for years and I wasn’t going to pass up cheap plane tickets.

He filled me in on the pack's shenanigans, complaining about how they keep teasing him for being glued to his phone awaiting any updates I would send him. The later it got the heavier my eyelids seemed to feel, my speech started to slur with exhaustion of time zones while Embry continued to become more energetic with each passing minute.

“Em. . .” A yawn interrupted me mid sentence, a low whine emanated from the phone as he knew I would want to get to bed to have the energy for the long trip I’ll embark on tomorrow for Ireland, which is my last stop. I’d be spending the remaining two months of my trip in the lush countryside.

“I think I should get to sleep, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.” I mumbled into the phone.

“But (y/n)!” he dragged out. I knew he wanted to talk longer but I physically cannot do it. Even though Embry and I don’t live together officially yet, we’d talk into the early morning till one of us fell asleep.

“But (y/n) what?” I dragged out the ‘a’ matching his whine.

“I miss you and want you to come home.” I could hear him pause over line before he continued.

“Besides, sleeping isn’t the same without you.”

I ran my hand through my hair gently tugging on the roots easing the tension that’s built up over my trip. As much fun as I’ve had, he does have a point. Sleeping just isn’t the same without Em. My nights have been spent restless in beds that aren’t mine without the comforting touch of my boyfriend; but that doesn’t mean I can just drop everything and go back home.

“Em you know I can’t just pack everything and go home. . .” I looked at the painting that hung over the tv that sat opposite of my bed. A puppy-like whimper fell from his lips when he spoke again, his voice cracked like he was going to cry. It broke my heart hearing him upset.

“I-I know I just really miss you.”

“I know Embry I miss you too, but it’s only two more months then I’ll be home.”

We chatted for ten more minutes before I fell asleep on the phone. As much as I missed falling asleep in his warm embrace I can’t just fly back home, not yet at least.

The blaring of my alarm woke me from my slumber. The clock face read 6:02 a.m. taking everything within myself to peel back the blankets that encased me in their warm grip. I patted through the bed sheets to find my phone only to knock it onto the floor in the process.

My lock screen adorned a photo of Embry with icing smudged across his face from his birthday party but a swamp of text messages from the pack covered my favourite photo of him. Five texts from Leah, seven from Jake, nine texts from Paul, 12 texts and two missed calls from Sam and a whole group chat titled ‘(y/n) come home.’

The group chat kept pinging with the members of the pack who were still awake discussing the logistics of flying out to Ireland to take me back home. Was Embry really causing that much strife in the pack for them to create a group chat? Knowing him, it couldn’t be too far from the truth.

Leah and I call once a week to check in and make sure the other is doing okay since I left. It’s one of my favourite parts of the week being able to have a one on one with someone sensible. Every week she fills me in on Embry begrudgingly, she does it because she knows it makes me happy which I appreciate.

Reading through her texts she didn’t say much in regards to Em’s behaviour the only message relating to him was “come get your man child please, he’s getting snot on the floor.”

I listened through Sam’s voice mails which were begging me to come home, he informed me that once Em knew I was asleep he started moping around Emily’s house again for the fourth consecutive night in a row. This was news to me.

The texts entailed that Embry was becoming a pain on patrol and that Paul ‘couldn’t take another minute of the incessant whining.’ I told them the same thing I told Embry; I’m not dropping everything and rushing back home to sooth the wails of a love sick boy. There isn’t much I can do from across the ocean anyway.

I stretched my body and headed towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower before I had to leave for the airport.

I packed the few remaining things I left out to prepare for the flight and headed my way to the lobby to check out. I enjoyed travelling but I wasn’t going to miss sleeping in hotels and hostels.

Two weeks have passed since I touched down in Ireland and to say I’ve been having the time of my life is an understatement; I’ve been having a ball living my best life.

The land was capped in a luscious emerald green sea of grass that waved in the wind, the roads were lined with hand built stone walls that marked the division of farmers fields.

Sheep and cattle grazed in pastures, and old castles dotted the countryside. It was gorgeous. It was a view that I wanted to see again, a view I want to see with Embry.

It felt like time was flying by between sight seeing, trail hiking, museum tours and calls with Embry and Leah. It has already been a month. I had one more month before I was to jet set back to the U.S. and see my Embry.

One more month before I was back in La Push surrounded by the scent of sea water and trees with the looming threat of rain constantly overhead except in the summer. For two months of the year La Push was bright and sunny with the expected summer storms that happened.

I had fallen asleep on the phone with Embry again when I realized my phone was lost in the sea of sheets as it buzzed with an incoming phone call.

I couldn’t find it until the call had gone to voicemail and my phone landed on the ground when I gave up and ripped the blankets off of the bed but whoever called must have felt it was really important. Picking up my phone the most unflattering photo of Jacob was plastered on the screen, his name in white.

“Hello?” I asked groggily into the phone, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I looked over at the clock which said in bold red numbers 1 am.

“Hey (y/n)! You sound like you just woke up.” I heard him chortle from the other end.

“That’s because I just woke up Jake, it’s one in the morning.” a yawn escaped my lips, I know I’ll have a rough time getting over jet lag when I go home.

He occupied twenty minutes with idle chatter and borderline interrogation about all the sights I’ve seen before I asked him why he was calling me so early in the morning

“Embry has spent the week at my house, you need to come home there’s nothing we can do anymore to occupy him till you return.” He sighed, Jake knows I want to finish my trip but we made a deal that I would come home early if there were absolutely no options left to keep Embry from sending the pack into hysterics.

I knew he was buttering me up for something.

“Are you sure you can’t figure something out? It’s just another month!”

“Another month of him eating my cereal and getting dirt on me from my dad!”

I snorted with laughter at the fact that Billy was telling Embry every embarrassing detail from his childhood.

“Jake please just let me think about it okay?” I sighed, flopping back into my hollowed cave of blankets and sheets.

“Okay, I’ll let you think about it but don’t think I won’t be telling Sam.” he warned.

We laughed together and he wished me a good night before hanging up the phone, before I slipped back into slumber I sent Jake one more text.

