#thinking about last night how he made me cry over a piece of recycling

[simplysummers]

Already thinking about not having my older brother at my goodbye dinner

#thinking about last night how he made me cry over a piece of recycling #and how he outed me to my little brother with zero shame #and threaten to bash my head into the wall to his friend with me in earshot #and purposefully spilled other secrets to my little brother knowing full well my little brother idolises him and would ask how high #if he said jump #and how he’s insulting me because my mom is stressed about my university situation when he’s the whole reason she has to take sleep meds #because she’s up so late worrying about him and his blatant drug addiction #and he can talk to me normally. forgetting we had a huge fight at the beginning of the week. but when I try to he starts screaming at me #and yeah I’m no Angel and I said things too but I said things in retaliation #not just to instigate #oh and did I mention this was all this week #and yes this is the same older brother I used to be super close #with #it’s fun how people you’ve known your whole life. literally. can still horrifically surprise you

[mapleashes]

A Better Verison of Me

(Dark fanfic!!!)

(Do not read this fanfic if you’re uncomfortable with mentions of suicide!!!)

Is this how it ends?

Moxy had just ran back to Uglyville after being told by Mayor Ox himself the truth about UglyDolls. She was crying and sobbing uncontrollably, she had never felt such emotion before. Even being a cheerful doll, you can still have your own moments in life, and this is what Moxy is experiencing.

Moxy heads back home to write an article that read:

“Uglyville: A TOWN OF REJECTS.”

As usual, she hands the papers out to dolls to break the news. The uglies are left in complete shock and devastation. This leads to the town becoming depressed, and quieter than ever. Moxy felt so bad for the town, but she had to tell them. Ox just HAD to tell them. Moxy was gonna figure it out the terrible truth anyway.

Finally, Moxy is done with the delivery of the papers quite quickly, since the terrible truth spread fast among the dolls. It was just… Unbelievable. She’s in her doorway to her bedroom, looking at the poor happy town that’s now a place filled with heartbroken uglies. She lets out a quiet sob.

“Sorry Uglyville…”

She shuts her bedroom door, and banged her head against it feeling drained of energy and emotion. She drags herself to her bed and crawls ontop of it. Moxy’s eyes water more at her sketchbook beside her. Moxy attempts to wipe away her tears, and grabs the soft covered sketchbook and flips to her cute drawings she made of her own child in her head. She always wondered what her child would look like.

Small, tall, brunette, blonde and perfec—

“UGH!!!”

Moxy lets out a loud groan, letting her own thoughts take over and rip the drawing apart in pieces. She takes one last good look at the mess she had made, then lets out another sob falling on her side to sleep. The event that happened replayed in her head, along with words from Lou and Ox.

“Do you honestly think a little band of sock puppets stand a chance here?”

Another one…

“All I wanted was to protect you…”

Another one…

“Pretty makes perfect.”

More and more of those thoughts come up. Moxy couldn’t sleep that night.

It was now a gloomy morning, everyone still in the event that happened yesterday evening. Including Peggy, he couldn’t bring himself to wake up the uglies, even Moxy… Moxy was still awake, failing to fall asleep all morning. She couldn’t get Lou’s hurtful words out of her head. He emotionally damaged her, causing her to break whole. Her dreams didn’t come true, however she was still kinda happy that she discovered the Big World is real.

After a few years of dreaming and singing about a child finding her, has been thrown all away. Just like that. Moxy was now suddenly getting these new thoughts… Thoughts she had never had before. They were… Gruesome, but she’s not hesitant about them at all. She doesn’t mind them either. Why? The town folks thought she didn’t like being upset? That’s her weakness, right?

Moxy’s eyes fluttered open to a dark, grey room. She peeks out of her window.

“Still raining…”

She murmured. Few drops of rain hit her window sill, creating a satisfying sound. Moxy notices her sketchbook again and groans.

“I can’t do this anymore…”

Moxy lays back down, but those thoughts just won’t go away. She springs out of her bed and drags herself to her goofy funhouse mirror. Moxy takes sometime to look at her own reflection, drowning in all those terrible thoughts. And those thoughts, were about suicide.

Her body shape, her teeth, EVERYTHING about her imperfections are just- a bother to her now. She desperately wanted to die. She wanted to recycle herself, to become PERFECT and hopefully forget about her past life, about being an ugly. Moxy lifts up her fist, wanting to destroy her own imperfect reflection. But… She couldn’t.

“Don’t hold back now you reject.”

Moxy tears up once more and gives her imperfect reflection a good strong blow. A crack, then a loud sound of shattering glass. She holds her own fist, staring at the mess she made yet again. Moxy lets out a rough exhale and turns to her bedroom door to leave.

She has to leave. She’s gotta get out of this hell hole of a place.

|Timeskip|

Moxy somehow got her way up the cliff without slipping, due to the pouring rain. She was now finding a tunnel to the recycling, where ever it is. Moxy held up a softly luminated flashlight that she owned. She never used it in a while, so thank god that the battery hasn’t died— Fuck, never mind. The flashlight flickers off and on before it stops working. Moxy tries shaking it frustratingly, and lets out a groan.

“I’m so stupid! I should’ve just replaced the damn batteries before I—“

Moxy stops in her tracks. She notices a faint glow of light on her right. Moxy lets out quiet breaths that echoed in the pipe, and begins walking towards the light without hesitation. This HAS to be the way out. It has to.

…It is.

Moxy runs over to the bright light and sees the recycling. Pieces of wooden boards had been broken off the trail to the recycling were everywhere.

“PLEASE! I JUST WANNA—“

She stops. There, a machine that resembled a scary monster that has razor sharp teeth, made to rip objects apart. Like Moxy…

“What…? What is that…?”

Of course, her curiosity gets the best of her. She gets closer and looks down at the conveyor belt. Scraps of fabric and some new rejects laid everywhere on the belt, waiting for their demise, like Moxy… Oh, right…

Moxy’s sad frown now slowly crept into a creepy smile. She drops the flashlight on her side and jumps down onto the conveyor belt, landing down on some stuffing. It was disturbing to look at this. But Moxy didn’t mind. She sees herself as those pieces of ripped up fabric and stuffing. She lets out a soft chuckle.

“There’s a child for every doll…”

Moxy sang.

“…But I guess it’s not quite true…”

A loud alarm begins to sound, along with whirring machinery. The conveyer belt begins quickly moving, and Moxy slowly walks towards it. She was happy with this ending, wanting to become perfect. Getting rid of the annoying presence of imperfections. Moxy accepts her death, allowing the machine to consume her. Slow and painful, just the way Moxy liked it.

Screams of unbearable pain escape from her for a few seconds before the sound dies away from her getting shredded into thousands of tiny pieces, waiting to be reused for a better version of her. A perfect version.

(I hope you enjoyed this! Sorry if it’s terrible :((

#fanfic #dark fanfiction #angst fanfic #angst #uglydolls #uglydolls moxy #depressing shit #uglydolls movie #fanart #artwork #art #digital fanart #digital art

[chainofclovers]

(Obviously There are More) Ted Lasso 2x12 thoughts

Posting meta in the middle of the night = recipe for waking up with more show thoughts on the brain!

I’m very into Ted's first scene. He plops that single massive piece of cereal into his bowl like it’s nothing. He just lives here now. And then the messages from Sharon, Rebecca, and Michelle are so incredibly telling. Both Sharon and Rebecca recycle a line they’ve already used in a meaningful moment with Ted to ground him in a memory and to acknowledge that anger is a valid part of this, followed by a genuine offer to talk. Sharon reminds him that the truth is liberating but that it will piss him off, and while she’s not going overboard trying to contact him or assure herself that he’s okay, she establishes that she’s comfortable with him contacting her if he needs support. And then Rebecca says “Fuck the haters,” reminding Ted of the tabloid she burned when she participated in the team sacrifice ritual. She’s been through this kind of thing with the press, and it’s angering, and she’s here for him. Michelle, though. Michelle wants to acknowledge that she’s seen and check that he’s okay, and when he immediately reaches out by deflecting with a joke (something we can imagine happening hundreds if not thousands of times during their marriage, and in fact this behavior was likely a huge problem in their marriage), that’s good enough for her. She says she can tell he’s okay even though there’s a whole lot that isn’t okay right now. Michelle doesn’t have an obligation to dig deeper, and Ted is right to pull back when he realizes that he’s overstepped. I still really appreciated the scene because it shows that both Ted’s therapist and his boss-friend-soulmate have a better understanding of how he’s likely doing and what he needs to hear, and both share that with an invitation for him to reach out but no apparent sense of expectation.

I’m also super into some of the small but significant ways Ted seems more in control of his decisions! It’s really well established at this point that Ted uses alcohol as a crutch. He did it within minutes of his father’s suicide and he’s continued to do it at various emotional moments ever since. It made me very, very happy that when he comes up to Rebecca’s office, eager to congratulate her and talk about the next season but also very clearly shaken from everything that’s happened with Nate and seeing the Believe sign torn in half on his desk, he chooses water when she offers him champagne. It’s not that he’s stopped drinking or something—he and Beard have just recently had a heart to heart over a pint—but it feels like he’s not just immediately diving into a glass of something when he feels things. It feels intentional that in the last couple of episodes he’s had alcohol during moments of celebration and commemoration (the night out with Sharon) and connection (talking to Beard about real things, finally) but not during moments of intense pain and uncertainty.

I keep thinking about Nate crying in front of Ted and trying so hard to wipe his tears away quickly. The shame mixed in with the anger. I have already seen some surprise that there isn’t a bigger confrontation or attempt to explain everything, but I kinda love that Ted doesn’t yell at Nate that he’s had that Christmas portrait at home right next to the portrait of his son this whole time. And I also kinda love that Ted doesn’t go the other direction and try to do whatever it takes to get to a place of forgiveness. They both seem incredibly hurt and like they’ve taken the other’s actions deeply to heart, and this is a story that is so clearly going to continue in complicated ways, even if Nate continues to do some truly awful things in his new coaching role.

Toheeb Jimoh is so good. Sam seems both very young and very mature and very hilarious when he rejects Edwin’s offer and watches the ensuing tantrum. It was just a really good moment of clarity for Sam and I’m really glad we’re going to see a lot of him next season.

I mentioned this in my previous 2x12 meta, but I can’t stop thinking about ”our run-ins” and the Ted-and-Rebecca solidarity of it all. And her wanting Ted to stay as a presence in the room when Sam shared his decision. A really lovely little callback to the last time a football season ended and she expressed a desire for Ted to stay. The same but different, etc.

