#maybe ill ask her again if i feel like i need it!

[ghosthoodie]

some days i think i need to be diagnosed for the disorders and some days i donttt bwuh ':]

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[bunnihearted]

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[batz]

-

[szczylpierdolony]

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[faaun]

update on gf situation btw . for those who r curious or sent asks etc

[delicatetaysversion]

dni.

[toastsnaffler]

SUDDENLY STARTED RAINING SO HARD WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK

[be-good-to-bugs]

one day everything is gonna be better!

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[beautiful-lively]

.

[moonstruckme]

mae my lovely, can i possibly request emt!marauders and reader who hasn’t replied to any texts in a few days/a week? pre-established relationship but not quite living together, and reader struggles with her mental health and has holed herself up in her apartment which worries the boys greatly? please don’t write if you feel uncomfortable (and if you’ve already written it but i’ve devoured emt!marauders today and i don’t think you have) obviously!! love you

Thank you for requesting my love! And thanks to @ellecdc for helping me figure out the emt stuff <3

cw: mental health struggles, self isolation

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Sirius’ knuckles rap loudly on your door. 

“Fuck, ease up.” James winces. “She’s gonna think we’re the cops.” 

“Good. Maybe she’ll answer for them.” 

“You need to calm down.” Remus’ voice is patience with a firm edge. “We don’t know what’s going on. If we go in angry with her, it’s not going to help anything.” 

“I think I have the right to be somewhat miffed,” Sirius argues. “You ghost someone after a first date, not once you’re in a relationship. It’s fucked.” 

“She’s not ghosting us,” James says certainly. Sirius’ mouth pinches in response.

James knows that, truly, his boyfriend is as worried as any of them. You’re well past the point in your relationship where you feel the need to establish the next time you’re going to meet before parting, but after your date last week it took the boys a few days to put it together that none of them had heard from you. 

At first, James presumed you’d simply gotten busy. Remus was convinced he’d done something to upset you. Sirius, secretly the most prone to worry, would rather believe he’s been slighted than consider the possibility that something might be keeping you from responding to their calls. Now that it’s been nearly a week, James is convinced something’s happened. You’ve had to take an emergency trip out of town or something’s spooked you and made you avoid them or—worst case scenario—you’re ill and have been holed up here with no one to check in on you for almost a week. 

Once he brought up that idea, it wasn’t difficult to convince his boyfriends to do a wellness check during their shift. 

“Just don’t be harsh with her,” Remus says gently. 

Sirius huffs. He knocks again, albeit somewhat softer. 

“NHS,” he calls. 

James holds his breath when he hears some shuffling from inside. Gradually, it gets closer and louder, until the door is creaking open and you’re peering through the crack. 

Your voice is scratchy, like you haven’t used it in a while. “What’re you doing here?”

James expects Sirius to snipe at you, is already prepared to smooth it over himself with kinder words and a gentler tone, but something seems to shift in the other boy at the sight of you. He pushes through the crack in your door, hugging you fiercely. 

“We…” Remus seems as thrown by this deviation as James is. “We thought we ought to check up on you.” 

Your hand migrates up, touching Sirius’ back tentatively. “Why?”

“It’s a wellness check.” Sirius’ voice is bitter, but the effect is somewhat muddled by how he’s speaking into your neck. “We had reason to believe you could be harmed or deceased.” 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

James takes a moment to look you over. You’re in pajamas, visibly rumpled, and yet you look as tired as if you’ve not slept in some time. There’s something off about your expression, something missing that he can’t put his finger on. It’s unsettling in a way that makes him want to wrap you up in a tight cuddle and not let go. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, perhaps more brash than he means to be. Normally he’d expect more tact from himself, but he’s shocked Sirius hasn’t asked yet, and someone has to.

“Can we come in?” Remus asks at the same time. 

You look between them like you’re not sure what to do with them. Like you’re questioning whether you’re still in some sort of dream. 

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. James gets the sense you mean it to answer both of them. You step back from the door to make room for them, and Sirius moves with you. “Um, forewarning, it’s really bad in here.” 