‘You wake me up at one in the morning again and it’s over for you.’ in which he responded with ‘Oh no I’m so scared lol.’

I reached over to the bedside table and plugged my phone in before the sweet embrace of warmth and slumber took over my senses.

The next three days I was bombarded with texts from Paul whining about the wolf mind link and how every patrol shift he had with Embry was spent tuning out his constant thoughts of me.

Standing in the shower with hot water running over my skin soothing my tense muscles I heard my phone buzz against the granite countertop. I rolled my eyes and continued to bask in the endless hotel hot water.

As bad as staying in hotels could be, the hot water made up for the early breakfast and sheets that were tucked in a little too tightly.

I had shampoo in my hair when my phone started buzzing again, this time with a call. I grumbled under the stream of water washing away the soap before it could get in my eyes; whoever's calling can wait.

I moved on to conditioning my hair, letting it sit while I wash the rest of my body with a lightly scented lavender soap.

I refused to use the complimentary soap because it dried out my skin and the lotion just left me feeling sticky instead of moisturized.

Watching the soap run down the drain my phone rang again, I clenched my fists, who could possibly be calling me now? I still refused to get out of my steamy heaven to answer my phone.

My gut told me that whoever was calling wouldn’t let up until I answered. I washed out the conditioner from my hair and wrapped it in a towel.

The mirror was coated in a layer of steam, the tiles were cool against my feet. I wrapped the plush towel around my body, mopping up the droplets of water that remained.

My phone started vibrating with rapid fire text messages from the pack’s group chat they made a month ago. I sighed, picking it up to sift through the messages. I read a message from Jared telling me he’d pay me to return.

The pack always made me laugh, together they’re a walking sitcom. There is never a dull moment with them, someone always had something witty or sarcastic to say.

I checked to see who had called me and it turned out it was Sam, I listened to his voice mails and immediately phoned him back.

As soon as I hit the call button it only rang for half a second before he picked up.

“Thank you for calling back, I thought I’d have to call two more times.” he chuckled.

“Well I was in the middle of a shower, can’t really take a call there.” I moved through the room with my phone pressed between my shoulder and cheek. Stopping at my suitcase to pick out what I was going to wear for the day.

“I’m going to be frank with you, I need you to come home. . .” I let out a huff before he continued.

“Embry needs you badly, he’s just a pile of mush on the floor now. It’s a chore to get him up to go on patrol. Please?”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can do Sam, I’ll try to book a flight for the earliest date I can find.” I knew I was giving in but from what they were telling me and the constant texts were getting to be difficult to manage.

“Thank you, when you get back I’ll buy you take out for a month okay?”

“I hate that you know what my weakness is.” I laughed through the phone, a month of free take out? Hell yeah. It made the prospect of going back a little brighter since I wasn’t going to complete the rest of my trip.

I wasn’t losing out on too much though, I had seen and done everything that I wanted. It wouldn’t be too bad to go home early.

We talked for a couple more minutes before parting ways, I threw my phone on the bed and watched it bounce a couple times before turning my attention back to getting dressed. Since I had a flight to book it was okay to spend the rest of the day lounging in pj’s.

The soft fabric of my pj’s brushed against my skin as I jumped into bed with my computer in hand, and now it was time to book a flight back home. Maybe text Paul and tell him he can quit complaining as well.

I woke up the next morning with my flight booked for take off in the afternoon and my daily good morning text from Embry. I felt a little sad to be leaving such a beautiful country but the trees, ocean and Embry all called my name.

Pacing through the room I grabbed the comfiest set of clothes I packed for my return flight back to Seattle, I had enough time to sleep on the plane to be conscious enough for the three and a half hour drive back to La Push.

I was set for a long day ahead of me but it was going to be worth it in the end, seeing the bright and happy face of my boyfriend, getting to hug him and kiss him again.

I made one last check of the room before I gathered my clothes and toiletry kit and made my way into the bathroom to shower before my long flight. As I was stepping into the shower my phone pinged from the counter with a text from Sam.

“Have you booked that flight yet?” it read.

“Yeah I’m due for take off at 1. I should be back in La Push some time tomorrow!”

My fingers brushed the cool surface of the counter top as I put my phone back and got into the shower, hot water immediately running down my back; this time my phone wasn’t being blown up by a desperate wolf pack trying to get my attention.

I can’t sit in the shower for hours on end this time, I have a flight to catch and a boy to surprise. Embry was currently still under the impression that I would be coming home in two weeks. Boy would he be in for a surprise.

The residual steam wafted out of the bathroom while I brushed my teeth revealing my towel wrapped body and hair in the mirror behind the skin. I checked the time and noted that I had two hours to check out, make my way to the airport, and check into my flight back home. Two more hours before I could smell the trees and ocean, two more hours before I could see my friends and hug Embry.

The time managed to move by in a blur by the time I was shutting the trunk of the yellow cab that was going to drop me off at the airport. I got into the back seat and the driver peeled away from the hotel front onto the winding roads.

“Aye where are you headin’?” The driver inquired in a thick Irish accent.

One thing I noticed in my stay here was that the accent changed in every town or village I passed through. It added to the charm

“Well, I’m on my way home after spending six months in Europe.” My eyes scanned over the green hills that rushed past in a blur.

“My favourite places I’ve been have definitely been Ireland and Greece.” I smiled towards him.

The lines around his eyes crinkled with the smile that graced his face at the mention of Ireland.

“Well that’s good to hear innit? Glad you’ve enjoyed your stay. We welcome ya with open arms if you return.”

We held a light conversation until we arrived in front of the drop off area for passengers, thanked him and grabbed my bags before heading into the crowded lobby.

The front of the terminal was metal and glass that reached towards the heavens with automatic doors gaping open like a mouth. Inside was a dull white with light grey floor which my shoes clicked against with each step.

It was packed with people like a can of sardines, I weaved my way through the masses towards the check in desk which thankfully only had a short line to get through.

Under the mix of fluorescents and natural light the desk lady’s bags that donned under her eyes glared with visible exhaustion from the mass amounts of people that swarmed the terminal.

Despite her clear drowsiness she still greeted me with a warm smile and a soft hello.