#ted lasso s2 spoilers #ted lasso #meta by me #ted lasso 2x12 #a lesbian watches ted lasso #cw alcohol abuse #cw suicide mention

[kotoplasm]

can i request a gender neutral college au with oikawa where he forgets to attend his s/o birthday party cause he was too busy practicing 🙂 and he remembers it like towards the end of practice. by the time he gets to his s/o apartment, their small group of friends are already leaving and giving him side eye cause he made them cry on their birthday so he goes inside to apologize. thankks 💕

scenario: deflated

i'm so sorry but this became more angst than fluff 😗 however i might write a part two if people like this one so much. but i enjoyed writing angsty oikawa oop–

you were convinced that he forgot about it. today of all days and he chose to forget the latter.

the streaked colours of the event were scattered erratically across the carpet of your apartment and you were the only one there to pick up the remaining pieces of short-lived ecstasy, tendrils of coral, maroon and lilac wrapping themselves around your slender fingers before they were discarded into a recycling bin.

maybe you were being selfish. he had practise to focus on so maybe the thought slipped his mind.

he didn't forget your anniversary, in fact, he made the effort to go on a spontaneous date that evening, drinking in the ambience that the nearby café had to offer. it made you realise that you didn't need an extroverted celebration to mark an occasion as important as that. he definitely looked apologetic, from the way that his eyes glossed over before midnight to the way his hugs and kisses felt tighter and more passionate.

yet here you were, with neither of those things.

despite the emptiness you had been feeling, your friends made it imperative that you celebrated your twentieth birthday. they'd planned everything, from the cake that you were going to cut to the invitations. they'd even planned for oikawa to bring the cake, allowing you to relish in the fact that you were able to celebrate this special day with someone that you had fallen so deeply in love with.

but you never saw him bring the cake in. to be accurate, nobody had brought it in. it wasn't until your brother took the initiative and brought it in for you, the candles casting a golden glow in your eyes, before you blew out each individual waxy stick and allowed the embittered scent of burnt oxygen to fill the room.

you tried not to think about it too much but it was hard not to. you didn't want to be the type of s/o that didn't take their own priorities into consideration but it was hard not to. why was it so damn hard?

before you realised what was happening, hot tears streamed down your features as you bent down to pick up the last piece of confetti, but you rubbed at them harshly, wiping away any evidence of them.

why were you crying? it was just a birthday. he has other things to focus on.

but you were tired of having to fight a constant war with the sport. regardless of whether it was a choice between you and volleyball, you were always second place. you'd never win. you had only been together since middle school. volleyball has been his life. how could you replace something that felt so eternal to him?

it took you an hour to clean up, finally deciding to hop into a hot shower to rid yourself of the disappointment you had felt prior. there were still a few slices of cake left that you were just planning to snack on as you caught up on a few of the shows that you hadn't had the chance to catch up on due to schoolwork and your part-time job.

it would have been a quiet evening if the doorbell didn't ring three hours later, just a few seconds till midnight. your birthday would be over then and he had yet to send you a single wish. no texts. no delayed calls. no apolgetic smiles. there was nothing.

"speak of the devil." your words held no expression in your ears but to him it felt menacing, like knives slowly prodding their way into his heart. you looked deflated.

"happy birthday y/n." the words that you wanted to hear left his lips but they didn't give you a feeling of warmth and comfort that they usually would.

blue were the colour of his lips; blue from the ice-like tendrils that winter brought with it this evening. in his hands, he held a bouquet of assorted flowers: roses, tulips, daises and many more that you couldn't name but they were wrapped delicately in cellophane with a blue ribbon holding the stems together, a card cradled between his long fingers, shaking from the cold.

you could tell from the beads of sweat that dripped down his face and the pungent smell of body odour that he was of course practising — all day presumably, seeing as the last text that she received from his was from yesterday: tooru commenting on how similar you and this meme looked. it wasn't that funny but you laughed because you enjoyed hearing how raspy his voice sounded at twilight. it was really small but you found pleasure in conversing with his vulnerable side, a side that to this day still feels foreign to you.

"it's a little late for that don't you think?" you muse, taking the bouquet and card from his hands and placing it on the table beside you, sarcasm dripping from your tone. "but i appreciate the thought. afterall, i didn't think that my boyfriend would have forgotten about it."

"i know, i know and i'm sorry! i promise i'll make it up to you if you just give me another chance-"

"you said that before tooru. and you forgot again." you could feel tears begging to fall. "you know i was expecting you to come out of that kitchen door, holding the birthday cake that my friends made me? they said that you promised them. but now i'm just wondering whether those promises will ever hold true...."

he's been through this process before. even if you were his first proper relationship, the others that he'd claimed to be flings had started with those self-same words.... and the ending was always bittersweet. he didn't want to lose you. of course this relationship had its ups and downs, from the fear of it ruining their long-term friendship to the fear of not being able to give you enough time. all those thoughts had left his mind when you said those three words to him during the countdown to new year, and were now re-emerging from a closed wound.

"please," his hand reached for yours, thumbs massaging your skin. "please don't say what i think you're going to say."

"well i don't want to say it either," you said bitterly, your teeth gnawing the inside of your fleshed out cheek. "but maybe it's for the best. you have other things in your life that you need to focus on. i've only ever been an obstacle. i think we both just need some space to figure things out...."

"but y/n please! i still-"

"damn it oikawa! just leave, please!" and they finally fell, accompanying the wimpering bottom lip. it hurts. it hurts so much.

damn these tears. you knew that this was for the best.

in fact, it would be perfect.

maybe he'd be able to think about whether staying together as a couple was doing him more harm than good? maybe he'd be able to come to the conclusion that he was slowly falling out of love? maybe he would understand that you both wanted different things and had different goals.

he stood still for a few seconds, eyes wide in disbelief. it wasn't until you closed the door that you heard his choked cries, echoing into the deep of the night and fading away alongside his body.

maybe. just maybe.

aoba johsai masterlist

main masterlist

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa torū #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa fic #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa imagine #myworks

[lambourngb]

“It was supposed to be a regular, boring morning shower”

First line tag

A million years ago, an anon sent me this ask for the first line meme. I woke up possessed and wrote “stuck in gravity, clawing for some bravery” in 10 days.  This story is complete, 23,000 words. I put the first two chapters up on AO3 early in honor of the news of our show coming back. The rest goes up tomorrow.

beta thanks to the wonderful @tasyfa

Pairing: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Alex Manes/Forrest Long, Michael Guerin/Maria Deluca (past) Kyle Valenti/Maria Deluca (implied/mentioned)

Tags: Starts Forlex ends in Malex, Getting back together, Nebulous Season 3, Angst,  Pining, Alien Soulmate Bullshit, Emotional Infidelity, Communication, Emotional Hurt/Comforot,  Explicit Sexual Content, Dirty Talk , Telepathy, Handprint Sex

Summary: A year after Crashcon, Michael knows three things for certain. 

1. He loves Alex and he probably definitely always will.

2. Having Alex as his best friend makes everything in his life better.

3. Knowing, thanks to his bullshit alien biology, that Alex still fantasizes about his body regularly while dating someone else for a year, well, that is a little more difficult to navigate. 

It’s fine. It is all just fine. 

Author Notes: This content is probably not appropriate for review by a college writing class on tumblr, just saying but you’re welcome to leave a kudo if you like it. 

*****

It was supposed to be a regular, boring morning shower for Michael. 

His first Sunday off in over three months deserved a little self-care, he had decided. The summer had brought an abrupt uptick in work at the garage with increased summertime driving leading to more careless accidents and stranded motorists to tow to safety. While Walt would deny it to the end, Michael couldn’t help but notice the old man had slowed down in his work. Between doing his best to keep Sanders’ in business and taking shifts at the Crashdown to fill in for the still-absent Liz so Arturo and Rosa could have their own break, taking the time for more than a perfunctory late night wash down felt luxurious to Michael.

There was a point to staying busy, with filling every hour inside an engine or on a different project around the junkyard with his trailer and that point was distraction. Distraction from the awareness that everyone was thriving. Max and his new-found ‘cousin’ Jones were reconstructing the history of their people’s language and literature together. Isobel had recently celebrated her three-month anniversary with Monica, an artist who shared the same studio space as Rosa. Maria had made exploring her alien-rooted abilities the focus of her life outside of the bar, combining her knowledge of yoga and meditation to crack the ability of moving forward in time. With that success, she had managed to bring back the answer to saving her brain from damage from the future. Her work with Kyle in developing the treatment for her and Mimi had led a new romance there. Then there was Alex, the true focus of Michael’s need for distraction, marking a one-year anniversary with Forrest. 

It was fine. All Michael had ever wanted was for Alex to be happy. The distractions he had filled his life with helped soothe the edges of knowing who was at the root of Alex’s new-found peace.

In the last year, Michael had built a permanent wooden deck out in front of his Airstream, transforming his fire pit into an outdoor brick barbecue oven, before moving on to recycle discarded auto glass into window panes for a small greenhouse complete with a rainwater cistern off the rear of the trailer. The actual interior boasted its own changes, an expanded shower stall and more of a kitchen set up than a hotplate and kettle with a small split-level stove and expanded countertop. The next task was building a canopy to shield the deck from the elements. At some point, Michael had acknowledged to himself that each piece he had worked on had turned his portable, transient can-go-anywhere Airstream into a stable fixture at Sanders’. 

A home with roots. 

A home without Alex and he had accepted that, respecting Alex’s choice of partner. They were the right people for each other, but were always meeting at the wrong time. For a while, he had waited patiently for things to end with Forrest. He had been happy enough to work on being Alex’s friend in the meantime. Then, once they were truly friends sharing every stupid moment of their days via a text message or over a beer at his trailer, he had felt the betrayal of his selfish thoughts keenly. What kind of friend would root for a break-up? What kind of friend would wish heartbreak on the other?

The asshole kind, he had concluded. 

As the hot water from the shower head poured over his head though, the acceptance he had about Alex moving on was just a little farther from his reach because Alex was currently thinking about him. They weren’t platonic friend-thoughts either.

A ghost sensation of a hand skirted down Michael’s body, lingering over his chest hair, and fuck, Alex had really loved to card his fingers through it. His mind was awash with impulses not his own, hot anticipation and the thrill of pleasure dropped down his body like the free-falling crest of a rollercoaster. Michael closed his eyes, soaking in the feelings. A gasp escaped his mouth, heard by no one in his trailer. Good God, Alex was really ready, waking with morning wood or to someone — Wrapping his own hand around his hardening cock, Michael stroked himself in time with Alex’s thoughts, pushing aside his own. It was best to just give into temptation and enjoy the moment. 

It was something he had learned to embrace with varying degrees of eagerness over the last few years. 

The connection with Alex had formed apparently sometime after the shed, but it had taken him over ten years and Alex moving back to Roswell to realize what was going on between them. The summer they had turned eighteen, they had barely been able to keep their hands off each other in the desert, and when Michael was alone, all he could think about back then, was Alex. His head had been a complex swirl of emotion, slingshotting him from the highs of seeing Alex to the lows of facing his own aborted future. There was the longing for Alex, the sadness that he knew their time was limited because Alex was going to go places, and he was stuck in Roswell watching over Isobel, but in the background, of what he thought was a relic from Jesse’s attack, was always a sense of sick fear, of being caught. Again.

Then over the last ten years, Michael would experience this awareness, and suddenly all he could think about was Alex. How it felt to touch him, the wickedness of his mouth, the burn and the stretch to accept Alex’s cock as he took him inside with a bitten lip- Michael thought it was just his mind, giving him a touchstone to happiness and the remembrance of being loved briefly by Alex. Nostalgia. Afterwards as he caught his breath, with his chest splattered with come, the sadness would seep in again, stealing whatever light that was made by those memories.

