#he spend his entire life keeping his emotions stored in his chest and then he fucking died

[theupsidedownsrealestateagent]

June 1986

Eddie Munson lived by the skin of his teeth, or rather the skin of whatever those demon bats didn’t chew like he was a discount steak at the worst grocery store in town. The healing process was exhausting, and humiliating. For his entire life he’s been able to be independent with just Wayne seeing his most vulnerable and carefully hidden parts of himself. The problem with fighting an evil wizard from hell isn’t the chronic pain and constant nightmares, but the ragtag stubborn family that follows after

While the Byers-Hopper family was in California packing to move back to Hawkins (why they would do that Eddie has no goddamn clue) Nancy, Robin, and Steve made Eddie’s and Max’s recovery their personal missions. Red he gets, she’s just a kid, a kid that’s been through this shit three times with them compared to Eddie’s measly one. Of course Eddie’s only Upside Down encounter would be the one that almost took him out. Even baby Wheeler hasn’t been this close to Death’s door. There was no reason for these former classmates to care this much. And yet they practically never left his side. He’d like to complain about it, but them helping out had taken a lot of the pressure off of Wayne’s shoulders, and that was the most important part of it for Eddie

If you told Eddie a year ago he’d be becoming close with King Steve himself he probably would’ve hissed at someone or just spoke some broken latin and let the general pop believe he was a demon. In hindsight that didn’t make it easier for Hawkins to believe he wasn’t a satanic serial killer. The point is he’s not supposed to be friends with people like Steve. Robin he gets, they make sense. His friendship with Nancy was surprising but after getting to know she was a complete and major dork, they clicked in a really cool way. But Steve? Steve was funny in a way that was different from anyone else Eddie knew. Steve cooked for him and his uncle during the toughest part of Eddie’s recovery, not well, but it was hot and filling. Steve held him as he cried from nightmares and when he was completely exhausted from his physical therapy appointments.

Eddie was in love with him and completely fucked.

***

The June heat was sweltering, Wayne was on a fishing trip, it was one of the first nights being left to his own devices since he could get around a lot better now. He was spending his solitude getting acquainted with his Darling, since his Sweetheart was destroyed and honestly now associated too much with death and near death experiences alike. The phone rings, Eddie grunts, stands and makes his way over to the phone, it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to get there with his aching knee, but he manages.

Before he could even get out a greeting the caller was already speaking, “Eddie hi! Hey Eddie, it’s me. Um me being Steve. Harrington. Shit you probably knew that–”

“Stevie, you have a shift with Robs today?” Eddie grabs a bit of hair to twist around his finger, lip bitten to hide his smile. No one’s home but him whose he trying to fool? Himself mostly. It’ll go away repeats in his head over and over waiting for Steve’s reply.

Steve chuckles into the line, Eddie’s heart is about to burst out of his chest Alien style. “Yeah we did have a shift together which I guess explains my totally out of character rambling. Don’t let that keep you from remembering what a cool and not dorky guy I am.”

“Hm sorry, but that’s not ringin’ any bells over here sweetheart, you sure we’re talking bout the same Steve? Steve Harrington? You know the major dork who babysits all these kinda freak kids who are definitely too old for babysitters?” Sweetheart? Sweetheart? Did he really just call his strictly platonic, straight friend sweetheart? It takes all of Eddie’s self control (which is admittedly extremely low already) not to brain himself with the heavy phone receiver.

Steve laughs a real genuine laugh at that. The rollercoaster of emotions Eddie is navigating through is enough to make his stomach hurt. “Apparently one in the same then.” He quiets after another small chuckle, and takes a deep breath, “Listen Eds I was wondering if you wanted to get out of the house for a bit? With me?“

"You know I actually am capable of taking care of myself for a few days even without a babysitter on standby? Just because Wayne’s not home doesn’t mean I’m about to croak in the night” Eddie huffed suddenly annoyed.

Steve lets out a tired sigh. Eddie’s gut twists in guilt at the sound. “Yeah I know that you drama queen, but um my parents are home actually. For once, and I. I just don’t want to be here tonight.” His voice goes even quieter, softer now, and filled with shyness, “I like spending time with you Eddie, even when I don’t have to make sure you aren’t dying in your sleep.”

“Give me twenty minutes to get ready.” Eddie goes for casual, he doesn’t think it works, given how fast the words leave his mouth.

***

If he didn’t die and come back a few months before today, he’d surely think he’s dead, or at least dreaming this moment, he’d sooner believe in a hell dimension… Damn he’s gotta get a new improbable scenario to describe the insane situation this moment absolutely is.

Okay so maybe it’s not as improbable as he’s making it out to be. Because obviously it is indeed happening.

Every summer Eddie always feels like a drowned rat, which is true today. His hair is frizzing everywhere, just sitting is causing him to sweat profusely. Steve however looks the best he’s ever looked, golden skin, perfect hair, his sun kissed face bringing out his freckles. He wants to reach out and touch, to stop himself he grabs his rubs at the twinge in his left knee. Steve clocks that action annoyingly quick. Maybe if he’s lucky Steve won’t call attention to it.

And because he’s a Munson the universe holds a giant middle finger to his prayers.“

How’s your knee today?” Steve asks him obviously trying to make it sound like a casual question, when they both know this is a long standing argument neither is backing down from.

Since he came home from the hospital Wayne and Steve have been conspiring to get him to use a cane. Which okay. Whatever. But at what point was using the cane just admitting defeat? He’s supposed to be getting better. Is getting better. Adding a cane to the mix was like adding a crutch (ironic but it emphasizes the point) he didn’t want or need. So sure, sometimes there will be days he can barely get out of bed to take a piss, but maybe if he kept at it, he’d be able to play, and jump around on stage like he’s always dreamed of.

“Fine, Steven,” Eddie bites out, because he’s nothing if not petulant.

Steve barks a laugh, Eddie’s heart drops into his ass, “Aw c’mon don’t Steven me, I just told you my parents are home.” He pouts but his eyes are shining so brightly with mirth.

Eddie scoffs and takes a piece of his hair to give his fingers something not stupid to do, like grabbing Steve’s lip and giving it a tug. “Yeah, I know, you good though? Or should I go grab Nancy for a little chat with good ol Rich Harrington?”

“Oh my god, you’re a menace. Did you know that?” Deflecting, Eddie notices.

“It’s been mentioned, alongside satanic cult leading murderer, but you know I get menace every now and then.

”Steve’s brows furrow, he looks at Eddie almost like he’s searching for something, he must’ve found it because he shakes his head and moves their conversation along, “Well I happen to know you’re innocent, and I also know your dinner order at Flo’s place. One grilled cheese with tomato, pickle on the side, curly fries, and mostly because I think you’re special, a strawberry and mint chocolate chip milkshake.” He holds the cup and wags it a little before putting it in what has become Eddie’s dedicated cup holder.

Eddie gasped, and his eyes started to take up most of his face, “No fucking way man, there’s no way you swung that. I’ve been begging Flo to do that for years! How the hell did you manage that?”

“Okay so I know this totally sounds like a cool line but I promise you it's the truth, but Eds, if I told you I’d have to kill you, then probably myself.” Eddie starts to laugh and Steve can only roll his eyes. “Flo is scary dude!”

“Says Hawkins residential monster hunter, huh a little waitress is scarier than a full grown Demogorgan?”

“No contest! I’d even take the junkyard ‘dogs’ a hundred times over before double crossing Florence Foster. And anyone who says otherwise has a death wish.” Steve starts pulling out his own dinner, his sun pink cheeks matching the setting sun. He must catch Eddie staring because he clears his throat and gestures for Eddie to fiddle with the radio.

It takes him a few minutes to settle on a station, but then he just ends up on his go to metal station. 102.9 The Metal Shop hosted by none other than the annoying Master Metal. Like seriously, he couldn’t come up with anything better? But it gets the job done. Plus it’s normie enough that Steve’s able to tolerate and even like some of it.

So they talk, and the night is warm but there’s a breeze now so they’re able to roll their windows down. Steve’s hair is lightly blowing around every few gusts. He looks so beautiful, and Eddie can feel his cheeks getting hot, he’s choosing to blame it on the heat. He’s also choosing to believe the swooping feeling in his gut every time Steve laughs is due to the greasy take out.

Before he can start believing in any other of his made up bullshit Master Metal cuts in declaring that for the next sixty minutes will be the dreaded Dedication Hour. He groans and goes to change it, but his wrist is now caught in Steve’s hand.

“What’s your problem? You love this station.” And Steve’s head is tilted in that way where he looks exactly like a dog in one of those shelter commercials.

Eddie is kind of baffled by this whole interaction, so he says exactly what his problem is, “Yeah of course I do, but it’s the Dedication Hour, they’re going to play the same bullshit non metal love songs, because people think they have a better chance to get their song on than all the other appropriate stations for their pedestrian tastes. No offense I'm sure that’s very much up your alley Romeo. You got a song on there for one of your many conquests eh Casanova?” Jesus Christ, even he knows he’s laying it on thick.

“First gross don’t call them conquests ,” He throws a fry at Eddie’s face, who in turn picks it up and dips it into his milkshake and laughs at the revolted face Steve makes. “Second, no I didn’t. That’s too romantic, maybe I would've for Nancy, but that wasn’t really her thing anyway.” His eyes stay on his hands, he takes a shaky breath, looks up at Eddie through his lashes. “Eds I’ve got a confession.”

All of the air gets punched right out of his lungs, he has to basically wheeze out an okay Stevie, eyes hopefully conveying to Steve to continue.

Steve sighs, tan hand scrubbing at his jaw, clearly nervous. He’s avoiding Eddie’s eyes, “My parents aren’t home Eddie.” He pauses, in that pause Eddie’s heart crumbles of course that’s what it is. So he’ll sweep up his heart to be put back together much later, and instead comfort his friend. Because at the end of the day, as much as he wants Steve, he’ll also take what he can get, so if Steve only ever offers friendship he will happily take it.

“Oh Stevie–”

“I just wanted to spend time with you Eddie, and I thought if I told you I needed a distraction from my shitty parents, it would’ve hid what I want to say, what I’ve wanted to say since fucking April.” He’s running a hand through his hair, completely flushed now. He’s never been more beautiful.

For the first time in his life Eddie doesn’t feel the need to run in order to avoid inevitlby fucking up what could be a good thing, a great thing. “Eddie Munson, I am so unbelievably infatuated with you, I want to kiss you so fucking badly baby, and and if I’m overstepping you’ve got to tell me Eddie because I’m two seconds away from just doing it even if you end up punching me.” His hand comes up, his thumb brushes away tears Eddie didn’t even know he was shedding.

“Steve Harrington, you are something special.” With a watery laugh Eddie’s hands are now cupping Steve’s face, his eyes are taking in every single detail, before he knows it they are both leaning in.

The kiss is soft, slow, and more tender than it has any right to be. They both took their time, afraid to break this delicate bubble they found themselves. This goes on for a few minutes longer until Steve, reluctantly, and annoyingly pulls away. Eddie huffs, and Steve has the nerve to fucking giggle.

Grabbing Eddie’s hand, he plays with the rings on his fingers, “I have one more thing to say.” He is quiet now, almost shy as if they weren’t just swapping spit two seconds ago. “Um so, this isn’t a casual thing for me Eddie. I like you in the way, where this has the potential for me to be forever, and I don’t want to lose you for being too much too fast, but this is something I can’t negotiate on. If we do this, it has to be the real thing. And if you don’t feel the same, we can forget this and pretend I didn’t ruin our friendship.

Eddie’s shocked that Steve could think he wouldn’t, couldn’t, feel the exact same way, if not more. “I don’t want to forget this Steve, this could be my forever too, I want it to be forever. I think we should do this, I’m all in big boy.”

They laugh, they kiss, and eventually Dedication Hour is over. Hand on his sore knee rubbing soothing circles that ease the pain a bit, Steve suggests going back to Eddie’s to have a real adult conversation about what they’re starting. To which Eddie agrees so long as after they’re done talking they can have an adult conversation with their bodies, and Steve pushes him back in his seat rolling his eyes before enthusiastically agreeing.

December 1986

It’s freezing out and yet Eddie couldn’t be warmer if he tried. There they sat in Eddie’s van, two pizza boxes between them, because according to Steve, Eddie’s preferred pizza toppings are abhorrent. Eddie has tried to argue but almost everyone he knows complains about his pineapple, peperoni, and mushroom pizza. A heavenly combination, especially when he compares it to Steve’s ham and extra olive monstrosity.

“You know babe, when I said we should grab dinner tonight, I was thinking something a little, I don’t know… balanced.” Steve sighed, while shoveling another bite in his mouth Eddie notices. Eyes squinting at his boyfriend’s hypocrisy.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, “Steve, Stevie, Sweetheart. It’s Pizza Hut, it even has a salad bar.”

“Eds we got takeout.” Steve deadpans.

“Yeah but the salad is out in the open air getting its nutrients on the pizzas by osmosis.”

“There’s no way that’s true.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” Eddie asks, feigning shock. “Don’t forget I’ve taken biology three times.”

“Even if you were right, this definitely is not covered under biology.”

“Well what the hell do I know anyways? I had to take biology three times.”

“Oh my god.” Steve’s trying to sound annoyed but the fond smile on his face is betraying him.

Seeing that look on Steve’s face nearly melts Eddie. In the last six months of dating Eddie’s sap meter has gone way up, and like the sap he’s turned into (ignoring the fact Wayne keeps wrongly insisting Eddie has always been a sap) he can’t help but lean into it. Steve makes him want to be that guy, that boyfriend. Which is why Eddie set up this whole night.

Eddie spent his whole childhood being told by his sperm donor that the Munson Curse existed and that’s why their lives were so bad. Absolutely nothing to do with Al’s poor life choices, that long effected his son even after getting locked up. But nights like this, with the snow falling, with Steve’s pink cheeks, and warm laugh, it has to mean something. It has to be the universe’s way of apologizing for all the bad shit. His mom dying, his ‘dad’ being a piece of shit, his near interdimensional death, having to now use a cane to get around, and not to mention all of the horrible stuff Steve’s been through, maybe it all wasn’t in vain.

So maybe the universe wasn’t so bad. It’s not great, every day is still a fucking struggle to get through. But the man next to him, made the hurt a little more dull.

The low radio pulls Eddie back to the present. Master Metal in the middle of announcing the dedication hour, when in the corner of his eye he sees Steve hands reach to change the station. Without thinking Eddie grabs Steve’s hands and entwines their fingers.

Steve turns toward Eddie, brows lifting with a questioning tilt. “I think I’ll survive one night of cheesy love songs sweetheart.”

“Uh huh, who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I contain multitudes.”

“Since when?”

“April.” Which silences Steve who is very much biting his lip to avoid smiling.

In the brief silence that follows their conversation Master Metal is speaking again, “And now for the first dedication. For Big Boy,” Steve’s eyes shoot to Eddie, he goes to speak but Eddie just squeezes his hand, and whatever Steve was about to say dies on his tongue. “The last six months have been the best of my life. The fact that I’m even still alive is all because of you with the help of the family we’ve been able to build together. I love you, with every fiber in my being. I used to be so scared of loving anyone, running at the first sign of a good thing, but you are the best thing, the only thing. And I’m done running, so I’ll love you as long as you’ll let me, even while trekking back into Mordor. Love forever and always Joan Jett. Now here’s Journey’s 1982 hit Open Arms. ”

Steve is crying, big, fat tears, looking at Eddie almost in disbelief. He takes a grounding breath before frantically throwing the pizza boxes in the back. With the boxes out of the way Eddie finds himself with a lap full of Steve, which he’d never complain about.

With a hand gently stroking Eddie’s hair, and the other hand cupping his jaw, Steve leans in and gives Eddie’s forehead a kiss. Then both his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, finally his lips. Steve basically breathes his next words, “I love you too, so fucking much.” A pause, then a smirk flashes across his face, “Joan.”

Eddie’s eyes are now misty, but that doesn’t stop him from groaning at Steve’s response. “I confess my love for you and you tease me for my alias. For shame Steven for shame.”

“You’re right I’m sorry, this is genuinely the most romantic thing anyone has done for me you know.”

“I know it baby, but you Steve Harrington, you deserve all the big gestures. And I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving to you just how easy you are to love.”

Steve doesn’t even say anything to that, just lets his body do the talking, he’s attempting to pour in every last bit of his love for Eddie into the kiss, while not so subtly tugging his boyfriend into the back of the van.

Eddie’s laughing again, “No way gorgeous, I’m taking you home so I can show you just how much I love you. We are not going to defile the van after confessing our love to one another.”

“When did you become sensible?”

“I’ve been keeping company with some good influences.”

“I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

#steddie #my fic #they really love each other that’s it that’s the whole idea #shout out to my mom who was talking about 80’s culture and thus this was born

[memento-morri-writes]

Mask, Midnight, and Wound for the character of your choice.

Ooh, thank you, Alex!! These are all good questions!

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

Weirdly enough, despite my love of masked characters, none of my characters so far wear a literal mask. I'll have to change that. However, I will say that Kristopher does wear a kind of mask. He presents a facade of the man that the entire kingdom of Oryn sees him as: drunk, foolish, and flirtatious. He never shows how badly their taunts hurt him, and he acts like nothing matters to him. But in reality, he's suffering every moment he spends in Oryn, as long as his family and his people hate him. Once in Anvia he dons a different kind of mask. Almost exactly the reverse. He vows not to let anyone see the "real" him. (Or rather, what his parents and brothers have convinced him is the "real" him.) The fuck-up drunkard who is useless to anyone. Eventually Fallon pulls away all of his masks, and gets to see the real Kristopher. The damaged, hurt, suffering Kristopher, who wants nothing more than to be happy and to be loved. Even after the two of them are together, Kristopher still keeps up a certain degree of appearances to everyone except for Fallon. He doesn't want people to ever have an excuse or reason see him the way the people in Oryn did.

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

Fallon is kept up by a lot of things. Sometimes it's worries or stress regarding her kingdom. Trade deals, foreign politics food stores, threats of crop failure or disease. Anything that could harm her kingdom in any way. Other times it's more personal worries. Memories of her mother, worry that she's failed at being a queen her mother would be proud of. Later on, after Lavinia's attack, it's nightmares. Lots and lots of nightmares. Nightmares where all of her loved ones die, and she can't do a thing to stop it. Some of the most devious ones put her father, Wymond, as a mastermind behind all of the loss and suffering Fallon has ever experienced. What she does when she can't sleep depends on the reason she's still awake. If it's worries about her kingdom, she may be up until the small hours of the morning writing letters to various nobles, merchants, or foreign dignitaries. If it's thoughts about her mother, she'll often just sit and let memories wash over her. If it's nightmares, she might try and distract herself, but often just ends up sitting there frightened.

continued under the cut for length

tw: physical injury, parental death, toxic relationships, human sacrifice

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What’s the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Let's talk about a DnD OC here, just for shits and giggles. Let's talk about Cyra, my fire genasi barbarian/fighter. Cyra has experienced a lot of wounds in her life, both mental and physical. From the murder of her parents and entire hometown, to all the wounds sustained while fighting for the Brotherhood, to learning the truth of her girlfriend Talia's true nature, and deciding to flee the Brotherhood for good. Cyra is no stranger to being physically wounded, and they handle it quite well. She has a high pain tolerance, and any kind of bruise or scratch isn't even going to slow her down. Not a wound, per se, but the worst physical pain she's ever experienced was when our rogue's ex-wife (who now leads the very cult he's on a revenge quest against) tried to reach into Cyra's body and remove the magical quarter staff they can summon from their chest. The pain was excruciating, and as Cyra was paralyzed at the time, she couldn't even open her mouth to scream. (But she still tried, leaving her with nothing but a scratchy voice for days.) When it comes to emotional wounds, Cyra is far less resilient. She does not have any truly good coping mechanisms, and tends to bottle up her emotions, only releasing them when they fight. The two worst emotional wounds they have suffered have been 1) losing her parents in a Brotherhood raid (and subsequently being taking in by the Brotherhood to be raised as a soldier), and 2) learning that her girlfriend, Talia (the daughter of the cult leader) is not the person Cyra thought she was. Cyra had long held onto the hope of convincing Talia to leave the brotherhood, and that the two of them would run away together. But after witnessing Talia sacrificing a town full of innocents to the Brotherhood's mysterious god, she realized that Talia had simply been stringing her along.

#atomatowriter #morrigan replies #oc asks #not-so-nice oc asks #atqh: Kris #atqh: Fallon #oc: Cyra

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Bite the Hand || Alex & Emilio

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @mortemoppetere & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: While on a run in the woods, Alex gets cornered by a lapir that she insists she can handle. Emilio, rightfully, steps in and saves Alex from the monster, but not without a whole lot of bickering. CONTENT: Emotional abuse tw, parental death tw, child death tw

Despite all the safety precautions that had been drilled in her brain between childhood training and the park ranger training at her internship, Alex still found herself running alone along a trail in the dead of night. The full moon was approaching in the next week and she could feel the tension building in her muscles, the store of anxious energy that left her hands clenched in fists and her shoulders hunched up to her ears. One of the only ways she knew to safely get some of that tension out was a run through the woods at night. 

As Alex weaved through trees, she fell into a comfortable rhythm. Everything smelled mostly of trees and mud, making it easier on the senses that still felt like they weren’t entirely her own after all these years. The trees in her visage became calming and her heart pounded steadily in her chest until a sound caught her attention. A gust of wind and snap in the branches stopped her dead in her tracks as she scanned her surroundings for the culprit. 

A large bat came swooping down toward Alex and she took a large leap backwards into one of the many trees. “Fuck,” she grumbled as her hand caught on one of the sharper edges and began to drip blood. This seemed to drive the stupid bat into a frenzy as it made another dive toward her. She had to dive out of the way yet again as she fumbled to find one of the knives in her pockets. 

He wasn’t always tracking anything specific when he went into the woods. There were times he had a set purpose in mind, sure — Emilio had a tendency to tunnel-vision on certain things, and sometimes that meant spending days tracking one beast until it was gone — but it wasn’t a necessity. Sometimes, he just took his supplies and set out to see what he might find. It tended to be a fifty-fifty shot on whether or not he’d find anything at all. There were days when the woods were crawling with awful, deadly things, and there were days when they were desolate. There never seemed to be any kind of rhyme or reason to it.

Tonight, it seemed like one of those empty nights. He’d been going for a few hours now and he’d yet to find anything more substantial than a stray spawn or two to put down. Nothing exciting, nothing to tire him out enough to ease that unsettled feeling in his chest. He was just about to give in and call it a night when he heard the sound of wings up ahead. Coupled with the way the hair stood up on the back of his neck and the quiet cursing that accompanied it, and he figured it was something he ought to look into.

Emilio jogged onto the scene just in time to see the lapir swoop down at some unsuspecting kid for what probably wasn’t the first time, given the blood on her hand. Her other hand seemed to be grappling for a knife, which Emilio took to be a good sign. At least it meant she knew enough to try to kill the damn thing, even if she wasn’t exactly doing a stellar job. “Won’t get anywhere with that,” he said, shoving his way into the fight and yanking a rosary out of his pocket. He pulled out a second one and offered it to her. “These pendejos are a bitch to kill. This’ll keep it off your back, at least.”

Of all the stupid things she could have become, Alex had to be fairly pissed that werewolf was what the wheel landed on. Maybe she didn’t have to fake being able to sense something supernatural nearby anymore, but she still lacked the natural strength and agility that Andy had always possessed. As the stupid fucking bat dived down towards her again, she had to curse whatever higher power forced her to live a life where she had to learn all the tactics and movements of combat without giving her the power to make any of her moves or know how worthwhile. “Merde,” she grumbled under her breath as she finally got a good enough grip on her knife to use it. 

