#sorry i literally couldn't bring myself to do any of the sad moments

[milquetoast27]

more gifs <333

[the-present-is-a-gift-au]

Chapter 35: In Which Twig Falls Apart

Of course she crossed paths with Darkrai while out on her walk. He wasn't just some hazy presence in the shadows of the forest, either— he was visible as any tree or fern on the trail, hands clasped and subtly wringing ever so slightly as he stood off to the side of the path. He perked up when he saw her, and she immediately turned on her heel and made for home. 

“Twig, if I may have a word—” he began. 

“Nope. Not in the mood to deal with you right now, sorry man.” 

“You’ve been worrying me. I am not fool enough to turn a blind eye to how you carry yourself or how you behave when faced with danger. Will you not answer me and say if you are well? Truly?”

Twig stopped dead in her tracks as she registered just what he'd said. “Did you tell Kip to worry about me wanting to off myself?”

Silence. 

“Great. Great! Wonderful. I can't face him knowing that. Awesome.” She gritted her teeth and took in a long, slow breath. “Why'd you even care? Isn't that kind of the whole point, at least with your plan to rule a world of darkness or whatever? You wouldn't have to lift a finger if I did the deed myself, right—”

“My plans have changed significantly,” he said abruptly, cutting her off. “I find little appeal in ruling much of anything nowadays. The thought of you doing yourself harm is— it's— I take no pleasure in it. It's sickening to think of.”

That gave her pause. Maybe what Celebi said was true, then, if Darkrai wasn't plotting to take over the world again. She changed his mind. But no sooner had those four words entered her thoughts than a bitter sneer found its way onto her face. “I'm pretty sure it's not sickening to think about the world being a better place without me, but okay,” she grumbled. 

Darkrai's gaze snapped to her. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

She quirked a brow, looking him up and down. 

“I'm aware that I— I meant with your kinsfolk. I've witnessed your refusal to believe they carry affection for you like they would any other. You've convinced yourself that they're better off without you— I know it too well from what I've seen of your nightmares. Why?”

She squared her shoulders and shoved past him, calling over her shoulder as she turned back home on the path. “Because they are better off without me.”

“They aren't. Grovyle fears your death more than his own.”

She ignored the sting of tears in her eyes. “That's literally just Grovyle. He's like that with everybody. Even the mailman.”

“Celebi sees you as a family member worthy of any sacrifice necessary.”

“Celebi was willing to die to bring back a sunrise she wouldn't get to see. She's sacrificed it all already. It doesn't mean anything to give it up twice.”

“Dusknoir sees you as his own.”

“Dusknoir is everyone's weird wannabe-dad. I'm not special that way.”

“Kip is clearly—”

At the mention of her partner's name, Twig rounded on him. “Don't you dare say anything to me about how Kip is glad to be my friend, or he couldn't bear to live without me, or whatever garbage you're going to pull out next. I know that. I know he was shaking in his boots at every moment when we met. I know I changed that for him. But I also dragged him into my mess with— with almost getting him killed by Grovyle or Dusknoir or Dialga, and lying to him about me being erased from time because I didn't want to see him be sad about it, and dragging him around time and space with me until he wasn't able to evolve for years. Kip might need me, but he doesn't deserve me. He doesn't deserve the world's most lousy excuse of a person as a partner. He doesn't deserve someone who didn't want him to leave on his dream expedition for a couple years because she was scared of how she'd handle living on her own. He doesn't deserve—” Her voice broke, and she struggled to find the words she hated most to say. 

Darkrai watched her pityingly. Something in her ate that up— the fact she was being seen, and seen as something worthy of sympathy even in all of her wretchedness— and something else in her hated the fact that she was stirring up any sense of sadness in someone. That hatred fought hard to come out on top, but the hungry, sorrowful thing inside her lurked close to the surface. 

“Kip doesn't deserve someone who's as messed up as I am dragging him down,” she finally said. 

“I believe he'd beg to differ.” Darkrai’s wide-eyed, worried stare narrowed. “You seem to think very little of the people you call your closest allies, if you believe they bear no affection for you or act in ill-judgment if they do.”

Twig looked away, tears pricking at her eyes. “Shut up.” 

“Do you truly hold so little faith in their words when they say they wish you well?”

“I said, shut up—”

“Why do you act as though they hate you?” 

“Because they should!” Twig shouted. Darkrai flinched back at the ferocity in her words, and something about that made a shard of hurt lodged deep inside her stir with the urge to give chase. “Because I'm the worst thing that's ever happened to any of them! If it weren't for me, they'd be living happily and without a single worry, but they're not! Because of me! Because I'm stupid and selfish and can't get it through my thick skull that they're better off without me, so I hang around and hurt everyone even more than I did the last time I opened my mouth!” She threw her arms wide in a furious motion. “But apparently they're all too stupid to hate me themselves, so I'm the one who needs to hate myself enough that I stay in line and don't be such a useless burden that they realize I'm not worth keeping around!” 

Silence. 

Twig ground her teeth, torn between preening at the sorrowful look Darkrai was giving her or throttling him for giving her it in the first place. She returned her arms to her sides, balling her hands into fists, and turned to leave when a new voice caught her attention. 

“Do you really think that?” 

Twig looked up. 

Oh. There was Dusknoir, Celebi, Grovyle, and Kip— all standing just a ways off from her on the path. Apparently they came to check on her together. Apparently they overheard her spitting those awful things and spilling her guts, and now Grovyle wanted to know if it was the truth. 

She pursed her lips, considering her answer. “It’s true, isn’t it? I’m not… I’m not worth keeping around. I’m not…” Her face screwed up as she began to cry, unable to hold back her tears. “I’m not someone worth caring about, and it’s dumb to think that, but I can’t stop, and… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m being annoying, I’ll stop, just give me a minute—“

Grovyle stepped forward once, twice— put out his hand and then pulled it back, unsure of how to help despite feeling pulled to it. 

“How can I help?” He asked. 

Twig felt something raw and bloody in her gut itself to get the words out of her mouth. “… Could I have a hug?” 

He opened his arms. Twig met him halfway as he shakily stepped toward her, and she wrapped her arms around him in a numb sort of echo of what a hug should be. His hand trembled as he rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades, then tucked her head under his chin and pulled her closer. 

For the first time since that awful day her past crawled out of its grave and back into her head, another memory returned to Twig. This one was new, foreign in its familiarity and how well it felt like it fit in an empty place in her chest.

(She was scared of the sableye running outside of their hiding spot in search of the trio of fugitives, unable to sleep for her terror at the thought of being discovered, and Grovyle held her like he was now. Twig had felt safe back then. Nothing scary could get her. Not while Grovyle was around. She fell asleep certain everything would be okay as long as they were together.)

Twig wept, then cried, then bawled. There were no words for her to say. What was there to be said? Right now, she had Grovyle to hold her as she wailed and sobbed like a little kid, and Kip rushing over to join the embrace. She didn't care if people were looking at her. She didn't care that Darkrai had vanished soon after everyone arrived and she didn't know where he disappeared to. Nothing mattered right now except for that raw, bloody, hurting thing inside her being washed clean by the tears she shed in her friends’ arms. 

Maybe she wasn't a burden. It didn't seem like you'd hold a burden like she was being held right now. It hurt to think about for too long— that raw thing inside her still sensitive and painful— but maybe she could sometime later. 

Much later. 

She still had so many more tears to shed, and it didn't seem like Grovyle or Kip were letting go of her any time soon.

[seiwas]

sel baby <3 !! if you don’t mind me asking, do you have any selfships you haven’t talked about? :0 and if not, who would be your top 3 favorite boys (or girls!) ever :3c hehe

sweet dilly, of course i don't mind at all!!! 🤍 thank you for asking me this!! (i have a lot to say abt it...)

to be honest, i don't actually ship myself with (most of) my faves! i think it's because i just really don't think i'd work out with them 😭 when i read/write stuff on them, i often envision a reader that i think would complement them a lot more/fulfill their needs at that moment (and that couldn't be me 😭 tho i wish it could be!)

that being said, i will try to answer your question as best as i can under this cut bc i'm pretty sure it'll be a lot 😭 i love too many of them!!

possible self-ships i haven't talked about:

iwaizumi hajime (hq): iwa is my fave hq char and is one of my top 3 fave boys :') probs the only one out of my faves that i can somewhat see myself with!! i like how dependable and no-fuss he is + just seems like an overall good guy!! (he and my bf also share so many similar features and they both love fitness and sports 😭)

kirishima eijirou (bnha): i have the biggest soft spot for kiri bc he's such a sweetheart!! he's my ideal boyfriend for real 😭 i think i need someone affectionate bc i'm not and he seems like he would be!! in every way possible 🥺

itadori yuuji (jjk): i feel like yuuji is just the jjk ver of kiri HJAFBha but also i'm very much into a best friends -> lovers typa beat and i feel like he fits it perfectly!! his personality seems like one i'd perfectly jive with (as a friend and eventually something more!) 😳

i'll be real here and say that i think i see myself w these boys bc my bf is literally a combination of all of them 😭 he has the personality of kiri and yuuji inside an iwa body 😭

some special mentions:

fushiguro megumi (jjk)

akaashi keiji (hq)

nanami kento (jjk)

i can see myself working out with the quiet boys too! i think they'd bring out parts of me that are a bit louder, friendlier, and brighter just to balance out our dynamic!! (also they're so pretty 😭) (there are also certain things only nanami can do that i won't find attractive with anyone else but him 😭)

my top 3 favourite boys are (in no order 😭)

gojo satoru (jjk): i'd never work out with gojo bc i just don't think it'd be healthy 😭 (we’d be an enemies to lovers for real i think 😭 i don’t think i’d be able to stand his ass 70% of the time) there are also certain parts of him that i don't have the patience for, but i love him for all his complexity! and his heart! :(

bakugo katsuki (bnha): i’d never ever get used to his tone 😭 like if he spoke to me the same way he spoke to everyone i think i'd fight him shdfasdf (another enemies to lovers 😭 maybe even exes to lovers too but he rlly has to change smth for it to work 😭) but!! i love him for, also, all his complexity! and where his heart is at too! it's really the ones with the conviction to do good and be good but do them in questionable ways...

iwaizumi hajime (hq): sometimes i think abt him and get sad bc he isn't real HAHAHAHAH

others that i love almost just as much:

todoroki shouto | midoriya izuku | aizawa shouta | oikawa tooru | kuroo tetsurou | miya atsumu | kageyama tobio

there's a whole bunch of reasons why i love them but don't think they'd work with me but this'll get too long alr 😭

i hope this answered your question, sweet dilly! i'm sorry this is probably WAAAY longer than what you expected omg but i love talking abt this bc i've thought abt it way too much... AHSBFah

[snnbnny]

Song stories; A concert six months from now by FINNEAS -> Let's fall in love for the night by FINNEAS cw: angst, the miya divide, break ups, random oc that you will never see again, we stand Ooim and Samu, this is kinda a mean tsumu fic

"I'm sorry, ma'am- Mr. Miya said he doesn't wish to see you." The receptionist told you with a sympathetic look, you were more then familiar with Sasuke- if it was a year ago the two of you would be exchanging playful banter as you walk past the MSBY gym's front desk.

You gave the man a melancholy smile and placed two sheets of paper, "It's alright- just give him these please, for old time sake. Have a good day Sasuke." The receptionist only knew the rumor's but by the sight of you was enough to gather that those rumor's held some truth. Bags haunt your normally lively but now sad and exhausted eyes, you had lost weight and life both literally and physically, you looked like you had gone threw a wringer and was losing a battle with life.

He couldn't help himself but to look at what you left, there was a concert ticket to a band he had heard Atsumu Miya loved. Also on the desk was a note,

" I got these tickets gifted to me by someone who didn't know we had broken up, it didn't feel like it was something I should keep so I wished to give these to you- take who you want, should bring that girl you left me for. That's what I've deduced this down to anyways, it's not like I got an explanation.

I came home from visiting my sister to find OUR apartment barren of things of yours. Only hint of your existence was you waiting for me on the sofa, scrolling threw your phone like you weren't about to end my whole world. All you said was, "I can't do this anymore, you know I love ya- but this ain't workin'." You didn't let me speak, you just walked out. I thought we were good, sure we fought but I had never loved someone so fiercely. I'll go hungry and crazy and honest for you I don't always get angry but I'm promisin' to. Not past tense, present. Because despite it all I still love you Atsumu Miya, I never will not pine for you. Never not reach for you at night.

I have been having such a hard time without you, this year has been a blur of constant low points. I've been thinkin' too much and it's ruined my nights, and my days. Not to guilt you, of course. In the past we were always honest about our feelings, so here is my last confession: I've been in a constant state of depression and anxiety, it's been to much, my life has been ruined and even the moments where I'm ok because I can't let myself slide.

If I could see the future, I'd tell myself that you weren't worth it. I never would believe that though, I can't ever call you quits.

I'll wait for years, but I won't wait alone. And then someday you'll wait for my face on your phone.

Love, Y/N "

By the time Sasuke had read the letter over for the 7th time with tears clouding his eyes the jackel's practice was over and the players were coming threw together in order to go out as was the norm for Friday practice. Shoyo Hinata was leading the group with eagerness, telling the men behind him a story from his time in Argentina- until he noticed the dark haired receptionist distraught state.

"And the ball zoom's right into- Toge?? Dude are you ok?" The ginger rushed to the desk, almost impaling himself on the corner of the granite. The others are quick to follow in both confusion and concern.

To be honest Sasuke hadn't actually told Miya that you had showed up, following instructions he had been given by the jackal's captain when Miya had told him of the break up- Meian hadn't given any details but the staff all had their own, and mostly cruel towards you, theories. So Toge had thought it best to just go to the break room and come back before sending you off. Now both shame, guilt, and pity had settled into his stomach. It took the man to notice the pro's surrounding his desk eyeing him with different expressions.

Kiyoomi Sakusa gently took the piece of paper from Sasuke's hands while Oliver barns glanced over the tickets which sit where you had placed them. Sakusa quickly read the note, looked up at the receptionist with pure confusion before reading it again (this time with both Oliver Barns and Koutaro Bokuto reading over his strong shoulders. All three took different lengths of time to read the emotional note before looking up with the same processing expression towards Toge.

"I'm sorry guys, just a little overwhelmed by something nothing to worry about," the man behind the counter took the paper back from the three and spoke towards the others- trying to brush it off, unsure of how to proceed.

"Nothing my ass, just read whatever that is out to the class-" the blonde wing spiker teased before a now disgusted Kiyoomi cut him off.

"It's from, Y/N," the curly dark haired player took the paper once again and this time shoved it into Miya's broad chest.

...

You sat in Onigiri Miya sipping a perfect cup of coffee, you were disheveled and emotional when you visited the black jackal's gym- so you didn't blame the receptionist's pitying expression- but now you were wearing nice clothes, showered, and rejuvenated from the day's you had slept in the restaurants owner's apartment.

Speaking of him, he sits down across from you placing a plate of onigiri infront of you both. He wore a smile that warmed your healing heart, "You ok?"

"Yeah," you nodded, taking his calloused hands in yours. "I'm ok."

"Uhuh... eat somethin' doll before ya wither away to nothing." Osamu shoved the plate closer to you, glancing out the front window before looking back at you with a look of love. "I know better then to call ya mine, angel. But I can' help but to think m'brother's the dumbest motha'fuckr out there, cause I love ya. So gimme a chance, ya won' stay with me, I know. Bu' ya can have yer way with me 'til ya leave."

You stood up, making the man's heart drop until he felt you sit beside him and wrap yourself around him, "You have me, Samu. Took me way to long to become worthy of you, I'm sorry. But you've stood beside me, forgoing your own bond with your brother for me- which I'm also sorry for- What I'm saying is, I wish I could've met you before I was wrapped into Atsumu's web-"

No more words needed to be exchanged, you saw it on Osamu's face that he understood, confirmed by the chuckle he exhaled, "I love ya, but sometimes you talk to much for yer own good. Love when ya talk that nerdy shit, though."

"Ass," You kissed him, stole his breathe away and sucked it into your own lungs. He tasted of home and onigiri, a taste you wish to savor for the rest of your life.

[litrouke-works]

January Postmortem

(I know this is a Goncharov blog now, but i ought to wrap up my IFComp entry, I guess. Here are some of my thoughts on the game.)

THE SHORT VERSION

I’m not very good at saying things directly; I prefer to dress them up in stories and let people make of the anecdotes what they will. So we’ll open this postmortem with one such story.

Once upon a time, many bad things happened to me. When I was telling my friend about one of them, she said, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” And me being me, I replied, “Do you mind using a different phrase? Maybe, I’m sorry you had to deal with that or I’m sorry you went through that or wow that sucks – any of those would be fine.”

I’m aware that I’m not the hero of anyone’s story. But even if I’m not the hero, at least let me be the protagonist of my life. Let me deal with things; let me endure things; let me go through them. Don’t let them happen to me as if I’m already stretched out decaying in the ground.

And that’s pretty much all there is to the game. Could’ve saved myself a lot of hours by writing that instead! So thanks for reading, and as a special reward, here’s my playlist for January. Once again, me being me, it’s a playlist of poetry, not music. 😊 Enjoy!

THE LONG VERSION

Before we get into the meat of it, a clarification: I’ll use January to refer to the work as a whole (which I will also call a story, a game, a thing, whatever) and January to refer to the protagonist.

Also warnings for spoilers and for very frank discussions of suicide, gore, bodily functions, vulgar language, etc.

So January’s story has been kicking around in my head for some time, maybe 3-5 years, but I couldn't find a good reason to share it with other people. It was just another apocalyptic story about some sad guy, a genre woefully oversaturated and out of vogue even five years ago. Some of the scenes survived from early drafts nearly verbatim (including the opening line, which has never changed), but most did not. For example, in the canonical version of the story (yes, my personal canon is different from my published canon), January finds a dog as well, who is a perfect delight. But Dog’s arrival botched the pacing of the story and sweetened the scenes too much, so she had to be cut.

