#i usually complain about the one therapist i had in my entire life and how she wouldn't just listen to what i was saying

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

#oh wow... #i just had an oh shit fuck moment #wow #i usually complain about the one therapist i had in my entire life and how she wouldn't just listen to what i was saying #if it didn't fit her textbook definition of whatever she was thinking at the time #and how i talked to her about my anxiety and how that made me feel and she would only focus on how i acted #so the example i gave her was the one time i went into a shop to buy something by myself #because my mom didn't want to go in for me and arguing with my mom in front of the shop in public and then inevitably have to #go in myself either way was way worse to me #because of the embarrassement of arguing in public. the fact that my mom was gonna spend the entire walk home telling me how i have to #''just suck it up and learn and just overcome my anxiety because i don't have a problem'' or whatever #and then having to go into the shop where the lady had been watching me from inside the entire time how i clearly didn't want to go in #and possibly be even more awkward with teary eyes because of the anxiety and awkwardness i already bring to the table any day... #all of those things that were going inside my head were trumped by the fact that i did go in and did buy what i needed #although my heart was coming out of my chest the entire time... all that didn't matter to my therapist because in her words: #''if you had anxiety. you simply wouldn't have gone in'' #which is ridiculous #but anyways... i just had an epiphany... that was masking wasn't it? #forcing myself to do something that brings me major discomfort to make my mother and the shop lady not judge me? #pretend i'm a normal human being just doing normal things instead of someone who's about to have a heart attack buying embroidery thread? #panicking the entire time because i wasn't prepeared and hadn't scripted the entire transaction in my head? #yet still going in and putting on my ''normal person'' mask to try to seem like i wasn't just dying seconds ago (and still was)? #isn't that literally what masking is?! #and the ''autism specialist'' ass therapist was like ''if you did it then you don't have a problem'' #when i'm literally telling her how much of a problem it actually WAS?! #you know what's the best part about all this #that when i told my mom after i left that therapist that she didn't listen to me because [insert everything above] #my mom's response was ''well sometimes therapist will say things that you don't want to hear but you have to accept them''.... #same woman who's always saying how much she hates therapists because they ''will say whatever and pretend they know shit'' #ok so it's only The Truth when I tell you it isn't...

[princedesnuees]

CALL ME MAYBE — gn!reader x jaehyun.

pairing: gn!reader x jaehyun. genre: hurt/comfort, angst, smut. summary: you work as a phone sex operator. naturally, one of your customer wants something a bit specific... warnings: phone sex. words: 1.5k

It is your duty to take care of your customer during the allotted time. This is your job as a phone sex operator, after all. The call time is determined by the amount paid. Some customers just need twenty minutes. Sometimes much more. Maybe all day. Maybe the entire night. You don't mind, you like doing this. What just was for spending time changed into a real full time job. Everybody says you're made for this. And you would be a liar if you say that you're not good at satisfying your phone correspondent.

It's late at night. You've just ended with an old man. The lonely kind, not really interesting, quite sad actually. But you had nice time. At the end, he sounded happy and thanked you before hang up. Mission accomplished.

And now, what?

You don't have time to think. The phone's ringing.

You pick up, comfortably seated in your chair. Usually, it's you who starts the conversation. And you were willing to do so, until a voice rises from the receiver.

"Hi."

As usual, it's a man. You smile against the phone. What a soft, deep voice you hear.

"Hey baby… How you doing?"

"Not really good."

"Oh… Would you like speak about it?"

Other usual part of your job: the therapist side. You are used to listening to your customers complaining about their life, what's going on, what weighs on them. And it's a side of this job you truly like. Get to know someone. Their past, their present. What they went through. Their dreams, their fears. You can imagine every details just by closing your eyes. And in all these stories, all you have to do is listen and comfort them in a very special way.

"My wife left me."

"Baby. I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I was never there for her."

"How do you feel?"

"In a shitty way."

"Need me to reassure you a little…?"

"Yeah. That's why I phoned you. They say… You're a good listener."

"And I will. Do you mind telling me your name?"

"Call me Jay."

"Jay… What a sweet name."

"I'll pay for one hour. Maybe more."

"Alright, Jay. I'm all yours. What do you need tonight?"

"Someone who can… help me to make the pain go."

"You feel really, really sad about what happened, don't you…"

"Yeah."

You listen closely, and then hear like a sob. Of course, it must be awfully difficult.

"You were together since a long time?"

"Almost five years. I've been… dumb. Y'know. Too much taken by my career. Money, fame, all that stuff. But now… It just doesn't have sense anymore. I realized it too late."

Sadness is blending to his voice.

"Baby… Everything will be okay. Don't blame yourself. You did your best." You whisper on a reassuring tone.

"I even wonder if she cheated on me. No. I know she did."

"Don't think about it. Think about yourself and your well-being. I'm here for you baby. Just ask me something that could bring you joy. Anything I can do."

"It's been a couple of weeks I didn't cum, you know. I can't anymore. That makes me sad when I try with someone else, and I don't like to do it alone. Watching porn doesn't do anything to me. I even feel disgusted."

"Okay, sweetheart. Do you want me to talk, to help you cum?"

"… Yeah. I want."

"Are you sitting comfortably?"

"I'm on the ground of my kitchen."

Oh. That's unusual.

"Everything's okay, baby?…" You want to be sure.

"Yeah. I was… cooking when I started to feel bad. Really bad. My wife used to prepare diner before I got home. It reminded me her, while she was cooking. That's stupid, I know."

"Not, it's not. Jay, don't think your feeling are stupids. They are important, and so you are."

"Maybe."

"Would you like to stay here?"

"Yeah. Don't want to go upstairs. It's okay. The tiles are warm now."

And then, you hear a soft laugh. Really, really soft. Almost inaudible. But that makes you smile.

"Fine, Jay. Let's start. Remember, this is your moment. You can ask me whatever you want or need."

"Okay."

"Relax yourself, baby… I'm here. I'm with you. Imagine me, standing by your side. You're not alone. I can hug you if you want. Do you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm here, my arms around your waist… You can put your head on my shoulder, close your eyes…" At this moment, your voice was akin to that of a mother soothing her child. A gentle, nurturing voice, one in which everyone would like to take refuge. This is the way you do. Comforting your visitor the time they come to you. "There… How do you feel, baby?"

A long silence responds. But you're not worried. Some people need this time. Time that life didn't grant them. And you were right. A few seconds later, his voice arises.

"I… feel good…"

"Can you feel my hand on your hips, right now? Can you… feel… my warmth enveloping you?"

"Hmm…"

You listen, carefully. Each sound is an important hint of your customer's mood.

"Jay… I'm sure… you have… a wonderful body… Don't you? Because I can sense it just by touching you."

"Touch me more."

"Where do you want me to touch, baby?"

"Go under my shirt."

"Alright. I'm here, right now… Do you feel it? My hand on your body… It's warm, Jay…"

"Yeah… Warm."

"Can I go on your thighs? I promise, I'm not heavy… And… this will be… more pleasant."

"Go on."

"Aah… It's been… a while since… I went over a man like you…"

"Hmm…"

You hear him moaning, proof that he begins to feel really relaxed. Perfect.

"You know… Since I am all yours… Would you like to… try something with me?"

"Yeah."

"Can we put off this belt? Let me do it for you… There…"

His breath is heavier. You don't have intention to stop.

"Hey, Jay… Don't you feel… too tight…?"

"I… I'm… I try to… caressing… myself…"

"That's good… Do it at your pace, baby, okay?… What are you thinking about…?"

"You. Your pelvis… against mine…"

"Hmm… This is exactly… what I do… Can you feel me… rubbing gently on you…?"

"Yeah. I… fucking feel it."

Your smile is wider. Maybe you've started to caress yourself, too.

"Jay… Is that a big, generous and warm cock I can feel beneath these pants…?"

"Fuck…"

"Yeah, that is. Oh my god… It's harder and harder… Hmm…"

"Touch it."

"It's been a while you didn't use your pretty cock, Jay… But don't worry because… Tonight… This will change. And I can assure you… That you're well-endowed. To be honest, I've rarely seen a beautiful cock like yours during a while."

"Shit, this is… Aaah… Take it in your hand."

"And I'm doing, baby. There… Just under your underwear… There it is… Hello, beautiful one…"

You can imagine the size wobbling in your little hand.

"Look, I can't even take it in one hand… And you're not this hard yet… Jesus…"

"P-put your goddamn…"

"Hmm ? My…"

"You're goddamn lips."

"Baby… You want me to suck your big dick?"

"Fucking do it."

"There I am… My lips all over your tip… Like this… Hmm… Your… delicious… huge… cock…"

He's moaning louder each second. This is astonishing how his voice can be this deep. You've never heard this kind of tone before, this is arousing you in your chair. Thighs closed, you're trembling like a leaf.

"Jay… I'm gonna… swallow it… entirely… Is that okay for you, baby?…"

"Don't ask: go for it. Eat it. Make it disappear inside your little mouth."

"I'm coming, baby. Let yourself go, I'm going to devour your lovely cock. My tongue wrapped around your pretty veins… Do you see me? Going up and down… Tongue lapping your dick, like a thirsty bitch… Hmm… God, you have such a wondrous taste…"

There you are. Your slow, erotic tone who made fall so many men before. It's not difficult to imagine your client masturbating himself like a damn one. You almost can hear him doing so. His wonderful cock you are sucking until the last drop.

"Fuck… Fuuuuu…. I… Aaaaah… This is… so… fucking good… Haaan…"

"Yeah baby? Do you want me to go faster? Let me do…"

"I… I gonna…"

"Your little whore is going to swallow everything until your balls are totally empty, you know that, Jay…?"

"H-… Oh my…! Hmmm… AAAAH !"

And there are the fireworks. Your man's voice explodes with magnificence. You let him enjoy this moment. His moment. A slight smile on your lips covered by his generous cum. You clean up the little mess by one movement of your tongue.

"Is this good, baby…?"

"Hell… Yeah… I… 've just… stained myself."

"You must be lovely. I'd love to see you, right now…"

"Fucking Christ. I had so much in my balls."

"Do you feel better, now?"

"Fuck yes. Much better."

"Can I lick your cum?"

"Come here, honey."

Oh yeah. You were going to find him soon as expected.

#jaehyun smut #nct smut #jaehyun x reader #nct 127 #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fic

[prismuffin]

Hello can i get a Connor (Rk800) x engineer male reader scenario, this is after the human vs Detroit war, So imagine the reader is an engineer and some engineer has to stay a life for fixing the Androids but the reader is generaly nice to Android and since connor work usually get him damage so they have met before and have good a friendship. Connor isn't the best at feeling so he always ask the reader for help. One day finally connor confess his feelings by accident because he doesnt know what he is feeling. I hope this is good enough to explain what I am going for because English is not my first language

A/n: your English is totally fine my dude I understood what you meant and I adore the idea😽 hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!!

Overheated

Connor (rk800) x male!engineer!reader

( summary: Connors still getting used to emotions, and after experiencing a strange sensation every time he sees you he decides to ask you about it )

warnings?: Adorably naïve Connor, talks of injuries but very briefly

!-!more under the cut!-!

"Connor, nice to see you again so soon." You smiled at Connor who had just entered your workshop. He returned your affectionate smile with one of his own as he closed the door. You paused what you were working on, removing your protective goggles so you can get a better look at him. "What's it gonna be this time?" You guided him over to an exam table as you talked. "Bullet removal, blue blood transfer, wound welding?" You listed off some previous procedures that you've had to do on him. Connors line of work wasn't the safest job out there and he would constantly decide to take bullets for his team knowing that they can be fixed a bit easier than a human bullet wound. You scold him for this but he says you can't complain since he's paying you to fix him which is true; honestly he comes around so often he could probably singlehandedly keep you in business.

He shook his head and you raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain why he's here. "The reason why I'm here isn't for something physical." He stated and you motioned for him to continue. He glanced away for a second and hesitated. "I- think I may have a virus of some sorts..?" He spoke slowly, like he himself wasn't fully convinced. Viruses for androids act as colds for humans, it can overheat their systems and make them, well, sick. “A virus?” You raised an eyebrow and he gave you one small nod. There was a common Virus spreading amongst the androids at this time so it wasn’t shocking news. “Have you come in contact with any androids that may have had any viruses?” He shrugged and you hummed, grabbing a clipboard. “Alright well, describe your symptoms for me so I can see what we’re dealing with.”

He fixes his posture and clears his throat before speaking again, "Well, I'm not entirely sure it's a virus." One of his hands twitched as he thought about how to word his next sentence. "I don't really have many symptoms...maybe I'm confusing it with a new feeling." He let out a chuckle and shrugged, "I'm still getting used to those." You nodded and smiled understandingly before placing your clipboard down. "Well I'm no therapist but describe it and maybe I can help you place it." You crossed your arms and he smiled, looking down. "Well, I can't really explain it. It only ever happens when I'm around you." Your eyebrows shot up, you weren't expecting that. You felt your body temperature increase as Connor continued to describe his new foreign feeling. "My systems seem to overheat and I feel..happier..? But it's a different kind of happy then what I perceive to be my normal level of happiness." You stood there silently as you took in his words- was he...confessing to you accidentally??? "My thirium pump seems to increase in speed as well and I.." he trails off, glancing at you then the floor then back at you. "I get more nervous, and.." He inhaled as you gave him a lopsided grin.

Walking closer to where he sat, you grabbed his hand and watched as he seemed to freeze for a moment. "Do you find me attractive?" He blinked for a moment, the question had obviously caught him off guard. "I...do find you aesthetically pleasing, yes." He furrowed his eyebrows and you bit back a larger smile. "Connor I think you like me." He narrowed his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing even more. You could tell you'd have to explain it further. "Like a crush." You continued, though the analogy didn't click for him like you'd hoped it would and you sighed. "Love, Connor, you're feeling romantic feelings." You watched as his eyes left yours and searched around for nothing in particular; they eventually landed back on yours and you could swear he started blushing.

"Oh."

That was the only thing that left his mouth for a while and you let the silence surround the two of you while he figured things out in his brain. He eventually squeezed your hand and smiled, "It's a nice feeling." You nodded and his eyes softened "Do you feel it around me too?" You had to take a moment to register his question. From the moment you met Connor you had found him very attractive and the way you worried for him whenever he turned up in your workshop injured even if it was minor didn't stem from nowhere. Over the time you knew Connor you'd both become great friends and you loved spending time and talking with him even if it was when you were removing a bullet from his shoulder. You truly did care for him and like him more than you ever noticed, the thought of dating him was out the picture in your mind. Android and human relationships were still so new you never considered liking Connor in that way, but you did. You looked down at your intertwined hands and smiled, "Yeah...I guess I do." You looked back up at Connor who seemed to perk up hearing that.

You both weren't completely sure where your relationship would go from here but you know you'll have each other either way, and you're fine with that.

----!----

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN so feel free to request anything! Just make sure you check out my Request Info!

Masterlist

#dbh #detroit become human #dbh x reader #detroit become human x reader #connor rk800 #rk800 x reader #male reader #x male reader #connor x male reader #connor x reader #rk800 x male reader #connor rk800 x male reader #connor rk800 x reader #dbh x male reader #detroit become human x male reader #prismuffin #dbh fanfiction #fanfiction

[steddielations]

I'm not looking to start The Discourse so if you don't feel like answering this I'd totally understand, but I'm really glad to know I'm not the only one who feels like I'm losing it when I see people complain about how supposedly Eddie focused everything. I struggle to believe how these people can be serious about this. almost every fic ever in some way involves Eddie being a bad or downright terrible bf and it's always so OOC because people like to make Steve really angsty. Or the ones that really get me are the ones where Wayne's relationship with STEVE is focused on more than Wayne and Eddie. Half the time it reads like a small but loud chunk steddie of fandom don't even really like Eddie, he's just there out of convenience. I do understand the appeal of that for people who really love Steve but like, it shouldn't come at the expense of Eddie as character. Some of these fics you could easily replace him with other characters and it'd make no difference to the fic. Like I said, totally understand if you don't feel like answering this, I genuinely don't mean to be bitchy cause I don't like yucking peoples yums, but it did feel like I was in the twilight zone for a while seeing people's complaining, so I just wanted to have a little rant 😭

I’m glad to know someone has had the same experience as me! Like I’m not trying to dissuade people from writing Steve centric stuff or even complain, but truly I don’t understand when people say steddie fics are majority Eddie centric. I filtered this down to just the steddie ao3 fics but it’s not even close

And these are just the ones that are tagged. Personally I consider a fic to be Steve centric just based on if it has majority Steve focused tags, like Steve has bad parents, Steve needs a hug, hurt Steve, stuff like that and then it doesn't have any Eddie focused tags. Which is majority of Steddie fics and again I'm not complaining, I'm just saying that's how it is. Also on tumblr, in my experience, I'd say 8 times out of 10 when I come across a steddie fic it's Steve centric. I only notice because I look for Eddie centric stuff personally because there's such a lack of it. That's also why I started to pretty much write only Eddie centric stuff too. But I'm also careful not to erase Steve's trauma or demote him to the stand in perfect boyfriend or erase Robin's role in his life and replace her with Eddie, but I can't say the same with the way majority of Steve centric fics treat Eddie's character.