I grabbed my ticket and thanked her then turned and pushed myself through to the security check, dropped my luggage off and took a seat to wait for the boarding call for my flight.

As I waited grey clouds started to fill the sky blocking out the little sun that was once shining in its place.

My eyes grew heavier by each minute that passed, waiting could be hard, but waiting in an airport where there’s no sense of time is worse. So I distracted myself by people watching.

A lady was bouncing her baby, the old man across from me was snoring. A businessman paced back and forth speaking urgently into his phone, a family chatted excitedly for their family trip to the Canary Islands.

I pulled my eyes away from them as the call for my flight rang out over the crowded terminal, grabbing my suitcase and making my way towards the gate.

Excitement filled my every step as the anticipation grew and bubbled inside me. I gave the greeting flight attendant a small smile and made my way to my seat, for being last minute I managed to get a window seat.

We sat on the tarmac for twenty minutes before taking off and before I knew it the seat belt light pinged off and I was fast asleep jet setting my way back to America, back to my home.

I couldn’t tell what time it was when I woke up but the clock on the tv screen said 2 a.m. and that we’re due to arrive in an hour. I sat up in my seat and gazed out the window into the starry night sky.

Energy started to course through me as I watched the arrival time tick closer and closer. A light rain misted down over Seattle as I left the Seatac terminal and made my way through the maze of cars in the night that was made darker by the rain.

I spotted my blue Subaru and popped the trunk so my interior and seats wouldn’t get wet. It had been a long six months since I last sat in my driver's seat, the wheel almost felt foreign in my hands as I turned the key and listened to the engine roar to life.

I drove through the winding roads of the city to the Seattle-Bainbridge Ferry to take the 45 minute ride into Bainbridge and headed North to get on the 101 then turn onto 110 which would take me back into the heart of La Push.

The closer I got to Forks the brighter the sky became; well as bright as it could be on a gloomy day. The clouds became painted in the glow of purple and pink as the sun rose over the horizon, the rain had let up and left me with an overcast sky for the remainder of the drive back.

Since I slept virtually the entire flight back I didn’t feel the weight of exhaustion at all, but surely when I arrived back in the arms of Embry I knew I’d hit the wall with sleep deprivation.

As I barreled through the corridor of trees I passed the signature ‘welcome to Forks’ sign and turned right onto the 110, twenty minutes to home. I was so close but my soul felt like it was light years away.

The clock on my radio told me that it was currently 6:45, the pinks and purples that coated the sky faded away to the typical grey that fills my senses with delight. Sea salt and washed up kelp started to seep into the air that circulated into my car making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Closer to Beach Drive I got the stronger the smell of the ocean became. The turn signal clicked as I turned onto the road that gave way to Sam and Emily’s house so they could take me over to Embry’s in the off chance that he happened to be awake at this hour.

It’s highly unlikely that he would be up at this hour but it’s not something I could be one hundred percent positive about. I stepped out of my car and turned around to see Emily running as fast as she possibly could towards me with open arms and a huge smile plastered across her face.

Dropping my bags I dashed across their lawn into her embrace.

“Oh (y/n)! I missed you so much, you must be so tired.” She released me from her hug and settled her hands on my shoulders giving them a gentle squeeze.

“I missed you too Emily, I knew I’d be tired but not this tired.” I chuckled while wiping at my under eyes in a feeble attempt to wipe away the exhaustion.

She put her hand on my lower back and led me inside for the awaiting cup of tea while Sam moved my bags into his truck.

The warmth of their home embraced me, the comfort of their kitchen was familiar. The only thing missing was the rowdy group of boys that made up the pack who usually occupied every available seat in the home.

I took a seat at the kitchen table where three cups of tea sat waiting, I should have expected a q and a when I returned. Wrapping my hands around the mug the warmth that radiated from it filled my hands.

Emily took a seat beside me and Sam entered through the door and sat adjacent to both of us.

“So how was the trip?” We sat around their table chatting until our cups were empty and filed out of the house into the early morning air.

“Emily and I will drive your car back to your place after I drop you off at Embry’s, the kid’s been sleeping in my living room more often than I’d appreciate.” Sam’s eyes crinkled with a smile, I knew he was joking but at the same time there was truth to his words; and honestly I couldn’t blame him.

“Thank you for putting up with him while I was gone, I owe you guys one and you owe me take out for a month.” He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair turning into the Call's driveway. Embry’s mom had already left for work leaving him to his own devices; which meant he would sleep in as late as his heart desired.

We got out of Sam’s truck and he dropped my bags on the doorstep. I turned and gave him a quick hug and a thank you before sticking my key into the lock.

The door creaked open and I dragged my suitcases to a stop in their front entry way and shut it behind me.

My shoes landed on the floor with a soft thud and I gingerly walked up the stairs to ensure I wasn’t too noisy while making sure to avoid the one squeaky stair.

I got to the top of the stairs and hung a left down their light beige hallway that gave way to the oak door that guarded Embry’s room. His soft snores filtered through the door, it’s door knob was cool in my hand. Making an audible click with the turn of my wrist.

Dark mahogany brown hair peaked up from beneath the sheet that tucked Embry’s body out of view. One pillow was on the floor while the other was tucked firmly between his cheek and arm, I smiled at the sight of my sleeping boyfriend which filled my every inch with the utmost joy.

My sock covered feet pressed into the carpeted flooring with each step I took towards his bed making sure to step over the piles of dirty clothes that were scattered around the room.

The sun filtered through the gaps in the window blinds casting pools of golden light on the floor and along his walls causing the crystal prism that hung above his closet to sweep dashes of colour across his walls.

I pulled back the grey top sheet to reveal his peaceful face and I swear my heart was going to burst with the amount of love that I feel for him. His hair was tousled in every direction and a cow lick stuck straight up on the left side of his head.

My hands ran over his hair, smoothing it out while I whispered his name. Embry groaned a bit and rolled over, I whispered his name a little bit louder and moved my hands from his hair to his shoulders running them along his arms finally waking him from his slumber.

“Hi Em!” I gushed out as his brown eyes opened and focused on me. His face split with his toothy smile and his arms shot around me, pulling me down into his chest.