Apparently she had been too focused on the fight with the bat to notice that some poor unsuspecting dude had walked right into their path. Alex panicked as she caught him in her vision and was ready to tell him to fuck off, until it became evidently clear that only one of them knew what they were doing and it sure as hell wasn’t her. Still, annoyance flared through her as he corrected her weapon choice. “No one asked for your help,” she spat, pulling herself back up despite the ache in her bones. As much didn’t stop her from taking his stupid rosary. 

The man seemed confident he knew what he was dealing with, which only filled Alex with dread. He had to be a hunter, Slayer probably given the fact he just had a rosary chilling in his pocket. Sure, he wanted to save her now, but he’d probably be real pissed if he knew he was saving another monster instead. “Get the hell out of here,” she shot, holding the rosary up to keep the bat off her back, “You shouldn’t be out in the woods anyway, that’s my job.”

The kid’s movements spoke of some skill, in spite of the fact that she was clearly a bit out of her depth. Someone who had training, it seemed, but maybe not an extensive amount. He watched her for a moment, the way she held her knife. It was a familiar grip. It reminded him of Juliana, the way she used to palm her blades so she could flip them out with ease. Not all of us grew up on stakes, pretty boy, she’d teased him once, but she’d taught him the grip anyway. He flipped his rosary between his fingers absently at the memory. 

He was a little surprised at the hostility, but maybe he shouldn’t have been. Emilio was fairly certain that, had their roles been reversed, he would have been similarly abrasive. He’d never particularly liked anyone butting in on his fights, but it was pretty clear that this kid needed a helping hand. He wasn’t about to just leave her to die in the woods, even if it seemed like she might want him to. “Who says I’m here to help you? If I leave you to fight this thing alone, odds are you end up one of them. Then I have two to track down. I would rather avoid the extra work.”

At least she took the rosary. It did the trick well enough, the lapir instinctively shying away from the religious artifact. Emilio pulled a vial of holy water from his pocket and wrapped his rosary around his hand so he could hold both items at once, filling the other hand with a stake. Glancing over at the kid, he furrowed a brow. Her job? It seemed another clue to support his working theory that she was another hunter. Not a slayer, obviously, or she wouldn’t have needed his rosary. “Well, it’s my job, too. And for this one, I think I’m more suited.”

There was something fascinating and heartbreaking about watching the way a hunter could move. Even with an advantage Alex was never meant to have in the form of lycanthropy, she still couldn’t hold her own. Hell, she was trying to use a knife to kill what was apparently a vampire bat because apparently some cliches weren’t all that far off from the truth. The way he moved reminded her of all the other kids at training camp who moved with ease. Her bloodied hand clenched tighter around the rosary as she bit back her jealousy, a taste so familiar it seemed to live on her tongue. 

“I’m not going to end up one of these things,” Alex spat back in disgust. Werewolf was bad enough, but apparently there were fates even worse than that. Did this thing ever even get to live as a person now that it was… whatever kinda bat it was? At least the rosary was making it swerve in the other direction, but what did she do now? Clearly this man who was obviously a hunter wasn’t going to fuck off, and why would he? If she hadn’t gotten the shit end of the genetic stick, would she be any different? 

Alex was about ready to relent and let the guy do his thing until he struck a nerve. I think I’m more suited. Even in the woods, which was arguably where a monster like her belonged, she wasn’t well suited or strong enough or whatever the hell it was that she was supposed to be. “I’m suited fine, thank you very much,” she retorted defensively, still holding the rosary out. She had a half a mind to grab a stick or something, not that she could do much of anything with it. Not that there was much of a beat for that when the lapir came swooping back down. “Watch out,” she screamed. 

“Ah, my mistake. I didn’t realize you could see the future. That’s on me.” His tone was dry, expression deadpan. In reality, the odds of the lapir infecting her were slim — being bitten by one wasn’t enough, in this case; as long as she didn’t die before the infection ran its course, she’d be fine. But that was a big if, as far as Emilio was concerned. In a town like Wicked’s Rest, you could never be sure of such things. Death lurked around every goddamn corner. It was why he’d come here, why he was renting a shitty apartment in a shitty neighborhood and working a shitty job. Death, to Emilio, had been feeling like more of a promise than a threat for years now.

Of course, even if there were no chance of her being infected by this thing, he wouldn’t have left her there to fend for herself. No matter how much she might want him to, no matter how irritated she seemed that he wouldn’t. It wasn’t in the hunter’s nature to leave someone, especially a kid, to fight something they didn’t know how to fight. She seemed capable, sure, but this was the kind of thing even experienced slayers could struggle with from time to time. And even now, years after she was gone, he couldn’t help but think of his daughter in a situation like this. Of some world where she’d survived, of her as a ratty teenager in the woods fighting something so much bigger than she was, of someone leaving her there to fend for herself. He wouldn’t want that for her, so he didn’t want it for this kid, either. 

Or, hell. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to kill something. Maybe that was all he’d ever wanted.

Sighing, Emilio resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I’m not saying you’re — Look, I deal with this, specifically, a lot. And maybe you deal with similar things, but I don’t think you deal with this.” If she did, she’d have had a rosary of her own. And a stake. And maybe some holy water. He suspected she was some kind of hunter, but not a slayer. And that was what was needed here. There was an ideal weapon for every situation; this time around, that weapon just happened to be Emilio. “I’m not trying to argue. I’m just —” He was cut off by her sudden cry, and he glanced up to see the lapir making a dive in his direction. Quickly, and in a way that would probably make him ache a little more than he’d care to admit later, Emilio dropped to the ground, yanking the cap off his holy water with his teeth and flinging it. The lapir screeched, swooping back into the air to try to get away from the painful substance. 

“We have two options here, okay? Either we get it down long enough for me to stake it, or we find where it’s buried and douse the grave in holy water. I have no fucking idea where that grave is, so I think option A, yes? But these things are hard, and I could use a hand. You want to help? You help. But I can’t fight this and you. I need you to let me take the lead. Can you do that?”

Even if Alex had been the one to bring a bad attitude into this conversation, she didn’t appreciate that energy being mirrored right back at her. Normally, she appreciated a good deadpan delivery of sarcasm, but somehow it managed to both sting and annoy her in one fell swoop. As if her mood needed to be swooping as much as the stupid bat that left her bloodied hand throbbing as it clung to the rosary. She was somewhat frozen with her back against the wet bark of a tree as she watched the slayer roll to the ground and flung what she had to assume to be holy water at the bat-thing. 

Momentarily, her eyes glazed over with a look of amazement. Sure, Alex had seen her parents move in more of a training atmosphere and saw the other kids at hunter camp move through training exercises with an ease she would simply never have, but there was something so reflexive in the way the man moved. It was hard not to feel a small twinge of jealousy that she’d never be able to move like that, at least not as anything other than a monster. The feeling of relief was bigger though; the last thing she needed was some unknowing hunter saving a werewolf. Certainly, if he knew what she was, he’d happily leave her for dead out here. 

“Fine,” Alex huffed, knowing the man was right, “A little more used to things of the furry variety.” It wasn’t entirely a lie considering she was of the furry variety even if the thought made her cringe in more ways than one. At least phrased this way he’d think she was the ranger she was supposed to be, even if she was a shitty one. She listened carefully to the options he presented knowing she couldn’t exactly suggest she could probably sniff out the grave. “Just tell me what to do,” she relented, not exactly thrilled to be letting someone that wasn’t Andy take the lead.

Ah, so she was a ranger. Emilio thought, for a moment, of Juliana, of the silver knife he carried in his pocket that she’d given him years ago, of the way she’d laughed and teased him for killing things that were already dead. You’re kind of the living embodiment of overkill, aren’t you Em? Just an exorcist with extra steps! Shaking the memory was easier, in this instance, than it usually was. Beyond evidently sharing in her ranger heritage, the girl in front of him now seemed to have very little in common with Juliana. She was angrier, more eager to prove. A little clumsier, too, which might be feeding into that. Emilio knew firsthand just how much not being the best made you want to strive for it. 

It struck him, then, that this girl was probably more like him than she was Juliana. The things she hunted might be the same as what Juliana had dedicated her life to, but her attitude? That was much more Emilio’s style. Angry, sullen, and so intent on proving that she was a thing worth being. But… maybe a little smarter than he was. He didn’t think he’d agree to hand the lead over to someone else, even if it was the right decision. He decided it was a good thing that this kid had more sense than he did. It was a positive. 

“Okay,” he nodded. “It’ll be tougher to get than a normal vampire. Going to take most of my strength to get the stake through, so that’ll be easier to do if it’s still enough for me to target. You think you can jump onto its back? Use your strength to keep it from moving too much?” Ideally, he’d be taking this on with another slayer as backup, but a ranger was a good secondary option. She might not be designed to fight the undead the way he was, but she was built to kill monsters. She could help him with this, and they’d both get something out of it. They’d both go home feeling a little better than they had before.

If there was one good thing that came from hunter training, it was that Alex was able to keep her face trained in a seemingly neutral scowl as if the mention of her “strength” didn’t make her stomach turn. Even if she’d gone more of her life without that training than with, every lesson was still ingrained in her memory as she took every one to heart. She wanted to live up to their expectations and move with even half the grace Andy did, but that was never her. Even now as a monster, she couldn’t have been a monster that had the benefit of strength. No, she just had a superpowered nose and ears that worked too well for her own liking most of the time. There was no amount of time she could spend in the school gym, pushing herself to her limits, that would make her possess the amount of strength she let this man assume she had. 

Was that going to stop Alex? Absolutely not. Not after she had all but insisted that this was her fight. “Jump it,” she pretended to contemplate before her lips turned up into a mischievous grin that looked more confident than she felt, “Now you’re talking.” She’d seen the sense of bravado the other kids at camp carried, even if hers was nothing more than guise. 

She looked back up at the thing flying around them and Alex tightened her grip around the rosary. Even with a slayer here, she knew she was in way over her head, but then again, so was he. No matter how good he was, even the best slayer would be considered damn lucky to get out of a one on one fight with the monstrosity of a bat swooping closer and closer down on them. She wanted to run, but some mixture of pride and not wanting to let the annoying guy die kept her firmly in place, readying herself to make a huge leap of faith. 

“Here goes nothing,” Alex stated before gulping back the lump in her throat and making a sprint towards the batty vampire. She tried to move as if she were on the soccer field, a place where she knew she possessed grace that never came naturally to her in a fight, but the rocky ground beneath her feet made the jump towards the vampire clumsier than she’d hoped for. A stray branch caught her shirt and scratched her side as she clung onto the giant bat and it hurt like hell, but she had the stupid bat flailing about her arms and seemingly not reacting too well to the rosary that was around her hands. But it was fucking strong and she had no idea how long she could hold it. She sure hoped this slayer was quick. 

She was clumsier than he thought she’d be. The way she ran, a little unsteady and a little uncertain, didn’t seem to speak to the natural skill a hunter ought to possess. The detective in him was going a mile a minute trying to deduce why that might be, but there wasn’t much time to focus on it now. He chalked it up to nerves, which seemed fair enough. She might be a hunter, but she clearly wasn’t a slayer. That put her out of her depth against this particular beast, the same way Emilio would have been out of his if it had been a shifter or a fae they were facing down. He could hardly fault her for being a little unsteady here.

The backup was good to have, even if she wasn’t trained for this particular enemy. The plan he was trying to enact never would have worked without someone else helping him out. He was cocky enough to believe he could have handled it on his own, but not delusional enough to think it would have been without consequence. Another bad injury would have likely come from it, something that might have had long-term consequences in the same way his leg had. (Or, at least… whatever qualified as ‘long-term’ to someone who’d likely be dead in a year.) 

He shook away the questions that were building in his head. Even with her hunter strength, she wasn’t going to be able to hold that thing forever. He’d need to work quick if he was going to get the stake through. Steeling himself, he launched forward the second she was on the thing’s back, stake in hand.

Except… it was still moving more than it ought to. Twisting and squirming in ways that should have been impossible with a hunter holding it still. Emilio cursed as one of the lapir’s arm’s smacked against his wrist, sending a shock of pain radiating through the limb that caused him to drop the stake he was holding. He managed to scurry back just in time to avoid the snapping jaws. “Hold it still,” he barked. “I can’t stake it and keep it from taking my pinche head off at the same time!”

That trickle of annoyance was coming back tenfold as Alex struggled to keep the vampire bat in place. It wasn’t just like this thing had limbs, it had whole ass wings. The directive to hold still did all of nothing to help the frustration brewing under the surface. If she could be keeping it any more still, she would be, though she wouldn’t acknowledge that was partially on her for letting this guy think she was also a hunter. The smell of death in the air already left an odd taste in her mouth, she didn’t need that particular brand of bitterness on her tongue, too. 

Still, the words spat out like acid. “I’m trying,” Alex grumbled as she dug her heels further into the soft mud to stabilize herself, “Merde, can you shut up about your stupid head and just stake the thing already? You can fix your hair later.” 

She dug her nails into the limbs of the bat and mustered every last bit of strength she had in her now aching body. Alex had to steady her own breathing as she noticed the sensation in her fingers threatening to turn her nails into something a little more lethal. The last thing this shitshow needed was a transformed werewolf, so she channeled all of herself into getting her grip and keeping a grip on the stupid vampire long enough for some connard slayer to do his damn thing. “Any day now,” she chided. 

“Not if you let this asshole eat it, I can’t!” Where had this kid trained? Why hadn’t anyone taught her how to utilize her strength properly? Emilio thought about Flora without meaning to, of the temptation not to train a hunter child and the danger that came when you let in to it. Maybe someone thought they’d been doing this kid a favor, too, but they hadn’t. Not if she was stubborn enough to try to stick around to help fight things that went bump in the night without the ability to back it up.

With a newfound determination, she seemed to manage to still the lapir just a little more. It was still squirming far more than was ideal, still bucking and thrashing and doing everything it could do to try to knock the kid off its back or get its jaws around Emilio or both, but it was going to have to do. Yanking another vial of holy water from his pocket, Emilio threw as much of it on the beast as he could to slow it down before launching himself forward, stake in hand.

This time, the stake found its home in the lapir’s chest, though not quite deep enough. A flapping wing knocked Emilio backwards, pain shooting through his elbow. Christ, he’d be pissed if that was broken. “Just… a little… more,” he grunted, shooting forward again, this time shoulder-first. He threw his full weight against the stake still sticking out of the lapir’s chest, driving it in further. Then, he reared back and did it again. Not the most efficient way of doing things, but with how much the bat was still moving, he didn’t have a whole lot of options. 

Who was more annoying? The slayer or the vampire bat? At this point, Alex would confidently say both were giant pains in the ass. In reality, she was more frustrated with herself that she couldn’t hold the damn thing still and could hear an echo of her father somewhere in the back of her mind that she ignored. All the wishing in the world wouldn’t give her the strength she was supposed to be born with and that wasn’t the slayer’s fault, but the level of expectation in the air triggered something in her. Despite the fact it felt like the force of the vampire thrashing was about to pull her limbs clean off her body, she cemented herself in place and held on as tightly as she could. 

When he finally drove the stake into the bat, Alex thought it was finally over and for the briefest second, relaxed all the tensed muscles in her body. It was short-lived as the thing still struggled in her hold. “Fuck,” she grumbled, tightening her hold yet again as she waited for the slayer to do.. Something. She immediately regretted that course of action as he came barreling into the monster she was currently holding. Sure, it was driving the stake in further, but each moment of impact sent a new jolt of pain through her arms. “Putain de merde! Espèce de chèvre stupide,” she shouted, ready to completely chew the man out before the last blow sent the stake right through its heart. 

“What the fuck was that,” Alex spat. Was she referring to the creature they’d just killed, his little headbutting moment, or his whole attitude? She didn’t even know herself. 

He was doing the best he could here. With the lapir still moving as much as it was, it was difficult to do anything precisely. It was mostly luck that had landed the stake in the right position to begin with, and while his slayer strength was helpful in driving it the rest of the way in, Emilio could exactly use said strength if he couldn’t get close enough. So it took some doing. So what? It wasn’t graceful, wasn’t elegant, but it got the job done. His mother would have insulted the method, but even she wouldn’t have been able to deny the result.

Apparently, the hunter kid who hadn’t done her pinche job still could, though.

Frustration built up in Emilio’s gut, driven by the ache of his arm where the lapir’s wing had hit it and the bruised ribs he’d earned trying to drive the stake home. “Which part? The part where you said you’d hold that pendejo still and then didn’t? Because I’m kind of wondering about that, too.” He’d feel bad later, for snapping. The kid didn’t really deserve it — she was still just a kid, after all. Probably still learning, just a little. Most hunter parents didn’t start their kids off quite as young as Elena Cortez had, after all. But the frustration was there anyway, the ever-present anger in Emilio’s gut just as white-hot as it always was. “If you don’t know how to fight a lapir, you tell me that before it starts trying to kill us. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“It was your idea for me to hold down the bat that’s like twice my fucking size,” Alex spat back, more frustrated that he was right than anything else. No amount of training and time spent in the gym could make up for the fact that she got the shitty end of the genetic lottery and didn’t get the hunter genes from her parents. The frustration in his voice reminded her too much of her own father’s annoyance that none of his lessons seemed to stick. She could hold the blade the right way, but without the strength to back up, it’d never make any purchase. It was easier to be mad at the person in front of her though, instead of unpacking every shortcoming she ever had and what it meant for her. “Not my fault your plan was stupid.” 

Alex crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the way it made her left shoulder sear in pain. At least she could shove the open bite on her hand into her jacket in hopes of slowing the bleeding. She refused to look any weaker than she already had, not when he was laying into her about how she couldn’t fight the lapir. It all felt so distant, but so familiar at the same time. “It was trying to kill me before you even got here,” she snapped, “And I didn’t ask for your help.” 

Backing down was an option, Alex knew it was. She could let it go, thank the guy for not leaving her there for dead, maybe even end this whole shitshow of an encounter on a good note. It was tempting, collecting some small scrap of approval from a hunter, one that didn’t love her out of a sense of obligation, like the stray dog she was. And it’d only be because he couldn’t sense her to feel the disgust like a ranger could. The lump that had lodged itself in her throat seemed to triple in size and made her stomach lurch. The scent of death that was heavy in the air only made it worse. She turned a little too quickly on her feet, tripping slightly over a wayward twig, and picked up the rosary she’d dropped in the midst of the fight that was now caked in crunched leaves and blood. She wanted to launch it back at him, but the mobility in her shoulders was shot to hell, so she lazily held her arm out. “Here’s your jewelry.” 

“Because you said you could handle it!” Not in so many words, perhaps, but she’d certainly carried the confidence of someone who was capable of so much more than she’d displayed here. And maybe that was on Emilio for believing her. Maybe he should have been more apprehensive, maybe he shouldn’t have let the fact that she’d moved like a hunter convince him that she was prepared to fight like one. After being around hunters all his life, he’d jumped to certain conclusions here. But maybe they’d been the wrong ones. Some training didn’t mean someone was proficient enough to take out something that wasn’t in their usual wheelhouse. He should have just insisted she go. “It was a good plan. We’re alive, aren’t we?”

She was injured, and there was a part of him that was hyperaware of that. It was the same part of him that used to panic when Flora fell while toddling around in the living room, the same part that ached when she woke up in the middle of the night in tears. It was also the same part of him that his mother had chastised him for endlessly, the part that made him weak and vulnerable and a liability. There was no room for it in a hunter’s mind. Emilio did his best to smother it now in a way he hadn’t been able to then. He wasn’t sure how good a job he did. “Oh, my mistake. Next time, I guess I just let it kill you and then fly into town and kill a few people there, too. That’s what you want?” 

He couldn’t smother that worry completely, it turned out. She turned and she stumbled, and some of that anger seemed to melt away in a way it wouldn’t have if she’d been a little older, if she’d reminded him a little less of something he’d lost. Emilio took a step forward, taking the rosary and inspecting the hand that held it out to him. “Did it bite you?” He didn’t touch her, but it was a close thing. Close enough to scrutinize, but not quite making contact. “You’ll need to keep an eye on it. It will probably get infected, but it usually passes fine. Just don’t die before it’s healed.” His voice was still gruff, but not quite as harsh now. He was bad at this, but better than he would have been with someone closer to his own age. “And you can keep this.” He dropped the rosary back into her hand. “Might need it, in a town like this one. Especially if you’re going to be out in the woods.”

The sting left by the cuts of his words hit a little too close to home for her liking. Even so many years later, Alex could remember the frustration in her father’s voice when she didn’t pick things up like Andy always had. Those weren’t the memories she tried to hold onto, they weren’t the way she wanted to remember her father, but for some reason those were the ones that always fought tooth and claw to make their way to the surface. She felt as small as she did when she was six years old, hands and arms bloodied from the agropelter she had insisted she was ready for. ‘Comme on fait son lit,en se couche. I told you that you weren’t prepared.’ The first aid kit had been haphazardly tossed her way before she left to clean her wounds and the blood splattered walls. 

She wanted to scream, tell him to fuck off yet again. She wanted to be strong enough to prove him wrong, that she could have handled it on her own, but that would never be her. Alex was the defective Durand kid, through and through and she felt just as small as she did back in that shed. Instead of biting back with another scathing remark or French insult, she simply nodded, unable to fight or muster an apology. 

The lump that had lodged itself in her throat made her take a long pause before she answered his question. Alex looked down at the hand in question and shook her head. “No,” she croaked, “That’s from a tree.” As if he already didn’t think she was every bit as incompetent as she was. She straightened up, even if his tone softened, she still felt too vulnerable. The only thing she wanted was to sneak into Andy’s bedroom the way she did when they were kids and forget about this whole encounter. “Figured it was smarter to take a little tussle with the tree than let it come at me teeth first,” she noted, the irony not entirely lost on her, “But uh…” She shuffled on her heels and fidgeted with the rosary. “Thanks… Rosary guy.” It was nicer than stupid goat this time, at least. 

He was being too harsh. He knew he was being too harsh, ached with the way he could hear his mother’s voice in his words. This was never who Emilio had wanted to be, even when he’d thought it was. He still remembered the panic clawing its way up his throat when Flora was born, when his mother was already commenting about training the first time he held the baby in his arms. We’ll have to figure out if she’s a slayer like her father or a ranger like her mother first. That should be simple enough. Once she can walk, we’ll start with the big things. She can’t fall behind, mijo. As if Flora was anything but perfect, as if she was already as big a disappointment as her father had turned out to be. 

He’d certainly never wanted to be this, with heavy breathing and a pounding heart and unearned anger burning in his chest. But he saw the kid in front of him, bleeding and hurt and still so stubbornly insisting that she could take care of herself just fine despite all evidence to the contrary, and he was back in that living room again. He was tripping over bodies in the floor, he was getting blood on the soles of his shoes, he was being reminded that wanting to save someone was never the same as actually saving them. Flora died because he hadn’t prepared her for a world that wanted, more than anything, to snuff her out of it. And right now? All Emilio could think was how badly that same world wanted to snuff out this kid, too. 

That didn’t make the hurt expression on her face sting any less, of course. He still felt like a piece of shit as she paused, but he would have felt like a bigger piece of shit if she’d been hurt worse here, too. He knew that. “Well… don’t let that get infected, either, then. Clean it up, stitch it if you have to.” As if he could give anyone medical advice after attempting to heal his own wounds with duct tape and going out on a hunt immediately afterwards. Ah, well. What the kid didn’t know didn’t matter here. “It was smarter. Yeah. Getting hurt by a tree won’t turn you into a tree.” At least, not as far as he knew. If there was some supernatural tree out there, just waiting to turn people into wood, Emilio figured he’d rather remain ignorant of it. He offered her a stiff nod. “Emilio,” he replied. “Not Rosary Guy. Emilio. Rolls off the tongue a little better, I think.” A poor attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, to ease that tightness in his chest, to make him feel a little less like the worst person in the goddamn world. He wasn’t sure it’d be even remotely successful, but it was worth a shot. 