I think having an issue with the way Steve and Eddie are most often characterized in Steddie fics is a different conversation. I'll be honest, most of what I come across in my opinion is the writer projecting onto Steve and then Eddie's either the perfect boyfriend who talks like a therapist and has a magical healing cock, or he's the worst person in the world just to manufacture Steve angst. I have some major gripes about fanon Steve and fanon Eddie too, I have to steer clear of a lot of fics and keep my mouth shut to avoid discourse. Not saying I have perfect characterization or anything, but I definitely go against a lot of fanon popular stuff. I understand that some people hate popular fanon Eddie (so do I usually lmao) but its clear that it's being projected onto canon Eddie too. I see a lot of Eddie hate from people that ship steddie and that's fine, I'm so used to seeing Eddie hate it doesn't even faze me anymore, but I don't understand how you fixate on a ship that you hate an entire half of.

I'm glad you brought up the Wayne thing because that bothers me so much, I've spoken to a friend who noticed this too. To be clear, I love Wayne and Steve fics, I've written Wayne and Steve fics, but there's a difference when it's a fic about Wayne and Steve developing a familial relationship and when the whole purpose of the fic is Wayne growing closer to Steve than Eddie, choosing Steve over Eddie, loving Steve more than Eddie, etc. Especially when the fic has Eddie as a neglect/abuse survivor, honestly I just think it's weird to write a story where a neglect/abuse survivor's only caretaker is choosing someone else over him, and it's supposed to be a good happy thing? Also when the writer has clear disdain toward Eddie, Idk, maybe take your Eddie-hating lens off for a second and get some perspective on what you're writing. And the crazy thing is, those types of fics are usually received really well. I don't know, it's just not for me.

Anyway, this is the most discourse-y I've ever been on my blog lmao. I'm just at the point where I don't care anymore, everyone's voicing their opinions so I'll voice mine too. Thank you for sending me this, I'm glad I'm not alone in feeling this way!!

#asks #fandom discourse

[fizzingwizard]

why is a t-shirt more expensive if it doesn't have sleeves?? lol

buying my dad a birthday present and having my annual "I don't have a family anymore" breakdown :)

I actually think it would have been easier if my parents had separated when I was a kid. As an adult I have no footing to figure out how to be their kid anymore. It feels like we lived together under one roof for decades and are now complete strangers.

First my brother. dealing with his legitimate issues, pushed us all away, and now he only talks to my mom.

My mom separated from my dad also for legitimate reasons and is now living with her boyfriend.

My dad's pushed everyone who loves him away, which he thinks is because they can't handle his political views, but actually it's because he called them all stupid and idiotic to their faces. Multiple times.

Mental illness abounds. My dad won't see a therapist, he'll only see a family friend who believes some pretty hokey stuff about the mind and 'vibrations' etc. But I look at it as at least he's talking to someone. I may not understand her beliefs, but I do know her as a kind person, and if my dad feels comfortable confiding in her then the rest isn't my business. My dad has told me he thinks he has ADHD, depression, he blames it all on his own family life growing up, he recognizes his mistakes - but also he can't stop himself calling people stupid. He really tries when he talks to me though. I do think it's dementia or undiagnosed mental illness because at this point he spouts angry politics like a tic, anything triggers it, any alternative point of view or simple fact check is an attack, and he has to work really hard to rein himself in. But again, he does try with me.

My mom seems really happy and her boyfriend seems nice. I don't dislike him at all. But I feel like I understand the step kid reservations about the "replacement dad." I never did growing up. I just chalked it up to "feeling sad" but it's more than that, it's a future you thought you'd have with one person, instead of disappearing when that person does, continuing with an entirely different person. It's not bad of course. It's mostly good. But it's beyond sad at the same time. Someone was supposed to be there who isn't, even though they're still alive. Someone else is there instead.

Brother seems to be doing much better too. I'm not sure of the details but it sounds like he either officially has some sort of autism diagnosis, or has gathered enough evidence to self-diagnose. It sounds like he's made some supportive friends at his new job and is figuring things out, so that's great.

My dad is the hardest because I don't hear much good news from hi. I don't hear bad news either. I want to hear that he isn't alone all of the time. But realistically I think he's got to have trouble making new friends and being part of a community. He never had trouble doing that before, but his habit of complaining and talking politics constantly gets in the way now. When we talk he usually seems okay, right until he starts talking about our family and how things used to be, and then he starts to cry. So I really struggle through calls with him. Gotta do one today or tomorrow because it's his birthday and I'm so upset just thinking about it.

It's now been four years since my parents separated so you'd think stuff like that would be getting easier. I don't think it is for my dad. And for me, I just keep feeling like my mom's off living her life, my brother's off living his somewhere else, and my dad's living his in another somewhere else, and there's no longer any reason for all of us to be together again. I barely know them anymore.

Ironically I was the one who left first. Not that my staying would have changed anything, though. I just avoided home during what college breaks I could because of my brother's outbursts. I tried to get away. I was lucky that I was following my dreams. Since things started falling apart, I went to college, moved to Japan, got a job, met my boyfriend, and have just been living mostly happily. Idk why all the trouble happened around me instead of to me. I am grateful for it, but it also makes me feel like even more of an outsider.

Even when I was a kid, I didn't have the complaints that my brother did about our family or school or whatever. That doesn't mean his complaints aren't valid. It's a bit complicated but there's plenty of stuff that was messed up. Some of it affected only him. But what did affect me I guess just didn't bother me in the same way. I always felt like anything I didn't like would go away some day so I didn't worry about it. That's why I describe myself as an optimist even though I don't think that's people's impression of me when they meet me haha. But I have a weird optimism that just assumes any bad situation is going to work out. Right now my big fears are mostly about my dad being alone in his old age. I'm still thinking about what I should do. I don't have any money and I don't have a house. Even my apartment is a shoe box. I also live in a different country which my dad wouldn't like (just because he's very much a creature of habit and has never enjoyed things being different - food especially). I'm not in a situation where it's easy, or even possible, to just say come live with me. I'd probably have to leave Japan and go home. Which is something I always knew was possible when my parents got old. But I figured if that happened, I would have both parents living with me, not just one.

It could be good though. I just don't know how I'd do it. If I had to move home, I have no idea what that would mean for my boyfriend, who has never expressed an interest in even visiting the US, let alone living there. Having ties in different places feels like being made to decide who you love more.

#fizz's life #personal

[karolinarodrigueswrites]

That post about constant pain/chronical illness, and realizing how normal people don't have it, is making me think more about learning how hard hot weather really is for me now these days are cold

It took 5 persistent explanations for my endocrinologist to understand I was confirming the symptoms not because I wanted meds for it, but because I live in the middle of fucking brazil, hot weather is gonna be so much of my life, I cannot get an air conditioner for my house, and even if I did, that wouldn't cover all the variables every time I step out of the air conditioned rooms

If hot weather wrecks my mental health so extremely that 3 days of cold weather flip a switch in me so drastically I am both in a better mood, and heavily distressed about what will happen when the weather warms up again....

I need to know that, my doctors need to know that

No fucking amount of mood stabilizing drugs down my throat will be enough if something entirely out of my control 24/7 is giving me meltdowns because I can't simply stand and breathe without being in a state of discomfort that makes me want to brutally carve my skin out or kill myself as to not spend years of waking time like that

My therapist and my psychiatrist cannot treat me effectively if there's a misunderstanding - my therapist and my endocrinologist did not get how I had been complaining about heat all this time until yesterday I went down in many details about how my days usually are

Even more so as the hot weather where I live doesn't need to cross 30 degrees Celsius for me to go insane

If during simply sitting in front of a fan for hours, I am still sweating non stop, that's not normal, as neither is how that state of existing shoves steroids in all my triggers

All this time the people around me who agreed when I complained of the hot weather did not know what I meant, did not experience what I was going through

I've spent months thinking I'm just that fucking useless, but no one around me was going through the hell my body puts me through when it's warm

No around me had crying sessions because they couldn't try to just apply moisturizer on their face, when as soon as they are done with a cheek, there are drops of sweat on their forehead

And that's not a rare event, I gave up on skin care in the last months because crying while dressing myself up after showering was enough

But no one, no one around me was going through that

#kr rambles #KR rants #not writing

[obsessive-ego]

What if one time while Beetlejuice is pouring his heart out to Y/N while they're asleep, they wake up, but they do it quietly enough that he doesn't notice, and keeps talking. Of course, Y/N is freaking out and doesn't know whether to tell him, and the longer they wait, the more awkward it would get if they said something now. So they just pretend to be asleep the entire time.

The next day Beetlejuice is a little confused as to why they seem to be being nicer to him than usual, not that he's complaining..

"What would I do without our little chats?" The ghoul whispers

Here he was laying next to you in bed, 4am, you were dead asleep next to him

Beetlejuice's little night time chats with you have been a habit of his for weeks, the ghoul would pour his heart out to you, telling you about his feels and his trips to the neitherworld, things he couldn't tell you to your face, the demon had a image to uphold and being true to his feelings wasn't it.

"It's the closest thing to therapy I can afford" he chuckles "even if I could afford it, undead therapists are so booked up it would be another life time before I could even get an appointment" he sighs "speaking of the undead, my ma was chewing me out again, you know how she is right, so anyway-" Beetlejuice ranted about his mother staring at the ceiling, you stir a tad in your sleep, turning away from the ghoul, which didn't stop his rant.

A few moments pass and you open your eyes, you could hear Beetlejuice babbling, you remain still trying to figure out what was going on.

"-you only hang around that breather cuz you want to trick them into marriage so you can live, can you believe she said that? I mean yes, but the point is, ma just doesn't get it, I love ya, you know that, I mean yeah I wanna marry you, but for more then a chance at life, a life with you, but also have maritals with you, love our little talks" he sighs patting your shoulder

You lay there wide eyed, facing away from the ghoul, heart hammering in your chest, he was talking to you while you slept? Pouring his heart to you, confessing things to you, how long was he doing this? Should you say something? You should say something. You clamp your eyes shut and swallow hard but before you could do anything to signal to the demon you were awake he continues.

"Living here with you has been the best time of my afterlife, I can't remember a time I was wanted for nothing, no one has ever showed me as much compassion as you have babes, I don't ever want to let this go, you're my home, I mean weird ain't it, a smelly corpse of a demon straight from hell is so stuck on a domestic life with a soft breather" he chuckles, beetlejuice shifts and presses his body against your back, now spooning you "what would I do without you" he mumbles nuzzling into you.

You couldn't say anything now, he would be so embarrassed he'd probably vanish for God knows how long, but, did Beetlejuice really think so highly of you? Did he truly value his time with you? The whole thing was so flattering and soft to hear.

In the morning Beetlejuice wakes up to an empty bed, confused he makes his way to the kitchen, and there you were making breakfast

"Morning Bee, you sleep well?" You ask

The ghoul pauses for a second, you weren't a morning person, and rarely made breakfast, but he wasn't gonna punch a gift horse in the mouth "oh yeah, what's cooking good looking" he purred making his way to your side, wrapping his hands around your waist

"Panackes" you shrug

Looking down into the pan the ghouls eyes widen, they were shaped like hearts, the tips of his hair turn a soft pink

"I was thinking" you start, taking the opportunity to gently open up to him "I just thought, since you've been living here, I just want to make you feel like you're welcomed to stay here as much as you like, and I wanted to do something nice for you, I love having you around here-" you stop when you feel beej's grip tighten on you waist, his face buried in you shoulder

"What did I do to deserve you" he mumbles, maybe making you his wife was gonna be sooner then expected

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader #rambling

[yourmidnightlover]

all my fault

Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!

Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.

CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!

IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!

———————————————————————

when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.

“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.

“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.

“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’

spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.

your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.

because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.

the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.

being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.

spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.

you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.

you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.

“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.

“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.

“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.

“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”

you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.

spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.

“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.

you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.

“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”

“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.

“y/n…”

“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”

“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”

“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

-

“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”

what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?

“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.

“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.

“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.

“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.

“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.

“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.

it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.

the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.

you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.

you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.

“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.

“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”

“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”

“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.

“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.

“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”

“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.

“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.

“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.

“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.

“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”

“i did,” you admitted.

“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”

“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.

“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.

“shut up, spencer!”

“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”

“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.

“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.

you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.

when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.

so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.

you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.

and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.

you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.

you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.

spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.

in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.

he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.

maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.

the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.

you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.

you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?

a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.

it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.

when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.

in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.

you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.

he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.

“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.

“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”

“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.

“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”

“y/n, i-“

“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.

he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.

“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.

“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.

“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.

“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”

“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.

“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.

“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”

he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.

how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.

“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”

“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.

she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.

“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.

“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.

“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”

“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.

“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”

“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”

“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”

“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.

“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”

“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”

“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”

“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.

“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.

he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.

“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.

“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.

“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”

“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”

“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”

“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”

“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”

“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.

“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.

“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”

“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.

“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”

“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”

you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.

“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.

“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.

“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”

“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”

“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”

over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.

five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.

one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.

seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.

you were pregnant.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

@spencerreid9

@spencyreidpls

@spencerreid9

@spencersmagic

@calm-and-doctor

@the-local-pendeja

@spencersrose

@spencersmagic

@shemarmooresfedora

@pastelbabygirl19

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment!

#tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage #tw abortion #tw abortion mention #tw depressive thoughts #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort

[the-lonelybarricade]

I totally stole this from one of those writing prompt blogs, but can you do Rhys and Feyre going to couples therapy together as a joke when they only just met?

Okay my love, I literally just finished writing this and haven't actually proofread it. It was meant to be silly and jokey but ended up being a bit more serious than I intended, but I'm a sucker for fake dating tropes so maybe I'll continue their story at some point. Anyway here's a modern Feyre and Rhys going to couples thereapy together (whilst not actually being a couple):

Feyre was absolutely determined to prove Nesta wrong. Usually her sister’s grating comments didn’t penetrate Feyre’s hardened demeanor at home, but something about their stint yesterday had thoroughly gotten under her skin. Nesta had a talent when it came to barbed words, so it was the casualness with which she’d said Feyre was boring and predictable that had kept the words ringing between Feyre’s ears. They lacked the usual bite and venom that was characteristic of Nesta, and somehow that made them impossibly worse.

Was Feyre a creature of habit? Sure. But she had always been content with her quiet, unassuming life. They’d grown up poor, with little luxury, and as a little girl Feyre had always believed all she’d need to be happy was paint supplies and enough time to get lost in a blank canvas. Feyre had that now, and she was happy. She spent almost every day in her studio, a paintbrush in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. And that was fine. She may not spend a lot of time with other people, but that was fine.

Routine is fine. Being focused on your career is fine. So why did the implication that her life is stagnant rile her up so much?

Feyre couldn’t articulate what, exactly, had bothered her so much, since she was perfectly happy with the current state of her life. Yet the next morning she’d woken up, vowing to take a day off and spend the whole day being entirely unpredictable.

She was going to pull a Jim Carrey in Yes Man. She was going to seize this damn day. And any voice in her mind that pleaded her to stick to her comfort zone was going to be diligently ignored.

When she set out to get her morning coffee, she ducked into the first cafe she came across without checking the reviews. And instead of ordering her usual chai latte, she asked the cashier to make her their favorite drink. She sat at a booth and sipped it experimentally. It was sweet and tasted of caramel; she decided she quite liked it. So far so good.

She sat wondering what brave venture she should do next, something that would be worthy of telling people about. Something so brash and crazy and unexpected Nesta would eat her stupid, truthful words.

“Mind if I take this seat?”

