#its called a road its called a rainbow road

[riley-hawkins-kitty]

riley’s music recommendation of the day 5:

[ara-queen]

I built a race track in Satisfactory for me and a friend! I adore the little factory carts in this game.

[mariska]

every once in a while this song in its entirety plays on a repeated loop in my head like a jukebox with one single record in it. today is apparently one of those days

[mikiruie]

𓈒⠀⠀⠀⠀︵︵ ⠀◟ † ◞ ⠀︵︵ㅤ⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀

THROUGH THE WIND AND RAIN . . .

── TOBIO KAGEYAMA ﹕ 影山 飛雄 ┊͙ HAIKYUU!! ◝✩

𓋜 hq. masterlist // general masterlist.

premise. even while seperated by thousands of miles of stretching oceans— there is solace in the rain’s shared song.

content. fiancé!kageyama / f!reader. fluff. established relationship (engaged). LDR + ali roma!kageyama (reader lives in japan, ≠ being japanese). lovesick!tobio :3 !!

word count. 7.6k

soundtrack. absence of you : grentperez.

écoute chérie! ᰔ this fic ended up being a lot longer than i intended . . . anyways !! first fic on this bloggie yayy ‹𝟹

22:58

“Is it also raining over there?”

Your head turns away from your open laptop screen and towards the windows of your apartment, watching as the trickling rain pours down outside your house.

With the curtains drawn open, you have a perfect view of the cars that pass by— watching and listening as their tires splash through the puddles of water that have formed on the street’s open roads, hearing light taps against your windows as streams of droplets hit the streaked, rain frosted glass.

You hear the faint tinkling of showering water vaguely in the background of Tobio’s call too, and your head tilts obviously at the sound, something that your fiancé manages to pick up with ease as he looks behind him towards where you’re staring out at his dark balcony’s windows.

“Oh,” he murmurs lightly, turning back around to face you (or more accurately, his phone screen that has you on it). “It’s raining here too— in Italy, I mean.”

Tobio’s shakily-hand held phone camera soon leaves the dining table it was propped up on, the front view getting covered by the palm of his hand as he makes his way across his living room and over to his balcony, the curtains closed and sliding door locked.

“I don’t know if you can see it that well,” he mumbles. The door to the outside deck unlocks with a light click as he steps outside, slippers padding softly against the smooth stone flooring of his apartment once he crosses over the lip of the door’s frame and onto the balcony. “But it’s pretty heavy over here.”

He flips the camera around, holding the phone up and moving the curtains out of view to show you the rain outside his own home, and just like he mentioned it’s much harsher than your rain back in Japan.

Against the reflective light of the moon in Rome’s night sky is a cascade of water that bombards you from all sides, droplets heavier than the rain you have back in Japan, hitting the cobblestone walkways outside of Tobio’s house with a resounding echo.

The rain falls at a much, much faster pace too as it almost seems never ending, the millions of raindrops bouncing off one another nearly blending into the sound of a single mass against the inky backdrop of the night sky— like a wind chime.

It’s a full moon tonight you realize as Tobio slowly maneuvers his phone around for your convenience, showcasing not only the torrent of rain that blinds his frosted windows but also the surrounding cityscape of his apartment.

You’ve only ever seen it in the daytime through brief glimpses during your facetime calls, but now without the sun and brilliant blue skies as its backdrop it looks completely different, dipped and steeped in a vat of red wine with only the moon and the street lamps to light the way.

You find that by craning your head just a bit to the sides that the raindrops have a special sheen to them, almost holographic in their nature. Single masses that have no one colour to them in their true nature, shimmering with a mirage of light in the afterglow of Rome’s street lamps.

Fractals of tiny rainbows burst at the sides of the water’s tension, and each droplet magnifying the light of the moon and lamps tenfold, merging into what seems to become a single stream of glimmering gold.

Perhaps it’s just a trick of the barely visible light light, or maybe something to do with the fact you’re on a crinkly video call— but the shifting perspective of the iridescent water droplets glowing in tune with the speckles of centuries old stars in Rome’s barely lit skyline is incredible to witness up close, and you’re almost jealous that this is the sight that Tobio gets to fall asleep to just outside his window every night.

The rain pour oddly likens to the same scene you’d get if you took a quaint little snow globe and shook it around vigorously in the palm of your hands, watching as the faux snowflakes inside swirl and whoosh around in the glass dome before falling slowly back down to the base of the globe, the flurry of white snow reminding you of the rain drops you’re bewitched by.

You look down at the engagement ring that sits on your finger, given to you by Tobio two years prior. Smoothing your thumb over the ornately cut princess-styled gemstone on the gold band, you realize it also bares a striking resemblance to the tiny raindrops just outside both of your windows.

Like a little piece of the quiet scenery you get to both wear together, even when far apart— and the constant downpour of rain on both ends of the call may be a reminder of that fact.

Tobio eventually shuts the door with a shiver running up his spine, bringing you out of your thoughts as he steps back inside his apartment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, breaking the silence. His eyes flit back to the now closed glass door, gaze lingering as the camera slowly begins to walk away from the view— you wonder if he was also admiring the rain shower along with you.

“It just gets kind of cold having it open when it rains.”

“It’s okay,” you smile, still mindlessly fidgeting with your ring. It fits much better on your finger now than before, courtesy of your fiancé having it re-sized for you when you last visited. It’s no longer constricting to wear, yet still loose enough for you to twirl around for fun.

A part of you thinks that Tobio ensured that for you unknowingly.

“We wouldn’t want you to get sick now during the season, would we?”

With a laugh muffled behind pursed lips he sits back down at his small dining table again, the feet of his chair scratching against the hardwood flooring when he scoots the chair in forward, carefully propping his phone upright against his napkin holder. “Y’know, I wasn’t prepared for Rome’s weather at all when I came here.”

“The weather here is a lot more turbulent than in Japan,” as if to perpetuate his point further, the rain in the background seems to pick up speed, the faint tapping against his window from the droplets now turning into more thunderous thumps.

Amused, you shift up against the pillows of your bed, adjusting your laptop sat atop your blanket. Tobio’s lips unknowingly jutt out into a pout seeing you all warm and cozy in bed without him, though if he were to do the same right now he’d probably pass out in the confines of his sheets while still on call with you.

It’s one of the reasons he’s calling from his dining room table and not situated nicely inside the cocoon of his freshly washed bedsheets.

Although tempting, Tobio wants to make sure he gives you his full attention whenever you both call, considering both of your busy schedules and the time zone differences between the two countries you currently occupy makes it hard to coordinate a set time to call each day, and ultimately your lifestyles can’t afford daily calls much to both of your chargins.

It usually boils down to ‘literally whenever we are both free,’ though he admits it’s not nearly as often as he’d like it to be.

Free can mean many things, and unfortunately for Tobio you refuse to call him while you’re in the shower (he doesn’t understand that one, he’s seen all of you and then some anyway), or while grocery shopping (something about you needing full concentration to select the perfect box of plump, sweet strawberries, whatever that means.

Strawberries are strawberries, no?)

“Well how are you holding up over there?” A playful grin slowly spreads across your face as you mess around with the facetime filters, giving Tobio a few silly cat ears and a tail as you sift through the available options.

Your finger drags along the trackpad of your laptop as you doodle away funny little shapes and swirls beside Tobio, giving him a bright red clown nose and some pink cheeks for funsies while he in your mind remains oblivious to your actions.

You let out a quiet giggle to yourself when his facetime background changes from the interior of his Rome apartment to a poorly edited in beach scene ripped straight from Google images, complete with his own coconut drink and a straw on your end of the call.

Tobio’s lips curl in on themselves, his teeth biting at the lower one as if he’s containing a smile of his own while you hum delightfully in idle tranquility, seemingly unaware of his gaze on you.

You’re acutely conscious of it though from the way his head dips down, using his bangs to mask the barely passable snicker he disguises as a poorly trained cough before regaining his posture, a gesture he inherited from his sister.

“Is it hard living by yourself? Living without me?”

Tobio’s shoulders lift in a mild shrug, and the green screened background near his back and arms glitches whenever he makes even the slightest movement. “I wouldn’t say that,” he jokes, stretching up against the backrest of his chair, muscles still sore from his practice matches earlier in the day.

A whine escapes past your pouted lips at his quip as you jeer back to him. “You’re making me feel sad now! Next time I’m not going to pick up your call no matter how many times you spam text me.”

“Hey, hey hey now . . .” His camera suddenly falters, stumbling in on itself from how hard he jerks his dinner table in shock before falling flat on its face, your inexplicable laughter ringing through loudly from the phone’s speakers and into his ears as Tobio props the device back up, fingers covering the camera momentarily before it eventually stabilizes again.

Now it’s his turn to sulk, the corners of his mouth visibly drooping into a slight frown as you continue to chuckle at his misfortune. If he dipped his head any lower, you’d be able to see his blush along the curve of his neck.

“That wasn’t very nice, love” he grumbles, slumping back down into his chair as you smugly hum in response. “Well you’re not being the sweetest either right now, Tobio.”

“Fine,” he sighs, crossing his arms. The loose home shirt he wears flexes with each movement he makes, “I’m sorry— will you still call me tomorrow?”

“Of course,” relief flashes in his eyes for a split second as his chest rises and falls with each breath, “Did you think I was actually not going to pick up?”

“. . . Only a little.”

“I would never do that to you,” Your tongue blips out to him on camera, all pixelated as a small clump of red dots inside his phone’s screen and Tobio can’t help but hide his bashful smile behind his hands again at your cheekiness. “How could I say no to your face?”

“You just did nearly two minutes ago.”

“Well that was two minutes ago!”

The both of you fall into another cesspool of bubbly giggles as you bicker back and forth with one another, your voices accompanied and carried across the oceans with the help of the rain in the background. The white noise drowns out the rest of the world, allowing the two of you to focus solely on one another’s prescience in the few hours you have together in comfortable solitude.

Tobio tells you everything during his calls— and you really do mean everything. He lets you know of every brand deal he’s received, how he figured out that he was putting weight on the wrong part of his foot whenever he dug a ball and now his receives are getting much better now (you can hardly believe that he thinks there’s still even more to himself that he can find improve upon) and the mundane details of his day to day life in Rome as well too.

He told you a few days ago through text that it’s currently raspberry season in Italy which starts in May, the miscellaneous message soon accompanied by a cute photo of him and his teammates out raspberry picking in a large farmer’s field in the countryside of Rome as a team bonding exercise.

You saved the adorable sight almost immediately into your photo album, sometimes finding yourself opening your phone several times throughout the day just to peek at it again whenever you missed his presence.

Now instead of the baseball cap and wicker basket he carried with him in the photo earlier in the week, he sits in front of your laptop screen, fingers reaching below the camera for a moment before coming back up to pop something into his mouth.

Your head cranes a little to the right instinctually, trying to catch a glimpse at what he’s eating before realizing you can’t actually do that over facetime.

“What’re you eating?”

“Raspberries,” he mumbles through a mouthful of them, taking his phone and showing you the inside of the bowl in his hands, light blue on the outside and white in its interior that’s filled to the brim with the fruits. “Ushijima-san told me they’re high in fiber, vitamin C and K.”

You’re reminded of the photo he sent you a few days prior, giggling to yourself in giddy happiness at the fact that he must be eating the fruits he picked with his teammates. “Y’know you can also eat them just because they’re tasty, right Tobio?”

He pops another one into his mouth, cheeks puffing out on the right side like a chipmunk as he chews. “Well, that too is a plus.”

Tobio’s bowl is nearly filled to the brim of the fruits, a hefty serving you presume for a seemingly late night snack for the star athlete. You question his unusual timing since the Tobio you know is all about order in his regimen when it comes to maintaining his healthy figure for volleyball.

“I wanted to feel like I’m eating with you,” he timidly admits when asked, and you tease his sincerity before an idea comes to mind, your fiancé’s head cocking to the side once he sees you leap out of bed in a hurry.

“Wait a second, stay right there!” You shout to him before your body quickly leaves the frame of your laptop screen, leaving Tobio in a stunned silence as he attempts to call back out to you, the padding of your footsteps against the floorboards of your home soon disappearing along with your figure too.

“I’m not going anywhere, babe—” he mutters to himself, squinting at his phone screen as he tries to figure out where you scurried off to. The door to your room is left slightly ajar, but the darkness of your hallway shrouds the rest of your household in his sights.

His eyes take a preliminary glance around your room to fulfill your absence in stead, his view confined to the singular angle your laptop can show him from on your bed as he attempts to scour the small window space he can, checking and noticing for the subtle changes you’ve made after your recent weekly room clean up.

Tobio finds that you swapped out your old floor length mirror for a new one, since the old one had a crack in it after it unfortunately fell during one of your last facetime calls.

He takes note of the many papers that pile on top of one another on your work desk, and his brows furrow at the sight. He hates to think of how easily it could be for you to slip into accidentally overworking yourself now that he’s not around to reprimand you, though he’s not one to talk about maintaining a healthy work-life balance either with volleyball.

Tobio’s gaze soon drifts away from the seemingly massive mound of manila folders and printer paper before stopping momentarily. His eyes glance downwards, a wicker basket woven flower pot caught in his sights, before crawling back up again.

There, sitting on your desk right beside your printer is a familiar looking potted plant; its white petals shimmer beautifully underneath the glow produced by your room’s ceiling fan’s cheap LED light bulb, the golden spun colour of the flower’s bulbs emerging from inside the core atop their green stems.

Three heads of pretty, flowered plants are neatly laid in the small bed of soil in the pot, the dirt dark in colour as the flower’s roots soak in the hydration-rich nutrients from the loam.

Tobio recognizes the species immediately, drinking in its innocuous appearance in your room— the Madonna Lily. Italy’s national flower.

He coughs up his raspberries in a fit of momentary shock, reveling in the discovery as he shoves his phone closer to his eyes to inspect it further. The plant seems well taken care of, blooming well even in a confined office-bedroom space. A small spritzer bottle filled halfway to the top with water sits just beside the stunning flower, meaning you probably had watered it not long ago before your call with him.

Its leaves are vibrant and healthy, and the blossoms open up to the ceiling, revealing their bright golden bulbs from inside.

Tobio’s seen and been given many a white lily in his time playing for Ali Roma, he can barely keep track of the massive bouquets he receives from sponsors and fans at every game with the gorgeous flower, all beautifully tied together with long satin bows accented in the colours of white, orange and green for his beloved team within the confines of clear, wrinkle-less cellophane.

But the lone pot in your room calls out to him especially, it’s beauty and obvious care and attention gone into helping it flourish outshining even the most spectacular of floral arrangements he’s ever been given.

He’s heard from a few of his native Italian teammates that the white lilies of Italy symbolize rebirth and are frequently associated with the rejuvenation of the soul— but they also resemble both everlasting purity and commitment.

And if Tobio had to describe you in two words of his own, he’d pick those qualities of the stunning lily to do so.

A few beats of silence pass of him admiring the quiet entity of life before he hears your rapidly approaching footsteps again, jerking his head away from his phone screen and sadly having to tear his eyes from the plant as the door to your bedroom swings wide open, revealing your pajama-clad self once more as leap back onto your bed, a big bowl with the same familiar fruit he was just snacking on sat in the lap of your legs, the traces of water on your just-washed hands bringing heat to Tobio’s cheeks.

“What’re you doing?”

You hum mindlessly as you fluff up the pillow behind your back for a moment before turning back to him and beaming.