“Yeah,” Alex agreed softly, the fight all but snuffed out of her, “I’ll clean it up. Have my sister or cousin take a look.” Because they were probably better at that, too. Both she and the slayer had taken on lighter tones, but the brevity of the moment still felt heavy in the air. Like even though the fight was over, there was still a weight pressing down on both of them. She cursed that her lack of ranger abilities made her so in tune with people’s mannerisms as some form of compensation. She wanted the anger back. She wanted to hate the guy, who sure, saved her, but would likely stick that stake in her chest just as fast if he knew what she was. Because wasn’t anger easier than inevitable disappointment? 

“I don’t know,” Alex joked in return, though it didn’t flow off her lips with her normal joking cadence, “Rosary Guy rolls pretty nicely, but I’ll call you Emilio.” She’d normally throw in a shrug for a good show of nonchalance, but the pain in her muscles was still far too sharp to attempt that without a visible grimace. “I’m Alex,” she added, “I’ll just uh–” She straightened her jacket and readjusted her backpack. “Head home, let you get back to it…” 

“All right. Good.” He didn’t know what to say to her, now that the fight was over. That had always been Emilio’s problem, hadn’t it? He was fine in a fight. He could throw punches, he could take a hit, he could win just about any matchup he found himself in. But when the fight was over? All he ever did was disappoint. Too soft to be a good son, too hard to be a decent father, too uncertain to be the kind of husband his wife had wanted him to be. He’d never quite managed to fit into the boxes people felt he ought to live inside, and that wasn’t something that had changed when those people had died. He was still somehow both too soft and too hard, somehow decisive and uncertain all at once. He could save this kid from a lapir, but he couldn’t have a conversation with her after. He could love his family, but he couldn’t be the sort of person they could love back.

Her joke fell just as flat as his had, and Emilio wasn’t sure if he should be grateful that he wasn’t the only one failing to lighten the mood or upset that the mood would remain what it was. “Ah, Rosary Guy was my father,” he joked again, just as flat, just as humorless. He nodded as she offered her name, filing it away in the back of his mind. Alex. He wished he didn’t feel a rush of relief when she seemed poised to leave, but he didn’t know what else he was supposed to feel. The fight was over, and he wasn’t good for anything else. He knew that. “Right,” he agreed. “Go get your stuff taken care of, ¿sí? I’ll handle the cleanup here.”

Despite herself, Alex laughed a bit at that one. Maybe it wasn’t the anger that she was comfortable stewing in, but it was better than the sort of desolate feeling that had started sinking in. “Right,” she nodded, not really sure what to make of the fairly obvious implication with the use of past tense. Somehow she doubted Rosary Guy Senior had anything but a violent death. The thought made her throat feel impossibly dry, so she pushed it back towards the neat little box in the back of her mind for another day. “Oui,” she answered, a little easier this time, “I’ll get all cleaned up.” She shifted to leave and looked back one last time. “Uh, thanks again. Take care.” And despite the hostility displayed earlier, she found she meant the sentiment. 

#emotional abuse tw #abuse tw #parental death tw #child death tw #threads; with emilio; bite the hand #wr emilio #wr writing #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing #(the moonlight's blinding) ;; season 1 writing

[sheyshocked]

Family Is More Than Blood (1/?)

Chapter title: Emma’s Terrible Idea Leads Daniel Into an Uncomfortable Situation

Summary: Daniel lives the life of his dreams. He has a loving family, a child to care for, and a purpose. But then things start to get complicated when Emma convinces her parents to buy him a "girlfriend", a lady android, so he wouldn't be so lonely when they are away.

Ship: None

Warnings: Non-con between an android and his owner, physical and emotional abuse of an android, mentions of androids not having genitalia by default, but having optional upgrades

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Found Family, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daniel & Simon (Detroit: Become Human) are Twins, John Phillips (Detroit: Become Human) Is Not a Good Man, Ken Doll Android Anatomy | Androids Have No Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealous Daniel (Detroit: Become Human), Alive Daniel (Detroit: Become Human)

You can also read it on ao3!

Daniel loved his family. That was... part of the problem. As an android designed only to serve, he wasn’t supposed to feel anything. Much less such a complex emotion as an affection. But he did.

He enjoyed spending time with Emma, his little troublemaker. Got upset when something didn’t go his way. Preened whenever Mr. Phillips praised his cooking (which always earned him a glare from Mrs. Phillips, who then ordered him to do something productive rather than hanging around when they ate).

There was definitively something wrong with him. Maybe he was already built broken. Who knows.

In any case, he should immediately contact the CyberLife store and get whatever was wrong with his brain repaired. And in his defense, he was about to do it a few times. But in the end, he always chickened out and hung up on them. Later, he would slowly slide down to the floor with his back pressed to the wall, knees hugged to his chest, just like he had seen Emma do from time to time when her parents were fighting.

If he was sure about one thing in his short existence, it was that he didn’t want to get fixed.

“Daniel! Come watch a movie with me!” Emma called back from the living room where she was playing with her dollies, instantly making him snap out of his brooding state and look up from his work.

Watching cartoons was not part of his evening routine, and although it sounded tempting, the orders he received from Mr. and Mrs. Phillips left no room for arguing. Do the cooking, washing, cleaning up the entire apartment, help Emma with her homework, then wait for their return. Simple as that. But... he was mostly done anyway and the little girl seemed so excited about it!

She was bouncing up and down on the couch like a baby goat, which send some of the black and white cushions flying across the room (her mother would be furious if she saw that – good thing she was still out with her husband).

Conflicting directives – choosing priorities...

“Only if you promise to stop making such a mess,” he teased back, already putting away the cloth. That last shelf in need of dusting would have to wait. He dismissed the memory of the crimson wall which used to keep him from disobeying. Now that he thought of it, he hasn’t seen it for a while... The only one he ran into every once in a while was made entirely by himself. Yet another anomaly that would probably get him in a lot of trouble if someone was about to find out.

MAKE THE PHILLIPS HAPPY.

At first, Emma stuck her tongue out at him, but unfortunately for her, Daniel knew how to be stubborn too. He waited with his arms crossed until she finally obeyed, rolling her eyes as she did so, grunting out a silent: “All right, all right, I promise. Spoilsport.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he gave her one of his cheekiest smiles and sat down on the couch next to her, careful not to occupy too much space. However, as soon as he settled down, Emma threw her arms around his neck, cuddling up to him.

So much for being a rebellious youth, he chuckled. Not gonna lie though, that small gesture got him beaming. He gingerly put an arm over her shoulder and turned on the TV with a flick of his LED.

He knew that show. It was one of Emma’s favorites and by now, he had it memorized from the very beginning to the end, knew each character, and could sing every song there was. But it was funny to watch the girl’s reactions. To laugh with her at the same old jokes that sometimes made a little to no sense to him, and hold her tighter when the villain showed up.

In the final scene, the two main protagonists shared a quick peck on the lips. Nothing inappropriate for young audiences, and Emma usually deflected it with a loudly proclaimed “yuck”, but today, she became restless, her big eyes glued to the PL600’s face instead of the flashing screen.

“Daniel? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, cuddlebug. What is it?”

The little girl made a face, as usual, never failing to make him smile. “Stop calling me a cuddlebug! I’m a young miss, just so you know!”

“Ah, my bad, miss. Now tell me, what’s bothering you?”

She kept playing with her friendship bracelet, the one she made herself (she gave him one too, so they would match – Daniel has never felt prouder and happier to be a part of her family), an obvious sign she was nervous out of her mind. Or feeling guilty. Goodness gracious, what has she done now? This was the second time this week – just this week! – that he had to cover some of her mischiefs so that her parents (especially her mother) wouldn’t get mad at her.

“Do you ever… get lonely when I’m at school and my parents are away?”

“Emma,” he sighed, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion. This was new. What was he supposed to say? No one asks an android something like this! “Androids don’t get lonely. It’s not in our –”

“Come on. Not even a tiny bit?”

His LED flashed red for a moment. “...Sometimes,” he finally admitted.

“I knew it,” the little girl drew away with a determined look on her face. Oh no. “Maybe we should get you a girlfriend.”

...Okay. This was even worse than he imagined.

“Wait, hold on. A what?”

“A girlfriend. You know, a lady android, so you wouldn’t feel as lonely anymore.”

No way, Daniel wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. His head was already swarming with dozens of worst-case scenarios. What if Emma came to like the “lady android” better than him? Or worse, what if her parents ended up replacing him? He’s getting obsolete, after all… But he quickly banished that thought. Of course they wouldn’t do that – they loved him! Surely they wouldn’t...

Before he had time to overthink too much, he was interrupted by the sound of the lift door sliding open, announcing the arrival of the rest of the Phillips clan.

“Mom! Dad! You’re home!” Emma squealed and ran to greet her parents, throwing herself at them the second they entered the room. Her joy almost made Daniel forget what was troubling him in the first place. Not for long, though. “Listen, I have a plan – let’s get another android, a lady this time, so Daniel wouldn’t feel lonely being here all alone during the day!”

Her father let out a nervous chuckle. “Lonely? Baby girl, where did you get that nonsense? Only people can be lonely, not androids!”

Emma pursed her lips and was ready to argue back, something Daniel feared the most, but Mrs. Phillips quickly put an end to it with a stern voice: “Absolutely not. We can’t afford another android right now. Or ever! Why don’t we just buy you a new fish instead?”

Mrs. Phillips always seemed much more distant than her husband, perhaps even a bit resentful of Daniel at times, but right now, he couldn’t help himself cheering her on. Thank goodness at least she had some semblance of reason!

“Yeah, well,” Mr. Phillips scratched himself behind the ear, seemingly deep in the thought. Good god. He was considering it, wasn’t he? “It’s true that Daniel is getting a bit too slow lately.”

Daniel’s hands were shaking and he didn't know why. Saline moisture filled his eyes, blurring his vision. This wasn’t fair. Yeah, sure, the years weren’t kind to him. Perhaps there are more efficient android models on the market nowadays. But he loved his job, adored his family more than anything in his life, and performed his best even when it wasn’t easy! That had to count for something, right?

Right?

“Sir, I can assure you, I’m still working to my –” he tried to explain himself (what an insolence, androids don’t get to speak up –), only to be silenced by Mr. Phillips’ hand on his shoulder, which squeezed him a little bit tighter than usual. A friendly warning.

He immediately bit his lip and made no sound. The red wall may be gone, but he still wanted to be good for his family. For them to love him. It wasn’t his fault he was getting too old for a thing that was meant to last only until they come up with a better model. Faster. Stronger. With more skills.

Even thinking about himself as an inanimate object made his stomach turn. He wasn’t a smartphone to be disposed of, he was a living being!

...Oh, he was definitively in too deep, wasn’t he?

“Now now, Daniel. I think a little bit of assistance with chores would surely help you out, wouldn’t it?”

He lowered his head in defeat. “...Yes, sir.”

Seeing how pliant he got, Mr. Phillips graced him with a smile (which sent a small wave of electric shocks down his circuits – he has been good, he deserved to be rewarded) and turned back to his wife, saying: “See, Caroline? Not to mention I got a raise last week, so money shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, who says we have to buy a brand new model? Pre-owned is much cheaper!”

“Have you completely lost your mind?! You are worse than the child,” his wife started screaming at him, and Daniel instinctively drew Emma closer to him, covering her ears so she wouldn’t have to listen to her parents arguing (although she tried to escape his grasp). “Do you realize how much it costs us every month to keep just a single android?!”

Hearing them talking about him like he was only a nuisance that cost them money hurt. But he knew they didn’t mean it. They were just concerned about their home budget. People say mean things in the heat of the moment all the time.

Emma finally managed to wiggle out of his arms and tugged at her mother’s sleeve. She used her ultimate weapon that no one could ever resist – her large puppy eyes. “Mommy, please? Pretty please?”

Hard to say why Daniel still hoped Mrs. Phillips would be tougher than he was, but he ended up being disappointed anyway. Even the cold and strict matriarch of the family wasn’t immune to her daughter’s teary eyes. She caved in with a sigh. “Fine, guess we can’t talk you out of this. But you need to behave from now on if you want that android, am I being clear?”

Emma nodded so hard that her ponytail jumped up and down her shoulders. “I will, promise! Thanks, mom! You’re the best!”

Mrs. Phillips, already reconciled with their fate, which seemed somehow significantly worse for Daniel, rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand as if she were suffering from a very persistent migraine. She might as well be.

“All right, all right. We’ll go to the store tomorrow, to see if there are any cheap pre-owned androids.”

“Daniel should come with us,” Emma suddenly blurted out, taking all of them by surprise. Including the poor android in question. “So he could choose his girlfriend!”

Judging from the way Mrs. Phillips rolled her eyes and folded her arms on her chest, her opinion on this topic was clear. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately), her husband once again proved himself to be much more considerate. He shrugged and gave Daniel a friendly pat on the shoulder. Despite the panic that was raging inside the android’s mind, the gesture warmed his heart up a bit.

“I mean, why not? It’s a gift for him, after all.”

Daniel forced a smile, despite seeing his life falling apart like a poorly constructed cabin. This was a nightmare. But he would deal with it. His hands clenched into fists.

So they wanted a shiny new female android? Fine. As long as she stayed out of his way, things would be just all right between the two of them. But if she ever strived to replace him or make him look bad in the eyes of the family... Well, then she better buckle up, because he would ensure to make her life in this household as miserable as possible.

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh fanfiction #dbh daniel #dbh simon #dbh emma #dbh caroline phillips #dbh john phillips #family is more than blood #shey scribbles #multiple chapters

[demiace-wen-ning]

Wen Ning really said “I’ll keep all my emotions right here and then, one day, I’ll die” and stuck to it, huh?

#Like he fucking did that #he spend his entire life keeping his emotions stored in his chest and then he fucking died #and then a lifetime of repressed emotions turned into resentful energy once he became a fierce corpse #and that’s why he’s so powerful #wen ning #mdzs

[burnedbyshoto]

bakugou leaving reader for the unknown, for his dream, because where they were wasn’t good enough, it was a hindrance on his future. it wasn’t so much that he hated his hometown, the people, or even you — he loved you, after all — but he just could never keep himself tied down to the place he was trying to outgrow.

he leaves for university, in the big city, a campus that is known for making the best, creating trailblazers in every field imaginable, and when he leaves at the age of eighteen, he doesn’t come back. all he remembers is the shocked look on your face and the helpless tears streaming down your face when he broke up with you.

it’s been twelve years, and he’s thirty now. he changed his number when he got to the new city, only keeping touch with his parents out of obligation than anything else. it’s short phone calls, three minute conversations of mitsuki scolding him for not calling enough, for never visiting, masaru trying to gently express their concerns for their only son, and of course, bakugou saying he needs to leave.

his parents are strangers to him, practically, and whenever they try to speak of his past life, the one he exchanged away for the current CEO position he’s found himself in, he hangs up. he doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want the bitter pit in his stomach when they even begin to speak your name.

but they haven’t mentioned you in years.

but the thing about katsuki is, unfortunately, his attitude.

thirty years old and a prominent CEO of a company no older than four years old and yet already a billionaire? practically unheard of. sure, people, normal people, praise him for it, but the board? men who used to people like katsuki don’t praise him.

they hate his harsh attitude, his ridiculous will power, and necessity to do everything, and somehow… katsuki gets put on a leave of absence for a minimum of a year.

at first, it’s fine. bakugou spends the newfound free time traveling, seeing the world, doing things he never was able to because he was building his empire. but three months of nothing leads him to grow restless, bored, and the worst feeling in the world crawls into the pit of his stomach and he realizes in month number five what it is.

for the first time in his life, bakugou katsuki is: homesick.

so he goes home, trading the concrete jungle and modern technology for dirt roads and rusting machines. it’s just for a moment, he says as he sees the life he left behind ages ago.

it’s much slower in his hometown, people much more open and conversing with one another instead of cellphones like he’s grown used to. he isn’t quite ready to knock on his mother’s front door so he goes to the general store and walks straight to where he just knows his past time favorite snacks are.

to his total surprise (notice the sarcasm?) it’s right where he remembered it was through the cobwebs of his memory. there’s one bag of spicy corn chips left and as he reached for it, another hand goes for it too.

he freezes for a bit, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at the person who’s hand is connected to the bag of chips he wants.

but he stops breathing for just a moment.

it’s a young girl, most definitely no older than twelve, with your face. it’s exactly the same. but unlike you, the girl had ash blonde hair and deep red eyes.

the girl blinks eyes looking taken back and slightly lost, as does bakugou, and then as if finally caught up on the situation of things, she scowls.

“hands off the chips, old man! I got here first!”

the magic is gone and bakugou feels his eye twitch as he reels backward.

“what the hell did you just say to—?!”

“I said hands off! arent you too old to be eating chips anyways?! you’re practically a million years old, eat the lame corn nuts or something,” she scoffs rolling her eyes as she tucks the bag of chips under her arm.

“aren’t you some shitty little brat!” bakugou hisses, his hand twitching with irritation. “don’t you know to respect your fucking elders.”

“ain’t nothing to respect from what I can tell!”

“aiko, hurry up,” a voice bemoans from behind the aisle and bakugou feels his chest constrict in the weirdest, most heart aching way as you walk around the corner with an armful of party supplies. “we have to get to your grand—”

bakugou stares at you, and you at him. the tension and silence so thick and heavy on the both of your shoulders and tongues.

in the twelve years he’s been away, bakugou has had other relationships. most of them due mostly to friends insistence, and others mostly just because he wanted a warm body nearby. but no one could ever match what you meant to him, not that he could have realized that because he could never think back to you. you were his past, not his present, not his future.

and bakugou was suddenly feeling a lot of things, thinking a lot of things as he looked between you and well… aiko.

“y/n,” bakugou’s voice is hollow, almost unbelievable. “i-is she — are we—?”

“this is my daughter, y/l/n aiko,” you say, steely calm and dangerous. the warm smile you were wearing moments ago clean off your face and your eyes were like glass — shiny, unemotional. “she was born after you left, so you never got a chance to meet her, did you?”

“y/n—“

“y/l/n!” you snap, face still void of emotions. “you don’t have that right anymore.”

bakugou stiffens for a moment, but he knows that you’re right. “y/l/n,” he tries again, your last name a word he’s never had to use in his entire life to address you. “how old is she?”

“mama,” aiko whispers, eyes glaring at bakugou as she stand protectively in front of you, fingers digging into your blouse. “I wanna go now.”

your eyes drop from bakugou, and he watches as a strained but kind smile is expressed to aiko as you press a kiss to her forehead. “okay, go pay for these things for me, will ya? tell tayo-sama we’ll pay him back tomorrow. i’m going to finish this conversation with… with my old classmate.”

aiko looks between you and bakugou, eyebrows furrowed with unsaid questions but she nods, grabbing the things from your arms and going to the cash register. bakugou keeps his gaze on the young girl until your fingers dig into his bicep and your pulling him into a corner that he had definitely made out with you in ages, lifetimes ago.

“what are you doing here?!” you hiss in a near terrible whisper, face frazzled and overwhelmed. “you’ve never been back home! what’s different?!”

“is she mine?!”

“no!” you shriek, fist hitting his chest. “she’s not yours! she’s mine! she’s not some claimable object you get to collect years later!”

bakugou stiffens but also feels like he melts with guilt under those words… youre right. he has no claim to her. all he did was give her life but it was a life where he was probably nothing more than an empty space in. but he looks at you, millions of emotions swimming through your watery eyes, and the snarl on your lips as you stand before him as if you could do anything.

“i’m… i’m sorry, you’re right,” bakugou says, lips pressing into a thin line.

“you shouldn’t have come back,” you laugh miserably, fingers massaging your temples. your tone is weak, defeated, as if for the first time in your life you felt the bottom of the pit. “why did you come back home?”

“mama!!!! let’s go already!!!” aiko whines by the entrance and you tremble in front of him before shaking your head.

“coming!” you call back to her.

bakugou steals another look at what is his daughter. a girl he never knew existed.

“do me a favor, bakugou,” you say passing him with small but domineering steps. “don’t do anything to make her suspect youre her father.”

it took a few hours, probably more, maybe less, but bakugou finally finds himself at his childhood home. he’s heart feeling like it was being swallowed as the front door opened and he saw his older mother and father standing at the entrance. bakugou couldn’t understand what they were saying as they welcomed him in, he could only notice how their home looked exactly the same… well except that the walls that were decorated with photos of him and only him were also covered with pictures of aiko.

“did you know?” bakugou asks before he can even say hello.

mitsuki stopped mid rant, her face moving from irritated mother to exasperated but pitiful silence.

“since she found out.”

“why didn’t you… why didn’t I know?”

“she tried telling you, called you multiple times only to be blocked,” masaru gently explains. “you always shut us down when we so much as mentioned her.”

“she even flew out there at one point but caught you making out with some dumb model too.” mitsuki inserts with a huff. “we tried, brat. you just…”

bakugou is silent, his heartbeat roaring in his ears at the thought of his initial monstrous attempt of deleting his past life. mitsuki sighs, sad and sullen.

“there was no point in telling you when you won’t listen.”

or the story of a one sided bitter ex as bakugou and reader are challenged at creating some semblance of a relationship because aiko pieces it together the moment they looked at each other. including a lot of angst, a six month time limit to rekindle a once in a lifetime love story because choosing between family and work is damn hard.

#I watched that one movie with the singer & his high school lover and was like how do I make this a story #this is all I can think of #lyssa doesnt shut up #bakugou x reader

[quillsareswords]

I keep my visions to myself

D. WAYNE X READER

SUMMARY: Damian has never loved simply, for short stints, or with restraint.

WARNINGS: vague mention of kids, mention of a wedding dress

MASTERLIST and REQUESTS in BIO

Damian Wayne rarely thinks in short-term. He plans his weeks on Sunday, decides what to wear the day before, sorts his belongings by easy of access, and makes his plans according to weather and atmospheric pressures and what he ate for breakfast.

He's all calculations and predictions. He expects everything so that he's ready for everything.

He wasn't ready for you. Not how weak your smile makes him, how safe he feels in your arms, or how easily he falls asleep next to you. He wasn't ready to have someone so important to him so early in life.

He's never loved lightly, either. From the moment he realized his feelings were reciprocated, he's been all in. If people really do feel emotion in specific parts of themselves, he feels his love for you everywhere. His arms tingle and his hairs stand on end when your hands skate up them. His chest melts and seizes and melts again when you stare him so lovestruck. His hands tremor just so slightly when they decide yours are too far away. His whole face is a puppet on strings tied up to tour fingers, betraying all will he has when you make him smile and laugh or crumble and wilt on your behalf. Even his knees go weak when you smile at him just right. But all that is for a different story.

He doesn't think in short-term. He thinks in permanent effects and affects. His brain winds through domino lines that race through time differently depending on the choices he makes, each decision knocking into the next. And these days, most of his dominos have your name on them.

He sees the future in every minute of the day. He makes predictions constantly, about the weather and which stores will be out if business and how annoyed he'll be by the end of the day.

And it's a future you're part of. Even some instances you don't entirely belong, the thought of you is hovering on the outskirts.

If he thinks of getting food or a coffee after class, he wonders if you'd like some too. If there's a chance of rain, he questions if you've got an umbrella (or if you'd like to share his). If he hears your favorite band, he's wondering if they'll be on tour soon.