The voice was like smooth velvet. Feyre glanced up to meet a pair of eyes that were such a deep, peculiar shade of blue they almost looked violet. She was momentarily stunned speechless, which caused the impossibly handsome stranger to lift one of his perfectly groomed brows in question.

“Of course,” Feyre answered, her mouth feeling a bit dry. She quickly took a sip of her coffee to quell this strong reaction her body was having to this man.

She’d been expecting him to take the chair to sit elsewhere, but he slid into the chair at her table, directly across from her. Feyre spared a cursory glance around the cafe. Customers milled about, but there were plenty of empty seats strewn here and there. It was far from necessary to share a table with a stranger.

Her interest piqued, Feyre turned her attention back to this strange, alluring man.

“I’m Feyre,” she said, sounding much more confident than she felt. But today was about branching out of her comfort zone. Making the first move with an attractive man certainly qualified.

“Rhysand,” he answered with a charming grin, extending his hand into the space between them. Feyre accepted it with a mirrored smile, for a moment marvelling at the way his hand completely enveloped hers.

Feyre cleared her throat. “So tell me, Rhysand, what brings you to this table in particular?”

The way he wrinkled his nose was unfairly endearing. “Call me Rhys,” he said. “I only really use Rhysand in a business setting. And I chose this table in particular, because I saw a beautiful woman sitting here and was feeling especially forward.”

Feyre laughed in surprise. “Forward, indeed. Well, Rhys, I have spectacular news for you.”

“And what’s that, Feyre darling?” the suggestive tone to his voice sent shivers down her spine and instantly those warning bells in her mind were blaring. This man was too handsome and he was a complete stranger.

“I’ve decided to do something completely stupid and spontaneous today, and you’re officially invited to join me.”

Rhysand grinned, his eyes flickering with mischief at her proposal. She supposed that should be concerning, too, but she felt her pulse quicken. “And what stupid, spontaenous thing will we be doing, darling?”

Feyre leaned back, trying to regain composure by taking a too casual sip of her coffee. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m open to ideas.”

Across the cafe, a man stood up so quickly his chair tipped over with a loud thunk. Rhys and Feyre both whirled their heads at the commotion.

“This is why we need to go to therapy together!” the woman across from him screeched. “You can’t control your stupid temper!”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” he growled. “I’m not going to sit there for an hour so you can manipulate some dumb bitch into agreeing with you!”

“It’s not about sides,” she groaned. “I want to work through this with you!”

Feyre felt a tug of sympathy at the desperation in the woman’s voice. She could feel her pain and frustration second-hand, having been in similar shoes herself.

“Fuck this,” the man grumbled, storming for the door.

The woman followed after him. “Our appointment is in 10 minutes! Please, let’s just try it.”

The door swung shut behind them. Feyre watched the couple continue their walking argument down the city pavement, gesturing wildly with their hands.

Feyre sighed. “Man, that poor woman. It sounded like she really wanted to work things out.”

“That guy sounded like an absolute ass, maybe it’s for the best,” Rhys said. Then, his eyes lit up and he turned to Feyre with a slow, conspiring grin. “It does give me an idea, though.”

“What’s that?” Feyre felt a bit intimidated by the roguish expression on his face, even if it did make her feel breathless.

“Well, I do happen to know there’s a psychiatrist's office right above this cafe. If I had to guess, that’s where our friends were going to have their first session. And from the looks of it,” he nodded towards the couple, who were now striding in opposite directions through the city, faces flushed with anger, “they won’t be attending.”

“And your point is…?”

“Let’s go in their stead. Make a game of it. First person to break character loses.”

“And what does the winner get?”

“Well, if I win, then I get to take you to dinner.”

Feyre considered for a moment. Dinner with a handsome man certainly didn’t sound like losing to her. “If I win, then I get to use you as a model.”

“You’re a photographer?” His brows rose in interest and Feyre summoned all her will power not to blush. Since when was she bashful about her career?

“Painter.”

Rhysand grinned. “If you win, you can use my body anyway you wish, Feyre darling. Nude would be best.”

And that was how Feyre had ended up in Dr. Suriel’s office, Rhys by her side on the sofa. It was perhaps the most adventurous thing she’d ever agreed to.

“So, Mr and Mrs Mandray. Apologies, I didn’t get your names on the forms.”

“I’m Feyre, this is my husband Rhys,” Feyre answered, thinking it lucky they didn’t have to guess at the mysterious couple’s forenames.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Feyre and Rhys. What brings you to my office today?”

Rhys immediately slipped into his role of the concerned husband. He placed his arm around Feyre’s shoulders and tugged her close. Rhys opened his mouth, then shut it, glancing at Feyre hesitantly.

“My wife and I have been getting into a lot of… disagreement lately,” Rhys answered carefully, and already Feyre thought this was going much better than it would have if the actual Mr Mandray had turned up.

“My husband,” Feyre said flatly, channeling her inner Nesta to put venom into the word. “Is insisting on painting our house purple.”

“I see,” Dr. Suriel says, assessing the displeasure on Feyre’s face. “And I’m assuming you want to paint the house a different color.”

Feyre pressed her lips into a thin line. “See, that’s just the problem,” she said, crossing her arms. “That’s exactly the color I would want to paint our house.”

Dr. Suriel frowned. “So you do want the house to be painted purple, as does your husband. Am I understanding that correctly?”

“No,” Feyre sighed. “He wants to paint the house blue, but is insisting we paint it purple, because he knows it’s what I want. This bastard refuses to be anything but accommodating.”

“We’re going to try to refrain from name-calling in my office,” Dr Suriel said calmly. “So, Feyre, you are clearly unhappy that Rhys wants to paint the house purple. What color would you paint it?”

“Blue,” she answered. “I know it’s what he secretly wants to paint it.”

“She doesn’t see the hypocrisy in what she's saying!” Rhys complained. Then, he turned to Feyre, looking impossibly serious. “Darling, I know you want to paint the house purple, and I already told you I’m fine with it.”

Feyre groaned. “I don’t want to paint the house purple! I want to paint it blue.”

“You’re only saying that because you think I want to paint the house blue.”

“Do you?”

Rhys hesitated. “No.”

“Don’t lie in front of our therapist,” Feyre said with narrowed eyes. “We promised to tell the truth while we’re here.”

“Then you tell me the truth, Feyre. Do you genuinely want the house to be painted blue?”

Now it was Feyre’s turn to hesitate. She could see the corner of Rhysand’s mouth twitch as she did so. “No. I mean yes! I do!”

“It sounds like at the heart of this argument, you are both ultimately concerned in pleasing the other person, is that fair to say?”

Feyre and Rhys glanced at each other, then nodded in agreement.

“Do you think there’s a color you could both compromise on, so that you don’t feel as if your partner is the only one making a sacrifice in this decision?”

Feyre met Rhysand’s brilliant violet eyes. In truth, she’d blurted the color purple because she’d been thinking about the color of his eyes. She'd never seen eyes that color, and they were wonderfully vivid. Feyre was lost thinking of painting a world in a monocrhome of violet, like a city that lived within his gaze.

Feyre realized she’d been momentarily swept away, snapped out of it by the humor that washed behind those starry irises. She blinked back the haze and tried to think of an answer to the question.

“Mustard yellow?” she proposed.

Rhys pursed his lips in mock consideration. “Mustard yellow,” he agreed with an emphatic nod of approval.

Dr. Suriel blinked in surprise. “All right, well I’m pleased we could solve that issue. Is there anything else you’ve been arguing about?”

“Yeah, actually. My wife,” Rhys gave Feyre a pointed glance. Somehow, despite being strangers, hearing Rhys refer to her as his wife sent waves of pleasure jolting through her. She felt her stomach flip on itself. “Isn’t satisfied with our sex life.”

Feyre instantly flushed at such an accusation, however fabricated.

“Is this true, Feyre?” Dr. Suriel turned her eyes towards Feyre and she shifted uncomfortably at having to make up stories about her sex life with Rhys. Making Feyre imagine rolling in a bed with him was certainly his goal, and she’d lie to say it wasn’t affecting her. Rhysand looked absolutely delighted to have made her squirm. Fine. Two could play at his game.

“Y-yes, well,” Feyre stuttered, the burning in her cheeks condemning. “I keep telling Rhys that 16 orgasms in a session is excessive. He’s much too generous a lover and he never lets me give as good as I get.”

Feyre felt satisfied with the way Rhysand’s face went crimson.

Dr. Suriel’s brows rose. “This seems to be a common theme in your marriage. Rhysand, would you say that you’re often prioritising Feyre’s desires over your own?”

“I think Feyre sorely underestimates how much pleasure I take from satisfying her desires,” he answered, his eyes flicking to Feyre with enough of a sensual promise that her heartbeat turned staccato.

“Rhys, it sounds as though your generosity is part of the way you express your love, is that safe to say?” Rhys nodded. “And Feyre, it seems as if you have trouble accepting your husband's generosity, both in and outside the bedroom. Do you feel that’s a fair statement?”

“I-I suppose so.”

“Sometimes people have trouble accepting their loved one’s generosity when they feel like they aren’t giving something in exchange. It can be hard to accept that kind of love when we don’t feel like we deserve it. Do you feel like this could apply to your situation?”

Feyre blinked. This was meant to be a gag, something daring and experimental. She hadn’t expected to be psychoanalyzed by Dr. Suriel, or at least for her analysis to hit so close to home.

Rhysand shifted forward on the sofa. “Is this true, darling?” he asked, sounding concerned. He took Feyre’s hands in his own, brushing his thumb along her skin as he met her gaze. “I think you deserve the world.”

She would almost think he was being genuine if she hadn’t met him only an hour ago. Feyre marked the conviction on his face, those burning pools of earnesty in his eyes, and marveled at what an incredible actor he was.

Somehow she ended up blurting part of the truth. “My family life growing up was kind of tough and I’ve never really known what unconditional love was like. I think a part of me still believes it's something I have to earn.”

“That sounds like it must have been very hard, Feyre. But it sounds like Rhys loves you very much, and that this is an issue the two of you can overcome together. When you feel the instinct to reject his generosity, try to remember where that message is coming from. And Rhysand, try to keep in mind that this is something your wife is still working through, and be patient if she feels more comfortable giving you something in exchange. This is her way of expressing love, too. At the core of your issues is both of you thinking about the other person, try to remember this when a breakdown in communication occurs.”

Somehow they’d lost control of their therapy session and were receiving actual therapy, which wasn’t part of the plan at all. But somehow, despite not actually being married to Rhysand, what Dr. Suriel said was reassuring.

Feyre turned to Rhys and smiled. “I think I understand better, now. You’re free to give me as many orgasms as you want, honey.”

Rhys grinned fiendishly. “And I’ll let you reciprocate in whatever way you feel comfortable, darling.”

Dr. Suriel clasped her hands together in approval. “Excellent. I think so long as the two of you take measures to accurately communicate your needs, you’ll find these breakdowns will occur less frequently. And that’s it for our time today, but I am happy to have the two of you back any time.”

Feyre walked out of the session hand-in-hand with Rhys, feeling a bit dazed. It had certainly gotten more serious than she’d expected, but perhaps her judgement had been misplaced in thinking therapy could be anything other than serious, no matter how joking the complaints.

“Well, that was certainly stimulating,” Rhys quipped once they’d left the office.

“And it seems we’re at a draw, considering neither of us broke character.”

“You do play my wife convincingly well,” Rhys practically purred, “perhaps I’ll let you take up the real role, if you feel so inclined.”

Feyre laughed. “I’m expecting a few other offers to come through. Give me a few days to look over the applicants, then I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay, well how’s this. I’ll give you my number, you can wait until all those applicants come back to you, and once you’ve decided that I’m clearly the obvious choice, you can call me.”

Feyre smiled as she pulled out her phone and handed it to him to insert his number. “You do make a very convincing husband. Perhaps I can hire you for weddings and Thanksgiving dinners?”

“Real husband, fake husband, a partner to do spontaneous, outrageous things with. You call me, and I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Feyre.”

It was perhaps the strangest and most generous offer she’d ever been given. When they parted ways, Feyre thought that she’d certainly filled her quota for an interesting story to tell. And maybe, most likely, she’d be calling that number very soon.

#Feysand #prompt fill #pro Rhys #pro Feyre #fake dating kind of #Feysand fic #acotar #acotar fic #ask #not proofread sorry #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction

[attllhak]

Adoption AU - Lullaby Reacts to Time’s Batman Level Adoption Bullshit

@tortilla-of-courage I offer you mercy. Also no one mentioned wanting to be tagged on the last story on this series so it’s just you for right now I guess.

Also, this fic is called ‘Aunt Lullaby/Uncle Sheik On Time’s Sudden Acquisition Of Kids’ in my docs, but I’ve been using the ‘Batman-Level Adoption Bullshit’ for so long that this is the title now.

Also! Some of the boys have some heavy topics to their backstories (Wars comes to mind as an example), so let me know if I need to tag this with certain warnings or stuff. Nothing is actually shown, but I figured I’d just put that out there.

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

Lullaby, who was still just Zelda then, had been very excited when Time, then just Link, had called her to tell her that Malon was pregnant.

She had gotten the call first, as Link had found it important that she knew before anyone else. After everything else in his life, he said, he wanted the person who he knew would always be there for him to know first, and that he was going to be making a few other calls later that day.

Link had never had an easy life. When his father died when he was 10, he’d ended up devastated. Zelda and her Aunt Impa had found him hiding in an alley a few days after, once he’d run away from the social workers. His sister Navi had been with him, and the two were sorting through the very few bits of snack food they’d had. Link’s father had been a foster parent for a lot of strays, orphans, or abused kids needing another place to stay. Link had fallen into the orphan category, and so the social workers had planned to cycle him back into the system. He’d lost contact with his sister Saria, whom he still hadn’t found out how to make contact with again, and so all he had was Navi. Impa had taken them both in on the spot, much to the annoyance of Zelda’s father initially, but the two grew on him. Navi went missing when Link and Zelda had been 17, after an issue with a man who really had wanted to see them both dead. Link hadn’t given up hope yet, but with every passing year it looked worse and worse for her to be okay.

Zelda had known Malon from day one, and had loved Link’s wife and was so happy to see him find that bit of happiness. The one thing she knew he wanted more than anything else was to have a solid, stable family of his own.

The pregnancy was a wonderful bit of news, and she couldn’t be happier for her brother.

She had spent some time over at their house, her then-girlfriend Ruto coming as well, helping Malon with some of the housework and such since she wasn’t supposed to be doing too much of the ranch work while pregnant.

She had arrived at the hospital less than thirty minutes after she got the call that Malon was in labor, and spent the time pacing in the hall, then supporting Link when he got kicked out after panicking too much. Apparently Malon had enough of him.

She could relate.

After Link had his whole ‘we made a whole baby person’ moment where his brain short-circuited after he was handed his son, the next person who got to hold him was Zelda. A chubby baby, who slept almost the whole time. He had his mother’s nose, thank Hylia.

Zelda saw him open his eyes only once that day, and she could swear she saw in his cobalt-silver eyes that same spark in his father’s eye. Singular, since Link only had the one.

Zelda’s family had a long tradition of naming their kids after family members. Her name was her grandmother’s and her great-grandmother’s, so on so forth. Her father had been pressing to pick a family name the entire pregnancy. Her mother had kept telling him to back off a little. Fortunately, Malon’s family also had a set of passed down names, hers being one of them. So the idea of naming the child after family wasn’t a big deal for her, even if it was a different set of names.

However, there was one thing to take into account here, and that was Link’s family.

No one knew what the naming traditions in his family were, he didn’t even know his birth parent’s names. But that didn’t change the desire to find a way to work them in too.

There was only one name from Link’s family that anyone knew.

The baby was named Link.

Zelda’s father stopped complaining a week later. Her mother was very clear about it.

At Zelda and Ruto’s wedding seven years later, Link Jr. was the ring bearer.

Junior stopped being his nickname when he was thirteen.

(---)

Zelda got a call from Link Sr. about a day after it happened with a simple request.

“Who was in charge of the paperwork when your family adopted me?”

Zelda blinked once, then twice. “Come again?”

“The lawyer who arranged for my adoption, who was that?” Link asked again.

“Why?” Zelda asked, her wife leaning around the doorframe to give her a concerned look. Zelda shot her a thumbs up.

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone. “I think I’ve acquired another son,”

Zelda came over.