Anyway, while I was nudging the idea of January’s story around in my mind, two things happened. First, I was working on a research project about how people cope with major life shifts, especially illness, via storytelling and the re-imagination of self through narrative [see: The Wounded Storyteller by Arthur Frank]. And second, the many aforementioned bad things happened to me. Between my own experiences and the narrative theories I was studying, I felt that I could do something meaningful with January’s story. I wanted to use interactive fiction to show the linkage between moments across time and between the internal and external self, in ways that linear prose can't.

As a result, I think of the story as functioning on three-ish levels.

Level One

First, there is the literal plot. As many reviewers noted, this is the least important of the three. Guy survives apocalypse; his brother and sister-in-law get infected; he feels mortally responsible for their deaths, but can’t quite bring himself to commit suicide; he spends the next year working through the guilt and grief; he adopts Cat along the way; eventually he returns to the other survivors and resolves to stay alive for now.

Happy to answer specific questions about the plot, if folks are curious! But I won’t bog us down with details here.

Level Two

Second, there is the meta plot. As mentioned above, January is a story about storytelling, or more precisely, it is a story about how autobiographical storytelling assists in reforming the concept of self after a major life rupture. Hence the epigraph of the game:

One of story's primary purposes is to lay claim to experience. Autobiographical storytelling can take personal experience back from silence, shame, fear, or oblivion. It says, "I cherish this" or "This haunts me."

It asserts the significance of events in one's life: "This happened to me." "I did this." "This is part of who I am." "This should not or will not disappear, and I act to preserve it by turning it to words and shaping them as story."

Initially this concept was going to be more, let’s say, heavy-handed. More explicit, with four+ versions of each scene involving revisions, removals, and additions of commentary from January as he gradually shook off the coma of grief and refashioned the telling of each scene to better suit his new sense of self.

For various reasons: no. This plan was not only logistically unsound, but also narratively questionable because January did not want to speak for most of the story; he certainly did not want to add cutesy notes to the detritus of his life. So I aimed to unfold the concept in a more natural way, with descriptions progressing from abstracted, painfully detailed and impersonal landscapes, to a more natural flow of action and commentary, to casual cussing and chattiness with the cat, and finally to first-person POV.

Not that it is an entirely linear progression. The narrative—the narrator—the author—all of us argue constantly and intertextually with each other about what should be kept in the story, about what “should not or will not disappear.” Indeed, there were many times that I continued to work on the game only because I promised myself that I'd delete it all when I was done, once I had properly excised this from myself.

I finally managed to counter that argument with, “Well, but what if someone else benefits from it?” I find comfort in consuming media about suicide when I feel that way, and there’s a separate essay here about normalizing and validating mental health struggles, but let’s table that one for now. But knowing how I appreciate that kind of media myself, it seemed petty, if not outright unkind, to refuse to share January.

That particular arguments comes through, for example, in the post-POV-shift train scene. January relates how he peeled the dying woman off the frozen train and wrapped her in a tarp "just in case" she changes her mind, as he did. The woman is, by all accounts, a half-corpse already and actively being devoured by an omen of death, but until you are sitting there feeling yourself die, you don’t know, I promise you, you don’t know whether you will change your mind. And far be it from him to decide for her—so here is the tarp, here is the story. Do with it what you will.

This concept also crystallizes in the final pre-POV-shift scene and the POV shift itself. As January falls ill with fever, he has a nightmarish remembrance from his childhood, opening with, “In the story he told himself about his life, death found him one night…” It’s one of the more inelegant phrases in the game, in the story he told himself about his life, but it’s exactly how it needed to be said. Every scene that has been presented to the reader is part of the story that January tells himself about his life. What you read was not his life. It was not even a factual attempt to recount his life; it is only the version(s) of the story that he chooses to tell himself.

This is critical, both to the reader and to January, and he tries to stress to us the fictionality of his account, many times, in many ways. He says that he cannot have slept for multiple days after the fever and the dream of drinking from the bowl of stars with Cat; he cannot have survived his initial suicide attempt in the parking lot; he should not have heard gunshots by the sisters’ house without glimpsing his pursuer or attracting zombies; he should have smelled the hanged man rotting; he should have noticed the presence of the little girl in the dogtrot house sooner, or she should’ve already been dead. And of course, he should have killed himself after they died. (And probably a cat shouldn’t be able to speak to him or understand him.)

Guilt and grief contribute to the instability of his account, but they don’t fully explain it. I do not want to pitch this as an unreliable narrator whose memories are wracked by trauma—quite the opposite. Rather than treating memories as sacred truths that should (or even could) be accurate, memories in January are tools of self-examination, things to be laid out and sifted through in an effort to process trauma. If the memories need to be reworked, details fudged, inconsistencies introduced, in order to make them fit better into his new self, all the better. There’s no one left alive to tell him that he’s remembering things wrong anyway.

(Sidenote: as someone who tends toward SDAM, I have a pretty irreverent view of memories. And I know that the memories I do have are factually inaccurate. I know this because I transitioned genders in adulthood, and yet all my childhood memories have been revised to fit my real gender, not the one I mistakenly happened to be as a child. In my memories, people always call me by the right name, even though that name didn’t exist twenty years ago.)

I want to highlight one more example of revisionary self-history in January that does not involve the POV shift. In the second scene of the game, in which January explores the dogtrot house, he describes the pain of his bruised ankle thus: “He breathed through the red. He imagined the bruise oozing through his sock like an open wound, dyeing the wool a deep, mashed, mulberry purple.”

Many months later, after January mercy-kills the hanged man, he describes the scene thus: “Red spilled from its neck. Pure blood red, not bilious or spoilt-black. From the collar of his shirt up to his chin, the man's neck was mashed mulberry with deep bruises, and these must have continued into his face, but he could not see the face now and did not want to remember.”

To the reader, chronologically the ankle description comes first. But this is a narrative illusion. Everything in the game has already happened by the time the first scene loads. Thus, when we read the earliest scenes, we have to view them through the lens of the later ones—that is, January himself views his earlier memories through the lens of later events, as all humans do. To be specific, when January tries to think of how to describe his bruised ankle, his mind twitches back to the morbid sight of the hanged man’s throat (that he “did not want to remember” but that insists on being remembered anyway), and he uses that real event as a blueprint to imagine how his pain might appear.

A couple reviewers asked why anyone would bother to read the scenes out of order. I think this is the heart of the answer—because in January’s mind, the scenes do not proceed in order of chronology, they proceed in order of random association, just as you might remember a pair of birthday parties from when you were twenty and when you were twelve. The memories/scenes float together in a pool of associations. They gossip and converse with each other, stealing descriptions, reusing phrases, imprinting later images on earlier events, and referencing later events that the reader hasn’t experienced yet, although January has. Accessing them out of order opens the door to serendipitous connections between descriptions and better reflects the sensation of remembrance, I think—but as we’ve covered, I have a pretty weird memory system, so take that with a grain of salt.

I swear we are almost done with this section. LAST THING, I do want to address the POV shift directly. There is something very me about writing a story obsessed with agency while refusing to give the reader any. Sorry! But this goes back to the fact that January is telling himself this story. He is not telling it to you, you are not a character or an actor here, and so your agency is largely non-existent and unimportant. What matters is January waking up, re-becoming the protagonist of his own story, and eventually claiming ownership of it via the POV shift. I think this is the most obvious part of the game to grasp, so I won’t dwell on it any longer. 😊

Or will I. (Yes, I wrote this section at 1:45am, how can you tell.)

Level Three

So we have the basic plot, we have the meta plot, and now we have… let’s call it, the personal plot, as the third layer of this shitcake. We are now stepping completely outside the narrative/the narrator and into my little brain.

Earlier I mentioned that I was researching how people use stories to cope, especially in the context of illness. Let us use “illness” very broadly to mean “disruptive health event,” anything from a severe injury to the development of a disability to a cancer diagnosis to mental health issues to chronic pain conditions to et cetera. In short, something that fucks you up.

Let us now imagine that many of the bad things that happened to me can be counted as “illness” and that they did fuck me up. Finally, let us allow the author to project their own grief and recovery process onto the two previous levels of plot. Et voila, we have a personal disability plot hiding in the game the whole time.

I don’t want to say too much about this, because one, it is quite personal, two, I don’t want it to affect other people’s readings of January–I don’t want to impose this as the “right” reading, and three, there’s so much overlap between this and the previous section that not much more needs to be said. We are still dealing with a life disruption, a loss of sense of self, an adriftness, a feeling of one’s life traveling on without you, of things Happening to You, a painful self-examination and reconstruction of a new self, and finally an ascent to some kind of agency.

The one thing I do want to highlight in terms of an illness/disability reading is the motif of eating that runs throughout January. Healthy folks may not immediately connect eating to illness, but boy howdy, are they intertwined. Eating is a nightmare for almost any kind of severe health condition. For example: you get the nausea and vomiting from chemo, you get the constipation from pain meds, you get your body trying to self-destruct via diabetes or celiac if you eat this or don’t eat it or eat too much or too little, you get a ravenous appetite from the mood swings, you get your appetite killed by stimulants, you are spitting up acid, you are shitting liquid, your fork won’t stop shaking, and you can’t get the food to your mouth. And so on.

Eating is such a fascinating, multi-valent concept in fiction. In this game alone, it encompasses the zombies’ unrelenting, deranged voraciousness and the tender little sight of January choking down kibble so that Cat feels safe enough to eat with him and the anxious morbidity of January insisting that Cat eat him after he dies. Which is to say, there are so many ways to read the concept of eating, but I’ll limit myself to commenting on it from this angle.

The first several scenes frame food within frustration: it is a necessity (January forces down the kibble in the dogtrot house, thinking of it strictly as “sustenance”), it is a repulsion (the charred meat in the train scene, mostly likely human flesh; the guilty dwelling on meat after the bird dream), and it is a thing-to-be-earned (the mangy cat doesn’t deserve kibble, January remarks, but we get the sense that maybe January doesn’t feel like he deserves it either). Ultimately, food and eating are symptoms of being alive, and that is anathema to January in the early game. Each meal forces him to recognize how hard he is working to stay alive despite the feeling that he ought to be dead. It’s a slap in the face.

In the mid-game, eating/surviving becomes something more rote, still unpleasant but not as guilt-wrought. January eats alongside Cat because that’s what they do. After Cat tries to feed him an oriole when he’s constipated and skipping meals, January later tries to return the favor by luring in a whole flock of birds for sick Cat to hunt. (Is it notable that both of their avian attempts to feed each other are failures?) Of course eating/surviving/being alive also runs the risk of being dead, as highlighted by the scene where Cat seems on the cusp of death after eating some plant he shouldn’t have. While pleading with Cat, January asks what he’s supposed to do with all the food he scavenged for Cat—what is he supposed to do with all this effort at being alive, if it just comes to this again? And the thing is, it will always come to this. All the living in the world will always come to death. This is the heart of January’s own near-death scene, in the next month, when he sees a gray sky full of ghosts and declares “there was no hope in it.” There’s no particular sunburst of revelation after the fever dream, just a realization that he’s still hungry and still alive and that Cat will sit and wait until January’s ready to eat with him.

(Ah, the bowl of stars that he drinks from. That image/phrase is a direct rip from a very famous horror novel, and if anyone can name it, one free cat cuddle to you! [Must supply your own cat.])

I could pick at more details, but you get the gist here. A last note on illness/disability: I didn’t really get into the horror genre until I was unwell, and then I used horror movies both to escape from pain and to realize the pain, to watch someone else suffer and nod from my seat and say, That’s it! That’s it, that’s what’s inside me. You all can see it too, now. Apocalyptic settings are a bit different, but related—it’s not so much about the pain and fear made manifest as the loss. Becoming disabled is very much a private apocalypse. Swaths of society are lost to you. You cannot go there; you cannot participate in the thing; you cannot create what you used to. Please don’t take this as an invitation to debate inclusivity measures—just believe me for a second when I say some doors are closed, and there is nothing you can do but accept it and find a new door to open.

January doesn’t spend very much time lamenting what’s been lost, not in tangible terms like missing pizza or electricity. In fact, he regularly refuses to engage with the remaining shreds of civilization. He’s not comfortable staying inside the apartment of the woman with the painted nails, nor entering the cottage in the garden, and though he makes some allusions to camping in houses from time to time, this is never shown on screen. He only tells us about sleeping outside in his tent. So, we might say that he copes with the apocalyptic loss of society by rejecting any desire to reconstruct it. Instead he forms his own routines, as many disabled people do.

A favorite scene for many reviewers was a short one in which January gives new names to the flowers he doesn’t recognize. Loss perfuses this scene, but so does freedom—the realization that you can shed what was lost and reconfigure what still exists. The flower scene presents a tidy bow, I think, on top of the messy package that is illness, grief, trauma, and autobiographical reality rewritten.

Thanks

Finally, some thanks. Thanks to Sjoerd for teaching me how to use TweeGo, huge huge thanks to Eli (@addictivities) for working with me on producing the art for the game, thanks to @agnesmontague for getting me started thinking about this postmortem, thanks to all who read January, and thanks to those who attempted to read it and said “absolutely fucking not” for their own well-being.

I’m still completely gobsmacked about placing in the top ten, and I really appreciate all the feedback that folks have given me, both publicly and privately. Take care of yourselves, everybody, and if you ever want to talk through stuff, feel free to reach out. <3

[its-my-whump]

Whumptober 31 End?

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Hummingbird 31

(All the TWs still apply: emotional whump, gore, confusion, drugged, despair, aftermath of self-harm.

Have to admit, over my personal journey throughout whumptober I had to realise I'm actually a creep. I didn't know, that I could tap into this genre of a creepy, manipulating, lying, emotional disfuncting whumper and that I do like to write about it sooo much.

Apparently I'm a creep, creeping myself out for being this creepy, that's just mad and y'know creepy.

For what it's worth. I'm sorry, Sam! Thankyou for reading, reblogging and liking. I hope you had some fun! So enough blabbering for now, please enjoy.)

Whole story starts here, if you like / previous

...

Only very shallow, but Sam was still breathing when Grey pressed his slack form into a bridal carry against his own chest and made long brisk steps into the ER.

Grey was sitting alone in the hallway. He couldn't share the waitingroom with all these desasterous creatures. This was about his hummingbird. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, not constantly interruped by someone grabbing for a tissue, someone else clearing their throat, a child rustling a sweetswrapper, a toddler crying.

There was still a slight red shimmer under his own fingernails and inbetween the skin folds on his hands. He literally wasn't able to clean his hands from the blood of his little precious mess.

This was his fault. He was selfish. Caging his hummingbird, as delecate as he was, cutting his wings and then he let just him fade as a pink. Unintended, but that wasn't narrowing his guilt. For all he cared, it was fueling it.

The man was staring into a cup of coffee. The taste of it was as blend as his emotions. The former Doc Monty wanted to throw that ugly stuff against the wall.

He wanted to smag his boy for doing this to him and than he wanted to wrap him in an embrace and never let go. His eyes felt wet.

Someone settle on the chair beside him. It was a young nurse. She mimicked his posture and leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees.

"He's in good hands." Her voice was sincere.

Grey swallowed, he turned the cup between his long fingers. Suddenly, it felt too heavy, he was afraid, he would drop it at any moment.

And then, finally a part of his burdon unleashed.

"You know, he's got a recently discovered heartcondition above all. But his psychosis, he's got for almost all his life. His mother married again and his stepfather... was a cruel individual and..." Grey made a pause, his shoulders shrugged in an attempt to finish that sentence, but he didn't. The nurse, Angela her name tag said, just looked at him, giving him the time he needed.

"Over the last year, he was so lost, he was constantly lashing out, couldn't cope. He needed to be sedated so often. But I just can't bring myself to put him into an institution...

He's still my... don't tell him, I said it out loud. He's still my little hummingbird." A smile in his distant eyes. Then his tone was clogged all of a sudden. "He is my responsibility. He needs me and I must confess, just as bad, I need him too."

Grey's eyes turned glazy and he gave her an apologetic look and a sad smile from the side, placing the cup of digusting brown liquid on the floor between his feet.

"Hummingbird? That's a... nice nickname..." 'for a grown man!' she thought to herself confused. But Angela wouldn't show her confusion, keeping a professional, but yet sympathic face.

"Yeah, I call him my little hummingbird since he was a kid, despite he's a big boy now. He was always so alive. Scattering to and fro, never stayed still for a second. Then life caught up to him and I, ...I wasn't there to protect him. I will never forgive myself for that..." Grey brushed his own left hand over his face. "..., but I also will never forget, how full of life, free and happy he was then, he used to be. Fast as lightling, always chatting and moving, and still so delecate and fragil, just like a hummingbird. My hummingbird." His eyes had drifted away, lost in thought, his look fixated on an invisible spot at the floor.

"That's so sweet." The nurse couldn't help the funny feeling this man gave her. But his explanation, the changing expression around his eyes, the smile, when he talked about his kid being alive. She just knew his feelings were genuien. And she could actually feel it too, because she was a mother herself. Sometimes she was annoyed, but mostly more than happy for the sheer endless supply of energy her little girls threw at her day in and day out.

Grey was talking again, his voice low. He didn't move his eyes from that invisible spot. "Delecate and fragile he surely is, my little hummingbird. How could he..." Grey swallowed strained. His hands covered his face in a swift motion.

It was hard to compare that broken, sedated soul just being stitched together in surgery, ever being something more than a pale shell of the person he apparently used to be, Angela thought. She had seen his father bringing him in. A pale ghost covered in heaps of his own blood. She wanted to say something, show her understanding and sympathy, but she wouldn't know what. Just the thought of her girls getting broken by life as it happened, took her breath away.

"I'm sorry." Sheepishly Grey brushed some unshed tears away, lowered his hands again and gave her a heartly, but sad smile from the side by tilting his head a little.

"Sometimes I have hope. Then he can cope and is almost... almost normal. You know what I mean. His medication is really working, helping him. But then all starts anew. Trashing and swearing and...