“I’m going to feed you raspberries through the screen,” You take one of the nice big ones for Tobio out of the bowl and show it to your camera, letting your fiancé see the fruit from all angles. It’s plump and juicy, and the nice red colour to it and size is deserving for Tobio, you bet it’s as sweet as him.

You still feel the leftover water residue on the fruit’s surface from when you washed them underneath the pads of your fingertips as you steady the bowl and lower it down to Tobio’s mouth on your screen.

“Say ahhh!”

Even while within the confines of his own home, a blush spreads across the expanse of Tobio’s neck and the apples of his cheeks at your actions, shyly opening his mouth for the camera, head pivoting around his dining room like he’s worried some paparazzi is going to catch him being all cute and sappy.

He straightens up when your hand suddenly retracts from the camera’s view, taking with it the raspberry as your saddened face takes center stage on his phone screen.

Tobio’s eyebrows cinch together worriedly, confused at the sudden change in demeanour. “Why’d you stop, love?”

You huff, cheeks puffing out in an adorable show of stubbornness. Tobio wishes he was there to pinch them in person, and he refrains from reaching out and doing it himself.

“You’re not saying ahhh!”

He sputters a bit on his end of the call, scarlet blush spreading to the tips of his ears. “Do I have to . . .”

“Yes, it’s part of the experience!” You make a point to pick up another juicy raspberry for yourself from your bowl, saving the one previously meant for Tobio and popping it into your mouth, audibly singing in delightful praise at its taste.

“Now open wide, Tobio! Say ahhh~”

The adam’s apple of Tobio’s throat bobs in your peripheral as you lift the same raspberry from earlier up to your camera again, slowing inching to where Tobio’s mouth is hung open on your laptop screen before he closes around the berry, pretending to chew and savor it’s taste as you gleefully giggle at the sight of the ever blossoming red that crawls down his neck and all across the top half of his chest visible through the cut outs of his home shirt.

“It’s yummy,” you hear him whisper, voice low and intimate in the tranquility that lies between you two, feeling separated only by a flimsy screen and not by several countries.

He can taste the tangy sweetness from his raspberries previously still left on the tip of his tongue, though he likes to imagine that it’s left behind from the digital raspberry you shared with him just now.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips subconsciously, swiping across the bottom lip to capture any lingering flavors of the fruit remaining. “I did tell you awhile ago that the raspberries are in season this time of year, right?”

“Yep!” You pop the ‘p’ in your sentence with a giggle, “Don’t you remember the photo you sent me? Of you and your teammates out raspberry picking!”

His eyes roll to the ceiling of his apartment in thought as he recalls the last few days, thought bubbles metaphorically popping up above his head before he lets out a noise of confirmation. “Oh, yeah I did send you that. I’m surprised you remember.”

“You only sent it like, four days ago Tobio.”

He shrugs it off easily, ignoring the pale blush that dusts his nose and cheek bones that you had recalled that photo he sent you on a whim as an update to his life in Italy, and he takes another raspberry out from his bowl, letting the sourish-with a tinge of sweetness flavour of the fruit pop in his mouth once he bites down on the morsel.

The two of sit in comfortable silence as you pretend-feed each other raspberries, with you “feeding” Tobio most of yours and he reciprocates whenever you give him one.

“It’s so we’re even,” he digresses afterwards, and while you eventually do feast the raspberries you hand to Tobio through the scrithy facetime call screen, Tobio saves the ones he feeds you on his end of the line— placing them back into his bowl after you fake swallow the fruit, letting it fall back into his bowl and choosing a different fruit of his own to bring to his lips.

In his mind those berries are specially reserved for you only, and even if you can’t eat them yourself, Tobio doesn’t feel it right to eat them.

The freshness of the raspberries on your tongue sweetens your video call with Tobio just a little more when it seems as the sounds on both your ends heighten frighteningly, the quality of your screen becoming diluted as time rolls on through the thunderous booms that peer outside your windowsill.

Rain hurls down from the sky, blanketing both your hometown and the capital of Italy in its wake, but it’s Tobio it feels as though you’ve both made a small little space for yourselves to shield each other from the storm.

“I saw you on the news again today,” you hum contently as the two of you snack on your raspberries against the backdrop of rain on both your calls, Tobio’s being obviously louder as the storm outside continues to grow more tumultuous the longer your call stretches on for.

This is probably one of your longest video calls together so far, almost reaching three and a half hours when you check the time at the top of your laptop. It’s a surprise that your dingy cell service has managed to hold on for this long in the weather’s conditions.

“They were talking about how your contract with Ali Roma is ending soon, and speculating when or if you’ll renew it.”

Tobio freezes up when you mention the news broadcast, almost scared of speaking up with his throat feeling tight, mouth running dry as he stiffens up his posture. A distinctive trait of his you notice when he’s nervous. “Yeah . . . yeah I’ve been hearing about that too.”

“I mean, it is about you,” you chuckle to yourself, a bit too causally compared to how Tobio feels inside. “So! Have you decided if you’ll stay there for another term?”

“It depends,” he swallows down his worries, eventually gathering the courage to ask “will you be upset if I do?”, hesitance laced in the throes of his words as he waits for your reply in skittish tensity.

It’s been hard for Tobio to dance around the subject ever since news broke out, and everytime he calls he’s unsure how to bring it up.

Ali Roma has helped in advancing his career tremendously, and he’d love to keep moving up the ranks and continue playing on the world stage alongside his teammates— but then there’s you, across the sea waiting for him at home. Cheering him on from not the stands of an Italian stadium but on the couch in your shared home in another country, rooting and whooping at a TV screen whenever he’s up to serve.

He’s been telling his social media managers to try and quell the spread of rumors before he decided on accepting another contract term, scared of you finding out and expressing your displeasure about the renewal before he had a chance to talk it out with you.

Despite Tobio’s endless passion and drive for volleyball, he knew that his heart belonged with you— and he wanted to ask how you felt about the decision before he had the final say.

It’s been nearly three years since he asked you the fateful question of if you’d take his hand in marriage.

He still remembers the way he almost foolishly dropped the ring when he got down on one knee, clumsily taking the box out of his suit jacket’s pocket and hastily recited the lines he had practiced for over a month about your importance in his life and how grateful he would be to marry you— and the way you graciously accepted him with open arms before he was even done speaking.

He also can recall clearly how you nearly knocked him over onto the ground by the sheer force of your glee alone, too enraptured by the high of the moment to notice you had basically caged him in your arms on the dirt trail of your home town’s park.

And while you’re as sweet, loving and as patient as a person can ever be, what with letting him play overseas and all (you’re a literal angel in Tobio’s eyes), Tobio knows that with time, patience can be worn down like running water in a riverbank, smoothing over the stones and pebbles that have sunk to the bottom.

It erodes away the longer you stretch it thin, and your three year engagement anniversary is coming up soon, and yet he’s not there with you. Instead, he’s in Italy, furthering his goals while you’re home, hard at work on your own he knows but he fears that his constant absence has taken a heavy toll on your heart.

He wonders if you’ve grown restless of waiting for your fiancé to come back to your awaiting arms, and if you’re just too nice to admit your frustrations to him directly whenever you call.

And the thought of that worries him. You’ve always been the one in the relation to anchor Tobio’s incessant and seemingly never ending worrying, being the stability he needs when his insecurities overshadow his rational thinking, and it’s more often than not that you’re practically the one holding him together better than himself whenever he’s overseas.

(it’s embarrassing to admit himself how much of a driving force you are in his life.

The gentle guiding light he needs when he goes tunnel vision and can’t see straight or think clearly).

It was you after all who suggested he take the leap of faith to move to Rome and play for Italy, you who gave him the push of encouragement he needed to further his career even when it seemed to go against your own best interests.

And while you’ve reassured him several times over that the length of his stay in Italy and your prolonged engagement means absolutely nothing to you, Tobio worries that soon, you’ll become tired of waiting for a day that will potentially never come.

His greatest wish is to marry you proudly in front of all your family and friends, to entangle your paths forever with each other while you exchange vows written for one another underneath a pretty white arch— and how is he supposed to do that when he’s thousands of kilometers away from you across the sea?

“Hm? No, of course not,” Your airy voice cuts through the rapidly growing thoughts in his head, head tilting on his phone’s screen. Your brow raises slightly as you question him. “Why do you ask?”

“Did you think I was going to be mad at you?”

Tobio brings a hand up to his neck, brushing at the recently buzzed off sections that are already starting to grow back after his most recent haircut. “Uhm, if I say maybe— or wait, if I say no will you—”

You interrupt his soon to be nervous rambling firmly but gently, shushing him with a soothing series of “Hey, listen to me” coupled with a few chants of his name, as if you were calming down a scared, jittery kitten.

Your lips purse in thought, contemplating your next words carefully. You know how Tobio can get about topics concerning your long distance relationship, eventually being able to settle him down so you can speak.

“Tobio,” you start, and his ears perk up intently at his name. “I knew because I know you like the back of my hand, you’re always so nervous to talk to me about anything relating to your work— I also knew about the renewal for a while now.”

“Really?” His eyes widen in shock, and he grabs his phone instinctively as he shoots up out of his chair, the screech of the legs against his floors echoing in the background. “But I haven’t decided on anything yet because—”

“Because of me, am I right?”

Tobio can’t find any way to argue against you when you smile at him so sincerely, it almost feels unreal for him the way you so comfortably can say what he’s thinking.

You don’t look angry, frustrated or even upset in the slightest even if he was technically hiding the news from you so he could bring it up at the right time.

Just what did he do to deserve you?

Thunder booms outside his Rome apartment, the rain crashing down louder than before. The storm must be picking up in strength, and your call’s audio grows distorted and scratchy on his end of the call— the bars of cell service at the top right of his phone are depleting quickly, the connection crumbling with each second.

After a few pressing minutes of “Hello? Tobio, can you hear me?” and “No, not really— wait now I can” from both of you, you finally manage to get a clear, concise point across to your nervous wreck of a fiancé.

“You don’t have to be so paranoid about what I will think,” you tell him, putting the bowl of raspberries off to the side of your lap now as you scorch closer to your laptop, allowing Tobio to see you more clearly now.

“That’s your decision to make, and I’ll support you no matter what.”

Heat singes across your cheeks dreamily at your next words, and you’re a little embarrassed at how your eyes grow glassy at the recollection. “Though, I do appreciate how you always wait to consult me first.”

Your hand goes to caress the outline of his cheek in your laptop’s screen, as silly as it may be to anybody who would witness it, it’s the closest you can get to the real deal in your current circumstances.

Tobio reacts accordingly as if he can feel it himself, stiffening at the gentle brush of the back of your fingers against his skin, and he wishes so desperately to be able to lean into its touch.

He settles for resting his cheek in the palm of his hand as a substitute.

“You’re so sweet, Tobio.”

The tips of Tobio’s own ears bloom a deep shade of crimson red in response, the few parts of his collarbone that you manage to see underneath his navy t-shirt blushing a slight hue of pink as well against his skin as he shyly murmurs a quiet “I miss you a lot, y’know. . . ” amidst the thunderous applause of the whipping winds and roiling crashes of water that pound outside his windows.

He can hear the trees thrashing around outside, their leaves swaying violently against the brick walls of his apartment.

Tobio reaches over to turn up the volume of his phone more to hear you more clearly, not wanting your voice to become drowned out by the storm raging on outside. When he sits back up in his chair, he has to take a moment to calm his racing heart, the thumping beat loudly booming in the back of his mind.

“It doesn’t feel right without you here with me,” he admits, gaze downcast into his hands, clasped into one another as he stares into the abyss of the empty crevices of his palm’s folds. In his mind he imagines his left hand as yours, intertwining with his own so he could run his thumb over the jewel of your engagement ring.

He misses the cool feel of the gold against your warm skin, hoping to one day be able to feel that with your wedding band instead. “I guess that’s why . . . I always want to ask you for permission before I decide.”

His hands clam up uncharacteristically, sweat pooling at the pads of his fingertips. He wipes them in the fabric of his home sweats to dry them, staining the grey linen.

“You— you’re more important to me than volleyball . . . ”

Your heart skips a beat. Then two more, swelling up tightly at his words.

You’ve always known Tobio to be a bit tentative than others about how he phrases his words, him being self-aware that at times he can come off as a bit too forward or overly aggressive on something if his stances are not structured correctly.

Whenever he speaks to your friends, fans or even in his own interviews with highly esteemed reporters, he always takes a deep pause, letting their own questions ruminate in his mind so he can come up with a cohesive response, one that isn’t too self imposing.

But to hear him say something assuredly, even with the unconscious stutter in his words has your face singeing with heat, and the sight of Tobio’s furious blush makes you incessantly wish that you were right beside him to pull him into a long, heartfelt embrace, arms wrapping around your own forearms to satiate the desire.

Goosebumps litter the surface of your skin, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the patter of rain blares through your eardrums.

Tobio’s eyes peer back up to meet your own, and he sees that through the crunchy quality of your laptop’s monitor, your mouth opens to speak. “Tobio . . . I—”

And in an instant, the heralding tone of the call dropped notification pings through his device’s speakers, and Tobio’s jumping out of his seat in a moment’s notice once your face no longer occupies his phone screen.

He swipes downward from his screen, with a tab saying your call together ended at four hours, twenty-seven minutes and thirty-two seconds.

Muttering out low curses in quick succession, he quickly checks his phone app, seeing that your call was severed. The cell service bars at the top of his screen flicker between two and three, the weak connection only further emulated when a large flash of thunder strikes outside his apartment with the enslaughg of heavy downfalls of rain drops pooling in large puddles outside on the roads and sidewalks.

Three booms of thunder follow suit in the course of the lightning, their resounding echo feeling akin to an earthquake and enveloping his house from all sides.

His apartment feels much smaller now with the sea of sounds that crash around just past his brick walls and glass windows. It’s so loud outside now he realizes, monstrously so now that your calm voice no longer accompanies him, and the resounding silence of his apartment now feels empty without your presence.

The vast distance of ocean that separates you two seems more intrinsically noticeable now to him, and Tobio wonders if you feel the same on your end too back home when the line dropped and you could no longer see his face on your own laptop.

“Fuck,” Tobio’s thumb hovers over the call back button, ready to start up another glitch-filled video call when he’s nearly startled once more when his phone buzzes back to life, with your contact name soon flashing across the top of his screen.

He picks it up almost immediately, clearing his throat before speaking.

“Hello?”

“Tobio!” You chirp from the other end, and even without the video accompanying it he can still see and hear the way your smile reveals your teeth in a happy grin and your eyes crease at the ends from glee.

You sound just as relieved as he does, though a lot more sure of yourself than he does. Tobio wonders how you can still remain so chipper after all that while he feels like he’s been left on a lone lighthouse on a rock in the middle of a sea-born typhoon.

“Sorry, the call must’ve dropped! I couldn’t video call you back with my bad service so this is the best I can do,” your voice trails off towards the end of your sentence, your smile audibly dropping to a half one in its stead. Tobio’s tongue clicks against the porcelain of his teeth, swallowing and clearing his throat once more.

He wants to make you feel better, lift up your spirits the way you do his even when the stormy night sky has plans otherwise for him.

“It— it’s okay,” he recites in his mangled attempts to assure you, “the storm outside for me is pretty bad right now, so I probably wouldn’t be able to video call anymore too . . .”

Your disheartened “Aww” from the other end nearly breaks his heart into two, and he can practically envision the way your lips tug downwards, demeanor visibly deflating when he reaffirms your suspicions.

You bounce back quickly though, with a “don’t worry about it,” soon followed by “we can call back when the storm clears up tomorrow, okay?”