This new nephew of hers, apparently, was a sweet boy. A series of scars littered his entire left side, burn and explosive damage if she were to guess, and he had no idea how he got them. He had amnesia. The one thing he did know was his name.

His name was Link.

Zelda had to take a minute. She was trying very hard not to laugh. This was exactly the kind of luck her brother had.

“Zelda, stop mocking me, this wasn’t my call,” Link whined, though he’d never say it was a whine.

“Link, you have to see the humour here,” she gasped, waving at the two boys in the living room where Jr. was trying to show Scars how to use a lasso. This was Zelda’s idea, but she wasn’t taking responsibility for it.

Link just sighed heavily. “Link found him on the street. Malon looked into it and his parents died in a car crash a year ago, he has nowhere to go. We’ve agreed to let him stay, you understand that,”

Zelda nodded, sobering up some. “Yeah, I get that, kinda. The lawyer we hired was named Rauru, Mom should have his contact information still, you should call her,”

Link sighed, relieved. “Thank you,”

“Of course, just don’t make it a habit,”

(---)

The first inclination this would be a habit was a year later.

Wild, the younger of his sons, was in the same class as another boy named Link. This boy had lived with his uncle his whole life, and got the call his uncle died when at school. Sheik was about ready to punch someone for doing that to the boy, and just before christmas no less.

Wild brought him home, insisting he could stay at least for the holidays. The agreement wasn’t even a question, there was no way he was going to be forced to spend a holiday at an orphanage.

When Sheik and Ruto showed up on christmas day, not that their family cared much for christmas but they were all off anyways, the newest Link had been named Legend.

He was a little more shy than the others, understandably, and a little snappish.

Not a bad kid, just one grieving and in need of family. That was something their family had never hesitated to provide.

Sheik’s mother teaching him how to spin a butterfly knife was probably not the wisest decision, but considering Rottla heard a therapist say “Your kids are traumatized, they need to feel safe again,” and decided to sign them up for every martial arts she could, well, it should have been a sign that she wasn’t the best in that regard. Time, Link Sr., had made it very clear he felt Sheik took after her. Sheik had no idea what his brother was talking about.

Legend didn’t leave after that. One call to Rauru, and Legend was a permanent member of the family.

Sheik took great pride in being the favorite Uncle of Legend’s, after his late guardian of course. He pointedly ignored that he was the only Uncle, and only part-time.

Time could suck it.

(---)

Lullaby, since so many of her nephews’ friends were named Zelda apparently, received a call at five am.

True, she knew her brother and his wife woke up at sunrise to do yard work and such, but usually they were kind enough to let her sleep in.

Not so this morning.

“Wha?” She mumbled into the phone, trying, and failing, to not wake her wife.

“Zelda,” came Malon’s clipped tone through the receiver, “do you know about a missing person’s case for one Jerimiah Smith?”

Zelda blinked heavily, and had to convince herself not to go back to sleep. Who, why did Malon care? It was five am, the sun wasn’t even up yet.

“Why?” She asked to buy time, still working on a quarter of thought. Ruto rolled over and held her. Not helping, Ruto.

“I have a Link Smith in my barn claiming that his grandfather went missing, and he’s run away from a temporary foster home,” Malon explained, and okay that was worth waking up for.

Lullaby sat up, pushing Ruto’s arm from her waist to her lap, causing her wife to grumble, and turned on the lamp, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Okay, okay pause. Pause and back up,” she half-swallowed a yawn, squinting into her bedroom. “What is going on?”

“I got up to do some work, since Link is still asleep, and I came into the barn to find a boy asleep in the hay, here you are,” her voice dropped away from the receiver, likely talking to the boy in question, then came back. “So I found a boy in the hay, and I woke him up. He says his name is Link Smith, and he was living with his grandfather since his father was overseas in the military. His father wasn’t home enough to care for him, so his grandfather had sole custody after his mother died or something, there was a lot of tears at this part. Anyways, his grandfather went missing a week ago, and he’s been through three foster homes and none of them were very accepting of, he apparently has a ‘mental thing’ that he’s dealing with. I was wondering if you could confirm his story?”

Lullaby leaned over the bed, grumbling, and grabbed her laptop, Ruto giving up on getting her back to bed and sliding up the headboard with her to drape over her shoulders while she pulled up Firefox. “Hold on,” she told her sister in law, plugging the name into Google. Jeremiah Smith, went missing a week ago, blah blah blah, oh there we go.

Link Smith, grandson of Jerimiah Smith, left in limbo after his grandfather’s disappearance. Oh, that was interesting. According to this article, which most certainly was breaking some privacy laws and if Link Smith was staying it would be coming down, the boy had multiple personality disorder.

“Yeah, he’s telling the truth,” Lullaby said, switching the phone to her other ear so Ruto could nuzzle up better without bumping it. “Also, I found his weird ‘mental thing’. According to this article, which I’m pretty sure isn’t legal, he’s got dissociative identity disorder,”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Ruto mumbled, still mostly asleep on her shoulder.

“No, not really. He’s actually more likely to be in danger than a danger,” she twisted to kiss her wife’s head, then went back to Malon. “He probably really needs someone who’ll be supportive enough through all this, both the disappearance and his condition. DID isn’t something easy to live with, I can see him having some issues with foster parents,” Lullaby had never been so glad that she got bored one day and decided to look it up after she heard people talk about it so negatively. You never know when information like that would be useful.

“He’s fine to take in?” Malon whispered after a moment. “I just, the other boys,”

“Will need to be patient, but unless one of his alters is particularly bad for dealing with threats, perceived or otherwise, in an unkind way then he’s fine and safe to be around. I’d ask him about that, but don’t force him to admit anything that can be bad for him, but I don’t see any more risk than taking in Wild or Legend,”

Malon sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll bring him in and wake up Link, so he can call Rauru about all this while I sit with him and try and get him to relax,”

“Wonderful, I’ll call the office and see about what I can do about this article then. And for the record, if you ever call me at asscrack of dawn o’clock in the morning again, then next time we meet I’m clocking you,”

Malon had the nerve to laugh.

Four, as he’d been nicknamed by the time Lullaby and Ruto showed up to meet him, was a fascinating person. Green, the host of his system, was a brave, if occasionally airheaded, boy who wanted to try everything, and had been fascinated by his grandfather’s old-timey forge. Time had plans to make one in the yard for him. Red, the emotional and spiritual protector of the system, was empathetic and sweet and compassionate. No one had a bad word to say about Red. Vio, short for Violet, was the gatekeeper for the system and kept the four of them working on the same page. Bright and clever boy, his nose stuck in a book most of the time and willing to offer up the most random and yet useful information. Blue, the physical protector, was a little gruff and definitely someone you just got used to, but he cared deeply about his ‘brothers’ as they called each other, and the external brothers he acquired grew on him quickly enough too. It was a bit of a fight to get custody of him, but Rauru was the best there was, so it was only a week or two before the paperwork was going through for him.

Lullaby had a feeling this wasn’t the end by a long shot, and prayed that Hylia would be merciful about granting Time’s wish for a family.

She was going a little overboard.

(---)

Sheik wasn’t surprised in the least at the newest addition when he walked in the one day. No, mostly he was just confused as to why he hadn’t gotten a phone call before he got there.

Usually there was a phone call.

He was very upset by the way the boy looked, however.

This new addition, Warriors as he’d learn later that Time acquired yet another Link, was curled up in the corner of the couch with his scarf wrapped around him like a blanket, clearly trying not to be seen. Voices floated out of the kitchen, and Sheik picked up that Twilight brought him home, and was lobbying for a new brother.

Ah, that’s why there was no phone call.

Ruto went to investigate the conversation, so Sheik decided to introduce himself to his newest nephew.

Upon closer inspection, the boy looked about Twilight’s age, and had a bruise on his temple, maybe a day or two old now. Looking closer saw a few more on the left side of the boy’s face. Someone hit him, with purpose.

Sheik sat down next to him and said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually, he poked his head out of his scarf.

“Hello,” Sheik offered once it became clear he wouldn’t be saying anything.

“Hullo,” he mumbled into the fabric, glancing away and back at his feet.

“My name is Sheik,” Sheik offered lightly. “Time is my brother,”

The boy looked up, eying him. “Twilight is your nephew?”

“Yes, he is,” Sheik nodded, smiling at him. “You’re a friend of his?”

The boy shrugged. “Kinda,” a beat of silence passed, then he shifted around. “He said I’d be safe here,”

“You will be,” Sheik agreed, trying to be comforting. “I can assure you of that,”

He hummed and snuggled back into his scarf.

“May I, if this isn’t overstepping, can I ask why you need somewhere to be safe?” Sheik asked after a moment.

He tensed up, eyes darting to him and at the doorway, and then back, wide eyes a little panicked.

Sheik was just about to apologize when the boy spoke.

“I ran away from home,” he admitted, looking away. “My uh, my parents aren’t, great people. I can’t go back, so I need somewhere else to go. Twi said I could be safe here, that his parents would fight for me,”

“They will,” Sheik said with enough conviction it almost startled him. “I know my brother, and he can’t turn away from someone in need, and his wife is the most strong willed woman I’ve ever met. You won’t find another pair of people more willing to go to war for you than them.”

He blinked at Sheik, then nodded, relaxing a little. “And, if my parents come for me?”

Sheik grinned. “My family is very rich, and we have a small army of very good lawyers. You won’t be going back there, I assure you,”

He smiled, and leaned over towards Sheik a little. “I’m Link,”

Of course you are, Sheik thought. He held out an arm for ‘Link’ to lean into, not getting attached to the name since it would be changing. The boy leaned into his side easily, deflating against him with a sigh. He looked so tired.

“Link,” Sheik asked carefully, watching his words. “Can I ask about the bruises on your face?”

The boy blinked up at him, biting his lip.

“They uh, my dad did that,” he admitted in a small voice, curling into Sheik’s side, and the sheikah pulled him in close to his side, hoping to provide the comfort Link was seeking. “Right before I left. I packed up and went through the window. My twin sister is still there, and I’m a little worried about her, but I can’t go back again. I, he,” he paused, sucking in a breath. Sheik rubbed his arm and side, trying to help him calm down, ignoring the tears on his shirt.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Link finally admitted in a small, scared voice.

Sheik knew he never had very many parental instincts, and he and Ruto agreed no kids before they even got engaged, but for the first time ever Sheik felt that flare that Time and Malon described everytime something threatened their kids. It was then and there Sheik decided this boy would be part of their family, whether Time was the one who took him in or not. No kid should have to say that and mean it. No kid should be scared their parent was going to kill them.

Oh, the lawyers Sheik was planning on bringing down on whoever these assholes were would be many.

Time took the boy in, as Sheik predicted (thankfully), and sure enough the immediate support was immense. His parents never even put out a missing persons report. Sheik added child negligence to his list of growing charges to lay out.

Two months after Warriors moved in, he got a call from his sister. She got out and was safe now, and wanted to be sure he was as well. This made him very relieved. They met up once or twice, and seemed to be getting back to normal.

Two weeks later, Legend and Wild got suspended distracting Warriors’ parents so Twilight could sneak him out the back of the school. Four didn’t get suspended, but only because when Vio messed with the security cameras to cover up the escape he didn’t get caught. Time took all three out for ice-cream and junk food when he picked them up.

Lullaby saw an opportunity and took it without hesitation. Lawyers were called and organized, and without much wait there was an order for both of them to appear in court on child abuse and negligence charges. The kidnapping charge laid against them in retaliation was almost laughable.

A few weeks later, Time and Malon had full custody of Warriors pending a proper criminal trial for full punishment of his parents, at which time Linkle, Warriors’ twin sister, planned to testify as well. If they couldn’t get things settled before Warriors turned 18, then they planned to push through an adult adoption the day he did. A birthday present, Time had said. Lullaby laughed.

(---)

Sky was probably the most skittish of Time’s sons.

Lullaby wasn’t sure entirely why he was so skittish, but he was. He reminded her of a bird, or a rodent, or a cat who really, really didn’t want to interact with new people.

She had been briefed before she visited on Sky’s background. His social worker had been having trouble setting him up with a home where he’d stay for longer than a week or so, and in a last ditch effort had asked Time and Malon, with their long track record of housing troubled and unhousable youths, if they could take one more. They agreed.

Sky apparently had a friend, a bit of a troublemaker if Lullaby guessed correctly, who had gotten the two arrested. Time mentioned the event had Sky concerned about being ‘too much trouble’ and that ‘they’d get rid of him too’ or something. Time said this was ridiculous, as Sky caused him the least amount of trouble, but the boy was concerned about being thrown away again. He apparently had a few self-worth issues.

Lullaby found him on the back porch talking to the birds. Not in any human language, mind you, and Lullaby spoke many, but cooing and chirping back at them. He seemed very happy and at ease like that, singing at the birds.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked in a whisper during a pause in the conversation.

Sky jumped, eyes wide, and he squirmed a little when he saw her. “Uh, sure, I guess,”

She sat on the other end of the bench next to him, and calmly went back to watching the birds, and him interacting with them. He seemed much more at ease here than he did with people.

“Did you need something?” He asked, after a while, letting a blue jay grab a peanut from his hand.

“Not specifically,” she shook her head. “I had wanted to meet you, but nothing else,”

He blinked at her a little dumbly.

“Why would you want to meet me?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked back, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Well, I mean, I’m not exactly special. And, it’s not like I’m staying,”

“I think you’re pretty special, most people can’t get birds to land on their hands like that,” Lullaby said gently, not liking how he spoke about himself. “And why would you think you aren’t staying?”

“I never stay,” he admitted, turning his eyes back to the birds, frowning. “No one ever considers me worth the effort,”

“You are very much worth the effort,” Lullaby countered, trying her best to keep her face soft instead of pinching up. “Trust me, however much effort you are, it is nowhere near the level of your brothers. Time wouldn’t have taken you in if he didn’t want you,”

“He’s just doing Impa a favour,” he said glumly, offering up more birdseed to the birds. “I won’t be staying forever,”

“I’m sure my brother has explained why that’s bullshit,” Lullaby said bluntly.

“But, I got arrested,” he mumbled.

“So have three of your brothers,” Lullaby pointed out. “Regularly. For much worse things. I promise you, that is not an issue,”

“But,”

“If you are going to say something bad about yourself again then I’m telling you right now I’m not going to listen to it,” Lullaby cut him off. “Time has told me a lot about you, and all of it is how much he loves you,”

“Really?” Sky looked up at her.

“You cause him the least amount of headaches of all his sons,” Lullaby smiled. “He adores you,”

Sky turned away, clearly trying to think that over.

“How about you tell me more about the things you enjoy doing,” Lullaby suggested.

“Huh?” Sky asked, turning back to her.

“I’d like to get to know more about what makes my nephew happy,” she smiled.

“Why?”

“Well, I’d be a bad aunt if I didn’t, especially since you’ll be sticking around,”

Sky looked like he didn’t believe her, but told her about his woodcarving anyways.

Lullaby was happy that as time went on Sky became less skittish and self-deprecating. He was a sweet kid, and as he got more comfortable and confident more of his true colours started showing through.

She felt a bit bad for Time, though. Apparently he was as prone to chaos as his brothers, he was just more subtle about it.

Time brought it on himself though. He should have known this when he adopted six boys.

(---)

The call about the next son had Lullaby’s head hitting her kitchen table, groaning loudly even when Ruto came to check on her.

Wild found a boy in the woods and they’d decided to keep him.

This was getting to be just a bit too much.

When Sheik and Ruto got to meet the boy, they were a bit taken aback. They had expected another Wild.

What they got was a quiet boy who mostly kept to himself. He was a bit shy, but he seemed to open up a bit more around Wild and, amusingly, Legend. He was a bit jumpy, but considering they had no idea how long he was in the woods that was expected.

What was surprising them most was that he did actually have a mother, who loved him very much, but who was very sick and so wasn’t able to actually take care of him, thus the wandering in the woods. His mother had been very worried, but physically unable to look. She had asked family to check but they gave up pretty quickly.

In light of her family being horrible for taking care of her son, and not knowing if she’d survive her illness, she asked Malon and Time if they could take care of her son for her since she clearly couldn’t trust her relatives and the boy’s father had abandoned them the moment she decided to keep him.

Time and Malon had taken one look at the boy and their sons, and agreed. They worked out an arrangement to keep the boy’s mother in the loop, and then they called Rauru. After which Time called his sibling.