His heartconditon has gotten worse and so his head was even more screwed, y'know. The worst part of it all." The man swallowed again, it seemed his face lost a bit of it color all of a sudden.

"He actualy thinks, I am some psycho who kidnapped him. Keeping him captive. He thinks, he's being drugged to comply. Which makes it so hard for him to understand, that he actually needs his medication. He thinks all his medical files are forged and we're not even related." The former doctor pulled his eyes from the floor again and looked back at the nurse.

"It's really hard sometimes... actually most of the time. But I just want him to be okay. To finally see the life, I'm trying to put out for him... But I guess, you can't always have what you want, right." His shoulders shrugged, as if his last statement was about a special treat that was out, when he wanted to buy it. There was some kind of resignation in the man's posture.

Angela was inwardly shocked by his whole story. She wasn't sure, if she had really surpressed that flinch, when it overtook her. "I'm so sorry." What should she say to something heartbreaking as a son thinking his own father to be a madman.

×

Sam startled awake. He had been roaming around, just under the rim of consciousness for days it felt, which had only been hours. Now he finally broke through the barrier. "Take it easy." A soothing hand on his arm. A small hand. It was a nurse, smiling at him. 'He was tired, oh was he tired.'

"Hey there. Nice to have you back, honey. Are you in any pain?" The young woman was still touching his arm with her soft fingertips.

His neck just very slightly shook his head in an unconscious answer without Sam's active participation. His head needed some time to put the pieces, thrown at him, together.

The presence of someone else than Grey was something new. Still his mind wasn't able to catch up.

"Whxc." Scratched out of his mouth silently. Next thing he knew, she held a cup with a straw towards his lips, he accepted thankfully. "Sounds scratchy." A genuien blink from her bright green eyes. "My name is Angela. I'm a nurse and you're at the hospital, honey."

Sam blinked confused himself. He was really exhausted, trying to move into a more comfortable position on the bed. His left arm felt heavy, like a bolder was attached to it, preventing him from lifting it even an inch. He was cold, but not in any real pain. Yet, his arm felt kind of tight and numb, like someone was trying to pull the skin away in different directions, until it would rip apart.

"Whaa-t happnd?" Sam supposed, he knew what happened, but his memory was probably playing him, though. Cause, he couldn't be in a hospital, but it defentily looked like one. The nurse had a real name tag, he couldn't read, if it actually said Angela, but it looked genuien for all he knew. 'Wasn't he supposed to be dead?'

Her sad smile was melting the walls of the drugged induced stupor, she was nervous and changed the subject. "The doctor will have a look at you real soon, he can explain, honey. Till then, someone's here to see you, if you're up to it?"

'Who? would be? No one knew he was here. Where ever here was? No one knew, he was in the fangs of a maniac, for, for godsake he didn't even knew how long.' Sam wanted to tell her. He wanted to spill it all, but he was just too tired. Maybe, it all was but a dream, a nightmere to be precise. Maybe, he never left work, because he was pinned under a bolder or that cart never had missed him?* His head was foggy, as so often in the (recent?) past? "Who?" slipped over his heavy tongue.

"Your Dad." Her smile burned itself inside his soul. 'He... he had no Dad. Never had, never would... so who...?"

Their eyes locked, when Grey stepped into the room. Panic flared up. Sam's weak body jolted. The static beating in the background, he hadn't even really noticed before, because it had been lolling him into a soothing fog of warmth, rose to a hectic cacophony of unbearable noises.

"No no no no no. That's not. No." Sam's head shook frantically. He tried to get away, his left arm wouldn't cooperate. He ripped up his right from the bedding, but it was stopped forcefully. Shocked he stared at a thick leather cuff, binding it to the bedframe. A cuff, that almost looked like the one's Grey used to chain him to floor and ceiling. Uncomprehending his wide eyes looked up again, never understanding hospital policy and the more harming intention of preventing him from repeating the course of action, that had let him here.

"Wha...? why?" Pure and utter panic took a hold of him. He was struggling like a maniac, despite his blood loss and weakness. 'All of this should be over. All of this should have never been real at al.' The strength to fight, only fueled by adrenaline resulting from his panic attack was draining him too fast.

Still, his heart just acted out completely, only short frantic gasped remained of his so vitally needed attempt to breathe in. "No no no. You can't... believe... a thing... he says. Please. That's...not...NOT my Dad. That's not..."

A heavy tingling sensation appeared out of nowhere and jumped at Sam like a landslide, just pulling him with. A bunch of people surrounded his bed all of a sudden, different voices, instruments, hands on him, while an invisible force tried to lure him into a warm blanket of darkness. It was all too much in his fragile state. The hammering pain in his chest kind of ebbed away and Sam willingly surrendered to oblivion.

The commotion faded away, like a fog disolving, people cleared the room after some time. The nice nurse gave Grey an apologetic and very sad look. Her lips forming a silent 'I'm sorry.' Afterwards her mournful eyes went to the floor. Her hand brushed over Grey's shoulder short but gently, than she left.

Sam was drugged out of his mind, his misery and consciousness again. A soothing hand in his hair, he couldn't feel. "Sssch. I got you, my little hummingbird. We'll get through this."

Days passed. And attending nurses, as well as the responsable doctor all worried about Sam's mental state, beside the actual certainty, that he was in desperate need of a pacemaker.

But he apparently couldn't comprehend and he wouldn't really step out of the hazy, disoriented and incoherent space, in which his mind seemed to be imprisoned.

The times, he was coming close to reality were hard on everyone. Between unconciouness, sleep and nightmeres, he tried to convince them, that he was actually a captive by the man, who was only imposing as his father.

It was highly unsettling, but every other reassuring look at his records confirmed, that unfortunately the his head really wasn't screwed on right. A sobbed and hardly audible statement, that kind of sounded like “I thought I was getting better.” from his part in a semi-conscious state only backed up the cruel reality. Had anyone listen closly, it had sounded more, like a desperate wish for 'I thought, IT was getting better'.

And yet, nurse Angela couldn't shake this ichty feeling 'his Dad' gave her. Or seeing the fear in this young man's eyes, whenever he was alert enough, to have some part in their reality.

×

The nurse was anxious. She kept the chart tight to her chest, not for anyone to see. This was really bad. She had paged Dr. Warron, but he was kept by another patient for now.

When he finally made his way down the corridor towards the nursing station seversl minutes later, she practically jumped out of her chair and all but flew over to him. Angela grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest storage room. "Angy, what do you..." "DOCTOR!" She forcefully interrupted him. "I believe, the young man is right and really being held hostage by the man calling himself his father." She was excited and nervous, but Warron wanted to block every attempt. "Angy, we've been through this. Your gut telling you, you don't like his old man, is not a clinical expertise for a mental case."

"Something doesn't add up, doctor. The 'kid' is here about a week now and his toxscreen is through the roof. Look at this. All these substances shouldn't be in his blood. Actually these combinations shouldn't be in anyone's blood. When he came in, okay, but neither of us had adminstered these drugs, look." She practically shoved the chart into his face.

It was something the the yoing man had said to her, she just couldn't dodge. It was running circles in her mind. He had been almost out of it again, but his pale cuffed hand had drilled itself into her coat and he had whispered into her ear, on one of those few moments, 'his Dad' wasn't nearby for once. "Please, compare our bloodtyps. He's lying. We can't be related. Pleas..." There were tears welding up in his eyes, but they were interrupted by that man entering again, letting waves of uncertanty flare up around Angela.

Dr. Warron studied the lap results, his expression darkened. "There's also something about their bloodtyps the kid said to me." Angela added. The doctor looked at her. His demeanor had changed, professionalsm and couriosity clearly shown in his face now, erasing the doubt.

"They wouldn't match. The kid's got 0-. But I couldn't get any information from "the father" (she made quotation marks in the air) "without raising any suspensions." An understanding nod was Warrons answer.

"I want someone with him at all times from now on. He's not to he left alone with that man anymore, who is apparently drugging him up under our noses. Call the authorities and I will have to make some calls regarding his medical records, his pretended father so openly provided. Dammit." His big hand squeezed her shoulder. "Good job, Angela. Thank you for being so stubborn."

They left the storage room and approached there taskes with brisked steps. Angela got hold of a collegue and was just about to explain, that said patient needed to be put under constant surveillance, when another nurse hectically made her way towards them. Her face was flushed, she was really upset. "He's gone."

Without any further explanation, Angela knew who was meant. She left her colleges standing and practically ran to the room, the 'suicidal boy' was supposed to be in, under the watchful eyes of his apparent father.

The room was empty, the bedding rumpled and a lonely cuff was chained to the frame of the bed, the other leatherstrap opened.

×

About 10 miles outside the city a tall man was steering his car towards the sunset. He was humming to himself. His big hand was bent behind the passagerseat. Long fingers ruffled through the young man's untamed hair. He was unconscious, laying on the backseat, his feet behind the driver, a thick white bandage around his left forarm sticking out under a blanket. The man behind the steering wheel took a quick last look to the back.

"No worries my little hummingbird. I'll find us a new home. Just you and me."

His hand slowly pulled away, his attention back to the road. He was humming again.

The End...?

Hummingbird masterlist

@whumptober-archive

[raggedy-dxctor]

vampire izzy headcanons

ofmd x wwdits brainrot produced this enjoy xx

pairing(s): vampire!izzy hands x reader

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, mentions of defanging, but none actually takes place, mentions od reader being in pain

well stumbling upon a vessel of vampires was definitely. an experience and to add to it the most grouchy of the immortal crew saved your life?? defending you with every ounce of his being from his originally blood thirsty and hostile crew mates?

honestly he's so tender and caring like. to the crew he's the stereotypical cruel and cold hearted vampire, but to you?? he's literally the most caring and loyal person ever

you'd literally never feel unsafe around him. sure he could literally kill you and drain you of your blood right on the spot, but he vowed to you that he'll keep you safe

i feel like he's offered to defang himself for you on multiple occasions

"y/n are you. scared of me? bec4if so i can rip these out! to make you feel more safe!" "izzy, no, please don't do that it's not necessary im not scared of you!" "hey y/n as ive said i'd defang myself in a he-" "don't you dare. i trust you izzy, i promise"

honestly just hearing that you trust him makes him fall for you on a whole new level like he thought he couldn't fall any harder, but in that moment he's completely head over heels. "t-tha k you y/n, truly" he just grabs your hands and places them on his chest, where a heartbeat used to be and grins at you, showing his fangs as his cheeks dust a slight tint of pink

i feel like he really hasn't been a vampire for long, probably like ten years, so he's still pretty in touch with society and stuff but he just loves to hear you talk so he lets you ramble on about wl what's happened over the past ten years and acts completely oblivious

"izzy? why the fuck are you acting as if you don't know that? you ranted about that to ke with the sake passionate firey anger nine ye-" izzy just elbows ed in the stomach and gives him an expression that just says 'shit the fuck up', his eye twitching slightly as he masks the death glare he's almost giving him

i don't think he'd be a big fan of the idea of turning you to he honest

""y/n, you have to understand, vampirism is not something that you should look fondly on" befofe your relationship vs "y/n daring. id love nothing more than to be with you for eternity, but vampirism id a curse!" as you're in a relationship. he just gently places a cold hand on your cheek and strokes it slightly, giving you a sad smile as you press his hand further into your cheek and bring it towards your lips, kissing his ring and his knuckle before looking into his eyes and gently smiling. "i understand what you're saying iz, you don't have to turn me if you don't want to" you promise and he lets out a sugh of relief, leaning in to kiss you gently.

after non stop thinking about it he decides he'll turn you, but very reluctantly and even as he's telling you that he'll be happy to turn you, you're reassuring him that if it's not something he wants to do then he absolutely does not even have to consider it. but he just stips your rambling by placing a hand on your cheek and turning your head towards him. "i want to. if you're ok with being turned then i want to spend the rest of my life with you" as he looks into your eyes earnestly, which are filled witj curiosity, adoration and excitement

the moment when he turns you is so. special. so intimate??? like. "this is going to hurt im so sorry, but the pain will pass. i'll be here every moment of every hour for you" you nod as him and smile, kissing him for the final time as a human "slight pain is nothing if o get to spend eternity with you"

im not gonna lie, it's probably fucking agony. but true to his word izzy does not lave your side for your entire transformation. you ask him whu afterward and he just shrugs, cuddling closer to you as he places his head ontop of yours. "i wish i had someone there for me, i went through it aand i would never wish that upon anyone, lus i love you so" his hand finds tours and entangles your fingers, the other hanging off the top of the sofa as he lets out a contented sigh. "im so sorry, i wish i could've been there all those years ago, i love you too iz" he smiles, kisses the top of your head, squeezes your hand and lies his head back down. moments later you hear soft snoring coming from him.

honestly the absolute best thing to do is go flying with him in bat form like??? imagine flyimg with him, side by side over the ocean, no one to disturb you as you chase eachother through the night

[vannybarber]

The Prenup

Summary: After four years of being together and finally being engaged, Chris wants you to sign a prenup.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, chris getting his ass handed to him, a lot of pain.

Part Two Part Three Part Four Final Chapter

Scrounging through the little desk in the corner of Chris and you's bedroom, you hear him let out a boisterous laugh.

He was watching some movie and there was a certain part that he found so hilarious. After 4 years of watching it with him constantly, you still don't get what's so funny. But it makes him happy so that's what matters.

You were searching for the wine opener so Scott could get his middle-aged-4-kids-divorcee vibe on. You cleaned the other day and stuck it in there after a nightly dose of freakydeaky from Chris, which consisted of wine, whipped cream, and a many different forms of chocolate.

After what seemed like forever, you find the corkscrew and grin at your accomplishment. You take one more look in the drawer out of habit and you spot a big orange envelope with Chris' name on it. Being the nosy curious person you are, you take the envelope out and get a good look at it. You see the words Prenuptial Agreement in bold and your heart drops.

Chris had proposed to you 9 months ago and you were happy beyond words. After being together for 4 years, he finally put away his commitment troubles and made you his fianceé. And now you find out he's going to get you to sign a prenup. A fucking prenup.

You look around the room at loss for words. You were angry, hurt and confused. After 4 years of being together, he doesn't have faith in his own judgment that you guys would be together forever? You both have been through literally everything. There isn't one thing you don't know about each other. Your relationship was rare and it was special.

After moments of contemplation, you decide you would confront him on it. There's no way you could carry on the night and sleep after this. Not until you get your answers. Closing the drawer, you take a sharp breath and exhale before walking out the room. You get back to the dining table where Lisa and his siblings surrounded.

"Here you go Scott" you say slamming the corkscrew on the table in front of him. He looks up at you, puzzled. You glance at him then at Chris and he's looking at you just the same. Evidently your tone matched your movements because everyone went silent. You draw back and put both hands behind your back and huff.

"Babe, are you alright?" It was Christopher talking to you now. Your attention goes to him and your lips are in a thin line. Refraining from blowing up at him, you force smile on your face and change your tone of voice.

"What do you mean, honey? I'm fine." You should leave the acting to Chris honestly. That's definitely not your field of expertise. Shifting on your right foot, you stare at him. He shuffles and tilts his head with a knowing look.

"Spill it Y/N. What's up?"

"The flames when I burn this damn house down." So much for not blowing up. You snatch the envelope in front of you and chuck it on the table. Everyone watches the exchange and the envelope fly to the table. All their faces change from confusion to shock and even more confusion.

Chris didn't even need to look down to know it was the prenup. His eyes went from you to the wall. Guilt written all over it, you almost wish you gave a shit. You wonder how long he was going to keep this hidden from you. No need to wonder now.

"You want to explain to me why you have a prenup?" You place your hand on your hip and roll your neck at him.

"I got that for us."

You swear to everything you wanted to lunge at him right then and there. 'I got that for us'. Why do people always use that excuse for everything? They weren't thinking about you, just themselves and expected you to go along with it.

"You got it for us? I know you didn't do this on your own. Who put you up to it?" You look around the room. Scott has his hands up shaking his head. Carly and Shanna both let out a quiet "not me". You look at Lisa who had this look of hurt.

"Chris, you tell me everything. How did I not know about this? Why didn't you tell me?" Well now you know she didn't suggest it. You feel slightly guilty for letting it cross your mind, but you had your reasons.

"Ma, I had my reasons. I kept it hidden because I didn't know how I felt about it myself" he says rubbing his face and fixing his hair under his cap. Still didn't answer your question.

"Christopher, who put you up to this? Tell me now!" You're getting fired up by the minute. You have an idea who it could be too.

"Megan. She thought that it would be smart to consider. Just to protect me."

"Megan." Your voice is laced with absolute venom. "You know Chris, she does a good job keeping you out of trouble and bullshit so you're not all over the tabloids, but sometimes, her ass is too much!"

Chris is never in the news for anything negative. He's always minding his business and moving quietly. Megan is a great publicist, but she can be pretty overbearing about his personal life. She gave you side eye for like the entire first year of you guys' relationship.

"Baby, she was just looking out for me. You know how it is, women getting with you for your money. Guys loose half of everything they have when getting divorces."

You can't even believe it.

"I am not 'women'. I'm your fianceé. We've been together 4 years, Chris! After all this time your material things come before me?" Tears are puddled at your eyes now and your voice is cracking. This catches his attention.

"I told you from the start Chris, that I never cared about your money! Never have and never will. I am used to not having much. I'm not money hungry or concerned for having top tier everything. I've learned to settle."

"Y/N, I didn't mea-" you slam your hand on the table, making everyone jump. Chris shuts his mouth.

"I'm. Not. Finished. I am not marrying your bank account. I'm not marrying your cars. I'm not marrying your house. I don't give a damn about any of that shit. And you literally are still concerned about all of that?" Your face is wet and your nose is runny. You wipe your nose and cross your arms.

"It's not even like that!" Now he's getting upset. For literally nothing. This is his fault. "It's just in case it doesn't work out, we don't need to deal with all the extra mess."

That completely shattered you. In case it doesn't work out. He actually has thoughts that your marriage couldn't work. What would even cause that? You guys don't even argue. You don't even remember the last time you did. You've learned to understand what each other needs and mastered that. What is he on about?