He lets out a low hum of agreement, and silence blankets over your call again as the two of you wait and see who has the gall to hang up first.

Neither of you wish for your time spent together to end so abruptly due to the rain, though it’s not anything that’s in your control either.

Once Tobio moved to Italy, the ball was no longer in your court. And the two of you have to rise early for your respective careers tomorrow (technically, now today) as well, once you take a glance at the wall mounted clock in your room that’s almost struck close to twelve in the morning by now.

“So . . .” you drawl out of awkwardness, and Tobio coughs into his closed fist. “. . . So.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles meekly, “do you know what time you’ll call me?”

“No,” you tell him sadly, “but as soon as I’m off work, I will.”

“You promise?” He knows it’s childish to ask you ‘to promise’ him such a thing (he’s twenty-eight now for god’s sake), but he can’t help it when you let out a little giggle, his ears burning red again at your giddiness. “Yes, Tobio. I promise.”

“Okay,” his lips purse, but before he can speak you cut him off unknowingly with words woven from the sweetest honey imaginable, causing him to suck in a hasty breath of air in an instant.

“I love you, Tobio.” You sigh, twirling the ends of your hair around your finger as your gaze lingers on the lily sitting atop your desk.

It’s not a replacement for your beloved fiancé, but when the odds are stacked against you, anything to keep a piece of him close to home helps.

“And I miss you, so . . . so you better do your best on your new contract renewal! You gotta beat Shoyo-kun during the next volleyball game or else we’re never going to get married at this rate!”

“O— of course I will!” He sputters out nonsensically as you burst into a fit of laughter once more, knowing that all it takes is saying his old high school rival’s name in the same sentence as volleyball for him to get pumped up.

“Like hell I’ll let stupid Hinata beat me at an international level!”

“Yeah!” You cheer for him, smiling through your teeth into your phone screen, “And then you’re going to come home and marry me, you got that!”

He almost doesn’t seem to know what he’s even agreeing to, only giving you a solid “Yeah!” in return. He might not know what it is right now, but you know that his subconscious does, and that’s enough for you to rest easy for tonight.

“Hehe, okay then! Bye Tobio! I gotta sleep now, mwah!”

You blow him a quick kiss through the line before ending the call immediately afterwards, giving him no time to respond other than a sharp “What— huh?!” before you’re throwing your phone across your bed and burying yourself into your pillows and bedsheets, lightheaded as you inhale the scent sticking to their threads.

It only smells of you now.

You miss when the linen of your bed and the seams of your cushions didn’t just carry your scent; when it also included his as well, back when he slept comfortably next to you and was freely able to wrap his arms around your figure as you both drifted off to dreamland in the comfort of each other’s body warmth.

You miss the liveliness that Tobio brought to your shared home. You fondly remember waiting for him to come home from late practice just so you could indulge yourselves in each other’s presence after his shower, and sending him off in the early morning as you too went about on your own commute to work on your own.

Rain drops hammer down harshly outside your window, and while it may have been a nuisance to deal with any other day and was also the main culprit of your early-ending call, it seems oddly calming now— knowing that on the opposite end of the earth, the rain kisses down on Tobio’s roof top too.

A piece of you stretches from one country to another, showering your love for him even when your eyelids are heavy, voice afflicted with a groggy strain as a yawn slips past your lips.

You’re too tired to take off your engagement ring, normally keeping it tucked away in its velvet box for safekeeping in your bedside drawer as you sleep but for tonight, you choose to absentmindedly play with the gem on the golden band whilst taking a look outside the window through your open curtains.

The night is dreary and stormy, skyline painted a vivid ocean of black and dark blue-ish tinted purple. You can’t even see the thunderous cumulonimbus clouds overhead, the only visible sign of the rain above are the droplets that manage to stain your window prettily in their wake.

Your breathing stills as you settle yourself in bed, readying your mind and body for the long day ahead tomorrow, the rain acting as a backdrop of white noise that carries many sounds in its stormy, splendorous path.

And now, it simmers to a blur in your mind as sleep overtakes your body, and you wait patiently for the rain to carry away your goodbye kiss off to Rome thousands of miles away for your sweet, hotheaded and lovestricken fiancé.

The thunderstorms you and Tobio both bare tonight aren’t the same at all, though it wasn’t always this way.

And you hope that soon you won’t have to bare yours alone, no matter how much the rain crashes outside or the whirlwinds whip and threaten to pull down withstanding trees to the ground with their strength.

Under the storm clouds overheard your roof, the rain’s cataclysmic song sings you to sleep in an odd fashion.

Thunderous, constant, breathtaking and everlasting— all the qualities you find in a certain setter currently situated in Central Italy, who waits for the day he’ll be able to fly back home to you, so that you can be underneath the same clouds and domes of rain together once more.

reblogs ++ comments are greatly appreciated !! ꒰ ˆ ᗜ ˆ ˶ ꒱

© property of mikiruie 2024. all rights reserved.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Bowser Castle 2 Debut: Super Mario Kart

Oh no! We didn't have a post ready for today! Well let me improvise one for you really quick. Because I love you. Don't take it too personally, though, we're not here to start parasocial relationships with our followers! Sorry. I hope you understand.

This is Bowser Castle 2, from Super Mario Kart, but if I named it I'd call it Bowser Castle POO! Because it isn't very good.

Many people consider this one of the worst courses in Mario Kart history, and many people would be right! You see, iconic Bad Guy King Morton "Bowser" Koopa Sr. wanted to prove his Bad Guy status by creating a Bad Course, and boy howdy did he! He probably feels so smug about it. Jerk.

Look at that map. This course has a dead end on it. This might be the only course in Mario Kart history to do such a thing! It's possible you can use a Feather to turn that into a shortcut, but I've never pulled it off. But also I'm not very good at this game, nor am I interested in becoming good at this game, so it might just be a skill issue on my part.

But getting past the dead end offers you no reprieve, as afterwards you have to deal with this mess! It feels like they're trying to make some sort of double-loop formation, but all the 90 degree turns combined with the bridge connecting the loops being at the top ends up making it play very awkwardly. Or something like that. Listen I'm just writing this post in a stream of conscience, I dunno how to describe what's so bad about this beyond "it's bad."

luigi enters the torment labyrinth

As you can probably expect, having "being the worst Mario Kart course ever made" on its resume hasn't done good things for SNES Bowser Castle 2. The only game it's returned in is Super Circuit, which included literally every SNES course, which is to say it was not getting any sort of special treatment. Even Mario Kart Tour, a game which literally invented new SNES courses for the sake of getting more content out of existing assets, refused to bring Bowser Castle 2 into its arms.

Is there any hope in this world for an absolute dogwater course like this one? I dunno but that's not gonna stop me from coming up with hypothetical solutions. Yes this is the kind of thing I think about in my spare time! Don't judge me!

Really, for all I've been dunking on this course in this post, I don't think it'd actually take all that much to get this into a playable state. As you can see, I've re-envisioned the dead end as a shortcut (likely blocked off with a wooden cutout so you need to use a mushroom), and I've reimagined the Torment Labyrinth as a double roundabout configuration à la Wii Rainbow Road. After that I just smoothed out some turns, added a glider ramp at the end so you have something to do during the last straightaway, and envisioned some totally awesome elevation changes that can not be displayed from a bird's-eye view like this, and bam! I created a version of this course that could potentially maybe be enjoyable.

I mean I dunno. I don't have the means to play it.

I drew this earlier this morning and it's the entire reason I've decided to make this our spur-of-the-moment post. I hope you're proud of me. For what it's worth, at least SNES Bowser Castle 2 can theoretically be made into a somewhat enjoyable course. It's not like it's stuck with a name like "Figure-8 Circuit" or something.

[the-record]

SKINNY DIPPING

SUMMARY: ellie, your perfect high school girlfriend, is back in town after college. what’s one date?

PAIRING: modern!ellie williams x reader

WARNINGS: n/a

A/N: i had an idea!!! pls enjoy while i finish the other 3 ellie fics lol

‘ WE’VE BEEN SWIMMIN’ ON THE EDGE OF A CLIFF ’

“oat milk latte for ellie.” your head shoots up hearing the order called off. it couldn’t possibly be her.

your staring at her when she turns around and makes eye contact. a smile forms on her face and she makes her way over to the table you’re at. “hey.”

“hi.” she points at the seat, you nod and she sits down. her eyes flicker away to not fall, but she brings them back to yours instantly. “how are you?”

“good.” she clears her throat, a comfortable smile on her face. “how are you? how’s your family?”

you roll your eyes and let yourself get comfortable. “theyre fine. my mom asked about you the other day.”

she leans back into her chair, one hand on her cup and the other on her thigh. “she did always love me more.” ellie teases. you kick her shin lightly and she hisses in pain.

your jaw drops. “oh stop, that did not hurt!” you watch the pout form on her face and kick her again, a little harder. you hear her whisper something as she grabs her leg. “that, maybe.” she gently kicks you back in retaliation. “so, what are you doing back here?”

she sips her latte before answering. “well i finished school, figured id see who wanted to hire me here before i went looking elsewhere.” you nod as she talks, taking all of her in. your ellie. “what about you? what’s like been like without me?” you know shes teasing but something inside you missed her.

“sunshine, smiles, and rainbows!” you close your laptop and give her your whole attention. “it’s been okay here, weird not seeing you and dina everyday.” she nods in agreement. “i’ve got an internship now, and a job, but not a career yet.”

talking with ellie is easy, it always has been. if she hadn’t gone away for college you might still be together. you take the time to learn everything new. you study the new freckles and a scar on her cheek. her voice is something you could listen to for years and never bore of.

“this was really nice.” ellie says as you pack your bag and she finishes her drink. “is there a chance we could do it again? maybe over dinner?” she leans forward on the table as she asks. “at miller’s?” the name of the restaurant makes you sigh.

you shake your head with a smile. “i dont know, sounds a bit… nostalgic, doesn’t it?” she shrugs and plays with the fingers on one of your hands.

“maybe. but lets do it anyways. it’ll be fun.” those green eyes would be the death of you.

the conversation at dinner came easy, ellie guiding you. it was nice to be back with her, in your own world in the quiet restaurant.

“have you dated anyone?” ellie asks, not exactly wanting to know.

you scoff as you take a sip from your glass. “not really. a couple flings but, nothing serious.” you say as you set down the glass. “you? im sure there were plenty of girls for you in santa barbara.”

“i dated a girl for awhile.” she smiles as you tense up and avoid her face. “broke up with her though.”

you hum. “and why’s that.”

“because she wasn’t you.”

you let out a breath you didnt know you were holding as a smile fights its way on your face. “ellie…” she takes your hand.

“let’s get out of here.” her eyes stare into your soul, convincing you silently.

the smile breaks free and you nod. “okay.”

you pay more attention to ellie than the roads as she drives. studying her profile, the lips you’d missed these past for years.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer.” your cheeks burn as ellie glances at you but you dont dare look away. its a few more moments before she slows and parks.

you glance around as you unbuckle and notice a familiar house. “dina’s place? weird place for a date.” she rolls her eyes and jumps out, running to get your door. “still quite a gentleman i see.”

“only for you babe.” she takes for you and leads you towards the house, but turns to the backyard rather than the door. you go to protest but she beats you to it. “don’t. just trust me.” she pulls you through the tall gate and into the backyard.

“i was gonna propose the beach, but then i remembered we are in jackson.” she smiled and pulled her top off.

you laugh. “ellie, what the hell are we doing here?”

ellie looks at you like it’s obvious. “we’re here to swim babe, duh?” shes stripping out of her pants now and you grab her arms to stop her.

“you have to be joking!” but she just shakes her head and jumps in, only her bra and underwear on. “i’m not getting in.”

she swims to the edge and reaches for your hands, which you mistakenly give her. “guess i’ll have to pull you in.”

you yell for her to wait but she’s already going, pushing back from the wall and pulling you with her. you pull her close as you come up to the surface.

“ellie!” she laughs and holds you in her arms. “i hate you.”

she shakes her head. “no you don’t.”

“no, i don’t.” its quiet, only the sounds of the water as you stand with her. “kiss me.”

who’s she to say no to that?

“ellie? is that you? angel? what the fuck!”

‘ I’M RESISTANT BUT GOING DOWN WITH THE SHIP ’

[buckera]

Inspiration Saturday 📸

This wip is loosely based on this post of mine and based on the initial outline I expect it to total out around 20k, but I have like 3 much longer fics on my list before this, so it probably won't be written any time soon, but it wouldn't leave my mind today, so!

After a serious injury on the job, Eddie takes up light duty as the temporary Instagram Manager of the LAFD and even though he's now physically healed, he's still not ready to return to active duty. The job has its perks though; namely the new guy who joined the 118 shortly after Eddie left.

Tags and a longish snippet under the cut 💛

“Hey Diaz, sure you don’t want in on the action instead of playing around with your camera?” Buck asked, lifting his helmet a little, probably to see Eddie better in the harsh sunlight.

He had ash smudged all over his face, giving him a ragged edge that Eddie thought fit him just a little too well. His turnout coat was open, revealing just how tight his shirt hugged his body underneath.

“And what if I prefer the camera?” Eddie asked playfully. “And I told you to call me Eddie.”

“Not until you tell me what it’s short for.” Buck grinned at him teasingly and Eddie clicked the button on his camera again, to capture the way the sun hit his laugh lines; sue him, the man was gorgeous.

Buck had this weird thing for nicknames and though Eddie found it kind of endearing, he didn’t really understand why Buck didn’t just ask the team what his name was if he wanted to know so badly — maybe it was part of some kind of game that Eddie never learned the rules for.

“You know this year’s calendar is coming up.” Eddie said, lowering his camera back down to his chest.

“Yeah? Are you the one shooting it?” Buck stepped in closer, still holding the jaws of life in his hands while everyone continued packing up behind him.

“Why? Would that make you wanna do it more or less?”

Buck chuckled lightly, before swiping a gloved finger across the tip of his nose, leaving yet another black mark there.

“I don’t know. Am I gonna be the only one taking my clothes off?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and Eddie only had time to roll his eyes jovially before he was cut off by Hen.

“Stop riling up the poor guy and help us put these away, I’m starving!”

“I’m n-not rili—” Buck stammered, all his earlier bravado suddenly gone.

“Come on Buckaroo, it’s lunch time.” Chimney chimed in as well, walking past them and dropping his medkit into the back of the ambulance.

Buck looked back at Eddie and shrugged sheepishly. “Duty calls.”

“Yeah... I gotta upload these too.” He lifted his camera with a sigh, indicating the pictures he just took.

“Well, I hope you got my good side.” Buck smiled at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes and Eddie just grinned back at him.

As if you have a bad side, he thought to himself.

“Buck, come on!” This time it was Bobby who yelled over, so they both knew that they ran out of time.

“Coming!” Buck called back, still not taking his eyes off of Eddie. “Take care, Diaz.” He added gently before he finally turned around and jogged away, leaving Eddie standing in the middle of the road, watching as the engine and the ambulance pulled away.

“Yeah, you too, Buckley.” He mumbled to no one in particular.

I was tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz and @watchyourbuck thank you mwuah 💛

✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @daffi-990 @jeeyuns @ladydorian05 @steadfastsaturnsrings @eowon @heartshapedvows @nmcggg @rainbow-nerdss @jamespearce9-1-1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998 @fortheloveofbuddie @evanbegins

[sageandravens]

Patience - Something

Summary: Bucky and Sunshine’s first meeting

Featuring: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Tony Stark

Word count: 1997

Warnings: Bucky being self deprecating. Tony being smug ass.