It wasn’t until after the drive-in, when Alex had spent almost two months avoiding him in person, that Michael had realized that those moments, late at night or early in the morning, were tied to Alex. It took falling into his bed one night, after visiting Isobel in her pod to finally piece it together. His face had hurt from crying on the drive home and the urge to sleep and never wake up again had been so incredibly strong that it took a moment for him to realize he was thinking about Alex. His cock hadn’t even been on his radar, but suddenly all he could think about was getting sucked off. 

Fuck, he hadn’t wanted it then, too sad and scared about Isobel to feel much connection to his body for the purposes of pleasure, but the sensations and feelings that had overtaken Michael were too intense to fight that night. Later as he panted, open-mouthed and staring at the ceiling of his Airstream with distant thoughts of cleaning up, his phone rang once. Only the once. Then a ding of a text.

Alex -is home: Sorry pocket dialed.

The rush of self-loathing that hit Michael as he read the message had been so strong he had dropped the phone on the floor of the trailer. That’s when he knew it wasn’t his feelings in his head because in all the years of knowing Alex, of loving Alex, he had never once felt disgust toward himself for his feelings for Alex. From the moment across a borrowed guitar, Michael had accepted the tilt of his axis toward Alex Manes as a fundamental fact, like force equalling mass times acceleration.

Alex hadn’t shared that comfort, and the more Michael tuned into what was going on in Alex’s head, the more his heart broke. Two things became clear to Michael over time; the occurrences were sporadic enough for him to know that he only felt them when Alex was specifically thinking about Michael when he jerked off, and the post-orgasm feelings of disgust and self-loathing were not isolated incidents for Alex to feel afterwards.

“Sometimes things end in a whimper, Guerin-” and Michael had numbly accepted that as proof that while Alex might enjoy thinking about his body, about the ways he had pleasured Alex in the past, Alex had no desire for anything more from Michael. The sex was epic, fodder for a late night fantasy, but Michael himself? He was not someone that Alex wanted to want. 

He had changed Alex’s name in his phone from “Alex -is home” to “Alex -is a bad idea” after that and then cursed himself for the trick of alien biology, doomed to be forever aware that he was an example of backsliding to Alex. When Maria had reached for him that night in Texas, he had welcomed her because she seemed at least self-aware of the fact she didn’t want to want him. There was zero chance of a misunderstanding between them that night, even as he kicked himself for still following after people who swore to him that it would never happen again.

For a long time after Caulfield, he had thought perhaps the grief of losing his mother had broken the link with Alex, setting them both free in the wreckage and dust of the prison. The dying psychic screams of his people had rolled over him, scorching his thoughts into cinders as that last connection to love and hope burned out in his mind, his mother’s life extinguishing under the thunder of Semtex and C-4. Then one night shortly after moving his trailer to the Wild Pony, it had happened again. The same overwhelming feeling of need, of longing, but this time the self-loathing afterwards had been accompanied by a crippling feeling of guilt. He had laid there in the twilight of the Wild Pony’s loft, having silently come into his palm while the sound of Maria’s breathing brushed against his ear. For the first time, he had joined Alex in that feeling of self-hatred. 

It was past the time for him to flip the switch from ‘tortured lust’ to some semblance of friendship with Alex, if he could and so tentatively, he agreed to work on uncovering his mother’s past together with him. He updated his phone again with that decision in mind to “Alex -sup bro”.

After Maria had learned the truth about Rosa and sent him away with betrayed eyes, he experienced a moment of weakness for Alex after the visit they had made to the Long Farm. There had been a lightness in how Alex had moved that day, his steps had been considered but committed as they had explored the last place his mother had felt at home on earth. Inside of Michael’s heart, he had been able to feel the pieces moving together while he had stood in a place where Nora had had a family, next to a man who had always represented that promise to Michael. The openness of Alex’s smile as they had waited for Forrest Long to reappear had had Michael thinking dangerous thoughts again about a future with him.

What if.  What if Alex were ready to take a step toward him without the weight of the past? 

That tenuous hope had lasted until the night after Alex had given him the piece of the ship’s console. Standing in his bunker near two am, he had been examining the new piece of his ship, of his past, puzzling over why it wasn’t bonding with the rest of the console when he had felt the awareness of Alex creep into his cells, into his DNA. Eagerly he had opened his jeans with both hands and had fisted his cock, letting himself go with the pull of Alex’s desire. In the aftermath, he had found himself on the floor of the bunker, with come dripping off a fallen drawing of a ship’s engine, but near tears with the knowledge that nothing had changed for Alex. It had still been the same fear flooding his veins, still the same anchor of tortured longing and deep shame weighing his limbs down even as he had been left wrecked by how good his body had felt.

It had been madness for Michael the next few months as he had fallen in deeper with Maria, while the connection with Alex had kept tugging at his soul. There had been little rhyme or reason to when it had happened. Weeks would pass where he apparently hadn’t crossed Alex’s mind once, and then there had been a week when every night Michael had been hit with the same mix of love, lust and bottomless need. Thankfully it had matched with the week-long retreat Maria and Mimi had taken together, saving Michael the work of explaining to her why he was wearing out the washing machines at the Fluff N Fold with his dirty sheets.

The self-torment Alex had felt about him had slowly lifted, to the point when Michael had found out the truth about Walt Sanders, he had called Alex without hesitation. The contact in his phone had changed to ‘Alex- best bro’. If he had finally become a measure of comfort for Alex to remember in his most personal moments, then perhaps Alex could also become a comfort to him, without the mire of their trauma holding them frozen in place. 

He had been fooling himself completely in the aftermath of Alex’s abduction that friendship would ever be enough for him. The wounds from his breakup with Maria had still been bleeding below his skin when he had stepped into the Wild Pony to hear Alex singing about him. About them. Then he had been hit with the connection, blossoming open for the first time ever in Alex’s actual presence under the spell of his song. 

There had still been a ghost of darkness in Alex’s feelings for him, as he had sung about fighting battles but for the first time in a long time, Michael had felt that there was hope that Alex was finally finding peace with Jesse dead. Despite Isobel’s prodding him to stay and make a move, he had known that it wasn’t their time yet. There had been too much grief and regret swirling in his head, and not just from Alex, but he could be patient for them both for the right moment. The connection had never felt more alive between them that night on the promise of a future.

At least that was what he had thought, until time had kept passing yet here he was, standing in his shower with his hand on his dick a year later, while Alex was across town in someone else’s bed but clearly thinking about him.

Michael watched as his seed dripped down the fiberglass walls, the shower spray sending it down the drain in an eddy of his own frustrated longing. His body was calm, at least, and his mind was buzzing with happiness from Alex. He concentrated on the euphoria floating between them in particular. Alex had soaked up pleasure this morning, pursuing it with a greed that Michael couldn’t help but admire, and then he had let himself go without any hint of shame. God, it felt good to know that Alex had finally found that comfort with himself.

He breathed in and out, counting the seconds down until the connection faded. Once it was over, he gave himself five more minutes under the hot spray, letting whatever was welling in his eyes, slip unseen down his face. He cursed his stupid alien biology in the same breath that he clung to it for giving him Alex again, if only briefly. 

After he was dressed for his brunch plans with everyone, he checked his phone before he left, to find a text from Alex. The contact had been updated one more time, six months after the Crashcon, from “Alex -best bro” to “Alex -bf”. Isobel had been way too excited to see that notation, until Michael had patiently explained it had stood for ‘best friend’. Maybe in another universe it was ‘boyfriend’, just not this one.

This wasn’t crumbs, he had argued to her, Alex was still a feast for him in whatever way he could have him. He read the text with his mind still working to box up the feelings that lingered for Alex, “Tell everyone we will be late- overslept”. The ‘we’ was what puzzled Michael the most about the whole situation over the last year. Why was Alex still thinking about Michael the way he did while he was with someone else?

AO3 link for more

#malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #getting back together #season 3 #set a year after the crashcon 2x13 #not forrest long friendly #alien soulmate bullshit #publishing this ask and posting a link is self-indugent but wanted nonnie to see it #Anonymous #alien soulmate shenanigans #cosmic soulmates

[abreathofthewild]

a touch of magic

Prompt: This TikTok

Tagline: Sometimes all you need in life is a touch of magic.

Summary: A Halloween in the life of Thor and Reader and their family.

Warnings: this fluff will rot your teeth.

Wordcount: 1664

Notes: I am so excited to be posting this! I was inspired by the above-mentioned TikTok and after deliberating which character I wanted to write this for, Thor felt like the most appropriate choice. This piece is self-indulgent fluff, friends. I hope y'all enjoy and that you get to have a safe and fun Halloween! ALSO: IMAGE IS NOT MINE I FOUND IT WITH NO EXTERNAL LINK ON PINTEREST.

It’s Halloween. You had chosen something simple for your costume: a long black dress with gauzy black sleeves that puffed a little at the shoulders and were cuffed at the wrist. A black witch’s hat with a large swooping brim sat smartly on your head. Typically, you went all out but this year you really wanted your kids’ costumes to shine. It had taken you six months in between the creative writing courses you taught to sew Darcy’s Belle gown and half of that time to put together Cole’s knight armor. You could hear them clambering down the stairs now shrieking with laughter.

“Mm, I love that dress on you,” a deep voice said behind you. You applied your red lipstick as the final touch, smirking at Thor’s reflection in the mirror. His massive frame took up the doorway as he leaned against it, giving you an affectionately approving once-over. You turned and sauntered over to him, taking in the picture of your husband standing there. Even after all this time, there were moments where his words still made you shiver. He matched your movements, stepping further into the room and into your space as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Do you, now?” You stood on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Maybe that’s why I wore it.” Another kiss on his lips. He leaned into you, smiling as he returned the kiss. “You don’t look so bad yourself, my wolfman.” It seemed only natural with his tousled golden hair and beard that he would recycle one of his favorite costumes and step out in the neighborhood as a werewolf. He wore a red and black flannel over a white shirt that he had cut in three spots with long slashes. His jeans were purposefully torn in a couple of places and instead of applying any product to his hair he had ruffled it and left it a bit unkempt. The best part in your opinion, however, was the fangs. “Love when you wear those,” you murmured, running your tongue along the fake teeth.

It didn’t take long for him to move you until the backs of your knees hit your bed. “Wish we didn’t have to go anywhere tonight,” he whispered, giving you a soft nip at the neck. A small gasp escaped your mouth as your gripped at him tighter. “Maybe we could get a babysitter,” he said as he kissed from your neck down the v of your dress. You could feel the familiar heat creep along your cheeks and flutter in your belly.

“Mommy! Daddy! Cole pushed me!” Darcy was exclaiming her frustration at the bottom of the stairs. Even from here, you could hear her stamping her little feet.

“Did not!” Cole chimed in with the vehemence characteristic of a seven-year-old trying to not get into trouble for bullying his six-year-old sister. You let out an exasperated laugh as Thor groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. You sidled under his arm and grabbed his hand, dragging him along.

