#something something two people grieving in different ways and finding solace in each other's company

[anachronistic-falsehood]

waittttttt hang on. what if i wrote. a trimax oneshot abt vash and livio. what then. hmm. what then

[yesimwriting]

Solace (part 2)

SOLACE (part 2)

A part two but kinda works as a stand alone!!

A/n y’all seemed to like the first one so I thought I’d make a part two :)) This was NOT meant to be a series but now I kind of have an idea to make this a mini series where each part is kind of a blurb that connects to the last part and I think I might do that. 

Pairing: General Kirigan/the Darkling x Heartrender! reader

Summary: The day after you go visit General Kirigan at night is also the day he decides he can become more honest about his intentions for you. The softness of it all is starting to get to you but you have a good friend to remind you that it’s okay to feel happy. 

-- 

The sunlight peers into the room shyly. It stirs me awake into a soft bliss. Warmth. When was the last time I woke up feeling so warm? So rested? I squint my eyes open, still calm. But when my vision finally adjusts, I feel like ice all over again. This is not where I’m supposed to be. 

Memories of sneaking here in the darkness of night, speaking to Kirigan so freely, and then letting him convince me to stay. He had seemed to want me here then, in the night when loneliness finds easy prey in even the most hardened individuals...but now, in the morning sunlight--he’ll regret it. We made it clear I’d stay only that night--and that night is now gone. Maybe he expects me to be gone before he rises. I know that’s what most men expect after taking company for the night, but we didn’t exactly partake in activities like that. I think what we did is worse. 

Relations like that are about desire, falling asleep with someone else borders on intimacy. One misstep and who knows what I’ll invoke? I shift my gaze upwards, careful to not move in hopes of not disturbing the arms he’s draped across my back, holding me to him. Kirigan seems different in sleep, softer. His features are still sharp, but there’s something gentle about seeing him vulnerable. Something about the way his lashes brush against his cheeks and his lips stay parted just slightly. This moment can never repeat itself. It can never happen again, so I’ll have to hold onto this. 

Cautiously, I prepare to slip out of his grasp even though it feels like its the only thing tethering me to this world. I touch his first hand, moving it off of me slowly. I wait a second, and when he remains unstirring I move his other hand. 

“What are you so eager for, little wolf?” The raspy, tired quality of his voice leaves my stomach fluttering. His words jar me so much I find myself frozen. 

He reaches lazily, placing an arm on the center of my back, trying to ease me back into place. “It’s morning now.” 

His thumb brushes up and down my back in a way meant to lull me. “I’m the Shadow Summoner, the night lasts as long as I want it to.” He lets out an easy breath, “And I’m prolonging it.” 

Ignoring the warmth the implications of his words bring, I decide to focus on how dramatic he is. “Dramatic even so early in the morning.” 

Kirigan’s eyes flutter open, the slightest smile playing at the edge of his lips. “Watch yourself, little wolf.” There is no malice in his voice, only something hinting at teasing too humane for me to trust. 

I roll my eyes, letting his fingers brush wherever he wants them to--up and down my back, down the arms I am too aware of. The desire to touch him easily, casually, just to prove that I have that privilege. I stretch, pushing down thoughts of rejection as I place a hand on his chest. He pauses, one hand frozen in place on my back. Slowly, he moves his hand away from me. I tense, preparing to retract my hand. He catches my hand before I can pull it away, moving it towards him easily until my hand is against his cheek. 

“Y/n.” He’s called me my name so few times, and the restraint in his voice leaves me unnerved. “Will you wear a black kefta today?” 

His color. Perhaps he meant the promise of solace more literally than I thought. Anyone who sees me will think I’ve been claimed by him in one way or another. Perhaps I have been. The thought stirs my chest, moving me in a way I can’t distinguish as a positive or negative. I feel myself being ensnared in a lovely trap, but when I look at him, at the honesty burning in his gaze, it’s almost as if he’s asking me to claim him. 

“Yes.” Again the word leaves me as if willed by some outside force. 

Kirigan’s intensity dwindles slightly. His hand drops from over mine, but I keep mine on his cheek, running my thumb across his skin. “You’ll do good for me today, little wolf.” His words leave no room for argument. I think speaking like that is a talent of his. “You always do so good for me.” The admiration in his words melt something in me, my entire body warmed in a way I don’t understand. Kirigan brushes his knuckles across my cheek again. 

I’ve been silent for too long, each second I waste inflating his ego. “You’re suspiciously nice in the mornings.” 

“You’re only skeptical because you never let anyone take care of you.” His words are chiding and the implication of them leaves my face warm. “So much promise,” he muses, hand trailing down my jawline, “So much power,” his fingers skim down my neck and across my collarbone. “I wonder what someone like you could do with an amplifier.”

An amplifier. I’ve seen them in use, and knowing what I could do with something that strengthens my already abrasive abilities. I could be a monster so easily. Kirigan must see some of my concern because he’s quick to sit up a little more in order to close the distance between us the way he did last night. He brushes his lips against my collarbone in a way that leaves me distracted by wanting. A wanting for what, I’m not sure. I ease into his touch. 

“Today everyone will know what you are.” His voice is gentle against the base of my neck. “And they will know that we are meant to be equals.” 

I feel the need to panic rise in my chest, but it’s dulled by the warmth his lips leave against my skin. “I’m only a Heartrender, I can’t be your equal.” 

“You are,” he whispers, so assured, “With a heart as good as yours you may even be more.”

His words are too weighted for so early in the morning, but there is always tension with him. Shadows are meant to be weightless but I think they’re like anything else--carry enough of them and eventually you’ll break. 

When he straightens I move to follow him, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. “You’re good, too.” There has to be goodness in him. No one capable of such warmth and gentleness can be made up entirely of wicked things. 

“You claimed I was a villain.” 

Did my words really impact him so? “My opinion isn’t law.” 

Something strange flickers across his features. “It might as well be.” 

I swallow back a bundle of nerves. “Sometimes I’m wrong.” 

The words crack something vulnerable in me. A part of me thinks he can feel the part of me that’s breaking in hopes of offering him something. 

“You really are my solace.” I don’t know how to reciprocate such a gilded sentiment. 

I rest my head against his shoulder, taking his hand. “I’m glad to be that.” 

He squeezes my hand. “We should go get ready before people start to notice our absence.” 

I consider reminding him what he told me last night, but he has a point. There’s a difference between a rumor of me pacing in the night and both of us showing up late at the same time. Still though, a part of me is already grieving this version of Kirigan. Outside of this room his coldness will return. ‘Just for tonight’. We had agreed on that. But when the night ended, and the morning sun colored us both sane again, he had asked me to wear his color. 

“I’ll go get dressed,” I stay still. 

Kirigan runs his thumb over my knuckles. “I’ll have a black kefta sent to you.”

That has to mean something. Wait--do I want it to mean something? I pull my hand away from his stiffly, standing because I know the longer I’ll wait the worse it will be. “I’ll see you during training.” 

“My door will be unlocked after.” 

At that, my chest swells. He’s offered me an opening. “Good to know.” 

His eyes narrow slightly at my coyness. “Find me after?” 

“Only because you’re nicer in here.” He wants me to come back. 

--

The black kefta does not feel like my own. The color is too alluring, too dark and enthralling. It is not meant for someone like me. It feels borrowed, but I’m not entirely uncomfortable. It’s almost like he’s still with me, keeping me from being alone. 

When I walk down the halls, I feel the stares of the others sticking to me like tar. They barely tolerated me before--the grisha plucked from the slums after a fateful night in which Kirigan saw the extent of my abilities. 

“New clothes, l/n?” 

Julian’s words coax an easy smile from me. Always so open, so accepting. Even now he doesn’t pester me about the black kefta. “I barely noticed.” 

My lack of real response earns me a playful glare. “Is that the only explanation I get? Moving up the ranks without me?” 

I roll my eyes. He’s joking, but he’s drawing more eyes to me. “I’m not leaving you, Julian.” He’s been too good a friend for me to leave. “Nothing’s changed except the color of my clothing.” 

“Good.” Julian’s lips twitch upwards, offering me the kind of smile that’s earned him many trysts with many women. “I’d miss you too much.” 

And while I doubt that my disappearance would do anything else than up his popularity, I appreciate the sentiment. “Oh I’m sure you’d find a way to find company.” 

He half laughs, “What are you implying of my virtue?”

Laughing, I roll my eyes as we continue to walk down the halls. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” 

Julian reaches for me, touching my forearm. I stall. “In all seriousness, y/n, I really appreciate your friendship.” 

Aw. Never did I think I’d have so many people to appreciate here. I think of Kirigan, of the vulnerability in his words and the new facet of him I saw last night that I somehow always knew he had in him. He may be a villain, or just one in the making, but he is more than a dark shadow. I find myself releasing I appreciate Kirigan too. It’s different than the way I care about Julian, more fragile, but it’s still a relationship I’ve created here. 

I look down at the space where his hand touches my forearm. “I really appreciate your friendship, too. You’ve gotten me through a lot.”

“You need to give yourself some credit.” He releases my arm, turning to continue to walk forward. 

I turn as well, “You should too.”

 I look forward, and there, in the near distance is Kirigan. He’s staring at me, eyes lacking everything he had earlier. I offer him a small smile. He does not return it, his drops slowly to the ground. Weird. I guess he’s just turning on his indifference for a day of training. He asked me to wear his color, he asked me to come back. 

Does he regret it? Maybe it was a premature request for me to wear his color so publicly. His gaze finds mine again, and with a tilt of his head he gestures for me to follow him.

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper

[arduadastra]

Lost Faith - Part One

A/N ITS FINALLY HERE!! Thank you for the support and I can't believe I wrote this, if you want a part two let me know!

FINALLY updated to this gorgeous header by @sirtadcooper (who you definitely need to follow)

This is set right after the season two finale and is kind of what I imagine Din would be feeling right after he’s handed Grogu off and what it would be like to find him.

Also, the crest didn’t explode ok, I refuse to believe that.

- 2.1K - (what happened?!)

/// Din is alone. He’s been alone most of his adult life. Once he left the convent he’s captured quarries solo for years. He’s used to the quiet solace hyperspace provides, the occasional hums and beeps from the crest console and the sounds of starlight rushing past is nothing more than white noise at this point. So why does it feel different this time? He leans over and flips a switch. He likes quiet, he knows quiet. Talking has never been his strong suit - in fact, he actively avoids it if he can but there’s a tightness in his chest he’s trying to ignore and he needs a fucking distraction before he punches something. After he had handed... to the Jedi he doesn’t really remember much else. Bo Katan had said something about needing to discuss his future and the dark sabre but he hadn’t paid her much thought to be honest. He had felt numb and it just didn’t seem important at the time. He remembers looking at them all and how they looked back at him. He didn’t even really realise why they seemed to stare so much until he accidentally kicked the helmet at his feet. He hadn’t bothered to put it back on. What’s the point? He had barely managed to justify putting it back on after revealing himself for that imperial scanner. Every soul that saw his face after that had died, other than Mayfeld that is. Technically no living being had seen his face so his creed remained unbroken. But this time? Din caught himself staring and at a lever with a certain missing sphere on top. He looked away. His creed. The one thing he held above all else. The thing that he had engrained into him since he was a foundling and what made him who he is: a Mandalorian. Yet, he has met Mandalorian's and they did not cover their face. They had called him different. ’A child of the watch’ Bo-Katan had said - was he even Mandalorian then? The thought cast his eye to his helmet lying discarded next to him. He thought he’d feel bare without it and he did back with the IG unit but now he just feels angry. The creed he abided by is broken now, but that doesn’t piss him off nearly as much as the realisation that it might not have even fucking mattered in the first place. He huffs. No, that’s not it. It is but it isn’t. The pressure in his chest returns and he gasps. “Dank Farrik.” Din clenches his eyes shut against the pain, it’s not like any other pain he’s felt before and he has been hurt a lot. He feels a burning sensation behind his eyelids and he shakes his head, opening his eyes and setting his next coordinates before he can think too hard about why his vision is slightly blurred. ///

It was nearing the end of your shift and you took in the sparse patrons left around you. Bar work wasn’t really what you wanted to do with your life but it’s all you had. No siblings and dead parents made for one lonely existence so you needed the company your customers provided. Drunken patrons tend to have the best stories too. You’ve heard it all over the years: divorced from the wife, hiding from the boss, hiding from the police - those were the best kind. Usually, you could guess why each one was there and why but you were stumped by someone. You had noticed the lone Mandalorian in your bar a while ago. You wouldn’t take a second glance usually but what strikes you is the fact he hasn’t moved in twenty minutes and he’s just been sat staring blankly at his own helmet the whole time. The bar is quiet and you’re the only one working so who gives a shit if you’re polishing the same glass over and over, he’s interesting. You haven’t seen a Mandalorian before let alone one as stoic as him. You’d heard the stories, of course, battle-hardened warriors capable of bringing grown men to their knees in a matter of seconds… Now that's an image. You love people-watching, or thing watching this far out in the rim, and it isn’t often you see humans. Especially ones like him. He seems sad, but not in the obvious moping, crying, shoulder shaking sad - more like he’s grieving. He’s been sat staring at the helmet on the table for a while. His hands are balled into a fist in front of it and it’s like he’s looking through it to the wall behind. His dark eyes have barely blinked and his hair is tousled on his head. He’s tanned too and has the most striking lips you’ve ever seen on a guy. You cock your head as you look at him - he’s hot. You feel bad thinking that when the guy is clearly miserable but he’s gorgeous. You have a thing for stubble and you can’t help but think how it would feel against your skin. And strangely you hate to see him so sad. You have an idea so you turn around and start making your favourite drink while you check on him over your shoulder. After a while, pleased with what you’ve concocted you walk to his table and drop the drink in his line of sight. You smile at him. “On the house.” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t seem to even acknowledge you’ve spoken to him let alone standing two feet to his left. You clear your throat. “That means it's free." He looks up at that, seemingly broken out of whatever trance he was in yet his eyes still seem so far away. “I’m not thirsty.” You nod your head to the table. “Well if you want to keep sitting here, you need something in front of you.” The man looks back at the drink, bumping it with his right fist then stares back ahead. “Ok.” He’s a chatty one. You look back at your bar and around at the other tables, no one seems to need assistance and you’re sure as hell not about to go back to standing behind an empty bar so you take in the Mandalorian and decide to sit across from him. You sigh, “Well the least you can do is have a sip, I made it after all.” The Mandalorian meets your eyes silently then glances down at the drink by his hands. He seems to take a few seconds studying the contents before bringing it to his lips for a drink. You watch him, watch as he drinks from the glass and how it travels down his throat. You see the tendons stretch and his adam apple move as he does. God, how can this guy make drinking sexy? You chide yourself on the thought. This guy is clearly going through something and he doesn’t need some random woman objectifying him. He’s finished now and is actively avoiding your eye line as he looks around himself. He seems lost like he doesn’t know how to have company with him. You decide at that moment that you aren’t leaving this guy alone. “My name is y/n by the way. What’s yours?” Nothing. He’s still not looking at you. You try again. “How was the drink?” The guy must have some form of manners because he responds at that with a slight nod. “Good.” Not much but you’ll take it. You’ve gathered from this short conversation that

this guy isn’t much for small talk so you decide to cut straight to the point. “Who did you lose?” He seems surprised by that. He looks at you fully then and you’re startled by his eyes. The rest of him seems so closed off, so shuttered but his eyes are a dead give away. They swim with grief and pain and it takes your breath away. He doesn’t respond but he keeps looking at you so you take it as permission to keep going. “I know sadness when I see it. See it every day here,” you gesture around you, “but yours seems deeper than that.” He turns away from you and you notice his jaw tense slightly, subtle but you caught it. You’re on the right track at least. “Was it your wife...or husband?” “No.”