This was it. This is where all the hard work you’ve completed led you. All the sacrifices you’ve made to reach your goal has finally brought you to were you wanted to be in your career. Your background in Special Forces Night Stalkers Unit and your time in the CIA had caught the eye of Nick Fury, after all the constant training and tests and interviews, you found yourself staring at the grand building that was the Avengers compound. Pride swelling within your chest, this one achievement outshining all the others you have accomplished in the past.

To say that you were eager was an understatement. Your body vibrated with unrestrained excitement about meeting the people responsible for saving the world. People you had admired for their accomplishments. People you get to call your coworkers and maybe one day, your friends.

You carried on, practically skipping your way to the entrance of the building. Reaching the entrance, you smoothed your hands down the yellow knee length pencil skirt and adjusted your white blouse of the imaginary wrinkles that the nerves in your mind believed were there. With one last tug of your skirt, you plastered on a smile and walked to reception.

The receptionist had you sit on a nearby bench as she called to inform of your arrival. You smiled and greeted at whoever glanced your way and chatted with the receptionist in between her calls, your politeness helping you to pass the time.

“So, you’re the new recruit?” An amused voice snapped you out of your conversation with the receptionist. Looking to your left your eyes widened as they landed on Tony Stark himself.

“Mr. Stark! You’re leading my orientation?” You mentally slapped yourself as you straightened your posture. “I mean, yes, yes I’m the new recruit.” You offered your hand to the billionaire, internally holding back your excitement.

Ironman! Oh my god, oh my GOD.

“When I went over your file, I didn’t expect someone who was the personification of puppies and rainbows.” Stark stated. You quirked a brow at him.

“I was observing you from our security system on my way here.” He shrugged like it was no big deal for him.

“Ok, Bubbles. Let’s get this show on the road.” You grinned back at him, following his lead as he explained the workings of the compound and the work you will be doing within its walls. The whole time absorbing all the information that he spewed, asking questions, and matching him snark for snark.

Tony gave you a very grandiose tour of the facility, which you didn’t expect anything less considering his reputation. He showed you the gym, the dining facilities, the offices and the briefing rooms in the compound. Along the way, he had introduced you to some of the Avengers that you will be working closely with.

You hit it off immediately with Steve, who had congratulated you on joining the team and looked forward to working on missions with you in the future. You beamed at his praise and thanked him for being so welcoming.

Natasha took a little longer to warm up to you. Upon introductions she had stared you down while giving you a once over, making you feel as if she was trying to seek out anything that made you suspicious. She stepped back giving a nod to Tony.

“She’s good, welcome to the team.” You blinked at the abruptness of her departure, watching her as she walked down the hallway.

“You’ll get used to that, Bubbles.”

You and Tony continued on your tour, listening as Tony explained your moving in process. He lead you down another hallway with less foot traffic, you looked around at the various decorative art pieces along the walls, glittering light caught your eye, focusing on its source you saw it reflecting off a tall, muscular man ahead of you.

Reflecting off his metal arm. His very recognizable metal arm.

“Is that who I think it is?” You ask, catching Tony’s attention. He looked in your line sight and raised a brow.

“The arm doesn’t give it away?” You rolled your eyes at Stark. “I’ll introduce you, just don’t expect a warm welcome. He’s still a little frosty.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The metallic clang of the weights echoed throughout the gym. Sounds of grunts and bodies hitting the floor mats as agents trained and worked out all around the gym. It was almost mid morning by the time Bucky finally decided to put the weights down, having been in the compounds gym since five in the morning. Another night where a nightmare has plagued his already battered mind, usually, a couple of hours in the gym calmed him down but this particular nightmare he couldn’t seem to shake off.

The screams of the victims. His victims, still echoed in his mind, their horrified faces and their blood that he spilled was a slide show on repeat. The frown on his face deepened, matching the aggravated look on his face.

Frustated, he placed the weights back on the rack with a grunt. Pushing back the lose strands of his hair that escaped from his low bun away from his face he looked around, taking in all the agents around him. It was getting too crowded for his liking, and his anxiety wasn’t letting up, he gathered his items and trudged back to his room within the compound. Hoping a hot shower would ease his frazzled mind.

Bucky stomped through the halls, ignoring the way the agents and other employees quickly moved out of his way with worried looks. He knew they feared him, fearing that he would snap back into his Winter Soldier persona. Worried that whatever deprogramming they did in Wakanda didn’t actually work.

They should fear me. They’d be dumb if they didn’t. His face turned darker at the thought. He continued down the hall towards the elevator reserved for the Avengers that lead to the residential floor. The promise of a long, hot shower to process his racing thoughts and wash away the sweat from his extended workout this morning within a short distance. The hope of finally being away from lingering fearful stares and hushed whispers only an elevator ride away. He placed his hand upon the scanner built into the wall, waiting patiently for elevator to make its descent.

“Hey, Manchurian Canidate!” Bucky groaned at the sound of the irksome nickname. He silently prayed that the elevator doors would open at that second to make his escape. The frown on his face getting even deeper as he realized that his need to be alone was disappearing the closer as they footsteps approached him. Turning around, Bucky accepted his fate, hoping that his post workout odor makes this impending conversation short. Bucky was not in a mood for Starks antics today, or any day at all, really.

“Whoa, you are ripe! You know there are showers in the gym right?” Bucky rolled his eyes and grunted a response. The ding of the elevator announced the arrival of his belated escape plan, turning back around when Bucky entered the elevator and much to his annoyance Tony followed. The movement of someone clad in bright yellow caught his attention, tilting his head up, his eyes focused on the young woman standing next to Stark.

“Oh, by the way.” Tony passively gestures towards you. “This is Y/N. Our new recruit, former sergeant first class. She outranks you.” He added smugly.

Bucky refused to take the bait, giving Tony another short grunt, not even bothering to look at him. You looked at Bucky, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the sweat clinging to his brow, evidence of his strenuous workout. But, you noticed something behind his blue eyes that spoke of something darker, an emotion that seems to plague him.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you!” Your peppy voice rang in his ears. The joyfulness of your tone making him wince. He glanced back at you, your (y/e/c) eyes bright matching the smile that graced your lips, your hand reaching past Stark waiting for him to grasp it. Bucky just stared at it.

“Oh, well, I look forward to working with you and the others.” You say, the pep in your voice never faltered. You brought your hand back to your side, you had hoped that being your usually bright self, you would come off as a potential friend to Bucky and break the grumpy exterior Tony warned you about. No luck, not letting Bucky’s rebuff of your greeting bother you. Bucky’s eyes landed on your face once more giving you a confused look.

“I’m excited to learn how you and the rest of the team work together quickly. I know my skills will be of great use to you all. Maybe we’ll be paired up for a mission some time?” His lack of words made you want to fill the silence between you. You were alright with that, you understood that some people weren’t the talking type. Bucky’s stare made you continue on with your rambling.

“Since you know, we both have military experience. I think we would pair well with each other.” You smiled brightly once again.

Bucky continued to stare at you. Completely, blindsided that you continued to look him in the eye and talk to him without fear and worry. Did you not know who he was? Are you confusing him with someone else? Bucky shifted his gym bag on his shoulder, his grip on the strap making the mechanics of his metal arm begin to whir.

Well, if she doesn’t know who I am, she does now. Bucky frowned again.

Stark looked on between you and the living statue that was Bucky, getting some amusement from the completely polar opposite personalities in front of him. He watched on as you continued on with the one sided conversation. Smirking to himself as he watched Bucky become increasingly uncomfortable.

Ding!

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as the elevator doors opened. He readjusted his bag, and quickly left, leaving you and Tony in the dust without so much as a goodbye. You watched as he walked away, the tension still present in his shoulders making you frown. He walked with a heaviness, a weight of bottled up emotions and dark thoughts. You recognized that stance, you’ve seen it with some of the soldiers that were under your command after grueling missions.

“Told ya he was still frosty.” Tony placed his hand upon your back guiding you out of the elevator to finish the tour of the compound.

“He’ll warm up to me, I’m sure.” You smiled at Tony with confidence.

“Hope you’re up for a challenge,”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that day Bucky exited his room. Refreshed and gym odor free from his long hot shower. It eased his mind somewhat, pushing back his memories enough to not be distracting. He walked to the communal kitchen of the residential floor, his stomach begging for some leftovers from the night before. Popping in a plate of some leftover fettuccine into the microwave, he leaned against the counter waiting for the time to go off.

Steve sat at the kitchen island across from him, with a cup of coffee in his hand looking at the file in front of him. He glanced over at the file that had his best friend so intrigued. He noticed that it was your file.

“Have you met the new recruit yet?” Steve asked him.

“Yup.” Bucky replied, popping the P. Steve continued to flip through your file, feeling impressed more and more with all of your achievements.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Steve started with with awe.

Bucky thought of your bright smile, your relaxed and bright presence. He thought of you carrying on introducing yourself, never stopping even if he was not responding. But what he thought of the most was how you didn’t have fear in your eyes.

“Yeah, she’s something.”

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 17: Hell

Contents | Part 16 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) The world seems to be getting brighter for Ellis, until a sudden, unexpected turn of events threatens to plunge her back into darkness.

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes, angst, hurt, scenes & descriptions of panic/panic attack, derealisation, food avoidance & weight loss, menstruation and low mood. I'm sorry in advance, please don't hate me lol. Readers must be 18+

You hadn't believed Nicola when she said you had a glow. But the warmth in your cheeks was undeniable now, the sparkle in your eyes and weightlessness of your footsteps. You felt pretty, radiant, the corners of your mouth resting in a natural smile.

A day had passed since your night with Father Benedict, and you still hadn't floated all the way back down to earth. Even as you walked home from work, the moody September sky threatening a downpour, you seemed to glide along the pavement. 

You walked into the Boots across the street from your flat, perusing the aisles for a new shampoo when a bath bomb caught your eye. It was shaped like a cartoon frog, bright green with cute pink cheeks, sitting on a lily pad made of sponge, packaged inside its own little box. It made you think of your downstairs neighbours, Lorna and Blossom, how they'd knocked on your door a few days after you moved in to introduce themselves with a plate of homemade fairy cakes, complete with runny, translucent icing and silver sugar pearls. Since then, you'd said hello whenever you passed in the hall. 

Lorna was like a walking rainbow, dressing in cardigans and long skirts, dungarees and shirts buttoned up to the collar; always bright and bold, mismatched prints and primary colours. Her long blonde hair flowed all the way down to her backside; she would sometimes plait it, other times it would be wrapped in a huge knot on top of her head. She reminded you of a 90's preschool cartoon, vivid and exaggerated, even down to her large, clear-framed glasses that were too big for her face. 

Her daughter Blossom was six. With long hair to rival her mother's, pixie-like features and a freckled nose. She was obsessed with frogs; frog hats, frog earrings, frog t-shirts, frog backpack and a plush frog teddy that she carried everywhere with her. She didn't speak much, turning shy and bashful whenever she was in your presence.

You picked up the bath bomb along with a new shampoo, paying for them and carrying them across the road towards your flat. When you got inside, you knocked on their front door, stepping back to avoid dirtying the doormat with your shoes. Lorna opened it soon after, a pencil tucked behind her ear and smudges of oil paint on her hands. 

"Sorry to bother you," you said, holding up the bath bomb. "I got this for Blossom. Hope you don't mind." 

Her eyes widened in gleeful surprise. "Oh, that's so sweet! You really didn't have to."

"I couldn't resist," you said with a shrug. 

She ushered you into her flat, wiping her hands on her trousers. "Blossom!" she called out, her voice like a tinkling bell. 

The little girl came running in from her room, dressed in a fluffy green frog onesie. 

"Ellis got you a little present," said Lorna. 

You held out the bath bomb, smiling when you saw her face brighten with joy. She ran up to you, taking the box and bringing it up to her face to look at it closely.

Lorna giggled, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her trousers. "What do you say?"

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're welcome," you replied.

She hurried away excitedly, disappearing back into her room.

"That was really nice of you, thank you," said Lorna. "Can I get you a cup of tea?" 

You didn't drink tea, but you accepted anyway, following her into the kitchen and sitting at the small, round dining table. 

She placed a mug in front of you. It was wonky and misshapen, hand-painted with bright, cartoonish flowers. You guessed she'd made it herself, holding it up and admiring the quirkiness of it, how there were grooves in the handle that fit your fingers perfectly. 

"So," she said, sitting down with you. "How are you settling in?" 

"Fine," you replied as you took a sip of tea. "Still lots to do but I'm not in any rush." 

"Oh I'm so glad to have someone living up there again. The last owners were lovely but they just outgrew the place."

"Kids?" 

"Mm. A little boy and twin baby girls."

"Well that explains the crayon scribbles on my bedroom skirting board." 

She laughed. "Blossom drew on the walls in her room last year. I call them her cave paintings."  

You smiled, blowing away the steam rising from your mug before taking another sip.

"It's just you up there, isn't it?" she asked. 

"Mhm." 

"First place?" 

"Yes and no. First place I've owned myself. But I rented before with some... friends."  

"Ah."

"How long have you lived here?" 

She blew out a puff of air, thinking for a moment. "About five and a bit years. I don't own it though, just rent." 

"What about Rav?" You pointed to the ceiling. "Does he own or rent?" 

"Oh he owns it. Bought it with his girlfriend a few years ago, only to have her run off with someone else about six months later." 

"Bloody hell." 

"I know." She flicked her incredibly long hair off her shoulder, letting it cascade over the back of the chair. "What about you, are you seeing anyone?" 

"Oh, no, well- not really. I don't-"

"It's complicated?" 

"Yeah." You breathed out a laugh. 

She gave an understanding smile, wrapping her hands around her mug. You glanced down at the paint settled in her knuckles, the smudges and stains on her nail polish. 

"Are you a painter?" you asked. 

"Hm? Oh, yeah." She pointed behind you. "I'm in the middle of a commission and I hate it. Tempted to paint over it and start again."

You twisted your body, looking over at a large canvas leaning against the back wall. It was as colourful as she was, abstract shapes bleeding into one another, creating veins and swirls like a piece of marble. 

"I like it," you said. "Reminds me of Gerhard Richter." 

"Oh wow, thank you," she said, surprise in her tone. "Are you an artist as well?" 

"No, god no. But I have a degree in graphic design so I know a little bit about art."

"Is that what you do for work?"

You grimaced. "Unfortunately not. I do editing for a photography studio."

"Why the sour face? Do you not like it?"

"Not particularly."

"Well what do you want to do?"

You paused, taking another sip of tea. "Dream job? I'd love to design book covers."

"Well why don't you pursue it?"

"I don't know." You shrugged. "I suppose I just got complacent, stuck in a rut. I needed a steady income, never felt like I could take the risk."

"But that's the kind of job you do freelance, right? Like... build your own business, find clients yourself?"

You nodded. "Mostly, yeah."

"So do it!" she said enthusiastically, gently nudging you with her elbow. "Rav's got a printer, he could make you some business cards."

You laughed, finding it charming how facile her view of the world seemed to be.

"Promise you'll think about it," she said.

"Yes," you chuckled. "I'll think about it."

You stayed a little longer, taking comfort in the lighthearted chitchat, the familiar smell of incense coming from somewhere in the flat. You found yourself opening up, telling her about Gina, about Alfie and the 'friend' who punched him in the face for you. When you mentioned you had a niece named Soleil, she clasped her hands together and gasped, falling in love with the name, unsurprisingly, and asking to see pictures.