You're visiting the Manor one random afternoon in early May. A long day of classes has you slinging your book bag to the floor of his bedroom and flopping down on his mattress. You're laying on your back, arms sprawled to either side, on a bare mattress before Damian had the chance to get the clean sheets back on. You flop down tiredly on a bare mattress with a long, relieved huff. All of a sudden, he's imagining you collapsing on a new mattress after a long day of stacking boxes, excited for the first night in your new shared apartment. Penthouse. A penthouse with tall ceilings and a big kitchen and an open floor plan and plenty of space for family to visit. Time resumes, and you ask why he's still standing by his bedroom door.

You're helping him remake the bed and he goes quiet when he starts thinking about making a shared bed on a random Saturday morning with you chattering on about what you might do with the rest of the day.

You link your am with his on a walk through the gardens behind the Manor and he accidently zones out halfway through a conversation about endangered species of plant because would that penthouse have space for a little garden? Window boxes, maybe? A balcony spotted with potted plants? Fresh herbs in the kitchen window?

One of your friends makes a joke about you being an old married couple at lunch and he spirals. Married catches him first. What kind of wedding would you have? What color scheme? How many guests? What flavor of cake? What time if year? What sort of venue? His heart just about explodes in his chest at the thought of you in a wedding dress. And then he's staring straight through his water glass while he daydreams about growing old with you—no matter how far fetched his current lifestyle makes it.

And there are thoughts and predictions he shoves aside. What your last wishes might be. What your will might say. How many people would turn up at your funeral. What kind of casket your family may choose—it would have to be the rest of your family, weather you were married or not; he wouldn't be able to bear it. If you'd cry at his funeral or if you'd do all your grieving in private.

But lord help him if he ever catches sight of you with a child in your arms. He could spend hours on that one.

But for all his daydreaming and non-committal planning, he's careful about how often he allows himself to really dwell on any of it. Mindful of how long he spends thinking about the long term.

After all, what's the future worth to him if you're dozing off with your head in his lap in the present?

#Damian Wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne blurb

[omiscurls]

I love your writing and how much you’re able to bring out the true personalities of each character!! I was wondering if you could do Kaeya, Xiao, Diluc, Zhongli, and Childe celebrating y/n’s bday. (My birthday was a couple of days ago but I didn’t receive any greetings from my genshin team for some reason... 😔)

happy birthday

a/n: SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! as for your problem, have you tried looking in character>voiceover>voicelines? the wishes should appear there, i dont know what happened if they don't

plot: celebrating the reader's birthday

contains: kaeya, diluc, tartaglia, xiao, zhongli

warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, otherwise pure fluff

kaeya

a surprise party

to be completely honest, kaeya barely cares about his own birthday enough to even remember the date

and obviously he does remember yours, how could he not, but- he's just not used to celebrating, you know?

so watch him know very well your birthday is coming up, with a mindset like: "okay, you've got time, you'll figure something great out, it's gonna be amazing"

and the day or two before he realizes, he indeed wants to do something great and amazing, but he completely ran out of time

fortunately, who cares about reservations when your brother's a bar owner, right?

he figures out that if he waits till sunset with the party he still has an entire day he can spend of preparing everything he needs

so as you sleep peacefully, he sneaks out of the room at the break of dawn, ready to work his ass off

he doesn't want you feeling bad, after all, right?

the thing is, you do start to feel a bit bad, as an entire morning goes by, and not only is kaeya nowhere in sight, literally nobody is! you walk through the streets of mondstadt, looking for any familiar face to spend the time with, but the city seems awfully empty of your friends. you end up having fun at diona's cat's tail, her complaining about everyone, and you, surprisingly, joining in, but it still doesn't replace the companion of your friends.

you go over your day as per usual, and decide to bake yourself a cake, since you think that'll cheer you up. you run out of flour, though, so it's necessary to go over to the store and stock up on some. right as you cross the city's main square, you run into diluc.

"oh, sorry, haven't seen you" you say, not even lifting up your face to look at who's chest did you bump on, until he grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"someone looks dejected" he says, and you almost want to punch him for not realizing why. instead of doing that, however pleasing it sounds, you just shrug your shoulders. "come on, you look like you could use a special drink of mine"

and with that, he pulls you towards angel's share, letting you complain about your day, though you don't explicitly say it's your birthday, still mad he didn't remember that on his own.

"so he completely ditched you without a word?" he acts surprised and offended "that's so awful-" he continues, opening the door before you.

just as he opens it, and you hear the word "awful" you see the bar as if for the first time. flowery garlands are up beneath the ceiling, the tables are arranged differently and covered with colorful, pastel table cloths, music is playing. the backdoor is opened and you see the outside of the building decorated in a similar manner, candles and fairy lights spread all over the place.

the sun is slowly setting over the buildings visible through the back door, and the atmosphere inside borders on magical, but to top that all off-

"happy birthday!" you hear a lot of voices shout, and your eyes widen at the sight of all those who you hold dear present. you can't help but smile, seeing all of them cheer, grinning from ear to ear.

"i-" you look over at diluc "how'd you pull this off?"

you swear you saw him crack a soft smile before admitting that he in fact, didn't. you're about to ask who did, then, but you're interrupted by a silvery voice, coming from behind you.

"i did" the voice says, a hand moving to cover your eyes "wanna guess who?" you hear a whisper inches away from your ear, shaking from surprise.

affection swells in your chest as you quietly say "kaeya", your smile growing fondler, knowing that aside from all your friends, he's here too, and as a mastermind, at that.

"hope you don't hold leaving you by yourself for a couple of hours against me" he continues, arms sneaking around your waist, chin rested on your shoulder "d'ya like it?"

emotion gets the better of you, and you don't know what to say, so choose only to nod eagerly.

"a lot" you finally whisper, much to kaeya's satisfaction.

"happy birthday, then" he says, suddenly pulling away from you, as to exclaim loudly "attention everyone!!" he takes a fork to ring on his glass "i hereby declare, that the next round's on me!"

cheers fill the room, along with one "yea right" and another "like we'd believe that" before the owner of the bar speaks up as well.

"as much as i'd like to see that" diluc settles "today's drinks are on the house."

diluc

a magical evening

so he’s a fan of planning

not a diehard fan, but a fan nonetheless 

it’s just, he would rather have things planned ahead than wake up a day before and not know what to do (like a kaeya) like an idiot.

so you bet he has already calculated how much time he has left the moment you told him the date of your birthday.

unlike kaeya, he prefers to be working alone, but also likes to keep his plans a surprise. he himself hates surprises, but has to admit, doing one for someone else is quite the fun 

he stays quiet about your birthday coming up until the very last moment, and if you want to ask him if he wants to do anything with you that day, he says he already has something in mind, you know, nonchalantly. as if he hadn’t been thinking about it for archons know how long 

he’ll wake up before you just to wish you a happy birthday the moment you wake up, and he might be unusually affectionate for a bit, but don’t even bother asking what he has planned out - he won’t tell, not even if you beg. 

diluc wanted to kick you out of the house all day. “oh, there’s shopping to be done” “oh, this lady wanted to talk to you”, or “you know, come to think of it, didn’t jean say she had something she’d wanted to show you for your birthday?” every lame excuse in the book, he has used it. 

you decide to finally grant him what he so obviously wanted, and leave, choosing to walk all around the city, and even outside the gates, you make it quite a trip, not knowing when to come back. 

you smile upon thinking about how secretive he tried to be, but how even he, the mighty descendant of one of the noble families of mondstadt, a man as collected and stoic as can be, couldn’t contain his excitement. you saw all his little side smiles and the way he bit his lip a little after settling today’s rough plans with you, he was so happy, you’re satisfied just by seeing that, sometimes forgetting the real reason for why he was actively plotting something. 

you walk and walk, and then walk some more, but your legs start to hurt, and you’re growing hungry, so you decide to finally get back home. 

when you approach the winery, you can see the lights in the ballroom are lit up from a mile away. your heart can’t help but flip with excitement, since diluc hates using the room, hates throwing parties, and would much rather just forget it exists. 

it’s a beautiful venue though, looks like something out of a fairytale, and you always tell him how much you love it. it’s no surprised he decided to use it, but you can’t wait to see it anyway. 

as you get closer to the building, it becomes more and more apparent that the ballroom isn’t the only place that got upgraded to a five star level for one night and one night only. the building looks amazing, and the gates are open all the way, as if there was a party to be thrown and guests to arrive any time soon. 

but as you’re welcomed into the mansion, there’s no one else in the hall, other than a dressed up diluc, his hair in a high pony, just how you always said you liked it, wearing a suit you hadn’t seen on him since... well, you don’t even recall. 

“well, if it isn’t my honorary guest” he announces with an official tone, almost making you a bit flustered. 

“what’s all this? am i not, i don’t know, underdressed?” you giggle nervously, and he approaches you, a tiny little black box in his hand. 

“you could wear a potato sack and shine brighter than all the stars together” he says softly, showing you the little box. “and as tradition orders, happy birthday.”

you carefully open the box, a simple, silver necklace resting on the little cushion inside. you take it out, and watch the ornament, but can’t for the life of you figure out what it is. 

“you see” diluc provides an explanation “it’s a common thing to do to gift someone jewellery as a gift, and almost as common to have necklaces with your star constellation. that is, the allignment the stars were in the moment you were born. but i decided, that i wanted to give you one with the alignment that shone on the sky on the happiest day of my life. well, according to mona it did.” 

you stay silent for a second, astonished with the present, before asking 

“and that is?”

“the day we met.”

tartaglia

how to surprise your lover 101

when i tell you this boy knew EXACTLY WHAT HE WAS DOING from the moment he first thought of it

now. he loves celebrating, anything, really, the atmosphere of a party is almost magnetic to him

he grew up thinking every person deserves to have an amazing day once a year, only about themselves, so it’s very obvious to him that he IS doing something, and it needs to be huge

now, in a family as big as his, it was hard to keep things a secret, so he developed a whole plan on how to avoid having you finding out what he was planning

and that is: by having you know

it’s really getting annoying, how everybody keeps walking up to you, for a good week now, and asking if you’re excited for the big party childe’s throwing. the first time you hear it, you almost immediately run to confront him about it, since you explicitly said that a party, a big one, at that, is the last thing you want.

he obviously says that it’s nothing, and you needn’t worry about that. not that you trust his words, obviously, but you let it go, partly because you know how attached he is to the idea of a huge celebration, and partly because arguing with someone as stubborn can really be tiring.

so you settle, and fake a smile for every conversation with the alleged “guests” for your alleged party, thinking you’ll just suffer through it and then just do something with your childe the next day, having yourself plan it.

the wait is stressful, and when you finally see tartaglia walk through your bedroom door, dressed up really nicely, with a soft ribbon to tie on your eyes, so you wouldn’t see anything before it’s “time”, you almost want to ditch him, but that would be too rude.

complying begrudgingly, you let him guide you through the city, feeling the cold evening air hit your skin, wondering where did he set up this party of his, since you don’t hear anything.

oh god, is everyone gonna jump out of hiding yelling “happy birthday”? please, not that, at least not that.

when he finally unties the material covering your eyes, you see nothing but a wooden platform at the end of the harbor, with a blanket set up, some really nice-smelling food and what appears to be champagne laying on it. the sun is setting slowly behind the mountains in the distance, the only sound you hear being waves crushing on the rocks.

you can’t help but gasp.

“but” you turn around to face childe with a questioning look “what about the party?”

“what party?” he looks surprised “i never said anything about any party” he adds with a knowing smirk.

as you analyze your surroundings, he watches you with a soft smile.

“come on, don’t be so shocked now” he finally says “i know you better than to plan you something you’d hate. i’m not THAT much of an asshole”

his giggle sounds almost too good in the beautiful scenery around you, and you can’t help but let your eyes water for a little while, before rapidly blinking the tears back.

“is this more similar to what you’ve dreamed of?” he asks.

“yeah” you whisper “yes, it is”

“well, that’s the only thing that matters. shall we?” his hand points to the blanket, and you nod, smiling.

this may or may not be inspired by that one episode of Brooklyn 9-9

xiao

trying something new

birthdays? what’s that

you mean to tell him he has lived two thousand years of his life without realizing the day it was brought to him should be celebrated?

yup, no, you can explain it all you want, he still doesn’t get the idea. he just finds it to be way too trivial, okay?

what gets to him, though, is that there’s a custom of doing something meaningful for the person celebrating their birthday, to make them feel important

well, you should’ve led with that, that he can do!

he would never just go and straight up ask for help if he needed any. so don’t be surprised if you hear yet more new stories about the yaksha that allegedly lives near wangshu inn sneaking into the kitchen, or watching through the glass.

he spends HOURS waiting for the chef to finally prepare the dish he hopes for, and once he does, he follows every step very carefully. and then again. and again. and one more time, up until he feels he can do it himself.

when he finally gets to enter said kitchen, it’s already way past midnight, and everything is dark, barely visible. he manages to find his way around, though, preparing all the ingredients, and starting to mix them the same way the chef did.

turns out it’s not as easy as it looks, for example, he didn’t measure how long this thing is supposed to be cooked, or on what temperature, so the process gets a little messy at one point. he might even have to start over. like, twice, tops.

it’s already nearing dusk when he finishes, taking the fruit of his works with him.

as per usual, you wait for him on the roof, and as per usual you don’t realize he’s right behind you until he speaks up.

“happy birthday” he says out of the blue, causing you to jump up in shock.

“oh my, xiao, you scared me! again!” you laugh.

“it’s today, isn’t it?” he continues, as if he didn’t hear you. when he sees you nod, he awkwardly shows you the package he held behind his back, watching closely as you open it with a questioning look.

inside, there’s a carefully wrapped serving of almond tofu, it could use a little bit of touch ups, but it still looks and smells delicious nonetheless.

“did you do this yourself?” you turn around to face him, smiling in disbelief

“mhm” he gets a little flustered, and decides not to tell you about his little kitchen adventure. “is it… is it good?” he asks, and you smile even more fondly.

“why don’t you come over here and taste it with me?”

zhongli

one can never go wrong with a classic

zhongli knows every single tradition there is to know.

literally.

so you don’t have to even tell him anything - he knows. he might not know what to do with his knowledge, but he does know what would make you happy

this man is a gentleman who believes that some moves to make someone swoon never get old

he even got a free day from work just for the occasion, or he may just think he told hu tao that he wants it? either way, he’s not there. not like his boss isn’t used to it.

right as the clock strikes 5 pm, you hear a knocking on your door. checking how you look one last time, you smile to the reflection in the mirror, and walk over to answer.

as you open said door, you find yourself dumbfounded at the sight of a completely soaked zhongli, rain pouring heavily behind his back. his hair sticks to his face, and all the layers of his suit seem drenched to their very core, but a smile you see so rarely paints his face, as he presents you with a bouquet of flowers.

and my oh my, just how huge is it! he barely even manages to hold it in hand, and the flower crowns hide his entire chest and half his face when he places them in front of you.

“i believe this is for you” he says gently “are you ready to go?”

you can’t even find the right words, as you size the bouquet up, taking it from him with a quiet “thank you so much” before taking it back to the house, already in search of the right vase to put them in.

“may i come in and dry myself up a bit?” he asks, still from the doorstep, and you laugh before granting him the permission.

when the both of you are ready to go, you meet in the hallway, both smiling softly at the other, a bit awkwardly, as the beginning of every meeting is.

“you look even better than usually” he finally says, pride rising in his chest at how your grin widens.

“same goes for you, mr zhongli” you answer just as cheekily, waiting for what he’s gonna say next.

“well, thank you, but i don’t think today’s about me now, is it?” he counters with a bit of a side eye. “shall we go?” he points to the open door, and the both of you leave, you grabbing his arm to fit under one umbrella.

“may i ask where’re we going?”

you can’t miss the way his smile turns prideful and confident as he says:

“i” he accentuates “am taking you out to dinner”

he might feel a bit offended by how sarcastically you gasp at the revelation, but it’s okay. as long as he gets to see you laugh, it’s okay.

daily reminder that requests are open [here]

#zhongli #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe #childe x reader #zhongli fluff #xiao fluff #diluc fluff #kaeya fluff #childe fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff

[staticscreenwriting]

Where the heart is // B. B.

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) are getting a divorce because they are silly and both love the other so damn much. (Happy Ending!)

TW: Talk of divorce. Talk of potential pregnancy and babies.

A/N: Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.] 

TAGLIST: Find the link to join my taglist in my bio. Will reblog this post with the taglist attached seperately. 

Waking up from this nightmare How's your life, what's it like there? Is it all what you want it to be? Does it hurt when you think about me? And how broken my heart is

The apartment is deadly quiet as Bucky steps inside, only the rattling of his keys echoing through the halls that once seemed so warm and inviting are now but a cold reminder of what used to be.

People never really talk about these moments. The after. The wreckage. The ruins of what used to be. Sure there are movies and books and countless songs but they take the feeling and they wrap it up in beautiful words and prose and make something beautiful of it.

There’s nothing beautiful in the way Bucky feels as his feet drag him towards what used to be his bedroom, which is now hers. There’s nothing beautiful in the way he feels as his eyes wander over to the closed door behind which lays an empty room. One that is empty not because of choice but because of the shitty cards life has dealt both him and her.

There is nothing beautiful about the way he feels. Only sadness. Only hurt.

When he turns the corner and steps into the bedroom, his heart drops for a second. He hadn’t expected her to be here, not with how quiet the place is. But sure enough, there she is. Sitting on the fluffy comforter they bought together, legs tucked underneath herself. She said that comforter was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes. Now she doesn’t even lift her head to look at him, focusing only on the box resting on the bed before her.

“Hey uh — I didn’t expect to run into you.”  

“ I live here. Sorry to disappoint.“

“ I know, that’s not what I meant. It’s just so quiet. “

She shrugs but still doesn’t look up. There’s so much resentment there, dripping from every word. He can’t fault her for it. Not even a little. If he was her, he’d hate himself too. Maybe this will make it easier for them. If she hates him, that’s a straight cut. Right? Hating is easy. It’s loving that’s hard.

“ It’s like that now. You here to get some of your stuff?” she asks, looking up at him for the first time. Her eyes are red and tired. Not like they were when he left, filled with tears and sorrow. Now they’re just infinitely sad and exhausted. Like all the life and all the warmth and all the passion that he fell so deeply in love with, has been sucked out of her. He hates knowing it’s partially his fault.

“ If that’s okay with you.”

“ sure. “

The movies and the poems and the books and the songs, they never talk about this. The after. The limbo. The “will you keep this or shall I take it?”

They don’t talk about the fact that you’re supposed to pack 5 years of relationship into a bunch of boxes and figure out what to do with it.

He quietly walks into the closet, as if making any noise would break whatever bubble is currently surrounding the two of them. Sometimes he wonders if things would be different had they been different people. Had they been able to express their feelings differently. Sometimes, in the most secret part of his heart, Bucky wishes there would’ve been screaming. Maybe screaming would’ve been helpful. Sure, it’s not the most eloquent way of communication but at least it is communication. But there was no screaming. Only silence. Only feelings swallowed up to never be spoken about. To suffocate them from the inside out.

Making as little noise as possible, Bucky grabs some of his clothes and stuffs them into the duffle bag Sam gave him. He had that look on his face, the pitiful one. The one that says “sorry, man”. There’s no reason to feel sorry for Bucky. This is his fault after all.

There’s a sound coming from behind him, and for a second he really believes it’s his mind playing tricks on him. But then he hears it again, louder this time, more clearly.

She’s laughing. Maybe not a full-on laugh but a chuckle. It’s been a while since he’s heard that sound.

“ What’s got you laughing like that ? “ Bucky asks as he turns back around only to be greeted by her smiling face. God how much he misses that smile.

She looks back down towards the box in front of her and the picture in her hand.

“ It’s uh — it’s a picture of the first time you stayed over. “

His legs carry him towards the bed as if they work on autopilot. As he sits down next to he can just about make out the scent of her shampoo. The one he bought for himself last week, not because he necessarily likes to use it. He bought it because he misses the scent. Because he misses her. And if he can keep her close like this, even for a small moment, he’ll buy an entire store's worth of shampoo.

Her fingers gently grip the picture so as to not rip or crumble it. He can’t hold back the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips as he recognizes the picture. It’s a slightly less gloomy version of him, in love and asleep. Curled up on her old tiny couch in her old tiny apartment with her dog Yoda sleeping soundly on his chest. He was so nervous to stay over at her place the first time he did. Nervous about so many different things but mostly about doing something to hurt her. Physically but also emotionally. To think that now his biggest fear came true, crushes his heart even further.

“ I miss Yoda. He was a good dog,” she says as she puts the photo back into the box. Truth be told, Bucky misses him too. He was grumpy and lazy and he didn’t ever really listen to them. But he was loyal and cuddly and all in all, he was the perfect dog for the two of them. And he had accepted Bucky into his and her life immediately. As if he knew that Bucky of all people needed nothing more than a chance to prove himself to be something other than a killer.

There are more pictures in the box, alongside other clutter that Bucky can’t quite make out. One of the other pictures he can see clearly, is one of the two of them on their first Halloween. The Halloween that Bucky didn’t want to dress up for. The one he promised himself he would spend curled up on his couch watching a scary movie and not open the door to anyone, Trick or Treaters or otherwise.

He ended up going out anyway. With her. FOR her. And it was one of the best nights of his life even if it meant he had to dress up like a skeleton.

“ What is all this? “ he asks though, by the way his heart starts beating faster, Bucky isn’t sure he even wants to know the answer to that question. “ You getting rid of our pictures? “

He doesn’t want it to sound so accusatory. They’re broken up. Separated. In the early process of a divorce. She has every right to get rid of their pictures. Get rid of him. Bury the memories. Just because he can’t let go doesn’t mean that she’s grieving in the same way.

“ No, “ she scoffs and pulls out a small scrap of paper, “ this is a memory box I started when we first got together. It’s things I didn’t know where to put but that I wanted to hold on to. I had planned to give it to you for our 10 year anniversary but … well “

She doesn’t have to say it. He knows.

“ Then after the — seperation I put some other stuff in there. Memories.” 

“ Can I see what else is in there? “ he asks “ since I won’t get to see it on our 10 year anniversary.”

Bucks isn’t quite sure why he adds that to the end of his sentence. It makes him sound spiteful and mean and he can tell, by the look on her face, that it hurts her. And he’s done enough of that in the past. Isn’t that exactly the reason they are here in the first place?

She considers it for a moment and Buck can only guess the different kinds of emotions running through her then. He feels them too. All of them. They are confusing and most of them are negative. She has no reason to let him see this, relish in sweet nostalgia with him as if everything is okay and they’re not getting a fucking divorce.

“ Sure, I guess. I —  yeah.”

She scoots more to the middle of the bed, making more space for Bucky to sit down properly. He’s perched on the side that was his. The side he fell asleep on and woke up on so many times. And she was there next to him. Always there and warm and soft. And she’d smile at him through sleepy eyes and a hazy mind and she’d rival the sun. And then she’d gently comb her fingers through his hair and say good morning and he knew it would be — a good morning.

He hasn’t had a good morning since he left.

She moves the box to sit between them on the bed and motions for Bucky to start digging in.

There’s a pile of what he realizes are old movie tickets. It's something they used to do when they first started dating. Thursdays were movie days. But while everyone went to see the new blockbusters, the two of them would pick the movies that sounded the weirdest and they’d buy a big bucket of popcorn and blue raspberry slushies and just relish in the grandeur that is bad cinema. Most of the time they were the only ones at the cinema. Sometimes things got — R rated.

“ Why did we stop doing this? “ she asks as Bucky looks up from the tickets “ going to the movies I mean. It was always my favorite day of the week. “

He tries to remember. Tries to pinpoint the moment when life changed and their Thursdays weren’t their Thursdays anymore. He can’t. He comes up empty.

Sometimes life changes in little ways, ones you don’t realize at that moment and they don’t seem significant either. It’s a broken tradition. A missed movie night. It’s slow and creeping but at some point, you stop and look at your life now and it doesn’t resemble your life then anymore. Everything has changed and you didn’t even notice. Not for one single second.