Very quick you notice, so not a partner then. “Your friend?” He’s still looking away. Not that then. You look at his face again, he seems older than you. “Your kid?” That gets a reaction. His jaw ticks and his hand's clench. You see his bicep flex at the action and your mind wanders again and just what he looks like under that armour. “Leave me alone." You continue, “What were they like?” He frowns, and looks back at you, “You’re very insistent.” You scoff, “And you barely talk but I don’t judge.” You take a pause then lean forward into his space, “I just know it's useless when people say ’sorry’ or ’that's terrible.’ You know that already. I always found talking about them is more helpful, means there’s someone else out there to remember them.” The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything for a long time. He studies your face, eyes scanning over yours before dropping to your hands that have instinctively reached out towards him. Your fingers are grazing ever so slightly and you think he likes the contact. He leans back slightly in his chair and casts his eyes over your shoulder. “He’s not dead.” You hum, “Ok…” You think, “ ...so he’s missing?” The Mandalorian seems frustrated and shakes his head "Not missing, I mean I don’t know where he is but I - “ He casts his gaze back to you, almost as if he didn’t realise he had been talking, “Why are you asking me this?” You shrug, “Dunno, you just seemed like you needed someone to talk to.” He keeps looking at you. You lean forward more and so does he. Your fingers bump more insistently and you struggle to not rest your hands over his. The energy between the two of you changes ever so slightly, and you feel your hair stand up on end as he stares you down. He’s very intimidating. You like that. Neither of you moves away and the silence between you stretches on. You refuse to speak first because you sort of want to see what his next move is. You get the impression no one stands up to this guy and you want to be the first. He narrows his eyes, his jaw tenses when he speaks coldly, “I don’t need to talk. Go away.” Undeterred you smile at him, flashing him your teeth when you say “Oh I disagree.” He scoffs at that and gets up, leaving the drink you made him and walks out the door. You stand to follow him, grabbing his helmet as you go - how did he forget that? "Hey, we were talking!” you call after him, pushing yourself through the few stragglers still around on the street. He keeps walking, ignoring your yells so you shout louder, “you didn't even finish my drink!" Still nothing, "and you forgot your bucket!" That makes him turn and he sees the helmet under your arm. You walk towards him as he crosses his arms and sighs. He reaches out his hand for it but you hold it out of reach, “ah ah ah, I said we weren’t finished.” He scoffs “I say we have. Give it back.” “Nope.” You say popping the ‘p’ and you smile at him, “Not till you tell me what’s wrong.” He stalks forward and attempts to take the helmet but you’re quicker and sidestep him and cross it over into your other hand, leaning it out of reach again. He growls at that, “I’ll just take it from you.” You dance backwards slightly, “Oh I don’t think you will.” He remains where he is and scowls, “Don’t you have work to finish?” You shake your head, “Nah it's quiet and they’ll all leave now I’m gone. Besides, this is much more fun.” He’s getting annoyed now and gestures towards you, “What? Standing there holding my helmet hostage knowing full well I can just come over there and take it?” He walks forward again, anger now very present on his face - you love that you’ve rattled him. You know it must take a lot to get this guy mad but it seems you’ve done it rather easily. You grin at him, “You’ll have to catch me first.” And with that, you turn and run. ///

If you want to be tagged for part 2 let me know!

Tagged: @darlingotaku @theoriquewitherseld @v-mack @soul-of-daisies @bbwithaknife @luciamajer @altarsw @redredchangesintheskys @thatoneidiot16 @24-blackbirds @dindjarin-mandalorian @engineeredfiction

[jalapeno-princess]

Broken-Hearted Girl

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 8.7K

Summary: After a petty argument escalates into Mark saying some things he didn’t mean, the two of you end up breaking up on your third anniversary. For the rest of the week, you find solace in your family and you learn how to live with a broken heart.

A/N: I don’t even remember how I stumbled upon this song but after listening to and falling in love with one of their other songs “Friend’s Don’t” by Maddie and Tae, I already knew I was going to like this one also. I recommend you listen to it while reading this imagine, the song really does tug on your heartstrings. I’ve been extremely busy for the last few weeks and so I wanted to put a hold on writing (even if just for a few days) but I’ve actually been staying up till the wee hours of the morning (I feel as if I might have insomnia but who knows) and I actually had a really bad mental breakdown earlier, so I needed something to help calm me down and take my mind off of my negative thoughts. Writing is my favorite escape from how cruel this world can be sometimes (although, my writing is literal shit haha) (and i really don’t care for how I ended this and I’m actually kind of unimpressed with this story) but I hope you guys enjoy it! (I have never been in a relationship before so I haven’t experienced the pain of a heartbreak (and I’m sure knowing my sensitive ass I would actually die)

Hey, mama, how do you get a red-wine stain Out of your favorite dress? Black mascara off a pillow case Cure a one-too-many headache Mama, can I come and maybe stay a few days? This weekend or next And hey, how do you get a red-wine stain Out of your favorite dress?

How does he sleep at night? Mama, the nerve of this guy To leave me so easy Am I gonna be alright? I wanna kick myself for fallin' so hard Mama, can you die from a broken heart?

This was not how tonight was supposed to end. Usually, anniversaries were meant to be extremely romantic. They were meant to celebrate the amount of time you’ve been in a relationship with your significant other and to relish in the love that you had for one another; yet here you were, storming out of your boyfriend—well, now ex-boyfriend’s truck towards your apartment with tears streaming down your face. 

You were too focused on getting inside and just collapsing to the ground that you couldn’t even remember how the night ended so terribly. Just a few hours ago, Mark picked you up with the intentions on surprising you for your third anniversary together. 

The two of you practically couldn’t even keep your eyes, let alone your hands off of each other to the point where Mark was just going to say fuck it and show you just how much he loved you and how happy he was to be able to call you the love of his life with his head between your thighs. However, things didn’t go as planned. 

In fact, you had a hard time processing that he told you he planned on spending the rest of his life with you just a few moments before the argument broke out. As soon as you unlocked the door and stumbled inside, you immediately sank to your knees and let out the most heartbreaking cry you didn’t think you were capable of. Not once in your life did you ever cry as much as you were right now. 

Sure, you’ve lost a few loved ones, failed a couple of very important tests here and there and sometimes you and Mark would watch some of the saddest movies every now and then but nothing ever hurt you as much as Mark’s last words did. 

My life would’ve been so much easier if you weren’t in it. 

Each word felt like a stab in your gut. At the time, you knew you said some things that you didn’t mean and that you were sure had a negative effect on him; but nothing you said was even half as bad as hearing him practically say he regrets your entire relationship. 

It made you overthink the last three years of being with him. Mark was in more or less words, the perfect boyfriend. He was quite the gentleman; he always held doors open for you, pushed you on the inside whenever you’d be walking on sidewalks, pulled out chairs for you, always asked how your day was going and if you were eating all your meals on time. 

He knew your coffee order by heart, he’d buy you cute little things he would see that he thought you would like and he even made you a few playlists of songs that reminded him of you. He took care of you as if you were the most delicate little dandelion; but that didn’t mean he wasn’t rough or dominant behind closed doors. 

Mark knew you like the back of his hand. Three years would do that to someone; he knew each and every mole, freckle, beauty and birthmark on your body. He was well aware of the scar on your knee that was shaped like Texas and how you got it from playing football with your cousins. If perfect was a person, it would be him. 

Everyone who knew of him wanted to be his friend. Mark was a social butterfly; he had a tendency to be friendly and kind to whoever he encountered. His golden heart, extremely kind and generous personality was got you to fall in love with him; on top of his indescribable good looks and charismatic charm. After knowing each other for over seven years, you’ve grown accustomed to having Mark in your life. 

Even before the two of you started dating, he was there for almost every milestone in your life. He was there when you got accepted in to the college of your dreams, he was there when you got an internship with a company you’ve been wanting for a long time, he was there for your first time getting drunk at the young age of 16 and he was the one to rub your back as you threw up the following morning. 

With that being said, he was also there during some of the darkest times in your life. When your grandmother passed away from cancer, it felt as if your entire world fell apart. She was your best friend and you were completely devastated as soon as your mom called you and told you the news of her passing. Mark was at baseball practice around the time that you were heading to the hospital, but once he heard of what happened, he wasted no time in making his way to where you were and pulled you in to his chest the moment his eyes landed on your frail figure. 

It took months of grieving, crying over her absence and Mark constantly whispering sweet words of comfort for you to come to terms with her death and you were entirely grateful that you had someone so patient and understanding as Mark was to be there for you during such a traumatic time. What was going to happen now when he was the reason why you were so distraught? 

Losing your grandmother was extremely painful and even after all these years, you weren’t completely over her death. However, knowing that man you loved more than life itself no longer wanted anything to do with you was a different kind of pain. Although there were a few times in your relationship that you and Mark would disagree, not once did a fight escalate this badly before. 

Your relationship was one that everyone around you seemed to envy. Everyone and their mothers knew just how much Mark loved you and it was obvious by your words and actions that you felt the exact same way. His mom always used to tell you that your love was one for the ages; you both cared for one another in ways that only people who were genuinely in love could experience. For two people who’ve been in a relationship for as long as you and Mark have, you were still in the so called “honeymoon stage” where you constantly had to be around each other even if all you did was laze around all day doing nearly nothing. 

Just being in his presence always made you feel so at ease; so serene. Home wasn’t necessarily a place you lived in or just a roof above your head. Home wasn’t just a place that gave you shelter; home was where you felt the safest, the most comfortable and home was where you were happiest. For the last seven years, Mark Tuan was your home and now, you were homeless. You always felt so protected and loved whenever you were around him and you hated every moment spent away from him. 

The more time you spent crying on the floor, the more you came to the realization that tonight’s events actually happened and Mark was no longer your person. Although neither of you actually called it quits, you knew by the tone of his voice and in his facial expression that it was over. Even if he were to come back to you within the week begging you for forgiveness, you don’t think you could ever forget how his words screwed you up mentally and physically. 

When you decided that you had cried all the tears you had in your body and that you were wasting your time crying over someone who couldn’t give less of a shit about you, you got up from your spot right in front of the door and slowly sauntered off in to the kitchen. Anyone who knew you were aware of the fact that you hated alcohol. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker, and you were sure it’s because you spent your teenage years getting high and wasted to the point where it was no longer fun to do now that it was legal. The bottle of red wine that was in the back of your cupboard was a gift from Mark’s friend Jackson for your birthday a couple of months ago and you didn’t want to seem rude by not accepting it since you didn’t care for red wine or just wine in general. 

But now, you were extremely grateful for his choice in gifts and you made it your responsibility to finish the entire bottle in one sitting before you went to sleep. That’s if you could even find it in yourself to even go to bed. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Mark and what he was doing right now; if he regretted what he said, if he knew you were currently suffering and beating yourself up about the argument. 

How could the two of you go from being seconds away to ripping each other’s clothes off, to you drinking imported red wine straight from the bottle to take your mind off of your broken heart? As you continued to drink the wine, it was in that moment of sitting on your kitchen floor and banging your head on your refrigerator that you noticed your front door had a dent in it. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were to go up to it and see that you broke it by how hard you slammed it out of anger, but at this point you didn’t even care. 

Your mind, your heart and your body were so numb that nothing else seemed to matter and if anything, the door represented your mental state and your relationship. Seeing as how you were the definition of a light weight, it didn’t take you long to completely knock out on the hard tile. Although that last sentence continued to replay over and over; taunting you as a painful reminder that you were living your actual nightmare, it was the fact that he gave up on you so easily as if you meant nothing to him that really killed you. 

Was he planning to breakup with you and used this argument to actually go along with it? How long ago did he decide he no longer wanted to be with you? Everything seemed to be going so good for the two of you; so when did he decide he had enough of your relationship? You weren’t surprised when you woke up the next morning with an extremely painful migraine and a crook in your neck. 

This is why you despised any type of alcohol and never understood why Mark and his friends constantly went out to bars whenever they hung out. However, you felt as if this was going to be your way to ease the pain and knowing that alone made you want to cry again. After taking a few moments to process what you were going to do for the rest of the day, you got up to take some pain killers and to look at your current state to see how much of a mess you probably were. 

Almost half an hour later, you found the strength to get up and walked to your bathroom. Your head was throbbing and your bones ached from sleeping on the floor, but nothing hurt even half as much as your heart did. As soon as you saw your reflection, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. You looked horrible. Your hair looked like a bird’s nest; tangled and all over the place. You had mascara stained on your cheeks, your eyes were puffy and if you weren’t so numb, you would’ve screamed at the wine stain in the dress you were wearing; your favorite dress to be exact. 

Mark bought you that dress a couple of months ago because he knew it would look good on you and he was right. The first time you wore it, it didn’t stay on for too long. It was your favorite dress for many reasons; not only did your boyfriend buy it for you, but as someone who was extremely insecure with her body, no matter how many times Mark would make it known how much he loved your body and thought you were the most beautiful and sexiest woman to exist, the dress made you feel beautiful. 

You wore this dress with so much confident but now, it was stained with a deep maroon color right around the chest area and it was a brief representation of the hell you were going through. Like the fool that you were, the fool who was madly in love with the person you wished you could hate right now, you checked your phone to see if he tried to get in touch with you at all and you felt your stomach sink when you saw nothing. 

No texts, no calls, no voicemails, no “I’m sorry, I made a mistake”, no “I love you” or “I miss you.” Couples went through breakups all the time so why did you feel pathetic for something you weren’t at fault for? The rest of the week felt like you were dreaming the same nightmare over and over again. You could still see the anger and rage in his eyes when he told you that you were annoying and that he wasted his night with you when he could’ve gone out with his friends. You were sure there was a chance he was with them right now and you didn’t care at all. 

If he was so quick to let you go without a care in the world, you weren’t going to allow yourself to cry over him no matter how much you wanted to. But you were only human. Three years may not be considered “a long relationship” and you were still kind of young to get married and settle down but you knew Mark was the man you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with. The two of you talked about your futures on multiple occasions and every time Mark would talk about his plans, you were in each one. 

On the fifth day, you came to terms with the idea that it was really over. You tried lying to yourself by thinking that he was going to come back and that he just needed some time to calm down, but you gave up on that idea entirely knowing how Mark could be. Two things about the older boy that you could do without was his pride and how stubborn he could be. 

He tried his best not to show you those sides of him because he didn’t want you thinking negatively of him or being afraid of him; however there were occasions where he would get in to it with one of his friends because he always had to have the last word. With that being said, you knew Mark wasn’t going to give in. He wasn’t going to initiate reconciling with you even if that’s what he wanted because that’s just who he was. 

A week away from work was what you needed to really try and get yourself together again. It wasn’t until your mom called asking how you were doing and if you and Mark wanted to stop by for dinner that you realized you weren’t okay nor were you ready to go out and put on a fake smile while pretending nothing was wrong. When your mom called you, you let her go to voicemail multiple times. 

Although your mom was your best friend and you probably needed someone to be there to comfort you during your heartbreak, you weren’t ready for pity or sympathy. The only person you needed was Jack Daniels. You hated what you had become in less than a weak and you hated that you allowed Mark to have this effect on you. It was only natural for you to be responding to your breakup in this way; you were only human. But you were now a pathetic alcoholic who was wasting her time crying over a man who was no longer in her life. 

Three shots of vodka, two beers and one shot of tequila later and you absentmindedly left a lengthy voicemail to your mom, telling her exactly what happened all the while begging her to let you stay at your parent’s house for a couple of days. Maybe even weeks. Deep down, you knew you needed to be around people no matter how much you enjoyed being alone because your mind always found away to think about Mark. 

You told her how Mark yanked out your heart and stepped on it repeatedly. You told her about getting drunk every single day for the last week, how much you hated him for what he was putting you through and how you hated that you were letting such a stupid boy control your emotions. You also asked her if your dad could come over on one of his days off to take a look at your door. She didn’t take long to respond back to you nor were you surprised when you heard her knocking on your door while she quickly pulled you in to her embrace once you opened it. 

“Oh yeah sweetheart, you really broke your poor door. Come here baby, mama’s got you.” 