This boy’s name was also Link. Sheik did not feel bad about laughing. Really, his brother had the weirdest luck.

They, for some reason, decided his nickname would be Hyrule. Why they decided to name him after the country, Sheik didn’t know. Apparently it was the only nickname he liked.

He had trouble reading, but he liked learning, especially if he could use what he learned to help people.

He fit right in, which made Sheik wonder exactly when his brother was going to stop adopting. He hoped it was before the ranch house ran out of room.

(---)

Eight. He stopped at eight.

Which was still too many, in Sheik’s opinion, but whatever.

The newest hellraiser at least didn’t come from the streets like almost all of the others.

This Link (because yes, his name was Link too) had recently lost his parents and his grandmother couldn’t financially support both him and his sister. So Time and Malon agreed to take care of him for her. The rest of their sons all acquired a grandma as well, it seemed.

They nicknamed him Wind, and he immediately latched onto his older brothers and started giving his new parents headaches.

When Lullaby and Ruto showed up next, she felt no sympathy for her brother. He brought this on himself.

She was more than a little pissed off when the brat stole her wallet though. Damn thief.

Time assured her that they’d talk to him about it. Lullaby wasn’t sure that’d help.

But, she reasoned, despite the chaos, Time was happy. Practically giddy. He lit up whenever he spoke about his sons, and he clearly loved them dearly.

Hylia had granted his wish for a family. She maybe went a bit overboard, but as long as Time was happy, so was Lullaby.

(---)

She wasn’t commenting on the ninth kid. She refused.

At least his name wasn’t ‘Link’.

#linked universe #lu #lu time #lu lullaby #lu twilight #lu wild #lu legend #lu four #lu warriors #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu wind #malon #ruto #abuse mention #injury mention #ask to tag #this is basically the intro to the au i think #it introduces all the main characters and relationships and backstories #and i also got to write a bit for rottla #i'll be honest rottla has very quickly become one of my favorite characters #i love her #i'm actually very glad other people are liking this au because i love writing it #and again if anyone wants to be tagged when i post more of this au then let me know and i'll make a list #adoption au

[sdv-player-9]

Sebastian

I was going to make a post about how sad it was that everyone wants to leave Pelican Town in Stardew Valley, but then I got caught up in reading Sebastian’s dialogue on his wiki page and I just-

You know what makes me really sad? Even more than everyone wanting to leave? Sebastian.

- “If I just disappeared would it really matter?”

- “What’s the point of going outside? I’ve already seen it all.”

- “Why does everyone like Maru so much? Sure, she's smart and friendly, but don't they realize it's all just an attention-grabbing scam? Sorry...”

- “I was this close to moping in bed the entire day. Kinda wish I had, now.”

- “Hey... It's hard to think of new things to talk about, sometimes. Even after you know someone. ...Sorry.”

I think he’s depressed. Like, how do you say those quotes and mean them and not have something hurting you inside?

Also these:

- “I was thinking... people are like skipping stones. Eventually we’re going to sink.”

- “I usually stay inside, but I do go to the beach now and then. Pretty much only when it's raining, though. For some reason, staring off into the bleak horizon makes me feel... I dunno. Like it's worthwhile to keep pushing on, I guess.”

- “Nothing surprises me anymore... nothing makes me laugh. Yeah, I know... I'm being a little dramatic.”

I’m starting a petition to add a new character who’s a therapist and has a room either in the clinic or in a new building. We could do with one of those.

But then I read further into the dialogue, because it’s mentioned quite a lot that Sebastian wants to move to a big city and work there and I was wondering if that was ever addressed, or if he just kind of lives with this guilt inside him that he hasn’t done what he wanted to with his life. And I found this (dialogue is from when he and player are married):

- “The older I get, the less I'm drawn to the city. It had a certain mystique to it, once. But it turns out that was just a romantic fantasy. The city's so busy, so full of people... I don't belong there. I'm a loner.”

And it makes me kinda sad that he does abandon his dream, but then (dialogue is from when he and player are married):

- “I did some work on the laptop today. I was actually brainstorming some ideas for a game I want to make. With your farming income, I can afford to do what I want with my life. It's pretty amazing. Thank you.”

And if you read his dialogue from after the player marries him (if you do) it’s just- it’s so sweet??? And he seems so happy??? And it just???

- “Living here with you is teaching me to come out of my shell a little bit. I think it's good for me.”

- “I couldn't sleep last night so I went for a night ride on the motorcycle. I need to stay independent, even though we're married. That's just how I am. I still love you, though.

- “Hey...want some coffee? I needed some...woke up early from a nightmare and I just couldn't fall back asleep.”

- “I'll just watch you from here. I enjoy watching you.”

- “This is so different from my old life, but I'm really starting to like it. I feel like I really belong here.”

- “I often felt unappreciated at home...but here I feel like I really belong. Thanks for making me feel welcome, [Player].”

- “Hey. I just hung out around the house, today. Nothing interesting... The view from our house is perfect. You can see the sun setting over Pelican Town from the front porch.”

- “I may be a reclusive guy, but I'm always happy when you're around.”

- “Hi, [Player]. Good to see you. It's comforting when you're around.”

- “Hey. I couldn't sleep last night so I took a walk to the caves. I found this ...want it? I just have trouble sleeping sometimes, it has nothing to do with you. I love you.”

And there are just so many more and it’s beautiful. He’s my favourite character. Go read all of his dialogue, even if you aren’t gonna marry him in the game.

I don’t know where I was going with this. Sebastian makes me sad.

-10 minute timeskip-

I went to try and find an image with one of his quotes to put at the end of this post and instead came across a bunch of Reddit posts about how awful he is and honestly they have a fair point ngl

- When married to the player, he keeps his frogs inside the house even if the player asks him not to

- Doesn’t consider Abigail one of his friends, because he has a crush on her

- Literally makes an effort not to get along with Demetrius and Maru, even though he’s had at least 10 and possibly 20 years to come to terms with this

- Apparently when you’re married he also just kinda vanishes on a Friday and also complains about mess a lot

However I then read a ton more people with good fair points that go against this so

- Keeps his frogs in his office. That’s fair enough. He can have his own stuff in his office

- Doesn’t consider Abigail a friend cause he isn’t sure if she’s into him, and it’s also okay to grow away from people you once wanted to be close to

- Demetrius does blatantly prefer Maru and rarely mentions Sebastian. It’s not Sebastians job only to fix his relationship with Demetrius. Demetrius could’ve done something, and so could Robin and Maru

They didn’t say anything about the final point but that’s cause it was from a different post

I also learned that everybody loves Elliot and there’s an even split between the people who like Shane and the people who don’t

In conclusion, I have no conclusion. All of the characters are flawed, which is good, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be problematic because some of them are.

Might switch who I’m trying to marry tho lmao

I did find this funny though:

#sdv #sdv farmer #sdv sebastian #sdv demetrius #stardew valley #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley quotes #stardew valley my beloved #sebastian makes me sad

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Goodbye - Epilogue (Captain Syverson)

MASTERLIST         P1          P2          P3          P4          P5   

A/N: I happy cried writing this. I apologize for it’s delay but sincerely hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy! 

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, language, a hint of smut, more fluffy domestic goodness, reference to PTSD

***********************************

An arid summer’s eve laid upon them yet a welcoming, cool brisk dispersed through the night’s mellow sky. It was one of those magical July nights, a night that didn’t cause you to swelter miserably. At least not as fast as usual. Y/N gazed up at the array of luminescent stars glistening down on her sighing contently. She eyed the big dipper with ease thinking back to every astrological book she’d homed over the three decades.

Her hand grazed her bulging belly soaking in the last days before her son’s arrival. She leaned her head against the cool cushion contemplating the peaceful the evening. Soon her thoughts drifted to her husband, Sy putting their two miracles, Luna and Oliver to bed. Her eldest, Oliver was the definition of a blessing in disguise. Now her baby was five and the celebration of Luna’s third birthday long past. Where did the time go…every mother greatest fear.

Briefly, Y/N closed her eyes listening to the music laced in the wind. Soon they would be outnumbered, something both of them were slowly coming to terms with. Sy cherished the swell of her belly and the fullness of her breasts secretly wishing for as many kids as humanly possible. 

Y/N, on the other hand figured three was plenty but Sy was a tricky one, a handsomely tricky man who worshipped the ground she walked on. A different man from their initially rocky start. Granted, looking back on the beginning of their relationship left a small twinge in her chest, he’d tried his damndest to make it up to her every day since leaving that hospital.

Sy had gone through hell and back clawing his way from death’s vicious grip. Rehabilitation had kicked his ass but he persevered gradually gaining strength after every tedious therapy session. Needless to say, the last couple years weren’t always roses and butterflies. Oh no, there were times when Sy admitted defeat, yelled in unbridled anger, and genuinely resented the cards he’d been dealt.

But it brought them here together, in this moment, forever thankful of their ever-growing family. And for that she would be infinitely indebted for the rest of her days. Thankfully after two intensive years of non-stop motivation and assistance, the only sign of his accident was a minor limp Y/N found absolutely loveable.

Cicadas pierced the silence as lightning bugs alit to life. Sy’s heavy steps protruded along the wood stripped floors making his way towards his magnificent wife. The swivel of the sliding door popped Y/N’s serene daze. A thunderous voice echoed; “Baby?”

Y/N hummed sensing him approach from behind. His meaty hands met the crook of her neck massaging her swollen shoulders. An uncontrollable exhale escaped her.

“Hey good lookin’.”

His lips brushed against her moisturized skin grazing her collarbone before roaming towards the corner of her lip. Taking his own cue, Sy continued his trail of hot kisses down her chest wavering towards her plump breasts. She moaned in pure bliss.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to send me into labor.”

Sy stopped, a chuckle reverberating from his chest; “Ain’t that a good thing?” His Texas twang was the equivalence of freshly churned butter, a noise so familiar her heart still soared to cloud nine.

Choosing to ignore his sass, Y/N found herself staring upwards at the stars and many constellations. Sy’s large frame settled into the chair beckoning her towards the setta lounge chair. Y/N nodded unwilling to deny her handsome husband a minute longer sliding into his lap. His heat immediately emitted to her core warming every bit of exposed skin.

“I see you made it out in one piece?”

Sy’s massive arms engulfed Y/N’s changing body perching his chin atop her shoulder.

“Hardly! If I have to read Uni the Unicorn one more damn time I might have to be committed.”

Y/N jokingly slapped his shoulder; “Oh c’mon. You love seeing Luna’s beaming smile or else you wouldn’t give in to her every night.”

“Sure, she’s cute now but wait til she’s datin.”

“Nope, nope. She’s still gonna be my sweetie.”

Sy considered his wife’s words coming to a conclusion that she was shamelessly right. His girls had him tightly wound around their fingers. He wasn’t your average fool, no he was now a family man fool. If someone told him this is where his life path would’ve led him, he’d have blatantly laughed in their face but now he saw no other future than the one right in front of him. The numerous doctors and therapists saved his life but Y/N truly revived him from the perverse melancholy of PTSD.

The woman who hung the moon, balanced his universe, the woman who miraculously gave life to two healthy children, and the woman he once stupidly shoved aside. That was in the past and for the first time in his life, Sy looked forward to the future, their future.

Together they sat tangled as one listening to nature’s melody. After leaving the city, they’d purchased ten acres ready to rear their children outside of hectic city living.

“Baby, have I told you I love you today? Because if not shame on me.”

“Only bout a million times but who’s counting.”

His arms draped around her waist tenderly rubbing her jutting stomach.

“God, you are so fucking sexy like this.”

“Like what? Bloated and gassy?”

Her sarcasm was undeniable.

“No, horny and swollen with my child.”

“Man, you really know how to get my hormones raging….”

“Seriously babe, I love seeing pregnant. It’s incredibly hot. Bigger boobs, higher sex drive, these curves, I mean who would complain?”

“Ha ha. Well, that makes one of us because I feel like a whale.”

Syverson didn’t miss a beat; “But a very sexy whale.”

“Kids go down easy?”

“If by easy you mean fifteen minutes of reading with light back rubbing, and a fight over that squirrel night light, then yes, they went down easy.”

“Thank you for the peace and quiet. Sincerely.”

“Anything for you, baby.”

“Any more thought on what to name bubba here?”

Y/N caressed her belly protectively searching for catchy names.

“What about… Henry?”

Sure enough, Y/N nodded liking the ring of it; “Henry Syverson. Sounds pretty awesome if I do say so myself.”

He held her jaw lightly guiding her to face him admiring the sparkle in her eyes.

“Well cowgirl, I can’t wait to meet him.”

“I can’t believe we’re about to be outnumbered.”

Her pulse accelerated at the terrifying notion alone but Sy remained calm, cool, and collected.

“Y/N, we’ve got this. You and me, together. We’ve mastered two already, what’s one more?”

Her newfound nerves evaporated. Y/N squirmed trying to stretch her sleepy bones. A sensational moan flowed from his lips. So, Y/N repeated her previous movement wiggling her hips for full effect.

“Darlin, that feels fucking fantastic.”

“Mmm, yeah?

Taking charge Y/N kissed him sliding her tongue along his lower lip. With every passing second the intensity skyrocketed; Y/N passionately kissed him. Syverson devoured her like a man starved deepening the connection. Breathy pants circulated around the air. Before Sy could enunciate another vowel, his zipper was down and Y/N palming his hardening dick. He was damn glad he married a minx. His head back launched against the cushion at the sensation coursing through his veins. Y/N made quick work unbuttoning his pant clasp tugging the offensive material below his knees.

Sy’s fingers danced over her hips clutching at the sheer nightie. Silently taking his cue, Y/N raised to her knees giving him full access. Sy didn’t hesitate ripping the material watching her round breasts shimmer underneath the moonlight.

“God baby. You are gorgeous.”

“And to think you almost passed all this up.”

His laugh was hesitant thinking back on his former idiotic actions. Y/N allowed him a couple seconds of consolation before snapping him out of his self-hatred inner monologue. Her hand gripped his chin forcing his gaze; “Don’t do that, honey. Our past is what saved us. You are the only man for me.”  

He plunged two fingers into her soaked pussy jolting her system. Her hips moved as Y/N fucked herself atop him. Sy watched on in awe basking in marvel.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I gotta be inside you. Now.” Choking out the final word Sy knew he wouldn’t last long at this rate. He teased her clit rubbing his bulging tip teasingly along her most sensitive part. Y/N slid down his thick cock relishing in his fullness.

Every push and pull succumbed to a harder thrust. Sy held on for dear life losing himself in her sweet essence. Fireworks sparked beneath her lids as Sy pulsated within her velvety walls. Underneath the stars, two lovers made love uninterrupted for as long as the darkness lingered. Two mind- blowing orgasms later, two lovers remained intertwined and imperfectly in love.

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

“Mommy! Dada!”

Little feet pattered down the hallway nearing with every step. Y/N’s lids were sleep heavy enveloped by muscular arms.

“The rascals are awake and on the prowl.”

“Too awake. It’s Sunday! The day definition of rest.”

“Not when you have kids, hon.”

“Quick! Kiss me before the barge in.”

Sy leaned closer admiring his wife’s morning beauty sealing the deal. Milliseconds later their bedroom door burst open as two little people climbed the chest located at the foot of the bed. Grinning smiles in tow, Oliver and Luna snuggled towards their drowsy parents. Oliver landing atop Sy’s bare chest and Luna snuggled Y/N’s welcoming bosom.

“Mama! You pretty.”

Y/N grinned at her beautiful baby girl wondering just where the little baby she gave birth to went. Her heart ached wanting to memorize every last detail.

Sy’s booming bravado could awaken an entire hotel spinning her kids into endless giggles.  

“Good morning my cubs!”

“Daddy, we’re not cubs!”

“To me you are.”

Y/N shot him a glare; Sy joined in breaking into a fit of laughter; “Who’s hungry?!”

“Me!”

“Me, me, daddy!”

Jumping up and down, they were ready to greet the day bushy-eyed and energetic. Momma was in serious need of a strong cup of peppermint tea.

“But first lemme kiss baby Hen.”

Too distracted by husband caressing her loving belly, Y/N sighed at the newly created nickname.

“Hen, huh?”

His magnetic eyes travelled to hers; “You like?”

“So much. But let’s address the real elephant in the room… What’s for breakfast?”