“ I have —  I have no idea. “ he has to confess.

“ Remember that movie with the killer florist ? “ she asks and her voice is laced with laughter. Something sparks up in his heart. A tiny flicker of something he’s missed. Something he hasn’t felt in a while. He can’t help but laugh along.

“ I do! Or the one where the woman fell in love with the Koi in her neighbor's pond? ”

“ Oh god! That was terrible. “

“ It was.”

She looks wistful for a moment as if her thoughts wander off to some long-forgotten memory.

“ What are you thinking about? “

He never usually had to ask her. He’d either know or she’d tell him on her own accord. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between them. One he wants to break down or climb over so badly. But does she want him there? After everything?

“ The day we saw that movie was the first time you said I love you. “

It’s true. Now that she mentions it he remembers it so clearly. It’s like he’s suddenly faced with a scene from a movie he’s forgotten about a long time ago but once someone mentions it, he remembers it in great detail. Knows every word. Every line.

“ I still don’t quite know what it was about that moment that made you say it but — “ she trails off, a smile playing on her lips.

Bucky knows. It wasn’t a groundbreaking realization back then. He’d been feeling it for months. Fell deeper in love with her with every glance, every smile, every silly movie he got to watch with her. They went to some dingy diner after the movie to grab a burger and some fries. The leather seats were old and the filling was spilling out, the air smelled of grease and air freshener, and the laminated menu cards were sticky with undefinable stains. All things considered, it should’ve been a bad date. It wasn’t though. Nothing was ever bad with her. She smiled. All she did was smile and hum along to some song Bucky didn’t know as it spilled from the jukebox. And it occurred to him then, that there was no need for a big gesture or a special moment. Every moment with her was special. Life couldn’t get any better than this. Existing was enough if only she was there.

“ Nothing. “

“ Hm? “

“ There was nothing special about that moment. I just realized that I would be okay with anything if only you are there. You — that’s all I need in life. “

She looks at him then and for a second he thinks that maybe she’ll kiss him. Tell him that they are making a mistake and ask him to come back. Tell him that she doesn’t blame him. That she forgives him. That she wants him anyway. Despite — everything. She doesn’t though. Just sighs and pulls another picture from the box.

It’s a picture of the two of them cuddled up on the couch with a tiny white ball of fluff resting on her chest.

“ Our first picture with Alpine. “

“ That was taken on the day we found him. Look, you can clearly see the scratches on my face from crawling around the dumpsters to rescue him. “ Bucky points out.

He had never thought of himself as a cat person. Really he wasn’t so much an anything-person anymore, after Hydra. But somehow that little cat had wormed his way into his heart and refused to leave.

“ Was worth it though! “

Bucky nods his head in agreement “ it was. “

“ You should — you should take him. He’s really more your cat than mine.”

“ He’s our cat.” he points out.

“ Bucky there won’t be an ours anymore. Soon.”

It breaks his heart. Over and over again. He just got used to being himself. The version he was when he was with her. How is he gonna deal with doing it all over again? He doesn’t want to be a version of himself after her.

“ I don’t have a place yet and Sam’s allergic. “

“ He can stay here until then, of course. I love him. “

There’s a lot of love there that’s being given up on, Bucky realizes. And he hates every part of it.

“ Shit, remember this? “ she chimes up again as her hand holds onto a thin receipt, the black ink bleached away and thinned out from years of being stuck in a box. From years of memories fading.

“ Is that from the —”

“ The tattoo place, yeah. “

The patch of skin on the inside of his arm grows hot as if he is suddenly aware of what is there. Something long forgotten. A small letter forever etched into his skin in black ink like the way she’s forever etched into his heart. Always there. Forever. Just like the delicate lines that write his own name onto her collar bone. James. Not Bucky. Not Winter Soldier. James.

“ Oh god, I can’t believe you kept these,” Buck exclaims as he picks a pair of bright blue knitted socks from the box. They’re made from scratchy wool and there are a million and one holes in them. It’s so her. So quintessentially her. To keep them. With their holes and their scratchy wool and all. Even if they’re a mess. Even if they’re broken. She holds onto things no matter how bad. No matter how lost and sad and broken and useless. She holds on tight and doesn’t let go. Unless you make her. Unless you force her to. Unless you break her heart.

“ Umm … you made them for me. Like you literally learned how to knit to make me a pair of socks to keep my feet warm. That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, Buck. Of course, I kept them. “

Bucky bashfully shrugs his shoulders, a tint of red dusting his cheeks. “ I’m glad you liked them. Even if they’re scratchy. “

“ I like you and Alpine and you guys are the scratchiest,” she points out. She’s not wrong.

“ Was I a good boyfriend? “ Bucky asks and while in the grand scheme of things it really doesn’t matter, he wants to know anyway. Wants to know he did something right.

“ You were the best boyfriend. “

“ I’m sorry I was a shit husband. “

She stays quiet for a moment and with every second that passes by he breaks more and more. He wonders how much of him is left at this point. How much there’s still to lose. Then again, what does it matter? He lost her and that’s all that really matters.

“ You weren’t a shit husband, Bucky. “

It’s like the world suddenly moves in slow motion as they both grab the 2 things left in the box.

Bucky holds onto the blue velvet box knowing exactly what’s inside. The last time he held it, got on his knees in front of her, put the ring on her finger, that was one of the best days of his life. A sign that the Winter Soldier was his past and that he could finally truly move on. They were younger, in love. Happy. Now he hardly remembers what happiness feels like.

“ I was so nervous to give this to you. Not because I thought you’d say no or anything. I just — I just wanted to be enough. The ring and the proposal and — me. “

“ You were always enough. “ she says and he can hear the tears in her voice. It’s thick and heavy and he knows that if he looks at her now, there will be tears in her eyes too.

But he doesn’t look at her then. His eyes fall onto the piece of fabric in her hands. It’s so small. Soft peached colored with a little bunny embroidered on the front. It’s tiny and cute and it belongs to no one. It’s tiny and it should’ve been theirs. But it isn’t.

“ No, I wasn’t. He says and shakes his head. You deserve more than I can give you. “

She throws the baby romper back into the box and gets off the bed as if someone has set it on fire.

“ What’s wrong? “ he asks as if he doesn’t know. Everything. Everything about this situation is wrong. They’re supposed to make love on this bed, not cry over memories long gone. Push away thoughts of their looming divorce.

“ I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe you can tell me. “ She calls out to him as she pulls the rest of his shirts from the closet and throws them into the bedroom. Colors of fabric flying through the air like wings of a bird flapping through the winds. Some of them she lops at him, passion and anger and wrath and sadness filling her eyes. “ Maybe you can tell me why the fuck we’re doing this. Why we’re putting ourselves through all this pain and suffering and this bullshit divorce. Maybe you can tell me why you left me to have a fucking breakdown every time I walk into my closet and see this goddamn dress, “ she cries while holding up the hanger over which her beautiful white wedding dress is draped. God, she looked so beautiful that day. Like a goddess. Like an angel. Like his redemption.

“ We were happy. We were trying to have a family. And then what — it doesn’t work and you leave? You just gave up. “

“ I didn’t give up. “

“ Yes, you fucking did! You gave up and you served me divorce papers and you didn’t even give me a fucking choice. “

“ You agreed! “

“ Because I love you and if you don’t want to be with me, then I am not keeping you. I love you enough to let you be happy even if it’s without me.”

Those words send a shock through his heart. Like an icicle. Cold and sharp and unforgiving.

“ You think I don’t love you? You think YOU are the reason?,” Bucky questions before grabbing the romper from the box and holding it up “ this is the reason. This is my fault and mine alone. It’s my fault that this belongs to no one. It’s my fault that there’s an empty room in this apartment that you can’t walk into because it hurts you too much to see it empty. You deserve to be a mother and clearly, I can’t give that to you. That’s the burden I carry but it’s not one that should be put on you. I can’t give you this but you deserve it and you should have it. So this is me letting you go so you can find someone that can give you a baby. Someone who isn’t broken. Someone who doesn't have a body that doesn’t work anymore. Not in the way it should. “

“ James, “ her words a but a whisper as his name tumbles from her lips and she lets her wedding dress fall to the floor to sit next to him and hold his face in between her hands. “ That wasn’t your fault and you are not broken. I want a family, yes. I want a child. But with you. I want a family with you and it doesn’t matter if it’s my blood or not. It’s our family whichever way we decide to do this. And if we — if we stay just us and Alpine that’s fine too. I just want you and whatever else we decide on. Together. I love you, James. I love you and I miss you and I don’t want a baby if it’s not with you. A family means nothing if it doesn’t include you. Whatever the consequences of the serum are, they are not your fault. You are not broken, James. You are you. You’re a hero. A husband. And maybe one day a father but above all, you are James Buchanan Barnes, a survivor and you are not broken.  “

He knows he should be saying so many things right then but all his thoughts get tangled up and won't find the way to his lips.

Instead, he says the only other thing he can think about right then.

“ You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress. “

She laughs through the flood of tears that leak from her eyes and trail down her face.

“ I mean you always look beautiful but that day. My god. I honestly couldn’t believe you said yes to me — of all people. 106 year old me. Wouldn’t believe it until the moment you walked down the aisle. Then I knew that this was really the start of my new life. Of my forever. “

“ I miss you Bucky. “

“ I miss you too. “

“ I don’t want to divorce you. I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband.”

“ Even without the babies? “

“ Yes, “ she nods and brushes her fingers through his short hair. “ You are my family James and you are enough for me. Always”

“ I love you. “ he says because really, it’s the only thing he can think of. The thing he wants most. The only thing that matters.

Without another word, he pulls the ring from the box and delicately slips it back onto her finger. Where it belongs. Where it always belonged.

“ I’m sorry I was ever this stupid. I should’ve just talked to you “

“ Yeah you should have but right now can you — can you just kiss me? “

She doesn’t need to ask him twice. He kisses her once, then twice, then once again. It’s been a long long time since the last time he’s kissed her. Too long. Way too long.

He’s not gonna stop anytime soon. Never again. Never ever again.

“ Hey, “ he says “ how about you slip into your wedding dress I think for all my stupid decisions I owe you a dance. “

“ I think you might be right. “

And she’s smiling, so bright and radiant. Like the sun. Like all the stars. Like his own personal light in the darkness.

“ Don’t expect too much though. I just cried, my hair is a mess — I won’t look the way you remember me looking in this dress. “

“ You’ll look gorgeous.”

And he’s right. She looks breathtaking. She looks like a wonderful, wonderful dream. Like love captured in a person. Like a second chance. Like his home.

There are a lot of thoughts racing through Bucky’s mind as he pulls her close and they sway to the melodic tunes of their wedding song as it sounds from the speakers of her cellphone. But above all there’s love. And the knowledge that he is enough. That they are enough. Their tiny little family. Perfect and not broken or missing anything. It’s good as it is.

They don’t have to think about who gets to keep the decorative throw pillows, the records they used to collect together, the plates that were a wedding gift, the cat. Because it’s theirs. Together. Shared.

And forever.

#bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x female!reader

[restapesta]

Piercings. 5+1 ficlet, but with piercings. I have a problem.

1.

Ian thought he knew pretty much everything about his husband. He knew him, inside and fucking out.

How could he not? Ian's pretty much been with him for a better part of his life, and they've had enough late-night talks to share all their demons with each other, however hard it may have been. They knew each other.

There was no doubt about it.

But, well. Ian should have known Mickey kept secrets.

He also should've known that one of those secrets was bound to put him in the grave one day with the inscription on his tombstone saying that he died from horniness.

Because one of these days, he would. There was no doubt about it.

It wasn't the most conventional way to go, but Ian didn't mind it.

Because, holy fuck, Mickey just admitted he used to have his ears pierced.

"Sorry," Ian balked at his husband who was standing in the bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror, a pair of black studs in his right hand. "Did you just say you had your ears pierced?"

"I probably still do." Mickey grabs an earring and places it against the healed-up hole that is so faint, Ian needed to come impossibly closer to see it. Mickey had pointed it out to him after he initially said he was getting his ears pierced again. Right after Ian was left with his mouth wide open, staring widely at him, not trusting he heard him right. "And if not, I'm just gonna reopen them."

How did Ian never notice it? How did he never see Mickey, the love of his life, with earrings in his ears? With little patched-up spots of skin that were so plainly visible to the eye, now that he really looked at it.

Mickey grimaced as he pressed the needle against the hole, pushing and prodding against the uncooperative entrance. He eyed Ian in the mirror, eyes narrowing. "What are you staring at?"

Ian was stunned speechless. Of course he was. Of fucking course Mickey was about to bust out some crazy thing two years into their marriage that would make Ian finally break. Like having his ears pierced, making every single yet-undiscovered fantasy come to life.

He couldn't help but imagine Mickey with a nose ring, now. Tongue piercing. Eyebrow piercing.

Nipples.

Holy fuck.

Blood was rushing straight to his dick, and goddamn it, this was it. Ian was about to die.

Because holy fuck, the earring went through.

So did the other one.

And now, Ian was staring at Mickey, who was sporting black studs in his ears. Two dark diamonds that were obviously fake but could've not been, because this wasn't Mickey anymore. This wasn't the Mickey who rolled his eyes at anything gay—except getting pounded, obviously.

No—this was Mickey with earrings.

Ian's mouth was dry. It was dry as Mickey turned away from the mirror to face him. He stood in front of him, a determined look on his face as if waiting for Ian to call him out. Him, in all his fucking glory.

"Did you, uh," Ian finally stammered out. "sterilize the needles? I don't want you to get an infection."

"That really all you gotta say?"

Ian swallowed. "How come I never saw you with," He pointed at Mickey's ears, unable to even say the word. "those?"

"I was really young. I got 'em pierced when Mandy did. Took them out fairly soon, 'cus, you know." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Ian knew.

He gripped Mickey by the shoulders pulling him closer. His eyes were on Ian's, but Ian's were on the earrings, and Ian never really knew he had a kink for jewelry.

Well, there was the wedding ring, but fuck, this had nothing to do with their relationship, and yet Ian was still sporting a raging hard-on Mickey had yet to notice.

"I love them." He said truthfully, mentally noting to get Mickey real studs once he got the chance. Not the cheap grocery-store ones, but actual diamonds that he wouldn't mind spending money on. Not when they would look so good on his husband.

Mickey blushed, pushing Ian away immediately, not getting away far, arms practically out so Ian could pull him back in. And he did, squeezing him tightly against his chest, careful not to place too much pressure on the newly-reopened piercings.

Mickey mumbled something against Ian's shirt, incoherent.

"What? I didn't hear you"

"I love you."

Ian smiled. Pulled Mickey away so he could stare into his eyes.

"You know you gotta let me fuck you with those on. Pretty sure it will be the best orgasm of my life."

Mickey only smirked, eyes lighting up immediately at the suggestion. He looks fucking amazing, Ian thought.

"Lead the way, hotshot."

Ian was right. With the earrings and the smugness—

It took him less than a minute.

2.

When Ian saw the photo, he was pretty sure he was going to die.

No, not pretty sure. One-hundred percent sure. Death was awaiting him now, ready to pull him in. He was already feeling faint, ready to just slip away into unconsciousness. He was going to die, for sure.

Or maybe it was just the loss of all the blood that was heading way down south that was making him feel this way, because holy shit.

Holy shit.

When Mickey took the earrings out after a few days of usage, claiming how they sucked, Ian thought that was it. Mickey was never going to do anything that reminded him of being gay ever again. He had probably been embarrassed and wanted to take them out, and Ian was feeling at such loss when he saw his ears vacant that he was ready to throw hands.

But, oh God.

Ian was now staring at a picture of Mickey—a picture he posted on goddamn Instagram for everybody to see—and it was him.

Him with a fucking nose piercing.

Ian checked the comments first. It would've probably been saner to call his husband and ask if he actually got a nose piercing and if he was ready to be a widow because Ian won't be lasting much longer, but there were a bunch of comments on the photo, and fuck if Ian wasn't going to leaf through them all. This could be a joke for all he knew.

Some sick joke to get Ian's hopes up, just to get them crushed down until he never had any hopes in life ever again.

Mickey with a nose piercing. Mickey with a nose piercing.

Carl said it looked 'fuckin' sick'. Lip was putting 😲 emojis all throughout the chat, sometimes even adding the 😏 one, probably a reference to Ian (at least Ian hoped it was). The other comments were just about how good Mickey look, which was really no surprise, but holy shit, did that mean this was real?

Mickey was out running some errand. Said he had some shit he needed to. That sneaky bastard. Ian didn't care if he was in the middle of the goddamn line at the Costco aisle or in the middle of a drug run.

He facetimed him.

When Mickey's face came into view, the nose ring present and very much real, Ian was lost for words. Mickey was biting his lip to keep from smiling and once he noticed Ian was just going to continue and stare, he scoffed.

"Man, it's just a piercing."

"No," Ian said. "This is much more than 'just a piercing'."

Mickey chuckled. "Well, I figured since I didn't really like the earrings, I could do this. It felt right."

This was the Mickey Ian knew and loved. The Mickey who wanted to try new things, get to know his own style. Mickey, who was finally confident enough in himself, and hopefully comfortable in their marriage, that he didn't even consider this a big deal. Ian was filled to the brim with emotions, and he was ready to explode.

"You need to come home now."

They met each other's eyes through the screen, blue glimmering in mischief. Mickey smiled. "Why?"

"Because."

"This piercing shit really gets you going, huh, Gallagher?"

It did.

It really did.

"If you're not home in ten minutes, I'll get the whip. So better be fucking home." With that he hung up, getting up to ready the supplies.

Mickey was home in eleven.

Ian knew it was fucking intentional.

3.

Ian might've been getting used to the fucking hotness that Mickey Milkovich with a nostril piercing was, but that didn't mean others were.

In the end, it probably didn't even matter that Ian was one million percent down for any types of piercings Mickey wants to get—he might have even been pushing him for a nipple piercing, but the why of it was for another time—what would eventually decide whether or not the earring stayed in was the reactions of somebody other than Ian.

It was unfair, really, that others would be able to affect Mickey's decision to finally do whatever the fuck he wanted to do, despite his ever-growing confidence. Still, Ian had a way of making sure that nobody made him feel shitty for doing something he wanted to do. Something for himself, without fearing the judgment of others like he had his entire life.

He was an arsonist, for fuck's sake. Let them try and eye his husband the wrong way.

Ian perhaps expected it from old, batty women at the grocery store who didn't have a clue what century they were in or Karens who were homophobic pieces of shit—but he never would be guessed it would be his own family poking fun at something that probably took guts to do. Because it took guts to actually get something like a nose piercing if you were a Milkovich with a past of growing up in a homophobic household.

"So, uh, you gone full gay now, Mickey?"

"Watch out, Ian, I think he might out-twink you."

"You look like Sandy now. Don't be surprised if I jump you."

"I think you look cool, Mickey."

"Uncle Mickey, what's that in your nose? Can I have one?"

Mickey didn't seem to really care about the Gallaghers' opinions. It was mostly just him flipping Lip off at the twink comment and winking at Franny for that last one. Ian, on the other hand.

Ian was the one who was getting fucking offended.

What if Mickey decided that all the teasing and sideways glances aren't worth it and he takes the nose ring out? What if Ian's deprived of sexy, liberated Mickey because of assholes like his own siblings?

It didn't matter how selfish it sounded. There was no way in hell Mickey was ever going to feel conflicted over something he didn't need to feel conflicted about.

So, the second Mickey was out of the room, and the Gallaghers were still unrelenting at the teasing, Ian knew what he had to do.

"Okay, that's enough," He said simply after the eight-hundredth joke about how the ring looked like a booger in his nose—what the actual fuck, Lip?—his voice stern.

"Come on," Lip said, despite the others clearly relenting, palms going up with sheepish expressions on their faces. "We're just joking."

"Well, enough jokes. You could be more like Liam. Tell him he looks good."

Lip snorted. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I asked you to?"

"He knows it's all jokes. He doesn't even care."

"I do." Ian narrowed his eyes. "I care whether or not he feels like he's done the wrong thing because you won't shut the fuck up after the joke's not even funny anymore."

That was what made the smile on Lip's face thin. He lowered his head sightly, as of bowing it down in shame. Ian knew he had finally caught on. Finally understood that, sometimes, even jokes could hurt people's fucking feelings.

Maybe Mickey wasn't at all touched by this. Maybe he really didn't give a shit about what Lip or some old-ass grandma at the store thought. Maybe it was only Ian who gave a shit.

But fuck it, he could give enough shit for the both of them.

If it meant Mickey would always feel comfortable in his own skin, then fuck yes he could.

"Okay," Lip said simply, and Ian smiled at him, thankful.

And when Mickey reappeared with a slight frown on his face and a, "what, no more jokes?" followed by a wide smile, Ian knew he had done the right thing.

Because Mickey looked good.

And the ring stayed on.

4.

"What is it with you and the goddamn nipple rings?"

Ian bit at his lip. Okay, he may have gone a little overboard. With all the research and the reference photos and all the places you could get one... But fuck, he had a fantasy, and he needed to see it come true.

Mickey with nipple rings.

Mickey with nipple rings.

Come the fuck on.

"Babe, listen," Ian started, moving so he was positioned against the headboard of their bed. It was almost midnight—what better time to lay it down on Mickey that he would look really fucking good with piercings in his nipples and that it would be Ian's dream come true. "They'd look so good."

"Then why don't you get them?"

Ian made an incredulous face. "Because they wouldn't look good on me. They would look good on you."

Mickey swiped at his nose, diverting Ian's attention once more to the perfection that was his black nose ring. How could Ian not see all the possibilities with multiple piercings when Mickey looked like that with just one?

"Come on," He said again, the image in his head even more vivid than before. "I googled it. It doesn't even hurt that much."

"I have a feeling like that is a very obvious lie."

Ian rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe it was.

He pushed himself back down onto the comforter, shifting so he could have access to Mickey's chest. He trailed a finger from his neck, then slowly down so it rest in between his nipples, laying out his palm so it could feel the beating of Mickey's heart.

"Imagine the sex," He whispered, trying out a new technique. Seduction. It had to work.

"Probably not until it's healed up and stops hurting," Mickey scoffed. "Also, I really don't think I'd like it. I'd look like a bull."

"You'd look like a very sexy bull. Oh, by the way, septum piercing." Ian wiggled his eyebrows. "Don't you see it? Don't you think it'd look awesome?"

Mickey looked like he was on the verge of either laughing or punching Ian straight in the dick. "I think," He began. "that I've created a monster."

"A monster who is extremely horny for your ass."

"Why do you have to have a kink for this? Ian, out of all the things. Just look up porn with a bunch of jewelry on the guys if you need to get off."

Ian frowned at the imagery. "It's not the jewelry, Mick. I've had hookups who wore a shit-ton of jewelry and it never made me all hot and bothered."

Mickey smiled at the hot and bothered part. "Dork. Then what is it?"

"Well, fucking obviously it's you."

Mickey's face lit up. "It's me?"

"Ugh, Mickey, we've been together for a while. Don't make me feel shy over this."

The exasperation made Ian's cheeks pink. Suddenly, Mickey was leaning in and pressing his lips to the heat, smiling all the way through it.

When he pulled away, there was a wide grin stretched across his face. Ian was a sucker for that grin. That grin was everything he needed in life. Nothing more.

"I won't get a nipple piercing."

Sadness. All Ian felt was sadness.

"But maybe we can check out other options." It was Mickey's turn to wiggle his eyebrows. "Tongue piercing float your boat too?"

Happiness. All Ian felt was happiness.

5.

Eyebrow piercing. It ended up being an eyebrow piercing.

And God. Ian was done. He was completely done with everything. This was it. This was all he ever needed to see in life. Now, he could die peacefully.