"You know what the sad part is? Us not working out crossed my mind in, like, the first year of our relationship. And I decided that if we did get married, and God forbid we divorced, I wouldn't take anything from you."

He looked at you like he just found out he wasn't the father of your baby.

"Yeah, Chris. That's your money. You made it, not me, so why would I ask for any of it from you? You gave me an amazing relationship and thats enough for me."

"Oh my goodness." Everyone directs their attention to Scott. "So you wouldn't want anything from the divorce?"

"Of course not! I came in this relationship for him. Plus a make my own money. I don't need anyone else's."

You had your own business. Many employees at different buildings in Boston. You didn't have much growing up and you were proud of yourself for not having to worry about financial issues. Chris liked that you had your own thing going and didn't have to adapt to his life and depend on him financially. And he still got a prenup.

Feeling like you were gonna cry again, you rub your temples and take deep breaths to prevent it. But you failed and started crying more. Chris got up and moved to stand in front of you.

"Baby, I'm sorry I upset you. I thought you would be okay with this. Like you said, you don't care about my money so what's wrong with the prenup?" His hands were on your sides, but not for long as you shook them off of you.

"What's wrong with it? What this is telling me is three things. You have doubt that our marriage won't work out, you think I might change my mind and ask for alimony, and that your money comes before me."

"I..." he struggles to form words. You take this chance to get out of there.

"I really don't want to be here right now." Chris looks up and grabs your arm.

"Babe, you don't need to go. Where the hell are you gonna go?" You turn and grab the envelope from the table. You open it and pull the papers out, shoving it in his face.

"I'll go to a hotel or something, but I'm not staying here if this is the shit you're trying to pull with me." You turn the paper to you and look in disgust. You scan over it and your eyes fall on the dotted line where you need to sign. Beside it is where he needed to sign his.

Well not anymore.

You read over his signature on the line. Chris Evans.

He signed the prenup already. Now he was just waiting for your signature. He really was leaving you zero choice.

"You signed it already??" Everyone at the table head snapped up. Shanna gasped and covered her mouth. Lisa mumbles an "oh no" under her breath.

"So you were just going to bring it to me and expect me to sign it with no fight, huh?"

Chris says nothing, but his face is red. You don't wait for a response and walk to your shoes and your bag. Already having everything in there, you slip your shoes on and walk back to Chris.

"Just a heads up, you brought this on yourself."

You whip around and walk to the fireplace. You chuck the papers and envelope in the blaze and turn back to him.

"You can forget about that damn prenup, cause I'm not signing it. As a matter a fact, you don't even have to worry about that because there won't be a chance of us divorcing." You force a smile and clasp your hands together. Lisa and Scott rise from the table panicking.

"Babe, no-"

"Forget the wedding, this engagement and all of it. You can take this fucking ring too." You pry the ring off your fingers and throw it at him. It hits his chest and falls at his feet.

"I'm not marrying you."

You turn on your heel, grab your purse and jacket, walking out the door, leaving the Evans' speechless.

Was this too dramatic? I have my own opinions on a prenup, but maybe it's not as big as it seems? Idk🥴.

masterlist

[skiyoosmi]

post-break up heartaches

verse 1. in the car that used to drive us to our home

⤷ kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru — more characters coming soon

⤷ verse 2 | verse 3

⤷ play. never let me go by ghostly kisses, forget about us by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ KUROO sighs for the umpteenth time of the day. he was so fucking exhausted and his body's about to give in to sleep any moment now. work has been beating his ass; there was this newbie who kept on messing up the documents needed by the board and for the whole day, he had to be the one to fix said issues. it's not like he wasn't paid enough for that; if anything, his paycheck was one of the most beautiful things he laid his eyes on— but god, even his body has its own limits and yet...

"ya.... yer not supposed to do this anymore. y-ya left me, remember?" you slurred, index finger pointing right at his chest as he circled his arms around your waist, huffing as you practically dropped all your weight on him. here he was, suddenly given the task of having to take you home after your supposed-to-be designated driver, miya fucking atsumu, also drank his brains out with you.

"be patient. still heartbroken because of you, y'know?" kenma softly tells him despite the tipsy feeling lurking in the back of his mind, shaking his head as he looked at you, whose system finally shut down and were now dozing off in the black haired man's arms.

"..... still?" he mumbles, looking down at your figure and he feels his heart contract with pain all over again.

"you can't expect her to be fine immediately, kuroo. it was your wedding day, supposed to be the greatest day of her life and yet it became the worst one... you left her at the altar alone."

he didn't reply anything— or rather, he was unable to. because what can he say to refute the truth? nothing. instead, he proceeded to his car with you still in his hold. he places you on the passenger seat, locking the seatbelts before jogging to the driver's side.

the car ride was calm as you slept soundly with your head occasionally hitting the window lightly as it swayed from side to side. he was sure as hell that if you were sober right now, you wouldn't even have the thought of seeing him cross your mind. he just knows for sure that you despise him with your whole being... at least, that's what he thought until...

"i'm sorry, tetsu. please come back," you whimper in your seat, voice quiet but he heard it nonetheless, "tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it."

the pitiful sounds and mumbles you made struck kuroo right in the heart and which makes him pull over an empty but safe road, just a block away from your (previously shared) apartment. looking over your form, he finds himself reaching out to touch your face, caressing your cheeks as drops of tears fell down slowly on them, "you didn't do anything wrong. you were fine. you were so perfect."

you squint your eyes at him, probably wondering if this was real or just a part of your drunken imagination. nonetheless, you hiccuped, "y-you... you left me and i... i still can't even bring myself to hate you... i just wanna ask you why? i just want to understand."

he thought he also knew the reason why but every single time he thinks about it, he's only led to one conclusion: because he was a coward. no way was this any of your fault— it's definitely not your fault that right at that moment, as he stared at the mirror, wearing the black suit you chose for him, the sudden fear of commitment loomed over him. it's not like it was your fault he suddenly got scared of losing you the way his parents lost each other. but now he thinks it's ironic, because he lost you anyway.

maybe... just maybe, if he had just met you where you stood at the altar, instead of leaving you alone in it, maybe he would've been happier. maybe his days would've started more with a smile from you as you helped him fix his necktie before going to work. maybe, the working hours he spends in the shitty corporate world would've been more worth it if it meant he can come home to you at the end of the day. maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to be stuck with this lump in his throat as he wonders what could've been happening if he just chose to show up and vowed his life to you.

but he didn't.

"i realized i wasn't just ready to tie my life with anyone yet. that's all there is to it, yn."

so with a heavy feeling stuck in his chest and a quiet promise to never see you again for the sake of not hurting you further, he starts the car's engine again, ignoring the words you replied but he was sure they will haunt him for a very long time... again.

i can wait for you no matter how long it takes, tetsu, you know that.

⇢ OIKAWA gives you what seems like a guilty smile as he stands in front of you, opening his arms and gesturing you to come closer. but the stoic expression on your face takes him back to the reality that the last thing you wanted to do today was to actually fetch him from the airport. it just so happens that his three best friends were caught up with work that they had no choice but to send you, the main ex-bestfriend slash ex-girlfriend, to him.

why did you agree when you practically loathe him with your whole being? well, it was probably because you weren't the devil who would reject your friends when they were literally on their knees as they begged you and for some reason, you thought he'll look pitiful going back to his home country after five years with no one to welcome him. yeah, that's it. it's not like you're still in love with him or anything.

"my car's just around the corner," you begrudgingly walk towards the car park with him quietly following. at the moment, he knew better than to get on your nerves or else there would be war. he hates that this happened to the both of you but he can't blame anyone else but himself. because who wouldn't hate their ex-boyfriend if they suddenly broke up with them over a phone call?

tension filled the car as you both sat beside each other. perhaps, this was what other people were talking about when they say that it's impossible for exes to be friends again, to not feel any awkwardness because you were sure as hell that the word "awkward" was an understatement of your situation right now. nevertheless, your eyes couldn't help but wander to his figure as he adjusted his body, opting for a more comfortable position in the passenger's seat.

he looked more youthful and you felt bittersweet— proud that his whole aura screams of "success" which meant that gone were the days where he longed to get that winter cup trophy, nor the times when he overworked himself and put a strain on his knee which led to countless arguments with you. if anything, he looked happier and it sucks because you're not even close to feeling that way... not without him.

"i heard you've finally gotten yourself your own condominium? that's great, yn!" he exclaimed as soon as you began driving to your destination, a hope lit within him that maybe you might just respond to him. just one smile, that's all i need, he thinks.

but you remain focused on your driving, choosing to reply with a single nod and a soft "yeah..."

disappointment fills his heart as he faces the truth that your relationship has really been ruined, along with your friendship. all because he was foolish to think that he couldn't handle the physical distance between you two. realization dawns upon him that he just made that same distance worse as you pull your heart further away from him.

"... i actually bought it for the two of us, you know?" he whips his head to your direction in surprise, heart clenching as he watch you let out a sad chuckle, "i just... i thought it would be nice if we had a place to permanently stay at and for you to have a home to go to when you're at japan. but yeah... i guess things doesn't go our way sometimes, does it?"

"i'm sor—"

"it's okay. i'm fine now," you quickly reply, shaking your head but keeping your eyes on the road. he tries to ignore the tears that start to form in them because he has no right to stop them, knowing full well that he was the one who caused them in the first place.

as if on cue, you halt your vehicle in front of a familiar apartment and much to your dismay, you find yourself looking back in the past when you used to live in that same place, making wonderful memories with the chocolate haired lad with you. you clear your throat to stop the sob that desperately attempts to escape your throat, "uhm... we're here."

"oh, yeah. we're here," he numbly states, already missing you despite the mere inches of space separating the two of you. you just felt so far away and he hates it. but this was the path he chose so he gets out of your car along with his things, turning to you once more, "uhh... thanks for the ride, yn. i know you probably hate me but yeah... it's very nice of you to put that past us and i guess i just want to say sorry for hurting you... i just..."

"i don't hate you, tooru," you softly tell him, "i just don't want anything to do with you anymore. to see you this happy, without me, is like a slap in the face because i'm not. it still hurts and i'm not fine. i just hope this will be the last time we'll see each other. be safe on your trip back to argentina. welcome home."

and with that, you start the car's engine again, no longer having the energy nor the strength to hear his reply. but he wishes you did because as he watches your car drive further away from him, he can't help but wish that he can take back time so that you don't have to go to that condominium and instead, go inside the home you once shared with him.

but i'm not happy, yn. because how could i call this place my home when you're not here with me?

at that moment, unbeknownst to the two hearts that long for each other break at the same time, you finally let out the tears and cries that you've been keeping since you saw him, knowing that no matter how much you try, you'll never be as happy as you were with him— simply because he left you with a hole in your heart that no one else can fill.

© SKIYOOSMI, 2021. reposting, translating, editing, copying and any kind of plagiarism are strictly prohibited, thank you.

[ichigoromi]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐈𝐓 | 𝐌𝐒𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 | 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

GUYS AND GIRLS AND MY NON-BINARY MATES! IT'S OKAY TO STOP WHENEVER YOU WANT. DO NOT FEEL OBLIGATED TO CONTINUE JUST BECAUSE YOUR PARTNER WANTS. CONSENT IS BOTH WAYS.

Okay, yeah, I just want to put that out because I've seen some of my acquaintances or heard stories going through some traumatic shit because they weren't ready but were forced to go through it.

Pairing (s): MSBY Four — Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shoyo, Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem! reader, all characters are aged up!

Genre: romance, fluff

Warning (s): mentions of sex, pre-marital sex, suggestive themes, toxic friends, peer pressure, sexual assault not suitable for 18 and under. 18 and under DNI.

a/n - not going to lie; I always feel uncomfy while writing kissing or seggs scenes because I have no idea how it feels. Do people really suck their partner's tongue while making out? I have tons of questions, but my irl friends are like me, we have no knowledge abt kissing...

Enjoy~!

Bokuto Koutarou

Bokuto is your first boyfriend, and he is your first for everything.

He is always patient and never rushes you.

You two always do things at your pace because he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable.

But, you know that sooner or later, you two would have sex.

And the thought of it scares you.

You were brought up in a traditional and conservative family; sex was never really mentioned.

Most of your friends are experienced and often give you advice on how to do it.

Some of your 'friends' told you that he will leave you if you don't have sex with him soon.

You're an insecure individual, so hearing those, you can't help but feel obligated to have sex with him soon.

Bokuto has a high EQ, and he easily noticed that you were feeling upset.

Since you didn't want to worry him, you reassure him that you were okay.

After three years of dating, was he going to leave you because you two couldn't have sex because of you?

Bokuto pulls you onto his lap, and you gently loop your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. You kissed him back with as much passion as he was, and he sneaks his hands underneath your shirt to massage your stomach gently.

You softly moaned when he slips his tongue into yours, and he playfully sucks on it.

He stops kissing your lips and slowly kisses his way down to your neck, and sucks on your collarbones, leaving light love bites on them. Your breath hitched when you felt him cupping your breast; you immediately pushed his hands away.

At first, Bokuto felt a bit taken back by your reaction, then he saw your glassy eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong? You can tell me." He tries to touch you, but you shook your head.

"I'm not ready...I don't want to do this, Kou. Are you going to leave me?" Bokuto was confused; why the hell would you come to a conclusion that ridiculous just because you didn't want to have sex with him?

He cups your face and makes you face him.

"Babe, it's okay if you're not ready. We don't have to do this if you don't want to. We can stop. I'll never leave you. Was it those friends of yours again? Dump them. If my baby doesn't want to have sex, then we shall not. We shall do it when you're ready, okay? Don't feel pressured by them; we do this at our pace. Now, do you want to watch a movie and cuddle?" You meekly nodded your head, and he kisses your forehead and on the lips.

Bokuto went back to the room and came back with a big fleece blanket.

"Virgin or not, I will always love you. Don't listen to the rubbish they are talking about. If you wanna have sex, we can do it. As long you are comfortable, that is all I want. Don't blame yourself, okay?" He flicked your forehead when he noticed your sad pout.

He set up the TV and dims the lights in the living room. You sat in his lap, and he wraps the blanket around the two of you as the movie starts playing.

"Kou, I love you. Thank you for being so understanding." You thanked him and kisses his cheek.

"I love you too." Bokuto pulls you closer and kisses the top of your head.

Miya Atsumu

Atsumu loves you a lot.

You were the first girlfriend he has brought home to his parents, and Osamu approves of you.

It seems like he has found his match. His fans were glad to see him in a relationship where he is genuinely happy.

Before Atsumu, you dated a couple of guys, and it was all bad experiences.

Your first boyfriend forced you to give your virginity to him, and he was older, so you thought that was what you're supposed to do in a relationship.

The second guy just took advantage of your vulnerability and exploit you in the worst possible ways.

You met Atsumu while working as a pilates instructor, and their's team trainer introduced you to him.

And you two have been dating for about two years after knowing for about a year.

Sex...you two did talk about it, but you were just not ready to do it after all the traumatic experiences.

And, he was okay with it.

You felt bad because sometimes you can hear him touching himself, yet you can't help him with his needs.

"Tsumu, let's do it." You climb into his lap and captures his lips into yours. He was surprised, but nonetheless, he loves kissing you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

His hands crept up to your inner thighs, and he starts massaging your thighs.

You felt a bit squirmish and slight discomfort, but you ignored it and starts kissing down his neck, leaving love bites, and you helped him removed his shirt.

Atsumu knows you well, and he noticed your expression. Even though it was subtle, he noticed how you were slightly uncomfortable and when he touches you, you flinched by reflex.

All the small actions that you unconsciously do make him realised that you were forcing yourself to do.

"Hey, we don't have to do it if you're not ready. You don't have to force yourself." Hearing him say that, you broke down in tears.

He holds you securely and pats your back in a comforting manner as you cry.

Even though you wanted to do it, he sensed that you were uncomfortable and decided to stop you. He noticed that you were not ready and immediately stopped and comforted you; it made you realise that he is not like your exes.

"Babe, we can do it when you're ready to do it. No need to rush yourself; I can wait. I'm not going to leave just because we are not having sex." He comforted you and nodded your head.

You lifted up your head, and his heart ached at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks.

"I'm sorry for not being able to things like a normal couple. I just thought that you might leave me if we don't have sex..." He shook his head and cups your face in his hands.

"I can wait as long as you are ready to do it. I'm not going to leave you just because we can't have sex. If I have any urges, I'll just touch myself or something. I want you to feel that you are safe with me and under no pressure. If you don't want to have sex, we don't have to. Is that clear?" He stroke your cheeks gently.

"Thank you for being so patient. I just feel-" Atsumu shuts you up by kissing you on the lips.

"No more feeling bad in this house! Let's watch your favourite show and order takeout, okay?" He was desperately trying to comfort you.

"Okay, I'll stop feeling bad. I love you." You leaned in to kiss his lips.

"I love you too. Now, I'll go get you one of my hoodies and we can cuddle more after I go calm myself down. See you in a bit!" He pecks your lips and rushed off to the bathroom.

Hinata Shōyō

He may look innocent, but Hinata probably has more experience than you.

But this guy has tons of patience when it comes to you.

You knew him since young since he was a neighbour of yours.

After graduating high school, you two reconnected and started dating shortly.

So, you two have been dating for three years, and there has never been a dull moment with him.

However, your friends ask about your sex life, but the two of you literally did nothing. The most you guys did was make out.

It's not you guys are super pure or innocent; you two felt there wasn't a need to have sex.

But how long can he last without having sex?

So you decided to ask him directly about it.

The two of you were just chilling on the sofa after dinner. You snuggled against him, and he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him. When you two entered into the relationship, you guys promised each other to always be open.

Communication was the key to a stable relationship, and it was bugging you.

"Babe, are you okay without having sex? We've been going out for three years, and we never had sex. I just want to know your opinion about it." It was direct, and he never expects to have this kind of talk with you.

He thinks for a moment and hugs you tighter.