Oliver continued jumping as Luna squirmed in Sy’s strong arms.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Y/N feigned coyly suppressing her glee; “Hmm, I’m thinkin…...WAFFLES!!”

“My favvvvorite!!”  

Shuffles of tiny feet waddled echoing down the hallway. Sy placed a loving kiss on her forehead; “Take your time sweetheart. I’ll watch the monsters.”

“You’re a godsend.”

“Only for my girl.”

Heavy footsteps followed suit. As much as Y/N treasured the last few months of pregnancy. With that being said she was more than ready to greet her bundle of joy. Out of nowhere a pain shot through her spine down to her pelvis knocking the wind from Y/N.

“Ouch...” She rubbed her stomach; “Hungry little man?”

Again, another kick radiated her body. Y/N ventured forward heading towards the loud noise coming from the kitchen.

Splash. Glancing down, Y/N noticed a puddle between her legs staring wide-eyed; “Shit, shit, shit!”

A dull ache riveted feeling overwhelming pressure on her uterus. Warm liquid dripped down her inner thighs. This could only mean one thing; show time.

“Sy!”

No response.

“Syverson! Get your cute butt up here! NOW.”

Sy magically appeared out of breath, concern written all over his face; “What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

With her contraction temporarily paused her brain was able to formulate words; “I uh, believe my water just broke.”

“Holy shit.”

“Language, damnit!”

Sy threw her a stern spirited look; “Hi, Pot. I’m Kettle.”

“Hush it and make yourself useful. Suitcase is in the hall closet by the front door. I’m gonna grab my slippers. Meet you in a jiffy.”

An arm reached for Y/N; “Ah, ah. Not so fast. I moved them two days ago. I had this weird feeling buggin me and well, ya.”

Taking a deep hearty breath, Y/N collected her impulsive thoughts; “Okay, let’s’ get the littles buckled and do this, baby.”

“One sec.”

Locked in his hug, Sy wanted to remember every detail of Y/N, just like this, in the home they built and the family they were blessed with. Words were no longer necessary. But just as quickly, another wave of contractions hit Y/N sending her hurling over.

“Okay, moment over. Let’s get the show on the road.”

And just like that the once too painful burdens Syverson lugged with him the past years vanished never questioning his luck and life again eternally grateful to the woman who simply said I do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x y/n #captain syverson x y/n #my writing #goodbye #henry cavill fluff #cpt sy #syverson #bernie sanders #netflix #captain sy #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill drabble

[judyhopps934-mt-zd]

Thoughts on Gang of Secrets

Warning: Spoilers and intense emotions. Have fun!

Chat Noit sensed that something is wrong with Ladybug. Love how he can sense that based on what she doesn't say.

She almost didn't pound it and was distracted to do so. Oh boy.

BOIIII WHY DID YOU TAKE HER TO THE MOVIES???? THIS IS NOT THE TIME!!! AND LADYBUG KNOWS THIS AS SHOWN BY HER FACIAL EXPRESSION!!! I am SCREAMING because he took her to a movie ABOUT ROMANCE!!!

The civilians do not mind that superheroes are going to the movies. That is until...

Ladybug goes into this rant about romcoms and I agree with every word she says. There is no such thing as a happy ever after and things do not go perfectly. Go off Ladybug!!! There's a reason why I hate rom coms.

The civilians being shocked/annoyed from her rant just adds to it. I am guessing because this is literally freaking Paris and considering the couples there. Has the same vibes as Grunkle Stan from Gravity Falls when he approached a couple to say marriage is terrible in the second episode.

Hurts that the rant was the reflection of Marinette's dilemma.

Chat finds out that it was about heartbreak. He finally picks up about social cues! Good work Chat! Too bad that you learned that after your breakup with Kagami.

Ah, the swimming pool. A great place to go to forget your heartbreak go for a swim.

Realized that akumas cannot attack people if they are submerged under water, which is why she goes to the pool and a theory roaming online that she goes to the pool to cry makes a lot of sense.

I know this is a kids show and that logic gets thrown out the window, but does no one in Paris find it fishy that Ladybug in her swim suit enters the Dupain-Cheng household???? I feel like no one cares.

Ladybug might say that the board of pictures with Adrien and Luka and some of her friends might not bother her, but it seems to bother her somewhat as it is a reminder of the relationships that she can't have as long as she's Ladybug. It hurts badly though.

Unpopular opinion: The Kwamis can be good at providing comfort and probably make them laugh, but they are not the best therapists. Do not blame them though.

Marinette only detransforms for Tikki's wellbeing. She is at that point where the only reason she does something is because someone else is suffering, not for herself. It hurts seeing her suffer like this.

Tikki is fine despite being in the earrings for a long time. She is more concerned about Marinette though.

Meanwhile, the girls have their suspicions about Marinette as they did not know about her breakup with Luka until he told Juleka, which started a chain that I cannot remember, but do remember that it ended with Alya.

They call Marinette, but she does not answer because what will she tell them? The not answering part is a mood, but the reason hurts.

Alix being like "why not get orange juice with her and talk about her feelings" and everyone else staring at her as if she was the one with a crazy idea. I can't! Especially when she was like "*sigh* fine"

Also, Luka is not taking the breakup well either if Juleka's photo is anything to go by.

The bracelet idea is cute. I did something similar to that Junior year.

The scene from the ad that made us mad: Marinette transforming angrily after saying how her life as Marinette is complicated and prefers to be Ladybug all the time. It hurts to see this scene actually be in the 3rd episode as the guardianship and the breakup had consumed her so quickly.

Baby girl, we love you and we know as the audience how hard your life is now. This is why we are very concerned about you challenging ShadowMoth. Concerning.

But she breathes and goes back inside. Glad that you blew off some steam, but is everyone in Paris not aware that this just happened?!?!? Hello!?!?!?! Like Plagg said: People are blind. And a good thing too.

Just as this was happening, the girls come barging in. Good that they are great friends for being concerned, but have they ever heard of knocking?

Rose finds the dollhouse. Its a nice dollhouse, but isn't that too obvious that it will attract other people's attention? Not judging though, its a nice dollhouse and shows the expansion of Marinette's craft.

Originally, I thought they were coming after Marinette because of what happened in the episode "Ladybug", but glad to know her other friends cared about her too!

Alya comes up to find Marinette in the balcony just as she detransformed. That was WAYY too close.

Obviously, this made Marinette angry. Like who wouldn't be? They did barge into her room without asking and she was already stressed out as it is. And they were also snooping through her stuff.

In the heat of anger, Marinette said that she didn't want their friendship, which shocked everyone. So they left. But they weren't mad, they were just upset.

At least no friends means reduced amount to lying??? Yeah, but we need friends in life, so it is a lose-lose case.

Sabine asks of they are okay and no one says anything. I wonder if she will ask Marinette later on.

They go to the park and as they recall their pain, ShadowMoth akumatizes them in a link because of their emotional connection to the bracelet. They didn't even have to hold hands in a circle!

Finally, a safeguard for the Miracle Box that isn't obvious and is protected by a passcode. The record sonogram (or whatever is called) that Master Fu had!

Bruh, they couldn't come up with something different for the Gang of Secrets other than their former akumatized selves???

And then the girls (now the Gang of Secrets) barge into Marinette's room (again) to get her to spill her secrets.

Trixx using their power of illusion to lead the Gang of Secrets somewhere else. And Marinette was hidden.

Lady WiFi wondering how Marinette jumped 3 stories without superpowers was just that wholesome moment like girl you don't even know.

Every kwami using their powers without a holder has their own adverse affect. For Trixx, it was making the Eifel Tower dance (or at least I think it's dancing)

Plagg is like "this isn't a me thing, this is an everyone thing, but more importantly a Trixx thing." Adrien is like "M'Lady needs me!"

Ladybug and Marinette merge into one (figuratively speaking) when she tells Chat why the Gang of Secrets was there in the first place. Poor girl, we need to give her a hug.

Ladybug confronts Lady WiFi and tries to tell her that she is trusted and about Rena Rouge. Then...

SHE BREAKS OUT OF HER SIDE OF THE AKUMATIZATION!!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! ALYA HAS BECOME THE FIRST PERSON TO BE AKUMATIZED AND BREAK OUT OF IT! AND SHE HURT SHADOWMOTH WHILE DOING SO! I'M HAPPY FOR MY GIRL.

Ladybug trusts Alya and gives her the Fox Miraculous again. Not complaining, but what about ShadowMoth knowing her secret identity??? Miracle Queen anyone??? You know, a chunk of the reason WHY MARINETTE IS SUFFERING IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!?!?

Also, teleportation of the Miraculous from the Miracle Box to Ladybug's yoyo! (Well more like a direct connection!) Cool and smart!

Rena Rouge, THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING US MARICHAT STANS AND OUT #justice for Marichat CAMPAIGN STARTED BY SOME OF MY FOLLOWERS ASKING FOR MORE MARICHAT EVEN IF IT WAS FOR 3 SECONDS!!!! (Yes I notice your comments peoples, I am generally a tired and busy person to respond, but I eventually acknowledge everything)

Can we take a moment and point out how amazing it was that Chat was fighting three (four???) akumas ON HIS OWN WHILE ON THE CAT PHONE!!! ICONIC!

IT WAS ALL SO CLOSE! SHADOWMOTH ALMOST HAD THE MIRACULOUS IF IT WEREN'T FOR PERFECT TIMING!

The moment with Alya in the alley! Friendship goals.

Marinette comes to terms that the breakup upsetted her so much and finds that love is complicated and chose friendship at the very least. Their reunion was what they all needed after what happened.

Alya stays behind to say that she knows that there is more, but will not press further. Can we get an applause for character growth?

Marinette asks her to stay longer as she wanted to tell her something.

It really was hard for her to keep lying to everyone and how she had to break up with Luka for this reason while also fearing that it would be the same with Adrien (she does not know, so she has a right to fear, also Chat Blanc!) She really needs a hug and such.

The whole concern about things changing between them is relatable to be but on a different context. It hit hard for me.

My fellow peoples: the moment that we were (sort of) waiting for ages is here:

JE SUIS LADYBUG! MARI TOLD ALYA THAT SHE'S LADYBUG!!!!

And Alya GIVES HER A HUG AS IN SHE UNDERSTOOD WHAT THIS MEANT AND THE REALIZATION OF WHAT MARINETTE WENT THROUGH!

As sad as I am that it was not Chat that she said this to first, I am glad that it was Alya. As her best friend literally hours prior to becoming Ladybug, having stuck by her side unconditionally, and having the willpower to break out of her akumatization, Alya is a perfect choice. Now I look forward to see how Alya helps Marinette deal with this burden.

Overall, this is a top tier episode, aka the best episode in the entire series in my opinion! I love how we explore Marinette's feelings regarding everything that is going on in her life and the ramifications of her being a guardian. It hurts and at the same time, it is beautifully executed! It shows the evolution of the writing and of the characters!

My arm hurt from the vaccine yesterday and these posts are usually long, so that's why it's released today rather than yesterday. Anyways, I recommend watching this episode!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ml #ml ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #mlb #934 posts #marinette dupain cheng #ml spoilers #ml season 4 spoilers #miraculous season 4 spoilers #miraculous spoilers #mlb season 4 #miraculous season 4 #ml season 4 #miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculous lb #miraculous fandom #mlb fandom #mlb 2021 #mlb spoilers #poor mari she needs a hug this season #gang of secrets spoilers #ml gang of secrets #gang of secrets #934 miraculous thoughts

[clefairymuke]

regrets | chapter nine

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairings: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 2006

When you woke up, the sky was so dim you almost would've said it was still night. The softest of light poured into the room and lit the shelves, the sheets, and the outline of Levi's face elegantly. Your vision danced around the room a bit, still dazed. Your hair surrounded you in a mess of tangles. Your eyes grew heavier the more you forced them open. Sleep still partially blinded you, leaving the room a bit fuzzy-looking -- but you could tell he was still awake. "Levi?" you croaked out softly, your voice still dressed in fatigue. "How long have I been asleep?" You tried to lift your head, but the pillow pulled it gently back down.

"Not long enough. A few hours," he replied quietly, as you noticed a teapot and cup on the table next to the both of you, still fuzzy -- maybe blue? Your eyes tried to flutter back shut, but you held them open a bit longer.

"I don't sleep much," you told him, your consciousness half gone. "I have nightmares." You let your eyes shut this time, still listening for his reply.

"You haven't seemed to have them tonight," he answered. You heard the teacup clink against the pot, then the sound of him sipping it slowly.

"No, not tonight. Not sure why." With that, you began to drift, his words molding into your dreamworld until you were entirely submerged.

---

Hange squealed with joy as you took another step, one hand holding on to Jean's shoulder and the other on Connie's. "You'll be back in training within two weeks, tops! You've healed excellently!"

You stopped for a split second, your grip tightening a bit on your friends' shoulders as you processed what she just said. "Two more weeks? I thought I just finished the two weeks. I'm supposed to be fine now." You groaned, leaning on Jean a bit.

"Two weeks to heal. We can't have you back in combat training tomorrow. That would be absurd," Hange said innocently, excitement still dripping from their voice. "But this is progress! If we keep doing this kind of thing everyday you'll be just fine. You'll be walking on your own in a week!" Connie ruffled your hair a bit, and you tried to shake it back into place.

"Can I sit down now?" you asked, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice. You used your friends for support until you could plop defeatedly into one of the chairs against the wall. The two of them sat next to you, Jean's arm propped up behind your back and Connie's behind his head. You ran one hand through your hair, smoothing it from Connie's abuse, while the other gripped the arm of the wooden chair. "Can I at least sleep in my own bed?" you requested, smiling halfheartedly at Hange.

They frowned a bit, like they felt bad. "I don't think that would be wise. Were there an accident, it would be dangerous for it to happen when no one was in the barracks. It's best if you stay there; it won't be too much longer." You let your head fall back onto Jean's arm and let out a deep sigh.

After a while longer, Jean carried you back to your infirmary room, complaining about your weight for at least eight minutes of the ten-minute walk. The sky was orange and pink as the sun began its trek downward; it was beautiful, but it reminded you of the dark and lonely night ahead. Two more weeks felt like years.

As he laid you down, you huffed. "I have one hell of a bone to pick with you, Jean Kirstein. I should have let the titan eat your scrawny ass," you told him, smacking his arm lightly. "I take care of the damsel in distress, and I get a broken leg out of it. It's fucked up."

He snorted, a grin running across his lips. "Yeah, I hear you." He rubbed the side of your shoulder gently. "You need me to stay tonight, or are you okay?"

"I'm good, Jean. Levi actually stayed with me last night," you said, yawning. You were confused when his eyebrows fell together and his mouth drew up in disgust.

"Is this an Eren situation? With Captain Levi? That's so gross. He's, like, old." You watched him hold back laughter.

You gagged jokingly, utterly confused on how he came to that conclusion. "Dude, no. What the fuck? He just helped me get to the bathroom. Don't be weird." You almost started to laugh with him. "And I don't even think he's much older than us, dumbass."

"Seriously, though, spending the night with Captain Levi? You can't expect me to believe nothing's going on there. Since when does he --"

"Since when do I what, Kirstein?" Levi's voice came from the doorway, a teacup and pot in either of his hands. "Do you always come up with such repulsive theories, or is this a joke?" With his voice unchanging, you were unsure of if he was joking or genuinely angry. When it's Levi, it's often safer to assume anger.

"I was just kidding, sir," Jean replied, small laughs still hidden behind his tongue. "But I was wondering -- since when are you infirmary security?" You chuckled under your breath, putting your arms under your head and getting comfortable. Jean's hand still rested on your shoulder.

"Since I found her alone last night on her ass in the hallway, literally dragging herself to the restroom. It was an embarrassing show." You frowned, imagining how you must've looked in front of him. Jean looked back at you mockingly, eyes wide and a smile covering his face. You groaned as you watched Jean improvise a replay of the event in his head, a chuckle bubbling up from his throat. "I carried her the rest of the way and back, and when we got here, I elected to stay with her since no one else was for her safety. It would be inconvenient for her leg to be injured again." Levi started inside, getting his tea set up on the table dividing the bed and the wooden chair. "I don't really sleep, anyway. I have nothing better to do."

"I would've stayed, if you didn't kick me out," Jean said to you, the corners of his lips pulling down minutely.

"You can't sleep in a chair every night for a month. You'll be in here with a bad back in no time," you replied. He nodded, his lips creeping back up into a grin.