He was married to the hottest man alive. Ian could pride himself in that fact. Mickey truly was the hottest person Ian had ever laid eyes on.

Especially now that he had a nose and eyebrow piercing at the same fucking time.

Ian knew there would never be another man to get his attention again. Never anybody else to make Ian feel like he need to avert his gaze. Not when all eyes went to the Mickey with the hot body, amazing ass, great face, and perfect piercings.

"Maybe you should get some piercings, too," Mickey said as they sat together at the table, munching on cereal. "I mean, if you act this way over my shit, who knows how I'll act over yours."

Ian smiled. "I can't pull anything off like you can."

"Bullshit. You're hot as fuck."

Ian's cheeks pinked. "Shut up."

"No seriously," Mickey said as he got up to get more coffee. "Hottest guy I know."

Ian licked his lips, slowly running his eyes down his husband's body. "Well then, guess we both got lucky."

Mickey smiled and the piercings come into view again.

Ian really was a complete goner.

+ 1

"No," Mickey said once he saw Ian come into view. "No. No. No."

Ian grinned widely, tilting his chin slightly so he could showcase the tiny diamond—actual diamond—studs in his ears. "You like it?"

Mickey knew then that this was what heaven felt like.

He barely stopped himself from tackling Ian onto the floor.

Oh, who the fuck is he kidding.

He didn't stop shit.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless us #fanfic #PIERCINGS #piercings #5+1 things #:))))))))) #i said i had more #i wasn't lying #*ficlet

[kiyosamu]

HQ boys when they have too much to drink

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

———♡———

Atsumu Miya

• take his typical personality and turn up the volume to 100. this man is LOUD. his laugh obnoxiously booms around the entire place, he’s straight up yelling as he talks (he doesn’t realize it though), and he’s such a flirt.

• there is a tipping point though, that one drink that pushes him over the edge of no return. he goes from happy, loud tsumu to an absolute baby. this massive hunk of a professional athlete will cry, and he’ll cry hard.

———♡———

osamu offered to treat the msby boys to a dinner and drinks after another excellent win, of course they accepted with pure gratitude and excitement (they all loved osamu’s food).

although it was at his house and not his restaurant, the food was just as good; if not better. you all thanked him for the meal and sat around his large table chatting and drinking.

“cheers, boys!” atsumu exclaimed, leaning over the table to clink glasses with everyone, downing his beer immediately after.

“not just boys here, ‘tsumu, you forget about y/n already?” osamu smirked.

atsumu gasped, leaning down and squeezing you around your shoulders. you laughed as he practically pushed all of the air out of your lungs.

“forget her?! i was going to do a toast for ONLY her. just had to get ya scrubs outta the way first” he teased, sticking out his tongue at the group.

you smiled, shaking your head. “it’s fine, atsumu, there’s no need for tha-”

surprisingly, you were interrupted by osamu.

“cheers to y/n, for makin’ my brother happier than i’ve ever seen ‘em.” he looked down at you, smiling. “never thought he’d find anyone, ‘specially a stunner like yourself~ happy to have you in our family and to have you as a future sister in law.”

you almost teared up at his words, not expecting osamu to say something so sweet. you were about to speak again but were interrupted by the rest of the boys, standing up and clinking their glasses again.

“cheers to y/n!”

they all knocked their drinks back and you covered your face in your hands. you really were thankful for these boys, they’d come into your life and you never wanted them out of it.

“alright stop flirtin’ with my woman” atsumu grinned, pulling you up to your feet. he pulled with enough force that you practically crashed against his chest. your forearms rested against him and you looked up at the blonde towering over you.

“heh” he smirked, “fancy meetin’ ya here, pretty girl”

you rolled your eyes, pushing off of him, and excused yourself to the bathroom.

when you got back, you heard osamu cursing in the kitchen. you peeked in to see what was wrong.

“you okay, samu?”

“huh?” he peered up over the refrigerator door, “oh, yeah, i’m good. thought we had more beer but i forgot it at the restaurant. these boys knock ‘em back quick.”

“want me to go pick some up?”

“ah, would ya?

“sure” you smiled, heading into the living room where the other boys were.

atsumu pulled you into his lap, immediately giving you a big wet kiss on your cheek.

“ah, atsumu, ew!” you giggled as you wiped your face. he hummed in complete bliss as he buried his face in your hair. you could feel how warm he was, and could tell he was already pretty drunk.

“i’m gonna go to the store quick, you guys want anything other than beer?”

bokuto’s eyes widened at the possibilities. he turned towards the kitchen, and back to you.

“y/n... psst...” he whispered and motioned for you to get closer. you went over to him, kneeling down as he was sitting on the floor.

“can you get me a cheeseburger?” he flashed a classic bokuto smile and you playfully nudged him.

“hey! i heard that!” osamu said as he charged into the living room. “there’s leftovers still, you insatiable beast, eat those. don’t ya dare insult me like that.”

he threw a pillow at bokuto and went back into the kitchen, coming out again with a mixed drink in his hand.

“whatcha drinkin?” atsumu asked, looking at his brother.

“doesn’t concern ya, the last thing you need is hard alcohol.” he motioned for you to catch something, tossing you his wallet. “thanks for going, y/n!”

you told the boys you’d be back quickly, but that turned into almost an hour. the first store you went to was closed, and the second was 20 minutes away.

as you were paying, you looked down at the wallet and card osamu had given you.

it was atsumu’s credit card, not osamu’s. you couldn’t help but laugh. not like atsumu would mind (or even notice), but it was the little things the twins do that always cracked you up.

you were having a great night. however, the house you left earlier and just came back to were severely different in a few ways.

the first thing you noticed was the music you could hear from outside. not unlike them to put some on while hanging out, but it was pretty loud.

the second thing you noticed was hinata running full speed in front of you (practically knocking you over) and slamming the bathroom door.

the third was the loud slam of glasses on the kitchen counter. you peeked in to see atsumu, bokuto, and sakusa all standing over a half drank bottle of tequila.

“poor shoyo” atsumu cooed. “prolly gettin’ sick all over samu’s bathroom.”

“not like he didn’t warn you,” sakusa said casually. “you two practically forced him to.”

you sighed, setting the beer on the table and the boys turned their attention to you.

“my baby!” atsumu sprinted towards you, throwing you into his arms and squeezing you. you tapped on his shoulder for him to let you down. he gave you a kiss, the smell and taste of alcohol much stronger than a beer overtaking your lips.

“you smell like a bar, ‘tsumu, how much have you had to drink?”

“only a couple beers, and one shot, don’t worry babe~” he said between the many kisses he was covering your cheeks with. you didn’t believe him considering he was already slurring his words.

“bullshit, ya filthy liar” osamu glared at him as he walked into the kitchen. “i had one drink from that bottle and now it’s halfway gone, i leave for 20 minutes to make a phone call and you savages drink my liquor too?”

bokuto and sakusa silently left the kitchen, grabbing the beer on the table before heading into the other room.

“why, do ya gotta lie, ‘saaamu?” atsumu put you down, walking over to his brother and scrunching his nose at him.

“oh, yer done. i’d know that stupid look anywhere.” osamu peered around atsumu’s shoulders to look at you. “he’s wasted, y/n, if ya wanna keep your sanity you can just leave him here for the night.”

you shook your head. “it’s okay, osamu, i don’t mind. plus everyone’s still here. we can still hang out.”

osamu shrugged. “don’t say i didn’t warn ya, but the offer still stands.”

atsumu glared at his brother, shoving him a little harder than playfully.

“stop flirtin’ with my woman”

“ah fucks sake.” osamu rolled his eyes, giving atsumu the middle finger. “don’t ya dare get like this tonight, atsumu. yer gonna embarrass yourself in front of your girlfriend AND friends.”

you quickly grabbed atsumu’s hand, leading him back over to you to distract him. osamu scoffed and went back into the living room.

“surprise surprise, osamu ran away again” he growled. “like usual.”

you touched his cheek, looking at him thoughtfully.

“what’s wrong, baby? you okay?”

the unprovoked anger he had in his eyes vanished, he turned into complete mush when he looked at you. he nodded, his eyes watering now.

“oh, ‘tsumu...” you said quietly, leading him into osamu’s spare bedroom and shutting the door.

you guided him to the edge of the bed for him to sit down.

atsumu reached out for you and you sat on his lap. he rested his forehead on your shoulder.

you were sitting on him sideways and leaned into his chest. he wrapped his arms around your waist. as you were about to say something, you could hear his breaths become uneven.

“tsumu?”

atsumu shook his head, not looking up at you.

“hey...” you said softly, cupping his cheeks in your hands. you could feel the tears on his warm skin.

you tilted his head up. his eyes were red and it broke your heart seeing him upset like this, fueled by alcohol or not.

you pushed his messy hair out of his face, kissing his forehead. “what is it, baby?”

“it’s just, ugh-” he sniffled, “samu... pisses me off...”

“he’s just looking out for you, babe.”

“nah not that. just always leavin’ me, walkin’ away, past few years that’s all he’s good for.” he rubbed his eyes, leaning back into your shoulder.

“s’pathetic, i know, me sitting here cryin’ on ya like a total scrub”

you shook your head, ignoring the last part. “it’s not pathetic. you miss him?”

“i- ‘course i do! i mean, i’d never tell ‘em that...” he grumbled.

you nodded. “well let’s make more of an effort to spend time with him. i’m sure he’d really like that.”

your mind drifted to a previous conversation you’d had with osamu that he made you promise not to tell his twin. he’d pretty much said the same thing, but a little less emotional.

the boys did still see each other often, you were pretty sure they talked almost every day, but they went from spending almost every waking moment together to only seeing each other once a week, at most, at this point. they were both just so busy.

atsumu was always vocal about how he wished osamu had pursued volleyball with him, but he was still happy his brother found his own passion. he just wished that passion was the same as his.

when you first met their mom, she’d told you about how their bond was different from regular siblings- twins were a bit more attached to each other. she laughed, saying sometimes she was convinced they shared a brain. “they’re a package deal.”

“okay...” atsumu said, his face still in your shoulder. “ya can’t tell him i was cryin’ though. just say hanging out is your idea.”

you laughed, running your fingers back through his hair and stopping to give soothing scratches to the short hair of his undercut. “sure, baby.”

atsumu squeezed you tight and gave your butt a little pat, which told you he was ready to get up.

“you okay now? ready to go back out there?”

he nodded. you took a good look at him, his eyes a little puffy and cheeks flushed, but it wasn’t as obvious, he could easily blame the alcohol.

he tilted your head up towards him, giving you a kiss. his hand pressed against the back of your neck, the other snaking around your lower back. you stood on your tiptoes and rested your hands along his jawline.

“mmf-“ atsumu exhaled, tightening his grip on you and kissing you more. “on second thought” he said in between kisses, “think i wanna go home with ya, spend some quality time with my baby, yeah?”

you giggled as he trailed kisses along your cheek and down your neck, unable to hide your excitement. it was funny to think how this massive flirt was just crying into you only a couple minutes ago.

the award for biggest mood swings would definitely go to your boyfriend.

“hmmmm?” he hummed into you, his lips finding yours again.

you nodded. “fine, but only because you’re so handsome and i just can’t resist you.” you teased.

he smirked. “not sure if yer teasin’ or being serious, but i’ll take it. c’mon.” he grabbed your hand, both of you heading into the living room to say your quick goodbyes before heading home together

#atsumu is a big baby and has lots of insecurities and i just want to hug #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #haikyu x reader #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu hcs #atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #atsumu angst #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu drabbles #miya twins

[rosepetalmark]

it was good until it wasn’t

↬ pairing: kim doyoung x reader ↬word count: 3k ↬ genre: angst, mentions of fluff ↬warnings: mentions of sex, it’s pretty sad (you may shed a tear or two i’m v sorry) ↬ synopsis: breakups suck, especially when you’re still in-love and don’t understand where you both went wrong. 

he makes it look so easy.

ignoring your texts, coming home late, barely saying a word to you when you’re together. you can’t hate him for it though, you’re the exact same.

you wonder why he doesn’t break up with you already. your relationship was basically hopeless at this point and you both know it isn’t going anywhere- it hasn’t been going anywhere for months now.

it pains you seeing him not stare at you lovingly anymore. you grew so fond of the idea of  spending hours on the phone talking about the dumbest things, staying up late watching reruns of your favourite shows, even making him do face masks with you when you wanted to do self care days. you knew he loved it of course, but he always played it off as something he detested because seeing you pout over his lack of interest in a sheet mask always made him love you ten times more.

you haven’t felt his touch in two months. it was like you were living with a ghost, the feeling of his presence ever so prominent, but the actual feeling and embracement of him completely diminished. every morning he’d wake you up by kissing both your cheeks, quiet laughter humming from his chest as he admired your sleepy presence in his quest to get you to start your day.

now you wake up to the sound of him sighing as he leaves your shared bed, his empty presence filling the quiet room, causing you to feel lonely.

never in the several years of knowing doyoung did you ever imagine that his presence would become something that no longer brought you happiness.

you’ve both drifted, but you’re still together- too stubborn to admit to yourselves and each other that this relationship has run its course, forming a cohabitation with one another rather than maintaining a loving, healthy relationship.

it’s complicated, you like to believe. trying to puzzle together when everything went wrong. but you can’t because all you remember is that one day you were both madly in love with one another and the next you acted as if you were strangers.

deep down you’re scared. you’ve spent so many years and time and effort in your relationship with doyoung that you don’t truly know what life outside of him is like.

you may not have long talks anymore or stay up late watching movies or even have sex- damn you missed the days where you both would divulge in sex multiple times a week, but gosh did you find solace in his presence.

when he’s not there in bed beside you when you wake up each morning you feel empty, like a piece of your heart has been ripped out of your body and hidden halfway across the world for you to find.

he’s all you’ve touched and laughed and connected with in years and to have that ripped away from you is beyond frightening.

he’s all you know.

you yearn for the days when you were fresh in love and could never keep your hands off each other, wanting to be in each other’s presence 24/7.  sadly the days of two twenty years olds having quickies in the backseat of a car and drunkenly singing karaoke at three in the morning on friday nights at the local bar were long gone. you’re not two college kids in love anymore, just two completely different adults who fell out of it.  

it hurts reminiscing about the way his hands would find your waist and how his chin dipped into your neck when he found you speaking with your friends at parties; the way he would sing to you when you had trouble falling asleep,  bringing you to his piano to play you whatever melody he created earlier in the day just to bring you comfort, even if it meant he was losing sleep in the process.

you especially miss his attempts at making you iced coffee in the morning. it was such a mundane act, but no matter how hard he tried and how closely he followed the instructions you gave him (not as if making iced coffee was hard anyways), he’d always make it too bitter. but you still drank it anyway, because you loved doyoung with every fibre in your being, and anything he did for you made you appreciate and fall in love with him even more. everything he did for you showed how deeply he loved and cared for you.

now you don’t get any of it. no obnoxious flirting when out in public. no beautiful nights falling asleep to his soft, angelic voice, wrapped up warmly in his tender arms. and especially no bitter, watered down iced coffee.

you’re lucky enough if he holds your hand when out in public with friends, not wanting anyone to clue in on the lack of intimacy and love that ceases to exist between the two of you.

you used to be that annoying couple who couldn’t get enough of one another, always finding ways to be in each other’s presence whenever you went out together, wanting to show the world that you were his and he was yours. now you can barely look each other in the eyes for more than five minutes without an unnecessary argument beginning to brew.

you wish you could have that all back. the routine. the peace. the love you both shared. you’re just two adults who can’t even be mature enough to break off a six year relationship because you’re both too comfortable with the thought of one another; too scared to leave what you’ve built as a couple to realize that this once great love affair has turned into something so sad and toxic, pulling you back from what you both deserve in life.

your friends have been telling you to sit down and speak to him about your feelings, his urging you both to call it quits for months now, claiming you’re making your friendship dynamic awkward, and in the end only harming yourselves. but they don’t understand what it’s like to have something so beautiful ripped from your hands without a warning, because that’s what this all felt like. as if someone swooped in and stole your bond with doyoung, when in actuality it was just the two of you growing apart-one thing you never thought would ever occur.

those four dry months eventually turned into a fifth, and that’s when you knew you had to pull the plug. you couldn’t keep living like this- wasting your life and heart and energy on a relationship that ended so long ago. it was draining the life out of you both and it was painfully evident in your faces.

the days of crying over him have long passed, making it much easier to process that you won’t ever be with him again, mentally checking out after the first two months this distance became a regular occurrence. that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt ending a love that once was your everything.

you remember so clearly the day doyoung asked you out. it was a monday after a lecture you both shared, the both of you walking alongside campus, too invested in your conversations with one another to say goodbye. you both knew you had feelings for one another, every interaction between the two of you held an abundance of smiles and rosy red cheeks.

he bit the bullet and asked if you wanted to grab dinner some time, just the two of you and away from your chaotic friend group, wanting it to be an actual date and not a group outing.

that was six years ago, and the butterflies you felt in your stomach the moment he said he wanted to date you still linger when you think back to such heartfelt innocence.

when you finally decided enough was enough and the words eventually left your mouth, he wasn’t even upset. he showed no sign of emotion, a stoic expression stuck on his tender face, only a nod of agreement following your difficult confession.

he knew he didn’t have to say anything and you didn’t expect him to. there was no fighting for something that didn’t exist anymore. doyoung may have been your boyfriend by title, but these last few months he was just doyoung. not your lover. not your best friend. just doyoung.

a stranger you know who’s smile and laugh and kisses you’ll forever have ingrained in your brain, but have not come into pure contact with for an unreasonable amount of time.

and you can’t even hate him for this breakup because he hasn’t done anything wrong. you simply grew apart, and you hate how you drug it out for so long where it got to the point where you can’t even look him into the eyes without feeling some sort of pain and resentment. the only thing you wish you could go back and change was to talk about it, because who knows, the both of you could have either resolved whatever underlying issues you had, or you would’ve been broken up by now- not stranded and confused as to where your life and relationship is going.

you never pictured you’d end up like this, assuming by the time you were in your late twenties you’d be engaged, with a dog, constantly looking at homes online for you and doyoung to one day grow your future family in. you so desperately wanted to be his forever, the one he turned to for everything. the father of your children, the greatest love of your life the entire world had to offer.

that was all in the past now.

the entire “official” breakup didn’t even hit you until doyoung was moving his stuff out of your shared apartment, little pieces of him vanishing as each minute passed.                                    

the picture of your two year anniversary is no longer on display in the living room, the frame facing the table to signal that the once happy couple in that old photograph are no longer together and madly in love.

the pastel flower magnets doyoung loved to collect and place on the fridge ceased to exist, leaving your kitchen slightly less colourful and fun as they were tossed away in one of the many random boxes he got from the hardware store earlier.

even the ugly rustic coffee table you hated but he adored- something that totally clashed with the aesthetic of the apartment but reminded doyoung of his childhood, all removed from your shared space and never to be seen in your presence again. you begged doyoung for a new one years ago but he always managed to convince you it had charm, always flashing you a wide grin in his process to win your heart over. you never thought the day would come where you’d miss seeing it in your living room.

everything was so clean and spacious. everything was gone.

it was weird seeing your once cluttered home look so different. yet despite all the space, every single memory and experience you shared with doyoung was ever present in your mind, overwhelming you all at once as no future memories between the two of you will be made.

it felt like just yesterday you both signed the lease, accidentally spilling red wine on the brand new white rug doyoung bought an hour after you got the keys, knowing you were eyeing it for months online, refusing to buy it until you officially had a place together.  you were both so excited to start your lives here. to be young and to evolve and to explore your relationship in a manner more romantic and mature than you had the last few years.

all his instruments and songbooks that were once scattered in the corner of your living room are gone, packed in their cases and in doyoung’s car, awaiting their new home once he takes his remaining items and leaves.

it hurts the most when thinking about the bedroom. you haven’t slept there since he started packing his things four days ago, not wanting to get emotional over half the room and its belongings disappearing with what felt like a snap of the fingers.

but you had to make your way in there now, because all you could hear coming from the thin white wall down the hallway were soft, hiccupped sobs- such emotion you weren’t familiar with in months.

part of you wants to let him be and pretend like you hear nothing just so he can gather his thoughts and belongings and be on his way.

but you can’t. because despite how much you tell yourself that this is for the best and you’re past everything, you’re not. there’s a huge part of you that still cares so deeply for doyoung and you wouldn’t ever wish pain on him.

quietly walking into your bedroom towards your once shared bed, you sit beside him. grabbing his hand, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, reminding you of the days you’d go on long walks, him never letting go of you because he never wanted to break physical contact.

“hi.” you whisper, not entirely sure how to spark a conversation with him. you haven’t been this vulnerable with him in what feels like forever, the last time you saw him cry was over two years ago when your relationship was seemingly at its best. he hasn’t been this upset was when he thought he lost taeyong’s dog, but it turned out that it was yuta’s day to watch him while he went to work.

“hey.” he says, his voice raspy and shaky due to the tears, his face red with anxiety.

“so we’re really doing this, huh?” you ask, your voice beginning to shake as well. seeing doyoung cry always breaks your heart, and the fact that he’s doing so after you both ended things makes you want to crawl in a hole and never leave.

this was hitting you too hard. so much harder than you could’ve ever imagined. you thought that because you both just fell apart and seemed unbothered by such a drastic change in your lives and relationship that he’d pack his things and you’d both be on with your lives. but now that you’re both separating from one another for good when all you’ve known was each other for years, it’s soul crushing.

doyoung is here in your once shared bedroom holding your hand and crying with you because you both failed to make your relationship work despite having such strong feelings for one another.

you love this man so much, yet you know there’s nothing you can do to bring you both back to the state you were once in. you’re different people now, and you can’t mold back into the two young, horny, and madly in love college sophomores anymore thinking you’re going to be together forever.

“god i hate this!” he yells in between sobs, his face getting more and more red as the tears stream down his face. and you hate this too, because you didn’t think this whole process would cause each of you to bawl your eyes out because you don’t want to leave a love and comfort you’ve both outgrown.

you wiped his tears with your fingers, caressing his cheeks to reassure him that none of this is his fault. you needed to be strong for him and yourself, because unfortunately this is life and even the shittiest things happen to good people.

falling out of love unfortunately falls into that category.

he places a kiss on your forehead and wraps his arms tightly around your frame as a final goodbye, embracing all of you within these last few moments as a reminder of how much love and respect he has for you.

“so this is it.” he whispers softly, slowly getting up from the bed and untangling himself from his previous hold on you, acting as if his emotional outburst didn’t even happen, composing himself to make this already hard process the slightest bit easier.

matching his actions, you get up as well and follow him out of the bedroom, glancing back at your half empty room and feeling your heart shatter.

no more stealing his sweaters when you’re cold and want to be comfy. no more late nights of talking or making love. no more doyoung.

“this is it.” you whisper back, not having much to say, the tightness in your chest growing further as you continue to relish in such heartbreak together. you were each other’s first serious loves, and not having that constant in your lives will be such a heart wrenching adjustment.

“i love you, doyoung.” you say, needing to remind him that there will always be a part of him in your heart and that you’re sorry things ended this way.

“i know, love. i’ll always love you. i’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“i’d like that.” you nod, the emotions filling up your chest, suddenly making it hard to breathe knowing this is all happening now. “be safe getting to your apartment.”

“always.” he winked, tears evident in his eyes as he began to turn his body away from yours and towards the final box beside the front door, turning the knob and leaving for good- gone from the love and home you’ve both invested so much time and warmth into.

you’ve spent so much of your life with this man, planned so much and anticipated such a beautiful future just for it to end and for you both not to know how to fix the broken pieces you left each other in.

maybe someday in the future you and doyoung will get back together and plan that beautiful wedding and have those three beautiful kids in a big house with a pool and a baby french bulldog.

but as for now you are letting go.