“Do you know how much I missed you?” Embry mumbled into my hair.

“I figured a lot with the amount of texts I got from the pack.” I reached up brushing the hair from his face.

“You can never leave me for that long again. . .I didn’t know what to do without you here.” He ran his hands through my hair placing a gentle kiss upon the top of my head.

“I was so worried about you. I couldn’t protect you and make sure you were safe.”

“Well next time I’ll make sure you can come, then you don’t have to worry.” Craning my neck up I placed a kiss upon his lips which were still a bit swollen from slumber.

“The important thing is that I returned safe and in one piece. The other important thing is I get to spoil you with the gifts I brought back!”

His laugh filled the room sending vibrations through my body.

“Hey! That’s my job to spoil you, not the other way around.” He ruffled my hair causing us both to laugh. I peeled off my socks and wiggled my way under his blanket.

“I think it’s time we catch up on six months worth of cuddling.” I poked a finger into his side.

“Yeah I think that’s a good idea, you owe me for being gone so long.”

“What? I came back early!” His hands made their way under my shirt to rest on the bare skin of my back sending waves of heat through my body from being pressed into him. Oh how I missed my heater.

“Yeah, by like what? Two weeks?” his silky voice chuckled out.

“I missed you Embry.” I told him, placing a kiss on his exposed shoulder.

“I missed you too. Now let's go back to sleep, you look tired.” He said to me as he rested his chin atop my head and pulling me closer.

[gavin-plz-call-me]

The Brothers + Dateables & Luke react to MC owning a cat named lucifer

A/N- To attempt to avoid confusion, the demon Lucifer’s name will always be capitalized, while the cat lucifer’s name will never be capitalized.

~

“Now,” Diavolo said, obviously nearing the end of his speech, “Do you have any more questions, MC?”

You nod, “Is my cat up there all by himself?” you ask, “I don’t want him to get lonely, and without me he wont have anyone to feed him.”

The men, no, the demons in front of you stared, all obviously dumbstruck. You had been ripped out of your home, brought to a strange place, and told you were to live here for a year, and your first thought was of your cat? What a strange human you were.

“We can arrange someone to take care of your cat,” Diavolo said, smiling wide, but your face fell at his words. Diavolo seemed to sense your discontent as he spoke again, “Or we can arrange for your cat to be brought here?”

“Yes, please,” you spoke almost immediately.

Diavolo called for a demon named Barbatos, telling him to go to the human world to retrieve your cat. He disappeared then reappeared in a matter of seconds, your cat laying comfortably in his arms.

“Oh, lucifer,” You cooed, taking your cat away from Barbatos, kissing the cat’s forehead.

The hall went silent once again, before someone, the demon they introduced as Asmodeus, spoke up, “Honey, that’s Barbatos.” He said, a slight chuckle laced within the words.

Confused, you glance back up at the hall of demons, you point to your cat, “No? His name is lucifer.”

Lucifer

Can't decide if he's confused or insulted.

He's confused because, who the hell would someone name a cat of all things after a demon

and he's insulted because WHO THE HELL WOULD NAME A CAT AFTER HIM?

He's one of the strongest Demons in the Devildom, much stronger than a mere housecat, the insinuation that he, Lucifer, avatar of pride, shares anything in common with a cat has him fuming.

Of course, he shows none of these emotions outwardly, keeping his face stoic as always.

And any one of his brothers who dare joke about this cat's name will be hanged from the ceiling in a matter of seconds.

Is fairly annoyed with their shared name in day-to-day life, and not just because it's insulting.

But, many times a day, Lucifer'll hear his name called through the halls and, when he goes to investigate, one of his brothers is cooing over the damned pun intended cat.

Will eventually get used to lucifer and will definitely be seen cuddling with him.

Is like the dad who insists he doesn't want a cat, but as soon as he gets one they're inseparable.

At the end of the day, he loves that damn cat.

Mammon

Laughs out loud at the revelation that the cat's name is lucifer.

Until he realizes now he has to look after the human and the cat.

Will complain about it in typical Mammon fashion, but he warms up to lucifer about as quickly as he warms up to you.

Buys him a bunch of cat toys when he has the grimm, and loves to play with him

especially with a laser pointer.

Also loves to cuddle, but always acts very tsundere about it.

"What is it lucifer? Oh, of course, you want to cuddle with the Great Mammon."

Will either steal lucifer from your room at night, or sleep in your room to cuddle with him and totally not you, of course, but you should be honored he's even sleeping in your room.

Leviathan

Thinks it's hilarious as well.

Though he prefers anime, Levi is well versed in other human media, especially classic Disney films, so, because of Cinderella, he's well aware that lucifer is a popular cat name in the human realm.

That doesn't make it any less funny, though.

WILL NOT allow lucifer into his room.

He has too many expensive figurines to risk it

Plus, he doesn't want to risk Henry 2.0 getting hurt.

Will only play with, pet, or cuddle with lucifer if he initiates it.

"He probably doesn't want to be pet by a gross otaku like me," as if cats know what otakus are.

Will, at some point, sew lucifer a costume that looks suspiciously like what his older brother tends to wear.

He may or may not have been hanged for that one, but it was totally worth it.

Satan

Like Lucifer, Satan is conflicted.

On one hand, cat! He loves cats, he wants to pet this cat all day, and give him kisses and cuddles and love.

On the other hand, Satan would rather his soul be ripped apart than give love to something named after Lucifer.

Will try his hardest to completely ignore the cat's existence.

Has to leave the room if lucifer comes in because he can't trust himself to not pet him.

Is like this with lucifer until he sees him respond to the name luci as well.

After that, you cannot separate Satan from lucifer even if you tried.

Spoils him rotten.

The two are often found reading together in the library, Satan leisurely petting lucifer.

Fights with Mammon at least once a day for lucifer and always wins.

Goes on long rants about how cat lucifer is much better in every way than demon Lucifer.

Asmodeus

Another one who thinks it's hilarious.

Definitely thinks lucifer is cute but hates all the shedding, so he usually keeps his distance.

Like Levi, Asmo doesn't allow lucifer in his room.

Will constantly complain about fur getting all over his clothes.