“It sounds very tempting hon’ but you know how much the kids have been looking forward to this year. Plus, they’d miss us. Plus,” you whispered as you pulled him in to rub the red smudges from his cheek and lips “I already got us a babysitter for tomorrow night.” You let go of his hand and gave one glance behind you, trying not to let your feet falter at the look in his eyes. He followed close behind.

The scene downstairs wasn’t so great as the one you had just left. Darcy had started crying and Cole looked a little like he had been caught doing something wrong. You went to her but she shook her head saying in between tears “I want Daddy.” You motioned to her as Thor came down the stairs.

“Of course. He’s right there. I’ll talk to Cole for you instead, okay darlin’?” She nodded, her eyes puffy and red. Her bottom lip stuck out and was still quivering when Thor knelt in front of her, wiping the tears from her cheeks and adjusting the laces on her dress sleeves. Even upset she was the prettiest little girl you had ever seen (you were biased), especially with the soft yellow of the ballgown she wore. Cole on the other hand looked quite miserable, his armor sticking out at odd angles because his arms were crossed. You took his hand and walked him a few feet away into the living room and sat on the couch so you were at eye level. “Cole, did you push your sister?” He didn’t quite look you in the eye.

“Yes,” he mumbled. You pursed your lips and gave him a disappointed glance, waiting for him to continue. “She told me my costume was stupid,” he finished quietly. You put your index finger under his chin and gently turned his face so he was looking at you.

“Do you like your costume?” He nodded, tears forming in his crystal blue eyes. So like his father. “Well, then that’s all that matters. I know your sister hurt your feelings but that was no reason to push her. She’s allowed to not like your costume but she definitely needs to use better words. Can you think what you could have done differently?” A begrudging and wavery sigh escaped the little boy in front of you.

“I could have used my words too. I could have told her that hurt my feelings.” You gave him a beaming smile.

“Exactly. Next time, let’s work on using your words, okay? And if you need help, you can always ask Daddy or me. Now, I’m going to wave the magic wand and when I do, I want you to try really hard not to smile. You can’t smile, all right?” You tried to hide your own as you already saw the hints of one teasing at the corner of his mouth. It was an old trick your mother had used on you whenever you were unreasonably cross as a child or needed cheering up. She would tell you not to smile as she waved “the magic wand” which was really just her hand. Of course, the act of telling you not to smile alone would bring one immediately to your face. Sure enough, as you did the same to your little boy, a grin had sprung from ear to ear across his features. “There’s my beautiful boy. I need you to do one last thing for me. Can you apologize to Darcy? We want to have so much fun tonight!”

Cole bounded away with such enthusiasm you would have never known he had quarreled with his sister moments before. You followed behind him, grabbing your coat and his from the hooks by the front door. He was already standing in front of his sister and as Thor stood, he wrapped her up as best he could in his clanky armored arms.

“I’m sorry I pushed you, Darcy.” You watched with a knowing smile as she hugged her brother back. Her little voice piped up as you caught Thor’s eye, guessing he had had a similar talk with your daughter.

“I’m sorry I called your costume stupid.” He looked at you as the siblings slipped on their shoes, now chattering happily about the candy they were going to collect. You handed Cole his jacket to put on and stepped back as Thor wrapped an arm around your waist. You glanced up at him, once again taken aback by how blue his eyes were. The small crinkles of the skin there looked a little more pronounced but you knew it was from smiles and laughter. His hair had started silvering just a little around the sides, no longer the burnished gold of his youth. You brought his hand from your waist to your shoulder, kissing it tenderly. Even his hands now held some looks of a man who was still young but had worked long and hard.

He turned you towards him and you couldn’t help but allow yourself to drown in his gaze. It was tender and after all these years still full of promise. You felt something trip across the connection you shared. A hand to his heart told you it still beat for you, still thundered under your fingertips. The flame that had once burned bright hot when you first met had now turned to a steady glowing ember. One that would last a very long time.

“What?” He questioned you with a lazy grin. You just shook your head in a bit of disbelief.

“I’m just very, very happy,” you whispered. “I can’t believe you, all this, is mine to keep as long as I live.” He looked at you for a moment, stunned into silence. You could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of words to answer you, instead settling on leaning in for yet another kiss.

“As long as we live, I’m yours and you are mine.” Nothing else mattered. It was you and him and the kids. Your family. Your family. To love and cherish and nurture. He stepped back and boomed “Who wants to go trick-or-treating?” The rumbling of their father’s voice brought Cole and Darcy to ecstatic attention as they bounced in their places by the front door. They both yelled “Me! Me!” as Thor opened the front door letting them run past its threshold and ushering you next to him as he locked it. “As long as we live,” he repeated and you nodded, grabbing his hand as you turned onto the sidewalk.

Leaves danced across the pavement in flaming reds and oranges and yellow. The kids trotted on ahead, screaming in delight as they caught up with neighborhood friends. The air smelled like cinnamon and promises. Promises that the two of you would always keep. And you were safe. And you were happy. And you were alive.

#thor #thor x reader #thor x reader and ocs #dad!thor #i feel like thor def made the most sense #because of how adorable he always looks with the kids #inthorantine writes #halloween

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realize

Part Ten: Don’t Want to Lose Us

Summary: Sebastian decides to take a chance; Milena asks a hard question. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2030 Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Chapter Warnings: None beyond series warnings.  Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language.

Series Masterlist

A month after they married, they spent a weekend moving into the new house. Y/N’s assistant back in Los Angeles was packing up her things to send to New York, and had already sent a few boxes to get her started with her own things. Milena’s room was set up, Y/N and Sebastian had a bed to sleep in, and the rest of the boxes were unpacked as the week went on. 

Sebastian got up with Milena the following weekend and made breakfast. They watched a few cartoons, then decided to get out of the house for a while. 

“Let me tell Y/N, then we’ll go. Why don’t you go pick a couple toys to take in the car?”

Milena rushed to her room, anxious to start the selection process. Sebastian smiled after her, then headed to the master bedroom. Y/N was still sound asleep. She seemed to finally be sleeping well after so many things happening at once, and he hated to even wake her to tell her they were leaving, but he couldn’t resist the sleepy smile she usually gave him when their eyes met for the first time every day. Sure enough, when he leaned over her and said her name, softly caressing her cheek, her eyes fluttered open and that smile showed, sleepy but still bright. 

“Morning,” she greeted, stretching her arms above her head before relaxing them again, one hand settling against the arm Sebastian was leaning on. “Sorry for sleeping so late.”

“Nah, it’s not that late. I’m gonna take the little one to look at Halloween costumes, get her out of the house for a little bit. You sleep as late as you need to — I’ll call when we’re on our way back home, see if you need anything.”

Y/N yawned and rolled over, curling back around her pillow. “You’re the best. I’ll be waiting for your phone call.”

The way she smiled up at him, the way she looked so comfortable in his bed — in their bed — made Sebastian want to kiss her before he left. He hadn’t done so since the night of their wedding, with the heated kiss in their hotel room. Y/N could deny it all she wanted, but he knew that had something to do with how overwhelmed and closed off she was right after their wedding. After all, things had more or less returned to normal between them since then; that was a dead giveaway. As more moments to show affection presented themselves, like this one, Sebastian found himself more and more disappointed he hadn’t controlled himself better on their wedding night. 

You’re going to have to figure it out, he warned himself, because it’s only going to get more and more difficult to control yourself. 

He couldn’t let himself cross that line again and scare her away. He needed to come up with a plan to either stop these feelings from developing any further, or a way to find out if maybe Y/N was willing to explore more than friendship and a marriage of convenience between them. 

Date her. 

The thought was quiet and almost fleeting but Sebastian caught it before it was too far from his mind to catch a hold of. He heard about people dating their spouse all the time, but it hadn’t occurred to him until just now that the same way other couple stayed in love might be the perfect way to find out if his wife could fall in love with him. 

At the Halloween store, Sebastian made a quick call to see if his parents were available to babysit on short notice, then put the date on the back burner for the time being so he could concentrate on his time with Milena. 

“Uncle Seb?” she started as he lifted her out of her seat, making sure her toys stayed in the car. 

“What’s up, munchkin?”

Milena took his hand as they crossed through the parking lot. “Is my mama gonna come get me soon?”

He was gutted and guilty. His heart broke with the idea of telling his precious niece that her mama wasn’t ever coming to get her. He had been selfish, thinking so much of how things were going to work out with Y/N, and not enough about how Milena was doing. He sighed and turned back to the car with Milena. He opened the driver’s side door and sat her down. With a shaky inhale, he crouched down to her level. 

“I wish your mama could come get you, baby — not because I don’t want you with me, but I know how much you must miss her. I miss her every second of every day. She was my baby sister. Beautiful, just like you.” Milena’s face didn’t smile. “Remember when Bunica told you that your mama is in Heaven? It’s beautiful there. No one gets hurt, no one is sad. But when people go there, they have to stay. That’s why you’re living with me and Y/N, okay?”

Milena’s chin quivered and her bottom lip pouted out. She whispered, “Mama’s not coming?”

Sebastian didn’t have a chance to answer before the little girl was full-on crying. He took a deep breath to keep himself from crying and lifted her into his arms. He sat sideways in the driver’s seat and held her, promising that no matter what, he and Y/N would always take care of her. She would always have a home and would always be loved. 

“I know it’s not the same as being with your mama,” he comforted, “but you’re never going to be alone, Milena. We want you with us and we are always going to want you.”

He would remind her as many times as he needed to over the course of her lifetime, he knew. As her cries turned to whimpers, Sebastian made a mental note to narrow down the list of child counselors and therapists he and Y/N had already compiled, so that Milena could start that process as soon as possible. 

“Do you still want to go in here, or do you want to go home? Or we could go to the park?”

Milena sniffled. “Wanna look at the princesses.”

Sebastian smiled and stood from the car, making sure it was locked before positioning her on his hip and proceeding into the store. 

By the time Sebastian called Y/N, she was up and unpacking the last of the boxes. He promised to make lunch when they returned and warned her that before anything else could happen, Milena was going to want to try on her Halloween costume. 

“Also, that list that we made,” he commented, obviously trying to be discreet, “we need to narrow it down and start making some calls on Monday. I’ll tell you later what happened.”

“Oh, okay. The list is in the desk drawer — I made sure we kept good track of it. You guys be safe, please.”

“We will. See you soon.”

Y/N disconnected the call and went back to the unpacking. It felt good to have the boxes all emptied and the house set up. They would need to get a few things to fill the extra rooms, and Y/N still had some things coming from LA, but otherwise, they were settled. She broke down the boxes and put them out with the recycling, then got a sweater to keep her warm from the chilly air while she sat out on the back patio with a cup of coffee. 

While her feelings hadn’t changed in the last month — if anything, they had grown stronger — but, with Kennedy’s help, she had decided to embrace her life as it was. Sebastian hadn’t changed, Milena needed her; there was no reason for Y/N to be in a constant panic. With her calm came the return of their usual friendly exchanges of affection — though sometimes, Y/N had to admit, she had to wonder if the things Sebastian said and did were maybe coming from a place of feelings that matched her own. 