Really bad by your standards isn’t the same as James’. If he hadn’t seen the way you normally keep things, he’d never notice anything was amiss. Your place smells a bit stale, like when you leave for a weekend and then come home. There’s a laundry basket on the floor with a few balled socks like you’d started to fold them and given up, and if he peers into your bedroom he can see a small trash pile on your floor and the covers of your bed all twisted up. It’s no worse than his side of the dorm he’d shared with Remus and Sirius in school. 

“What happened?” Sirius asks you. His voice sounds clearer now, and James focuses back in to find that he’s let you go enough to press his forehead to yours. His brow and lips are pinched. “Why have you been avoiding us?” 

James is nearly overcome by the desire to kiss him and rub his back, but he decides to let you have the honor, if you want it. 

You look unsure whether you do. 

“I’m sorry.” The words seem scraped out from some aching part of you. “I wasn’t trying to.” 

“Then why didn’t you answer our calls?” Sirius’ tone matches yours for desperation. Remus’ expression twinges compassionately. 

“I couldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Sirius,” Remus chides softly. 

Your shoulders are slumped, but when Sirius moves away you seem to droop further. He’s only giving you space, his expression far from unkind. 

“Why couldn’t you pick up, dove?” Remus asks gently. 

“I…” Your eyes meander the floor. “I didn’t know what to talk about. And then my phone died, and it was just easier. I’m really sorry.” 

“Is talking to us really that bad?” Sirius is clearly making an attempt at joking, but the heartache underlying his words is unmissable. 

“No,” you sigh. “I’m just not really fit for the world right now. I didn’t want you to worry.” 

James’ ribs hurt at your admission, but he feels himself nodding. Even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is you’re dealing with, he’s familiar with people who think they’re somehow so damaged they don’t deserve to engage with anyone or anything. Sirius was like that once. Remus even more often. He sees the recognition on both of their faces now, pity and love and regret all tangled up into one messy thing. 

“Well, it was a noble effort,” says James, giving you a small smile, “but you can’t stop us worrying. Can I hug you?”

You nod, making an effort towards returning his smile. It’s a half-hearted, flickering thing, but he appreciates it nonetheless. 

He kisses your forehead as he folds you into his arms, starting gentle and tightening when you hug him back. Your grip feels a bit weak, if ardent. James pushes his palm up your spine. 

“Have you eaten today, sweetheart?” 

Your hum in the negative vibrates against his skin. 

“I’ll make us something.” Remus starts toward the kitchen, passing a hand over James’ curls as he goes by. “A sandwich alright, dovey?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” His voice raises as he enters the kitchen, and James knows he wants you to hear. To understand that this is something he would happily do for you. 

“Let’s sit down,” James suggests. “Pads, would you mind opening the curtains some?” 

Sirius complies with vigor, whipping open your drapes while James gets you situated on the couch. In the light, the shadows under your eyes are more evident, as is the redness in them. 

James squishes you up against his side. Rubs up and down your arm. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. 

You make a tiny, stymied sound, and turn your head down. 

“Hey.” Sirius sits on your other side. He kisses your shoulder, worry hewn into the lines of his face. “What’s wrong?” 

Your shoulders give a little shake. It’s small, defeated. You curl further in on yourself. 

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

“You don’t have to explain,” James tells you, continuing to drag his hand up your arm. “It’s okay. You’re alright.” 

“I wanted—” You take in a wet inhale. He feels close to tears himself. “I wanted to be better when I saw you. I’m sorry.” 

“We don’t need you to be any sort of way, sweetheart.” Sirius’ voice is soft but fervent. “We just want to be with you.”

“As much as you’ll let us,” James agrees. His own voice is thick, and Sirius slides his arm around you to rub between his shoulders. 

You don’t say much after that. James holds you tight until your trembling stops, and even then he only loosens his grip to let you eat the grilled cheese Remus has made for you. From the wrappers he saw in your room, it’s likely the closest thing to a prepared meal you’ve had in some time. 

When you’re done eating, Sirius insists on kissing the saltiness from your cheeks even though your tears have dried. Remus coaxes you into a bath while James and Sirius tidy your room and change your sheets, and then Remus enlists Sirius to shampoo your hair while he tucks your sheets in more effectively. They put your phone on the charger. James makes dinner and puts it in the fridge for you to have later. None of it fixes anything, but he hopes it makes you feel less alone. 