"Well, I am fine without it since I've been so busy training. I just want to spend time with you, sex or no sex; I love being around you. And, it's your body too. When you are ready, you can just tell me. No need to rush." He kisses your cheeks, and you nodded your head.

"Okay, I just want to know. You know, because my friends are talking about how sex is the one factor keeping their man. What about you?" You poked his cheeks, and he pouts.

"I'm not that horny! Anyways, I love coming home to your cooking and how you decorate our apartment and our dates! Not all relationships are like that...Or perhaps, you are the horny one in this relationship?" He scooted over from you and gasped.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic self.

"You are the horny one! I caught you doing it in the bathroom!"

"You did it too! You left your dildo by the bathroom counter!"

The two of you burst out laughing at each other.

"Alright, we can do it whenever you are ready. Wait, we are going to miss the show! Turn on the TV!"

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Both of you are pretty direct in your relationship since you guys prioritise communication.

The talk of sex never really come up in your conversation.

You two have not moved in together yet but are looking at potential places to move in together.

Your parents were happy to hear you two were finally getting your own place after dating for five years and are engaged now.

Both of you rarely have the time to meet since you both are busy, but Sundays are meant for dates.

Your friends are shocked to hear that you and Sakusa never have sex throughout your relationship, not even once.

Maybe you two could just keep in your pants 👀.

Obviously, you two almost did it, but both of you stopped each other before it went further.

Sakusa himself has a lot of restraint but sometimes, seeing you in his shirt and cooking in his kitchen really turns him on.

He stood up from the sofa and approached you from the back. You jumped slightly when he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned his chin on your shoulder.

"Wait a bit; good food takes time to cook. You can have some strawberries if you're hungry. My uncle sent some from his farm." He was not looking for some strawberries.

Sakusa softly kisses the nape of your neck; you accidentally let out a moan when he sucks on your sensitive spot. His naughty hands slyly sneak under your shirt and touch your stomach, leaving feathery touches below your bra.

He never stops kissing your neck, and you knew this might end up in the bedroom if you don't stop him and no dinner for you two.

"Kiyoomi, stop. I'm not ready yet." You told him firmly, and he stops immediately.

You turn down the stove and turns around to face him. He looked away, feeling guilty that he lost his rationality when he saw you in his shirt.

"Hey, don't feel bad. I stopped you, didn't I? That's all that matter." He lets out a deep sigh and pulls you into his embrace.

"I'm sorry. Seeing you in my shirt, I lost my rationality. You look so damn hot in it." He confessed, and you burst out laughing.

Sakusa frowned and cups your face to make you look at him.

"Fine, I won't laugh but get those strawberries and get out of the kitchen." You loop your arms around his neck to bring him down to your height for a kiss.

He lets you go and got the strawberries to the living room but his eyes were admiring your back as you return back to cooking.

YAASSSSSSS! I'M DONE!

I'm so happy that I have finished writing this! Hope you all enjoyed this! Thank you for reading!

Stay safe and healthy!

With love,

Rosalie🍓

[egcdeath]

strangers again

summary: “hiiii sweetie!! can i request a steve x reader where he left yn for peggy. but he always felt guilty and missed yn. he would always stare at her pic. when he came back he bumped into yn while she was dropping a kid to daycare. and steve realized it was his son. kinda sad but fluff at the end pls!!!! and oh i super love your works!!! tysm 🌼🥺💕”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: decent angst, brief mention of a depressive episode, abandonment, somewhat unrealistic behavior

word count: 3.8k

author’s note:  i really hope that this lives up to your expectations but it is a little cheesy. i’d also like to warn that i have not interacted with a child in several years, so.. sorry. (there’s also a lot of exposition so double sorry if that’s not your thing!)

You’d never forget the moment Steve left to return the stones, with the promise to be back in only a matter of moments.

Maybe your definition of a matter of moments was different from his.

You seemed to be the only one without a clue of what Steve truly planned to do, with Bucky only telling you after the matter that Steve was leaving for the past and for Peggy, and probably not coming back.

After finding out, something deep within you broke. You could barely leave your bed for days, you struggled to eat, sleep, even drink water. Every task that used to seem like muscle memory, began to feel like it carried the weight of the world behind it. Every hobby that you once enjoyed becoming empty and bleak.

You constantly felt inadequate. How could you love someone so much, and be told you were loved so much while always being second to someone else?

The simple sentiment of it had left you feeling miserable, and sick to your stomach. Literally. Nearly every morning, and occasionally if you smelled something too strong, you found the contents of your stomach emptied.

You attempted to ignore it at first. Meshed with every other unpleasant symptom you were going through, you’d figured that it was just one more bullet point on the list of things that had been plaguing you. But when your friends insisted that you go check up with your doctor, you had a hard time saying no.

Once you received the results from your blood test, you were completely taken aback by the fact that you were pregnant. You couldn't believe that you hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy earlier.

Yet,  after a long and hard period of pondering, you managed to surprise yourself once again after you realized you wanted to keep it.

After all, that could be the only piece of Steve you had left.

----

You began to tell yourself that Steve was dead. That was somehow less painful than the idea that he left you for someone that he barely knew, yet had fallen so hard for nearly 70 years ago. You refused to let yourself fall for anyone else romantically, now that you were aware that anyone had the capacity to leave you at any time, no matter how deep you perceived your relationship to be.

You guarded your heart, and made sure to only let in those that you knew you could trust for a fact. For the remainder of your pregnancy, only your closest family members and friends stood by your side.

About 8 months later, you brought a small, but healthy infant into the world. From that moment on, you promised yourself to become the best version of yourself that you could be. No dwelling on the past, and no yearning for what could’ve been. Your only duty now was to provide the best life possible for your offspring.

So you did.

----

You stood in the kitchen, peeling an orange for your son before he bounded into the room. You turned and gave him a big grin, and he grinned back to you.

“Did you get dressed all by yourself?” You asked him excitedly, receiving a nod in return before he ran up to your leg, and hugged it.

“I did, Mommy!” He looked up at you with his soulful eyes, and you couldn’t help but to feel bombarded with emotion.

Even at the tender age of five, Grant seemed to become a bit more like his father every day. The shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the sound of his giggle. To the average onlooker, he came across as the same as any other child, but to you, your son was the splitting image of Steve.

“Good work, little man. Now go sit at the table so mommy can finish breakfast, okay?” He didn’t even bother confirming with you before more or less sprinting to the table. You couldn’t help but to ask yourself if your son had obtained all of that energy and speed from his father as well.

Breakfast was over almost as soon as it started, and before you knew it, you were warming up your car after you’d assisted Grant with brushing his teeth.

You were in an oddly nostalgic mood that day, playing music from a time period before you’d even imagined bringing another life into the world. You glanced up at the rearview mirror and watched your son happily bop his head to the beat. You thought in passing about how much of a gift he truly was.

After arriving at his school, you hopped out of the car and over to the furthest seat in the back, where he’d insisted on sitting that day.

“You ready, big guy?” You questioned while reaching out to grab him from the car seat.

“Born ready,” he agreed. You chuckled and shook your head fondly at that while getting him out of the car.

“Who taught you that?”

Grant shrugged, “I came up with it myself.”

“I’m sure. Can you hold my hand while we’re out please?” You reached out for him, and he gladly obliged.

You soon became distracted by a large man across the street, his built figure and light blonde hair making you recall the father of your child. You gave Grant’s hand a light squeeze and continued to approach the door, not being able to help yourself, and glancing over at the man one last time.

Except this time was different. Your eyes locked with the blonde man outside of the coffee shop across the street unexpectedly. Where you once thought casually to yourself that it looked like Steve, you now had confirmation that it was in fact the man who you’d fallen in love with, and found yourself pregnant by.

You audibly gasped, receiving a bit of a questioning look from your child. Your heart dropped as a metric ton of emotions hit you all at once, anger, sadness, confusion. Everything you told yourself you needed to repress, had suddenly come back to you all at once.

Even from a distance, you swore you could see his eyes flit from you to Grant, and the next thing you knew, he was approaching your direction. Looking for an easy out, and a distraction from your rather observant child, you quickly caused a misdirection.

“Grant, is that Stacey over on the playground? You should totally go show her that new version of tag that you were telling me about!”

Your son, ever the speedster, booked it towards the playground, and you let out a sigh of relief. Although, the relief didn’t last long, as just moments later, Steve was almost all the way up to you. As you turned to try to escape, you felt a hand on your arm.

“Y/N?” He asked, almost timidly.

You weren’t even sure what to say. In fact, you didn’t feel like you had control of your own body at this point. “Steve? I-“ You ran a hand through your hair and bit the inside of your lip. “You need to go.” The pain that was rushing through you was too much for you to bare, especially considering the man who caused the hurt had suddenly decided to reappear in your life after giving you a world of self doubt and abandonment issues.

Steve seemed hurt by your statement, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand to even look at his face. “Please, Y/N, let me explain,” he begged.

“No, Steve. You don’t get that luxury. You left me for someone else, and I guess you got to live a nice, long life with her. You don’t get to just show back up in my life when you get bored, okay? I can’t afford to play those types of games anymore. Now if you’d let me go-“ You attempted to get to your car, but Steve side stepped you.

“It wasn’t like that. You know it isn’t like that.”

“Just fucking leave! You have no idea what this has all been like for me. You had your opportunity to leave, and you gladly took it. Stay the fuck out of my life, and the hell away from my son.” You grabbed the handle of your car door and got in, reeling as you watched a dejected Steve walk away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rested your head against the steering wheel. You were feeling way too many emotions to pinpoint exactly how you felt, but you knew that this couldn’t be good.

——

You put a brave face on for your son that day, picking him up from school in a daze, and only half listening to whatever it was that he was telling you.

You felt bad for only being able to nod along to whatever he was saying, and did he just ask you if he could get a dog? Did you just say yes?

You felt like a stranger watching yourself from the outside in. The ghost of the person you’d developed into over the years watching the past version of yourself slip right back into your body, and take over your daily routine through the next few days of your life.

You had an obscene amount of anger that soon dissolved into a deep sadness, and that sadness shorty developed into a morbid curiosity.

You spent an unreasonable, and certainly unhealthy amount of time searching your old lover’s name on tabloid websites and social media, just to see if he’d given a statement on his whereabouts, or a statement about anything at all.

After about day three of your minor internet stalking, you’d had an epiphany while sitting in your office.

You still have Steve’s number saved on your phone.

That was, of course, if it hadn’t changed between now and the years that he’d been off living in the past.

Something about knowing that you were just one text away from him made your heart race with a mixture of nerves and interest. Just one impulsive decision, and you could change the whole trajectory of the rest of your life.

If you got back in contact with Steve, you might not ever be willing to leave him. You refused to make that mistake again.

Until you did.

After reading Grant his nightly bedtime story, then wrapping him tightly in his little bed, you’d decided to treat yourself to a glass of Chardonnay.

It’d been a weird past couple of days. Your time traveling ex had randomly appeared back into your life, your coworkers seemed to get on your nerves a little more every moment you were around them, and Grant had a temper tantrum in the grocery store that afternoon over a chocolate bar, which gained judging stares from customers, and may have made you feel the slightest bit inadequate.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you filled your glass again, because two glasses can’t hurt, and again, since I kinda deserve this extra one, don’t I? The next thing you knew, the bottle was empty, and you were texting Steve for the first time in years.

Y: Is this Steve?

You watched as three white dots hovered on your screen for a moment, disappeared, then came back once again.

S: Is this Y/N?

Y: Yes.

Y: We should tlak

Y: *talk

S: I agree.

Y: So lets

Y: talk

S: I don’t think this is a conversation for texts.

Y: Then call me???????????????????

S: We should talk in person.

Y: Im not gonna do that sober

S: You’re not sober?

Y: do you think id text u sober u big fuckni asshole

S: I guess you’re right

S: So are we gonna talk?

Y: no ur gonna meet me at b cup cafe tomorrow at 10

S: AM or PM?

Y: AM I’m off

S: Are you sure you want to do this?

Y: Say yes before i change my mind

S: I’ll see you there

Y: Bye babydaddy

S: ????

You promptly deleted the messages, tossed your phone somewhere on the sofa, and sunk into the seat. Even in your not-completely-sober state, you already felt the all too familiar sense regret. You dragged the blanket that hung over the top of the sofa over your exhausted body, and closed your eyes, wishing that this was somehow all a dream.

----

It was not all just a dream.

You woke up with dried drool on your chin, and a deep pit of bad feelings and regret in your chest. Of course, you ignored the bad feelings and got ready, business as usual. You successfully dropped Grant off at school with little complications, and found yourself perking up a bit more.

Yet, something still felt slightly off. You reached into the passenger seat for your phone, and as you looked down on it, saw the familiar notification of a calendar event.  

10:00 AM b cup coff w Steeb

You groaned out loud at this. There was no obligation for you to go meet with him, but perhaps going and talking to Steve would bring you some sort of closure. Maybe then you could move on with your life, get with a nice guy who would mean it when he tells you he won't leave you, who loves Grant like he’s his own biological offspring, and to take care of the both of you through thick and thin.

You gladly daydreamed of this fantasy man while driving to the shop, but you couldn’t help but to see Steve’s face doing all of the aforementioned things. Before you even fell pregnant, that’s what you’d truly wanted with Steve. To be a family. To have your definition of home be with your people, rather than a place.

Entering the coffee shop, you briefly ordered your drink before looking around and find Steve sitting alone in a booth, mindlessly stirring around the liquid in his cup.

Timidly, you approached the booth, before setting your purse down and sitting across from him.

“You... you came?” He looked up to you with almost watery eyes.

“Of course I did,” you tried to hold yourself back from mentioning something about following through on your word. You wanted this to be as civil as possible. To build bridges rather than burn them.

“I just didn’t expect to see you in person again. And, you know, you were running a little late,” he added.

“Well, you try waking a five year old up and getting him ready for school every day,” you expelled a humorless chuckle to deflect from the slight agitation you were feeling.

“While you’re hungover?” Steve asked with a bit of a smirk, trying to lighten up the mood.

“While you’re hungover,” You confirmed, genuinely laughing now. It felt good, natural even. You’d kind of forgotten just how pleasant things used to be with Steve.

“Did you mean it last night?” he interrupted the laughter with a serious look.

“I honestly cannot remember anything I said last night. Elaborate, please?”

“That he’s mine. Your son.” He watched you silently nod, then began to speak again, “Wow, I just didn’t realize… How did that happen?” He looked down into his drink nervously.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to recall the exact details, but when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much...” You trailed off, and looked up as a barista called a butchered version of your name.

You were glad to have an excuse to get up and leave for a moment. Adrenaline was racing through your body, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep your composure before you erupted into tears, or had some sort of angry outburst.

Bringing your cup back to the booth, you sat down and took a sip of the scalding drink, “Where did we leave off?”

“I believe you were giving me the birds and the bees?”

“Right! Well, I think you know the rest. I’ll tell you more about Grant later. Right now, I want to know why you left and suddenly decided to come back.” You genuinely felt proud of your delivery. This was the moment you’d practiced in front of the mirror for years, and you didn’t even butcher it.

Steve shook his head and looked into his drink once again. It was so hard to look at you, let alone make eye contact with you, when he knew that he’d been the one to give you an ocean of grief. Yet, he was somewhat intrigued by hearing that his son’s name was his middle name.  

“It’s kind of a long story,” Steve began.

“Good thing we have time,” you crossed your arms as you spoke.

“Well, waking up in a whole new time period isn’t exactly the easiest thing ever. You and me both know I missed it there, and it’s always been more than just nostalgia for me. I truly believed that I belonged back there.”

Of course, you had an idea of this, but hearing Steve confirm what you’d already thought made your insides twist.

“But I was so wrong. More than anything, I guess I was in love with a romanticized version of the past. Of Peggy.”

Hearing her name, especially from Steve, made you bristle. You wanted to interrupt him at this point, but it wouldn’t do you or him any good to become hostile while he explained himself.

“By the time I realized, it was too late. I figured you’d already moved on and found someone else to take care of you, and the world, this world, didn’t really need me anymore. But something possessed me to come back.”

“So you’re telling me that if you stopped being an idiot that just assumes things, we could’ve worked this out before? That you could’ve been an active participant in your son’s life?”

“I guess that’s a good way to interpret that story. I know I haven’t been in his life, but is there any way that I can still meet him?” Steve asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course. He’s just like,” you sighed a bit to yourself. “He’s like a carbon copy of you. Especially his personality, but like, down to his mannerisms. I always struggled to understand how he could be so much like his dad, and never even had met him. You’ll love him.”

“Even if I didn't like him, I’d still love him.”

“How do you still manage to be such a cheeseball all the damn time? You think you’d be able to make it to dinner tonight?”

----

At exactly 6:30 on the dot, your doorbell rang, and before you even had the chance to think about opening it, Grant already was at the door, and opening it. You cringed on the inside, and made a mental note to have another conversation about stranger danger with him.

“Do I know you? Who are you?” you heard your child question from the other room as you set down the last of the plates in your dining room.  

“I’m Steve, your mom’s friend... and…” Steve nearly spilled the beans to his son, but didn’t want to cause any more damage than he’d already done. “Her friend.”

“That’s so cool! I have friends too, like Nick, and Stacey, and,” you’d rushed up to the door and wiped your brow, internally hoping that you hadn’t just smudged the makeup you’d put on for the occasion.

“Hi, Steve, come on in,” You beckoned him in, and pulled Grant to the side, quietly scolding him before leading Steve into the dining room. “Grant! This is the last time I’m telling you about opening doors, okay?” He nodded obediently, then followed you and Steve.

“Can I sit next to your friend, Mommy?”

“Is that alright with you, Steve?”

“More than fine.”

Grant sat down next to him, and scooted a bit closer than necessary, while you sat across from the two of them.

“I have to in… enter a gate you now. Because Mommy never brings any over her friends over. I didn’t know she had any friends.”

You blushed a bit at this, at your son’s overdramatic behavior, and his admission that you’d become a bit of a loner.