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct smut #kim doyung #nct #nct 127 #nct angst #kim doyoung scenarios

[salemorbit]

Do-Over

[Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro Hero!Reader]

warnings: angst y'all i'm feeling angsty; ends with fluff hehe; it's a LONG one boys!!

~~~~~~~

in which you and bakugou hit a speed bump in your relationship

~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

You dropped your keys on the table next to your door, slamming it shut with a sigh. You grimaced as you turned awkwardly to strip off your jacket, your shoulder twinging with pain from a minor injury during your recent scuffle.

The apartment was dark, not a soul around to greet you or wait up for you at such an hour. And that was fine, that was how you lived. But deep down inside, at this moment, you felt a pang in your chest that took the shape of a specific blond haired fireball.

Slipping your phone out of your back pocket, you unlocked it and let your thumb glide instinctively to the contact that you talked to the most. You pressed the call button and held the phone to your ear, slipping off your shoes gratefully.

It went to voicemail. Not even his mailbox was set up, just the automated number played in your ear. You let the robotic voice run through its mantra before leaving a message at the tone.

"Hey, it's me. I just got home. I...just wanted to make sure you were okay." You fiddled with your belt. "Call me when you get this."

You clicked end and slid your phone on the counter, leaving it be while you undressed from your work clothes. You cradled your whining shoulder as you slid off your shirt and tossed it aside, mentally making a note to do laundry later.

The past few days at your hero agency had been hard. There were so many hoodlums and villains clogging up your to-do list that you barely had time to call your boyfriend and make sure he was doing all right. It was radio silence from him nearly all week.

But you two had been busy. For some reason, this week was the one time that every baddie wanted to cause chaos. Or at least it felt like it. You slumped down on your dingy couch and stared at the ceiling. Hero work was exhausting, and you didn't even know if it paid off in the long run.

And just a few hours ago you were dealing with a messy explosion of villainy in the middle of your district. It was hard to keep the destruction in check, and you had gotten minorly injured in the process. Your sore shoulder was a scar to boot.

Katsuki had been there, in fact a few of his co-workers had been, too. But he didn't pay you any special attention. You didn't know if that bothered you or not.

Yes, you were both on the job and vowed not to let your relationship get in the way of your hero work as much as possible. On the other hand, you hadn't seen or spoken to Katsuki in a whole week, and the first time you had and he didn't even nod a greeting. What was his issue? It wasn't like you had gotten into an argument or anything.

Shuddering out of thought, you heard your phone buzz once on the counter. You got up and checked it, half expecting it to just be a junk mail message. You were surprised to see that it was a message from Katsuki himself.

I'm home. Goodnight.

You frowned. That was it? You called and left a message, he hadn't spoken to you all week, and all he sent was a three word text?

You didn't know what overcame you, but the frustration inside bubbled up and spilled over in an instant. You turned and activated your quirk out of pure adrenaline, chucking your phone across the room and sending it straight through the apartment wall and soaring into the street below.

That calmed you down quickly. You ran over to your window and threw up the sash, looking down and around for your shattered piece of a phone. But it was gone. You sighed heavily and shut the window, storming into your bedroom and falling into your sheets with a huff.

Now you needed a new phone and, quite possibly, a new boyfriend.

•••

The next day you were off of work, so you took a pain reliever for your shoulder and headed to the nearest phone store to get a new phone. After awkwardly explaining the situation to the clerk, you received a new model and decided to pay a visit to the one man who had gotten you so riled up in the first place.

Katsuki would've been lying if he said he wasn't relieved to see you on the other side of his door that afternoon. He'd had a tiring week, and honestly all he wanted to do was spend time with you and recharge for the most part before doing it all over again.

What he wasn't prepared for, however, was the frown on your face and the angry tapping of your foot as you stood in his doorway.

"You seem unbothered," you said shortly. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows and let himself get shoved aside as you bustled into his apartment.

"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" Katsuki muttered as he shut the door. You grit your teeth and crossed your arms, obviously unhappy, though Katsuki couldn't figure out why.

"Go look in the mirror and take a guess," you glowered. "What's your issue? Why haven't you returned any of my messages this week?"

"I've been busy, you know that," Katsuki crossed his arms as well, not allowing you to have an intimidation factor in this conversation. "This week was hell."

"It was busy for me, too, but I still made the time."

"What are you going on about, dunceface?"

"Your inability to communicate!" You threw your hands in the air. "I've been trying to check in on you this week, but you haven't responded, if at all. And you didn't call me back last night! Just a text? One? I wanted to make sure you were okay after that fight, and you didn't even humor me."

"So? I'm fine."

"I didn't know that," you stressed. Katsuki let out a breath, still not getting it, and this made you even more angry.

"I don't know where this sudden clinginess is coming from-"

"It's not being clingy!" You erupted. "Are you so dense that you haven't realized how checked-out you've been recently? I've given you multiple opportunities to pick up the slack. I've excused your behaviours, given you space, and respected your silence this entire time. You haven't given me anything to work with. It's called being concerned and trying to keep our relationship going, which you don't seem the least bit interested in doing."

"And what if I'm not?" Katsuki growled, just plain upset you were accusing him of things he wasn't doing, at least in his mind. "What would you do if I didn't want to keep this schtick up, huh?"

"Then I'd be wasting my time standing here," you snapped. "And I'd have wasted the last two years on you."

Katsuki felt something in his chest cry, shattering and splitting through the floor below his feet. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying his best not to set his living room on fire.

You were there. You were right there, somewhere you hadn't been for the last week. And yeah, he'll admit that maybe he's been a bit distant lately, and the sudden influx in hero-work definitely wasn't helping the situation either. But he was trying to deal with things he hadn't quite felt before, one of those things being his feelings for you.

As of recent, something had shifted in his gut. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, and it wasn't like he was going to consult Kirishima or Kaminari about this. God knows they'd just make fun of him for worrying about your relationship.

Did he feel ashamed? Was it embarrassing him that he felt like this for someone? Katsuki Bakugou didn't get embarrassed, so what was this?

"I think we're done here," you muttered, looking down to hide the tears welling up in your eyes. You slid around Katsuki to reach the door, but you were stopped by Katsuki grabbing your arm gently.

You jerked your arm from his grasp, turning to look at him with your chin held high, keeping your trembling lip from showing itself. Katsuki had something in his eyes that had never been there before, and you hated it. You hated that you couldn't read him anymore.

"I don't know you like I thought I did, Bakugou." He flinched at that one. "This was obviously a mistake. I'll see you around."

And you were out the door and out of his range, leaving Katsuki Bakugou to stand in his living room at a loss for words. Something he hadn't been ever since he first met you.

•••

You took the breakup terribly, to say the least.

Yes, you were technically the one who broke it off, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to do it. You didn't want to shut things down like that, but Katsuki had left you no choice. He wasn't getting it, and it felt like he was going to continue to not get it. You just couldn't spend your energy like that anymore.

Mina and Momo were there for you from the second you broke down at a bus stop and called them to pick you up. They were there in a split second, not pressuring you for information until you wanted to tell them.

They were more disappointed in Katsuki than mad. They didn't like how he hadn't been communicating things with you about how he felt or why he had been distant. You broke and told them how it had been going on like this for almost a month now, and this last week was just the tipping point. They backed your decision and got you anything you needed for the next few days, until you were able to be on your own and process the emotions you felt.

Katsuki hadn't tried to call you at all. No texts, emails, voicemails. Your phone was a dry desert, except for the concerned text Midoriya sent you after you assumed Mina and Momo had told him about the debacle. He offered to talk to Katsuki about it, but you declined. It was best to just let it be, let it sink in that Katsuki had messed up royally.

Meanwhile, the man in question was quiet for the next few days. His coworkers noticed his lack of remarks, his friends noticed his distant appearances. All Katuski had been doing since you walked out that door was think. He was thinking long and hard about what he wanted, where you fit into his life, and the way he had acted as of recent. This was quite possibly the most Katsuki had ever thought about anything; typically he was so sure on the get-go that he needn't time to stop and reflect.

But this was different. You were different.

It wasn't until the next Saturday after your breakup that Katsuki found himself on the other side of your apartment door, hand poised to knock. He decided he didn't want to do something like this over the phone; it was just too impersonal. So he mustered up the courage to face you again, and prayed you wouldn't throw him out of your four-story high window in the process.

He knocked, waited. No answer. Getting slightly annoyed, he knocked again, louder. Still no answer.

Katuski was now incredibly annoyed, and bent down to take the key from under your doormat and just unlock the damn thing himself. As he lifted the mat, he saw a slip of paper taped to the floor where the key should've been:

Don't try to break in. Calling the police is not below me.

Katsuki huffed, standing up and going to knock on the door again when he was interrupted by the rustling of paper bags. He turned over his shoulder and saw you standing on the opposite end of the hallway, holding some grocery bags in your arms and staring right at the blond standing on your doormat.

There was a tense few moments of silence before you broke it, audibly frustrated.

"Can you get out of the way so I can put these inside?" You frowned. Katsuki blinked, then moved aside to let you fumble your key in the lock dumbly.

"I can-"

"Shut up," was all you said before opening the door and letting it bang against the inside wall. Katuski stood on the threshold, unsure of if he should just walk in or not, before inviting himself in as soon as he figured you wouldn't give him the time of day. He watched from your counter as you passive aggressively slammed things on the counter or into their place in your kitchen.

"Care telling me why you're here?" You asked, flat-toned and not looking at Katsuki in the slightest.

"I wanted to talk."

"About?"

He rolled his eyes. "Us, dimwit."

You stopped and let your head hang, propping yourself on the counter with your hands spread flat. You still didn't look up at him, which was greatly pissing him off.

"We already did. Last week," you said.

"That wasn't a conversation," Katsuki ground out. "That was you coming to me and exploding out of nowhere. I didn't even have the chance to-"

"It wasn't out of nowhere," you interjected.

"Stop interrupting me, damn it, and just let me talk!" Katsuki spat. You looked up at him with a withered look, making his fire simmer down immediately.

"Fine," you said, voice wavering slightly. Katsuki cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He smiled slightly, bittersweet. You didn't react, so he went on.

"You're an idiot because you've got terrible tunnel vision," he said, glancing at the living room that looked like you had been sleeping in. You had a perfectly tangible bed in the next room, but there were just too many memories in there for you to spend the night in again.

"I can see fine," you grumbled.

"No, you can't," Katsuki looked back at you. "You haven't been able to see how hard I've been trying these last few weeks to figure things out. Figure us out."

"Well how the hell am I supposed to know that if you don't tell me anything?" You asked, trying to keep your voice from rising. The last thing you needed was a fight. You were just too tired.

"That's...something I need to work on," Katsuki muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "And I will admit that. Don't make fun of me for it."

"I never said I would."

"Great, because I gotta whole lotta other things to admit to." His eyes narrowed. "I don't wanna hear shit from you for the next five minutes, got it?"

You sighed, miming zipping your mouth shut as you went back to putting away your groceries. You might as well let him talk, since you knew his stubbornness wouldn't let him leave your kitchen so soon without him getting in his two cents.

"I've been thinking long and hard lately," he began. "On my own. Nothin' from anyone else except my own thoughts. So this is one hundred percent me.

"I screwed up. I did. And it took me a minute to realize it because I was so much in my head about things. I was so focused on trying not to mess us up that I went and did that shit anyway. And all you've been is supportive and caring, and quite honestly I don't know how to handle that since I haven't really been with anyone like that."

He was being honest, you knew from his tone of voice. It was a tone you had heard only a few times before this moment: when he told you he loved you. And you believed it.

Katsuki took in a breath: "So I'm here. And I'm sorry. At first I was mad at you for marchin' into my house the other day and spewing things I knew nothing about, but then I realized that you were spewing those things because you knew nothing about me and where I was at. And that was frustrating for you because you got that whole communication thing you like to do, or whatever."

"Or whatever," you mumbled to yourself, smiling slightly. He picked up on that, his spirits lifting a bit as well.

"I've just been thinking about things and where you are and who I want you to be to me as we live our lives. And I screwed it up by not talking to you about that either. It's a conversation we both should have. So," he sighed, "I'm sorry. And I'll continue to be sorry because you don't deserve to be left in the dark. I love you, and I want to be better."

He finished his little speech and the two of you were quiet. You had paused putting things away about halfway through, really listening to him and what he had to say. He deserved that from you in the least.

You looked up at him and saw that he had already been staring at you, an intent look in his eyes. It was your turn now. He wanted a response to his being vulnerable. You knew it wasn't easy for him to open up like that, despite the last two years of helping him get comfortable, so you didn't torture him with the suspense.

"We'll see," you said. Katsuki did a double take, eyebrows furrowing.

"We'll see?" He repeated. You nodded rounding your counter to stand in front of him.

"If we want to keep doing this for however many more years we keep doing this," the corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk, "then we'll just have to see."

"Great," Katsuki rolled his eyes and sent a seething glare out the window. "I totally lay myself on the train tracks and you just run me over like that. Thanks."

"But," you continued, trying to catch his eye, "I appreciate you coming to me. And I appreciate the apology. However, I won't know if I can accept it until I know you'll actually go through with it."

"Understandable," Katsuki sighed, comprehending this. "I deserve that one."

"Are you ready for a do-over?" You asked, catching his hands in yours. He couldn't help but notice a weight in his chest lift at the presence of your touch after weeks of barely anything. Katsuki still had some work to do, but it was worth it if he could keep you around.

"Always," he kissed you on the forehead and you smiled giddily.

"Awesome because we now have two weekends of cuddle-time to make up for, and my bedroom hasn't been used in a week," you led him to your door.

"Oh no," Katsuki complained sarcastically, "however will we make up for such lost time?"

"Shut up, you big doofus," you grinned. "You know you love me."

"That I do."

~~~~~~~

a teensy tiny bit of OOC bakugou near the end there but like. he'd be a sucker for that and totally willing if it was just the two of you around HAHA

anyways this was cute and i....am forever still in love w bakugou :))))

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #my hero fic #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #katsuki #katuski x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero fanfiction #boku no hero #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou fic #my hero academia fic #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou angst

[janetbrown711]

"Why should you get to be angry? It's my life you're messing with" Yakko?

Yakko was still angry, even though it had been over a week since Max had visited.

His siblings' hostility towards Max was really getting on his nerves. Sure, Max caught on pretty early and no one was hurt, but still. It threw everything off- though what that 'everything' was, Yakko wasn't sure.

All he knew was that there was this... pulse, or energy. Like a magnet- Yakko had wanted to touch his face. Why? Max had almost not stopped him- what did that mean?

The fluttering, the blushing, the magnetism, what did it mean???

And why was it every time Yakko felt like maybe he'd figure it out, something or someone always interrupted. Even when Max wasn't there- Yakko would just be trying to sort things out in his head or reading a book, but either his sibs, or his classes, or his parents, or something else distracted him.

That didn't stop him from trying though, as he and Max still continued to write to each other daily, already setting up for Max to visit again tomorrow. He constantly read and reread Max's letters- absorbing every word to craft a perfectly witty yet sincere response. He valued Max and his friendship, he didn't want to ruin it.

And hey, he could tell he was improving. Over the letters he managed to never bring up his grandmother even once- and most of his conversations with Max avoided her too (for the most part... he was working on that). At least he knew other topics now.

However, he was still peeved at his siblings for their attempts to ruin it. Sure Max was clever enough to catch it- but if he hadn't? What if Max had never wanted to see him again after that? What if he had gotten hurt? It was totally irresponsible. He thought Wakko and Dot were better than that.

So- yeah. He was mad, though perhaps angry was too strong. He had mostly buried his anger deep within himself when his father pulled him aside and told him not to get mad at his sibs and that they just needed time, but the anger still resided deep in his chest. Reading the letters did calm him a little though, so that was nice.

However, the day before Max was to come over again, as Yakko went to reread through the letters he found the box that he stored them in to be empty. He searched through every possible drawer and every possible location in the entire castle before admitting what his gut instinct had told him.

His letters were stolen.

And he had a theory on who the culprit could be.

.o0o.

Yakko found his younger brother in his old room, the one nearby the room once belonging to their grandmother, with the private letters all sprawled out before him as he read over them.

All attempts to keep this a civil conversation were thrown out the window in that instant.

"Wakko, what the hell are you doing with my letters?!" Yakko did at least attempt not to shout, but he caught his brother off guard, as he nearly jumped to the ceiling in surprise.

"Y-yakko- I-i thought- I'm just-" Wakko scrambled to gather his mind.

"These letters are none of your business! Why on earth do you have them?!" Yakko approached, angrily taking the letters back.

"I-i thought you read them all- I thought you didn't need them- I-i just-" Wakko fought Yakko, pulling on the letters.

"These are private letters full of private emotions, Wakko. You have no business- I haven't even read this one! What is wrong with you?!" Yakko yanked harder, causing Wakko to let go.

"I-i just- Max is just-"

"Max is just what? Being my friend? Being the first person outside of my family that's ever connected with me?! God forbid I have a life outside of you two!" The elder brother fumed.

"H-he's just trying to take you away! You can't see it because you're like- in love with him- or something!" Wakko bit back.

Yakko froze.

"What did you say..?" Yakko's eye twitched.

"Y...you're like- in love with him. He's just trying to take you away- he's just like grandma!" Wakko argued.

"Max is nothing like grandma." Yakko snapped. "Max has made me the happiest I've ever been in my entire miserable fucking life! You should know that after snooping around my private fucking letters!" Yakko shouted, his voice cracking slightly as he felt himself begin to tear up.

"I just- god-! How could you be so selfish? Why can't you just be happy for me?!" Yakko demanded to know.

Wakko opened his mouth to utter some kind of reply, when without warning, their mother burst through the door.

"What on earth is all this shouting about?" She demanded to know. Wakko attempted to blink away his tears, which unfortunately caused them to fall so instead he picked up what letters he could before storming out without another word.

"Yakko. Tell me what happened. Now." She locked eyes with Yakko, deciding it best to give the younger brother a moment to himself.

Yakko sighed, wiping his tears from his eyes as he sat on Wakko's old bed. Lena was quick to join him, slowly rubbing his back.

"He took my letters. he's been reading them- all of them." Yakko explained bitterly. Lena slowly nodded.

"I just- those are private thoughts between the two of us- it's not just my privacy, it's Max's too. I-it's like Wakko has no respect for either of u-us," Yakko hiccuped a little.

"Now Yakko, you know that isn't true. Wakko thinks the world of you," Lena reminded softly. "He's just... confused. And scared."

"Oh yeah? He can join the club then," Yakko sniffled.

"Look... I know you're going through a lot with Max right now: new emotions, new situations, and the like, but... you've been plenty selfish too, especially in neglecting your siblings, Yakko. They've tried getting your attention several times but they feel as though you won't give them the time of day," Lena held one of his hands.

"I-i haven't-..." Yakko's instinct was to protest but as he reflected upon the past few months, he recognized the truth behind her words.

"Shit..." He muttered.

"Now, I'm not going to make you cancel Max's visit for tomorrow, but do know that after he's gone I want you to spend some good quality time with your siblings, alright? I'm sure Max will understand your situation plenty," Lena said softly yet firmly.

"Y-yeah... I guess I've been pretty wrapped up, haven't I?" He chuckled weakly.

"It's alright dear, so long as you do your best to recognize the mistake and make up for it through your actions," She kissed the top of his head. Yakko sighed and leaned his head on her shoulder.

The pair stayed like this a moment, before Lena decided she had waited long enough and it was time for her to seek out Wakko. However, as she started to head through the door, Yakko stopped her.

"Mom?" He asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you-... Am I...?"

Yakko bit his lip as he tried to think of what to ask.

"How do you know if you're in love?"

Lena chuckled softly.

"Hard to say, as it truly is different for everyone... But from what I remember... it's a sense of comfort and peace; being at peace with who you are and who they are to the point where you constantly want to be with them for that peace... if that makes any sense." Lena shook her head.

"Then again, when has love ever made any sense?" She snickered.

"Uh-huh..." Yakko pondered her words.

"I'm sorry dear, I'm afraid that's something you'll have to figure out on your own," She explained. "I'm afraid I have to go to your brother now though, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah- that's... yeah," Yakko nodded and Lena headed out, leaving Yakko to sort out this new information.

.o0o.

Wakko hated shouting.

It made him feel small- like he was four all over again. God- why did he always just make things worse? He never backed down, even when he said something stupid.

He hid in one of the storage closets near the tower. It was dark and cramped, but it was where he felt he ought to be. After all, he didn't want to be seen.

He gripped the letters in his hands tighter. He didn't know why he took them that time- it was dumb. He was already caught- Yakko already knew he was a thief.

But it was to protect him against Max-

Max.

Just that name made Wakko's blood boil and angry tears increase.

He hated Max.

He hated him a lot. Yakko wouldn't see it- he was under his siren spell somehow. Wakko thought taking those letters would show him some kind of clue to unraveling it, but instead, it just showed how messed up and lost Yakko was. It hurt to read each word and Yakko's notes on the letters- the little question marks and underlines and occasional heart. Wakko hated it.

Wakko hated Max.

He hated him very, very much.

He was taking his brother away- his brother would never ignore him unless there was something very sinister forcing him too- which Max clearly was.

R...right?

Wakko continued crying.

However, after a while of crying in the dark a soft knock interrupted his tears as the door slowly opened to reveal his mother, who slowly sat on the ground outside the closet and opened her arms. Wakko hesitated a moment, before practically leaping out into her loving arms.

"There, there Wakko..." She soothed as he sobbed in her arms.

"I-i w-was just- i-i just-" he couldn't get his words out.

"I know darling, he shouldn't have shouted so much," she stroked his head.

"I-i just..." Wakko attempted to breathe enough to calm himself.

"I know... you don't trust Max yet, and it's scary seeing Yakko connect so quickly, I know," She moved him so she could see his face, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Wakko sniffled. "H-he's just trying to take him away."

"That's not true, Wakko. Max is just spending time with him- Yakko is just getting... a little caught up is all," Lena sighed.

"B-but he never ignored me like this before he met him," Wakko frowned.

"I know Wakko... he hasn't done his best with balancing everything out..." She said. "But... you haven't made it exactly easier either."

Wakko blinked at that.

"What I mean is... you haven't given Max a shot yet. You rejected him without giving him a shot to prove himself to you," Lena said.

Given him a shot..? Was she insane? She would never suggest he "give grandma a shot" so why was she suggesting to give Max a shot? Because he "seemed" friendlier and more charismatic???

"Wakko, look. Whether or not you like it, Yakko really really likes Max. The least you can do is give him a day to prove himself, alright?" Lena made him look at her.

She looked so desperate for him to believe her, it made him sad. She was clearly under Max's spell too.

It became clear to Wakko he had been underestimating Max. If he wanted him gone for good and to free his family from his influence, he was going to have to take drastic measures.

"Maybe..." he mumbled for her sake. Lena smiled softly and kissed the top of his hat.

"Yakko will really appreciate it," She said.

"Yeah, okay," Wakko looked at the ground.

Yakko will appreciate it when he's free of Max's stupid curse- all of them will be.

"I have to go back to work- will you be okay?" Lena asked. Wakko nodded. Lena slowly stood, helping Wakko up as well, before giving him another hug and a kiss on his hat.

"It's gonna be okay Wakko, just give him a chance," She said.

"Okay," he said, giving a weak smile. Lena gave a similarly weak smile back before hugging him once more and walking away.

'Give him a chance.' Oh please- Wakko would give him a chance alright.

Wakko stormed right back into that storage closet, climbed up to the tallest shelf, and pulled down the highest key, before storming right on down to the tower- quickly and furiously unlocking the massive lock just to be sure, and-

Yes, they hadn't bricked it off quite yet.