When they have to go out for another call, Remus gives you a long hug, James makes you agree to go on a walk with him the next day, and Sirius threatens to pester you with calls until you block his number if you ignore them ever again. 

Your eye roll at his antics makes James’ heart sing.

[carebearbussy]

𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 (𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖?), 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.7k

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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It was morning, as you were seated at a large gazebo with the very few concubines whom you had respect for. You drank the tea a maid had gotten for you, as you took small bites of pastry from the treat stand in the middle of the round table. The greenery of the courtyard made the day all the much better.

These concubines were also some of the few Sukuna had approved of you being around, so it felt nice to have some sense of normalcy. The girls all admired you, and the love their lord had for you. As the conversation went on, the talks ranged from talking about how great Lord Sukuna was, all the way to asking you personal questions. Until one of the younger concubines asked you a peculiar question.

"Have you ever tried sneaking out, Y/N?"

It rolled off her tongue out of sheer curiosity. "Yes, please tell us!", another one spoke up. The girls sitting around you looked ready for your answer. But you were dumbfounded at that thought. "No, I haven't." You answered, not wanting to even think about that. Sneaking out? Sure, you had your freedoms with Sukuna, but you never got to go out alone before. You wondered what it would be like, after all, and all the great things you could do. Shopping? Seeing your family on your own? Even for one night would really be something to wonder about.

"Really? Im suprised, considering how much Lord Sukuna dotes over you." An older one spoke, acting as more of a parental figure in the estate for you. "I guess... but I never really thought of that. And I don't really want to know what would happen if I were to ever do that." You spoke, searching for opinions from the other girls. "Maybe you should try! We can help you!" Another younger concubine spoke enthusiastically. "We can have a private girls trip!"

Private? Girls night? Those two things didn't sound appealing, especially to somebody in your position. Ever since Sukuna had taken a sudden liking to you, your world of privacy was thrown out the window. Everything seemed to involve him somehow, even when he was not present. A look of distain crosses your face, as you overthink everything.

"Please Y/N! We wont get caught I promise! How about tonight? We can all make preparations, while you just sit back and let us do the work!" And with that, everybody else seemed to agree. Besides, what complete harm could sneaking out for one night do?

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It was the covet of night, as Sukuna had just fallen into deep sleep. His arms were securely wrapped around your body, as you layed on top of his. You blew onto his eyes, just to check to see if he was truly asleep. No reaction. You felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, indicating he had to ill feeling you would try to leave. When he was asleep, it was usually very difficult to escape his grasp. Even when you needed to use the restroom, he would refuse to let you go in most cases.

You ever so slightly slid off of his body, using your hands to try and pry yourself free. You had gotten his top set of hands off your back, but as you were about to fully escape, you heard a low voice.

"Where do you think you are going?" He asked you, only opening his lower set of eyes. You felt your whole body heat up in a nervous mess. "I-was just using the restroom." You say, as your voice starts to crack a bit. "... have one of your servants go with you, like always." He says, while squinting at you. "Don't make me wake up again, brat." And with that, he calls for a servant, thankfully being your close friend in the estate, Miko.

He watches as you move towards the bathroom, and now confirming you were indeed going to the bathroom, he falls back asleep before saying, "And be quick."

As he falls asleep, you and Miko head to pack your belongings into a large bag, making sure to pack all of your essentials. Tip-toeing towards the door, you watch Sukuna with every step, worrying he might wake up and surprise you out of nowhere. But your fears are overtaken with confidence, as you have now reached the sliding shoji doors that lead to the first part of the courtyard. You give Miko a glance, before slowly opening the door, making sure not to wake up Sukuna.

As you open the door, you see the moonlight shine upon the estate, and reflecting on the large fountain in the middle. You had never been out here on your own, really. It was refreshing to be here so late. You stood by the door for a good while, before Miko spoke up.

"Y/N, whats wrong?" She asked you, as she tugged on your hand to keep going forward. "Nothing- its just I have never been out at night alone." You say, as you look around at outside. It was beautiful outside. The air was chilly, but the wind kept at a steady pace, with your thin satin nightgown not helping the chilly air. The wind blew your hair slightly out of your face, letting you get a better view of the outside.

"But you aren't alone, you're with me! And plus, we still have to meet up with the rest of the ladies, so lets go!" Miko says, her head slightly tilted. "Yeah, your right." You say, as Miko leads the way.