“Look! Look! M’really gonna be a princess!” Milena exclaimed, breaking Y/N from her reverie. She proudly held up the princess costume and grinned. 

Y/N made a show of being impressed. “That is so beautiful! A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl! Did you have so much fun looking at all of the things with Uncle Seb?”

Milena nodded. “We got pumpkins! But they’re not real.”

“Pumpkins? Ooh, c’mon, show me! Then we’ll try your dress on while Uncle makes lunch for us.”

The little one raced ahead, but Y/N took her time to catch up. She met Sebastian in the kitchen, kissing his cheek. He pulled her into a tight hug — tighter than usual. 

“You okay?” she frowned. 

Sebastian sighed. “Milena asked if her mom was coming to get her soon.”

“Oh, Seb …”

She broke the embrace for only a moment, to set her coffee cup down. She had learned over the years that when he felt in over his head, when he felt like he was drowning in whatever life had thrown at him, a good hug went a long way to getting Sebastian to the point where he felt like he could move forward and conquer each new obstacle. 

“That’s why you wanted to look at the list,” Y/N surmised. 

He nodded, still holding on to her. “I don’t want her to be completely broken, you know? You were right. We have to handle this now, before it gets worse. We’re lucky, I’d guess, that the night terrors aren’t happening more often.”

Small feet running through the house broke up their embrace. Milena was in her Halloween costume — although the dress was backwards, and the tiara was lopsided on her head. 

“You got changed all by yourself, look at you go,” Sebastian chuckled, fixing her tiara. “You are the most beautiful princess there ever was.”

“I agree,” Y/N grinned. “How about you and me go find some shoes in your closet to go with it?”

“Yay, yay, yay!” Milena cheered, leading the way to her bedroom. 

Y/N lingered behind. “You okay, for now?”

Sebastian nodded. “Yeah, for now. Thanks, Y/N/N.”

She only smiled and went after Milena. Her heart was telling her to hold on to him longer, but her head reminded her that he wasn’t the only one who needed her. 

After lunch, when Milena was down for her afternoon nap, Sebastian decided to lay down for a nap of his own. Having slept in, Y/N wasn’t too sleepy, but she offered to lounge with him and watch some quiet TV while he napped. She leaned against the headboard, flipping through channels with the remote in one hand, and softly carding the fingers of her other hand through his hair while he rested. 

“Hey,” he whispered, taking her hand in his, “I had an idea. My parents are free to watch Milena tonight. Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

“Oh. Um, sure. Where do you want to go?”

He mentioned a place that was nice but not fancy. “We haven't done anything, just the two of us, since the wedding. I know Milena is our focus right now, and we’ve been getting the house settled, but I don’t wanna lose us, either.”

“Me either,” Y/N agreed. “What time do you want to go?”

He thought for a moment. “We can drop her off at seven-thirty, then leave from there?”

“Sounds good to me.”

With their plans in place, Sebastian closed his eyes again. Y/N resumed her channel flipping and running her fingers through his hair. While he slept, she mentally played back his words over and over again — too many times. 

I don’t want to lose us. 

She didn’t want to lose them, either, certainly, but Sebastian, it seemed was trying hard to hold on to their friendship. It reminded her that, despite a few moments of beyond-friendly affection, she was likely in these feelings alone. 

She wasn’t going to let this send her into another spiral. She would keep doing what she had been doing: loving Sebastian, loving Milena. Hoping and praying that this piece of life was meant for longer than a season. 

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​ @horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​ @averyrogers83​ @jennmurawski13​ @connie326​

IYJR: @elsatxx​ @tanelle83​ @amanda-teaches​ @etherealwaifgoddess​ @kmuir1​ @ntlmundy​ @jayankles​ @rebekahdawkins​ @denise1605​ @rhadigen​ @peace-love-hobbitness​ @itsallyscorner​ @mizzzpink​ @auspiciousharriet​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @learisa​ @tellmewhatyouwill​ @katherinereid​ @lokilokilokilokilokiloki​ @auriandthepussicats​ @tellmewhatyouwill​ @itsmycorneroftheinternet​

#marvelfluffbingo2020 #sebastian stan #fanfiction #reader insert #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #wait till you guys read the next chapter oml i'm so excited

[kookiebunnii]

d4u || fix his broken heart

mar. 2018. i realized today that i can’t always make jungkook happy. he has his own struggles too, and perhaps as a friend i can only ever stay beside him when he’s heartbroken. yet, i’m unsatisfied with that realization. i wish i could do more for him. 

pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x reader

genre: angst

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mayhaps you use a bad word  👀

The first time you realized you loved him was also the first time you ever saw him cry.

Jungkook liked to be your resident tough guy. He always forced you to watch horror movies with him late at night simply because he liked remaining unperturbed as you shook in terror, him laughing whenever you covered your eyes in anticipation for the jumpscare as soon as the music cuts out. You knew well enough after years of this torture that dolls, children, and cheap housing signaled big demon energy. However, despite sitting through more horror flicks than the average person, you still keep your lamp light on for a good three nights afterwards—just in case. Jungkook loved teasing you with this information, but you were more concerned about the possibility that your best friend-turned-roommate was a demon himself. How else would he be able to watch nightmarish Annabelle movies without even flinching?

As hard-working and aspiring as he is, he also never breaks down when he misses a goal he’s set for himself. You’ve seen him shattered for underperforming in a class he was confident in, angry for not winning an important game on the university’s competitive e-sports team, and even depressed for a whole week after the audio file for one of his song covers vanished.

Not once did he shed tears.

Imagine your surprise then, when you find him sitting on the couch one afternoon with red-rimmed eyes and two empty beer cans on the table.

You don’t say anything at first. Gritting your teeth in anticipation of the unknown, you head into your room as if it were a regular day, hanging your tote bag on a hook near the door. Robotically, you wash your hands and tie up your hair in the bathroom. When you finish, you head back out to the living room again to confront him.

When you pick up the half-empty can hanging lifelessly in his hand, he doesn’t even look at you. Even when you chug down the remaining drink and chuck it in the recycling bin, he doesn’t acknowledge you. It’s only when you sit by his side, leaning your head against his shoulder to join him in staring at the wall, do the first words fall from his lips.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, considering the light taste of beer that lingers there. Beer wasn’t your thing, but you had to stop him from drinking so much.

“No. You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” you admit, pressing your cheek deeper into his oddly comfortable shoulder-- a given due to how diligently he works out recently. You can’t remember the last time you were this close to him, with the smell of his detergent so tantalizingly perceptible. It’s familiar in the way that you recognize it immediately as him, but foreign in that it’s rarely this upfront against your senses. He’s radiantly warm, but his frame is shaking as he tries to hold in his cold sadness.

With a shaky breath, he fiddles with the zipper of his windbreaker for a few seconds before choking, “Yuna’s been cheating on me.”

Eyes wide, the words catch in your throat. It almost feels as if your heart has fallen to the pit of your stomach at his confession. Cycling through confusion, anger, and hurt, all you can do is swallow thickly to counter the tightness growing in your throat. You wanted to cry, yet you felt selfish for wanting to do so. The pain you felt probably paled in comparison to what Jungkook’s experiencing. You knew that she was his first love, and when the kid loved he loved.  

A cold laugh expels out of your mouth in response to the absurdity of it all, and suddenly everything made sense. Of course the only way such a happy-go-lucky boy can be reduced to a tearful shell of himself is from the inside—from someone he trusted who ruined him. You think you hate Yuna, but you hate yourself more for being unable to do anything for him.

“Guk, that’s her fucking loss then.”

The words fall from your lips, heavy and full of spite. They taste bitter, and suddenly you wish you hadn’t finished that beer. Everything felt so wrong, the boy who deserved the world had his heart trampled on and you were stuck as the girl who couldn’t mend it for him. When he finally lets the dam break and begins crying again, the small sobs that wrack his chest almost splinter you in two. He tries to hide his face from you, and you instinctively reach out towards him. You hold him around his waist as he cries, your face buried in his left shoulder. Unwilling to speak further, you do the only thing you know how to. You wait for him.

It’s late in the evening when Jungkook finally talks to you again. He seems exhausted, his cheek pressing against the top of your head in defeat. With your chin perched on his shoulder, you bite your lip in contemplation. Plans form in your head, but you don’t ask for Jungkook’s input on them. You needed Yuna to know how disgustingly vile she was for choosing this avenue instead of simply ending things with him, because you were sure as hell Jungkook didn’t make it clear for her.

“Y/N?” his soft inquiry breaks you out of your thoughts.

Doing a little drumroll on his thigh with your pointer fingers, you hum in response, “Yeah?”

“Do you think she loved me?”

The question catches you off-guard. Yuna had been his first girlfriend, and he spent a lot more time away from the apartment after meeting her. You still saw him frequently enough, and from your experiences with her she genuinely appeared to enjoy Jungkook’s company. She did occasionally give him a hard time for living with you, but other than that the two of you respected the other as important figures of Jungkook’s life.

“She did. She loved you,” you admitted. Perhaps her love paled in comparison to the natural, compassionate affection he gave her, but you knew well-enough that anyone could tell the two had shared a mutual affinity for the other. You wonder if your answer was the one he wanted.

He seems to mull over this idea, his fingers wearing at a loose thread on the rips of his jeans. As he does this, you brush some of his hair away from his forehead. A few strands were stuck to his forehead dejectedly. His eyes are puffy with the amount of crying he’d done today and it takes you an extraordinary amount of willpower not to find Yuna and give her a piece of your mind then and there.

“I’m not okay,” he admits, and you can’t help but lift up his face to look at you directly.

“You don’t have to be.”

That night, he doesn’t want to sleep alone. He tugs at your wrist with an unspoken question and you knew you would stay with him until he could fall asleep. That was the type of relationship you held with him, knowing what the other needed before having to ask.

As you tuck him in bed, you turn off the lights except for a single desk lamp near his computer on the lowest brightness setting. You open the textbook for your Introduction to Marketing class and begin to read the latest chapter. Occasionally, you glance over at Jungkook to see how he’s faring. Thirty minutes pass and he’s still staring at the same spot on the ceiling.

“Can’t sleep?” you set your book down and ease off his gaming chair. Doing a few stretches as you approach the side of his bed, you plop down on the corner of the mattress and pinch his nose.

He grabs your hand off his nose and pulls you closer to him. Surprised but not uncomfortable, you let him guide your arm across his chest in an awkward half-hug. A dejected sigh comes from the poor boy, and you change your position to hold him better. You’re still laying atop his blankets, but you lie on your side and begin running your fingers through the locks of hair closest to you. He finally closes his eyes at your touch, and you wish you could smooth out the frowning corners of his lips.

Maybe the two of you were never actively aware of it, or even considered telling the other you loved them, but in that moment the words blossomed across your tongue. You wanted him to know that you loved him after all these years of watching him grow from a mischievous boy to a responsible man. You wanted him to know that it wasn’t his fault—that he couldn’t have done anything different to change the outcome. You wanted him to know that he deserved so much more than this.

You couldn’t say it though. Why couldn’t you say it?