“Go ahead, pal,” Steve chuckled heartily.

“When did you meet my mom?”

“Before you were even born.”

“Wow! That’s a long time. You’re really old. What’s your favorite dinosaur?”

“I’ve heard T-Rexes are pretty cool.”

“Have you met any?”

You nearly spat out your drink at this. If only your son had known.

“Nope, never. Have you?”

“Hmm, not yet. But they’re my favorite dino too. Now your ‘gating is over.”

You couldn’t help but to burst out into laughter at the bizarre exchange, but you were glad that your son and Steve were getting along so well.

The rest of dinner went pretty similarly, with Grant bantering with Steve, and Steve indulging him. You could tell that the relationship between the two of them was something that came both naturally and easily. You couldn’t help but to grin as Grant began to ramble about how cool Steve was, and how he swore he was better friends with Steve than you were.

“Mommy, isn’t Steve the best? You guys should totally get married so he can have dinner with us every day!” he swooned. “He even kinda looks like me, right?!”

That’s why you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next.

“Grant, Steve is… He’s your dad,” you said quietly.

Grant nodded, then slurped up a noodle, “That’s why he’s so cool! He gets it from me, right Mom?”

“That sounds right to me,” You glanced up at Steve, and noticed his surprised expression. You mouthed something along the lines to ‘He’ll process it later,’ and waved a dismissive hand, before going in for another bite of food.

----

After putting Grant to bed, You and Steve stood at your kitchen sink, bumping elbows occasionally as the two of you silently worked together to wash and dry dishes.

The domesticity and familiarity of the action brought you an obscene amount of comfort. You remembered how you once believed that this is what your future would look like. Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve beginning to talk.

“Doesn’t this remind you of life after the first snap?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Kind of. You’re not off the hook yet, by the way. You still have plenty of explaining and proving you’ve changed to do.” You set the last cup in the cupboard, then dried your hands off.

“I know, I know,” Steve began.

“We don’t even know if you’re ready for fatherhood. But right now, I kinda don’t care. I really just want you to kiss me.” You reached up to Steve’s cheek, and he pulled you in for a soft and chaste kiss.

You’d never felt more at home.

——

me with this fic:

[sofreddie]

Serendipitous Souls (Part 2)

Summary: They've been bonded by Chuck. Now what?

Characters: Dean x OC!Reader, Sam

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1,385

A/N: Still building here as our characters become acquainted.

"Sam," Dean breathed out, releasing Y/N and running to his brother's side. Sam was fine, with some residual aches over the ordeal, but fine nonetheless. Dean sighed with relief and patted Sam on the back before standing straight and running his hands through his hair in frustration and relief.

Y/N stood awkwardly, watching the brothers and trying to process what had just happened.

For starters, she was sucked from her couch at home - in her pajamas no less - into the damn show she was watching on TV. Yeah, see, that should be crazy enough. But then she finds out those characters are suddenly real, she's a soulmate to one of them, and she's pretty sure she just had an arranged marriage by God to said character. Her mind is refusing to acknowledge there is even a 'part that comes next'.

She could run, she thinks. That's her first instinct. To get away. To run from what she can't handle. But she's in another universe, with no one and nowhere to go. And she's pretty sure the Winchesters would just catch her before she made it to the door anyway. She fidgets on her feet, one arm holding the other, trying to offer herself some form of comfort in this awkward situation.

"Dean," Sam hisses, nodding in Y/N's direction. Dean follows his eyes, as if suddenly remembering she was there.

"Hey," he says with a big breath, coming towards her and pulling out the closest chair, "Maybe you should sit?" he offers with as much a smile as he can pull off at the moment. She hesitates before slowly moving forward and lowering herself into the chair, on the very edge of the seat, back straight and hands clasped between her knees. She's literally on edge.

"Drink?" Dean offers, watching her nod before pouring out three glasses and handing them out. The three of them sip in silence, Dean's eyes wandering over Y/N. She's an average sort of beauty. Tall for a woman, but still shorter than himself. She's bigger than the average woman too, but shapely. He can see that through her slightly baggy pajamas. His mind so helpfully reminds him that Marilyn Monroe was five-foot-ten and a size sixteen - a true 'plus-sized' beauty and Y/N for sure has that sort of build.

His eyes continue to wander, admiring her 'child-birthing' hips. Cause that's what's coming next, isn't it, his brain so helpfully provides. Consummation, as Chuck put it. But Dean knows. Chuck really meant mating. All these sorts of rituals require it.

"So," Sam chimed in to break the silence after polishing off his glass, "We should probably talk about everything," he sighed out reluctantly, watching as his brother nodded and took the seat across the table from Y/N. Sam let the silence drag out a short while as he waited for either of them to speak to each other. As it was, they couldn't even manage to look at each other.

"It's about three hours to midnight," he continued, but the pair stubbornly remained silent.

"I'm sorry," Y/N's sudden apology cut through the silence, both brothers brows furrowing in confusion.

"Why are you sorry?" Sam asked first.

"Because," she shrugged, "You don't know me and I don't know what happened to lead to this, but I-I know Dean never wanted something like this, especially someone he doesn't know," her words became more hurried the longer she went on, "A-and he deserves so much more than I could ever give and-"

"Whoa, hey, breathe," Dean finally spoke, urging her to calm down, "You don't need to apologize for anything. None of this is on you."

"B-but I'm just a fan," she emphasized, "I like the show but to be in it?" she huffed, "I'm gonna get you killed or get me killed-"

"We won't let that happen," Dean promised, his gaze serious and steady. He sighed heavily, "Look," he said, focusing all of his attention on her, "If anything, all of this is on me," Dean stated with a shake of his head. Sam groaned and rolled his eyes so hard his head rolled with it, "It is," Dean insisted to his brother.

"How?" Sam scoffed, "Please, explain to me how you've managed to work it in your mind that this is all your fault."

"He said I never worked right, never did what I was supposed to do," Dean argued angrily, "That the only difference between me and all the other Dean's was that a chip of my soul broke off when I was made and became Y/N," he said in a huff, putting apologetic eyes on her, "He sent you away so I could never find you. So we could never be together."

"Then why did he bring me here?" Y/N whispered, her gaze still on the wood grain of the table in front of her.

"Because," Sam shook his head with the nonsense of it all, "Chuck thinks that with you two being bonded, and thus Dean's soul being whole, that Dean will finally play along to his stories as he wants," he paused to finish off his drink before sucking his teeth, "And I think he's gone a little off his rocker and is experimenting with storylines now."

"You realize how fucking fuck-all crazy this sounds, right?" Y/N huffed out in disbelief, her gaze flitting between the brothers.

"Yet it's still not the craziest thing we've ever heard," Dean muttered.

"Or seen," Sam added with a shudder in memory of…something.

"Well, it really takes the cake for me," Y/N huffed out in a humorless laugh.

"Well, you're a fan, right?" Sam asked, "Fans usually imagine these sorts of things, right?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable suggesting such a thing but trying, somehow, to possibly be helpful.

"Imagining and doing are two completely different things," she growled out defiantly, finishing off her own drink. Sam was quick to refill everyone's glasses.

"So you have imagined it," Dean said with a sly smirk, taking a small bit of satisfaction from her shifting. She rolled her eyes and focused on her glass.

"You know," Y/N sucked her teeth before meeting Dean's eyes with a defiant glare, "I guess I shouldn't be so surprised you'd be so ready to sacrifice yourself. For Sam. Again," she huffed with a shake of her head, "I don't blame you for that. I just…there's really no limit to what you'll do to save him, is there?" she asked, the hostility gone and replaces with a sort of sadness, "Even marry a complete stranger," she chuckled in disbelief.

"Well, I mean," Dean shrugged, "It's probably the least damning sacrifice I've ever made," he laughed lightly.

"And an arranged marriage is probably the only way he would've ever settled down," Sam chuckled, feeling the mood becoming somewhat less somber.

"I know there's…more…that we have to do," Dean stuttered out awkwardly, "But afterwards, we can talk about what you want, or don't want," he tried to explain.

He didn't usually struggle so much with women. He assumed it had something to do with their bond and the way he swears he could almost feel her, feel their souls trying to reach out to one another. He had a feeling that if - no, when, his mind helpfully provided - they crossed that line, he would never come back from it. That wasn't something he ever had to worry about with any other woman. Ever.

"So what? We're just married, bonded, and expecting," she huffs out, "And then life just goes back to normal for you and I just exist around here?"

All of this was so sudden and forced on her. She'd be a flat out liar if she said she'd never thought about or imagined things like this before. It's Dean Fucking Winchester! Of fucking course she has! But for it to be real? To be happening right now as she sat in her pajamas and contemplated her greatest fantasies turning into her worst nightmares? Not like this, she pleaded over and over again in her mind. But she knew it was too late. It had already happened and, as far as she knew, couldn't be undone.

Bind myself to you for eternity.

The words from their 'vows' rang in her head. What would her new 'eternity' look like?

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

Dean Winchester:

@akshi8278

Serendipitous Souls:

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@xhannahbananax03

@440mxs-wife

@crist1216

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Hard to forget' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

Hard to forget

"I just want to be happy,"

Chapter Summary: The time comes for Yirina & Park to dress up for a special moment for the night: celebrating Zasha & Portnova's union, spending the night as friends...

Link of the Picrew used !

To read it on AO3, click here!

Words : +3300

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

June 24th, it's been now three days that Zasha & Portnova left London to spend some time together away from work with their honeymoon in the south of England. Of course, that meant that I & Park were taking care of the apartment without forgetting to feed Beans while the two were away. Everything worked fine for us, nothing was disturbing us and it was all for the better. I & Park were enjoying some moments alone by working or in the evening, watch the TV as the two married, were enjoying their honeymoon away.

Of course, since Zasha was not at work, I was sometimes making visits to their team to lead them, correct any mistakes while I was still working with Park to try to find anything that could be useful with Perseus, and as always, it was only useless or nothing too much concrete to dig in. It was our day every day but at least, we were working without getting shot at and behind a desk.

"Come here, Beans, time to eat!" I taunted her with a pack of foods in my hands to get her in the kitchen. We were just finished having dinner and both were tired enough that we decided to be going to sleep instead to sit on the couch.

"I wonder, who named her 'Beans'?" Park asked me as she was cleaning up the dishes in the sink of the kitchen counter.

"I think it was Dedov," I replied, remembering the day I met with Beans as at this moment, I could see her arrive in the kitchen in a fast walk, having heard me. "Here you are!" I whispered before I start to fill up the bowl for her food.

"Zasha's brother?" Park stopped the sink, looking finished with the dishes before turning around to look at me and I nodded to her. "I thought that it was Zasha who named her like that." She commented.

"No, Dedov found her while she was wandering around the old apartment complex they were both livings," I explained to her, putting the pack of food away before moving back next to Beans,  scratching her between the ears as she was eating. "Dedov brought her back and they adopted her."

"They did good, she's beautiful." Park complimented as she kneeled to get next to Beans too on the other side, looking at her. "Did I tell you that I had a cat before?" She demanded and I shook my head to her, not recalling everything about that.

"Well, you told me that you had a pony before but I'm curious now," I said.

"It was when I was only a child, my parents gifted me a female cat at my 8th birthday: I named her 'Victory'." She revealed to me as she starts to put her left hand on Beans' back to stroke her.  "She was black & white with some light brown spot on her back, she was so lovely." She added, a smile on her face as I removed my hands from Beans.

"I would have liked to meet her," I told Park, looking at Park with a grin.

"Yeah, you would have loved her." She exclaimed before she removed her hands from Beans, letting her eat in peace despite staying next to her, and then, I could see that Park's face was going pale.

"You're okay?" I demanded in a worried voice, handing my right hand on her shoulder.

"I think that we should go to sleep, Yirina," Park suggested as she got up, her hands on her face to hide it. "It will all be better." She thought, starting to walk away from the kitchen before I decide to follow her too, shutting down the light along the way and leaving the majority of the apartment for Beans as I moved to our room.

"Park, are you sure you're okay?" I questioned her again after I closed the door of our room, starting to undress up from my clothes.

"It's just work that has been very exhausting for me." She replied, removing her jeans away and letting them on the ground. "We didn't do much but it feels like it was a lot." She continued, looking back at me, biting her lips before she moved on to the bed, her face still looking white.

"You can tell me everything," I advised her in a good voice as I laid down on the bed next to her but at the moment I was on it that Park looked away from me. "Park, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." She instantly responded to me but her voice, the tone she used, she was clearly lying.

"Hey, as I said, you can tell me what's wrong, I'm here," I affirmed to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders to comfort her. "Please, tell me...tell me," I repeated, sounding to plead to know.

"I'm...I saw myself back in that cell in Verdansk, sitting alone in the dark." She started, sounding that she was also most going to cry. "Wondering when I will see you back." She continued, feeling her hands above my arms.

"Me too." I breathed, kissing her at the back of the neck

"But, also...I was feeling to relive these long months in that North Korean prison with no one to help me." She added, mentioning her hard moments that I was told about by the others two months ago. "Alone, weak, getting whipped to make me talk." She snorted.

"Park, I'm here, it's okay, we're safe." I tried to reassure her the best I could have done, getting slowly moved by her story that I already know but still sad to remember. "We're not in a cell, we're not in prison, we're in London, safe and trying to be happy." I confided, her cold asking getting felt around my fingers, prompting me to get closer from her to give her heat.

"I know." She muttered, her voice slowly getting better but still sounding sad.

"Things are hard but we both know that we can do it, we'll try to get over it and we will do it," I reassured her, my forehead touching the back of her neck and closing my eyes. "We have both been through a lot and we will still be but we both know that we can get over it," I repeated.

"I know, I know." She said again, bringing only a little smile on my face after hearing her voice going back to be good.

"I love you, Park," I admitted clearly, keeping my arms around her to keep her protected, to make her feel safe. "I love you, I love you," I whispered.

"Thank you." She thanked me, making me smile a bit more as I could feel her trying to rest as I was soon going to follow up until I close my eyes to sleep...

I was coming back to my old apartment alone and to say, I wasn't looking all happy after all, like if something was making me angry or in rage, my blood almost boiling inside of my body and how I was walking up the stairs to my front door, it was sure that if someone was interrupting me in my way, it wasn't going to happen quite gently, feeling my face red of anger and holding a backpack in my left hand, clenching both of my hands.

"Come on!"  I almost said in anger as I was literally struggling to unlock the front door of my apartment with my keys, my anger wasn't really helping until I succeeded to open the door.

When I entered the apartment, closing the door behind me and locking it, it was like I was going to unleash my whole anger on the living room but instead, the only thing I could do was to throw away in a rage the backpack against the couch, something that I was wanting to do since a long time, nothing couldn't stop me now but my rage was only that: throwing that backpack on that couch...that's it.

"Why did you do this, Zed?" I demanded, looking at a picture of me, Zasha, Portnova & Dedov, my eyes mostly on Zasha. "I had a plan, we could have left together...why ?" I repeated, moving away in anger before I sit down on the ground against a wall. "You just needed to wait," I told, joining my hands on my face but then, I heard the phone ringing in the room and even if I wasn't willing to pick it up, I did it nonetheless, going up to grab it. "Who is this?"

"It's me, Freya." I heard her voice through the phone and it wasn't making me full of joy hearing her.

"What do you want?"  I asked her in a harsh tone, keeping my angriness.

"I wanted to apologize and to ask for a second chance." She replied to me, sounding apologizing and low.

"After what you did?" I demanded, holding the phone that I thought that I will crush it like it was nothing. "You cheated on me, you promised me things and what I saw is you, loving, offering yourself to that Sonya," I added, raising my voice.

"I'm sorry, Yiri." She pleaded.

"Stop been fucking sorry for fuck sake and stop calling me Yiri!" I ordered, annoyed to listen to her apologies, knowing that it was mostly fake. "I forgive you for a lot of things but I realized how much it was a mistake."  I continued, giving my thoughts to her. "I don't recognize you anymore."

"I wasn't myself, Yirina," She defended herself. "I did stupid things but I can fix them, I only want you to be happy with me."

"No, you only want your happiness and me to always stay near you, you're possessive, Freya." I clarified my thought to her, even if it was breaking me to say that like that. "I loved you, I hold you in my arms but that was the Freya I loved, not the woman I'm talking to right now."

"I didn't change at all." She protested, still sounding bad & sad.

"Maybe we both changed, maybe I'm the only one who changed but if I did, it's only for the good...no, you have changed." I corrected myself, not blaming me for that, she changed, not me. "Right now, I'm trying to copple with the fact that my best friend left the country without me and I'm not fucking in the mood to accept apologies from you!" I raised my voice to her.

"Yiri..." She whispered.

"I'm not Yiri for you anymore, goodbye!" I shouted as loud as I could before I literally moved to hang up the phone, letting me in peace but still angry and when I thought it was over, the phone rang again but this time, the sound was muffled even if I was close to it. "I said that it was over, done..." I took back the phone but to my surprise, the phone continues to ring in my ears, getting louder at each ring and hurting my ears. "Stop it." I muffled, covering my ears from the noises but it wasn't enough before I fall on my back on the ground...

"Stop it!"

That voice from me caused me to woke up with a start, back to reality, feeling that these phone rings were more real than in that memory until I start to hear them for good in the apartment, muffled like the first time I heard in that memory...was it something to make out of that memory. I looked to my right to see the time it was now: 2 AM. I was wondering who could call us at 2 in the morning until...

"Park?" I was surprised when I saw that I was all alone in the bed, sending a feeling of panic in me as her clothes weren't there anymore. "Park?" I spoke up, getting up from the bed to leave the room.

I did a tour of the apartment to see if she wasn't in the bathroom or somewhere else but not she wasn't there, there were just Beans that was sleeping on the chair near the couch and that was it and also that phone that was continuing to ring by a lot, not even stopping for a second. As panic was flowing inside of me, I was thinking that this call was important to take so I walked to the phone to answer it.

"Yes?" I said in a low voice, trying to stay normal & cool despite the time right now.