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You arrived near the front gate, but far enough to not be seen by the guards. The guards have been given strict orders to return you if you were ever to be caught sneaking out. And you knew this. You and the group of concubines sat near the bench, talking about your escape plan quietly. In the back, you can hear the crickets buzzing as the night goes on.

"Okay so, whats the plan?" You asked, causing all of the girls to look over at each other in disappointment. "So your telling me, you made me sneak out in the middle of the night, just for all of you to not know what to do?" You asked frantically, but still whispering. "Okay okay, calm down. We are not going to get caught, especially for how far we have gotten." The older one spoke up. "Exactly! We have gotten so far, we cant stop now." Miko spoke up, lightly rubbing your shoulder.

You start to overthink all of the possibilities in one moment. Will he yell at you? Kill you? No, he could never do that, but the thought of that makes your mind go fuzzy in a way you cannot explain.

"I don't know guys, we should just go back-" Your words are interrupted when you bump into a particularly large wall. Wall? No, this was Sukuna. You drop your bags, as all the respect in your body is put forward.

"Oh? What do we have here?" Sukuna says condescendingly. In an instant, everybody in his vicinity including you cowers to their feet to bow, leaving no room for questions. Behind Sukuna, who was towering over everybody menacingly, was Uraume, as well as a couple guards huddled behind Uraume. Sukuna proceeds to pick you up by the nightgown, as you dangle while looking into his eyes, causing you to shut your eyes out of pure fear.

"Im sorry 'Kuna, i'm so sorry-" "Sorry for? Its clearly not your fault, but these incompetent women you call your friends. Clearly I need to keep better watch." He says, then glaring down at the set of women before him. He scoffs at them, before he hoists you over his shoulder, holding you on there with one hand on your ass, and another wrapped securely around your back.

"Uraume, take care of these women, and make sure they stay clear of Y/N in the future." He says, before turning the other way, walking off with you back to bed. How did he know? You were sure to cover your tracks well. But this confirmed your suspicions, you really couldn't hide from Sukunas grasp. "Right away, my lord." Uraume replied, as they made a flick of the hands, signaling the guards to do their job.

As you are steered away from the scene, you get a good look of your group of friends being halled away by the guards. But Sukuna does not like ruining the image he had gone out of his way to make for you, so he covers your eyes with one of his free hands. You try to move his hands away from your eyes, but to no avail. "What are you doing with them? Where are you taking me?" You say, kicking your feet at his chest, but the mouth on his stomach catches your foot.

"Back to bed, where you belong. And then i'm going to teach you about the things that happen when you try to pull stunts like this."

What. What did he mean by that? "What made you think I would not find out about such trivial things? You are horrible at hiding things from your king, brat." He says, with a 'tsk'. "I said I was sorry, just please!" You said, a look of concern evident on your face. "Please don't hurt my friends!"

"Friends? There is no need for those anymore, now that I know their intentions, must have not been some very good 'friends' if they were planning on leading you away from me."

The walk back to your bedroom is quiet, mostly consisting of your heartbeat racing, the only thing keeping your mind steady are the steps of Sukunas strides. As he reaches the front steps, he places you down on the ground with care. His stature towers over yours, as he reaches out to place a hand on your chin, forcing you to look back up at him, the moonlight reflecting behind him.

"I do not know where you were planning on going, but you wont get very far without me, just so we're clear."

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[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

fresh out the slammer // mattheo riddle x fem reader

playlist : fresh out the slammer - taylor swift

summary : after a 6 month relationship with the narcissistic cormac mclaggen youre finally free and ready to move on asap.

gryffindor reader , y/n used , swearing

masterlist

"fuck you mclaggen!" you screamed as you ran out of his dorm , having caught him snogging a random ravenclaw girl.

your anger was going wild as he chased you down the corridor , shouting pleas of forgivness. but you couldnt help feel relieved to finally have an excuse to break up with him , the happiness and fury seemed to merge into one in your mind.

"mclaggen speak one more word and i swear to merlin ill FUCK YOU UP!" you screamed in his face making him abruptly stop before you turned around and stormed out of the portrait hole.

"yeah well youre ugly anyways!" he deperatly shouted after you as you laughed , making sure he would hear ,"and youre a bitch!"