In the midst of your thoughts, you fingers had stopped their ministrations in his hair. Jungkook takes note of this and turns to look you in the eyes. His cheeks are splotchy, the rims of his overworked eyes swollen from the abuse they’ve endured today. Even then, you couldn’t say those words.

“Thank you Y/N,” he gives you a smile he can barely muster, and you know he’s doing it to cheer you up.

You close your own eyes so you don’t have to look at his face any longer. It made you feel utterly useless and weak with swirling emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. It confused you and you hated feeling out of control.

If he kept caring for you, even while he suffered, you felt like you would say something…do something you shouldn’t.

You slip your hand under the blankets to grab his. When he gives your hand a squeeze, you know he believes that you’re doing this to comfort him. Instead, you know that you’re being selfish, holding onto him to ground yourself from doing something you couldn’t be responsible for.

Damn, you really are a fool.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts #bangtan #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts drabble #bts series #Bestfriend Jungkook #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook ff #bts preferences #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bangtanarmynet

[janekfan]

Heart(ache)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199034

“You, you, you want to say something, Martin, so just say it!”

“I won’t, not while we’re both upset.” Martin gestured tiredly, somehow keeping his temper even as Jon flickered lightning quick between all of his emotions seemingly at once. “Not when you’re like this.” Like this, was pacing the length of the sitting room, shaking top to toe, each and every muscle stretched taut as a bow string. He felt out of control, like a war was waging inside his chest and there was no space, no way out.

“I didn’t.”

He hadn’t.

Because Martin had to bodily intercept him and drag him away from the child harboring the fear he practically tasted on the recycled air in the market. But he hadn’t. He, he wouldn’t.

But he would, wouldn’t he. When his tentative control over the horror roiling just under his skin snapped. When he ate, and ate, and ate up their fears and haunted their dreams until the empty, desolate abyss inside him stopped hurting.

“I know. But it was a close thing and I’m. I’m tired, Jon.” He pinched his nose, glasses riding up on his forehead. “A child, Jon. A child.”

Logically. The part of Jon that still existed logically knew this wasn’t easy on Martin. Knew it was impossible. Knew that this hunger was taking advantage of the man he’d been before this and exacerbating all the worst parts of himself.

And he let it. Some days.

Because it was easier.

It had always been easier to be alone.

Trust Martin to keep coming back and Jon to keep letting him; craving him like a drug, the only one that could quell the ravenous voice whispering in his ear all those seductive, cloying promises of freedom and power and Knowledge of all things.

But Martin would never be able to understand how deep the dark went and how much of it was Jon himself and it was shameful that he couldn’t tell where he ended and the Eye began and Martin could never understand. Wonderful, beautiful Martin asked how he could help and Jon didn’t know because nothing helped except that which he tried so hard not to take.

God. He was tired of being a burden.

Tired of being helpless.

Tired of losing bits and pieces to that covetous pit.

And he was just so angry.

Static filled his head and he realized he was holding it in both hands, tugging at his greying hair and Martin was still talking but he didn’t understand what he was saying. Could only pick up on the displeased nature of his tone.

Martin was upset. Jon made him upset.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Jon.” And he didn’t deserve the concern in his voice.

“You were going to say something. Before. Please.” Jon couldn’t feel his hands. His arms were numb.

“Not now.” But he needed it now. He needed to know so he could fix this.

“Martin--” He was turning away. Leaving. He was leaving.

“No, Jon.” He could. Fix. He could fix this. He just needed to Know. If he Knew he could fix this. Then Martin wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave if he could just fix what he broke. He just needed to Know.

“Tell me!” Despite the desperate fracture in his voice, the compulsion was like a physical blow and Jon grieved it the instant he spoke but the damage was already done. Dangerous satisfaction that didn’t belong to him flooded his mouth with salt.

Time slowed.

Jon watched (because that was all he ever did) in horror as Martin struggled against the Eye’s power, his power, before his answer erupted from his throat like a gout of acid.

“I hate that you’re like this!” Martin clapped both hands over his mouth, hurt, and confusion, and disappointment welling up in his eyes as Jon turned tail and ran into the night.

There were no shortage of places to hide in the highlands and quick as he could, Jon wedged himself, trembling fit to shake apart, under the shadows of a fallen stone wall before the hysterical sob fighting to break free wrenched itself painfully from the dead center of his chest.

And once it was set free there was no way to stop, not even when he became light headed from the lack of air, not when he knocked his head against the stones with his frantic rocking back and forth, curled up as small as he could get. He couldn’t stop crying, hyperventilating between his knees, the mocking laughter of his god echoing in the hollows of his mind.

It’s over.

Over.

I’m alone.

I’m alone.

I can’t do this alone.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Hard, Job bit into the skin between his thumb and index finger, muffing himself with the bite and begging the pain, this new pain, this different pain, to cut through the noise taking up all his spaces, stealing away his control and he’s had so little of it lately. This time he slotted a knuckle between his teeth until he tasted blood.

Again.

Again.

Until his paralyzed lungs heaved in a great breath and dizzied him with it.

Until the panting slowed.

Again.

Until each hand was covered in healing, bruising, bleeding marks of his own making.

Until he could think again.

Until the shame blossomed in him and he cried anew, cutting the edge of his pinky on an incisor. Anything to stop feeling for just one moment. He sank in on himself, making himself somehow smaller amongst the rubble boxing him in, resting his hot, hot forehead against the chilly stone. He could feel the cold seeping in, could see his breath on each exhale and took to counting each plume until the only thing he was left with was an aching exhaustion down deep in his string-and-stick bones.

Sodding blighter.

You never stop when you should. Always pushing.

Always needing more than someone gave. Never grateful for what he was given. Selfish. Martin would realize sooner or later, that Jon needed more than he had any right.

And now.

Martin, sweet, kind, beautiful Martin, would let him down gently. Explain that he hadn’t known how much of himself Jon would try and take. That he hadn’t known the depths of his greed and couldn’t allow Jon to use him up. He would be sorry.

And then he would leave.

And the idea that Jon found a certain comfort in the familiar order of these things, knew what to expect, was sickest of all.

Tears slipped down his cheeks, dripped off his chin, and Jon didn’t know whether the furious shuddering was from the temperature or the residual shock of his panic attack. As he continued to calm, the Eye flickered and danced along to the thrum of the insect song all around him, identifying each species, genus, family, order, latin name, who discovered each one and when; the list was infinite. Jon let it have its fun, blinking slowly, wondering absently who’s dreams he’d lurk through if he just fell asleep right here.

He was contemplating that very thing when he heard Martin’s voice calling out and Jon knew if he stayed still he wouldn’t be found and considered doing just that, not knowing how he could ever face him again after what he’d done. The beam of a torch swept over the wall and Jon heard quiet cursing as Martin tripped and almost lost his footing.

He would hurt himself stumbling around out here in the dark looking for Jon so scrubbing his face free of any tears, he stood on unsteady legs, limping forward filled to bursting with regret and shame.

“Martin.”

“Oh, Christ, Jon.” He whirled, hand clutched over a pounding heart no doubt and watched him scan him up and down, expression forcibly neutral and more tears rolled down his cheeks. Wordlessly, Martin bundled him up in his coat and warmth engulfed him as he was led back to the cabin by the hand settled against the small of his back.

He was sat in a chair in the tiny kitchen and Martin made no motion to take his coat so he hunched himself up inside it to watch him putter around preparing tea. Jon knew better than to interrupt. Could tell he was angry by the clipped movements, his stiff shoulders. He swallowed, pushing down the panic. Martin had every right to be mad. To yell at him. To hurt him if he needed to. It wasn’t fair to manipulate him with more tears.

He would be patient. He would wait. Because Martin needed him to wait and he didn’t wait last time.

Jumping when the mug was set in front of him, Jon waited until Martin settled across from him, watching his body language, noticing how he wouldn’t meet his eyes. Noticed how he relaxed after the first sip.

“I’m--”

“Drink your tea, please, Jon.” Terse, but not unkind. Until now, Jon had kept his hands hidden in the long sleeves. The bites were healing. Quickly. They weren’t gone. And Martin would see if he reached for the porcelain in front of him.

Would he be mad?

“Breathe, Jon.” How? When he’d ruined the only thing good he had and that knowing was crushing him like he’d been crushed in the Buried. “You’re freezing, love.” Jon’s eyes went wide in surprise, welled up. Spilled over. “Drink your tea.” Softly, like he was coaxing a cornered animal. Ashamed, he looked down at the surface of the worn table speckled with his tears, and reached out his hands, closing his eyes at the sharp intake of breath. He couldn’t look. Too afraid of what he’d see and I don’t need to Know, thank you very much, please, stop.

The first swallow began to thaw him from the inside, out, and it was made just how he liked it and suddenly he was crying so hard he could barely finish, gasping like a fish out of water for just a whisper of air, sore from the effort. He was strung out, a wreck, scarcely keeping it together, not keeping it together. And suddenly he was being pressed against Martin’s chest, one hand gently holding his head in place, the other running up and down his back as he fought himself for permission to breathe.

This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He hurt Martin.

And again, he made it all about him.

It was always about him.

“Let’s get these washed up, okay?”

Savlon and plasters applied, Martin settled them both on the couch, tugging Jon against him and pulling a blanket over the both of them.

“I’m so, so, s’s’sorry.” Martin sighed heavily, carding fingers through Jon’s hair when he tensed up at the sound.

“I know.”

“H’how can I--?”

“I’m sorry, too. I was so scared for that child.”

“I kn’know.” Jon pushed away so he could look at Martin. “I’ll do better. I won’t. I won’t go into the village.” Just please, please don't leave me here alone. Martin pressed a kiss against his forehead.

“You’re doing your best.” While falling so, so short.

“Do you.” Jon licked dry lips. “You hate--”

“I don’t hate you, darling.” Jon buried his face in Martin’s jumper. “I hate seeing you struggling because I can’t help you.”

“You do help.” Muffled by the soft yarn. “You’re the only thing that does help and I. I.”

“Made a mistake. And you hurt me. But, Jon? It doesn’t mean I’m leaving.” The relief was heady, overwhelming. “Next time, because there will be one, that’s just how this all works. Next time you need to listen when I tell you I need some time.” Jon nodded. “Good. Well, that’s a start then.”

“That’s it?”

“For now.” Martin hugged him tightly. Jon tentatively returned it. “We’re tired--don’t argue with me. And we have time to figure this out together, love.”

And Jon breathed.

#TMAHC #TMAHCweek #jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #Hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #fear #panic #panic attack #anxiety #conflict resolution #self harm #biting

[nxrthmizu]

[Broken Hearts and Empty Ones]- Daminette Songfic: ‘The Only Exception’, ft. Paramore

---

When I was younger

I saw my daddy cry

And curse at the wind

Damian crouched outside the door of the office, hearing Bruce’s muffled sobs echoing softly in the secluded area of the manor. The fact that Bruce was crying was nerve-wracking enough- But crying over a woman? That was something else- Especially since that woman was his mother. 

He broke his own heart

And I watched

As he tried to reassemble it

Damian watched as his father kept a straight face at breakfast the next morning, the cries and tears of last night only a distant memory- Perhaps even a dream. He watched the way Bruce looked at Tim and Stephanie with that wistful spark in his eyes. He watched the way tears- Not happy tears, but broken-hearted tears- Gathered in his father’s eyes when Dick and Barbara got married.