She helped you bring your bags to the car and the two of you stayed in silence the entire ride to your parent’s house. You had a feeling she had a few questions she wanted to ask you and that there was a couple of things she wanted to say but you were glad that the only noise in her car was the sound of the air conditioner. You weren’t ready for any kind of human interaction or a conversation you knew would drive you even more crazy. 

All you wanted was for your mom to rock you back and forth like how she used to when you were younger and tell you that everything was going to be okay even if you lost all hope on it being so. When she pulled up to the garage, she told you to stay put so that she could help you get out of your car and you felt like such a child. Out of all your siblings, you were the closest one to your mom and even if you were an adult living on your own with a full time job and everything, you were always going to be her little girl. 

Seeing your child cry was always painful for a mother, but because the reason behind your sadness was something out of her control, she felt like she couldn’t do anything but console you and get you whatever you needed to try and make you feel better. Once you made it inside of the house, she led you to your old bedroom and let you get settled in so that she could prepare you something to eat. You didn’t have the heart to tell her you weren’t all that hungry; you haven’t had much of an appetite in the last week and you were sure she noticed your sudden weight loss. 

A part of you wanted to ask her to forget about it, especially because being in your old room brought back so many memories of Mark and how he would sneak in on school nights and how the two of you would stay up talking about anything your hearts desired. Being alone wasn’t something you’d think you’d ever get used to, especially because Mark was like your shadow. Wherever you went, Mark followed and unlike most people who would probably complain about his clinginess, you enjoyed it profusely. 

Knowing that Mark always craved your presence and needed to be around you to maintain his sanity made your heart flutter. This has been the longest you had to be without him and every day felt like an entire month. It’s as if time went by frustratingly slow because the universe was aware of your heartbreak and wanted to make you suffer for whatever reason you were unsure of. 

Taking a look around your old bedroom, you could feel your chest grow heavy when you saw the few pictures you had of you and Mark from when you were growing up and tears were soon building up at your eyes. The two of you looked so happy together; you were just a couple of kids who dreamt about so many wonderful things that life had to offer. Little did either of you know that one day, you would fall in love with one another before you could even comprehend the meaning behind that silly four letter word. 

You silently cursed to yourself for getting all worked up again; you came to your parent’s house as a way to heal on your own and to surround yourself with people who love you and care about your well-being. You just needed to have some kind of support system or else you’d drive yourself crazy back at your apartment thinking about what you could’ve done to have prevented the breakup from happening. The gentle knock on your door took you by surprise and you almost ended up dropping the frame. 

She released a long sigh before she walked over toward you and took the picture from out of your hands. The last thing your mom wanted to do was to make you even more upset by saying something to trigger you or cause you to overthink. But she couldn’t handle seeing you so broken; so defeated especially because you were an actual ray of sunshine. Your smile alone could light up an entire room and your personality was so bright and bubbly, people enjoyed your company because of your enthusiasm. 

As much as your mom liked Mark to the point where she would secretly plan out your future wedding with his mom whenever they’d go out to lunch together, she wanted to find him and make him regret what he did to her baby girl. She was shocked to say the least when she got your voicemail and at first, she couldn’t even understand what you were saying because your speech was so slurred and she couldn’t hear a word you were saying through your tears. Mark made it known to his surroundings that you were his entire world and all he cared about was making sure you were well taken cared of and that you were happy, healthy and got everything you deserved. You were so agitated just by seeing his photo and you wanted to scream. 

He was probably already over the entire thing and although it killed you to think like this, you couldn’t help but feel as if he was already looking for someone new. Why else would he have left you so easily? There must’ve been someone on the side but who were you kidding? That man planned an entire night out for you; to celebrate your life together. Your mind came up with all these different reasons for the breakup so you could get some closure but you weren’t stupid. You knew Mark loved you, you just couldn’t find a reason why he would tell you he regrets your relationship and wishes he never met you. 

You despised yourself for trusting Mark with your entire being; for allowing him to see each and every part of you. The good, the bad, the ugly. You hated that he was the only man you’ve ever loved with your entire physical, mental and spiritual being. You were upset with yourself for falling so hard for him and giving him the control to do such a thing to your heart. The feeling of being in your mom’s arms again after moving out almost two years ago was extremely comforting and very calming. 

She ran her fingers through your hair and continued to stay silent and waited until you stopped crying completely before telling you exactly what was on her mind. After your sobs slowly died down, she tapped on your forehead to get your attention. 

“Sweetheart, have I ever told you the story of when your father left me back when we were in college?” 

You shook your head in disagreement but widened your eyes in shock at her revelation. From what you were told, your parents were college sweethearts. Your dad fell in love with her when one of their mutual friends asked him to pick her up from work once and he was extremely grateful that their car was in the shop at that time or else he would have never met his soulmate. 

They’ve been together for over twenty years and not once have you heard this story, but now you were heavily interested. You always loved hearing stories about your parents relationship; it gave you high hopes for your own relationship and since you were going through a breakup right now, you could only hope the story would lift up your spirits. 

“We were together for only three months at the time and it was the first relationship I had where I genuinely cared for him. He was so kind, so flirtatious and used the cheesiest pickup lines to make me laugh. I knew he was going to be someone special in my life. Unfortunately, at the time your dad was the only one in his group of friends that was in a relationship. They told him that being in a relationship was “lame” and that he was still so young to be wasting his time being tied down to one girl. He tried to defend and fight for our relationship, but his friends continued to pester him over it, so he broke up with me. I was devastated, I cried for hours on end and couldn’t eat anything. But he showed up only three days later with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a bucket of fried chicken. He told me he loved me and refused to be without me. It was quire romantic if you ask me.” 

You giggled at the idea of your dad asking your mom to take him back with some Popeyes. You were upset to hear that your dad’s friends coerced him in to breaking up with her. However, you were happy to hear that it didn’t take too long for him to realize your mom was it for him.

“He’ll be back y/n. I know he will. That boy—he loves you. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, I can tell in his actions and with the way he looks at you that he’s head over heels in love with you. His mom also mentioned it a couple times; he’s—what is that word kids your age use these days? Whipped for you? She said he has stars in his eyes whenever you come up in conversation. It’s serious when a boy talks about you to his momma. One day when the two of you are married with a family of your own, you’ll look back on this little bump in the road and laugh—“

“Please don’t say that. You didn’t see the way he looked at me when he told me all of those hurtful things. It didn’t even feel like he was my boyfriend, it was as if I was looking at a stranger. It makes me wonder, did he ever really love me if he had no problem leaving me?”

“I’m serious y/n. I don’t know what things were said that night or how things ended up the way they did, but when it’s real, when it’s love, you just know. He probably looks just as bad and if not worse than you do. I know it hurts. Breakups are rough, especially because it’s obvious you and Mark were made for one another. But what have I always told you? If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, then it’s yours forever and if it doesn’t, well baby, it just simply wasn’t meant to be. He was probably just in the heat of the moment and said some things he probably didn’t mean. I’m sure he’s regretting this entire thing. Mark’s a smart boy; if he knows what’s best for him, he’ll be yours again in no time. Until then, get out of this funk y/n. There’s so many wonderful things in the world to do and to be grateful for. Do you really want to look back on your twenties and regret wasting your time crying over a boy when you could be doing so many different activities and go on so many adventures?”

You released a frustrated sigh and shook your head again. She was right. You were tired of crying and drinking so much. There was only so much alcohol your body could handle and it wasn’t worth all the hangovers. 

“Maybe we should tell your dad what happened so he can mess around with him a little bit and teach him a lesson.”

The idea and the way your mom said it made you let out a genuine laugh. Your parents were always so protective over you and it was probably because you were so kind-hearted that people tended to take advantage of how polite you could be. However, even if she meant it as a joke, you were nervous at what your dad would do if he found out about what Mark said to you and how the breakup was slowly killing you. You were a daddy’s girl and your dad never failed to do anything to make you smile; even if it meant scaring your ex-boyfriend which you knew you didn’t want him doing. 

Your mom stayed with you for a few hours until it was timed for her to make dinner and you ended up falling asleep because of how mentally exhausted you were. No matter how much your mom loved it whenever you stayed over, she didn’t want you to get used to running away from your problems and hiding when things got too difficult. She wanted you to learn to live without him on your own. Your mom knew that you were going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but one day you would heal from this entire situation and realize that your breakup was a learning experience. 

Plus, you had to return back to work sooner or later or you would lose your job completely. A cloud of sadness came once your dad pulled up to your apartment complex and they offered to walk you to your door but you weren’t sure if you’d allow them to leave if they did. They both pulled you in for hugs as they said their goodbyes and you actually cried as you watched them drive away. Why did life have to be so complicated? You were so unhappy to the point where you thought you would actually die from a broken heart. 

The aspect of dying from a broken heart was extremely devastating; you’ve heard about it on multiple occasions. It was normal for people to be so sad, so distraught and have no energy or motivation to do anything. They wouldn’t eat, sleep and only spend most of their days crying out what was left of their hearts. You didn’t think going through a breakup would cause this much damage to you and your well-being; but contrary to what your mom told you, Mark wasn’t just any boy. He was the owner of your heart and you understood that he could torment you like this because you allowed him to. 

You stopped by the mailbox to see if you got anything before heading up to your apartment. When your parents were driving you back to your place, you decided that you would actually get up and do something today. Whether it was tidying up your place from how messy it had become from your one too many drunken stupors, or going to the cleaners to get that wine stain out of your dress. As you began to approach your unit, you noticed there was something sitting right in front of your door. 

The closer you got, you realized that it wasn’t just something, it was someone. Your heart felt as if it was about to jump out of your chest when you realized exactly who the person was slumped up against the wall. It was exactly a week since your fight and you weren’t sure if it was what your mom had said about your love and how beautiful it was, or because you were miserable without him but you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and beg him to come back to you. 

You expected to be angry if you were to see him again because of all the trauma you suffered through; yet seeing him tugged on your heartstrings and it was as if you pushed the entirety of the last week to the back of your mind. When Mark heard footsteps coming towards him and he looked up to see who it was, he had to hold himself back from running towards you. Your mom was right, just like she normally was. 

This week was one of the worst weeks of his entire life. He was suffering without you. He never hated himself more than he did when he said all those things and he hated himself even more for not running after you as soon as those spiteful words fell from his mouth. You were the best thing that has ever happened to him, and if things were to end up differently that night, he would’ve been able to show you exactly what you meant to him in more ways than one. 

He wanted to call you, to text you and to tell you how stupid he was and how he didn’t mean a single word that he said to you but words were never his forte. Nor did he want to give up his pride even if it meant preventing this last week from ever happening. It was all his fault, or so he kept telling himself and he couldn’t go one more day without you in his life. It was too much for his heart to withstand. 

He was going to do everything in his power to get you to forgive him, even if it meant having to stay away from you for a little while longer for you to completely heal from this experience. As soon as he drove away from your apartment that night, he knew he fucked up and accidentally punched a hole in his wall out of anger. He was so selfish; so insensitive and didn’t think that his harsh words would have any negative effect on you. 

After hearing your little jabs at him, he wanted to hit you where it hurt the most but if he knew then what he knew now, he would’ve kept his mouth shut and just dropped you home so that you both could calm down and not say everything you both said to one another. You let out a deep breath and tried to prepare your heart to hear why he was there and to be ready to fight if the situation called for it. 

“Hey.” 

You looked up at him and you could feel tears brimming at your eyelids. He looked so tired and you knew for a fact that he must’ve cried with how his eyes practically mirrored the puffiness of yours. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent and his face looked smaller than it already was. It made you cringe; Mark was never one to portray himself as someone weak or someone who had feelings and emoted whenever something was up with him. If he had a problem, he’d deal with it on his own and this was no different. 

Good. He deserved to have suffered as much as you did. 

“Hi. How long have you been here for?” He shrugged before scratching the back of his head; something he normally did when he felt like he was in the wrong or whenever he was embarrassed and you took it as the former. 

“Um—since Wednesday I think.” 

Your eyes widened in shock at his answer. Wednesday? So that means he was sitting outside of your apartment for the last three days? 

“Wait, you’ve been here for three days? Are you crazy? Mark, you could’ve gotten sick! It’s cold out here! And what about food? Have you even been eating? You look so malnourished, why would you—“

“You and I both know why. I fucked up. Big time. It took me a while to think about it at this perspective because I was just so mad and I wanted to blame you for the way things ended that night but I came to the conclusion that this was my fault. I’m the one who fucked up something so amazing, so beautiful and so perfect because I was a fucking asshole y/n and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

In order to prevent wandering eyes of your neighbors, you opened the door and motioned for him to walk inside so that the two of you could have your privacy. 

“Shit y/n, what happened to your door? You have to practically force it open—“

“You don’t want to know. My dad is supposed to come over this weekend to try and fix it. I think the hinges must’ve came out or something. Can I get you something to eat? Drink?” 

He shook his head and you could see in your peripheral vision that he was hesitatingly reaching out for your hand, probably in attempts to bring you to the couch so he could continue the conversation from where the two of you began from but he just walked over to the living room and took a seat. You wanted to hear everything he had to say and you were going to make it a point to let him know what this breakup did to you. 

His focus was on the multiple empty bottles of alcohol sitting on your coffee table and because he was well aware of how much you hated alcohol, it was apparent that you must’ve had it really rough if you felt the need to turn to alcohol for solace. When he felt like he was ready to talk, he turned around to face you and released an exasperated sigh. 

“I’m sorry it took so long to come here—oh, these are for you. I actually had to go back to the store because the first two bouquets actually died probably because they weren’t being watered and I bought your favorite cookies—but I got hungry so there’s only three left.” 

He handed you the beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and you giggled at the sight of only three cookies in a big container but it made you smile nonetheless. 

How romantic. 

You politely thanked him and placed both of the gifts down on the table before speaking up. 

“You should’ve called me, I wouldn’t allow you to have waited out here for me. Are you crazy Mark? What if something happened to you—“

“Then so be it. I’d probably deserve it. Fuck, you don’t understand how much of a mess I was without you and how much I’ve been suffering because the image of your pained face would not leave my mind once this entire weekend. I had a feeling you weren’t home when you weren’t answering the door but then again, you could’ve looked through the peephole and decided you wanted nothing to do with me and I wouldn’t have blamed you. The old lady next door was kind enough to offer me some food here and there but I’m sure she probably thought I was a thief or something when she first saw me. I should’ve called but you and I both know why I didn’t. I kinda wanted to give you your space because I’m sure what I said probably got under your skin. I ruined our special day and I’m sorry if I broke your heart—with the way you’re looking at me I’m sure I hurt you pretty badly huh.” 

You looked up at him with a melancholic look in your eyes; that had to be the understatement of the year. If you didn’t have your family around to help you take your mind off of your failed relationship, you were sure you would have ended up in the hospital sooner or later. 

“You broke me Mark. You made me feel like I was worthless. You made me think there was someone else or that you fell out of love with me and I genuinely wanted to die. Pathetic right? I just—I didn’t know how to function without you and waking up every morning felt like a chore. At some points I felt like I couldn’t even breathe. I’ve heard heartbreaks caused by breakups were an unfathomable pain that are impossible to bounce back from and some people even die from a broken heart I just never would’ve thought it would happen to me. Especially because we were so happy; so in love and I would have never thought one stupid, meaningless argument could cause us to separate. You made it seem like leaving me was so easy and hearing that you wished that we never dated in the first place is what truly fucked me over. I became a fucking alcoholic because of you—I blamed the entire breakup on myself even if I didn’t say anything that I knew would inflict any sort of pain to you because the idea of hurting you hurts me. It’s sad to know you don’t feel that way.”

“That’s where you’re wrong y/n. I regretted everything that I said as soon as I said them but the damage was already done. Please believe me when I say this, I didn’t mean a fucking word. That was just the anger and the irritation talking for me. My life before you always felt so empty, and once you came in to it, you made everything so much better. You filled my life with color and made my heart soar by just the mere thought of you. I could never regret you or our relationship; you’re all I could ever want or need in this hell forsaken world. You know the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you—“

“BUT YOU DID MARK.” 