"Get to sleep, okay? Lots to do tomorrow." He leaned down and kissed your forehead before turning and walking towards the door.

"Night, Jean. See you tomorrow," you called as you saw him shut the door behind him. you looked over at Levi, pouring a fresh cup of tea. "You're here early tonight." You watched him pick up the cup by the rim and swirl it around a bit before lifting it to his pursed lips.

"Moving my things from my suite last night was a pain. I preferred to just have a seat and not have to run any errands. I thought Jean wasn't your boyfriend? Your social life is a bit confusing, you know," he sipped from his cup again, holding eye contact with you and intently waiting for your answer. When you laughed, one of his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, Jean definitely isn't my boyfriend. We're just close. If you keep making assumptions like that, you'll have to run me to the bathroom so I can puke." You watched one corner of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. Was this his version of a laugh? "And it was super fucked up to use the word "repulsive," you know. I plan to tell my therapist that you impacted my self esteem." You didn't see a change in his strange little micro-smile. It felt nice to see some expression in his face.

"I guess I wouldn't use the word repulsive," he told you. "I'm trying to think of a better word -- disgusting?"

"Fuck off," you snorted, giggling.

Levi wasn't the most talkative person you knew by any means, but you managed to get a bit more conversation out of him before you drifted slowly off to sleep.

Again, you weren't met with nightmares. Nor were you the two nights that followed, as long as he sat quietly at your bedside. On the fifth night, you noticed a second teacup in his hand as he entered the room. It was a small gesture, but it made you smile. Levi had moved the table so it sat directly between the two of you. He sat across from you as he poured the tea, careful not to spill a drop. You sipped it lightly, finally having enough strength to sit straight up in your bed without any pain. The two of you chatted briefly before returning to the comfortable silence you had started to grow accustomed to. These nights with Levi were strange, of course, but they were also peaceful. Loneliness was your worst enemy, especially as you stared at the ceiling in the dark infirmary room by yourself all those nights. He, at the very least, curbed that terrible feeling.

You lifted the cup to your lips yet again and frowned as you looked down to find it empty. "I'm all out," you said, reaching for the pot. He had the same thought, and your hands brushed momentarily as your eyes met. You pulled back, somewhat quickly, and allowed him to pour you another.

"You aren't nearly as insufferable as you were a few weeks ago," he commented bluntly as he set the pot back on the table. You chuckled, growing used to his dryness, causing that small upturn of one corner of his lip to return.

"Neither are you, Levi. Still insufferable, but not nearly so," you replied, leaning forward and resting your chin on one of your hands.

"I still don't appreciate your disrespect," he said. You rolled your eyes half-heartedly.

"It would be weird to call you Captain while we're having tea. You can be casual once in a while, you know." You grinned into the teacup as you saw him raise an eyebrow. You knew it didn't warrant a reply.

Back to the silence. The two of you sat there quietly for a bit, finishing your tea. You started to begin the process of turning to lay down and get comfortable, but Levi's calm voice interrupted you. "You were half asleep the other night; I'm not sure if you remember. You told me you usually have nightmares, and you don't sleep much."

You shrugged, nodding your head. "Yeah, that's true. It's been that way for a few years now. You're right though, I don't remember." You felt a bit of blood retreat to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding you.

"You also said you didn't have them that first night, and you've slept well each night I've been here. They must not be too bad," he said, his voice almost hinting at inquisitive.

You furrowed your brow, recounting the dreams of the previous four nights. "No, no, they're usually awful. I wake up in the night pretty often, if I can get to sleep in the first place. It's strange, I haven't had any since you started sitting with me." You thought about that for a moment, then smiled. "Maybe they're afraid of humanity's strongest," you teased, a yawn erupting from your lips.

You watched his little grin again. "Perhaps they are."

You turned over and burrowed under the thin blanket that adorned you. You nuzzled your head tightly into your pillow and allowed your eyes to shut, breathing out in comfort. You opened one eye ever so slightly, seeing Levi looking at you absentmindedly. His teacup hung gracefully from his fingers. He took a sip from it before setting it down quietly, then pushed the table back into its place.

"Goodnight, Levi," you said, not expecting an answer. You shut your eye again and started to feel yourself drift. As everything faded to black, you heard him reply.

"Goodnight."

#levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot fanfiction #AoT #aot x reader #attack on titan #snk #snk x reader #slowburn #enemies to lovers

[watery-lane]

Words into Smoke

The Night You Cared Sequel.

Pairing: Modern!Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

Summary: As a part of his therapy, Ivar writes letters to unwind and keep track of his mental health progress. He writes to his mom, he misses her. He writes to Sigurd, sometimes he regrets his departure. One night, he writes about her.

Warnings: Angst

Words: 3864

A/N: (3/5/20) I had this idea in my head that I simply could not let go. 

(10/4/21) P.S: Can’t promise I’m back, but I’m definitely turning to writing as a way of winding down. I hope you guys are alright.

Part I / Part II / Epilogue

Some nights, while the city sleeps, Ivar stays awake. Like an owl looking for a prey, the Ragnarsson remains seated upright at the edge of his bed, his now heavily tattooed chest exposed to the world through the panoramic window, heaving. Beating.

Some nights were amazing. He got his drivers license, and Freydis got him an adapted Bentley as a gift. He would spend the nights driving by himself down the empty streets of Kattegat, not worrying about speeding tickets or angry neighbours. 

Not so long ago, he learned his wife was finally carrying a child, her round belly reminding him that he had a legacy to keep, now that the Lothbrok dynasty seemed to be more fragmented than ever. After spending thousands of krone on in vitro fertilisation, the universe seemed to work in his favour. Their favour. If the gods were unwilling to bless them two, science would. These were the nights that were made for celebrations, champaign showers and water for the mother to be.

Some nights were alright. Ivar would come back after a long day of meetings and getting his ass kissed, to find Freydis immersed in her little personal projects. He would tell Erik to pick up some takeaway while he washed away the power and wrapped himself in mundane clothes. He would eat in silence, elbows propped on the counter and eyes on the horizon, watching the sun kiss the skyscrapers goodbye as he mindlessly put food in his mouth. Then he would take his new baby for a ride, to the bar he now owned with his brother Hvitserk. 

Ivar would go there, check the inventory and the register, ask the employees how everything was going and what could he do for them. Sometimes he would also find Hvitserk at the bar, practicing the cocktail skills he had been mastering since he took over your share of the bar. Ivar would simply walk past, not entirely avoiding making contact with his sibling but prefering to keep a healthy distance from the person that substituted you. He started visiting the local more often after you left, feeling the responsibility to continue what you started. He found peace in the simplicity of managing a bar: at the office, he was a tyrannic boss, voice always booming through the walls, keeping both employees and investors in check. At the bar, he was just the young lovestruck Ivar he once was. He understood then, why you wished to escape from it all. You are just a memory now, but sometimes he still feels you around, checking on the girls, checking on him.

Some nights were... Painful. Therapy had a big presence in his life. He no longer needed a cane thanks to nurse Hansen, his physical therapist. But on some days, the stress and the weather would simply take a toll on his legs, forcing him to carry around that metal stick that reminded him that he was, in fact, human. 

Before you left, Freydis figured out a question that would calm Ivar down and make him focus: “What would Dr. Nielsen tell you to do?”. That was how she got him to control himself and open up the last time he was onstage, the night she met you. They were just engaged back then. Oh, how quick did time pass. Ivar no longer organised events like that. He was too consumed by his two jobs. There were nights where Freydis would be on business trips, or out hanging out with friends until the next morning, nights where absences were felt more than presences. But he was coping now. Dr. Nielsen helped the youngest Lothbrok greatly since his great breakdown. 

Ivar had thought he physically felt his heart break the night he got down the stage to find you, only to figure out you were gone after most of the guests had left the hotel ballroom. He felt compelled to call you dozens of times to ask for an explanation. After his calls went unanswered, he decided to drive around town in search of you, not knowing where to start, not knowing where to ask, anger poisoning his brain and taking over his actions. That night he stayed at Loki’s after barging in to see if you were hiding there like “the coward you were”. He hated the fact that you could make him feel that weak. It felt like he was putty and Freydis was fire, hardening him the more he was exposed to her. You were water, turning him into a pliable being, at mercy of your actions.

For five days in a row, he found himself staying at his office until late at night, observing his office telephone with attention and indecision, silently praying for you to pick up the phone, practicing the rage filled words he was about to rain down on you the moment you uttered a response. He prayed with ill intentions, but he prayed nonetheless. It was his last resort. 

The earth seemed to crack open and swallow him whole the moment he gathered all his courage and dialed your number, only to hear an automated voice telling him that the number no longer existed. He sat there, phone on his hand as a white noise took over the voice message, thinking about the different possibilities that could have happened for you to cancel your line. Maybe, he thought. Maybe I really asked for too much this time. 

“Fuck no,” Ivar reflected out loud as he tossed his phone away, “In no fucking way this is my fault.”

“Ivar?” A distant voice reverberated through the glass corridors. It sounded familiar. The youngest Ragnarsson frowned, weirded out by the fact that one of his brothers was still in the office this late.

It wasn’t just one of his brothers, but the three of them.

“Freydis called us asking where you were. You’ve been out late at night for many days in a row, she literally just confronted each one of us asking whether you were having an affair.” Hvitserk said, arms crossed as he leaned on the door frame. “That woman nearly dragged each one of us out to look for you.” Ivar pursed his lips, outraged by such accusations from his then fiancée.

“Well, tell her I’d never do such thing.” He answered, swatting his hand in annoyance. “I am surprised she came to that conclusion, knowing how busy I always am as the bloody CEO!” He exclaimed, letting the following silence fill the room as he flashed a disdainful look towards his brothers.

“Why are you here, brother?” Ubbe finally dared to ask, observing his youngest sibling sway in his chair from side to side.

Ivar looked up for a brief moment, like a puppy who lost his favourite toy, and decided to tell them the whole story. That the had the hunch you were back from a strange event where someone knocked on his penthouse door. To that, Ubbe awkwardly shifted in his place, still listening intently. Ivar explained that he sent you an invite to his inaguration gala and how he asked you to stay for his speech so you could have a dance afterwards, unaware of the utterly personal turn his speech would take just because an old man decided to drink a bit more than usual that night. How he waited for you, called you and looked for you tirelessly, frustration filling his voice as he talked about how you had been avoiding him for a week now, changing your phone number in the process.

“If she thinks she can avoid me by changing numbers she’s dead wrong. We’re business partners, for fucks sake!” He complained, registering the situation as a burden. “I’ll find her new phone sooner or later.”

Unbeknownst Ivar, tension had been gradually building up as he spoke, his three brothers standing still in their places, not knowing how to break the news. Sure they knew this day would come, but none of the three expected to be trapped with the ticking bomb. It was way too soon. Too recent. 

Hell, it was about you. It was most likely no amount of time would soften the blow.

Ubbe took a step forward, leaning on the hardwood desk. With a resigned tone, he mumbled:

“She’s gone, Ivar.” He swallowed. “(Y/n) left Kattegat.”

Already motionless before, Ivar remained still. He darted his eyes to look at his brother, confusion and fear brewing within him, fueling a fire he thought it was extinguished the day he made Sigurd leave. With trembling lips but a determined voice, he asked how did he know. How did Ubbe Ragnarsson, the brother who would stab his youngest sibling in the back at the slightest opportunity, know the whereabouts of his woman, while he sat there completely lost, disoriented.

With an attempt of a soothing voice, Ubbe confessed that months ago he offered you a job position to work on a humanitarian project he had running in Haiti. Aslaug had stated in her will that she wished to expand the non-profit organisation she created to other countries and Ubbe decided to make his deceased mother’s wish come true. He told Ivar that while you rejected the offer at first, you ended up accepting it the night of his gala. That you made him promise to make the process fast and discreet, and that, while you insisted on paying for the plane tickets, Lothbrok Inc. paid for your travel expenses and necessities. You left three days ago, unnanounced, with only Ubbe at the airport to bid you farewell.

Hvitserk, who remained silent all this time, let him know that you were no longer the owner of the bar you opened together. At that, Ivar panicked, his eyes wide open as he snapped his head towards his older brother. You simply signed a transfer contract, with Ubbe as the witness and five krone as the contingency, stating that you were returning the property to Lothbrok Inc., thus paying your debt to the family and releasing yourself from any ties to Ivar. He tried to soften the blow, letting him know that he didn’t know you gave him your share because you were leaving. He thought it was a rash decision that stemmed from seeing Ivar with a fiancée, that you’d come back and take back the business when you were ready. He promised he’d take care of the bar as well as you took care of it, that nothing would change under his management.

Ivar listened intently, motionless. His breathing was deep, yet steady. He never moved a muscle voluntarily, but his nostrils flared with every breath and his hand, hidden under the desk, shook incontrollably as he processed their words. His piercing gaze was focused on the oldest Aslaugsson, who was now relaxing and straightening his back as he regained his composure.

It felt like every action happened in slow motion, yet the blow came fast. In mere seconds, Ivar had propped himself forward from the chair, one of his hands grabbing the jacket Ubbe was wearing while the other, contracted in a fist, made contact with his right cheek. That is when Bjorn, who had been silent during the whole exchange, stepped in, grabbing the torso of his youngest brother as he struggled to keep himself standing, making sure he didn’t hurt himself.

Sometimes, Ivar still hears his own screams.

“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!” Ivar accused, eyes absent of tears but voice cracking at the end of the sentence. “SHEWAS GOING TO STAY,” He roared, fists swinging towards his brother’s face. “AND YOU FUCKING TOOK HER FROM ME!”

He lost it that night. The screams he released came from the depths of his sorrow, his eyes only registering red while all his nerves could only feel the desperation taking over his soul. Ivar kept trying to reach Ubbe, unaware of how he repeatedly banged his legs against the desk as Bjorn tried to pin him down. 

But what started as a justified outburst gradually led to nonsensical, rage-filled accusations.

“You wanted to fuck her, didn’t you? You wanted her and you couldn’t stand the fact that she chose ME!” Ivar recriminated, grabbing a sharp glass ornament and throwing it to his brother. Ubbe pursed his lips, dodging the improvised weapon. “You did this to get back at me, hmm? YOU WANT ALL I HAVE, DON’T YOU?” He seethed, eyes and mouth wide open, exposing his teeth like a menacing predator as he let out a guttural laugh.

Bjorn was having a difficult time restraining him. Years relying on his upper body strength gave Ivar the advantage of resilience amongst his biggest sibling, while Bjorn struggled to keep him in place. Ivar managed to grab the second glass ornament, throwing it as he shrieked.

“DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” his voice boomed in the room, palm pounding his chest as his free hand signaled the whole place. “YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME, I AM IVAR LOTHBROK! YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME!” Ivar kept shouting, cursing as he spat towards Ubbe.

Hvitserk stepped forward, having seen enough, ready to take on his little brother. To his surprise, Ubbe halted him, his arm creating a barrier between Hvitserk and Ivar as he observed with intent and horror etched on his face.

That night, Ivar lost the little progress he made. He broke his femur, dignity left behind as an ambulance carried him to the emergency room.

As if that wasn’t enough, he lost another family member to Lagertha that night.

With a reedy voice as he laid down in the hospital bed, he asked Ubbe one thing:

“Bring her back.” He whispered, his eyes stuck in the ceiling, pretty certain that if he laid his eyes on his brother, he would kill him. “She is working for Lothbrok Inc. now. Bring her back.” His request was met with silence. “That’s an order.” He swallowed, nostrils flaring with each ticking second.

“I’m sorry, Ivar.” Ubbe mumbled. “The Sigurðdóttir Trust is out of your reach.” He reminded him, reopening a wound that Ivar closed not so long ago. “That’s what mother wished.” Ivar snapped his head at the mention of his beloved mother. The brim of his eyes were red like his sclera, a menacing gaze stabbing his brother as Ivar grabbed his wrist.

“You have three days to gather your stuff and leave Lothbrok Inc.” Ivar seethed as he moved his face closer to his brother. “If you’re not gone after that, I will make sure you’ll leave the premises crawling like I crawled as a child.” Ivar swore, releasing his wrist as he let his head drop back to the sterile pillow.

Up to this day, Ivar still saw Ubbe’s action as a huge betrayal. He knew his older brother would return to his life as the new addition of Lagertha’s legal team, Bjorn granted his little brother this little backup plan.