You rarely came away from conversations without regret; playing them back in your head and wishing you'd said things differently, smiled more, not made the awkward joke. But as you went upstairs and stepped into your flat, your mind was calm, quiet, and it made you breathe easier, somehow. Like everything was finally coming together; your light expanding, getting brighter. 

You dumped your bag at the door and kicked off your shoes, pulling out your phone and sending a text to Father Benedict. 

I think I made a friend today. 

You put the phone on the arm of the couch and made your way into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting it steam up the room as you stripped away your clothes. You'd been making an effort to look at your naked body more often, to view yourself through the lens of the man who'd made you feel so beautiful. You weren't sure it was working; your eyes still zoning in on the most minor imperfections. 

You got into the shower and washed with your favourite soap, groaning when you realised you'd left your new shampoo on Lorna's kitchen table downstairs. Instead you battled with the old bottle, squeezing out the remnants and lathering it into your hair. You rinsed it away, slathering on conditioner and running a razor over your legs as you waited to wash it out. 

When you were done, you stepped out, shivering as your warm, wet skin met the cool air. You wrapped a towel around your body and another around your head, padding leisurely back into the living room to check your phone. 

He hadn't replied. 

You pushed out your lip like a disappointed child, throwing the phone back down and wandering into your bedroom to get dressed. 

You cherished a day off work, especially during the week. You'd woken up to heavy rain and a dark grey sky, making coffee and sitting at the window as you watched a sea of hoods and umbrellas meandering along the street below. 

You tipped the last dregs of coffee into your mouth and carried the mug into the kitchen, placing it in the sink before making your way to the bedroom. You straightened out the duvet and lay the pillows neatly at the top of the mattress, before rooting through a box of clothes and choosing the first things you found. 

You took the clothes into the bathroom, placing them on the counter next to the sink as you brushed your teeth and combed your fingers through your hair. You took off the t-shirt you'd slept in, throwing it in the washing basket near the door and turning to look at yourself in the mirror again.

It had been two days now since Father Benedict spent the night; the passage of time evident in your fading love bites and lightening bruises. You wished you never had to go without him, longing for the marks to remain fresh and new, for his lips to restore them before they ever had a chance to disappear. 

You changed your underwear and pulled on the clothes; a pair of leggings you were constantly having to steal back from Gina, and a big sweatshirt that completely swallowed your frame. It wasn't the most exciting outfit you'd ever worn, but the sound of rain battering against the windows made it hard to care.

You took out your phone, writing another message to Father Benedict.

Hey, I have a day off today. Do you need help with your book club?

You put the phone on the edge of the sink and continued to get ready, putting on makeup, perfume, tying your hair up and taking it down again several times before finally leaving it loose.   

 You walked into the living room and sat down on the couch to put on your socks and shoes, when the faint buzz of your phone against the sink echoed through the flat. You hurried back into the bathroom, sighing in disappointment when Mara's name appeared on the screen.

Got Soleil's new pictures back. They're so much better. Thank you!

You typed back a quick reply and locked your phone, catching a glimpse of yourself in the glossy black screen. Your brow was furrowed, lips pouted slightly. Why hadn't he replied? 

The bus made a harsh stop, sending you stumbling down the narrow aisle, gripping the bars to stop yourself from falling. You stepped down onto the pavement, pulling up the hood of your coat and holding onto it to keep it up. The rain was unrelenting, soaking into your leggings and seeping into your trainers as you walked the short distance to the parish pub. The uneven path was flooded with deep puddles, patches of moss turning slick and slippery. 

You pushed through the doors and took down your hood, the hair around your face still wet despite your attempts to shield it. The pub was quiet, a handful of regulars sitting on the other end of the bar chatting to the landlord. You made your way towards the room at the back, the door closed, signs and notices still plastered across it. 

You tried the handle, but it was locked. You curled your hands around your eyes and peered in through the small window, finding nothing inside besides the stack of metal chairs in the corner, an empty table pushed up against the far wall.

"What the fuck," you whispered to yourself, turning around and heading back into the main part of the pub. 

You didn't stick around, the landlord too enthralled in conversation for you to interrupt. Instead you walked back outside, making your way to the church, almost slipping as you jogged up the steps. 

The doors were open. You stepped inside, rainwater dripping from the hem of your coat and leaving dark speckles in the dusty pink carpet. You walked slowly towards the chapel, a shuffling sound echoing inside, the sound of a hymn being hummed between tired, breathless sighs. You went in, passing the votive stand where a single orange flame flickered amongst rows of unlit candles. It was dull, the moody sky letting in little sunlight through the windows, the pews empty, the chancel tidy and undisturbed. 

You looked down to see June crouched at a cabinet near the entrance, polishing trinkets with a rag - chalices, statues and a golden holy water pot - placing each one carefully back inside the cabinet when she was done. 

"Hi," you said quietly, trying not to frighten her. 

She glanced up at you. "Oh, hello dear." 

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, averting your gaze as she struggled to get up. You took a step forward and reached out your hand to help her, but she didn't see it, grabbing the top of the cabinet instead and hoisting herself up with a grumble. 

"I was er, I was just over at the pub for the book club," you said. "But nobody's there. Has the meeting place changed? Or the time, or...?" 

"Oh, all meetings have been cancelled until further notice." 

"They have? How come?" 

"Well, no one's here to run them," she said with a shrug, as though it was obvious. 

"Oh..." You furrowed your brow in confusion, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat and clearing your throat. "Right, okay. Well never mind, is er, is Father Benedict in his office? I just wanted to speak to him about something." 

She paused, twisting the rag in her fingers. Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips parting in hesitation. "Dear, did you not hear?" she shook her head, an uncharacteristic gentleness in her tone. "He left."

"Left?" you repeated, so quietly it was almost inaudible. 

"Yes, left. A notice was sent out, did you not get it?" 

"N-no, no I don't receive newsletters or... anything like... What do you mean he left? Left where?" You gave an awkward, breathy laugh. 

"This parish." She gestured to the chapel around you. "He gave his service as usual Monday morning then afterwards he was just... Gone. Apparently he asked the bishop to relocate him."

You took in a sharp, silent breath, eyes darting around as your mind began to race. 

She seemed to notice your shock, cocking her head and looking at you with concern. "Are you okay?" 

"I... I don't..." 

"I know. It was all very sudden, took everyone by surprise-"

You interrupted her with a stutter, the words struggling to form on your tongue. "Wh... I- H- Wh- When...?" 

"Yesterday. I truly thought he would have told you. You've gotten so close-"

"Why?" you whispered, voice shaking. 

She pressed her lips together solemnly. "No one knows." 

Your heart was thumping, wide eyes welling with tears. You blinked them away quickly, drawing in a deep, quivering breath in an attempt to calm yourself down. 

"Okay," you said. "Okay, erm... Th- thanks, June. I'll erm... Thanks." 

You pivoted on your heels and rushed to the exit, not bothering to pull up your hood as you emerged back out into the rain. Your limbs felt like liquid, your chest hollow as your heart pounded against your ribcage. When you walked, it was as if your legs were moving independently, ignoring the path and trudging you right through the grass and beneath the trees towards the rectory. 

He wouldn't have just left. He couldn't. There had to be a mistake, a miscommunication or some sort of stupid joke. It was all a joke, a cruel, unfunny, pointless joke. 

You hammered your fist against the rectory door, standing in the rain, waiting for it to open. But when no one came, you took out your phone, trying to dry it with your wet sleeve as you found his name with shaking fingers. You pressed the phone to your ear, waiting as it rang out, refusing to hang up until the automated voice began to speak. You knocked on the door again, stumbling through the flower bed beneath the living room window and rising on your tiptoes to look inside. 

There was no blanket on the couch, no games console beside the TV or books on the coffee table. There were no coats on the hook or shoes near the door, no framed pictures of his parents and brother on the shelves or box of clutter he'd never found a place for. All the little things that made it feel like home were gone. 

Your breath turned shallow, ears whooshing with every throb of your pulse as you stumbled backwards, accidentally crushing the hydrangeas and marigolds beneath your feet. You redialled his number, calling him again when a figure suddenly appeared from the corner of your eye. You turned quickly, letting out a forlorn sigh when you saw the groundskeeper pushing a wheelbarrow across the grass, approaching you tentatively. 

"Y'alright?" he called out, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously from beneath the hood of his anorak. 

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes watering in despondency as you hung up the phone and slipped it back into your pocket.

"Miss...? Do you need some help?" he asked.  

"I was... I was looking for the priest." You kept breaking eye contact, struggling to keep your voice steady. "She said he left." 

He was concerned now, lowering his wheelbarrow and walking towards you, wellies squelching in the soggy grass. 

You stared down at your feet, the purples and oranges ground into the mud beneath your shoes. "I squashed your flowers..." 

"Hey, that's alright," he said softly, extending a hand to you, helping you step over the rest. "And we'll be getting a new priest soon. Or you can talk to the deacon if you want? I can take you to see him?" 

"No. No, that's okay." You backed away. "I'm sorry about the flowers." 

You felt his eyes on you as you walked away, certain he thought you were insane. You felt insane, unable to slow your breathing or think clearly. You screwed your eyes shut as you walked out of the church grounds, playing back your last moments with Father Benedict, searching for a sign, a moment you could pluck out and cast blame upon. 

The world around you seemed to skew as you walked down the street; the pavement slanting, rain hitting the ground in an iridescent blur. Your stomach hurt, throat aching as you tried to swallow past a lump lodged in your oesophagus. You took out your phone again but you couldn't get your thumbs to work, like a chill had settled into your bones, freezing your knuckles and rendering them useless. 

When you arrived at Mara's house, you had no memory of how you got there. You walked up to the front door and pressed the bell, your hair drenched, rain dripping off the tip of your nose and soaking into your clothes, making them stick to you like a second layer of skin. She opened the door soon after, her expression immediately turning from surprise to worry as she took in the sight of you. 

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked. "You look like you're about to throw up." 

Something inside you suddenly broke, like an overflowing dam that could no longer withstand the weight of the deluge. Your lip quivered, eyes filling with tears, and you finally began to cry.

"That fucker," you heard Mara hiss from the hallway. 

You'd told her everything, unable to stop once the words started coming. She'd sat with you on her couch, staring at you in awe as you spoke through sobs; describing every lustful glance and intimate conversation, the undeniable attraction and how hard he'd tried to resist his desires. You told her about the confessional and the kiss on the credence table, you told her where you'd really been the night you walked out on Alfie and Gina, and how he'd given you his number the next morning. 

It spilled out of you like a flood; all the time you'd spent at the church, the rectory, his office. The places you'd slept together and the things he said when no one else could hear. You asked her what you did wrong, why he would leave without any warning or explanation. But she had no answers, resolving to awkwardly patting your leg, whispering how sorry she was as you cried into your hands. 

You must have fallen asleep at some point, stirring to the sound of Mara and Nathan whispering beyond the living room door.

"She never cries, Nathan. You should have seen her." 

"I'm still getting my head around the fact that she was doing it with a priest," he whispered. 

"Ugh. I swear to God I'm going to find out where he's gone, I'm going to go there and smack the shit out of him."

"No you're not." 

"Yes I fucking am." 

You sat up slightly, rolling your shoulders and pressing your fingers into your eyes, trying to soothe a headache that was beginning to form. 

"She was just starting to sort her life out," Mara whispered. "Now this. He has broken her, Nathan. How could he do that?"

Soleil let out a cry through the baby monitor. You listened as Nathan ran up the stairs, his footsteps thumping on the ceiling above you. Mara pushed open the living room door and peered her head around it, her brow raising when she saw you were awake.

"Oh, hey," she said. 

"Hi," you replied quietly.

Her eyes flitted from your hair to your clothes, your trainers caked in mud on her pristine, cream carpet. 

"Why don't you go up and get a shower," she said. "You can borrow some dry clothes."

You shook your head. 

"A bath?" 

"I'm fine, really."

"You're soaking wet." 

You shrugged. "I'll just get wet going home anyway."

She inhaled a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. "Y'know, you could stay here. Even for a couple of days, if you wanted to." 

"Thanks, but I think I just need to be on my own."

Her brows curved upwards in concern. 

"I'm not going to off myself over a man," you said dryly. "Don't worry." 

She rolled her eyes. "Just... You know you'll be fine, right? Like in the long run." 

You gave a weak, unconvincing nod. 

It was dark by the time Mara drove you home. You said goodbye and let yourself into the building, traipsing up the stairs like your body weighed a ton. You were tired, confused, your head pounding, eyelids swollen from crying. 

You stepped into your living room, the stained glass window you'd once adored less beautiful to you now; an allegory of pain, loss, heartbreak. You walked over, dragging the large curtains shut to cover it up, before turning around, your eyes immediately drawn to the sacred heart on the table. You couldn't even bring yourself to go near it, averting your gaze as you flopped down onto the couch. 

And that was where you stayed. For two days you barely moved, telling work you were sick and ignoring everything from texts to your own growling stomach. You would drift in and out of sleep, spending your waking hours sitting in silence, darkness, only moving when you couldn't hold in your pee any longer. Then you would return to your pit on the couch, staying there until your bladder filled again. 

By the second day, your hair itched, and your clothes felt uncomfortable against your skin. It was as if nothing else was real beyond the space in front of you, like the rest of the world no longer existed because you couldn't see it. You felt dizzy and weak, finally relenting and forcing yourself to move when you could have sworn you saw a cushion get up and walk across the floor like a dog. You drew the line at hallucinating.

You made your way into the kitchen, your stomach aching with hunger, throat burning with thirst. The two glasses still sat on the draining board, side-by-side, like a cruel reminder of him. Your body shivered with the memory of his hands on you, fingers digging into your hips as he bent you over the sink. He'd kissed you so softly that night, touched you like you were made of porcelain, filled your ear with the most tender words. Had it all been a lie? 

You drank water straight from the spout of the filter, grabbed a box of crackers from the cupboard before putting them back, the mere sight of them making you feel nauseous. Your phone was on the arm of the couch, you picked it up when you returned to the living room, scrolling through the wall of texts you'd sent him over the past two days. 

Not delivered.

Not delivered. 

Not delivered.

Not delivered.

Not delivered. 

He wasn't coming back. 

There was a part of you that tried to cling to the idea that he might. But as each day passed, another finger lost its grip, until eventually you'd let go completely.  

It had been a week since you closed the curtains, and you hadn't opened them since. The sacred heart picture still stood on the table, your bookcase still half-filled, exactly how he'd left it. You'd imagined dancing with him in this living room, the colourful glass glittering across your swaying bodies. But there'd been no dancing. You couldn't even bring yourself to let light in. 

Your period was late again. But this time, when it finally came, you didn't feel relief. It was strange, sitting on the bathroom floor with your knees to your chest to ease the cramps, and almost feeling sad. You didn't want to be pregnant. In fact, you hadn't decided if you ever wanted to be a mother at all. But seeing the blood, feeling the ache, it was like your body was cleansing itself of him. The bruises were gone, love bites faded, and now your insides were shedding. Starting a new cycle and leaving him behind in the last one. 

There was a knock at your front door. You got up to answer it, trying to hide your disappointment when you saw Rav from downstairs on the other side.

"Hi," he said with a pleasant smile.

"Hi," you replied unenthusiastically.

"Sorry for bothering you. Lorna asked me to come and check on you. Not seen you in a while, wondered if you were okay." 

"Oh. Yeah I'm- I'm fine. I've just been ill, that's all." 

He nodded, eyes lingering on your face for a moment. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

"Yeah. Really." 