"and your dick is small!" you shouted back at him , flipping him off just in time before the portrait hole slammed shut.

you let out a sigh of relief when it finally shut , the fat lady staring down at you with suprise before giving you a soft hum of approval , getting back to her normal position.

your whole face brightened into a grin as the realisation sunk in , you were single....but you were free from mclaggen!!

practically skipping to the great hall with a bright grin you waved and greeted every person that passed happily , many were confused by your happiness.

but your friends were even more confused when you ran into the great hall , sprinting to the gryffindor table and stopping infront of them.

"IM FREE!" you cheered before jumping up and down on the spot.

they all stared at you like youd gone mad as you quickly realised hogwarts gossip was quick- but not so quick your breakup from 3 minutes ago wouldve reached them yet.

"free from what?" harry finally broke the silence as you grinned at him.

"MCLAGGEN!" you squealed in excitement before sitting down next to ron.

they all seemed confused until hermione face morphed into pure shock , "you broke up with him?!"

both harry and ron quickly let out "ohh"s of realisation as you nodded with happiness , "i caught him snogging a ravenclaw , great right?! i was so angry at the time but when i realised i was free of him , i practically danced here!"

hermione held back a laugh , "y/n im so sorry thats awful!".

"the only awful thing about it is mclaggens breath," ron muttered as you laughed and shoved him arm causing him to gasp , "thats the first time youve ever laughed at a mclaggen joke , you usually smack the back of my head!".

"yeah well now that im not tied to that physco , i can laugh again!" you beamed like the sun as they all couldnt help but smile.

"im happy for you , happy break up," harry supported with a smile.

"thanks harry!" you then turned serious , "maybe i should be single for a while , i need to recover from the trauma that is being that goblins girlfriend."

ron snorted besides you as hermione let out a small giggle before spotting something behind you and smirking , "yeah i dont think being single will last too long."

"youre right , i just want to kiss someone right now ,because i can!" you laughed.

"yeah well i think i know someone very willing to volunteer for that," hermione said as you smirked and looked at her 'who?' she flicked her eyes back behind you , "riddle. the boy has been obsessed since third year everyone knows it."

"seriously?!" you asked in complete shock as heat rushed to your cheeks , the truth is youve liked him for a very long time , but his cold nature made you dismiss it as a unrealistic crush.

"y/n he hexed mclaggen twice when he found out you were dating." harry said blankly as if this infomation was well known.

"that was him?! mclaggen told me his nose was abnomrally large because the twins pulled a prank on him."

"oh yeah that was the twins but the boils all over his face and the uncontrollable itching? riddle." ron nodded.

"i just thought it was a rough week for him wow" you whispered , all the peices falling into place as you finally decided to turn around to look at mattheo.

and there he was , staring right back at you with his head in his hands , seemingly in a daze. until he quickly snapped out of it when you winked at him.

in mattheos opinion you were the prettiest and funniest girl he knew , and you didnt know him. so when you winked at him and giggled at the scarlett blush that formed on his cheeks , he nearly passed out.

"look at little mattys cheeks!" theodore teased having seen the whole thing ,"did the pretty gryffindor finally give you a glance matty?"

mattheo threw him a cold glare before looking at your back that was now turned to him , he had learned to tune out his friends teasing , especially since it had plagued him every day since third year.

but what he didnt expect was for you to get up out of your seat and run over to him with a bright smile , stopping infront of him and sitting down in the empty spot beside him. even his teasing friends had gone dead silent seeing the gryffindor girl infront of them.

"hi! mattheo right?" you grinned at him as he stared back with wide eyes.

"y-yeah yeah thats me," he struttered.

"sorry , i do know your name its just my friends call you riddle so much i had to make sure. i mean how could i forget such a handsome face?" you winked as everyones jaws dropped, mattheos especially.

"i- thank you..you....youre gorgeous!" the last part came out in a flustered shout as the whole hall turned around in surpise and his friends hid the giggled behind their hands.

you blushed. YOU BLUSHED?! mattheos brain was going into overdrive as the pink hue lit up your cheeks , he never knew it was possible for you to get even prettier.