"Oh thank god, here you are!" This was the voice of a man through the phone, impossible to recognize. "It's been minutes that I tried to call you." The man added.

"Who is this?" I asked him curiously.

"Listen, you're Yirina Grigoriev, right?" He demanded from me, not even answering my question.

"Uhm...yeah." I decided to tell the truth even if I was suspicious of that man calling to the apartment at 2 AM and sounding strange.

"Okay, I've got a friend of you in my bar, miss Park, you know her?" He questioned me as I looked around me.

"Yes, yes!" I quickly replied to him. "What's happening?"

"She's been in my bar for hours and she refused to leave, I need you to get over here and get her out, she's almost drunk." He ordered in a clear & worried voice.

"Tell me where's that bar and I'm coming right away," I asked him, looking in the direction of the bedroom.

"It's The Tommyfield in Lambeth, come quick," He responded as I was knowing that bar because we passed in front of it to celebrate Zasha's marriage days ago.

"I'm dressing up and I'm here in 5 minutes." I then hang up the phone in a quick move, already knowing the direction to take.

I ran to get to my room and gather all of my clothes before I start to dress up in no time after what I heard from that man: Park was drinking for hours in a London pub, meaning that she didn't sleep along with me. We did go to sleep at 9 PM, she was there for 5 hours, I slept for 5 hours alone and those ringings from the phone were the things to wake me up and realize the situation.

Once I was fully dressed up, I took the only keys of the apartment that I have before I left the apartment, locking it and then, I immediately start to run outside the building, not paying attention to the noise I was making because of the stress of learning of Park's situation. I was now outside, in the cold of London, running to join up that bar that wasn't so far from Zasha's apartment but I couldn't walk, running was the only option for me.

After running through the streets of Lambeth, I managed to join the bar that was still open despite that it was marked on the panels that the bar was meant to close 30 minutes ago. I entered it to discover Park at the bar counter, she was the only customer in here and the bartender was next to her, trying to convince her to leave but she was refusing at every word of him.

"Hey...I told you...to bring...another beer!" Park ordered in a drunken voice, pointing at him with her left hand. She was looking too drunk to think right before she turned around to see me arrive. "Oh...Yiri...love, here for a drink?" She exclaimed, a smile on her face.

"Here you are." The bartender said, relieved to see me here. "Convince her, please."

"Park, what's wrong with you?" I asked Park in a worried & half-angry voice as I moved to get next to her.

"Me? Nothing...just...drinking to...come on, bartender, give her a drink." She demanded, tapping with her right hand on the counter for the bartender.

"Stop that now." I put my hands over hers to stop her from continuing to do that. "We're going home," I affirmed as I moved my hands on her.

"No, let me....remember my friends..." Park pleaded in her drunken voice as she was struggling to not leave that counter. "Just fuck off...fuck...Yirina...fuck off."  She cursed, trying to forcibly fight her way out of my grasp.

"For fuck sake, stop fighting me, we're leaving," I told her in an angry voice, moving my arms around her shoulders to make sure that she stops using her arms to try to nudge me. "Park, stop!" I shouted, starting to drag her away.

"Yiri...leave me...or..." Park started to say before I saw her covering her mouth....and then, she started to throw up on the floor, causing me to release her, now on her fours, emptying herself.

"Shit..." I whispered, shocked to see her like that as the bartender was coming to walk near me, a tissue in his hands that he gave me. "It's okay, Park." I tried to reassure her as she was breathless and me, moving the tissue to clean all around her mouth.

"Yiri..." I heard her in a low voice as I decided to grab her in my arms.

"It's okay, we're going home," I said, holding her in my arms and putting hers around my neck to make sure that she was still conscious. "I'm so sorry, sir." I apologized to the bartender for that.

"Just get her out of here!" He mumbled, walking away to get something to clean up what Park did on the floor and I complied.

Seeing Park like that... was something more to broke me, I was holding her, walking through the streets of Lambeth to get back to the apartment, and all the way to it, I was resisting the urge to broke down in tears to see her like that. Seeing her drunk...almost willing to punch me...it was breaking me, it seems that my pleadings 5 hours weren't enough to appease her...I was feeling so guilty for that...

We went back to the apartment in ten minutes, opening the front door of it and the first thing I did was to put down Park on the couch, removed her jacket and clothes that were touched by what she did in that bar, and then, directly going to grab a bucket in the kitchen for her in case she threw up again, along with a glass of water.

"I'm sorry, Yiri..." She apologized in a low voice as I was giving to her the glass and putting down the bucket at her feet.

"Why did you do this?" I asked her worried, wondering about it.

"I was stupid...drunk...just bloody stupid." She replied, avoiding any eyes contacts with me, looking at the glass in her hands. "I'm sorry."

"I almost had a panic attack when I woke up and when I learned that you were drinking to oblivion in that bar, my heart was going this faster that I could have a fucking heart attack just by hearing that." I raised my voice against her but I wasn't myself here, I couldn't do that. "What happened? You said it was fine to me earlier and...I learned that you left." I shook my head, putting my face in my hands

"I did something that I didn't think to do." She tried to explain, passing her hand through her face in shame. "I....I couldn't sleep and...I saw Lazar's diary..." She revealed to me.

"You...you read his diary?" I asked her and she nodded sadly.

"Entirely, I read it entirely." She added, making me freeze my blood...worried...scared of what she has seen. "What he wrote about me, about you, about all of us...it broke me and it caused me to left...and go forget what I saw..." She snorted, seeing tears coming out of her eyes. "I was drinking for him...to not forget him...wanting to believe that he's still here but it's hard to forget." She then starts to cry, putting her hands on her face.

"No, don't cry..." I chuckled, moving to get to her to try to hug her. "Please don't cry, Park, don't cry." I pleaded but she was continuing to cry and it was enough for me to make me cry too...realizing that we were both...broken...just trying to survive...both crying on that couch...

"Park...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."

[pod95]

Pairing: Finn Balor X OFC (Ciara)

Word Count: 1981

Warnings: Mature to explicit as the story goes on.

Description: After moving to the USA from England to start her career as an NXT superstar, Ciara gets to meet her long time crush, NXT champion Finn Balor. It's clear the pair have chemistry, but when tensions start to rise, will they find they want more than a no strings attached relationship?

So this is the first piece of fanfic I have written literally ever. I will be posting them here periodically, but I already have 6 chapters out on my Wattpad, AO3 and FanFiction pages.

This series will involve romance, drama and (although it will take a little while) some smutt too. Hope you enjoy it! 😊

Chapter 5: Prince Charming

I had a quick shower in my locker room before heading out to the car park, where Fergal was coolly leaning against his car. I was feeling kind of nervous. Up to now every time I'd seen Fergal it was down to pure coincidence. Now we were very intentionally going out for food together.

"Ready to go?" he smiled as I approached his car. I nodded sheepishly in response. "Good. We'll swing by your place so you can drop of your stuff and change if you want."

"That would be great, thanks!" I threw my gym bag into the trunk and climbed into the passenger seat. Fergal turned the radio on low and pulled out of the car park.

"So can you drive back in England?" he asked me.

"To be honest no, I never got my licence"

"Really? How come?" I hesitated for a moment before answering. The truth was simple: I could never afford to. But the reason why was something I wanted to run so far away from that I'd never think about it again.

"Well... I grew up in a poor area and money was tight for a lot of my life. I guess I just... Never got around to it," I lied, before lowering my head in embarrassment.

"Ya know," he piped up eventually, clearly noticing my discomfort, "I didn't learn to drive until I joined NXT. Dusty actually taught me" he admitted, with a hint of sadness.

"You must have some great memories with him"

"Oh I could tell you some stories, " he smiled at me before turning his attention back to the road.

The journey was filled with laughter as Fergal recounted his driving lessons, and soon enough we were pulling up outside my apartment.

"Right, won't be a minute"

I jumped out of the car, rushed inside and dumped my gym stuff in the washer. Knowing that this wasn't a date took a lot of the pressure off of choosing an outfit. I kept reminding myself that this was just a casual meal between work colleagues and not to overthink it. I returned to the car in a nice top and some jeans.

"So where are we going?" I asked.

"Well there's a nice sushi place near here, or we could get pizza-"

"I LOVE sushi!" I interrupted loudly before catching myself "I mean... Sushi sounds great, please"

"Sushi it is!" Fergal giggled, and pulled away from the pavement.

* * * *

As we entered the restaurant, the host greeted Fergal with a warm, familiar smile.

"Mr Devitt! Your usual seat I presume?" he asked, eyeing me before giving Finn a knowing look. It was obvious the host was not surprised to see Fergal here with a new face.

"Yes please, if it's available"

"Of course! Right this way sir. And might I say, your lady friend looks ravishing this evening" he flashed me a charming smile.

"This is Ciara, she's a new superstar. She worked her ass off today so I'm treating her," Fergal flashed that gorgeous smile again, but his quickness to correct the hosts mistake had me a little disappointed.

"Ah, my mistake sir! I assumed... No matter. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Just a soda, please"

We took our seats in a quiet corner of the restaurant.

"Same for me, thanks" I nodded.

"Right away," he nodded and left the two of us alone.

Our table was next to a large window looking out across a small stretch of beach. Not one of the many that were overpopulated with tourists, but a quiet, peaceful piece of heaven. As the sun started to set, its light was dancing across the surface of the ocean. It was a beautiful sight. I could see why this was Fergals usual table, though I couldn't help but wonder how many women he'd brought here, charming them with the view.

"So, what looks good?" Fergal opened the menu and glanced over the pages.

"Honestly, all of it..."

"I usually just get a sushi platter to share and then order some ramen or a bento box for myself."

"That sounds perfect," I closed my menu and set it down, relieved that he'd taken the lead before I said something stupid. Fergal called a waiter over to give him our order before turning his attention back to me.

"So how did you get into wrestling?"

"My mum is a huge fan, we used to watch it together. She's basically in love with Brett Hart" I giggled.

"She must be incredibly proud," he smiled. I nodded in response, trying to hold back some tears that had started to form. Noticing my sadness, his tone softened, "I know it's hard, moving away from family, friends, boyfriend..."

"Oh, I'm single so that's not an issue but... Yeah, I miss them a lot."

It could have been my hopeful imagination, but the look in his eyes seemed to shift slightly from sympathy to devilish triumph.

"Really? That's interesting..."

"How so?" I asked, playfully.

"Well..." he hesitated before leaning in slightly closer to me. He squinted his eyes in thought, as if he were trying to solve a difficult puzzle. "You're beautiful, so I doubt you're short on options. You don't have any annoying habits that I've seen, but honestly you're attractive enough that most guys won't care-"

"And what if I'm only interested in women?" I teased, enjoying watching his attempts at analysing me. He chuckled cockily and licked his bottom lip.

"Well in that case, all that flirting you did last night wouldn't make much sense would it?"

"I... Suppose not..." I mumbled, my cheeks beginning to feel hot once again.

Every interaction between Fergal and I felt like a game of Tennis, passing flirtatious remarks and enticing glances between us until one of us (usually me) was left feeling embarrassed.

"So that means, you're choosing to be single. Why is that?" he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, satisfied with his theory.

"I'm just not looking for anything serious now. My career comes first."

"That's smart," he nodded in approval.

We were interrupted by a waiter bringing our food to the table. Everything looked and smelled amazing.

"I just got out of something semi-serious so, I'm focusing on my career too."

I popped a Maki roll into my mouth to hide my surprise. He didn't look like he was lying to me, but Saraya had mentioned last night that he was seeing someone. Maybe she was just taking a dig at him. There was a lot of hostility there after all.

Ugh... Thinking about last night was giving me flashbacks of my piss poor attempt at being alluring. I shuddered the thought out of my mind.

"You ok?"

"Yeah just, kind of embarrassed about last night," I confessed. "I don't normally flirt with complete strangers."

"I could tell, you were really bad at it. Do you always get like that when you're drunk or are ya just that attracted to me?" Fergal laughed, doing nothing to calm my already crimson face.

"I'm always like that, sorry to disappoint. But I did want to thank you for not taking advantage, and for making sure I got home safe. It was really kind of you..."

"Wow. No wonder you're single. You really need to get higher standards for men love. If not trying to sleep with you when you're drunk is your idea of kind, you're gonna be dating a lot of assholes."

I knew he was right, but considering my last relationship, honestly at this stage I'd say almost anything was an improvement.

We continued eating and laughing until finally the bill came. I reached into my bag to get my purse out.

"Woah, what are ya doing? I said this was my treat." Fergal insisted, reaching into his back pocket.

"At least let me pay for half of it"

"Absolutely not."

"You are fighting a losing battle here miss. Mr Devitt is a gentleman after all," the host chimed in, leaving me with no choice but to concede. We thanked him for the meal and said our goodbyes.

It was only when we got outside and it was pitch black I realised how long we'd been here for. Time really felt like nothing when I was spending it with Fergal. The journey home was made in a comfortable silence, both of us stuffed from dinner as I hummed along to the radio, and before I knew it we were pulling up outside of my apartment.

"Here, it's dark. I'll walk you to your door," Fergal switched off the engine and got out of the car.

"Thanks again for tonight. It was nice getting to hang out. Made me feel a little less lonely being here," I reached into my purse to grab my keys.

"No problem, I know what it's like moving to a new country. If you ever need anyone to just hang out with, let me know," he suggested.

"And next time I will definitely pay!"

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." he beamed.

In the moonlight he looked more gorgeous than I could ever imagine, and I couldn't stop my gaze from wandering. They travelled from the pale blue pools of his eyes, to that intoxicating smile, to the perfect contours of his chest, all the way down to-

"Ahem, my eyes are up here," he smiled cheekily, clearly very pleased with himself that yet again he'd caught me checking him out.

"I was just-"

"No need to be embarrassed love. I take it as a compliment. I actually find it really cute you can't keep your eyes off of me. Besides..." he took a step closer to me and placed a tender hand on my cheek, "You're not the only one who's thought about it."

"Th.. Thought about... What?" I stammered, feeling a pleasant tingling at his touch.

"Oh, you KNOW what" he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I don't..."

He pushed me gently against the wall and held me there, one hand still caressing my cheek, the other pinning my hands above my head.

"So... You haven't thought about me ripping your clothes off and throwing you onto the bed. You've not thought about how it would feel, me kissing every inch of your body," he moved his face closer to mine until our lips were mere inches apart. His eyes were staring intensely into mine, and the feeling of his breath on my skin made my heart beat faster.

"And you've never imagined how, when you can't take any more, I'd make you feel more pleasure than you've ever felt before."

I ran my tongue along my bottom lip in anticipation. Anticipation for a kiss that never came. A let out a small whine as he pulled his face away and released me from his hold. Hearing this he smirked.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he sighed, looking very frustrated with himself. "Look, you're sweet... But I don't do sweet. Okay? I do broken and desperate and fucked up. It's just easier that way. Good girls always think they can fix me, and then treat me like I'm the bad guy when they get their heart broken in the process. If you know what's good for ya, you won't cross that line. I'm not your Prince Charming, love."

He walked back to his car, leaving me alone at my doorstep, confused and disappointed as he drove off into the night. I shut the front door behind me and threw myself onto the sofa in frustration. Damn, having him that close to me, talking about the things he was had gotten me all worked up. I needed to get that out of my system before the next time I saw him, otherwise I might just have to show him how wrong he was to call me a good girl.

[alexlabhont]

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter Three.

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really

I´ll be posting this one over here because Tumblr, for some reason, thinks my secondary blog is a bot...

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

Now, about the PAIRING... I will be using choices style, kinda, because I want to give you choice at some point. If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i’m sorry fo the grammar errors

CHAPTERS

The beginning

Chapter one 

Chapter two

ONE-SHOTS

Just a dance (Zoey x MC)

—————————————————————— 

A truce.

That’s what she said she wanted and for a moment, all their fears disappeared.

“I really hate to admit this, but I personally asked for you to be my partner on this project. I'm familiar with your music, and I actually wanted to work with you.”

She also said. Beck didn't know how to feel, really. Poppy Min-Sinclair heard their songs, or, at least, she saw their videos.

And she liked them.

Or not? They never knew with her. She has been acting pretty weird these days. Giving them a “compliment”, smiling at them, asking for Beck to be project partners…

Open up with them.

That was beyond weird.

Beck couldn't stop thinking about what they saw back at the “Alpha-Zeta deluxe cabin” or whatever it’s called. Poppy really looked hurt… sad… like…

Like she has feelings.

“I don’t know, Beck. I don’t think is a good idea letting you guard down.” Zoey said, playing with their hair, both of them resting on the couch, Beck’s head laying on her thighs.

“Yeah, I get it. But…” Beck took a moment, remembering the sadness in her voice, the betrayal in her eyes… Did she really care about Chloe? “I wish you had been there to see it, Zo. It was so real my head exploded… Like... She was really hurt.”

“Babe, I know what you’re trying to say. And I believe you that she was in pain. But you have to remember she's still Poppy. And even if she’s a… uhm… human who feels, it doesn't mean she's not a bitch.”

Beck stood up, sitting properly while scratching their neck.

“Yeah, I know that.” They replied. Zoey had a point they couldn’t forget. From all people, Beck understood what it felt like to be judge by a cover, but as Megamind's Roxanne said once: Checking the content was what matters, and the inside of Poppy´s book was not so good.

The time on the wall clock pointed it was the moment to go, it was Saturday and Poppy and Beck agreed to meet her in front of an Animal Rescue from downtown around noon. He didn't want to be late, after all, Poppy was capable of start the project without them and argue that they didn't show up.

“Anyway, I have to go now. The sooner we end this, the better.” Beck put on their shoes and leather jacket, ready to impress thanks to Zoey fashion sense.

“I want you far~ away from trouble, Beck Hughes. Do you hear me?” The protector side of Zoey appeared and, again, they were confused by it.

Zoey always had that effect on Beck, she could warm their chest, sculpt a smile on their face. Honestly, after all these years in a toxic environment, bullying and harm, having Zoey´s concern on them was something new, something welcomed, something that made them happy.  Laugh a little if Beck thought about it closely.