It was clear he'd noticed the weight you'd lost, and the bags under your eyes were undeniable. He hovered at the front door, as though he didn't feel comfortable leaving you alone. 

You sighed and took a step back, gesturing for him to come inside. 

"Wow, it's er... It's dark in here," he said, breathing out a laugh as he looked around your living room. 

"I've got a period headache," you said bluntly. "The light hurts my eyes." 

"Ah, fair enough." He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Y'know, I've not been up here before. It's nice. I think it's bigger than my place as well." 

You pressed your lips into a forced smile. 

He eyed you up and down briefly. "Ellis... When was the last time you ate?" 

You gave an exasperated sigh. "Rav, I appreciate you checking on me, but I'm fine. You can go and tell Lorna I'm alive." 

"Alive, maybe. But thriving...?" 

"You have a 'Live Laugh Love' decal on your wall, don't you." 

He laughed. "Your wit's still intact, I see. That's a good sign." 

You sat down on the couch. He stood there, looking at you for a moment before taking a seat on the other side. 

"Look," he began. "I know we're still practically strangers. But... maybe that's better, y'know, I'm impartial. But whatever you're going through, you can't just hide yourself away." 

You didn't answer, letting your head fall back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling. 

"Or..." he continued. "We can just sit here. That works too." 

The silence was thick. Rav was fidgety; crossing and uncrossing his legs, looking around the room and whistling absentmindedly to himself. Eventually you turned your head to face him, speaking quietly. 

"Have you ever had someone just... disappear?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Like, have you ever felt like something was going really well, to the point where it seemed like it could turn into something... special? Permanent, even? But then... All of a sudden, they just vanish. They stop answering your calls, your texts. You don't know where they are, no idea why they walked away." 

"Are you asking if I've ever been ghosted ?"

Ghosted. You hated the term. There was something so juvenile about it, so minimising. He hadn't turned into a ghost, hadn't mysteriously disappeared in a puff of smoke. He'd left; ripped out your insides and took them with him. 

"Yeah," you said. "I suppose so."

"Yeah I've been ghosted. It fucking sucks," he said. "But what you have to understand is that it says more about them than it does you." 

"That's such a cliché things to say." You fell quiet again, moving your gaze back to the ceiling and blinking to stop tears forming. When you opened your mouth to speak again, your voice was quiet, wavering. "I just wish I knew what I did to make him leave."

He sighed, his dark, doe-like eyes rounded sympathetically. "Nothing. Nothing, Ellis, you-" He sat up properly, turning his body towards you. "If you'd done something wrong, really wrong, then he'd have wanted you to know about it. He'd have made sure you knew, because he'd be justified. But leaving without a word? That's what cowards do when they don't have a good reason for it." 

"I just... I don't know how I'm ever going to let him go." 

"It hurts to be left. Trust me, I know." He stood up. "But think of it as a gift, a blessing. Take all the love and care and attention you were reserving for him, and pour it into yourself instead." 

You didn't answer as he walked past you towards the kitchen. 

"You're going to start by eating something," he said. "Then we're going to sit down and you're going to tell me how you plan to start this book cover design business of yours."

You lifted your head and looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion.  

"Lorna tells me everything," he said. 

You couldn't help but let out a slight, halfhearted laugh. "She said you're the resident printer guy."

He smiled. "Here for all your printer needs." 

You stayed on the couch as he disappeared into the kitchen, looking at the black screen of the TV, a sickly, bony version of yourself staring back. You listened as he fished out some pots and pans, opening and closing your cupboards in search of something to make for you. 

You wanted to take his words to heart. You had to.

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen @battledress @chaosdorito @vlqueen @erratica47 @happybunnyclumsyduck @bloggerbatch @bimrwolf @chaand-sitara

*If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here

[ramons-elevator]

Thinking about qFit

Thinking about how Fit came from a place of hatred and survival. Where he would kill children just to survive. Where nothing was safe and death was guaranteed.

Thinking about Fit calling Ramon “it” when he first got him. How he detached himself from this child he was supposed to have. How he kept Ramon alive purely to win a competition at first.

Thinking about Fit treasuring everything Ramon gives him and making a garden of flowers his son gave him on his house

Thinking about Fit yelling in excitement when he spots Ramon and plays their lil game of hide and seek whenever they see each other.

Thinking about Fit saying “Thats my fucking boy” and “Im so proud of you” when Ramon saved everyone at Wilburs return party

Thinking about Fit building a yoga studio for sunny when she asked and letting her cling to his leg when Tubbo got frustrated with his machines

Thinking about Fit apologizing over and over when him and Tallulah fell off rainbow road because there was a possibility that she got hurt.

Thinking about Fit always making sure he says hello to the eggs and asks how they are doing and never leaving an egg alone if the parent isnt there.

Thinking about Fit coming from a place where love wasn’t present and if anything was a weakness to then being in an island where all there is is love and how openly he loves and cares for the kids and islanders, even if its subtle

[gogandmagog]

Thinking of the repeating themes in Walter Blythe’s life, as I sit here skimming the beginning of Anne of Ingleside, and pretty much how Walter’s long walk from the Parkers to Ingleside rather effectively discloses his entire arc, fully until his WWI journey end.

When Walter is at Lowbridge, staying with the Parkers, he is quite harrowingly teased by all the other kids (save Alice), and despite obviously not liking it, flatly fails to stick up for himself. However, when a little tussle breaks out between Billy and Andy, and Alice is crying, he throws himself in between the two fighting boys, and demands that they stop. For Alice. Billy and Andy are both surprised by this, and admit to Walter’s “spunk”. This is super reminiscent to Walter’s later actual fight with Dan Reese (and all it implies) in Rainbow Valley. He’s bullied still, and doesn’t stick up for himself at school… not until Dan says something about his mother and Faith.

As the next chapter of Ingleside progresses, Walter, thinking Anne (his mother, where then contemporary Canadians would call England their ‘mother’) dire and really, also thinking of the threat of a changed home and home life with such a loss, faces his fears and decides to walk the six miles home, alone and in the dark. Walter tells himself he’ll simply manipulate his own mind, and just pretend he isn’t scared, which greatly suggests Jem’s later saying, “Do you know, Walter was never frightened after he got to the front. Realities never scared him—only his imagination could do that.”

Then, when little Walter is on the Glen road, deep in the small hours of morning, and is finally nearing Ingleside, the text tells us, “A star fell in the sky before him, scattering sparks of flame. Walter remembered hearing old Aunt Kitty say that when a star fell someone died.” Later, when Walter does die, the text gives us another earthly omen in, “[Rilla] remembered that Miss Oliver said once, when they were coming home in the darkness and heard a dog howl, ‘When a dog cries like that the Angel of Death is passing’…” But his last letter to Rilla also implies its own near homecoming, when he confesses to her that he felt ‘strangely near to Ingleside’ that night.

[millportdingo]

TSC Motifs/Themes/Whatever

Dogs

Starved dog, leash metaphors, cardboard dog, obedience. I think Jean represented as an obedient, loyal dog is pretty straight-forward. I think it's interesting that in the extra content, Nora described him as an angry cat when he came to Evermore. He left as a starved and beaten dog. I wonder where this arc goes, though. Like, he takes a chain around his neck from Renee -per Neil's philosophy, is this "collar" his first reason not to slip the [Moriyama investment] leash? Also Jeremy has always wanted a dog. I guess this piece is a little harder for me to wrap my head around, maybe I'm overthinking it, but maybe he's the right kind of [s]Dom[/s] [s]owner[/s] person for Jean. He has the authority "I'm your captain," but he pairs it with an equalizer "I'm your partner". He pushes Jean, but he holds the hard boundaries. He's intrigued by Jean's scoop neck deep blue shirt - I think partly for the personal growth to wear color and partly because it allows him to see Jean's collarbone. He shivers with the sound of "Yes, Jeremy." I wonder if "my mom is allergic to dogs" is foreshadowing his family's reaction to Jean.

2. Safety

Neil's arc was about hope, finding a future in a futureless situation. Jeremy's had an idea of the future, the perfect court, but his big thing is safety. "Safe" and its variations appear in TSC 48 times. This boy is really not asking for much, but Jeremy makes him feel safer which is just too sweet. Also, tighten those screws for safety..

3. Childhood

At the beginning of the book, Jean knows immediately that he is not in the Nest, because he knows every inch of it. He feels like he knows everything about the world and he often insults people by calling them children. His childhood innocence was stolen from him at the Nest, and outside of it, he regains pieces of it. He wonders at the vastness of the world, he learns skills he never had before (shopping, cooking). I had a hard time when I found out he was 19 (ie 14 and 16 at the time of some really unpleasant things). I didn't understand why he had to be two years younger. But the protection and corruption of innocence is a big part of his story. We see that acutely with his sister's story and it allows him to turn on his parents without guilt. The duck/duckling motif is cute too. When he first comes to Evermore, Thea describes him as a little duckling. He associates little yellow ducks with his childhood and baby sister.

4. Air?

Being able to breathe is core to the safety thing. When Jean feels least safe, he can't breathe. One of his earliest revelations about being Riko's pet was the buried alive punishment, and pressing his face against the sparse airholes. Then there's the waterboarding thing. You'll see Jean mentions being unable to breathe when he feels threatened and grabs at his throat. Conversely his happy things include breeze and open sky (rainbow and the open road). When Grayson appears, Jean says he can no longer feel the breeze, and he is particularly disturbed by the neck biting. There are lots of throat and neck things going on in the book too and maybe it's a stretch but burning (ie eating away at oxygen) comes up several times too.

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Should You Do for Spring Break?

For my college babes who need ideas on what to do for the next couple of days or next month, I got you with this one! This marks one of two posts being made today! Yayyy! Without further ado, please pick your pile.

Left-to-Right: (1-3)

Pile 1: Pile One, you need to play it cool for your spring break. I feel like you really just need to let loose. Flirt a little. I see the wing of an airplane in my third eye, which lets me know that you should book a last minute flight. Try to go to a place that’s not a hot spot. Where do you feel called to? I also think you do some exploring within your city. Take a mini road trip! I specifically see a bar at night but with dancing, square dancing. Do any of you live in Texas? If not, you should take a road trip down to Texas! This is for a very select group of you, but you should elope with your significant other. It sounds crazy but your ancestral team supports it. If you’re single and ready to mingle, then you should go on a date. Perhaps a sip and paint? Maybe go to a lounge? I see a stable relationship forming from this date. You should go to a sporting event, if you can score some tickets! I saw a bowling ball, so you should definitely go bowling as well.  And lastly, you should do something that helps you recalibrate like go to a spa! You deserve it girl! 

Cards Used: Queen of Cups, Page of Wands, 2 of Discs, Temperance, King of Discs, Ace of Cups, The Hierophant, Queen of Wands. 

Signs: Pisces, Aries, Virgo, Sagittarius, Taurus. 

extras: “youngin.” bounce back. rainbows. nickleback. forty ounces. legs. promenade. bad memory. punta canta. tallahassee. white chicks. grimace. kissy face.

Pile 2: Pile Two, you need to retreat. I feel like you’ve been separating yourself from the crowd for a reason. You definitely need to be by yourself at this time. Take some time out for yourself and just relax. I don’t think this pile does this often, so you should take a smoke break. I saw the meme of that girl talking about conspiracy theories while smoking a blunt lmao. I also heard the word “cleansing”, so you should definitely take the time to release any past energies. Let it all go. Honestly, if you’re in a relationship, it’s time to leave it in the past. I do see that it’ll be a mutual decision so no one will really be broken hearted. Some things simply just run its course. Refrain from doing anything impulsive, it will backfire. I think that you should also spend more time with your family (chosen or biological). You tend to take them for granted & you need those moments to bond with them. Focus on setting goals for the springtime. You have a lot that you want to accomplish and it won’t get done if you don’t take action. 

Cards Used: Queen of Cups, 7 of Discs, 10 of Cups, The Moon (RX), Eight of Cups, The Fool (RX), The Lovers (RX), Ace of Discs, 7 of Cups. 

Signs: Leo, Gemini, Aries, Capricorn, Virgo. 

extras: normani. LAX. number 7. walking on water. valerie. virus. calling an 800 number. rotating dial. pleasure seeker. 

Pile 3: Pile Three, this is the perfect time to get situated. Start spring cleaning so that you can get rid of those loose ends. Do any tedious chores that you've been procrastinating on. Cut your grass. Wipe/dust your walls. Clean out your refrigerator. Another thing that you can do is write letters to your future self and hide them. I feel like this pile is wondrous and always like to plan ahead. So why not put your hopes of the future all on one page? Pile Three, you need to be comfortable with just doing nothing at times as well. I think that after all of this cleaning, you owe it to yourself to be a couch potato. You aren’t a slacker if you just sit down and crack open a bag of potato chips to watch Orange is the New Black. It just makes you human. But after all of this, you could also make an appointment with a spiritual advisor to get a spiritual cleansing or get a tarot reading from them, specifically someone who is new to you. If you do not have access to a spiritual advisor, give yourself a spiritual bath or an egg cleanse. It is best to make new connections at this time, specifically with those who have friends in higher places if you know what I mean. I channeled Dr. Facilier from The Princess and the Frog. And lastly, what you could do during spring break is implement new workout habits. This could be going to the gym, taking daily walks, finding a yoga routine, going to a pilates class, hiking or even taking a kickboxing class. Spirit wants you to not be super inactive during this break. It’s called balance. You need to learn how to not be so extreme, Pile Three. You can walk and chew bubble gum at the same time, you know? 

Cards Used: The Emperor, The Fool, The High Priestess, 10 of Discs, 4 of Cups, The Hermit (RX), 7 of Wands, The Sun. 

Signs: Aries, Capricorn, Libra, Gemini, Sagittarius. 

extras: lovely day. “pardon me.” obsession with teyana taylor. abs. long natural nails. fiber intake. dog fur. headband wig. “shawty.” spooky. virginia. love letters. less fortunate. excess. lonely spell. castaways. 

[iolaussharpe-24]

Barbie in the Mojave - Chapter One

I promised. It's time to deliver. Chapter one of the Barbie/Mojave fic.

This is just chapter one, so Jack isn't quite here yet, but I hope that it will set the tone I want the story to have.

Special thank you once again to @waywardrose for helping me finally watch Mojave! If it were possible to wear out a digital file the way you could wear out a VHS tape, it would be by now. There was a day I legit watched it three times in a row. I'm not even kidding. This story would not be possible without you.

I also want to tag @my-secret-shame and @lunar-ghoulie for showing this crazy idea interest, as well as @ominoose, @reallyrallyauthor, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, and @have-you-seen-my-sanity because you guys were on the "tag regardless" list I made for people I love and thought might enjoy this.

Strangers in a Strange Land

Somewhere along the way, she wasn’t sure where, a wrong turn had been made. Barbie and Ken, for whatever reason, were still in the car. Still in the seemingly endless stretch of desert. Where was the speedboat? The rocket ship? Tandem bike, camper van, snowmobile? She wasn’t supposed to overthink it but, this was ridiculous! The only difference between now and two hours ago were minor things. The sun was hotter. The breeze was warmer and picked up sand that seemed to go straight for the dolls’ eyes. The radio only played static. Even the landscape had changed around them. Fewer sand dunes. More rocky mountains and plateaus. No one around except for the two of them in her pink corvette. There was growth around them, rather than the empty sea of sand. Plants in the ground. Birds in the sky.

They’d somehow lost the road. It had gotten covered up by the sand. She’d thought they were still on it, but this excuse for a dirt road she was driving on didn’t seem to be taking her where she needed to go.