"t-..thank you mattheo. look i know weve never really talked before , but ive always thought youre funny and nice eventhough you keep to yourself, and obviously hot" his face turned fully red as you so casually gave him the most compliments hes ever recieved in his life, "i was wondering if you wanted to go to hogsmeade with me?"

you smiled hopefully as he stared back with pure suprise on his face. you sat like this for a few moments as he recollected his thoughts , unmoving.

"YES PLEASE!" he said loudly making you laugh as people turned yet again.

"youre cute! see you there!" you said adoringly before kissing his cheek and walking back to the gryffindor table.

the whole of his friend group sat in silence before mattheo banged his head on the table letting out a loud groan of frustration, embarrassment rushing through his veins. this cued the loud howls of laughted from his friends.

"yes please!! he said yes please!!" lorenzo wheezed.

"ive never seen something so awkward in my life!" pansy choked through hysterical laughter , clutching dracos arm for support.

"mattheo for someone so cold and untouchable , you acted like a ten year old!" blaise laughed at him.

mattheo lifted his head from the table , face still as crimson as the ribbon in your hair , "remind me to throw myself off the astronomy tower."

draco dramatically gasped , "not before your big date!" he said in a sarcastic teasing.

and from the gryffindor table you also radiated a crushing embarassment , "i asked if he was called mattheo , UGH!".

[rafeandonlyrafe]

tee time

words: 1.5k

warnings: really really overly fluffy, lots of golf talk that idk if its correct yall im not a golfer, rafe squeezes her butt but its not a sexual fic :), lots of kisses omfgggggg these bitches in LOVE (this is a really boring fic im sorry)

“does this look golf-y enough?” you ask rafe as you pout in the mirror, adjusting your skirt again, feeling like your tennis shoes are out of place when you'd usually be wearing heels or sandals.

“baby, we are just playing for fun. you look cute.” rafe says, glancing at his watch.

“should i do my hair differently? pigtails maybe?” you question, twisting your ponytail around your hand.

“baby…” rafe sighs.

“okay, okay.” you raise your hands up. “im done. sorry.” you giggle as you turn to him, pressing a kiss to his lips, having to bend down to where he's sat on the edge of the bed.

“it's okay, you're excited.” rafe says softly, reaching around you to grab the back of your thighs, fingers moving up to your skirt, squeezing your ass.

“i am excited.” you gleam at him. “me and bianca went to putt putt the other day to practice.”

“you're gonna do great, baby.” rafe gives your ass another squeeze before standing, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the door.

you've been wanting rafe to take you golfing ever since you started your relationship, but usually he'd already have plans with topper or his other country club friends, and you didn't want to intrude.

when rafe offered the other day to let you putt for him, you jumped at the chance.

“im not gonna like, ruin your average right?” you ask as rafe pulls into a parking spot.

“no, baby.” rafe laughs softly. “don't worry.”

“okay.” you smile as he gets out of the truck, rounding it to open the door for you. nobody would ever guess that rafe would be a sweet and caring boyfriend, but he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky, and treats you better than you could have ever imagined.

he takes your hand in his as he leads you towards the golf cart, frowning when he realizes you're squinting in the sunlight.

“stay here.” rafe says, allowing you to sit down on his family cart, his clubs already loaded onto the back.

“okay.” you watch as he goes to the truck, jogging to get back to you as he hands you a pair of sunglasses.

“whose are these?” you ask. they look like your style, but you're certain this isn't a pair you own.

“i saw them one day at the mall and thought you'd like them so i bought them.” rafe shrugs. “figured i could keep them in the truck in case you ever forgot yours.”

“raaaafe.” you coo out, pulling him in for a kiss, which he happily accepts.

“ill let you drive once we get further out on the course.” rafe says, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the cart on before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, willing to drive with just one hand even though it was harder, needing you close to him as you press your side against his.

rafe pulls up to the first tee, waiting for a moment to feel the wind on his face before he turns to look at you, noting the way your ponytail is being blown slightly eastward.

“give me a good luck kiss for this drive, baby.” rafe says.

you pucker your lips and press a smack against his lips before he grabs a club. 

you let out a cheer when rafe hits the ball, but honestly you lost sight of it in the air and even if you watched the whole way, you wouldn't have known if it was good or bad.

“yes.” rafe pumps his fist. “need you out here more often, my good luck charm.” rafe climbs back into the golf cart, taking off towards where his ball landed.