You didn’t mean to yell, but it was all the built up emotions you’ve been holding in that finally released itself and you knew you wouldn’t be able to forget the way he shivered at your tone. Not once in the many years of knowing you did Mark ever see you so mad. You were always such a shy and introverted person; he didn’t think you were capable of such an intonation. He hated that he was the reason for your hostility and he was afraid that it was too late. It may have only been a week, but what you went through was enough to change your warm-hearted personality in to a cold and aggressive one. 

“Nothing will ever change the fact that you gave up on us—on me. If you knew there was a chance that your words would affect me the way that they did, then you wouldn’t have said anything at all; but you said it all without hesitation like you did mean it. I was coming to accept our breakup for what it was. Sure I was hoping you would come back; hell this is the closest I ever felt to God because I found myself praying every single day for him to show me a sign. For him to heal me and make it known that I would be okay. I’d be lying if I said I’m not the least bit content that you’re here but—I really don’t know what to make of that.” 

To your surprise, he made his way toward you and reached for your hands. As intimidated he was by how you were acting towards him, he knew he had to grow some balls and man up, or he would lose you forever and the tiny box that was in his pocket would no longer have any use. 

“I don’t know what to say or do that would explain how sorry I am and how much I wish I could go back in time and prevent any of this from happening. I don’t know how to stop you from hurting, and to get you to forgive me—I‘ll do anything to fix this y/n. Please—tell me what to do. I can’t—I can’t lose you. Tell me you don’t love me, and then I’ll—I’ll—fuck, there’s no way I can let you go. Please baby—you asked God for a sign and I came here tonight to try and fix my mistakes. That has to mean something right?” 

Hearing him sound so desperate, so willing to do whatever you wanted him to in order to bring your relationship back to what it was made you feel so many emotions. As much as you wanted him to give you some time to think, you knew you’d take him back. It was going to take some time to forgive him, and to get his words out of your mind completely, but Mark was everything you ever wanted for the rest of your life. 

Why were you going to continue suffering on your own and staying away from him when all you wanted was to have him back in your life? You cupped his cheek softly with your palm and placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Feeling him smile against your lips sent a fire through your veins; Mark’s kisses always had quite the effect on you. His lips were so pink and so pretty and you loved every single moment that they were pressed against yours. 

“You can start by paying for my dry cleaning. I got a huge wine stain on the dress I was wearing because I got drunk.” He giggled in to your neck before placing a chaste kiss there. 

“Done. You silly girl. God, I missed you so much baby. I also think I have something that could win me some brownie points but I hope tonight ends the way last week should have.” 

The question of what he was referring to was at the tip of your tongue, but before you could emit anything, he was now kneeling on the ground right in front of you and pulled out a red box. Your heart began to race on a you put two and two together; he was going to propose to you. 

“I know, this is probably not how you wanted this to happen and I promise you I had different ways in mind on doing this—but after losing you, I realized that it didn’t matter how, where or when I would ask you to spend the rest of your life with me; all that matters is that I did. I was actually planning on proposing you at the beach once we were finished eating, but I chickened out like the coward that I am. And I guess I was irritated with myself and took it out on you that night and I know I said it so many times, but I will continue apologizing until I make up for all the pain I’ve put you through. I’m sorry y/n. I don’t deserve you—I don’t deserve being able to do this right now but this last week without you made me realize that I can’t live if I have to do it without you.” 

He grazed your wrist with his thumb and you were sure he did that to calm down his nerves, but it was so cute. You loved seeing him so flustered and so nervous and you loved knowing that you were the reason behind his now shy demeanor. 

“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can remember. Every time I would drop you back home once we hung out back in high school, I felt this emptiness in my chest. Then I realized how much I loved hearing you laugh knowing that I was the reason behind it. I loved spending time with you and being around you. I loved the feeling I got whenever we were together. You and I can literally do nothing but I’m my happiest when I’m with you and that’s when I realized you were more than just a friend to me. These last few years with you have made me the happiest man alive. You mean everything to me baby—I wish I would’ve told you this sooner so we wouldn’t have wasted time apart but I’ll make up for it the rest of my life—if you let me of course. I’ll take good care of you my love. I’ll continue to love you and give you the world on a silver platter. Y/n, will you do me the greatest honor and marry me?” 

You were sure if someone else were in your shoes, they probably would’ve said no right off the bat. Heartbreak really did change a person. It made your whole aspect on life change for the worse and you knew you weren’t the same person you were a week ago. But you’ve dreamt about this situation on many accounts. There were times where you’d sleep over Mark’s place and you’d stay up looking at him in admiration and thinking about what your future together would look like. 

Sure, you would have preferred this surprise before all the unfortunate events that happened, but you were excited and speechless nonetheless. You sank to your knees and sat down on his lap; bringing your hands up to his face and pulling his lips up to yours. You couldn’t help the snicker that fell from the back of your throat when you felt a tear fall from his eyes on to your cheek. His hands were tight on your waist as he deepened the kiss, licking and sucking on your lips before all but gently shoving his tongue in between your teeth. When you felt his excitement pressing against your core, you pulled away and ignored the choked out whine that fell from his lips as you placed your forehead against his. 

“Yes. I would love to marry you Mark. I love you so much, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Thank you for coming back to me love.” 

The way he was looking up at you pulled on your heartstrings; you couldn’t wait to tell your mom of the news. You knew she would probably hit you with “I told you so” but she would also be extremely happy for you. He abruptly stood up and took you with him, wrapping your thighs around his waist. You knew exactly what his plans were as he made his way to your room and you were excited to say the least at what he was going to do with you.

Once the two of you entered the bedroom, he didn’t waste anytime throwing you on to the bed and attacking your face with kisses as he ran his hands along your body; needing to touch you everywhere. Right as he began dragging his fingers along your clothed heat, he gripped at your chin and made sure you were making direct eye contact with him. 

“You know, since your door is already broken, I don’t see any problem in breaking your bed also—ow! What? You’re going to be my wife one day soon, so it’s only natural for me to want to fuck the living shit out of you in celebration of our engagement—I’m actually starting to reconsider this whole marriage thing. Give me back that ring, I’m gonna go sell it and buy me the PS5–“

“You wouldn’t dare Tuan, I’ll end you—“

“Just shut up and let me love you damnit.” 

You couldn’t stop the laughter that came after his little complaint. You still had yet to process that Mark was currently on top of you, ready to make love to you and to show you just how much he missed you. He playfully poked your cheek to break you out of your trance and squeezed your butt as a force of habit. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I’m just really happy, that’s all.”

 He gave you his signature cheeky grin and left a long, sloppy kiss on your lips. 

“Good. That makes the two of us, and that’s the only emotion you’re going to feel now that you’re stuck with me. Now, let’s make up for lost time shall we?”

Can you ask daddy if he's got time To come and look at my front door? It got slammed last night And now it don't close right And just promise that you won't tell him everything And keep that pistol in the drawer Mama, please don't say I'm gonna laugh about this someday You didn't see the way he drove away

How does he sleep at night? Mama, the nerve of this guy To leave me so easy Am I gonna be alright? I wanna kick myself for fallin' so hard Mama, can you die from a broken heart? Oh, a broken heart

Can your knees give out from prayin' so hard? (Prayin' so hard) Can you go blind from cryin' in the dark? (In the dark) Was it ever really real If he don't feel like I feel?

How does he sleep at night? Mama, the nerve of this guy To leave me so easy Am I gonna be alright?

How does he sleep at night? Mama, the nerve of this guy To leave me so easy Am I gonna be alright? I wanna kick myself for fallin' so hard Mama, can you die from a broken heart? A broken heart

[potatocrab]

father’s daughter

Butch and Rosie; two stubborn kids who don't know how to communicate with each other—sparks are bound to fly. Just two lonely hearted people that were forced to grow up before they were ready.

After an unsettling argument, Butch relies on old vices to get him by. When he returns to the Megaton homestead, he finds that Rosie has been suffering in silence. Now, he's determined to reconcile their differences and help her grieve over a painful past.

x - x

*Set somewhat immediately after Loose Lips with direct references to that work and Whiskey and Rain.* 

Butch DeLoria x Rosie Sheridan (Lone Wanderer)

5895 words | [read on Ao3]

Drinking was a mistake.

Butch only seemed to come to that conclusion too little, too late—always way after the alcohol started weighing his stomach down, and the pleasant burn down his throat turned fowl. He should know better, shouldn’t he? Liquor was evil and the inventor of beer was a cruel mistress. Butch had to remind himself he only called it that because Rosie had taught him about the history of his ‘favorite poison’ as some form of torture while he recovered from a hangover one bright and sunny morning.

Served him right for what he put her through after getting sloshed at Moriarty’s. He couldn’t get a straight answer from her (or Gob, for that matter) on his actions from that evening, but considering who he was, and his track record, there was a probability he either did something or said something stupid. Probably a combination of the two. His only solace was that Rosie didn’t completely ice him out, insisting to drop the subject of his missing memories with the promise he cut back on his vices.

That’s where Butch messed up—again.

Instead of agreeing, he pushed back, digging and prodding for information that she wasn’t willing to provide. Their discussion spiraled into a heated argument before dissolving into bickering, reminiscent of their childhood in the vault. They were two stubborn kids who didn’t know how to communicate with each other—sparks were bound to fly. And so, she ran off to Moira’s to pout in private and he sulked away to the only place he could find comfort—the bar.

He drowned his sorrows, wishing for a different kind of spark between he and Rosie. He’d already been carrying around a flame for her, a fact he was just barely coming to terms with. It wasn’t something worth sharing and ruining a friendship over—not when he couldn’t even manage that. Butch stayed at Moriarty’s all evening—again—until Gob kicked him to the metal wayside.

He tried to continue his wallowing at the Brass Lantern, but all Leo would give him was a can of purified water, insisting he drink it to sober up if he was heading home. The implication nearly sent Butch to the Megaton common house instead—he didn’t deserve to call Rosie’s place that, not when he was still acting like an idiot who hadn’t learned anything since leaving Vault 101 behind. It was that idiocy—mixed with some drunken bravery—that made Butch decide he couldn’t hide away forever. After chugging down another can of water and using the restaurant’s facilities (nearly puking at the pungent, chemical smell of Abraxo), he headed up the rafters and right to Rosie’s front door.

The lights were off, which meant she was either asleep, or had crashed at Moira’s. Butch wasn’t sure which was worse. He either had to be sneaky, or deal with the repercussions of making her feel so uncomfortable that she didn’t feel welcome in her own home. He pushed open the unlocked door as quietly as he could manage, opting for stealth as he slid inside. The house was quiet—but all Butch could focus on was the dull throb at the base of his skull, hoping the sound of his footsteps against the staircase weren’t as loud as he imagined.

At least he managed to keep his balance all the way to the second-floor landing, releasing a deep breath he didn’t notice he’d been holding. All he wanted was to fall face-first into his bed and sleep the terrible day away. Just as Butch leaned against the doorway to his room to call it a night, he noticed the faint glow of a Pip-Boy light coming from Rosie’s bedroom. So she was home. The question now was, what was she doing? Maybe it would be better if he left her alone, but Butch was tipsy, and curious—especially when he heard the click of a holodisk through the slightly ajar door.

“I don’t want you to follow me.”

Hey! Butch perked up when he heard her old man’s voice. What was she doing listening to tapes from her dad, and why was she doing it in the dark?

“God knows life in the Vault isn’t perfect, but at least you’ll be safe. Just knowing that will be enough to keep me going.”

Butch frowned, finally registering that he was listening to Doc Sheridan’s last recording before he abandoned Vault 101—before he abandoned Rosie. At first he felt angry. Butch had to deal with the fallout of the doctor’s choices and had seen the pain caused to those he left behind—even if Rosie never talked about her father, or his death.

“Goodbye, Rosemary. Darling.” Shit—was she crying? He could definitely hear her sniffling. “I love you.”

That’s when Butch realized he was intruding—this was not meant for his ears. He took a step back, trying to slip into his room undetected. His boot knocked the door with a bang while the metal floorboards creaked beneath his clumsy movements. There was no recovering from that. He winced, clenching his teeth as he heard Rosie’s alarmed gasp, stuck to the spot just listening to the faint shuffling on the other side of the door.

“Butch?” she hushed, the light shining in the direction of the hallway. “I—is that you?”

Damnit. He sighed, slumping forward. The jig was up, and now his mind was racing with all the possibilities of how he could manage to sweet-talk his way out of the situation. Make it not look at bad as it seemed—like he wasn’t eavesdropping, or that he hadn’t just spent the last several hours knocking back stale beer and whiskey.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh.”

Well that wasn’t very reassuring. Butch couldn’t tell if she sounded disappointed, or surprised. Or just sad. He swallowed the lump in his throat, deciding to inch closer to the doorway, pushing one hand through the gap and wiggling his fingers in a wave.

“See?” he called, waiting a few beats before poking his head inside.

Rosie was sitting on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, one thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders to combat the winter chill. In front of her was a spread of holodisks and other belongings—hard to tell when the only light was coming from her discarded Pip-Boy on the nightstand. But it was fairly obvious that she had been subjecting herself to some kind of melancholy trip down memory lane, something that Butch felt he was too inadequate and too inebriated to deal with. Still, he wasn’t about to just…leave her alone.

“Want some company?”

He was sure she was going to tell him to get lost, but she nodded, moving the tapes to the side so they were almost out of view. “Okay.”

Even with her whispered approval, he hesitated in the doorway, hating that he wasn’t as sober as he wanted to be, and probably smelled like a Brahmin’s backside. Or worse. Eventually, he made it to her bedside, rubbing the back of his neck as a nervous flutter of warmth radiated through his chest. She generally didn’t let him into the privacy sanctuary of her room and now he was inches away from where she slept. He’d feel more excited about the situation if his mind wasn’t so cloudy.

Rosie stared up at him with a disappointed frown. “You’ve been drinking.”

Butch gulped, trying to ignore the lingering taste of alcohol on the back of his tongue. Maybe it would’ve been better if he stopped for a smoke on the rafters before sneaking back there, or maybe that would’ve just added more fuel to the fire—he was supposed to cut back on that too. He slowly blinked, realizing the silence had stretched on too long for him to lie.

“N—yeah,” he said with a defeated sigh.

More awkward silence. He eyed the space she’d cleared. Was it meant for him? No time to be presumptuous—that’s usually when he made a total ass of himself. Rosie followed his line of sight and nodded, saying nothing else. Butch took the hint to sit down on the edge of the mattress, leaving enough space between them so she wouldn’t feel crowded. Even so, she shifted her legs away, adjusting the blanket so it was tight around her shoulders, almost like she was guarding herself from him. It was hard not to take it personally, but if Rosie didn’t want him there, she would say so. Right?

Ugh. He was too drunk to deal with this level of confusion and self-doubt. What he needed was an appropriate conversation topic that wouldn’t make her more upset. Butch nervously drummed his fingers against his knees as he glanced around her darkened room, before suddenly noticing there was something missing.

“Hey, where’s Dogmeat?” he asked. He thought about how there was no robotic voice to greet him when he returned to the house. “Or Worthy?”

“Moira offered to run Wadsworth’s maintenance routine so she could study his specifications,” she explained with a small shrug. “I left Dogmeat at the shop too, so it would be quiet. So I could be alone,” she avoided his stare. “I didn’t think you’d be coming back tonight.”

“Where else was I supposed to go?” Butch felt a little offended, frowning at her. “Common house was full—” A lie, but she didn’t need to know that, not when he was after sympathy points. “Don’t exactly have the caps to crash at the Saloon, ya’ know.”

Rosie regarded him with an annoyed expression, and he bit his tongue, already regretting what he’d said. “Plenty of caps to spend on the booze, though.”

“I’m sure you’re friendly enough with the girls there, maybe you wouldn’t need to—” she stopped herself short, pursing her lips as her face flushed pink with color. She turned away again.

Butch’s head was clear enough to catch her insinuation, and he didn’t care for it. He could deal with being called a drunk, but he wasn’t some manwhore, sleeping around with any available gal in the Wasteland. Those days were long behind him, especially now that he was with Rosie. Not with Rosie—not in that way.