It was maddening. Especially for Barbie. Ken was too busy looking at cloud shapes, cacti, and wiry bushes to really notice that anything was severely wrong. Granted, Ken was the only one to not notice her flat feet when literally everyone else on the beach was freaking out and screaming because of them. Even Weird Barbie thought it was strange. She said she’d never seen anything like it before. And then the way she’d reacted when Barbie had told her the rest….

Going to see her felt like a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare. Life was perfect. Everything was perfect. Her home, her friends, her body, her entire universe! Everything was just the way it was supposed to be. It always was. In all the years she’d existed, Barbie had never had so much as a knot in her hair, let alone a malfunction so bad that it warranted a visit to-

Ugh! She was starting to spiral. Her world had gotten so chaotic so fast that she was starting to go crazy, and that was only accelerating the problem. It was getting harder to keep her smile on her face. She could feel it trying to fall every time she stopped thinking about it. Smiling was always easier than breathing to her. To all the Barbies! …. And now her body doesn’t want to breathe either because she thought about it!

“Look Barbie! A rabbit!” Ken called excitedly, pointing out from the backseat of the car to a brown hare hopping a few yards away.

Wanting to distract herself from the chaos slowly overtaking her existence and threatening to completely envelope her body as well, Barbie looked out at the animal. She watched it move. It was… odd. To say the least. Alien, to be completely honest. In Barbieland, animals didn’t really move much. They counted as accessories. Not dolls. They didn’t have the joints to move the way that Barbies and Kens and Skippers and everyone else did.

But this hare was moving.

Its legs were pumping, carrying it along the sand at a fast pace. Barbie slowed down the car, her eyes glued to it. It was strangely majestic. And she came from a world where rainbows were more common than sunlight, mermaids appeared out of the water to say hi wherever they wanted, and glittery dresses could transform into brilliant fairy wings with a twirl. Her basis of comparison was odd, but that little creature was so-

Before Barbie could even work out her own thoughts, she hit a bump in the road. A very big bump. The kind that didn’t just cause the two passengers to jump out of their seats. The kind that made Ken fly out of the vehicle because he didn’t have his seatbelt on, and flipped the pink corvette onto its side, taking it’s still strapped in pink clad plastic passenger for a ride that she hadn’t been expecting when she asked to be sent to the real world. It wasn’t like when Ken startled her earlier in the day. The car had flipped yes, but it went through the air and landed back on its tires, no harm done. This wasn’t that. This was something else. Something that she’d never felt before.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the world turned sideways around her. Her blonde braid lifted off her shoulder and the seatbelt across her lap seemed to tighten, digging into her thighs. She screamed in a way she never had before. She’d felt fear, yes, but not like this. She didn’t think that any of the Barbies or the Kens had ever felt fear like this. It was like her entire body screaming right alongside her. Every inch, every joint, and sculpted line in her body tensed up and clenched tighter than Boxer Barbie’s fists.

The car landed on its side and skidded across the sand, Barbie’s head snapped back from the force of it, the seat digging into her back and pressing into something that wasn’t supposed to bend the way it was being forced to. It didn’t feel good. At all. This was the furthest thing from good she’d ever felt. Saying that it felt bad didn’t even do the feeling justice. It was worse than when she fell off her roof. And that had been the worst until this.

Distantly, she could hear Ken’s voice. He sounded like he was in pain too. Like he was just as scared as she was. He was calling out her name.

For a moment, things went black. Completely black. It lasted less than a second. One singular insignificant second in which absolutely nothing existed. No thoughts. No feelings. No sight or sound. Just darkness and perfect silence. It was so peaceful. Like everything was finally right in the world and she didn’t have to worry about flat feet or cellulite or a rip in the fabric of reality. It felt like that last blissful moment of sleep before getting up in the morning. Like she’d open her eyes and stare through the open roof of her dreamhouse at the beautiful blue sky above. She’d hear the voice singing her through her newest best day ever. And everything that happened since the dance party would only be as real as a bad dream, and forgotten just as quickly.

But that’s not what greeted her when she finally did.

She opened her eyes to an endless desert landscape. The pink corvette was overturned, crumpled on one side, and partially buried a few feet away. At some point, the seat belt must have snapped, because she wasn’t in the car anymore. She was laying on her stomach, her hair a mess around her face, cheek in the dirt.

She tried to sit up, but her body didn’t want to do anything. Her limbs throbbed and she felt her joints pop in an unnatural way as she lifted herself onto her knees. …. She was in pain. The most pain she’d ever felt in all of her years. It was awful.

She’d never feel something like this in Barbieland. Never.

Does that mean I made it to the Real World?

“Barbie! Are you okay?” Ken called as he rushed to her side. Looking up, she saw him limping towards her, a worried expression on his face. She wasn’t really sure how she was, but she didn’t want to scare him. She didn’t want to scare herself either. Looking at the positives, she could move. Nothing felt broken or bent out of shape. She wasn’t dead and/or thinking about being… well, she kind of was, but only as ‘Thank goodness I’m not dead!’ kind of thing. Not an ‘Oh no, I just died!’ kind of thing.

She smiled her perfect smile, though it didn’t feel right in the moment, and slowly rose to her feet. “I’m okay, Ken. Really. I’m fine.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

She looked down at them and saw that he was right. Her hands were shaking. Badly. She’d never seen anything like that before. Anywhere. On anyone. She’d read one of Dr. Barbie’s books once… but there was nothing about this kind of thing in there either. The book was mostly pictures of x-rays and instructions on how to mold a cast out of Barbie Dough.

“I’m fine,” she lied again, feeling it stick in her throat this time. “I’m perfectly fine. Everything is fine.”

Ken nodded and looked around. “That was… wow. I’ve never seen a car do that before. Where are we? Where’s the speedboat?”

“Uh… I think we’re almost there. We have to be, right? Weird Barbie didn’t give me any kind of timeframe for anything. Or specific instructions. She just said that we’d go from a sports car to a speedboat, to a rocket ship, to a tandem bike, to a camper van, to a snowmobile, to roller blades and go to the state of Los Angeles in the country of California. She said not to think about it too much.”

“I thought there was supposed to be some kind of portal at some point?”

“Apparently not.”

“…. Oh.”

Barbie looked at the wrecked car and then out into the desert again. She was starting to feel really hot. And something told her that she wasn’t the only one. Ken had already opened his shirt like he would on the beach. “I know you brought your roller blades, but I need to ask, did you bring any changes of clothes? Something that maybe won’t be so… inappropriate?” she asked, picking at the sleeve of her own pink top.

Ken nodded. “I might have brought a thing or too.”

“Good. We should change and then get going. Can’t be that much farther to the speedboat, right?”

Ken nodded excitedly then ran over to the car where it laid on its side. He popped open the trunk and all their things spilled onto the ground. The shoes, clothes, skates, hair ties, jewelry, and sunglasses.

Barbie put her hands on her hips, but didn’t say anything. Now wasn’t the time to complain. They were stuck with each other for the foreseeable future, lost and alone, with absolutely no idea what they were going to do or how. Weird Barbie just said that she would ‘know’ when she found the little girl playing with her. But she didn’t know how to get to the point that would allow her to know! She wasn’t Explorer Barbie or Rock Climber Barbie, or Girl Scouts of America Barbie. She was just Barbie. Stereotypical Barbie. She didn’t have anything special about her other than the name ‘Barbie’.

Why was her breath coming in so fast? Why was there pressure building in her chest and head?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. And another. And another. It was working. The pressure was going away. Slowly, but surely. She smiled again and opened her eyes. She looked through the clothes and found a resort outfit she had packed just in case she had to stay somewhere before going home. Specifically, the BarbieStyle Resort-Wear outfit. Tan high waisted wide leg pants, a salmon pink and white crop top with a v neck and puffy half sleeves, cat eye sunglasses, dangly gold earrings, black heels, and a tan clutch purse. She laid everything out in front of her and waited….

And waited….

And waited….

Weird. In the Dreamhouse, she just had to stand in front of her closet and her clothes would change. Actually, it was the same throughout Barbieland; in the boutiques and any general area with a mirror or a door. She just needed a place to stop and choose an outfit to wear and then she’d be wearing it. With all the places a Barbie could go and all the things she could do, quick changes were a necessity.

And yet… her clothes weren’t doing anything now.

Confused, she started to unbutton her top to put the clothes on manually. Then she paused. Ken was right next to her, having the same issue with his pale pink shorts, jacket, mesh shirt, white sandals, and sunglasses. Not wanting to make him feel the same way, she gathered up her things and walked around to the other side of the car, using it as a wall to separate the two of them. Then, she went back to taking off her clothes. The feeling was strange, and the action was one that she wasn’t used to doing, but it was conceptually simple enough. Pull over head and take arms out. Easy.

At least, it sounded easy. Her clothes were tight and didn’t want to come off. For a moment, she got stuck. She got the fabric over her head, but her arms were outstretched and trapped. Eventually, she got it worked out, but it did take her a few minutes to do it.

Once dressed, Barbie realized two things:

First, they didn’t have a way to carry their belongings now that the car was ruined. She didn’t think to bring any actual luggage. All her things fit in the trunk with room to spare and Ken wasn’t supposed to come with her.

Second, now that she wasn’t permanently on her toes, high heels didn’t feel as natural or comfortable as they used to. They hurt her feet and made it hard to walk for long periods of time. And, though she’d never noticed before, heels and the desert didn’t actually mix very well. The thin points sank in the loose dirt and the slick soles made the stones she stepped on roll beneath her, very nearly making her trip over and over again.

It couldn’t be that far, could it?

It couldn’t be that far….

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

📖🤹‍♂️🔞, pretty pleeeaasee ?

Collared But Untethered - Abner Krill/Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, slowburn, slight exhibition (Belle Reve), touch-starved induced desperation, making out, sudden smut, handjobs.

Wordcount: 2970

Summary: Even with every personnel in Belle Reve questioning why you wanted him, you kept coming back for more so long as they kept letting you touch him just out of sight.

Notes: Even when I try to drabble I still can't resist the buildup cause I love him so much oop- This is the first request I've ever gotten/filled so here we gooooo :'D I hope you like it, thank you so much for sending something in 💗💗💗

You were 100% certain that everyone had caught on by now to what you two were doing, but it was hard to care when orange fabric was bunched under your hands and the sound of his poorly quieted voice was in your ear. Belle Reve was well known for its lack of care towards its residents, so at first you’d both assumed that someone would barge in at any second to tear you apart, ban you from ever returning, but you were going on your fifth visit now with no one disturbing you, so even if you weren’t as perceptive as you’d thought and they were watching on a camera you’d missed no one made it known.

You’d first seen him on TV, shakycam footage barely capturing him as he and the other prisoners briefly designated as ‘Heroes’ made quick work of the current bigger threat destroying the city, and the way his powers had lit up the area in a rainbow of colours had instantly drawn you in, made you forget all about the danger as you hid in your apartment and waited in terror for it to be over, trembling hands clasped together in front of your heaving chest as you prayed you’d be safe. He’d destroyed that threat singlehandedly the second he was sure no one else was in his way, the others chiding him in the footage as he’d closed up on himself and apologized, having forgotten their goal of taking the villain alive so he could join them in their home. 

He was so unlike anyone you’d ever seen before, a timebomb of danger wrapped up in a polka-dotted bow, hands fidgeting and head downturned nervously while the destruction of what he could do showed all along the street up to where gory remains decorated the open main road.

As the reporter took over the submitted shakycam with her own live footage, people circled the villains to thank them, albeit keeping their distance even as they reached out to shake hands, pat backs, give gifts that would definitely be confiscated as soon as they returned. No one thanked him for killing their target, everyone too afraid of the gauntlets holding back bright lights and coloured dots, worried that he’d turn them on the crowd next even as the infamous Harley Quinn herself showed off the gun she’d stolen from one of the fallen policemen to a couple kids who’d wandered up to praise her without their parents’ permission.

That wasn’t fair at all, he’d needed some thanks too.

So you’d left your apartment and hurried down to them, the fight just a couple blocks away, the still burning circles in the buildings and pavement growing in number the further you got. They were already starting to get into the armoured vehicle that brought them there by the time you’d arrived, and you didn’t know his name so you could only call past the gathered guards making sure they didn’t run before he disappeared out of sight. He turned to face you, one of his teammates elbowing him to go when it became obvious that you were there for him; he walked back down the lowered ramp to approach, looking apprehensive that you’d want to talk to him when the others were right there, so you’d extended your hand to shake his, prove that you weren’t afraid but rather thankful for his help as you reached as far as you could between the two guards keeping you at a distance for your own safety.

The moment his hand touched your own you knew that you could never let him get away again.

Visitors to Belle Reve were always heavily inspected and supervised, no one ever allowed to meet face to face for fear of what could happen to either party as well as those around them, and they made that explicitly clear to you as you passed their inspections and were ushered down the hallway to the partitioned phones. The moment you told them that you were there for the Polka-Dot Man so they knew who to get they’d hesitated, turned halfway down the hallway to look at you like you were crazy, some weird thing to be studied for wanting to see him of all people. You’d just simply shrugged and told them you wanted to thank him for the other day.

He’d never had a visitor in all his time being there, and the moment he’d seen you holding the phone opposite of his own he’d gone red in the face, a mix of embarrassment for the continued support and obvious confusion as to why you’d sought him out a second time. It was cute, and while the conversation had been short, his voice low and answers coming out in single worded sentences as he thought about what to say, it still brought butterflies to your stomach until your time was up, your final question asking for his name before you were forced to hang up.

‘Abner…’ he’d told you, like he hadn’t said it in a long time. ‘Abner Krill.’

The second time you visited you asked for permission to talk to him face to face, as his voice barely carried over the phone and he had a tendency to forget he was holding it as he talked to the desk. Request denied, but they’d think about it for the right price, it wasn’t like he was going to escape his birdcage when it kept him safe from himself, the shiny collar around his neck stopping the kaleidoscope from painting the walls in cinders. That conversation had come easier, the guards getting bored and pulling out their phones as you talked about everything and nothing at all, his words flowing a little more freely.

The third time you’d gotten your request with the handing over of a few steep bills slid under the table, Abner looking around at the room before seeing you and smiling. There was a little more space between you compared to the phones but the wall was gone, and you almost missed his questions about your life as you watched his mouth speak, hands rubbing and fidgeting on top of cold metal in his persistent nervousness. The moment you’d started talking about yourself the guard watching over you had sighed loudly in annoyance and walked out, leaving the two of you alone to both of your surprise, the camera whirring in the corner telling you that they were still watching from afar at least.

You shook his hand again when time was up, and he trembled a little less as he stood before you, your bodies dangerously close for a quick moment before the guard rushed in to put a little space between you with an utterly confounded look shot in your direction.

The fourth time you looked around to see if there were more cameras than just the one over your shoulder before he was brought in, his eyes instantly brightening in your presence as they’d recently started to do. He looked more alive, his face less sunken like he was taking better care of himself so you wouldn’t worry, and you longed to hold him as the table became a deep crevasse between you. He wasn’t chained to it this time, they didn’t care enough and he knew better, he was well trained by now, and the moment you were left alone again you’d moved your chair to the empty space on the side, a little closer but not touching, testing the waters as you shot a glance to the camera to see if this was okay.

Nothing happened. No one came. Hands rested in sight as they reached but never touched, the crevasse a little smaller as the space between turned from feet to inches, then centimeters.