“I can take care of myself.” They said. After all of those fake friends, after all of the pain they went through, it was still hard to trust completely.  However… Beck looked at Zoey, the only one who Beck felt relaxed with. Their best friend, the first one to treat them as what they were even after knowing the truth. Beck didn’t miss Farmsville at all. “See ya later, beautiful.”

“I´ll be waiting right here”

~~X~~

They won’t ever admit it, but after they heard Poppy saying that the project was in the Downtown Animal Rescue Beck was excited. Puppies, kitty cats, animals! Beck love them greatly, wholeheartedly. They were their weakness; their adoration was so much so Beck considered seriously taking the vet path almost all their life, if having not found music, their story would´ve been completely different right now. That´s why they couldn’t refrain themselves of stopping at each enclosure to coo over the animals, losing all sense of self-respect over them. Especially after a pup ugly, dummy looking like showed up with the most adorable face they ever seen.

“Oh boy, you’re so ugly I luv ya Tushie-face! Who’s a precious ugly-boy? Uhm? Who’s a precious ugly-boy~” The little pug barked happily, enjoying the attention. “You’re perfect! You’re…”

“… nice to see so many new additions.” Beck heard, stopping them at the moment. Beck was sure it was Poppy, but she sounded… “I guess that means a lot of these little guys are being adopted?” … different. Again.

“Yes, Ms. Min-Sinclair.” A young voice answered, without fear, with respect. A good kind of respect. “We have a ten percent higher adoption rate than last year” Uhh, that sounded good. For some random reason, Beck showed the thumbs up to the ugly pug, flashing him a stupid smile at which the pup moved his tail as if he understand what it meant and agreed.

But then… Poppy laughed.

A real laugh. A nice, non-threatening, actually kind of cute laugh. So honest that they felt terrible attracted to it.

“No… Oh, no, no, no… No. Don't you even think about…”

As if their body was its own person, Beck rounded the corner, wanted so badly to see how a laughter so sincere looked like in Poppy´s face, like some weird kind of siren song they had to see with their own eyes. Instead, Beck saw her talking to one of the shelter’s employees, hugging and stroking a bichon frise puppy´s tummy softly, lovingly. Their heart stopped just a second, running wild immediately after.

“God… she’s so…”

“DON´T!” And they slapped their self. Hard. Beck deserved it. They couldn't… they won’t… They refused to…

The sound where so loud it called the attention of both Poppy and the other guy, while Beck felt the stinging and burning on his now red cheek. Ok, maybe~ they didn't have to do that, actually, the expression on Poppy´s face the moment she saw them, a sour, angry one, was the only thing they needed to feel normal again towards her.

“You're late” Why, hello to you too.

“I´m sorry, it's just that I was playing with Tushie face and…”

“Tushie face?” Beck couldn’t tell if she was amused or making fun of how stupid they were. “That´s how you pet-name?” Poppy added, raising an eyebrow. Beck shrugged.

“If you have a tushie face, then you are a tushie face. Simple as that” Based on Poppy's smirk, they should’ve stay quiet.

“Uhm… Alright, tushie face.” Damn it! “Come with me.” She then gave them a wink, smiling as if they both had now a new secret, before walking toward the back of the kennels.

Fuck.

“So… how do you knew about this place?” Beck asked, very willing to replace the topic to literally anything.

“If you must know, my parents bought me this shelter when I was eight.”

“What?”

“Really? Why?”

“I wanted a dog. Mommy and Daddy didn't want pets in the house… Et, voila”

Beck looked around, the place had now a new light after what they just learned. All this place was Poppy's, just because her parents didn’t approve animals at home. Unintentionally, Beck chuckled, feeling Poppy’s gaze on them almost immediately.

“What’s so funny?” She asked, irritated.

“We’re really very different but the same at once” They said. “Ever since I was a kid, my parents taught me to work with every single farm animal. Cleaning them, feed them, love them… I even helped bring life into this world.” Beck told her, twisting their lips. “I had a lot of different pets back at home. So do you right here. You see?”

“You’re forgetting about the fact the whole point of a place like this isn't for the animals to stay forever…” She said, vulnerable. Beck did actually get that, the hollow feeling that comes after something like that.

“Well… at least they’re not dinner”

Surprisingly, that comment made her chuckle just a little and Beck felt so good to be the one to take away that fragile expression in Poppy’s face. She was definitely more beautiful when she was happy. When she was laughing.

“You are right, that's even worse.”

They both looked at each other for a moment, some complicity in their own way, as if they both shared something, a sentiment that almost nobody felt, both understood each other, at least in one little but significant thing: They both learned very young what it's like to love innocently and truly, to have an unconditional companion, just to lose it to the “greater purpose” again and again. Both learned to never get really attached to anyone.

“But whatever, it gets the humanitarians off our back.” Just as if the conversation never happened, Poppy went back to the factory mode. “Which is why we’re really here. I’m fully aware of your popularity in YouTube, especially after your little performance, so hopefully this project we’re doing will get some good press for us to get the adoption rate it to, at least, 20 percent this year.”

“So this is why you wanted to work with me…” Beck didn't know why, but a little part of themselves felt disappointed… what was them expecting anyway?

Soon they both reach the back of the room, and while Poppy walked in as if it was completely routine, Beck had to stop for a second. A whole crew was already set up, cameras, microphones, lights, everything. A lot of cute pups and cats of all ages were also there looking adorable, sure they were the real stars of all this, but Beck couldn't help but feeling intimidated.

However, it was Poppy’s attitude the one thing that took all Beck’s attention though all the day.

She was kind, professional, caring… making sure of one thing above it all: to have the best commercial of all times for an animal shelter. The way she treated the employees, the animals, people around her… it was like a completely different side of her they never seen before. Poppy even, against all odds, treated Beck as what they were: her project partner. Giving them a fair share of lines, taking care of capturing their best angle, how happy they looked between all those cute little animals. Directing Beck to make sure every detail was perfect, being polite and respectful while doing so.

She was acting as a selfless but powerful leader, and Beck couldn’t take her eyes off of her the whole time. She even managed to convince them to adopt that tushi faced puppy, pointed out that they both had choose each other right at the moment they meet.

“Just look at the way he's watching you!” She said playfully. “You two are really connected.”

“Do you really think so?” Beck asked, playing with the pup. They really wanted to take the little guy home, be able to give him a good life, having another friend in their life. One not farm related at least. Beck felt Poppy coming closer, resting her hand on Beck's shoulder while watching little tushi face with a soft smile.

“I know so. But the real question is: what do you think?”

And now, Beck had a dog named Pepes.

~~X~~

Once they knew every detail was taken care of, and the adoption paperwork were all right, Poppy, Beck and little Pepes walked out the shelter. Personally, they felt drained out, because although they were used to cameras, it was always under their own terms and time, their own edition, their own personal rhythm, but after that day, Beck was seriously considering the idea of being backstage musician, unlike Poppy, who actually looked as fresh as a cucumber.

“Damn, Pops. I have to admit it: you were awesome there.” They said, Pepes barking enthusiastic, agreeing.

“Were you expecting something less?” She said, some mischievous sparkle in her eyes Beck couldn't quite place. “Now, take me to lunch.”

“I'm sorry? Why would I do that?”

“Because…” She started to say, sassiness taking over her. “… I acted, arranged, produce and direct a fully perfect commercial to our project while you just played around with puppies and looked cute. The very least you can do is buy me lunch. I'm starving.”

“Oh, so you think I'm cute?” Beck flirted. It was impossible to let it pass by.

“Like it was a secret” Poppy smirked.

“… What?”

“I’m not blind, Hughes. You are actually very good-looking. It´s not a secret.” Beck was shocked, did they really just heard a compliment from the one Poppy Min-Sinclair that wasn’t commercial related? They looked at her, expecting some irony or double meaning, maybe some hint of a trap, but no…  She was being completely sincere. Beck snorted, it was cool they guessed.

“Now, that's a compliment.” Poppy rolled her eyes evidently, pretending to be irked, but that little smile on her lips proved to be the opposite.

“Hello? My lunch?” Beck laughed, how can she be so rude and yet so cute at the same time? Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

Maybe.

“Whatever you want, bossy-ass”

----

Next

[punkscowardschampions]

Grace & Ava

Grace: you okay babes???! Ava: The furthest from without actually being 💀 Grace: Oh my god what even?! aren't you at that uni thing? Ava: For a few more hours yet, give me strength Ava: Last night was Ava: nah Grace: last night was a sorority girl horror 📽🎞 or like ??? Ava: Allegedly a thing but I've yet to see anyone rocking a skinhead without it being a Choice™ Ava: So, everyone else did go to the 📽🎞 last night but I pulled a sickie 'cos Ava: well, that can do one as a concept but also Ava: Are you sure you even want this? It's a whole saga, like 🙄😫 Grace: duh x 10000 Grace: there's nothing anyone can tell me about mean girls 🔪💔 we can skip 📽🎞 when I've IRL lived it Grace: & obvs! talk to me I'm BEYOND concerned Ava: There are no mean girls Ava: and I think the shit I pulled is beyond a Regina level even Grace: UM no way are you casting yourself 👑 thanks! what happened?! Ava: Sorry but you can try and come for the 👑 after I tell you Ava: So they get current pupils to show you around, do the tour, answer questions, do the whole programme with you, right? Ava: Must be good extra credit or whatever, anyway Ava: There's this guy, and the whole time there's this total...vibe, you know? And I'm not delusional or sad like that, its an actual thing but I know him, know of him Ava: so I know why I should just ignore it, but instead when everyone is out, I DM him Grace: excuse you bitch I'm literally reformed but like putting that ASIDE cos this is so much more IMPORTANT!😱😱 Grace: so are we talking a phoneful of regret or IRL walk of shame? Ava: We talked for a while, so I have literal evidence it wasn't just one-sided but truly do not wanna be that girl but like, I swear Ava: anyway, we did go out, properly and it was Ava: so good Ava: but then he had to go and now I have to die Grace: duh it was 😍😍😍 I know what a vibe means Grace: he has a gf yeah? honey we've ALL done it don't even stress he's obvs not that into her Ava: No its Ava: more complex Ava: there's Ava: well, he's married Ava: but he's not as old as that makes him sound but yeah, clearly quite into her Grace: Ew! What's with everyone getting 💍👰 Grace: if Janis gets proposed to I'm kmsing Grace: it doesn't sound that complex though babes, don't let this family fool you, 💔💍 is such a thing™ Ava: Can't see it myself Ava: they are cute though Ava: of course but I'm not out here doing that myself, that's Buster's bread and butter, not mine Ava: they have kids as well, two Grace: 🙄🤢 Grace: totally but we literally NEVER have to tell her or them that shh Grace: well that explains it 🤰👰💍 he probs doesn't even love her Ava: My lips are sealed Ava: One of them is like...6 or something and the other is a baby so there's like no excuse Ava: It didn't come to anything more than a kiss but I'm mortified Grace: 6? How old is he?! Ava: Again, not as old as that makes him sound Ava: 22 ish, in his last year Grace: THANK GOD! I was literally picturing like a hot 40 Ava: Somehow that would be less complicated Ava: Unless he was a friend of my parents or something but not trying to hit every cliche before I even start Uni Grace: UGH! remember when I went to the fair with that lad who turned out to be 19 & everyone lost it like I was being groomed 🙄 Grace: such a drama Grace: this seriously doesn't sound that bad Grace: either he's bored of her or having his 🍰 & 😋 Grace: who stopped it at 😘😘? Ava: Well, he did turn out to be a creep didn't he Ava: but he could've been a 15 year old creep as easily, I see your point Ava: He did Ava: his phone kept going off Ava: it must've been her Grace: yeah & like I totally worked it out for myself from reading the vibe Grace: same as you last night Grace: 😱😱😱 Grace: did he answer? did you literally have to sit there 🤐!!! Ava: I think I might've got the vibe seriously wrong Ava: well, no Ava: I don't know Ava: we were in a club, he couldn't Ava: but we left real quick and he hasn't looked at me today so that's been fun Grace: oh girl please Grace: trust, as someone who has gotten the vibe wrong WAY more times than we need to admit outside of this convo, you so didn't Grace: he's having a freakout, we've ALL been there too, yeah? Ava: Clearly Ava: 😂 Ava: Oh God Ava: I just need to pretend this never happened and peace Grace: come over Grace: we'll go out & make some new drama happen Grace: soon as you do, you'll know if he's bothered Ava: Sounds good Ava: If I didn't have two other Unis to hit before Summer officially starts 🙄 Grace: OMG you're so extra Ava: Rude 😂 Ava: Not as if I can go here now, is it? Ava: I'm burning through options, girl Grace: ILY for it 💜 Grace: did you wanna go there for real? Ava: Not hugely Ava: it was in my top 5 but its definitely not 🥇 Grace: 🤷💅 Grace: it was obvs a 🏆💋 so Ava: seriously Ava: though I'm probably gonna find out that he's made time for every girl on this program Grace: did you pick up on any other vibes? Ava: I don't think so Ava: He did say other girls were flirting with him though Grace: 😂 boys always say that Grace: literally will have been hitting refresh waiting on you 💬 Ava: Or, they really were and that was a subtle dig that I just ignored Ava: 🤡🤡 Grace: ugh don't Grace: nobody's looked hotter the morning after babes Grace: he'd be the 🤡 Ava: Minus the HP🗲 scar Ava: idk where that came from, which doesn't bode well for how trashed I must've been Grace: if he was as wasted maybe he doesn't remember & that's why he blanked you cos everything is Grace: 👋 been there Ava: I wish Ava: like I said, we know each other Grace: do you know his 👰? Ava: 😶 Ava: Just kill me now Grace: has he posted anything? Ava: About how much he 💕 his wife and kids? Ava: Fuck knows Grace: well yeah or idk how wasted he was Grace: anything to go on Ava: His 👰 would not approve Grace: if he doesn't have like a private snap he's no 💔 Ava: Wasn't my first question Ava: Probably does but bit late to ask now Grace: you literally could Grace: cringe but no more cringe than running into him playing happy families when you go get coffee Ava: I'm just gonna leave it Ava: Not a moment too soon Grace: 👌👌💜 Ava: When the alcohol leaves my system my head will be less 🤯 Ava: Standard Grace: his too though Grace: maybe he'll come to you Grace: 🤞 yeah or 🤞 no? Ava: I don't know what I want Ava: or feel about any of it Ava: It's better to just assume nah, a pleasant surprise is always better than disappointment Grace: mhmm Ava: Shut up Ava: I'm confused and hungover, I don't know anything 🙄😏 Grace: no shade Ava: I know Ava: This is too extra Ava: even from me, right Grace: you can wear the 👑 until I earn it back Grace: cos duh who's more extra Grace: me, this hoe Ava: 😂 I'm ready for it Grace: you gotta let me have it there's no 😘💖😍 in my 🔮 Ava: Not even a little? Grace: there was a little but it got too much Grace: too close to being like Grace: I can't Grace: I'm out Ava: I don't think it's all it's cracked up to be, honestly Grace: makes me feel like I'm cracking up Grace: no thanks Ava: Preaching to the converted today Grace: 🙌 Ava: I'll definitely come over some point this Summer though Grace: YAY Grace: I so need you Ava: I think me and the 'rents are going the first two weeks, then I'm going with my friends the last two Ava: so sometime in the middle to play with Grace: ugh if only my mum and dad were organised about anything ever Grace: god knows when or where they'll spring a hol 🙄🙄 Ava: All fun and games Ava: least you get more space these days, I guess Grace: if they're gonna be annoying I'll just bring you with 🤷 Ava: Three holidays would be a record Grace: hot older lad who?! 😂 Grace: Brazil is on another level Ava: If there's sun and sea, I'm happy Grace: you'll be sooo 😊 Ava: 😘 Grace: 💜 Ava: I did not think that would be such a rant Ava: IOU a coffee, I'll ping you the funds rn forreal Grace: As if! like I've NEVER done you that way Grace: shhh Ava: It's done Ava: Consider it a reminder we need a proper catch up when my head is less fried Grace: 👌👌 fine Ava: Don't be mad, it is essential some good happens today Grace: It's fine babes, promise Ava: Good Ava: I better try and finish this essay thing Ava: Or at least make a better start Grace: or at least get yourself a coffee & put some lipstick on Ava: Cheers, I know I look clapped 😂 Grace: shut up Grace: you do not! Ava: I wouldn't wanna chat to me either tbh Grace: Girl, stop Grace: this convo has been wild & I'm living Ava: I meant him, not you 😉 Ava: Only subjected socials to one pic, like Grace: well duh he wants to kiss you again not have a chat Grace: if you wanna talk you'll have to Grace: there's only one kind of convo lads ever start Ava: Hmm Ava: Have better luck with this essay than thinking of something worth saying Grace: what do you wanna say? Grace: like if you could just Ava: Christ Ava: firstly, what the fuck? Grace: he can't shade you for starting there Ava: Though I initiated it so, ugh Grace: he didn't have to go along with any of it Grace: his wife & kids were literally waiting at home for him so Grace: you like deserve to know if there are other girls or not Ava: What's more insane though Ava: asking around every girl on this course, or asking him Ava: There are definite drawbacks either way from where I'm sitting Grace: you said you know him, how much does he lie? Grace: asking him will be more than cringe if you can't believe a word, it'll be pointless Ava: I don't know him like that but Ava: I suppose I've heard that he's a typical lad in most regards so Grace: yeah Ava: but that's from one source so Ava: who's to say they're 100% reliable Grace: right Grace: I'll stalk the other girls, obvs am insane so Ava: No Ava: 'cos then I'll have to tell you who he is Ava: and it'll all get out of hand Grace: OMG do I know him??! Ava: How would you? Ava: 'course not Grace: then why does it matter if you tell me or not? Ava: I'll sort it myself Grace: Ava Grace: is it already out of hand? Ava: That'd depend on who you asked too Grace: I'm asking you Ava: I've got this Grace: promise Ava: 🤞 Grace: 👌