What was with her, anyways? She’d been acting strangely lately; more flighty than usual, and more emotionally and physically guarded. A weird and worrisome setback after the trust-building they’d done in with their friendship. Rosie had been her usual, anxious self when they were hunkered down in that rainstorm a few weeks ago, albeit with a few mixed signals that had him thinking she wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her. He decided to blame it on the whiskey and her head-cold instead.

But then he woke up one morning, face-down in his pillow with a pounding headache and Rosie’s cold shoulder. She still nursed him through his hangover, showing a reserved kindness with her bedside manner as he suffered through a stomach bug the following few days. No more of Moriarty’s moonshine, she ‘prescribed’, written down on a piece of paper that was taped to his Pip-Boy. A whole week passed of them tip-toing around each other, Butch struggling to comprehend what he’d done wrong. When he asked, Rosie skirted the issue, but he just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. He stirred the pot until it blew up in his face.  

And now? Now they were here, back at what felt like square one.

Butch groaned, smacking his hand to his face as he tugged his fingers through the front of his hair. They really needed to stop running around in circles like idiots. No more falling back into old habits and old traits like they were still stuck underground and under the thumb of the Overseer. Didn’t they agree to a fresh start? Maybe that’s where the problem was. Nineteen years of rivalry didn’t just disappear with a simple apology and a handshake. The two never really talked about their past lives in Vault 101, like drudging up the past would make things between them more complicated than it needed to be. Seeing Rosie now, curled up on her bed, still teary-eyed from crying over the phantom voice of her dead dad made Butch realize that leaving the past behind and building walls never did any good.

He’d felt guilty before, but the knot in the pit of his stomach was a completely different level of regret. Now that they had a relationship—a friendship—he was desperate to keep it that way. Even if it meant pushing down the other, more intense feelings that had blossomed in his heart. It didn’t matter if he thought that maybe, just maybe, Rosie might feel the same way—he’d do anything to mend their broken bonds.

Rosie suddenly moved, leaning forward as she spoke. “I—I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey, no—” he interrupted, shaking his head. Butch turned towards her, scooting so he was sitting on the bed more comfortably. “You don’t need to apologize, Rosie. I do. I’m sorry. Acting like an ass, doin’ things I said I wouldn’t, and pickin’ fights with the only friend I got left in the Wasteland.”

He hesitated on that last part, heart aching within his chest. “We’re still friends, right?”

She nodded, the tiniest of smiles pulling at her lips. “Yes, Butch.”

“Phew,” he sighed, trying to inject some humor into the tense moment. He hated when things got too serious, even when it was necessary. “I really mean it. I don’t wanna keep fuckin’ up like this, backsliding into the jerk you hated growing up.”

He clenched his fingers into a fist before very carefully reaching over to tap her knee. She glanced at where his hand rested but didn’t flinch away.

“You’re all I got, ya’ know?” the words sounded familiar as he spoke them, but he wasn’t sure why.

Rosie’s eyes widened a little, and then, her smile increased—just barely. “Yes. Of course. Who else would take care of a sad sack like you?”

Butch pursed his lips, confused as to why that sounded familiar too. She rested her hand over his for a moment, giving it a light squeeze before flipping it over and sliding her fingers up his wrist to the latch of his Pip-Boy. He watched her movements, finding a strange sort of intimacy to her removing the device and glove for him, as if he wasn’t perfectly capable of doing so himself.

“My apology stands,” she sighed, resting the Pip-Boy on the nightstand next to hers. The light wavered, drowning them both in an eerie, muted glow. “I—I’ve been harsh on you, making demands when I should’ve been more patient.”

“I deserve it,” he replied. He wanted to put his hand back on her knee, wanted any excuse to touch her again, but held back, plucking at a loose strand on his jeans. “Hey, so uh…the other night…”

He trailed, anxious about bringing up the topic that had set off this chain of events in the first place. Rosie blinked at him and said nothing.

“I just—” he tugged at his shirt collar, wondering why he felt so hot. Was that a normal sign of intoxication? “Ya’ got me worried that I did somethin’ really stupid, like…” he trailed off, flicking his gaze away from her face, focusing instead on the way her fingers were twisting around the hem of her blanket. “I didn’t try to hurt you, or—”

“What?” Rosie said, alarmed. She shook her head in earnest. “No! Nothing like…that.”

As intense as she sounded, her words did little to reassure him. Butch continued to pout, wondering if she’d lie to him to spare his feelings. Then again, Rosie wasn’t exactly the best at fibbing, and had the worst poker face. She seemed to notice his skepticism.

“You…asked me to stay with you, so I did,” she reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind her ear and kept her hand there to rest against the side of her neck. It was distracting, almost as much as her soft laugh. “You thought that me helping to take off your jacket meant the evening was leading into something more, but I assure you, even when inebriated, the Butch-man is all talk and no action.”

He was momentarily stunned by her joke, before putting the puzzle pieces together. In a drunken state he’d propositioned her and now, instead of being mad at him, she was teasing him. He flashed her an overexaggerated pout, one that had her hiding her grin behind her hand. Butch leaned sideways across her bed, digging his elbow into the mattress as he propped up his head.

“If ya’ wanted some action, girlie, all you had to do was ask,” he beamed at her, adding a wink when he noted the tint to her cheeks. Too easy. But he wasn’t there to get carried away with flirtatious innuendo—not now. “Ya’ sure I didn’t do, or say anything else that night?”

There had to be more to the story, he just knew it. She wouldn’t have reacted the way she did otherwise. Rosie hesitated, all the humor draining from her face. “You didn’t.”

Before Butch could say anything else, she continued. “Why have you been spending so much time drinking at the bars anyways?”

The pointed question caught him off guard, and he struggled to think of a good enough answer. One that didn’t make him feel vulnerable, at least. As withdrawn as Rosie was about her feelings, Butch was way worse—just so happened that his coping mechanisms were far unhealthier, and probably genetic. From where he was positioned, it was easier to see the collection of holodisks and loose papers, remembering that he’d intruded on a very private moment. He owed her some honesty, for once.

“Homesick, mostly. I think. Maybe,” he cleared his throat, unsure. He traced his fingers against the fabric of her sheets, focusing on the way her left hand rested on the bed in front of her—he still wanted to hold it. “Not for the vault, but…ugh. It’s hard to explain. I’m just—”

He chewed on his bottom lip, in disbelief he was about to say it out loud. But it didn’t seem so strange admitting it to Rosie. “Sad.”

When he finally looked back to her face, he found her blue eyes shining with a kind of sympathy he didn’t expect to find. “I know the feeling.”

Silence blanketed them, but it isn’t as uncomfortable as it was before. There was a quiet understanding as they regarded each other—just two lonely hearted people that were forced to grow up before they were ready. At least they had each other. Butch only wished that fact didn’t make his chest constrict with a kind of yearning that could never be fulfilled.

In an effort to distract himself, he glanced back down at the tapes she had haphazardly shoved beneath the spare pillow. The question danced on the tip of his tongue, and if he had been sober, he probably would’ve remained silent.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Rosie wrung her hands together, obviously anxious at his question. “How much did you hear?”

“Noth—” he decided it was best not to lie, especially when she frowned at him. His whole body felt warm again. “Your pops. Calling you Rosemary.”

She flinched, startled, eyes going wide behind her thick framed glasses. Butch knew it was her full name, but nobody except her old man, the Overseer and Mr. Brotch called her by it. He’d certainly never used it, well, until now. No wonder she seemed surprised—did it sound as foreign as it tasted? She’d given him strange looks when he started using Rosie more often than Stitches, but this was something a little different. A lot different. Like he’d spoken something sacred and forbidden, yet she didn’t look like she wanted to smite him.

“I—” she took a shaky breath, steadying herself. “You know what happened to my dad?”

He nodded solemnly, remaining silent and unmoving. Butch kept his eyes glued to her face, thinking about how he learned about it all secondhand. When she found him in the Muddy Rudder in October, she briefly mentioned her father had died. It wasn’t until he traveled with her to the Citadel that the rest of the blanks were filled in, and he learned about Project Purity and the Enclave, and how Doctor James Sheridan had sacrificed his life to keep the technology out of group’s hands. Rosie had witnessed it all, and barely escaped with the surviving scientists into Brotherhood safety. But she never spoke about it, so neither did he. If Butch knew how much suffering she’d been doing in silence, he might’ve said something sooner.

“I’m still trying to get over it all,” she whispered.

His heart ached for her and the amount of grief she must’ve been fighting through. The regret returned to churn at his stomach, fighting with the ever-present butterflies. Some friend he was. He wanted her to know he could be a compassionate and thoughtful guy—he could show off his romantic side later, God willing. Tonight, Butch DeLoria wore his heart on his sleeve.

He slid his hand across the space between them, and lightly grasped her fingers, brushing his thumb across the back of her knuckles. “Maybe you don’t have to.”

Rosie stared at their clasped hands for a moment, regarding his words. He reluctantly let her go when she pulled away, suddenly turning towards the nightstand. She grabbed his Pip-Boy, placing it between them, leaving hers behind so it could continue to serve as a makeshift lamp. Then, she reached to rifle through the holodisks on the bedspread, the blanket around her shifting. Butch ignored the way her loose shirt flashed the bare skin of her shoulder—now was not the time to get excited over a little bit of flesh.

“I only got to work with my father for a brief time at the Jefferson Memorial,” she started to explain, lifting up a tape that was labeled Project Purity Personal Journal. “I collected all of his journals and recordings but didn’t get a chance to listen to them until…after.”

She hesitated on placing the holodisk into the Pip-Boy’s player. “Like father, like daughter. He was very meticulous in his recordings. Some of these journals date back to before my birth. Before…my mom died and…my dad fled to the vault.”

Talking about her old man was one thing, but Butch wasn’t about to broach the topic of her mother. Hell no. You want to talk about something forbidden, that was it. Rosie didn’t dwell on what she said, toying with the playback controls.

“I thought if I read his notes, listened to him explain…” her voice broke as fresh tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “I would get the closure I’ve been chasing. But—”

She pressed play, and Butch involuntarily winced at the sound of Doctor James Sheridan’s voice. In Vault 101, he wasn’t somebody that necessarily ever had a kind word to say to him, not that Butch was deserving of such respect. He was Rosie’s childhood bully, a general menace, and was always messing up his clinic with blood and excuses. It was strange to hear him in such a disjointed manner, musing about Project Purity. He sounded tired. Guilty.

“It’s been close to twenty years since my last entry. Since I left all of this behind to make a life for my daughter, Rosemary. We spent all that time in Vault 101, tucked away from the rest of the world. It wasn’t perfect, but it was safe, and that’s all I could have hoped for.”

He glowered at the squiggly lines that appeared on the screen of his Pip-Boy. If the good doctor thought Vault 101 was safe, he was living in a world of delusion. Probably why he finally broke out, come to think of it.

“Now, my daughter is a grown woman. Beautiful, intelligent, confident. Just like her mother.”

Rosie was covering her face with one hand now, but it was obvious that she’d begun to cry in earnest, teeth clamped down hard across her bottom lip so she’d remain as silent as possible.

“And as hard as it was to admit it, she doesn't need her daddy anymore.”

The recording ended.

Rosie was unable to hold back the quiet sounds of her sobbing and snapped both hands to her face in and effort to hide her tears. She pushed away her glasses, rubbing at her eyes and cheeks as she turned away. It wasn’t like Butch hadn’t seen her cry before, but this was raw, unfiltered emotion. More than ever he felt like an interloper, like he was seeing something not meant for his eyes.

“I can’t help but feel like…” Rosie hiccupped away another sob, frantically wiping at her face. “Like he blamed me. The reason why Project Purity didn’t continue, why it failed. The reason why my mom died—it was all because of me.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “All those years growing up in the vault. It wasn’t like he was…abusive, just…distant. And now I know why.”

Butch decided it was time to move, time to say something—time to lend some kind of comfort. Even if she ultimately rejected it, he had to try. He pushed himself to sit, scooting his Pip-Boy to the side so his legs could occupy the space instead. In retrospect, he was a lot closer than he intended to be, but there was no backing away now, no second-guessing his decisions. Heart. On. Sleeve.

“Hey, hey,” he tentatively reached out to her shoulders, rolling them under his grasp. “Don’t—”

He wasn’t about to tell her not to cry, but what she was suggesting didn’t sit right with him. Butch titled her chin up with a fleeting touch. Rosie inhaled sharply, and her hands fell to his forearms, but she didn’t push him away. She still couldn’t look at him, staring down at what little space remained between their bodies.  

“No way your old man thought that way about you,” he said, tilting his head in an attempt to catch her eyes. “I mean—he wouldn’t say all those things about ya’ if he didn’t think it was true, right? Never thought you’d hear them, so why lie?”

Rosie’s breath was still shaky, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. He quickly swept them away with the pad of his thumb and gingerly cupped the side of her face, fingers tangling in her hair.

“Beautiful, intelligent, confident,” he repeated the words from the holotape, hoping that if she couldn’t believe dear ol’ dad, then she’d at least believe him. “Sounds like the Rosie I know.”

Finally, she looked at him and the breath was stolen right out from his lungs. Her eyes were still glossy, but she’d stopped crying, the blue of her irises shimmering so intensely it was like he was being hypnotized. A blush had settled across her cheeks and nose, creeping up from her pale neck. Butch flicked his gaze to her slightly parted lips, realizing that by titling his chin down, he could kiss her.

A split second of clarity snapped his mind into focus and like a punch to the gut he realized how much of a dumbass move that would be. Kiss her? That was the kind of debauchery that got him into trouble with Rosie in the first place. He thought so, at least. Plus, he couldn’t kiss her when she was vulnerable, and while he was still so full of booze he might as well puke in her trash bin. No way did he want their first kiss to be one he regretted.

Rosie’s fingers dug into his jacket and regardless of what the silent signal meant, he pulled away, giving her space. He couldn’t look at her face for a long while, not wanting to see the possible disappointment in her expression. When he finally dared to glance up, he found her staring at his boots, dirty from whatever he’d walked across while in town that evening. And now they were resting across her bedsheets.

Butch let out a nervous chuckle as he swiftly untied the laces and pushed them off his feet. Rosie offered a lopsided smile at the gesture, though he had to wonder if she actually wanted him to leave instead. He wiggled his toes in his socks, reminding himself that if she wanted him gone, she’d say so. When the silence stretched on for too long, he awkwardly gestured to a holotape that was labeled differently than the others.

“What’s that one?”

Rosie’s smile was much more genuine as she read the label. “Better Days.”

“What’s on it?” Butch asked cautiously. “Doesn’t sound so science-y.”

“It’s—it’s one of my mother’s recordings,” she explained, in a quiet voice.

Butch’s curiosity was spiked. “Whoa, really?”

She seemed to be considering something before grabbing for his Pip-Boy again, swapping out one holodisk for another. This time, he wasn’t sure what to expect, leaning closer to the device in anticipation.

“...that batch of tests was inconclusive, but Madison and I are convinced it's a problem with the secondary filtration system. We're going to re-calibrate the equipment and try again tomorrow, so that—”

Rosie paused the playback, and Butch couldn’t help but grin at the voice he’d heard. He met her gaze, and softly laughed, which only perplexed her. “Your ma sounds just like you,” he said, catching her little, flustered expression. “I mean, you sound like her. Smart. Got those brains from somewhere, huh?”

“I—” she bit down on her bottom lip, holding back a beaming smile. Butch wished she wouldn’t. “I suppose so.”

“Is there more?” he felt selfish for asking. This was her mom, and she’d been willing to share such a private memory with him. He didn’t have to be so greedy.

Rosie fiddled with the Pip-Boy controls, the tint to her cheeks returning. “It’s…embarrassing.”

“Whadd’ya mean?”

She was suddenly interested in a spot on the metal ceiling. “My mom was uhm…interrupted,” she said. “By…my dad.”