Tonight, his thoughts weighted a little heavier. His eyes scanned the city before focusing on his bedroom, where he finds the clothes he wore today discarded on the leather chair. Behind him, his wife slept peacefully, her baby bumb protuding more and more each passing day. His legs were alright, but with the absence of physical pain he could sense his yearning looming over his head.

Ivar sighs and stands up silently, his bare feet and metallic support dragging on the tiles as he moved to his home office.

Dr. Nielsen taught him the importance of adapted emotional releases. She actively discouraged Ivar from indulging in his impulses and told him to write them down instead. For business meetings, Ivar was told to count until 10, 20 or even 30 if he was encountered with bad news. When it came to personal affairs, Dr. Nielsen told him to write letters addressed to the pertinent subject. Ivar could write them and discard them, write them and take them to therapy or he could write them and send them to the addressee. 

It wasn’t the most effective exercise, but it kept his flame at bay. He needed to learn to do that, now that he knew he had a little one coming soon.

Sometimes he wrote to his mother, asking her questions about ruling an empire he wished he had the answer to. Those he kept, as a tool to reflect later on when his ambition peaked. The more emotional ones he’d take to Dr. Nielsen, a proof of his progress on his journey to... normalcy. The ones he wrote to Sigurd, those he threw away. In those pages filled with guilt and rage, he found himself cornered in a bleak past that seemed to refuse to let him go.

Tonight, he thought about you.

It wasn’t like you weren’t a constant presence in his mind, like an annoying tenant in his brain that refused to leave or pay rent. Ivar just chose to remember the best parts of you, those who could be found at the bar you owned, or on his bed when Freydis left him for the night. If he kept you alive that way, he would also keep alive that part of him he thought he lost. You were inevitable, like the pain after a blow or the kiss after a reencounter.

He wishes he could blame you. For leaving, for stepping outside the gala without waiting for your dance. For silently giving away your shares to Hvitserk, who the only thing he knew about bars was how to empty the alcohol pantry. But there is a part of him that cannot physically repulse you.

Ivar sits down and turns on the desk lamp in front of him. He finds his precious pen and puts a piece of paper on the desk. Before starting, he hesitates.

Dear (Y/n),

He groans, crossing the two words with disdain.

Hello.

“Hello?” Ivar shakes his head, crossing the word again.

Hi, princess.

Ivar cringes. No.

Frustrated, he discards the paper. He had done it before. Why was it so hard to do it all over again now?

Just... Jump right in. Start from the beginning, start from the middle, start from the end if you prefer. He recalls the advice of his therapist. Sometimes, formalities are overrated. It may help when you have nothing to say, but it becomes a burden when you got too much to say. Ivar reflected. 

And so he did.

Every night I drive through the streets of Kattegat I find myself looking for you wandering around, looking for me to give you a lift, for the memory of our first reencounters were the ones that helped us find redemption.

It is weird, but I still have the need to find you even though I know you are no longer here. The idea of you lives in my head, that I am sure of. The feel of you, that is what I miss.

I guess part of me feels like I still need to apologise for something that I’ve done.

At the sight of his words written on paper, Ivar blinks. He never consciously thought much more ahead of his negations, his feelings dictating the perspectives he kept imposing to his reality.

He sacrificed so much for you. He tried to change for you. He went to therapy, he learned to walk. Ivar tried to become the right man for you, he really tried. 

He wished you were there to see it.

Ivar doesn’t really know what he did wrong. All he knows is...

And now that you’re gone for good, 

He shakes his head, crossing the last two words.

all I wish for is to be in the wrong this time.

Ivar huffs in frustration.

I wish I had been selfish, I wish I was the old Ivar. I wish I had begged you to stay, to manage this empire I never chos- by my side.

I know you would have never wanted this.

But I know you would have never said no to us.

Mindlessly, Ivar puts his pen in his mouth, a subconscious tick he developped not-so recently. Passing his hands through his hair, he sighed.

I started to smoke. He confessed. I know you never liked the smell, how it clings to my clothes, my mouth, how it lingered around the house when my brothers decided to have one one in their rooms. Ivar snorts at the memory. Not that you’re here to tell me off. 

Freydis has been buying candles, they’re all around the house now. The smell of the cigarettes blends with the essences and I technically get to have fire dispensers in every single room.

“Maybe I’m waiting for you to magically show up and tell me to fuck off.” He whispers.

Suddenly, Ivar shakes his head, as if the physical gesture cleared his mind.

I guess I’ll have to stop soon, I have a baby on the way. He releases an airy laugh as he re-reads what he just wrote. Who would have thought, (Y/n)? A baby. Me. Your Ivar.

The young Ragnarsson lets out a tired sigh, strenghening his grip on the metalling pen as he mindlessly tapped on the crystal desk. With resigned resolution, he decides to write his last lines, telling himself that he is finally starting to accept reality.

I know you’re not going to come back. Not to the place we grew up at, at least.

If you ever do, I just want to let you know, as sappy as it may sound, that my heart will always be open for you, even when my arms are not.

I miss you.

I miss us.

Take care,

Ivar.

Dropping the pen, Ivar stares at his letter. His hands blindly search for an envelope, a frown etched on his face until his fingertips brush against the soft surface of the letter. You don’t know, but he found your new address. He searched around Ubbe’s old files.

With a careful manner, Ivar writes down your address on the envelope. 

He stands up, walks to his living room and grabs a jacket as he makes his way to the exit.

All of the sudden he stops right on his tracks, his free hand almost reaching to the door handle. Freydis seemed to have forgotten to put out a lone candle, a tiny fragrance dispenser resting on the entrance drawer.

Ivar may not be aware of a lot of things in life, but one thing he was certain of: smoke traveled faster than mail.

His hand was trembling slightly, but it managed to follow his instructions. With a swift move, Ivar positioned the ephemeral piece of paper on the fire, watching intently how the flames consumed his words and took them to you. Discreetly, he threw the burning letter in the empty bin, the lid cutting short the trail of smoke escaping from the container.

He makes sure ashes are all what it remains from his indecent confession and makes his way back to the bedroom. Slowly but steadily, Ivar returns to bed, nesting himself between the sheets before holding his beloved wife in his embrace.

Tonight, he was human. Tomorrow, he’ll have to be a God.

The end.

Taglist:

Note: This is the old taglist I have noted from my past Ivar ficts. Please let me know if you want to be removed or added by sending an ask here. 

@aesstheticallypleasing @captstefanbrandt @unicornbaby741 @fuckthatfeeling @huffelpuffers @yannii04  @collecting-stories @timber3 @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @vampsclassiffied @lenafarn @yourpurplequeen​@youbloodymadgenius​ @lettersofwrittencollective​ 

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar/reader #ivar the boneless/reader #ivar ragnarsson/reader #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar lothbrok imagine #ivar lothbrok/reader #Ivar One shot #ivar the boneless one shot #ivar lothbrok one shot #ivar ragnarsson one shot #ivar ragnarsson imagine

[miraculouslycool]

across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise

Summary: Once Hawkmoth is defeated, Ladybug rushes back to find her partner, to confess her love for him once and for all now that nothing was standing in their way. However, Chat Noir, one of the two halves of Paris' superhero team had vanished into thin air, nowhere to be found despite the sleepless nights of his lady combing an entire city to find him.Two months later, Ladybug meets Adrien in front of his mother's grave for the first time, and  apologizes to him for ruining his life at the expense of her duty to Paris. 

Note:  this is an AU taking place after Hawkmoth was defeated where Adrien was homeschooled and therefore never met Marinette or Nino or any of his classmates, but was Chat Noir and only knew Ladybug as her superhero self.

Read in AO3: 

Chapter 1:

Growing up, Adrien Agreste had gotten accustomed to silence. The silence in his lonely bedroom; the quiet, stern face Nathalie would put on while reviewing his work, the silence on his part that would follow a direct order he would inevitably obey.

The glare on his father wore when he slipped up in his fencing classes, or when he dared to ask what actually became of his mother spoke a lot more eloquently than any of his curt orders ever could.

And then one day, his life was surrounded by noise. One day, in return for his first and last attempt at going to public school, a chaotic kwami named Plagg flew out of a ring on his table, and his life had never been the same since. Plagg was the complete antithesis of his controlled life. He was chaotic, marked his territory wherever he went with cheese, and yowled and grumbled for it 10 times a day, but Adrien had never been happier. He had been given a responsibility to protect his city from a maniac who sent monsters every day to destroy it and to get his ring, and though he took it very very seriously, Plagg wasn’t just his friend, he was also his gateway to the outside world, and to Ladybug. In his head, Paris was a priority, but in his heart...Ladybug was.

Who he had desperately loved for the past 5 years.

Who he hadn’t really seen or talked to for the past 2 months.

Turns out finding that he lived with the maniac sending monsters every week to destroy him and his partner can change everything.

“Are we there yet?” Plagg bemoaned in his coat pocket. “How far away is it? You shouldn't let your bodyguard take the car with him.”

Despite his gloomy mood, Adrien smiled to himself. “You know I like to walk. And besides, I let you eat three wheels of cheese this morning, now that we’re on our own you can’t be eating every single minute like you used to.”

Plagg let out a grumpy snort, but didn’t say much after that.

Adrien gripped the white roses in his hand as he greeted the older security guard in the graveyard’s entrance, who tipped his hat and gave him a sympathetic smile in return.

Sympathy. That was all people seemed to spare for him these days.

Not that he was complaining, sympathy was what had gotten his Aunt Amelie to take over the Gabriel brand from London, and not leave several people’s livelihoods under his responsibility. Sympathy was when his cousin, who he generally knew to be someone who kept to himself, gave him a rare hug.

Sympathy was what he got when an entire city looked at him and saw a victim, and not a perpetrator in association with his father and Nathalie. Sympathy was what Officer Roger offered in the form of a cup of tea when he stormed out of his father’s prison that day.

Companionship was far and in between. Chloe visited him every week, left him with several applications for universities and a demand to look into them at least. Plagg was always there, no matter what, through the sleepless nights and lonely meals.

But they weren’t her.

He stopped when he saw his mother’s gravestone, the usual lump in his throat thickening. He had no one to blame but himself. Chat Noir was the one who walked away after seeing Gabriel Agreste carted away to prison by the authorities. Chat Noir was the one who ghosted Ladybug. And Chat Noir was the one who read Ladyblog updates about Ladybug’s solo, yet superficially useless patrols every single day and did nothing to fix it.

He had no right to complain about missing Ladybug when that was his doing.

Not that she’d be better off with him around.

“Hey again, mom.” Adrien managed to say as he placed the bouquet on his mother’s grave. “I-I know I said I wouldn’t be able to visit this week.” he stuttered stupidly, like a block of stone could resent him for interloping. “But yeah, I didn’t have much to do today so….” he trailed off, squatting in front of the gravestone. “Chloe dropped off a therapist’s number.” he managed to chuckle. “Pretty rich of her, don’t you think? She hates the very idea of therapy and doesn’t want to admit that she needs it too. She’s the most caring hypocrite ever.”

He couldn’t really find anything else to say. Which was even dumber, it wasn’t like there was anyone here who would get up and say that he was wasting away his life instead of getting it together.

He sat down on the grass, and twiddled with his thumbs for a while. Plagg, for his benefit, stayed hidden in his coat, letting out soft purrs every once in a while. He didn’t know what was worse: slowly coming to terms with the fact that his mother was dead, then finding out that she was in a coma and losing her all over again, or never really being able to understand why she had died, because his father was still being an asshole and refusing to answer him.

“You wouldn’t understand, Adrien.”

“If you didn’t understand why I became Hawkmoth, you’ll never be able to understand why your mother became sick.”

He realised then and there that his father would never know that he had spent the better part of his teenage years fighting against him. He didn’t deserve to know. Adrien didn’t want him to know, not someone as stubborn and…evil like him. He had practiced saying that word to describe his father after Plagg suggested it. It was like a bandaid for his bullet wounds for a while.

He started a little when he heard a familiar ‘whip’ behind him.

He’d know that sound anywhere. It was Ladybug’s yo-yo.

It couldn’t possibly be. He was just missing her so much it was starting to get to his head. Yeah. That was a reasonable explanation.

“H-hello.”

Adrien yelped as he stood up and spun around.

It was her.

Ladybug, his partner, his other half, was standing there, her hands raised up in peace.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you!” She stammered.

“It’s okay.” Adrien managed to squeak out. This was the first time he was seeing her in 8 weeks.

His heart thumped heavily as he got ready to fold into himself in guilt at leaving her high and dry. Imagine his surprise when he found out that she was doing the same.

“I can leave if you want me to.” She said in a small voice, and that reminded him that he wasn’t suited up as Chat Noir at the moment. “I don’t want to impose, I didn’t realise you were in the middle of-” she gulped audibly, then bowed and took out her yoyo. “Never mind, please forgive me, I’ll get going now-”

“Wait!” Adrien cut her off before she left and deprived him of his chance to see her again.

Ladybug stiffened and did as he said. His tongue felt dry as he gave the love of his life a once over. The voice that came out of her mouth was indeed hers, but it certainly didn’t sound anything like her. He had heard her loudly denounce his jokes and his attempts at flirting, he had heard her talk gently and kindly to confused akuma victims, he had seen her doubt herself and worry if they were going to make it. This was none of those instances.

“May I ask what you are doing here?” He remembered to sound polite somehow. He was Adrien Agreste now, the son of her worst enemy, not her partner Chat Noir, who had abandoned her.

He remembered with a painful pang how he used to tease her about her height, but she couldn’t have looked any smaller than she did then. Her eyes held fear, like she was expecting him to lash out at her.

“I...I was just in the neighbourhood.” she said. “And I saw you here, and I was hoping to talk to you- have been hoping to talk to you for a while now - not that I was stalking you!”

Something warm in Adrien’s chest bloomed, but it wasn’t enough to make him crack a smile. “No, it’s alright. I understand what you meant. What can I do for you, Ladybug?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Was she going to ask him for an update on the status of his father? His heart sank. Ladybug was never a malicious person, but he supposed she was practical enough to do this.

“Do you want to know about any suspicious activity from my father?”

Ladybug’s eyes went round as saucers. “No! No, not at all! I didn’t- I would never- I mean, I wanted to- I came here to apologize?” she finished off awkwardly.

“Apologize?” Adrien echoed.

She nodded mutely. “I know that this will never make up for what happened, but -” she fisted her palms and exhaled. “I am so sorry Adrien. What happened to you, what he did to you - I can’t imagine what it is like to be in your situation right now and I have been kicking myself every day for being the one to put you in this position. I wanted to come and see you at your mother’s funeral, have been wanting to do it for a while actually but...with everything that was going on I didn’t think you’d really want to see the girl who put your father behind bars right?” she awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of her neck.

Adrien blinked in confusion.

She was blaming herself for defeating Hawkmoth?

Why should she?

‘A-anyway! I just wanted to tell you that, and if you need any help with anything you need, please, just give the Ladyblog a buzz and I’ll be right there! If you want to. No pressure. If you want me to steer clear of you I can understand that too. The last thing I want to do is offend you-”

“Ladybug.” he interrupted her gently. “It’s okay.”

She blinked right back at him.

“I do not blame you for that. At all.” He crossed his arms as he gave her a reassuring smile. It was very much like her to go out and take responsibility if she felt like she did something wrong. Doesn’t mean he’d actually let her do it. “My father...he was a terrible man. He put several people’s lives in danger and kept on doing it for years, and you are the reason this city isn’t burning to the ground right now. You should be really proud.” he said sincerely. “Paris owes everything to you. You don’t have to feel bad for doing the right thing.”

Ladybug’s shoulders slumped, even though her expression looked less pained now. “You can still be angry with me, you know.”

“I’m not.” he insisted. “Believe me, I’m not. Thank you for coming here to talk to me though.” he twisted his ring nervously. “I greatly appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Ladybug nodded, giving him a small smile. “Will you let me know if you need anything? I’d be happy to help.”

‘What if I told you that I needed you?’ he thought helplessly.

Adrien nodded, without saying anything.

“Have a good day, Adrien.” Ladybug said with a shy wave, before pulling out her yo yo and swinging away.

Adrien walked up to the nearest bench and collapsed into a heap.

“Sooooooo.” Plagg popped out of his collar. “When are you going to tell her?”

“Shut up.”

#my fics #ladrien #ladybug x adrien #angst #hurt/comfort #post hawkmoth