Has had to buy more lint rollers in the first year you spent in the Devildom than he had bought in the last century.

Constantly posts pictures of lucifer on his Devilgram because, despite being a furry monster, he is just the cutest little kitten around.

Beelzebub

Thinks the name is a bit weird but accepts it pretty quickly.

It's just a name, after all, lots of people who are very different share names.

lucifer's food has to be hidden from Beel because he can, and will, eat it.

"It just smelled so good, and I was so hungry."

Apologizes by buying him some luxury cat treats that took all of Bee's willpower not to eat on the way home.

At first, he won't interact with lucifer unless lucifer approaches him.

Beel is so big, and lucifer is so small, he doesn't want to crush the little cat.

But with enough time and reinforcement, Beel will pick lucifer up himself for some much-needed cuddles.

Before Belphie comes down from the attic, Beel'll bring lucifer up to their room at night when he's feeling a bit more lonely than usual.

Beel will invite you up to his room as well.

Belphegor

Finds out about lucifer after everyone else, due to the whole, being locked in the attic, thing.

Hears Asmo trying to coax lucifer into a good pose from down the hall.

"Oh lucifer, cutie pie, you gotta look at the camera."

Is surprised that Asmo is still alive talking to Lucifer like that.

Is even more surprised when he turns the corner to find Asmo talking to a cat, not his eldest brother.

Thinks it's hilarious, but Lucifer is already over it so teasing him about it doesn't do much.

Won't actively seek out lucifer's attention, but will gladly nap with him.

Beel continues his habit of bringing lucifer up to their room for cuddles when Belphie returns, so the three of them usually end up in a big cuddle pile.

Bonus points if he brings you up too.

Diavolo

Thinks it's very amusing.

Laughs about it, probably for a bit too long.

He can't help it, especially because he knows Lucifer is most definitely a bit upset about it.

Will tease Lucifer once or twice about it, but will ultimately leave it alone.

When he visits the House of Lamentation, he'll give lucifer a nice pat, hello, but won't go very far beyond that.

Barbatos

Read lucifer's name tag while he was collecting him from the human realm.

Wasn't surprised in the slightest because nothing ever surprises him

Is definitely excited to see everyone's reactions to his name, and is not disappointed.

If given the chance, he will spend hours brushing lucifer's fur and pampering him

but doesn't get the chance to do so often, if ever.

Solomon

Has had a cat named lucifer in the past.

I mean, he's lived hundreds of years, it's not out of the realm of possibilities.

Named his own cat lucifer because he thought it was funny, and the humor hasn't faded since.

So he's very amused by this new lucifer in his life.

Will unabashedly cuddle and play with lucifer whenever he's given the chance.

I mean, this lucifer reminds him of his own cat, so he becomes pretty attached pretty quickly.

Whenever he visits the House of Lamentation, he'll hold lucifer until the very last minute he possibly can, and will be pretty sad when he has to leave.

Will joke about stealing lucifer, may actually try to steal him.

Simeon

Like Levi, Simeon is pretty well versed in human media, so the concept of cats named lucifer isn't new to him.

Still finds it a bit funny nonetheless.

Tells Michael right away.

Likes cats well enough, and, when he's in the House of Lamentation, will seek out a few pets from the kitten

but he doesn't venture to the House of Lamentation too often, so he never grows too close to lucifer.

Luke

WHY? WOULD YOU NAME A CAT? AFTER A DEMON?

There are so many better names for a cat!

Like whiskers, or oreo, or simba.

Is genuinely confused, and maybe even a bit concerned.

He's afraid you were consorting with demons before coming to the Devildom and that's why you named him lucifer.

After his brief stay in the House of Lamentation, Luke is absolutely in love with lucifer.

Plays with him constantly.

Wants to pick him up, but doesn't know how to.

Luke will end up getting scratched eventually, but Luke forgives him.

Bakes lucifer special cat treats and hopes you'll let him feed lucifer one.

[marwritesgood]

Only You | S. Basset

Pairing: Simon x WOC!Reader

Timeframe: Season One

Summary: While Y/n prepares to leave London, Simon is confronted by Philippa.

PART ONE

masterlist

A/N: One more part after this :)

Y/n sat with the eldest of her cousins in the drawing-room. Despite the number of workers present and eligible, young Elizabeth begged her older cousin to braid her hair before she left. Y/n could not resist her sweet smile. She also knew she would miss Philippa’s children terribly, just as she would Philippa.

“There you are!”

Y/n and Elizabeth jumped at Philippa’s abrupt call. 

“I’ve called for a carriage as you requested, my dear,” Philippa began as she sat with her niece and daughter. She could no longer bring herself to hide her concern and sorrow. “Though I hope you know there is still plenty of time to reconsider your decision.”

Even if it were at the very last moment, if Y/n were to say she wanted to stay, Philippa would be ready to call it off in a moment’s notice. 

“My mind is decided, aunt Philippa,” Y/n responded monotonously. She intentionally averted her eyes from her aunt. Philippa knew her niece far too well. Y/n’s best chance at concealing her genuine emotions was to avoid looking her aunt in the eye.

Truthfully, she was terrified. Y/n had become accustomed to floating through seasons with no intention of marrying anytime soon. The prospect of finally accepting a marriage proposal, to a man she had no sincere desire to marry, was frightening. She could not let Philippa know for fear that she would convince her to do otherwise. 

“Lizzie,” Philippa whispered to her daughter. “Dear, please join your siblings in the other room.”

Y/n sighed defeatedly. She should have known better than to think she could keep anything from her aunt. Her cousin exited the room in a half-done braid, leaving Y/n to stare at her hands while her aunt studied her intently.

“You must understand the magnitude of what you plan to do,” Philippa said worriedly. That is what she feared most of the situation. She could not bear the thought of Y/n being miserable because of a decision she made in the heat of the moment. “I know you are hurt, dear, but you do not have to leave so soon.”

Y/n sniffled, taking her aunt by surprise. She could no longer hold back her tears. Not after the exhaustingly painful week, she had endured. 