Oh. Butch bit back a lewd expression, considering these were Rosie’s parents. Her deceased parents. She noticed his reaction and leaned forward to give his shoulder a playful shove. Well, that was a good sign, if any, that they were back on good terms. Or headed that way.

“Get your mind out of the gutter!” she reprimanded, even if there was a trace of amusement in her tone. “It isn’t like they recorded a—a sex tape, or something.”

Butch’s brain short-wired on Rosie uttering the words sex tape, and it took him a couple seconds to catch up to reality. He pointed at the glowing screen. “How do I know? You’re the one who won’t play it.”

She huffed, but eventually continued the playback, lifting both hands to press against her face as her mother’s voice echoed around them. Whatever Butch was expecting, it wasn’t the playful teasing of a woman scientist, distracted by her amorous husband. Much different than those racy holofilms the Snakes and him used to sneak a peek at in the restricted area. This was romance—this was love.

“We'll move on to diagnosing the issues with the radiation dampeners. That should... Ow! James! Now? We really shouldn't...”

The tiny chortle is what really set him off. Why’d it sound so familiar, like he’d heard it before, replying in his dreams? Butch quickly realized, as he looked back up to meet Rosie’s eyes that he’d heard her giggle in the same way—a rare and wonderful thing, but he’d heard it enough times to catch the similarities now. He wanted to hear it again. Not in a faded memory, but straight from her lips—and he wanted to be the cause.

“Sounds like…they were happy,” he finally said.

Rosie slowly nodded. “Yeah.”

She moved the Pip-Boy back to the nightstand, and he took the hint that there would be no more listening sessions that evening. He had no idea what time it was, but it had to be late, and no doubt that she’d exhausted herself crying—both before and after his arrival. It was time for him to leave.

“Butch?”

This time, Rosie was the one to close the distance, scooting closer to his body before wrapping her arms around his neck in a loose hug. She rested her chin against his shoulder and sighed, the sensation causing a shiver to run down the length of his spine.

“Thank you,” she whispered. It was all she said.

Butch caught up to the moment, looping his arms around her waist, daring to squeeze her closer. “Yeah.”

After a few minutes, she nuzzled her cheek into the leather of his jacket. “You smell like gin. And cigarette ash. If it weren’t for the pomade and cologne, I’d probably kick you out.”

Butch snickered, but his brain was too hazy to come up with a proper comeback. Either from a sudden onset of drowsiness or the lingering effects of his intoxication, he wasn’t sure. “Yeah, well you…”

He rested his head against hers, pressing his nose through her dark hair. She smelt pretty, fresh and warm from a recent shower. The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. “You smell nice.”

Rosie very softly laughed, a quiet little giggle that ghosted across the shell of his ear and warmed his body and soul. She went quiet after that, going still in his arms. He didn’t dare to move, even after several minutes turned into almost a half-hour. His eyes went droopy, and he started to tilt sideways as it became harder to combat sleep.

“Hey, Rosie,” he hushed, trying to rouse her. “Time for bed. Think you’d rather sleep horizontally, yeah?”

She hummed, arms tightening around his shoulders. “Okay.”

When he tried to pull away again, she protested. “Don’t leave.”

Butch froze in place—surely she was sleep-talking. Did she know what she was talking about? Just a few weeks ago she was abhorrently against the idea of sharing a bed and now…?

Rosie spoke one last time, in a barely-there whisper. “Please.”

There was no denying her now, not that he necessarily wanted to leave. Butch only wished the circumstances were a little bit better. Clearer. Less muddled and thick with heavy emotion. If he wasn’t so tired, he might’ve had a crying session himself, but that could wait for another evening.

Instead, he shifted their bodies backwards across the bed, uncaring that they were laying across the mattress diagonally, and that his feet were hanging off the bed. If he moved her again, he’d surely wake her and risk ruining the entire moment. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it across their torsos, shielding them from the cool air of her room. Rosie snuggled close, arms curled tight against his chest—she was blissfully asleep. Butch tucked his arm around her waist, allowing himself one fleeting kiss to her temple as he succumbed to the darkness of sleep.

“Goodnight,” he whispered. “Rosemary.”

[whitterzthefangirl]

Niall Horan One Shot - The Weight of It All

Happy Saturday night beautiful people! I have been writing for 8 months with the intention of eventually sharing something. I have been far too nervous to do so, but I finally read my writing to my husband and best friend who both encouraged me to post this. I have about 15 written stories, so if you like this LEMME KNOW!  I will tell you that there is TW: miscarriage. 

When Niall arrived home that evening he was disappointed to find the house dark, except for the light at the end of the hall, their bedroom. 

 “Lovey,” he called, continuing his steps into their bedroom. He found her seated in their master bath, their rescue pup, Rosa Barks at her feet. She was staring into space, but met his eyes when he stepped into her space. 

 Niall, hi,” she forced a smile, as he took a seat next to her, scratching behind Rosa’s ears, “How was the meeting?” 

 “Just finalizing album artwork, sorry I had to go,” he nudged her shoulder with his, “Why’d you move in here?” When he left she had requested alone time in bed. He had checked on her a few different times, bringing snacks, water, and coffee, which was the only thing she didn’t refuse.  Never once had he found her doing anything but writing in the journal he’d bought her a year ago. It was a grey leather bound book with a silver heart in the corner. It currently holds more used than blank pages. They weren't the best at talking things through with each other at the moment, so he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about the words in there. He was hoping that one day she’d tell him all about it, maybe let him read some of it, but he wasn’t holding his breath. 

 “Change of scenery,” she stated with a shrug, refocusing her gaze in front of her. On the other side of her, he saw 2 items. One was her journal, the other a baby onesie. He felt a sense of panic inside of him. It became obvious that he had not succeeded in the hunt to clear the house of any mention of a baby. Their baby. 

 “What have you got there, lovey?” he asked, grabbing her hand. She did not return the embrace, and he quickly let it go feeling silly at the unreturned exchange. He felt another feeling rise inside of him, frustration. They had been doing so well. 

 “Do you ever think about the baby? “ she asked.   

 Her question made Niall wish he was anywhere but here at the moment. Not because he didn’t want to comfort her, but because he feared being honest with her at this moment. He thought of the baby frequently, but not in the same way that she did. Both of them were sad, but she harbored guilt over the fact that her body had betrayed her. It was something she carried alone, because she wouldn’t let him carry it with her. 

 At the time of her pregnancy test, she had been getting ready to start her own marketing company and had been vomiting at nearly the same time every morning. At first she thought it was nerves, until she had confided in her mom who teased her about being pregnant, which sparked an internal countdown to her last period, which she realized was late. 

 She had taken the test alone, and only waited hours to share the news with Niall. She had feared how he would react, but if he was freaked out, he wasn’t letting on. He had immediately gone out, and bought the unborn baby a set of golf clubs, and a guitar. She remembered teasing him that their child might not want to participate in the same hobbies, she remembered when he smiled back, “They won’t have a choice.” 

 An accidental pregnancy is a weird thing between two people, who love each other, especially as you realize how much you truly want it. She remembers the first 3 weeks after finding out she was pregnant, and all the plans they made for baby Horan, and her upcoming pregnancy. He was excited to learn of her cravings, and to be there anytime she needed him, after he finished his last leg of the tour. She loved that the two shared this super intimate thing between the two of them which resulted in a lot of sex, followed by a lot of time in bed. By week 8, the pair frequently caught the other in daydreams about what he or she would be like, look like, sound like. By week 9, he was leaving for a 13 show tour, with promises of Facetime, belly time, and lots of visits. By week 12, she was calling Niall from the hospital, sobbing about not being pregnant anymore. As quickly as they had dreamt it, it was gone. That was the hardest part for Niall, not being there when she needed him the most, which was why he was choosing to keep her close now. 

 At the end of week 13, she couldn’t talk about the baby without crying, but found solace in the fact that Niall couldn’t either. By week 17 , Niall had stopped bringing the entire thing up for fear of making her cry, which made him cry. She took this as a sign that he didn’t want to talk about it at all, so she began retreating to the bathroom where she cried alone. Niall took note of this, and would hover outside the door with their pup, Rosa any chance he got. By week 20, Niall  had thought his girl was back, but a birthday party in week 22 made her fall apart all over again at the sight of her baby brother’s baby. For week 25, Niall surprised her with a 3 week trip to Hawaii which she accepted, and he could have sworn that he saw the light return to her eyes when she smiled at him and said, “Some time away will be good for me.” During that vacation, he believed she was back, and he found himself hopeful that things were going to be ok, which is why he chose to travel to New York come week 29. Things were not ok though, and week 30 through 39 were spent with her going through the motions of life, crying alone in the bathroom, only this time around she was really good at hiding it. Week 40 brings us to the bathroom floor where Niall and she are sitting. The due date. 

 Remembering her question, he bumps her shoulder as a playful gesture, trying to engage her physically, “Of course I do, Lovey. You know that,” he smiles at her, and prays that tears don’t fall from her baby blues. 

 “We don’t talk about it.” She mentions in a very matter of fact tone, she does not engage him physically, she doesn't even look at him as she says, “I’ve cried in this bathroom almost every day for 40 weeks.” 

 He was confused, he knew she had cried quite a bit at first, but it had all stopped after Hawaii. Hadn’t it? She didn’t allow him time to question, instead stating, “I had a dream.” She was sprouting so many things off, he did not know which one to bite on to, but again she did not give him a chance to offer any feedback, she just continued, “The baby was there. A baby girl.” She took this chance to look at him, which helped him to gauge how she was emotionally, she was lit up, and then started crying suddenly, “She had your nose, and my lips, our eyes. She was the perfect mix of both of us, and it was all so sad, Niall.” She leaned into his side, as he placed an arm around her, stroking her long dark hair. 

 “Oh lovey, why didn’t you say anything?” He cooed. As her cries continued, he shed a few tears of his own. She didn’t answer his question, instead saying, “I thought about dying today. I think about dying a lot,” she paused, moving away from him as if he was a hot stove top. 

Niall’s face softened. Had he been so naïve to think she was fine after everything that had happened? It hurt to hear that she thought of dying so much, he was speechless, which allowed her to continue. 

 “I’m mad, and sad, and still grieving. I don’t know how to get over this, and it feels like I never will,” she was in hysterics at this point, “I never talk about it. I never told anyone.” He knew that to be true. It was something she had requested of him. The only people who knew she had a miscarriage were the people who knew she was pregnant: Niall and She. She continued crying, and he wasn’t sure what to do, so he did the only thing he could. He held her, rubbing circles in her exposed flesh. He was hoping she would focus on anything, but how she was feeling. He believed it was working, because her cries got softer. What felt like hours was really ten minutes, and Niall decided it time to speak up. 

 “I’m not much of a talker, darlin’. When we first came home, and had to deal with the weight of it all, I didn’t know how to talk about it without crying, and my crying made you cry, so I decided to be strong for the both of us.” 

 She closed her eyes, facing him. “I appreciate that, but I think I need to be strong for me now. I need to get some help.” 

[path-of-my-childhood]

Taylor Swift is the artist of the decade

By: Courteney Larocca for Insider Date: December 16th 2019

Not only has Swift been putting out No. 1 hit after No. 1 hit this decade, but her music has latched onto its listeners in deeply intimate ways. The singer has also been actively using her platform as a successful artist to shed light on injustices within the music industry to ensure a younger generation of musicians can thrive in an environment that cares about their work, as opposed to commodifies it.

Taylor Swift knows that if you're the smartest person in the room, then you're in the wrong room. Oddly enough, Swift usually is the smartest person in any room.

While the casual observer may see Swift as nothing more than a pop star, she's one of the few people who has actively been making her industry - and the lives of her fans - better in irreversible and notable ways throughout the decade.

Swift was barely 20 years old when she became the youngest artist to ever win album of the year at the Grammy Awards on January 31, 2010, for her sophomore album, "Fearless." While the album came out in late 2008, it set Swift up to become an international phenomenon over the course of the 2010s; it even landed at No. 98 on this decade's overall Billboard Hot 200 list.

Her early success made sense - audiences love a wunderkind, plus there was something so incredibly relatable about a teenager telling her crush, "you belong with me."

But for me, and other fans of Swift, it was more than that. She was someone we could see ourselves in as we navigated our own lives and romances. And with the release of "Speak Now," in late 2010, Swift proved she wasn't capable of just reinventing optimistic love stories, she had a complete grasp on heartbreak and pain, too.

Swift demonstrated her songwriting prowess early on, and her music only continued to get stronger all the way through her 2019 album, 'Lover'

"Speak Now" is an entirely self-written album that charted on the Billboard Hot 200 for 137 weeks, which was not only a huge middle finger to critics who claimed Swift didn't write her own music, but also proof she was one of the most promising songwriters of her generation.

Arming herself with lyrics like "I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe," and "The lingering question kept me up / Two a.m., who do you love?" Swift created a bulletproof foundation for a career built around her uncanny ability to pinpoint crucial moments of intimacy and turn them into universal anthems of heartbreak, love, and loss that became soundtracks to real fans' lives.

Obviously, the stellar music never stopped coming. With 2012 came "Red," an album that's aged so gracefully that it's landed on numerous best albums of the 2010s lists.

Swift dropped her pop masterpiece, "1989," in 2014 - an album that boasts her biggest Billboard Hot 100 hit to date, "Shake It Off," which stayed on the chart for 50 consecutive weeks. "1989" also earned Swift another album of the year win at the Grammys, making her the first woman to ever be honored with that award twice.

Swift continued her career growth with "Reputation" in 2017, which helped her break The Rolling Stones' record for highest-grossing US tour in history by earning a whopping $266.1 million. Then, capping off the decade came 2019's "Lover," an album that showcased all of Swift's immense musical talents, but stands out in her catalog as the first album that she outright owns - a triumph that goes far beyond the music itself.

It's important to note, though, that there is no singular album that can easily be delegated as the "fan favorite," largely because each album is so special within Swift's discography. If you picked seven different fans off the street, they could very easily all have a different answer to the question, "What is your favorite Taylor Swift album?"

Even critics can't fully answer that question. While "Red" is known for being critically beloved (and is my own personal favorite), Billboard had six of its writers argue for one of her first six studio albums as being her best. Also, when I ranked Swift's best and worst songs for Insider earlier this year, songs from every single one of her albums made the "best" list.

One of the reasons Swift's fans constantly latched onto her music this decade - leading to her chart-topping dominance - was because her lyrics always felt so personal, yet relatable at the same time.

Take "All Too Well," for instance. It was a deep cut tucked cleverly away at track No. 5 on "Red." It was never released as a single, but this mighty pop-rock ballad became the sort of musical zenith most artists only dream about writing.

Hearing Swift weave in intimate details about listening to her ill-fated lover's mother tell stories about his childhood or leaving her scarf at his sister's house might seem too specific to reach a larger audience outside of her piano room, but it's exactly that candor that makes Swift's best songs feel so ubiquitous.

Swift's relatability proved crucial in 2017 when it came to her impacts on societal shifts outside of the music industry

Two months before the New York Times exposé of Harvey Weinstein was published, Swift stood up in a Denver courthouse against an ex-radio DJ who groped her at a 2013 meet-and-greet and then had the gall to sue her for damages after he was fired from his job.

The phrases from her testimony, "I'm critical of your client sticking his hand under my skirt and grabbing my a--," and "I'm not going to let you or your client make me feel in any way that this is my fault," will forever be ingrained in Swift's fans' minds alongside the lyrics she wrote in her high school diaries.

After she won her symbolic $1, which she sought out for "anyone who feels silenced by a sexual assault," The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network, or RAINN, told ABC that its national hotline saw a 35% increase in calls over the weekend following her testimony.

"Seeing someone that they respect, that they identify with [state they've been assaulted], has a big impact," RAINN's president Scott Berkowitz told ABC News at the time.

It's easy to look at a statistic and not think about the people behind it, but I can say that for myself, Swift played a pivotal role in how I viewed my own sexual assault.