And my momma swore

That she would never let herself forget

When Damian was still young, he remembered how his mother would put on the cold, uncaring expression on despite the fact she just caught the title of ‘Gotham Playboy Bruce Wayne Caught With (---)’ on the first page of the latest news. 

She raised him, telling him that no one was trustable, that giving out his heart would only result in it getting broken. 

And that was the day that I promised

I'd never sing of love

If it does not exist, 

She’d made him promise, she said: “Don’t you ever let love be your weakness.” and Damian had swore, Damian had squeezed every ounce of affection out of his system, had made sure he’d never develop a crush on anyone.

but darlin'

You are, the only exception

The first day he’d met her in college, he’d scoffed at the sight of a weak, frail girl- Clearly, this was someone who gave her heart away too easily- And got it returned, broken. 

You are, the only exception

But the next day, she’d brought him a paper bag of macarons and she’d told him to eat up. And then, out of sheer curiosity, he asked why she’d let her heart get broken. She took one look at him, and told him that his heart was as empty as hers was broken, and then pushed the paper bag closer to him. 

You are, the only exception

He’d been offended at first, and refused to talk to her. He’d given her the cold shoulder, telling himself it was better to have an empty heart than a broken one. But even though he’d ignored her, brushed her aside, and spat at her about keeping to her own business, without fail, everyday, he’d have a bag of fresh macarons on his table. 

There was even one day when he thought she’d stopped making macarons, but later, when he was at the library, studying, she’d dropped by, setting a bag of macarons on his table, walking away without another word. And although he didn’t want to admit it, he ate all of the macarons (Only because they were good and it was a pity to throw them away). 

You are, the only exception 

Then, after that, he’d find a bag of fresh, toasty macarons inside the mailbox of his hostel, everyday. But on a faithful Friday, two weeks after she’d told him his heart was empty- He found a sticky note on his bag of macarons. It read: Broken hearts take time to fix, but an empty heart takes affection to mend. 

One part of him scoffed at how cringey it was, how naive she was. But another part of him pocketed the note, another part of him held the note to his heart in the dark, and smiled like a teenager in love. 

---

Maybe I know, somewhere

Deep in my soul

That love never lasts 

If she was being honest, Marinette saw it coming. From the day she’d asked him out, to the day he broke it off, she’d always knew that he was too good for her, and that her love would never be enough to tie him down. 

And we've got to find other ways

To make it alone

But keep a straight face

She’d refused to be the girl who spent hours crying over her breakup, but that didn’t mean she didn’t shed a few tears while watching romantic movies, all alone in the apartment that she had spent so much time in with him. 

And I've always lived like this “You can keep it,” He said, tossing the keys of their apartment to her, his arm around his new, smirking girlfriend, who looked as proud as the cat who got the canary. 

She’d caught the keys with shaking hands, dripping tears, and a broken heart.  Keeping a comfortable, distance After one week of mourning the silence in the apartment, she got herself together. She made designs, she listened to breakup songs, she attended college while earning money off commissions. 

And up until now

Once in a while, she’d find something that was his, and then think: Wow, he’s been gone for three months now. 

I had sworn to myself 

“I’m happy,” She said, a sad smile on her face as her friends got engaged, one by one. 

that I'm content

“I’m happy,” She told her parents, a bright smile on her lips, a heavy weight jerking on her chest as she glanced at her mother’s wedding ring. 

With loneliness “I’m happy,” She whispered, sitting alone in a quiet apartment, knowing that the rest of her friends were shopping for wedding gowns. 

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

She cried and screamed when she found a framed photo of her and him, six months ago, his arm around her waist and matching, in-love smiles on their faces. 

But, you are, the only exception

When she looked at him, the new boy in her college class, she saw- Nothing. There was no love, no hate, no joy, no despair. And for some reason, a voice in her head told her that yes, she was going to help him. 

You are, the only exception

She picked up the spatula, hesitating, remembering all the times she baked home-made pastries for him until the day that she found the pastries she’d packed for him to eat at work in the trash can, all of them untouched. She shook her head, and told herself no, she would never again associate the thought of baking with him.

You are, the only exception

Everyday, without fail, she packed macarons for him, and everyday, she found her heart slowly, slowly piecing itself back together. And every morning, she found herself waking up with a smile, getting up to gather her ingredients and make more fresh macarons for him. 

You are, the only exception

It went to the point where she gained the courage to put a sticky note on his bag of macarons, and as she was writing, she glanced up, catching view of herself in the mirror. Her eyes had stopped being sunken; The dark circles beneath were gone; And most of all- A soft, genuine smile was stretched across her lips. 

---

I've got a tight grip on reality

Damian decided enough was enough. He asked around for her apartment address, and on a Saturday morning, he waited for her, right outside her door. 

But I can't let go of what's in front of me here

Oh, she’d been surprised, alright. Once the shock wore off, she’d smiled sweetly at him, and then Damian realised, as he looked at her, that she’d mended her heart. Sure, you could still see the little flaws and cracks in her once-full heart, but somehow, she’d gathered the million shatters of her heart and then stuck them back together. 

“Hey...?” She greeted unsurely, and he noted the recycled bags in her hand. “Good morning.” 

He nodded in response, his tongue absolutely tied. He fiddled with her sticky note inside his pocket, and gestured with his other hand for her to go on with her day. He was grateful that she didn’t ask any questions about why he was following her. The two walked to the subway, took three stops down, and emerged on a busy street. After another bit of a walk, they stopped at the grocery store. 

“So, why did you follow me to the grocery store?” She asked, arms crossed. 

He only shrugged and gestured for her to go on. He carried the basket as she picked up her usual ingredients, eyeing Damian with a wary glance. Flour, almond ground, meringue. When she was done, she went over to take the basket from him, but he held on firmly. She raised an eyebrow but never said anything as they made their way to the paying counter. When she was about to take out her purse to pay, he gave the cashier his credit card. 

When she protested, he had said: “The least I can do is pay for the ingredients.” She went quiet, and then everything made sense. 

On the way back to the subway station, he had insisted on carrying the bags like the gentleman he was. Sure- He might’ve never had a crush on a girl before, but Bruce and Alfred made sure he was raised right. 

I know you’re leaving in the morning, when you wake up

“You know, you’re really incredible.” He said, smiling at her. 

“Oh?” The corner of her mouth lifted. “How so?” 

Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream, oh

He took out the sticky note from his pocket, and the shock on her face was something he would never forget. “Remember this?” The note was wrinkled and stained- It was pretty obvious that he had opened it and re-folded it many, many times. “You said ‘A broken heart takes time to fix, but an empty heart takes affection to mend’.” 

She nodded, unsure of where the conversation was going. “You’re really incredible, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” He repeated. “In under two weeks, you managed to fix both a broken heart and an empty one.” 

They stopped walking, and she stared at him. 

You are, the only exception

”You actually listened to what I said.” She said, finally. “I didn’t think you would.”

You are, the only exception

He shrugged. “I thought I’d never fall in love, either, but look where I am now.” He smiled softly. “You really are something else.” 

You are, the only exception

She blushed. 

You are, the only exception

“You have to promise me something, though.” He put on a serious face. “Promise me you’ll never stop making macarons for me.” 

She hit him playfully, and then Damian knew in that instant, his empty heart had been mended. 

You are, the only exception

On a Friday evening, as she returned from the campus library, Marinette glimpsed something sticking out of her apartment mailbox. She opened it cautiously, afraid that it was a prank. A paper bag sat quietly inside, a little letter lying next to it. She peered into the paper bag, letting out a delighted squeal when she spied a container with disfigured-looking cream puffs. 

You are, the only exception

The letter, which she opened later in her apartment, read: This was my first attempt at making cream puffs. I know they probably aren’t the best payment to you, especially since your macarons always look perfect and let’s not mention you fixed my ‘empty heart’ (Your words, not mine). So... If the cream puffs aren’t good enough of a repayment, could I possibly make it up to you with a date? Tomorrow night, 6pm? Sincerely, your-once-empty-hearted-boy, Damian Wayne. 

You are, the only exception

Three months later, she’d decided that the apartment was still a little painful to live in, and after selling it off, both she and Damian had put together the money that they had from doing commissions and working at a cafe respectively, and they’d bought a little apartment not too far from the college. 

You are, the only exception

One evening, two years after they’d graduated- She’d dressed up nicely to go on a date- He’d said ‘dress extra nice’ in his text, then added: ‘don’t worry too much, you’d look good in whatever you pick’. Once the taxi had dropped her off, she looked around the lavender field that Damian had instructed her to go to- face brightening when she saw her beloved once-empty-hearted boy. 

It was difficult not to squeal as he got on one knee, taking a velvet box out of his back pocket. Both of them were shaking with emotions, and Damian hadn’t even gotten the first word out and he was already getting teary. Marinette was seconds from sobbing out of happiness. 

“Marinette,” He took her hand, his voice shaking. “When we first met, you told me I was as empty-hearted as your were broken.” Damian swallowed. “And even after I snapped at you, brushed you off, you still made those macarons for me.” Both of them shared a teary laugh. “And under two weeks, you fixed both your broken heart and my empty one. So,” He choked, his heart nearly bursting from the pressure. “Will you let me be your once-empty-hearted-boy forever, and let me marry you?” 

“Yes,” Marinette laughed, tears dripping down her cheeks. “A thousand times yes!” 

And I'm on my way to believing

Damian, standing at the altar with his father and brothers next to him, couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Just because this one girl in his college class had looked at him and decided that she was going to help fix his heart, he was getting married. Bruce, for once, didn’t look broken-hearted at a wedding as Selina smiled proudly from the front row seat. 

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing.

Marinette, in her beautiful, white ballgown, arm-in-arm with her father, bit her lip, trying not to cry and ruin her makeup. In their relationship, Damian was wrong about one thing- Marinette didn’t fix her broken heart on her own. Damian was the one who mended her broken heart- The thought of Damian eating her macarons- And when he told her to promise to make those macarons for him for the rest of their lives- That, was the very moment that Marinette’s heart blossomed again. 

They were each other’s exceptions. 