“I do, aunt Philippa,” Y/n cried, laughing bitterly. Philippa’s brows knitted together in both confusion and concern. “I cannot bear to stay in London another day... The longer I stay here, the harder it will be to leave.”

Philippa frowned, lifting her hands to wipe Y/n’s tears away. She had not yet found out what happened between her niece and Simon. All she could conclude was that Y/n’s heart was broken finally again.

“He admitted to courting Miss Bridgerton,” Y/n explained. It pained her to recount what Simon said the night before, but she felt it was the only way to put rest to Philippa’s attempts to keep her in London. “- and he admitted he intends to marry her.”

Philippa inhaled sharply, closing her eyes tightly as she did so. Though she did not have an incredibly close relationship with Simon, she always believed him to be a good man. A man who cared deeply for her niece. 

Glancing back to her niece, Philippa pursed her lips and pulled Y/n into her arms, hugging her closely. As she cried softly into her shoulder, anger began to erupt within Philippa. Y/n was the last person she deemed worthy of such heartbreak.

“The carriage will be here before evening,” Philippa informed Y/n, who was grateful that she would no longer keep her from leaving. “I have one matter to attend to, but I will be home before you to leave.”

Y/n nodded before returning to her younger cousins. Once she left, Philippa called for a carriage to take her to the Danbury estate. She had more than a few unkind words to offer the Duke of Hastings.

***

Simon found himself, yet again, standing idle in the maze’s centre outside the Danbury estate. He had barely any rest the night before, so he headed straight to the maze once there was sunlight.

Before he could leave, however, of Daphne being introduced to Prince Friedrich reached him. Thus there ruse was no longer necessary, subsequently leaving Simon in dire need of a moment alone with his frustration.

If he had only told Y/n the truth the night before. If he had only kept her from leaving. If he had not rejected her in the first place. Perhaps he would not be in the situation he was in. 

“Your grace.”

Simon’s train of thought was abruptly broken when a worker approached him. He turned to face the man, eyebrows raised. The worker held his hands behind his back.

“You have a visitor waiting for you in the sitting room,” he explained. When Simon remained silent, the worker specified who it was. “... Lady Bennet.”

Simon’s heart began to pound. He nodded and returned inside with haste. Philippa Bennet, though kind and friendly by nature, could scare him half to death. Simon remembered watching how she would fearlessly berate and humiliate any man who so much as treated Y/n less than kindly. 

He never imagined he would be one.

Once he was inside, he halted outside the entrance to the sitting room. There was no telling how Philippa would treat him, especially after the way he had treated her niece before. Simon took several deep breaths before he cautiously entered the room.

“Lady Bennet,” he greeted as he walked in, his head bowed partially in shame and partly in fear.

“Your grace,” she responded, her tone sharp and piercing. 

She stood from her seat and glared at the duke as he made his way in. She spoke previously to Lady Danbury, who left just moments before Simon entered. It wasn’t until the worker exited the room, closing the door behind him, that she began to raise her voice. 

“You can be of no loss to understand why I am here.”

Simon remained silence, which provided Philippa with as much of a response as she needed.

“My niece just informed me today of your revelation to her at the gala,” she stated, referencing to him admitting to courting Daphne with the intention of marrying, which was not the truth. “I assume you have an explanation, your grace... Otherwise, you truly are the deceitful, heartless man I never imagined you would become.”

Simon winced at the description. It resembled too much of his father, which was the last kind of man he ever intended to become. Philippa raised her brow and remained silent, waiting for the explanation she knew would eventually be provided.

“I was dishonest,” he confessed, his expression overcome by the shame and guilt he been burdened by for the past week. Philippa remained puzzled, though relieved that there was more to the story than what her niece was led to believe. “My courtship of Miss Bridgerton was all an act... To help attract more suitors for her, and to improve my image in the public eye.”

Philippa folded her arms. While she was glad to hear that he was not actually courting another woman after Y/n, she was still angered by what he had done. Not to mention the immense pain it inflicted upon her niece.

“I assume you lied to my niece as a means of upholding your ruse?” 

He was taken by surprise, having expected her to scold him for his stupidity, just as he believed he deserved. His expectations were not necessarily misguided. Philippa intended to do just that. However, she first sought clarification.

“Yes,” Simon admitted sheepishly.

“I heard from Lady Danbury that Miss Bridgerton will soon be courted by Prince Friedrich... Does this mean your lie will no longer continue?”

Simon nodded, causing Philippa to sigh. Her line of questioning made incredibly clear to him how unnecessarily reckless he had been with Y/n’s heart. She was astonished by his foolishness. He could tell.

“I am deeply sorry, Lady Bennet-”

“I do not care for your apologies,” Philippa hissed, causing Simon to sink back. “You are to explain this to my niece yourself... She must hear the truth from you.”

Though Philippa was desperate to race home and tell Y/n the truth, she knew there would still be heartache on her behalf. Only Simon could indeed amend the issue.

“I cannot,” Simon cried, before inhaling sharply as he went to complete his sentence. “-I cannot bear to face her... I imagine I am the last person she wishes to speak to.”

“You are mistaken, your grace,” Philippa said flatly. He could not have been further from the truth. “I have often, particularly now, struggled to understand why... but she cares for you. Very much so. Even despite all the pain, you seemingly continue to cause her.”

“That, I struggle to believe,” Simon mumbled.

Philippa scoffed. It was a wonder Y/n was in so much pain. He seemed to consistently underestimate just how much she cared for him. She pondered for a moment, thinking of the best way to clarify to Simon the extent to which Y/n loved him.

“This is her second season,” Philippa stated, slowing her speech just to make absolute sure Simon could understand her point. “-and she has yet to be married... why do you think that is?”  

He stared blankly at Philippa, which only infuriated her more, though she continued, despite it.

“I was incredibly confused when I received a distraught letter from my sister at the end of last season,” Philippa began. “-She informed that Y/n had received 3 proposals... all from, what she described as, honourable men.” 

Philippa studied Simon’s reaction closely, hoping he would catch on soon. He was taken back. During Y/n’s first season, he feared the day she accepted a marriage proposal. 

“My confusion was then, of course, put to rest when I remembered Y/n confiding in me about her affections for you.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. It was not possible, he believed. After he turned Y/n away following her confession, he assumed her feelings would fade. 