Even before her fearless testimony, I turned to her 2010 ballad, "Dear John," for validation that I wasn't the only woman who ever counted her footsteps, praying the floor won't fall through again while dating a man with a "sick need to take love away." I later found solace in "Clean," the atmospheric "1989" closer that promises its listener that they'll one day be able to finally breathe after a roller-coaster relationship.

There's no doubt in my mind that I'm not the only one who saw their own pain reflected in Swift's lyrics, allowing them to grieve. After all, she wouldn't have become the artist with the highest-ever amount of American Music Awards, which is a fully fan-voted show, if her music was just OK.

Swift has also made strides at bettering the music industry for her fellow artists as well as herself

I won't rehash the recent legal woes brought on by Scott Borchetta selling Swift's former label Big Machine Records - and thus, all of Swift's catalog up through 2017's "Reputation" - to Scooter Braun (because who needs Big Machine anyway?). I will say that Swift fighting to own her art, and by proximity her fight for all artists to own their art, is just one example of the work she's done this decade to protect artists' rights.

You may remember that she got endlessly dragged for taking her music off Spotify or writing a letter to Apple condemning its policy of not paying artists during a three-month free trial period of Apple Music. But underneath all of the misogynistic, "she's only out for money" criticisms spat at her, you'll find she did those things to bring light to issues within her industry that hurt up-and-coming artists who don't have the millions of dollars that Swift has. Within less than 24 hours, Swift received a direct response to her open letter to Apple, saying the company had decided to reverse its decision.

When Swift chose to leave Big Machine behind in 2018, she didn't just leave for the sake of leaving. She instead negotiated a deal with Universal Music Group that not only granted her the rights to everything she would create under the label but also included a clause in her contract stipulating that "any sale of [UMG's] Spotify shares result in a distribution of money to their artists, non-recoupable."

She also said the label had agreed to this "at what they believe will be much better terms than paid out previously by other major labels."

That means that with her contract, Swift made sure other favorite artists of this decade, like Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Ariana Grande, and Kanye West, will benefit from the revenue their art brings in. The same goes for lesser-known and newer artists signed to the label.  

Even other artists have given credit to Swift for the way she changed the way we consume pop music

It's hard to imagine today's pop stars like Ariana Grande would be able to name-check their former lovers in songs like "Thank U, Next," and have them be the successful hits we know today if Swift hadn't previously crafted breakup songs like 2010's "Dear John" and 2014's "Style" that made it clear who the tracks were about - John Mayer and Harry Styles - right there in the titles.

Halsey, another artist who rose to prominence this decade, has even lionized Swift as one of her songwriting heroes, notably for her smart bridges.

"The bridge [of a song] is a fortune cookie. It pulls the whole thing together, it's the punchline, it's one of the most important parts of a song. Ask Taylor Swift, she writes the best ones in history," Halsey said in a November 2019 interview with Capital FM.

Anyone who's listened to "Out of the Woods," "Don't Blame Me," or "Lover" knows this to be true.

Swift deserves to be the artist of the decade because her music validated women while she simultaneously fought for a younger generation to make new music in a better environment

It took 13 years for Swift to come out with a track contemplating the misogynist double standards she's had to face as a woman in the music industry, and it's easy to agree with her sentiment: If Swift were a man, then she would, no doubt, be "The Man."

But while she maybe would have faced fewer obstacles and overtly sexist criticisms throughout her career if she were a man, she may not have touched as many women's lives with her music.

Being someone who has idolized Swift since I was 11 years old, I can say that the reason she matters is because not only does she produce beautifully-worded tracks that resonate with fans on extremely personal levels, but she also wants to make the world a better, fairer place - one music contract, open letter, and song lyric at a time.

And that's something that should never be shaken off.

[littlespacestars]

Shallura Fic Rec #3

Time for another Shallura fic rec list! (categorized to the best of my ability)

Shallura Rec List #1

Shallura Rec List #2

Mulitchapter/Long Fics

(I’m including fics that have been updated/concluded since the last fic rec list)

Into the Woods - (3/3) - @andtheblueberrymuffin

Something wet and cold splatters against Allura’s cheek.

A moment later, a second drop lands on her forehead, and she groans, raising a hand to rub at her face. She feels… groggy, as though she just woke from a long, deep sleep. The wetness on her face makes no sense. She cracks her eyes open and finds that she is staring up at a gray sky, full of storm clouds, heavy with rain.

This is not where she last remembers being.

Or: The one where Allura and Shiro end up lost in space.

Slow burn, hurt/comfort, plot, huddling for warmth, mystery, feelings, gore related to hunting

The Princess and the Pilot - (5/?)  - @ashesandhoney

In an alternate timeline, Shiro gets picked up by the Galra before the war starts and eventually ends up being given to the Princess of the Alteans as a joke or an attempt to start a war or as a mistake. Whatever their motive was for sending him, Allura is now left trying to figure out what to do with him.

Alternate universe, slow burn, prisoner Shiro

The Space Between Stars - (6/?) - wordswithdragons ( @shiroallura)

Stranded across the galaxy, Shiro and Keith must survive the cold blooded creatures that lurk upon the planet they crash landed on. Pidge, Hunk and Lance find themselves caught up on a Galra infested planet of winged aliens, while Allura and Coran face coming to terms with their greatest hope and sorrow: Altea. // A rewriting, fix-it fic of season two, featuring families, backstories, aliens, loss, and love. More info inside.

No Need To Say Goodbye - (1/1) - @smolsarcasticraspberry

The juniberry tree blossoms every seven years, and when it does, a gateway opens up to another world - a world that Shiro first explores as a child. There, he meets Allura. They do not speak the same language, but children do not need words to play. Every seven years, when the gateway opens again, Shiro steps through to visit the girl he knows on the other side. But the gateway only stays open as long as the juniberry flowers bloom...

AU, angst, childhood friends, reunion

Masks - (1/5) - @braincoins​

Shiro screws-up and Allura has to cover for him by pretending they're married. This means Shiro is now involved in the negotiations with an alien race rumored to have sent the Galra packing. They could be a great help to the Coalition, so long as they're not offended or insulted in some way. So it's Allura's job to convince them to sign on, and it's Shiro's job to be her consort. Neither of those should be that difficult... right?

Fake/pretend relationship, semi-au, Fluff & Politics, pining!Shiro, the other paladins & Coran are here too but not as much

When We Were Young - (8/8) - @ashesandhoney​

When they were young they had hidden under tables at embassy events and eaten stolen pieces of cake. They had climbed up onto the roof at school and made up stories about the teachers walking to their cars at the end of the day. They weren’t the same species but that had never stopped them before.

It’s been tens years since he last saw her.

Childhood friends, AU - canon divergence, marriage proposal, alien culture, no Voltron

Find Me In The Night - (2/2) - @smolsarcasticraspberry​

"Ah, yes. Charged particles from your local star interact with the magnetic field of the planet in areas where the magnetic field lines are close together."

Shiro laughs, in spite of himself. She's the nerdiest princess he's ever met. Not that he's met many, of course. Or any at all, before her.

"We call it an aurora. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

***

When aliens land on Earth looking for a mysterious weapon under the Arctic ice, Captain Shirogane of the Galaxy Garrison is tasked with accompanying an alien Princess in her quest.

Mature, Shallura Holidays Month 2017, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Earth AU, winter fic

Touch - (3/3) - @ashesandhoney​

The Sacred Alteans could bend quintessence to their whims but wielding that much power couldn't be consequence free.

Allura loses her sense of touch and has to learn to function without it.

A fic with scenes including: nearly bleeding to death, some angst over being the last of a species, fancy ballgowns and space pirates, tickling, sparring practice, Shiro being really into Allura wearing track pants, blow job jokes, quite a bit of pining, Allura glowing, some smut.

Explicit, mutual pining, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, AU - Canon Divergence, light angst

Of Small Talks and Forget-me-nots - (6/6) - Part 1 - Opl_Mor

Shiro has been chasing Allura since he was six and she stumbled into his land of make believe- his escape from the strain between his parents. A misfit pair with no one but each other try to navigate an often cruel and unforgiving world. Unfortunately, fate isn't always kind and sometimes pairs are pulled apart. This is a story of hardships and heartbreak, but more than that, it's about the power of mending those parts of life. This is about a modern princess saving a lonely boy in more ways than she could possibly know.

Childhood friends, friends to lovers, bullying, divorce, Shiro’s got a lisp, Allura is a ballerina black belt

Woman King - (20/20) - @juniperallura​

Queen Allura rules over the Altean court, in the company of her young cousin Lance. As the bloody war with the Galra drags on, she searches for unlikely allies- including a supposed defector dwelling on the edge of the palace village. A Shallura historical/fantasy AU (with side Klance).

AU - historical, AU - fantasy, side Klance, light angst, slow burn, pining, mutul pining, secret relationship

When the Sun Sets - (4/?) - rainingWolf

Out of everyone in the entire galaxy, Shiro just so happened to chance upon Allura on a starry night. Set in a zombie apocalypse AU.

Zombie apocalypse, Zombie AU, romance, drama, action/adventure, angst, Altea, alien planet

Across the Universe - (2/?) - saintgenevieve

Allura takes a deep breath. “Pidge…what is a soulmate?”

“What?”

“Shiro told Keith I was his ‘soulmate,’ but I don’t really understand what that word means.”

Mature, Pining, serious pining and angst, Allura’s relationship with the paladins, friendship, love confessions, true love, grieving, some Klance

Loving the Alien - (3/?) - hatandgoggles

The story takes place in 1954, in a town in New Mexico. Roughly seven years after a mysterious object crashed into the nearby desert, a woman Shiro met that night returns to his diner when he needs it the most. Or will she only drag him into an adventure he never asked for?

AU - 1950s

Let Go Darling - (1/?) - evelyn_hayes

Allura blinks. She's suddenly outside, the pale moon shining down on her and the old house behind her. There's a man gripping her hand. Tall and shrouded in a peculiar jacket. His hood shadows his face, but she makes out a scar across his nose and a patch of white hair dangling from the front of his head. She searches his face and sees-

Black eyes.

Witch!Allura, Hunter!Allura, Demon!Shiro, alchemy, magic, crossover, feat. the IMPALA BABY, but in white, guadian demon, self-harm, road trips, true names, vassal and liege, angst, klance fluff, Shiro has PTSD, protective Shiro, implied/referenced abuse/torture, businessman Lotor

There is Love in Your Body (But You Can’t Get it Out) - (1/1) - @andtheblueberrymuffin​

In the end, it doesn’t matter how exactly Shiro falls in love with Allura. He just does and it’s… Not a problem, exactly, but a consideration that lurks in the back of his thoughts. He doesn’t plan to do anything about it. They’re in the middle of a war. This isn’t the time for love. And even if it was, he is what he is and she is…. Beyond him.

Or: The one where mistakes were made and Shiro has to crash a wedding that shouldn't be happening in the first place.

Angst with happy ending, feelings, wedding crashing, emotional trauma is the real villain here

Duties of Heart - (1/1) - anglmukhii

They were both Jedi, but she was also a Queen. There were worlds of differences between them, yet they can only find peace and solace in each other. But between an Order that forbids it and her position that demands that if she marry, it must be for the good of her people: is there truly any hope for them?

AU - Star Wars Setting, break up, making up, angst, fluff, one fight scene, Jedi Shiro, Allura’s a Jedi too but she’s a queen as well, mentions of Keith, Shallura Secret Santa 2017

The Lost Kingdom (1/?) - littlewinterwonderland

"…in a single day and night of misfortune, the kingdom of Altea, perhaps the greatest civilization on earth, disappeared into the depths of the sea. It left behind only mystery, gloom and a boy with a heart made for the unknown"

Atlantis AU, Shiro is a nerd

Day to Day - (7/7) One-shot Collection - TKipani

Seven days when Shiro and Allura were a little more than paladin and princess. Series of drabbles/oneshots for Shallura Week 2016. These drabbles are sequential and connected.

Shallura Week 2016, sequential, the whole gang makes an appearance, drabbles and oneshots, connections, vague Klance if you squint

Lose It - (1/1) - viiisenya

Shiro is a decent enough hitman sometimes doubling as a thief, when the occasion (and payout) called for it. The last person he thinks would call for his services is influential businessman Alfor Altea of Voltron Inc., and what Shiro thought would be an easy job turned out to be a little more complicated thanks to one company heiress. He's usually the one that does the stealing but he didn't think he'd be the victim of a theft himself.

Hitman/thief AU, implied Klance, one-shot

We Were Young Once (We Are Young Again) - (1/1) - @andtheblueberrymuffin​

They win.

In the aftermath, Shiro can’t quite wrap his mind around it. The war consumed every thought he had and every bit of his energy for so long that its sudden absence leaves behind a gaping hole. He expects to wake up, to find that Zarkon and Haggar are still out there and that the victory was just some cruel trick executed by his mind.

Or: The one where Shiro and Allura learn how to live outside of the war that's defined their lives for so long.

Slow burn, mutual pining, domestic fluff, post-war, recovery, some angst, arguing, emotional glowing

Throughout the Ages - (11/11) - MinnieTheMoocherDA

Shallura modern au where they've known each other since kindergarten. A collection of various one-shots depicting events in their lives as they grow up.

AU - Modern Setting, AU - High School, Keith and Shiro are adopted brothers, Allura and Lance are cousins

Fluff

Snooze Button - @alteanrituals​ (thesoulsikeep)

Mornings are the worst, especially after a battle.

Fluff, cuddling and snuggling, lazy mornings, established Shiro/Allura

Have a Magical Day - nayanroo ( @teslatricity​)

The universe is mostly at peace again, and so it's time for its defenders to take a vacation. What better place to do that than Disney World?

Disney World & DisneyLand, established Shallura, minor background Klance, background Hunay, Allura doesn’t want any Mickey ears, she wants the right Mickey ears, and to kiss her boyfriend as much as possible

Compatible - thir13enth ( @ahumanintraining​)

"I wonder what marks you would have, if you were Altean."

Fluff, exploration of a headcanon, beautiful beautiful fluff and cute humor

De-Stress - TKipani

Politics and battles are difficult, but Allura finds ways to de-stress. And Shiro is happy to help.

One-shot, battle sequences, fighting sequences, the couple that kicks ass together stays together, takes place sometime within season 4, ignores clone theory

Ice Deck - @ebonynightwriter​

The Paladins awake to a chill in the Castleship – and a very different training deck.

Fun/Humor, ice skating, ship repairs, friendship, one-shot, canon universe, Shallura Month 2017

Just You and Me (Or Thank the Stars the Kids Aren’t Home) - thir13enth ( @ahumanintraining​)

Domestic fluff, actual parents Shiro and Allura, ft. starrycove’s shallura children!

A Matter of Time - nayanroo ( @teslatricity​)

The war's over, and the universe is starting to rebuild. As Allura leads the charge in forming new alliances, looking to the future, Shiro considers the kind of future he wants for them. But being a paladin means that your plans tend to go awry and your timing is never the greatest...

Shiro’s parents, engagement, Shiro is a bit of a disaster, he loves her so much y’all

“Shallura Fanfiction” - @clairelutra​

Mutual pining/feelings, humor

Something Sparkly - @pensversusswords​

“I’d love something sparkly,” Allura says.

Shiro is powerless when it comes to giving Allura what she wants.

First kiss, getting together, fluff, misunderstandings, Altean traditions

Contagion - @andtheblueberrymuffin​

Based on my week, have some Shallura + paladins fluff wherein all the earthlings come down with the space flu and are not great patients.

Learn By Heart - @braincoins​

It's Allura's first semester teaching, and she's prepared for anything ...except Takashi Shirogane.

Modern AU, Shallura Secret Santa 2017, College/University AU, hot for teacher, pining, fluff

Autumn Wishes - @juniperallura​

For prompt "hold my hand/shooting star"

Shiro & Allura spend a day at the farm

Fluff, fluff without plot, Earth AU, Modern AU, fall vibes

Shiro and Allura Both Can’t Sleep - mckinlily

It is a generally held assumption that Shiro and Allura, both being unable to sleep, met up in the quiet of the night, and over the course pouring out their hearts to each other, fell in love. And while it is true neither Shiro nor Allura is very good at sleeping and they have met up at god-forsaken hours in the Castle, the heart-wrenching conversations are more a fiction than reality. This is due to the fact that—despite all attempts to appear otherwise—Shiro and Allura are actually both very young adults and just as susceptible terrible 2am ideas as anyone.