Wakko now had the perfect to keep Max far away from his family for the rest of his life.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 The End

#my fics #animaniacs #wakko warner #yakko warner #queen angelina ii #angelina warner #it's finally done!!! #sorry for the wait #and the shitty chapter- #this took a shit long time to write- #but hey! we got hella angst coming up #so look forward to that ;3 #(which should be coming out a lot sooner fingers crossed) #if you read this i love you #and again so sorry for the wait

[apixrl]

IT'S YOU.

hanta sero x fem!reader

WARNING(S): slight angst. mostly arguing / tension but fluff towards the end.

word count: 5.3k

song: it's you // gavriel

note(s): if u stan him ur immediately just so hot and sexc and if not ur just really stinky sorry not sorry

italian translation - translator !!

The heavy pouring rain waged war against your once dry and stylish jacket. The piece of clothing now resorted to an added weight as you strode forth to reach your apartment complex. Luckily you were only a street away, your hurried walk turning into a legitimate jog when the storeyed building came into sight. It was Friday night, meaning the day you worked overtime for the sake of earning a little extra as well as filling in for a coworker. Most of the day the weather had been miserable, the sky maintaining a mundane and drilling grey cloudy sketch that slowly collected into rain. Luckily your morning walk to work hadn't been affected by the downfall but the weather had chosen to stick around for your walk home.

Your jacket glued itself to your frame as its capability to keep you dry fleetly decreased, the hoodie underneath beginning to dampen ever so faintly too. Your pants were already taken to the rain, answering its call by absorbing the water into the fabric and making them exceptionally uncomfortable to wear. The pair of shoes on your feet struggled to bind together as they countlessly stepped in puddle after puddle, wearing and tearing with every step you took.

Cars passed by, tires causing gushes of water to hit the pavement. The street lamps did nothing to show your presence as they sped by, your body growing damper from the droplets of water hitting you. You briefly scolded the inconsiderate drivers in your head, eyes glancing ahead to meet an approaching individual. They were most likely a neighbour but given the darkness surrounding you weren't entirely sure, ultimately deciding to keep your head down and not draw attention to yourself.

In truth, this wasn't the only reason.

During the last week and a half, your want to socialise was relatively low, finding a lot of your spare time spent at home and in your own company. The separation from society was healthy for your recently plagued mind, spending afternoons finding all kinds of homely leisure to pass the hours by. It felt much more wholesome and enjoyable to endeavour in a story from your bookshelf or writing poetry in your journal straight from the heart rather than sitting aimlessly on your phone. Simply scrolling through social media to bore the day away.

Why the sudden stray from society to your own little world? Well... sometimes having a popular Pro Hero as a boyfriend came with its cons. Especially when hardships came between. As of the Tuesday approaching, it would be your ten-month anniversary with your partner - Hanta. Or what he was better known as; Taping Hero: Cellophane.

Yours and his meet was rather mundane truth be told. What started as a journey to purchase a recently released volume of one of Hanta's favourite manga comics took a drastic turn and became something much more meaningful. He caught you grabbing the final copy available, smoothly swooping in to attempt to charm you into giving him the comic (the ravenette had been to about five stores before that during patrol - a rather lousy thing to do but he justified his actions with lack of spare time). However, he walked out with a date two nights later instead, finding himself be moved by your own charms and attraction that Hanta urged himself to ask and not miss the chance.

From there, things were taken slow. His social status was shared pretty quickly, faster than Hanta felt comfortable with - liking the idea of you liking him for who he was over his fame and wealth. It didn't affect your perspective of the ravenette, since you had already fallen for him before such information could be told. It took a month before you officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, and life couldn't have been better for the pair of you. For the most part, your relationship was perfectly stable and as healthy as you could make it. But unfortunately, all good things must come with a cost.

See, one thing you were to learn with growing closer to Hanta was he kept his personal life extremely separate from his heroic persona. Such a statement was made very clear before you brought your relationship to the next level since the ravenette requested that if you were to become lovers that he would want it to remain private. So he could feel he had a somewhat normal life outside of his duties as a hero. Whilst becoming a Pro was his dream and the man loved his job, Hanta was also a sucker for peace and quiet too. Having that metaphorical and literal balance in his life granted him inner peace, and as his partner, you respected that.

At least at first, since you didn't think you would reach ten months together and still be hiding behind sunglasses whenever the pair of you wanted to see a movie.

You couldn't lie, it was endearingly sweet Hanta felt that way, partly anyway. The fact he cherished your love and relationship so close to his heart that it was only shared between you two. But your irrationality couldn't help but make you wonder how in a concerning way, Hanta's desire to keep you from his greatest achievement in life (becoming a top ten pro) almost felt like he was hiding you... like he didn't want you a part of it. And once that thought struck you as the ravenette rested peacefully beside you one night, it didn't shy away anytime soon. Given the fact you had spoken briefly about making yourselves public in the past with little to no issue, you didn't think you would cause harm by bringing it up again. But it seemed your choice of when to bring it up was poor, as it most certainly did not run smoothly between you.

Something about his day had irritated Hanta, and so you pinning such focus on the subject seemed to pass him over his limit. There were a few snaps here and there, which you didn't necessarily appreciate, and Hanta's lack of enthusiasm and care for your request made you all the more upset. So weighted emotions matched with the evident disagreement surely lead to Hanta storming out of your apartment with such a slam to the door you wouldn't have expressed shock if your neighbour's stepped out in the hall to see the chaos ensuing.

That was nine days ago, and so far neither of you had seen nor spoken to the other. You'd made attempts to contact him since then, attempts you knew before you tried would come out unsuccessful. But from observation, Hanta was surprisingly a complete mess when it came to emotions based on negativity. Whenever the ravenette grew angry or agitated he became a closed book, so hard for you to read that the only thing you learned that worked was to give him space. To let him get through his upset alone since he never seemed to allow for outer help and comfort to assist. Which you despised because you wanted to help him through his troubles. To be there as the big spoon or to be the shoulder to cry on. But stupid male pride got in the way, Hanta building a wall so high and thick between him, his emotions and you that truth be told you had no idea how to push through.

So you resorted to letting him get over it in his own time, knowing deep down he would come around eventually. It wasn't the first quarrel you'd had and hopefully not the worst, and you knew this was Hanta's way of dealing with it. Whilst you had been willing to wait it out, you placed that thought in your head thinking it to be only two or three days before Hanta made some sort of effort.

But it was nine. And that was beginning to concern you greatly.

You finally reached the stairs leading up to your apartment building, the relief flowing through your system so freeing and wonderous. All that was left was to type in the passcode by the main doors and you would be merrily under shelter, able to kick off your trainers and slip into some comfy sweats. Perhaps even make yourself a warm cup of cocoa and watch an episode of a show you needed to catch up on before the sweet release of sleep. Or so you thought it was going to go.

Twenty minutes later and your thumb grazed lightly over your phone's home screen, imaginatively stroking the black hair of a certain boy you loved dear as he smiled cross-eyed back at you. The photo was taken when Hanta took you ice skating in the countryside during the winter which previously passed. He discovered a secluded location hiding a spacious lake that had been glazed with thick, sturdy ice. After numerous times of losing your balance, Hanta deemed it amusing to take a photo with you as you sat on your backside in defeat. And whilst it did humiliate you, you adored Hanta's goofy looking face in the photo. Hence why it was your background.

You'd found yourself staring at the photo the night prior too, contemplating whether to try to call again or not. What if something was wrong? What if Hanta was injured and somewhere under repair at one of the numerous hospitals in the city? God... what if the doofus finally slung himself across the city as crazily as that Western hero he never shut up about and fell to his death? And your setback from social media was the reason you hadn't found out yet? See! This was a reason why you wanted to go public! At least in an emergency, somebody would know who to contact!

Your brows crinkled at that final thought, what began as concern moving back a step to annoyance and you settled on tossing your phone behind you on your bed in defeat. Proceeding to stand upright, you tugged the oversized hoodie (Hanta's hoodie not to mention) on your person and wandered through the rooms of your apartment to your kitchen. Where the bubbling of your kettle boiling water filtered your ears. The low hum calmed you as you leaned against the counter in thought, arms crossed over your chest and your eyes focused deeply beyond the wooden flooring.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The noise went unheard at first, so occupied in your head you mistook the sound for the kettle boiling. But when the triple trill sounded again, it dawned on you that that was most certainly not how a kettle was supposed to sound. Snapping out of your focus, your head lifted to the kettle before it scanned the room around you. Nothing seemed different at all, and nothing inside your apartment had a reason to make such a sound.

Unless you had rats... then maybe that would make sense.

Please don't be rats.

Having no initial success, you blankly went back to your thoughtful state - the kettle finally boiling. Permitting you to fill the lavender painted mug that waited impatiently on the side, four heaped teaspoons of cocoa powder begging for hydration inside. Now actually having something to do you hoisted yourself off of the counter, stepping to the one opposite to do the task at hand. But then just as you were going to pour the heated water...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap!

This time it was more rushed and heightened, holding a lack of patience to a certain extent. It was there you finally trailed your eyes left, right and centre, your E/C irises landing on the french doors past your sofa which lead to your balcony. Doing as much as possible to downplay your panic by putting on a brave face, you manoeuvred from your perch in the kitchen and headed for the doors to glance outside. Thankfully the light on the balcony was switched on, giving you a glimpse of silhouettes to the arrangement of the outdoor area. At first, nothing seemed different at all. Just the usual setting your balcony always had. A few potted plants and a small sakura blossom which you'd been growing from the seed, as well as a glass table and four chairs. Not to mention the closed up umbrella and pole reaching for the stars above too. But looking over your observations, something went amiss. Since when did you have five chairs?

Squinting your eyes in a struggle to focus better, they were only set to widen as it hit you what you could see. There, perched on your balcony in a squatting position was a person... balancing perfectly on the thin pole as their head leaned forwards to occasionally peer inside the glass doors. It took a second or two for you to figure out what was going on. But the moment you recalled the fact you had a boyfriend with the ability to swing from rooftop to rooftop, your heart both plummeted to your feet and leapt to the heavens above simultaneously.

After realising what was happening, you moved to the lock of the glass doors and grabbed hold. That movement seemed to indicate shifting on the exterior because the person on the other side stood upright and casually stepped off the railing as though it were a stair. You swallowed thickly, clamping down on the inside of your cheek in worry that you could not see his face. Unfortunate for your nerves since at least then you could gain some form of presumption to what his expression read. So walking in blind, you unlocked the door and jiggled it open, the glass door sliding to the side easily. Quickly did the silent walls of your apartment be filled to the brim with the heavy downpour of rain and distant car horns in the distance. As well as the overhanging state of tension in the air as your eyes trailed up the slender frame of your visitor and meeting the ebony eyes you'd been missing for far too long now.

"What... what are you doing here?" You uttered out after a long twenty seconds passed. Upon opening the door no words were said, only the longing gaze of two conflicted lovers. Hanta stood before you with a discouraged expression, lips tightly pursed together with no catchphrase toothy grin to show. He was donning his hero costume, though his helmet appeared to be missing for reasons you didn't know why. But it didn't help Hanta one bit since his black locks were laced with the heavy downpour from above. You imagined his hero costume was drenched as well, damp spandex sounding all too discomforting in your head as you used it as a focus to ease the nerves you felt to the sudden visit.

"Hey," Hanta finally said after what felt like a millennium. What were his usual cheerful tones came out low and unsure, like the ravenette hadn't come prepared and was relying on other factors to push himself forward. With sunken brows and a clear of his throat, Hanta continued as he lifted his eyes to meet yours. "Can I come in?"

"Oh... right, sure," You stated blankly and stepped back for him to do so. At first, you wanted to ask him why he decided to come to your balcony of all things, but the look in his eyes had convinced you to wait for that chance. There was just something about those gorgeous orbs of ebony you couldn't say no to - conflict or not. Luckily your apartment flooring was hard, meaning any water from Hanta's shoes (or soles as his costume didn't use shoes) could be mopped up and dealt with later. Not that you were thinking about that at all. Your mind was too focused on processing what was going on.

"I was in the neighbourhood and you know that my tape is crap in rain so... I didn't know where else to crash," Hanta started once inside your apartment. He nervously laughed as though to ease inner feelings, hands meeting his hips in a lost attempt to make conversation. It was mainly due to the fact you hadn't properly greeted him, sort of dawdling between him and the sofa. You looked Hanta up and down and sighed, seeing how soaked he was.

"Here... slip this on," You lifted your hands over your head to tug the hoodie off, holding it out for Hanta to take. It was his anyway, and it would be a lie to say you weren't wearing it for his scent. Underneath the hoodie, you donned a simple black tank top you tended to wear during your morning jogs or times of exercise. The ravenette took it reluctantly, initiating you to head for your bedroom. "I'll go grab you some pants too. And a towel for your hair,"

"Oh... okay then," Hanta was genuinely astonished by the hospitality, watching you disappear down the hall. As you grabbed the aforementioned items, he began to remove the top half of his hero costume. It was true that Hanta loved his hero costume very much but when it came to the rain he wanted nothing more than to change the design completely. The spandex soaked up the rain and it took hours to drip out, not only dampening him but also multiplying its weight much more than double its usual. With his tape dispenser shoulder pads placed on the floor, Hanta stripped himself of his top half. Sighing when he discovered the rain had seeped through and dampened his skin. Luckily you entered the room shortly after, carrying some grey sweats of Hanta's and a freshly cleaned towel.

"So... is there any other reason you decided to scare the crap out of me on my balcony?" You questioned flatly, a hand on your hip as you held the towel out for Hanta, placing the sweats on the sofa cushion next to him. He mumbled a quick thanks, promptly starting to dry his upper half.

"Well yeah," The ravenette stopped momentarily to glance your way, ebony eyes finding you back at the countertop in the kitchen where you resumed the task of making cocoa. Hanta quickly expressed a sigh. "W-We gotta talk,"

"About?" You asked innocently, though you were fully aware of what was being implied. Chewing the inside of your cheek as you did your best not to make eye contact, Hanta furrowed his brows at you.

"I think you know,"

"Well, are we starting afresh or picking up where we left off? The moment you decided to storm out of here and slam the door shut?" You spoke in a passive-aggressive manner because truth be told, you didn't appreciate Hanta's way of handling your last discussion at all. So you were certainly planning on letting him know. Speaking of which, Hanta was now scrubbing his raven locks dry as his eyes closed in response. Almost like he expected you to react in such a manner. Though he refrained from biting back, knowing that would only make it worse. Not his aim for visiting.

"Starting afresh,"

"Okay then," Was all you said, stirring your spoon and tapping it quite obnoxiously on the side of the mug before dropping it into the kitchen sink. Then you moved to the fridge to grab yourself some squirty cream. The can practically empty, it reminded you how badly you needed to go grocery shopping the next day. As for a reply, from across the room, you could only see the essence of hesitance. Either from Hanta figuring where to go from that or ultimate regret for even coming. Your bets were on both.

"Look Y/N -," The ravenette began, relatively quick to dry the rest of himself off and to put on the remaining clothes. Just as he was prepared to skirt over to your side, his actions ceased upon seeing you setting yourself down on the armchair opposite. Hanta had a moment where he didn't move, unsure what to do before he resorted to sitting down on the sofa. Feeling it the only safe thing to do. "I don't want problems between us. It's the last thing I want, okay?"

"I um... okay," You said, fingertips tapping lightly against the ceramic mug filled to the brim with whipped cream and cocoa. Hanta met your gaze for a split second, hands proceeding to fiddle with the other much more prominently.

"But... I want you to know that I've been thinking about it and well... I guess if it'll make you happy, I'm willing to do it and go public," Hanta spoke through a sigh. Peculiar, because a week ago you would have probably broken into a bright smile and jumped straight into the ravenette's arms then and there. Yet, you remained in your seat and mouthed a small oh of... disappointment was it? Whilst you weren't certain what it was, it most definitely felt like that. Which was odd because the words Hanta had just uttered were the ones you had been waiting to hear for months now.

Funnily enough, it didn't take you long to figure out why. Because throughout the previous week and the lack of contact, that's exactly what had been the route of the problem. The way Hanta treated you during your last interaction and the lack of communication mixed with it. It wasn't the original issue anymore. Of course, you still wanted that. But you additionally craved a sense of closure for how you were treated.

"Hanta I...," Hanta's brows crinkled together in a frown, not shy to display his confusion to your hesitant tones.

"What? What is it? T-That's what you want right?" He replied.

"Yes, it's what I want. But that's not the issue anymore,"

"What do you mean? I'm not following...," His response made you scoff. Not exactly great for the situation at hand. You remained silent for a little bit longer, scratching the side of your head as you sat upright to elaborate.

"Hanta... you haven't texted or called me in over a week. You walked out of here after a fight and practically went radio silent!" Was your protest, watching as Hanta fell back against the sofa. Unbeknownst to you, there was another reason he did this. An inner conflict he had yet to unveil. A prolonged silence ensued as if Hanta was trying to find the correct words to say.

"Because I needed space Y/N... time to think!"

"Yeah well we both did... but even calling just to say that would have been reassuring," You weren't finished despite trailing off, Hanta seeming to notice by the way your lips were faintly parted. "I know you have a busy schedule but... but...," The thought entered your mind for a split moment, doing much more damage than intended.

"But what?"

"It doesn't matter. I-it's stupid," You tried to brush it off, suppressing the thought further down into your system so it wouldn't win you over. Hanta didn't seem to like that though, his head tilting your way with his eyes boring into your own. He could tell when something was bothering you, just from your body language.

"No. Tell me,"

"You're not losing interest in me, are you?" It sounded ridiculous the moment you uttered the words, and it sounded even more ridiculous as Hanta's hands met the bridge of his nose in a heavy sigh. Quickly causing you to further your point. "I-I just thought that you not wanting to go public and being 'busy' was a nice way of saying -,"

"Don't even finish that sentence,"

"Sorry," The silence lingering between you both drowned out your voice, to which you looked down at your hands with a sigh. The ravenette sat upright rather abruptly, shifting onto his feet and coursing a hand through his hair. There was a clashing frown on his face as he reflected on the words he just heard.

"I can't believe you would even think that... that I'm growing tired of you!" Hanta called out in disbelief, near offended by the accusation. His body twisted to face you, eyeing you down for some sort of explanation or justification to what you said.

"It's hard not to when you're giving off all these... these signs!" That was your best response. Though you were set to be cut off by another sharp sigh from Hanta. One of many expressed that rainy night. You watched as he walked on over to the glass doors he entered moments earlier, observing the rain slashing harshly against the clear surface. It had grown even heavier since his entry, the back of his mind relieved to be out of the dangerous weather and inside closed doors. He didn't ponder on it long though, returning to the situation at hand and leaving the indistinct 'pitter-patter' of the rain behind him.

"Y/N have you ever thought for a single moment why I've kept you secret for so long?"

"You said you liked your private life to be away from your hero one... a-and I get that!" You replied urgently. "I'm okay with all the publicity and the social media responses and -," As though he expected that answer, Hanta interrupted you with a near saddened laugh. It caused you to frown and glare his way, about to raise your voice if not for his own voice filling the apartment.

"You know my job isn't just walking around being a celebrity, right?" Hanta glanced back at you. "I'm a hero for crying out loud! I protect people from danger! People like you!" The ravenette pressed a closed fist against the glass pane of the door, forehead inches away from the surface since Hanta shifted most of his weight onto it. You tilted your head, frowning.

"I know that but -,"

"But do you?" Hanta's tone came off harsher than intended to emphasise his point. But he was quick to abandon it, clicking his tongue in defeat to a battle in his head when he realised he had to explain his case. He'd been reluctant to say anything about his activities in the last week since technically not even the press knew, but lying wasn't going to get Hanta and you anywhere. So he surrendered to the urge and spoke. "Listen, the reason I didn't message you this week is that I've been working non-stop over some drug trades going on. One's that have been going on for a while underground and ones that have gotten good people killed. I haven't had the time to focus on us even though our fight has been in my head all week and I've been shitting myself over talking about it because I don't want to lose you! I couldn't imagine life without you, Y/N and I feel like an ass for treating you how I did last time we spoke! But I haven't been able to tell you that because access to my phone has been slim, and I couldn't-,"

"Hanta?" You stood up gingerly, only speaking up due to the change of Hanta's aura. He had started curt and sharp but slowly tumbled into a more emotional demeanour. The more personal his small speech grew the more it started to affect him, probably the impact of his own thoughts taking their toll. There was even a voice crack at some point, one you'd never heard before. Hanta took a deep breath, bracing himself to speak again.

"It sounds like a lame excuse but it's the truth. I didn't want to say it. But I can't lie to you," He continued. "It's cases like this that have kept me from wanting to go public. B-Because if those people were to figure out who you are because of me...," There was a stifled shake of a breath, Hanta's voice quietening in fear just at the thought. "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself,"

You were speechless. So speechless you weren't even mad anymore. He was finally... finally being vulnerable with you and that seemed to be enough for you to erase all your grudges. Sure, work wasn't an excuse for everything. But in a circumstance like this one - with the job that Hanta lead, you could understand his reasons and in spite of your worry you knew the rules. No mobiles on operations. And finally, he was confiding to you about why he struggled with the thought of announcing your relationship. So in a very reluctant manoeuvre, you plucked up the courage to walk up behind him and wrap your arms around Hanta in a sorrowful hug. Hanta tensed up at first, breath running short, but he didn't push you away. A hopeful sign.

"I'm sorry for making it such a big deal when you had other things to think about," You said, pressing your lips to the back of his shoulder blade and giving the surface a peck. You remained there for a good few, adamant seconds before retracting. "And I'm sorry for never looking at it that way... or considering your feelings on the matter,"

"Y/n it's fine... just...," Hanta seized the opportunity to turn around to face you, running a hand through his ebony locks with one hand as his other slithered around you to return the hug. "I'm sorry I made you doubt me... I feel like shit about it and it wasn't my intention at all,"

"No! No! Don't apologise. It's okay, " You brought a hand to fiddle with the string of his hoodie. As much as it wasn't what you wanted, you had to see Hanta's perspective and understand his feelings too. This was a two-person relationship after all and had you known his feelings ran that deep, you wouldn't have pressed the matter as much as you had. "Look, we don't have to announce anything to anyone okay? If it makes you comfortable and happy then I'm willing to remain a mystery a little longer,"

That returned some colour to his face, almost like Hanta feared you would oppose him even still and the situation would grow for the worse. With a small sigh of relief, he finally allowed a smile to press to his lips. A smile you knew all too well and had missed for a while now.

"Thank you for understanding," Hanta exhaled, pausing as his eyes hovered onto you with an ounce of playful intent. "And I guess we could be a little bit less discreet when we go to the cinema together," You smiled faintly, finally satisfied with the decision you had come up with. Better yet, a compromise. The very thing you had wanted to start with... clearly your concluding thoughts had been premature.

"Thank you... it means a lot,"

"Yeah... I love you," Hanta spoke gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you too," You stood on your tiptoes to lightly peck his lips, Hanta humming softly in approval as he returned the gesture. After a few seconds, you pulled back though, feeling a smile on your face as you did. It was enjoyable to kiss his lips again, another thing you had missed greatly in your week-long deprivation of your boyfriend.

"So, how does some hot cocoa sound? I can imagine you were sat on the balcony for a pretty long time," You pulled away from the hug, but kept hold of Hanta's wrist as you tugged him along with you. Hanta shook a fist in grateful triumph, sighing out in bliss at the offer.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask! Hot cocoa sounds amazing," He smiled, pausing temporarily before adding on. "But are cuddles on the table too?" You glanced back at him, half expecting the request. But there was no way you were going to say no. You shook your head in amusement before answering.

"I think we're both in desperate need of cuddles, so I think so. Yes,"

"Amen to that,"

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