He deemed his love for Y/n inevitable because loving her was easy to do and difficult to avoid. But he believed loving him was a challenge; a chore. He saw himself as broken. Haunted by the trauma inflicted upon him by his father. His vow to never marry was, truthfully, not the only reason he rejected Y/n.

Simon did not believe Y/n truly loved him. He struggled to imagine anyone could.

“You cannot possibly insinuate that I-”

“You idiotic fool!” Philippa blurted, interrupting Simon from, yet again, downplaying just how much Y/n cared for him. “Forgive me, your grace, but she confessed her feelings to you, did she not? Thus surely you must know how much she cares for you... you must know, Simon.”

He was dumbfounded. Overwhelmed by the prospect that Y/n’s love for him was true, tears stung the corners of his eyes. Philippa could not believe it. She knew of Simon’s past, but she was shocked to see how much of an effect it had on the poor duke. How unwilling he was to accept that he was loved. 

Sincerely and unconditionally.

“She intends to leave London this evening,” Philippa sighed sadly. Before she spoke again, she moved closer to Simon, looking him in the eye intently. She felt sympathy having understood why he acted the way he did, but she would not let him continue to do so. “If you truly care for my niece, you will not allow her to leave today without knowing the truth... She deserves as much after all she has done for you.”

Philippa exited the room briefly afterwards, leaving Simon to contemplate how on earth he would earn Y/n’s forgiveness and her trust.

***

Lady Danbury was puzzled as she watched Philippa Bennet rush out of her estate hastily. They had shared a brief conversation before she left, just as Simon arrived in from outside. Philippa had informed Danbury of Y/n’s plans to leave London and accept Mr Graham’s marriage proposal. 

While she knew the situation was tense, Lady Danbury sat with ease, on the outside seating area towards the left side. Of the many roles she played in her life and society, the matchmaker was one she most enjoyed. 

She hummed to herself as she took a sip of her earl grey tea, amused by the thrill of the current situation. Once Philippa’s carriage was out of sight, Lady Danbury began to count backwards from twenty. As she reached one, the sound of Simon’s quick-paced footsteps became increasingly loud.

“What seems to be troubling you, your grace.”

Most would have been startled by how Lady Danbury spoke with her back to Simon, but he had grown used to her being a step ahead of him. In fact, that was the very reason he found himself turning to her.

“I presume you already know,” he answered as he sat in the chair beside her.

Danbury chuckled, placing her cup back on the table before turning to her pseudo-nephew. He loved him as her own son, but she was far from oblivious to his flaws. 

“I expected you to be eager to follow Lady Bennet.”

“Quite the opposite, my lady,” he frowned, glancing down at his hands that could not seem to stop trembling. For most of his life, he carefully considered every decision he made to ensure perfection. This was unchartered territory.

Simon half-expected Lady Danbury to laugh, or to smile warmly at him before offering her advice. She had done just that for as long as he knew her. 

However, Lady Danbury did not respond in such a manner. She scoffed loudly before gripping her cane and turning to Simon with a disappointed glare. 

“Well then you are a fool,” she spoke harshly. 

Simon’s eyes widened. If he were not already sitting, he likely would have stumbled back. Despite his apparent shock, Lady Danbury was not fazed. Instead, her glare grew more intense. 

Similar to Philippa, Danbury was subject to Simon’s countless confidences regarding his feelings for Y/n. She was past waiting excitedly in anticipation for the two to finally be united. Now, she was irritated at how long it was taking Simon to act on his affections. Mostly after Y/n had already made clear hers.

“You care for her, do you not?”

“I do,” Simon answered, not a moment after Lady Danbury spoke. 

Silence fell amongst them. Danbury’s eyes narrowed in both confusion and frustration. Was it not clear to Simon what he needed to do? She held her cane with both hands. Simon sighed.

“That is precisely why I cannot go to her,” he explained. Lady Danbury groaned audibly, prompting Simon to further clarify his defence. “After all the pain I have put her through, do I not owe it to her to give her peace?”

“She will not have true peace until she knows.”

Simon averted his head slightly, his posture slumping down significantly. Lady Danbury began to realise that there was more to it than he was admitting to. 

Simon looked out towards the maze’s direction, and all he could think of was her, and the night before. All he could see was her expression when he lied about the nature of his relationship with Daphne. Not to mention how she walked away from him crying, and the way he let her go.

“I... am terrified,” Simon whispered, his voice shaky. Danbury inhaled sharply, before looking at him intently, remaining silent all the while so that he could continue. 

After a moment, Simon turned to face her. His eyes were glassy, and the wrinkle on his temple deepened as he furrowed his brows. He was no longer trying to defend himself. No longer trying to uphold a ruse or a confident demeanour. 

He was exhausted from doing so. All he wanted was to fix what he had broken.

“Every attempt I have made at explaining myself only seems to hurt her more,” he frowned. “She is leaving today because she seeks to be away from me... and I will honour her wishes, so as to not subject her to any more pain than I already have.”

It made sense to him. He had no luck when it came to making amends with Y/n. He felt incapable of fixing anything. It was clear that, as well as happiness, he was also incapable of giving her peace. And she deserved that, at the very least. 

“And then what will you do?” Lady Danbury questioned, curious to know the extent to which he believed what he was doing would fix anything.

“I... will wait,” he replied, confident in his response, leading Danbury to worry. He did not have the luxury of time, and it seemed she was the only one out of the two of them who knew this. “When she is ready to speak to me, I will explain the truth to her... and hopefully by then I will be able to do so in a way that does not hurt her.”

“Simon,” Lady Danbury said gently. She knew she was right to have called him foolish. However, Danbury realised that he was foolish out of his love for Y/n and lack of trust that he could love her. “She is not leaving London because she seeks to be away from you... She is leaving to accept a marriage proposal.”

Simon’s blood ran cold. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Before, he sat content in the comfort of knowing he had time to wait. Now all he could sit with was the terror of uncertainty.