“gonna land this on the green for you, baby.” rafe says with a confident smile, and he does indeed get the ball pretty close to the hole. 

you're not sure if cheering is generally accepted on the golf course, but you can't help but hype your man up.

“alright.” rafe pulls the cart to a stop near the ball. “it's on you, princess.”

you step out of the cart, looking at your options before grabbing what you assume is the putter, only because it looks similar to clubs used for mini golf.

“if you don't make it the first time, that's okay.” rafe says, removing the flag from the hole. “i won't be mad.”

“mkay.” you look at the distance to the hole, no silly obstacles in the way like there was in your practice.

you give it the ball a tap, frowning with disappointment when it stops rolling only a foot away from the hole.

“that was actually so good!” rafe says, a smile on his face. “just a little more power and it would have been in for sure.”

you nod, taking a breath before lining up your next shot, letting out a scream and jump in the air as the ball falls into the hole.

“that's par, baby!” rafe wraps his arms around your waist, twirling you around.

“oh my god, we crushed that!” you cheer. 

rafe sets you down carefully, but not before pressing a kiss against your lips.

“wanna drive us to the next tee?” he asks, laughing when you enthusiastically nod. rafe drives you literally everywhere, so you haven't been behind the wheel of anything in months.

rafe retrieves the ball and places the flag back in the hole before getting into the passenger side, a smile on his face as you stick your tongue barely out between your lips in concentration. 

rafe loves the look on your face so much that he insists you drive for the rest of the holes. you're tired by the time you reach the last hole, but don't wanna disappoint rafe by not putting.

“you okay, princess?” rafe asks, running his hand over your ponytail, smoothing it down comfortingly.

“mhm.” you nod, but rafe can see that you're getting sleepy, no doubt ready to go home and take a nap.

“how about we do this putt together, yeah?” he asks.

“yes, please.” you pout out your lower lip, rafe leaning forward to capture it between his teeth, tugging it gently before releasing and kissing you.

rafe stands, moving slowly as you get yourself in position before coming behind you, wrapping his arms around your body to grip onto the stick over your hands. he controls the swing and you watch, your back pressed up against his chest, as it falls into the hole.

“perfect job, baby.” rafe says, snuggling into your shoulder, giving your neck a quick kiss before allowing you to go back to sitting on the cart. you slide over to the passenger seat as rafe returns.

he chuckles gently before driving you back towards the clubhouse, thumb gently stroking against your upper arm as you lean against him, tucked into his side.

“someone is sleepy.” rafe says.

you let out a yawn. “it's not my fault you like to golf early in the day. why can't tee time be after like noon or something?”

“i usually golf at this time because you're still asleep and i don't like to be away from you.” rafe says, parking the cart and leaving it to be put properly away by the workers, needing to get you back home and in bed.

the sun has been covered by clouds, so when you climb back into rafes truck, you take your sunglasses off and place them in the center console for next time you forget yours.

you struggle to keep your eyes open for the short drive back to tanneyhill, not wanting to fall asleep in the truck. you know rafe will drive around aimlessly to not disturb your nap, even if he's tired himself. one time he drove around for an entire night just because he said you looked so peaceful sleeping he couldn't bare to move you.

“home, darling.” rafe says, yours eyes fluttering open, not having gone fully asleep yet but the soothing driving by rafe and hum of the engine had your eyelids drooping.

rafe carries you inside and up the stairs, getting out a pair of pajamas for you to change into despite it being midday.

“how long do you expect me to nap for?” you giggle, changing quickly with the last bit of energy you have left.

you sit down on the bed, knowing you should take your ponytail out and brush through your hair, but your arms don't feel like lifting.

you don't even need to ask rafe before he's moving, carefully taking out your elastic before grabbing the brush off your vanity that he set up in his room not long after you started dating.

he brushes gently through your hair, getting out any tangles that accumulated throughout the golf trip.

you crawl up the bed as rafe changes into a pair of sweatpants, going without a shirt as he sees your eyes closing, struggling to stay awake until he's in next to you.

you snuggle instantly into his chest the second hes underneath the covers, sighing happily when you feel his warmth.

“goodnight, princess.” rafe kisses the top of your head. “i love you.”

with your last waking moment, you manage to mutter those three words back to him.

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