They do fall in love though. But it goes like this:

OR How Shiro and Allura got a lifetime ban from Hunk's kitchen and other fun stories.

Caught in the Act - @andtheblueberrymuffin​

Established relationship, fic prompt, stuck in the elevator

Once Upon a December - RukiaG ( @rukia-g​)

One-shots for Shallura Holiday Month. Some may be AU, some post-canon.

Shallura Holiday Month 2017, AU - bodyguard, Protect AU, AU - modern setting, AU - fairy tale, post-canon

Lost in Your Light - Cyan ( @vehicroids​)

It hadn't been long at all since they found the blue lion, since they were all forced into an unknown part of the universe. Shiro struggled to sleep, thinking on it all. Thankfully, he wouldn't be alone that night.

Tooth-rotting fluff, fluff, traveling, post-canon, post-series, mutual pining, secret santa

Snow Angels - @bosstoaster​ (ChaoticReactions)

Advent Challenge, warm and fuzzy feelings, snow angels

Peace - @plumeriafairy14​

Many decades in the future after team Voltron defeated the evil plagues of the Galra Empire, Allura sits in the palace gazebo with her husband, Shiro. They go through the photo albums they have collected over the years and Allura savors the intimate moment as the former Black Paladin holds her in his embrace while narrating the memory of each photograph.

Allura basks in his love and takes what she can; her time is running out, after all.

Future fic, Illness, bittersweet ending, Shiro and Allura as emperor and empress, minor Klance, reminiscing

The Aftermath - Rosey_Vasilia

After a particularly rough attempt to rescue a planet from Galra occupation, Shiro decides to try and help Allura stop blaming herself.

Background Klance, literally Shallura being soft, short fluffy one-shot, a mission goes wrong so Shiro comforts Allura

Basorexia - 13Vivacious13

It was ridiculous. Completely, utterly, inexplicably ridiculous. No one should want to kiss the back of someone's neck as much as she wanted to right now.

Movie night, space family time, fluff, pining

In a Snap - KatherineKatie ( @kittykattykatherine​)

AU - Modern Setting, First dates, wingman, Keith means so well, snapchat, texting, light angst, flower shops, carnivals, humor, comedy, fluff

The Day Of - thir13enth ( @ahumanintraining​)

in which Shiro tries to propose, but Allura is too confused to figure it out.

Definitely fluffy, marriage proposal, AU, Shiro’s parents

Artist’s Block - befuddle

Allura's suffering from artist's block, and Shiro just wants to help.

Artist and model AU, Modern AU

Sparkles - Meli_writes (@meli-writes​)

Shiro wants to get out of the castle for a bit. When Allura agrees to go out with him he decides to get her something sparkly.

Space Mall, sparkly things, date, kisses, space dad, space mom, human vocab lesson, fluffy, cute, silly

Flight - littlespacestars (the shameless self-promo)

“Dad, I’m going to fly Blue!” A little girl speeds into the hangar with her arms out at her sides, triumphantly making a beeline towards the lions.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Shiro lifts his daughter away from the blue lion and props her on his hip, holding up a finger. “Just so we’re clear. I said Uncle Lance could fly Blue with you in his lap. This isn’t like you and me in Black.”

Lance strolls up behind them and leans against Blue, grinning from ear to ear.

“With a safety belt,” Shiro enunciates. “Lance.”

Tooth-rotting fluff, overprotective Space Dad, actual space parents, Uncle Klance, star babies, Shallura babies

Birthday - littlespacestars (the shameless self promo)

“Uh, Allura?” He doesn’t move an inch, only side glances at her and then back at the plump mouse standing upright on its hind legs. “There’s a giant—”

“Oh, don’t be alarmed, Shiro!” Allura sets aside her watering can and quickly scoops the stout mouse into her hands. She strokes the top of its head and gives it a fond smile. “This is just Platt, no need to worry.”

“Platt,” he repeats, still a little dumbfounded. “Okay, so it’s normal for you to have a yellow and green mouse. Noted.”

AU, minor angst, hurt/comfort, Shiro is human, Allura is still an alien, Shiro wants to celebrate her birthday, fluff, Shiro’s a dork, space mice, Shiro likes Lord of the Rings, Allura’s been stranded on Earth for six years now

Angst

Try Your Best (And Don’t Succeed) - mckinlily

Grief/mourning, Shiro has PTSD, Allura is a mess, Shiro is a mess, everyone is a mess but they’re trying the best they can, angst with a hopeful ending, set in season 2, gen or pre-slash, Allura-centric

Things Will Turn Out Fine - distinctive_pineapples (@obscure-sentimentalist​)

“Would you mind telling me a story?” he asks, brushing a hand against the back of his head as if embarrassed by the request. “Maybe an Altean folktale, or something about your family. I… I’d just like to have something to remember you by.”

And oh, does that make her want to weep.

Future fic, Shallurangst, inspired by another show, angst with a happy ending, hopeful ending

Past and Future - @ebonynightwriter​

During a Rebel training mission, Shiro and Allura are cut off from the group, and stranded on an unknown planet. Pushing to reunite with their team, they move forward, unaware of the dangerous forces around them…

Drama, tension, fighting, space battles, PTSD, psychological drama, mind control, mind games, developing relationship, feelings, one-shot, canon universe, season 4, Shallura Month 2017

S5 Shallurangst Drabbles - wordswithdragons ( @shiroallura​)

this is a series of shallurangst drabbles posted to my tumblr over at shiroallura. do not all follow the same timeline, although many of them do fit together, the bottom three each individual takes of different possibilities set after s5. enjoy and maybe have tissues if you're weepy like me

Protect AU: I Have a Princess (and she has me) - killashilla

After a royal Altean gala is violently interrupted, Princess Allura and her bodyguard Shiro wait out the chaos alone while testing the boundaries of their strict roles in each others lives.

Shallura Protect AU, AU - bodyguard, AU - Real World, angst with feels, pining, mutual pining, blood and injury, undressing, forbidden love

I Miss You - SirFangirl

The princess who lost everything managed to lose something once more.

Angst, spoilers for season five, Allura knows a fake Shiro when she sees one but won’t admit it, the white lion knows what’s up, Shiro misses his friends and doesn’t deserve to suffer like this

Home (It’s in Her Hands) - palladioaigis

She's the light at the end of the tunnel, his everything, his home, and his love for her transcends time and space.

[[ Written for the Shallura zine Stars Aligned, Issue Two: Onwards.]]

Shallura Zine, Shiro needs therapy or a hug dammit, reunion

Stay With Me - nachseon

It’s not fair. It never is.

Angst, heavy angst, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining

Checkmate - rainingWolf

Shallura, Klance, drama, angst, action, romance, remix, VLD Fanfiction Remix 2017

Kintsukuroi - 13Vivacious13

Shiro is still coming to terms with the past. Allura notices and tries to help the best she can.

Emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending sorta, mentions of non-consensual body modifications, nothing too serious happens, I promise, mostly just reflecting on the past, established Allura/Shiro

Only Human - @bosstoaster​ (ChaoticReactions)

Collection of whump fics, tumblr prompt, leaning against walls to hide needing support, injury, hurt/comfort

Kuron/Clone Theory

Exchanges - thir13enth ( @ahumanintraining​)

no returns, no refunds.

Clone theory, some angst

The Return of the Real Shiro - Meli_writes ( @meli-writes​)

The real Shiro returns to the castle and finds a man with HIS face pretending to be HIM.

In his search to find a paladin he runs into Allura and he's so relieved because that last he heard from her she was screaming in pain.

Now, he has to explain that he is the real Shiro not that phony walking around the castle.

Shallura hugs, the real Shiro, Shiro returns, from wherever

Gravity - @braincoins​

He looked at the clone. Monster, he thought. You didn’t mean to be, didn’t even want to be, but that’s what you are. He couldn’t help thinking that perhaps he and this clone had more in common after all.

Shallura Month 2017, angst, emotional hurt/comfort

Clone - littlespacestars (shameless self-promo)

Kuron is aware he’s a clone. He tries deciding whether or not to come clean to Allura about it, or let it surface on its own.

Shallurangst, One-sided attraction, Kuron wishes he were the real Shiro, angst

Like Real People Do - (5/5) - @andtheblueberrymuffin​ (Part 1 of Like Real People Do)

“Shiro knows this is wrong. Everything is wrong. But they need him. Keith said so, and Shiro knows, he knows, that if they need him he has to help them. It’s what he would do. It’s what he does. (Everything is fine.)

Or: The one where something is very wrong with Shiro after his second escape from the Galra.”

Tragedy, Post-Season/Series 03, Speculation about Shiro post season 3, ‘Shiro’, Implied/Referenced mind control, mind control aftermath & recovery, clone Shiro, prepare your tissues and cry deeply

Survivor's Rites (3/3) - (Part 2 of Like Real People Do) - @andtheblueberrymuffin​

The Paladins have suffered losses before, but nothing quite like the one they're dealing with now. It's difficult to find the time to grieve when dealing with betrayals and Lotor's continued attacks. None of them are well-equipped to move on, in any case.

Or: the sequel to 'Like Real People Do.' Now with more misery.

Past character death, grief/mourning, post season 3, lion swapping, angst

Heartlines (8/8) - (Part 3 of Like Real People Do) - @andtheblueberrymuffin​

After months of searching, Shiro has finally found his way back to the Castle of Lions, but nothing is quite how he remembers it. Everyone looks at him like they're seeing a ghost, for one thing....

Or: the conclusion to the 'Like Real People Do' series, where the fallout from the Galra Empire's experiments with human cloning nearly destroys everything the team has worked so hard to build. Takes place directly after the end of 'Survivor's Rites.'

Angst, emotional hurt/comfort, normal hurt/comfort in later chapters, clones, lion swapping, trauma, grief/mourning, plot, slow build, post season 3, implied/referenced underage drinking, original character death(s), attempted sexual assault, DOES NOT GET FAR

NSFW

Unconventional Piloting Methods - Pixie_rings ( @materassassino​)

Flying a giant robot lion while having sex isn't the best idea.

Unsafe flight practices, do not attempt at home, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, higher than the mile high club

Make You Feel Pure - sublimation ( @667-darkavenue​)

“After all he’d been through, it couldn’t be clearer that universal forces had bent themselves backwards to pull him into the orbit of someone who cared for him, who trusted him, and who needed his care and trust just as much...”

Pool sex, breast play, outercourse, oral sex, praise kink, attention kink, praise kink, body worship, existential crisis midsex, stumbling upon all the embarrassing kinks you’re into midsex, sex with your girlfriend so good it opens your third eye, soft dom Allura

Playlist - befuddle

“If there’s anyone to blame for cockblocking, blame your shitty taste in music!”

Domestic AU where Shiro tries to get his groove on, and Allura just isn't having it.

Sex in public, car sex, fluff

Infomercials - befuddle

“We need it! We can’t keep replacing my bedframe at the crack of a new quintant to avoid suspicion. This will solve all our problems!”

Not graphic, suggestive content, humor, Shiro and Allura keep breaking the bedframe, this is the Shallura discord’s fault, the Shallura discord’s legacy, shitpost

Incandescent - CalicoTomcat

Shiro and Allura share an intimate evening and morning together, savoring a peaceful moment on the Castle of Lions.

Established relationship, oral sex, vaginal sex, genital piercing, fluffy and adorkable

Belong To You Alone - sublimation ( @667-darkavenue​)

“Smile back, ask questions about him, go along with his suggestions. You’ve seen me do it.”

He thought it over. “Isn’t that… We have to leave in a day, with or without the army.”

“Oh, Shiro.” Allura smiled. “He’s not trying to ask for your hand, he just thinks you’re nice to look at. It’s harmless.”

“Well. I’ll give it a shot.”

When Shiro gave something a shot, he didn’t hold back.

Space politics, throwing Shiro under the bus as sexy leverage, blow jobs, frustration, jealousy, smut w/ plot, attention kink, praise kink, misunderstanding & miscommunication

Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts - Meli_writes ( @meli-writes​)

Allura has always wondered what The Paladins meant when they shouted things like: "Fuck you!" or "Suck my dick!" in the middle of a fight against Zarkon's army. One night she asks Shiro what it all means and he tries his best to explain. ;)

Funny, sexy, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, angst, smut, embarrassed Shiro, flirty Allura, sexy Shiro

Alien Anatomy Altean - FeyduBois

Shiro and Allura's first time does not go as planned due to differences in biology.

Alien sex, alien biology, anal fingering, crack, smut

Une Petite Mort Thermique - pixie_rings ( @materassassino​)

The one sexual taboo Altea had, and she is about to break it.

Anal sex, alien biology, kink meme

Just So I Can Feel Something - @smolsarcasticraspberry​

Sometimes you can't sleep and the only thing that helps is fucking your co-worker in the break room cos you haven't been kissed in 10,000 years.

OR: that time after Crystal Venom when Shiro and Allura hooked up on the sofas and tried to act like it didn't mean anything.

"Allura took a sip of her tea, hoping the hot steam would hide her blush, and leaned over to put her mug down on the coffee table. Her body shifted with the movement, and her hand drew away from Shiro's. To her surprise, his fingers tightened around her own. As if he didn't want to let go.

She glanced down at his hand where it gripped hers, and then up at his face.

"Sorry," he said. "I just… I haven't been touched in a long time. It's nice.""

Smut, fluff, flut, porn with feelings, post Crystal Venom, canon compliant

Reunited - bittergoldilocks

Before Shiro disappeared they had been at the beginning of a tentative relationship which had amounted to stolen kisses, secret meetings, hushed affections, and one adventurous encounter in a supply closet. When “Shiro”- the clone- had “returned”, Allura thought it was over. Not only did the meetings stop, eventually even the kind words did too. She had been devastated. And Shiro seemed to somehow understand this now.

Reunion sex, praise kink, crying, slight angst, Real Shiro, love confessions

Relinquish - @braincoins​

The Coalition's newest allies are annoying and picky and Allura's on the verge of losing her cool with them. Shiro steps in to give her a night away from responsibility and decision-making.

softdom!Shiro, oral sex, fingering, how to be sweet and loving while also fucking someone senseless, and also still be goofy dorks

She Still Pulls on Me - nayanroo ( @teslatricity​)

some nights, shiro can't sleep. on those nights, allura sets aside her crown.

Mention of nightmares, throne sex, shallura exchange

To the New Morning - babyfairy ( @babyfairybaekhyun​)

Morning showers are often Shiro’s favorite kind of showers.

PWP, smut, shower sex, fluff

Relaxing - head_and_heart

Shiro has an idea of how to help Allura relax after a long mission

Porn without plot, oral sex, vaginal fingering, sex, no excuse for this just smutty smut

Silk and Tongue - Meli_writes ( @meli-writes​)

“I have something in mind that I think you’ll enjoy, want to try it?,” he asked her again. She was flushed and her pink body marks glowed a little brighter from her arousal.

“What did you have in mind because I kind of like it here,” she said while she rocked her hips to grind against him.

He smirked and brought his hands to rest on her hips. “I like you there too, but I was thinking you might like doing that against my mouth,” he said.

Allura’s hips stopped, but Shiro noticed her breath quicken in excitement.

Pure smut, silk robes, hungry licks, porn without plot, Allura tries something new, shameless smut

Galaxies Collide - @smolsarcasticraspberry​

Shiro and Allura take a joyride in the Black Lion. IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Mind Link AU, flut, smut, some plot, dom Shiro, not super dom, but like a lil bit, soft dom Shiro, they’re gonna bang in the Black lion okay, it was inevitable

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Please support these lovely writers and give them some kudos and a comment! I actually discovered a lot of fics I haven’t gotten around to fully reading yet, so I need to go back and do the same! Thanks for the lovely fics, guys! <3