“Your life decisions have been largely based on fear and on vengeance, but you do not have to continue to live this way,” Lady Danbury said, reaching out for his hand and taking hold of it firmly. “However, you cannot do so if you continue to deprive yourself of what brings you joy.”

She had held onto these words for a very long time after Simon announced he would not marry or have children. Danbury had always hoped that Simon would have a heart change eventually, but it was clear that they were running very short on time.

“You deserve an abundance of happiness and of love, just as anyone else in this world does, your grace,” Lady Danbury said with conviction. She was ashamed; it took her so long to realise how badly Simon needed to know this. “But you will only receive as much as you pursue. So allow me to ask again; what will you do?”

Simon lifted Lady Danbury’s hand and kissed it affectionately- his way of thanking her for, yet again, talking sense into him. Without waiting another moment, he raced towards the stables in search of his horse. 

***

Philippa stood sadly as she watched Y/n say goodbye to her cousins. Significant time had passed since she arrived home and Simon still had not arrived. However, despite the dire circumstances, she refused to give up hope.

As Y/n pulled away from her cousin, Elizabeth, she turned to Philippa, who stood between her and the carriage. Her bags had already been taken into the carriage. Everything was in line for her departure. All she had to do was say goodbye to her aunt, yet somehow that seemed to be the most challenging step.

“Aunt Philippa,” Y/n said cautiously, after noticing her sorrowful expression.

“You do not have to go,” Philippa cried, reaching her arms out and placing her hands gently on her niece’s shoulders. She did not care if she sounded like a broken record. “Please, my dear, if you possess even an ounce of doubt, you mustn’t go.”

“I have already made my decision,” Y/n replied, trying to comfort her aunt, who she knew was only concerned for her well-being. She wanted desperately to put Philippa’s mind at ease. “He is a good man... I will have a good future with him.”

“But you do not love him,” Philippa argued. Y/n quickly realised just how much her aunt had rubbed off on her. She could not yet figure out whether that was a good or bad thing.

“I cannot be so naïve as to base my choosing on love,” Y/n criticised.

“Yes you can,” Philippa insisted.

“How can you be so certain?” Y/n inquired, trying her best to refrain from scoffing at the irony in her aunt’s argument. “You are married to a Lord. You will never need to worry about bearing financial burdens, and it is because you accepted the proposal of a man mama matched you with.”

Y/n expected this would end her aunt’s argument against her marrying Mr Graham. 

“Your mama did not match me with Lord Bennet,” Philippa confessed, taking Y/n by great surprise. “Your mother asked me not to tell you at the time, but... Lord Bennet and I met during one of our visits to London. We remained in contact for the better half of my first season, and we eventually married because I fell pregnant... with Elizabeth.”

Y/n’s internal conflict increased significantly in intensity. She always admired the love shared between her aunt and her husband. She always admired the life they had together. However, she also accredited this to her mother’s strong-willed matchmaking and stubbornness.  

Her aunt noticed her reaction and sighed. She reached out and took hold of her niece’s hands, gripping firmly. Philippa had been saving that revelation for when her niece was grown enough. It frightened her how quickly that moment arrived.

“I know that the odds have always been stacked against women like us... but that does not mean we settle for men who do not care for us,” Philippa posited, challenging what Y/n previously believed to be true when it came to love and marriage. “You are allowed to prioritise what you want in a husband as well as what you need.”

Y/n’s heart began to pound. She had craved to hear those exact words ever since she prepared for her first season. If only she had heard them before she found herself in the situation she was in.

“You deserve to be with a man who you love and who makes you happy,” Philippa added, causing Y/n to flinch. She knew where her argument was headed. “A man like-”

“-Like Simon?” Y/n questioned in annoyance.

Philippa sighed, answering her niece’s question. 

“I know that you hoped it would be his proposal I would be accepting... I hoped for the same,” Y/n sighed. Having her aunt as her confidante meant their hopes for her future coincided—all except this time. “But I have waited for too long. I cannot keep putting my life on hold out of hope that he will have a change of heart... and that he will show up at the last minute on a white horse. I cannot do it.”

“Then disregard Simon for a moment,” Philippa said. “- and answer me this, will Mr Graham make you happy?”

Y/n scoffed. She could not keep relaying the same message to her aunt.

“I have told you, marrying him will guarantee me a good life-”

“I have no doubt that he will provide you financial stability,” Philippa interrupted.

Y/n was startled. Until then, all she was focused on was securing a promising future for herself. Until then, all she equated that it was a future free of any financial burden.

“But will he make you happy?” Philippa asked, narrowing her eyes. “When you are forced to endure his arrogance, his ignorance and his temper daily. When you are inevitably made to bear his children, thereafter reduced exclusively to their mother and his wife, and are no longer your own individual person. When it dawns on you that you will be stuck in this position for the rest of your life... Do you truly believe you will be happy?”

Y/n could not answer her aunt. Philippa knew her answer. They stared at one another, each with an expression far different from the other. While Y/n was started and frightened, Philippa remained concerned yet hopeful that her niece would finally change her mind.

Before either of them could speak, a worker approached Philippa and beat them both to it. 

“My lady, the carriage is ready for Miss Y/L/n’s departure.”

Y/n was quick to turn away from her aunt. She glanced at the other worker who stood by the carriage, holding the door open for Y/n to enter. She turned back to her aunt, who visibly feared what she was about to do next.

“Goodbye, aunt Philippa,” 

Y/n pulled Philippa into her arms and hugged her tightly. She knew her aunt was still very much worried and concerned for her. However, she hoped that Philippa would cast them aside for just a moment, and let her see this through.

When Philippa hugged her back and smiled wearily at her as she walked away, Y/n knew she was doing just that. And for that, she was extremely grateful.

As the doors to Y/n’s carriage closed, she closed her eyes and braced herself for the future she was going to commit to the day after. In an attempt to forget what her aunt had said to her, Y/n waved goodbye once before looking away. 

She glued her sight to the road ahead, refusing to look back to the street behind her, or the gates to her aunt’s home.

The very gates Simon would ride through moments after, only to realise that Y/n had already left. That he had spent so much time hesitating and waiting for the right moment, he missed his opportunity to see her before she left.

That he was too late.

NEXT PART

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