When your pinkies linked together it was like a bridge formed instantly, the two of you meeting in the middle as he closed his eyes and just breathed, completely calm as his free hand ran over his arm to make sure the gauntlets were gone, make sure he wouldn’t hurt you. He was touch-starved, that much was apparent as long fingers crawled over your own to create more points of contact, Abner fully holding your hand and forgetting that you were supposed to be talking. Your heart raced as you wanted more, wanted to see what other reactions you could pull from him if just this was enough to make him lean towards you, eager to invade your personal space, or perhaps invite you to invade his.

It was a space he guarded dearly, you’d learned as much over your visits as he told you about how the other inmates treated him, your touch so gentle compared to their punches, both of your chairs sliding over the floor as you closed the gap even more. Still no one came, your eyes going to the door to make sure they weren’t watching you through the wire-meshed glass to see what would happen next but the space on the other side was empty, the camera blinking red high above you as your legs made contact, a buzz of electricity shooting up your spine.

He tried to pull away, surprised by his own brazenness, or maybe it’d been an accident since he was so much taller than you, but you refused to let him, your leg pressed into the cold table leg almost painfully as you pulled him right back. The knowledge that you wanted him close, wanted to touch him even though he could burn right through you in an instant without the collar controlling him, made his chest start to heave then, eyes searching your face for fear but finding none.

Your hand unlinked from his before sliding up his arm, feeling the way he shivered as you reached his elbow, his bicep, muscles tensing under loose fabric just out of sight, a sigh leaving his lips as your fingers carefully trailed over his collar up to his cheek. He leaned into you, slowly at first, like you might change your mind and pull away at any second, his eyes closed tight as chair legs scraped over the ground. The gap closed more and more as you stood, leaned in close enough to see the scars of his time in this place, the way his lips parted ever so slightly as he let out shaky breaths, how long his lashes were as they fluttered in anticipation of what you were going to do next.

The door opened before you could make that final leap, the men who rushed in looking just as confused to your actions instead of angry, and while they weren’t rough with you they did tease him all the way down the hallway as he tried to hide the fact that he’d wanted you in those last seconds, your face flushing as pure longing rushed right to your gut at the sight of something hidden behind shaking hands as he was led to the showers to cool off.

The fifth time you’d come in you’d stared down everyone you passed as they whispered and nodded in your direction, not caring as you headed for your visiting room, no one stopping you even as they shook their heads and questioned your life choices. They still let you wait by yourself, your heart pounding as he was brought in and the door was closed behind him, the guard locking it muttering to himself about how he didn’t get paid enough for this. Abner didn’t even get a chance to sit down as you stood up and grabbed onto his shirt, pulled him down to continue what you’d started with a chaste kiss, testing the waters as he let out a surprised noise against your mouth before it turned into a moan, his hands hovering over you as he tried to decide what to do.

‘Touch me,’ you told him as you parted for a breath, the end of the collar pressing into your own throat as he groaned and kissed you back, dry lips parting to let you in as you ran your tongue experimentally over his bottom one. His hands wandered all over you, touching whatever he could now that he knew you wanted him to, his back hitting the wall and the collar scraping against the brick as he arched against you wantonly. It was like the floodgates had been opened, touch-starved desperation making him want more before you were separated again, your body ready to follow his every command should he ask, wanting nothing more than to make him feel good before he was forced to go back to his solitude. 

You palmed him over his pants and he keened needily, hips moving to feel you more before he stopped himself with a choked whine, he was asking too much too soon, surely you couldn’t want him that badly, surely now would be the time you’d come to your senses and see him like everyone else did. You nipped at his bottom lip, got him to look at you before you glanced up at the camera; it was facing the table, the two of you probably just in frame, so you led him to the corner directly underneath it, in its blindspot as you played with the hem of his pants.

‘Do you want this?’ you whispered, voice low so anyone outside wouldn’t hear, Abner’s eyes shut tight again as he nodded his head, slowly at first and then a little quicker as you made contact against his bare stomach. He was breathing so heavily, the growing tent just under where your hand rested making you lick your lips; they were bound to stop you before it got too heated but you could at least give him this, all your fantasies from the past month coming to life as you felt hot skin under your fingertips.

He sighed and let his head fall back, hands gripping you like a vice as you touched him, and you couldn’t help but wonder when the last time anyone else had touched him like this had been, if anyone ever had; it made you a bit jealous to think about the former, of someone else making him look this way before you, so you couldn’t help but selfishly wish you were the first as you wrapped your hand around him. His knees shook, he wasn’t used to it, your name falling from his lips as he started to buck desperately into your hand. 

He was beautiful as his jaw went slack, so open with what he wanted as he held you close, your own pleasure building just from watching him come so easily undone like it was the strongest aphrodisiac. His quiet voice came in handy as he moaned out his desires, how good it felt, how he needed more, pleas to not stop sending shockwaves all the way down to your toes as the words started to cut off the closer he got. You felt your throat tighten as his tongue peeked out to wet his lips, needing to taste him again as you swallowed and leaned up to capture him in a deep kiss, his tongue dancing over your own and refusing to let you get away in such a lewd way that it made your head spin.

He didn’t last long between your kisses and your hand attacking him at the same time, his hips jutting with a broken cry of pleasure into your open mouth as he came into your fist, palm gathering as much as you could for his sake. You didn’t realize you were panting as well with how turned on you were as his expression softened into one of pure bliss, a need filling your gut and making you burn with desire unlike anything you’d ever felt before as you wanted more. You pulled your hand free, mouth watering as you felt the sticky substance leak through your fingers, Abner just staring at you through half-lidded eyes as you raised your hand to your mouth, tongue darting out to taste when the door suddenly opened, two guards rushing in.

‘Alright, that’s enough of that,’ one of them said, your fist held by your side as you were pushed out of the way, Abner letting out an actual whine at not being able to return the favour before he was dragged out the door. Once he was out of sight you were led to the nearest bathroom, the guard not fooled at all by your attempted nonchalance and letting you wash up, your hand shaking as you still felt his heat against your wet skin. You wouldn’t do anything about your own situation until you were home, the guard just shaking his head as you rejoined him and followed him to the front doors, the detour allowing you a glimpse of Abner as he walked down a connecting hallway.

Despite the cuffs around his hands and the collar around his neck he looked relaxed, free, not even reacting as one of the inmates passing by tried to insult him, sharp canines biting his lip as he just stared the men down. You grinned, proud of him as you walked out of sight of him again, the highly protected doors leading to the outside world coming into view moments later. You didn’t leave right away, turning to talk over your shoulder as your escort waited impatiently for you to go, a gleam in your eye as you stared into his mask.

‘I’ll be back again next week,’ you promised, everything that came with that unsaid but understood, and he sighed before giving you a shove, everyone around you already whispering about the day’s visit as you just grinned and walked out into the warm Louisiana sun.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

i have a request for adult lottie x reader if u want?

something about reader also being part of the survivors, besties with nat <3, lottie and reader having dated in the past, then reader going almost no contact with the rest of the last yellowjackets because of everything that went down there and was too much to bear so reader left and went off to god knows where to travel the world or whatever,

ANYGAYS reader and lotties love never withered even after all that time SO THEN they reunite and its super heartwarming romantic bla bla with a bit of sadness and hurt because lottie really needed reader but they just up and left without telling a soul bla bla u can choose what u do with it or how it ends but thank u nonetheless

IN MYTH, YOU ARE MINE

pairing: adult lottie matthews x reader

word count: 1870

notes: not proofread. also i am so obsessed w the gif of her beneath this AHH inhale gay exhale gay inhale gay exhale gay live the gay taste the rainbow

Against the pull of any sort of sound judgment, you’d reconnected with Natalie after she'd gotten out of rehab. It was the only contact you’d had with any of the other Yellowjackets since the wilderness, and while you knew Natalie was still in contact with some of them you couldn’t face any of them but her.

The two of you had reconnected, by chance, at a time when both of you were in terrible states of mind and neither of you should have been under the influence of the other. You had just gotten fired from your job, and with Natalie out of rehab with no place to go you’d traveled to meet her and had ended up staying in the motel with her. All of it was a mess, but in your mind it was the best option.

But one day, Natalie told you everything she’d been doing with the other Yellowjackets, tried to get you involved — she told you about the blackmailer, about Shauna’s dead boyfriend, about Taissa almost killing her wife in the car wreck caused by whatever alter ego was supposedly possessing her.

You had snapped. You weren’t ready to face any of the other girls, not after all that had happened, and not after so many years. It was best to leave it all be. The past wasn’t worth reliving, and the things all of you did… you didn’t trust yourself anymore.

So you left. Without warning you left Natalie at the motel, gathering what little things you had and hitting the road. It was shitty of you, and you knew it, but you’d done it before to the other girls, and this was no different.

But Natalie had never tried to contact you. You didn’t receive a single text, a single call, and it had you worried, which is why when a New York number you didn’t recognize kept trying to call you, you apprehensively picked up.

“Who is this?” You asked tiredly, sitting in your car at a rest stop.

The line was quiet for a moment.

“Hello?” You tried again, and you were about to hang up when she spoke.

“I almost didn’t recognize your voice, it’s been so long.”

You paused, a sharp sense of shock flooding through you, and for a moment you deeply considered hanging up, but you knew if you did she would keep calling. She always had.

“Lottie,” you breathed, your tone neutral, somewhere between regret and rejoicing. “Lottie, how did you get my number?”

She cleared her throat awkwardly on the other end. “I have Natalie.”

“You have her? What, did you kidnap her or something?” You tried joking, but you became a bit concerned when she didn’t respond for a few moments. “Lottie, holy fuck, you didn’t kidnap her did you?”

“An intervention was required. It wasn’t a kidnapping.”

You resisted the urge to laugh. She sounded so serious, insisting upon the fact that it wasn’t a kidnapping. But then her words fully digested, and a quick flash of fear ran through you. “What happened to Natalie? Why did you have to take her, is she okay? And why are you calling me about it?”

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between the two of you,” she said, “if you were just friends, or if there was more—”

“No,” you said quickly. “That’s all it was.”

“Well, in any case, Natalie… She tried to shoot herself. About a day after you left. We’ve been watching the two of you to make sure you’re okay, but if we hadn’t been…”

You were silent. You had nothing to say as guilt crashed over you in waves, cold and heavy, leaving you empty.

“Come to Camp Green Pine,” Lottie said, interrupting your montage of self-blame. “We can help you here, and you can see her. You can see me.”

“You run the weird hippie cult with the purple people?”

“It’s heliotrope,” she said rather sharply, “it’s not purple.”

“Pardon me.”

“Follow the gray car parked across the parking lot from you. I’ll meet you at the entrance in an hour.”

She hung up.

A bit disturbed, you turned, and looking out the back window of the car you saw that indeed there was a gray car, and you shook your head, smirking slightly.

“Weird bitch,” you murmured to yourself.

But upon reflecting on your conversation, your heart dropped a bit. It was an oddly professional phone call, considering it was between two people who had dated in high school and during what happened in the wilderness, and you hadn’t spoken in at least 15 years or so. Then there was the way you’d left things between the two of you, not really bad but not really good. You’d just left, with no way for her to contact you.

The gray car began to pull out of the parking lot, and after a moment of hesitation you followed it. Part of you wanted to turn around, keep running, but you knew Lottie had probably prepared for that, and trying to leave would only make things worse.

You arrived at Camp Green Pine within an hour. As it turned out, you weren’t too far from it at all, your subconscious having guided you already to where you needed to be.

The gray car stopped in front of the entrance to the commune, and two people wearing purple sweaters jumped out, approaching your car to greet you. You stayed inside, a bit apprehensive about joining them.

One of them gestured for you to roll down your window, and when you did, he smiled gratefully.

“If you follow us,” he said, “we will take you to Charlotte. She has instructed us to lead you to the lake, and from there she will give you a tour of the place herself. She also told us to let you know Natalie is under sedation, but she is healthy and should be waking up soon.”

You followed the two through the forested path at the entrance to the commune, a heavy silence settling among you. It must have been blatantly obvious how much you didn’t want to be there, and you made no effort to disprove that.

Whatever entity or insanity had plagued you in the wilderness, you could feel it here too, just as strong as it had always been. As you approached the wooden dock of the lake that surrounded half of the commune, you were brought briefly back to the past, all those days you spent with Lottie and Lara Lee in the lake in the wilderness, the baptism, the readings, the plane. The heavy weight of grief settled like an unshakable rock in your chest, and you stood completely still, unable to move. For a moment you could see it all so clearly, and when you looked into the sky the only view you had was of Lara Lee in the fire of the exploded plain, falling into the water, Lottie’s screams.

“The view is what sold me on this place,” a voice said from behind you. Her voice, smooth and soothing in a way you didn’t want to admit, in the way it always had been.

Lottie stood at your side, and after a moment of hesitation you turned, taking her in, changed so completely by the years but somehow bearing a sameness about her that could never be replaced.

You weren’t entirely sure why, but your throat began to close and you were fighting off tears.

You couldn’t cry in front of her. You had been the one to leave, it was your guilt to bear, your burden to apologize for, but you couldn’t even speak.

Tentatively you reached for her, as if upon touching her she would disappear, a goddess of the wilderness existing solely in myth – but then again she may not have minded that, to give her mind and body and soul to that perpetually untouchable thing that spoke to her and her alone so clearly.

She took your hand, meeting your gaze, analyzing your expression carefully but at the same time so unbelievably calm.

“Come with me,” Lottie said softly, and with your hand still in hers you allowed her to lead you to a nearby cabin, cushions and a small coffee table on the floor. You vaguely noticed anything, however, but her, and that finally you were alone together.

“I missed you,” Lottie said quietly after a moment. “You never called. After I got back from Switzerland I never heard from you again. We were doing so well and then you just… disappeared.”

You nodded. It was a conversation you didn’t want to have, one you weren’t proud that you had to have, but there was no avoiding it. “I couldn’t handle it anymore. The way people would look at me or ask me about getting stuck there. The other girls were coping in their own ways, and after a few years… when you got sent to Switzerland… I didn’t think you were ever getting out of there, Lottie, and without you there was no reason for me to stay.”

“But after I got out–”

“I knew how pissed you would be. I had no excuses, I still don’t, not really. I don’t know how to apologize, and I can’t make things better. I thought it would be best if I just left you alone.”

She nodded thoughtfully, and both of you were at a loss of words, though so much had been left unsaid.

“I’m sorry,” you said at last. “I shouldn’t have left without an explanation. I shouldn’t have left at all.”

“Then stay now,” she suggested, as if that was her plan all along, to lure you here and trap you in her love. “Make up for lost time, yeah?”

“You’d want me to stay?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said, though really all you wanted was to stay with her and never leave. “I already fucked up before, and I don’t want to—”

Her lips crashed against yours, one of her hands sliding to the back of your beck, grounding you both, and you allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm of the two of you together, the feeling of her lips on yours, her love bringing you home. It had been so long since you’d kissed her, and a thousand emotions flooded you but the one that stood out the most was that, undeniably, this was right.

“I never stopped loving you,” she said once you’d pulled away for air, “even after you left.”

You nodded, hardly able to respond. “I’ve missed you for years.”

You allowed yourself another moment of indulgence, another kiss, and you could feel her longing, the hunger that had never left. You wanted to explore it, exploit it, make it yours in her arms.

“Stay with me,” Lottie said, and this time it wasn’t a question, it was a command.

A goddess of the wilderness, divinity personified and standing before you. The failures of the past were forgiven, and all was new. You allowed love to guide you, home found at last in her touch, and though years of fault had passed, in her presence you were eternal.