---

I am not kidding you I CRIED WHILE REREADING THIS that is how emotional i am people and whoop am i getting a hold of my procrastination! I wrote a chapter of lord bug robin and kitty noir- And it was a mighty long chapter, too, and then i wrote this. Whoaaaaa i did a lot of writing for one day~ I’ve been writing since like, after lunch, and now, it’s almost six (Where i’m from it’s almost six) and i’ve been writing for like... Six hours. *claps self on back and gives self reward sticker* and if i tagged you and you didn’t want to be tagged I'm sowy :( i just copied the tag lists from my lord bug and hogwarts au... Sowy if you didn’t want to be tagged... And I'm a hundred percent sure that some people were tagged twice... Anyways love y’all <3

(Tag list! @yin-390 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog@constancetruggle@the-navistar-carol @never-neverland @rayray384@mystery-5-5 @black-streak@bluerosette23 @seraphichana @you-will-never-know-how-i-think@mikantsume @graduatedmelon@thebookwormfairy@crazylittlemunchkin@shizukiryuu @screamingtofillthevoid@serenacross200@zestyzealot@redscarlet95 @roseinbloom02 @beautym3@resignedcatservant@sizzling-fairy-oil @tinybrie @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry@lunar-wolf-warrior@northernbluetongue @dannyelric301 @daminett4life@loysydark @sparkle9510@erick-rose99-stuff @nataladriana9 @maya-custodios-dionach @myazael @sassakitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @emootaku-666)

Tag list: @kceedraws @constancetruggle  @ellerahs @2sunchild2 @mystery-5-5 @ki117h3dr4g0n @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @tbehartoo @resignedcatservant @im-here-for-the-content @mooshoon @darkened-flame @spicybelladonna @whomthefyck @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @xxmadamjinxx @rhub4rb @a-marlene-s @mochinek0 @zalladane @t-nikki10 @angelicbookfangirl  @politelyvicious @mikantsume @iggy-of-fans @shizukiryuu @littleredrobinhoodlum @thebananathatwrites @my-name-is-michell @7-sage-7 @linnyalou @ladylb @particularlygeeky @vivilakitty @iglowinggemma28 @alexzandria-747 @luciferge @lunar-wolf-warrior @aurordraws @urbanpineapplefarmer @clumsy-owl-4178 @creator-josie @driftingmoonlitpetals @fiendsangelical @mjisntme @two-faced-biatch @thecatnipmademedoit @northernbluetongue

#damian wayne mlbdc #marinette dupaincheng mlbdc #i nearly cried writing this btw if anyone was wondering #the only exception #paramore #mlbdc #mlb x dc #miraculous ladybug x dc #daminette #damian wayne x marinette dupain cheng #bruce wayne mlbdc #poor baby bruce #talia al ghul mlbdc #I'm crying guys

[starrosefics-archive]

Treasure Bin- Chapter 1

Summary: MK hears about his great-aunt’s passing, Macaque gets back in contact with some old friends, and MK gets a call from his sister.

Notes: @watermelonjuicee wrote a fic based on one of my posts and I’ve been riding that happy high since yesterday. Go check it out.

Prologue

-_-

MK woke up to come down to a quiet restaurant.

That wasn’t unusual at the early hour and Tang only on his second bowl, he had been finding out. He had been falling asleep faster at night, which had been allowing him to wake up earlier. It had been agreed that this was due to his increased physical activity as the Monkie Kid. (Pigsy, much to his delight, had been giving him bigger portions of food to help.)

But this was a different silence. He opened his mouth to ask when his eyes landed on the newspaper. Tang grabbed it, but it was too late.

WEALTHY SPINSTER PASSED

He froze, heart not sure whether it wanted to sink or start running like a rabbit. He knew the woman that the article was talking about. 

For a moment, MK was back to feeling a wrinkled hand run through his hair, an aged voice cooing You’re our most precious treasure, starshine-

“-MK.”

It was Pigsy’s voice, calm and certain, that drew him back. MK tried a shaky smile. (The chef noticed the shakiness and added it to the mental list of ‘reasons to look up therapists’.) “Sorry.” He nodded to the article. “Great- She- dead?” Tang, thankfully, understood.

“Three days ago.” He thought before offering the article, relief passing over his face when the younger man shook his head. “They kept it secret until she could be buried.” Pigsy snatched it away, crumbling it up and throwing it at the recycling.

“C’mon kid, it doesn’t matter. Kitchen.”

“Yes sir.” MK said, thoughts already moving away from his former family and to helping Pigsy prepare.

Well, his thoughts attempted to move away.

He was stuck puzzling over Great Aunt Tetra all day. He greeted Mei when she poked her head in, did deliveries, and took orders, but it was all on autopilot. Sure, he didn’t like the woman- no. Dislike wasn’t the word to describe it. But he had known her.

Eventually, he had some free time to slip away to Flower Fruit Mountain. As he climbed the peak, he considered every angle until his brain landed on one question.

How was Bao taking it?

-_-

Princess Iron Fan was careful.

Being careful was often the only thing saving you from the forces of Heaven or whatever came. That was the lesson she had taught Red Son. So, as the world changed, both of them were careful with money. Both of them were careful with resources. And Iron Fan, most of all, was careful with places.

The small palace that the Demon Bull family now inhabited was the same palace DBK had lived in centuries ago, back when they were preparing for his strike against the Monkey King. The same strike that ultimately landed him under a mountain. His wife and son had lived there for a few years before moving to the city, but Iron Fan had been careful to keep a few servants in the hidden complex to keep it updated.

After the mess that the last lair had been left in, everyone was glad for that one.

Especially Red Son.

He sat in his room, staring at a bracelet. It was a cuff bracelet, made out of gold with one small ruby. The jewel itself matched the headband of a certain boy. He twirled the piece absently, considering the implications that hadn’t filled his head when he had started crafting the gift.

There was a knock on the door. Red let out a yelp, trying to both stuff the bracelet into his pocket and scramble off the bed. "Come in!" He managed out eventually, smoothing his shirt down.

The door opened, revealing a servant. He straightened, trying to look like the cool and confident prince he was. “Your parents request your presence.” they said with a bowed head. Red Son nodded, not trusting his voice.

He stalked out of his room, keeping his head high. It was probably to talk over plans, he supposed. There had been some silent agreement to not talk about the White Bone Spirit at the moment. But his thoughts kept wandering.

To his enraged father.

To the cry of traitor.

To MK-

A chuckle broke him out of his thoughts. Red Son looked around, confused and a little wary due to the said spirit. There was a tap on his shoulder and he let out a shout. On instinct, his fist slammed out before slamming into a hand. There was another chuckle.

“Jumpy, kid?”

He drew back. “Macaque.” he said, giving a respectful bow of his head. The dark-furred immortal chuckled, eyes glowing. “Excuse me. I...”

“We weren’t expecting you here, Macaque.” His mother’s voice broke the tension as she strode down the hallway, his father following. Her face was frozen into one of politeness and he couldn’t blame her. Given his and Monkey King’s past...relationship, it was hard to determine if he was now friend or foe. “What brings you.”

Unannounced was the word Iron Fan didn’t use.

“Iron Fan!” Macaque said, striding forward to meet her. He grabbed her hand to press a chaste kiss to it. “Can’t a guy come visit some old friends?” She drew her hand away. “Anyway, I’ve heard about your difficulties.”

“There are no difficulties at the moment.” his mother said stiffly.

Macaque chuckled. “Denial. But I’ve brought all of us a chance.” He pulled out a jar, full of what Red Son could only describe as slime. “One of the few sorceresses in the world left us three days ago.” Everyone stared at the information as Macaque swirled the jar. “But she did manage to leave us this.” He snapped his fingers. “And we still have a guide.”

Out of the shadows, probably carried by one of his shadow clones, a girl tied up was thrown. She looked to be a few years older then Red, dressed in a teal sweater and white leggings, and covered in soot. She also looked completely pissed. Macaque stepped forward, ignoring how she was struggling against her bonds, and pulled out the gag.

She coughed, clearly getting used to the freedom of speech, before ignoring everyone except Macaque. “I told you already, I have no idea exactly what that does! It could make the Monkey King loopy or it could kill him! It could blow us up! I! Have! No idea!”

His mother grabbing her shoulder stopped the struggles. “Ah ah ah! Except you do!” Macaque pulled out an aging journal. He paused. “Excuse me, I’m being rude. Everyone, meet the Monkie Kid’s older sister, Bao.”

MK had an older sister?

“And you better not touch a hair on his head!” Bao yelled, struggling against her bonds again. “Look, I might know what that stuff is supposed to do, but I have no idea if it does and you f-”

Macaque pulled out his staff.

She went silent.

“This stuff,” He explained to his audience, holding up the glowing jar. “Is a special spell that her great aunt developed. For lack of a better word, it’s a virus that loosens their controls, like under the influence of alcohol. Which means that they’re easy to catch and control.”

Red stepped forward, considering the jar. “And what do you want?” he voiced.

Macaque grinned harder. “Simple. To work with you to create a trap for both Wukong and MK. She,” Bao grunted as he gave her a kick. “Is the current owner of a huge warehouse full of magical artifacts. Artifacts that will be useful to you and...” He leaned forward, eyes lighting up. “Especially to the brat. I get Wukong to undo whatever that monk did to him. You get MK-”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

“SHUT UP!”

“Shutting up.”

“As I was saying, you get MK for whatever you want.” Macaque said, smoothing back his hair from where it had fluffed up. Red Son's thoughts whirled, all circling around the bracelet in his pocket. He didn't move, however. Instead, he watched his parents before Iron Fan finally nodded. “Great! As for you!”

Bao winced as he reached...to untie her. She blinked when the bonds came loose and he pulled out a phone. “Call your brother. I told you, you’ll come with us but at the end of it, you’re going free.”

She glared but typed in the number.

-_-

“My great aunt’s dead.”

Wukong let out a yelp. MK couldn’t blame him- it had come out of nowhere. They were in the middle of after-spar meditation, but he couldn’t keep it down. “I...” the immortal said after a moment. “I’m sorry- wait, no. Your great aunt, from what I saw, was a bitch.”

“I know!” MK said it in a burst. “God, I hated her when I left. But she’s still my blood and I...I don’t know? Feel sad?” He stood, starting to pace. “She thought I couldn’t do a thing for myself, just because I couldn’t do magic like her or Bao or my parents! But she...I don’t know.” He sat back down, staring at his hands. “She still loved me. Kinda.”

His mentor stared before letting out a sigh. “Kid...you shouldn’t think about this. You left because she was your family and she was unhealthy. You shouldn’t let the family part weigh you down-”

There was a ringing. MK pulled out his phone. The number niggled at his memory, but he didn’t remember where. With a shrug at Wukong, he answered. “Hello?”

“Star- MK?”

“BAO?!” On instinct and encouraged by Wukong’s frantic waves, MK moved to end the call.

“Wait, wait, wait- I left!”

He paused. “What?”

“I left Mom and Dad. And...that’s why I’m calling you. Auntie left the shop to me.”

He blinked before moving forward. “That’s great. But I don’t want you in my life, so...”

“I want to make amends.”

He paused again. “What?”

“I...I’m calling. Because I want to make amends.” The words were awkward and the silence was long. Long enough that MK could barely make out a few taps, repeating over and over again. “The White Bone Spirit’s still loose, right? There’s some artifacts here that could help you.”

More tapping. A pattern, repeating over and over again.

“Okay.” MK hadn’t realized he had said it before Bao was talking again.

“Great! That- that’s great! Most of it is in this other warehouse, down north, but Auntie had a portal. I’ll leave instructions and I’ll meet you there, cool?”

He nodded before realizing she couldn’t see. “Yeah. Cool. Bye.”

“...Bye. Dress up warm!” Then the call was over and MK was left staring at his phone. Wukong let out a whistle, startling his student.

“Well, that was a trainwreck-”

“Bao’s in trouble.”

#Monkie Kid #spicynoodleshipping #shadowpeach #mk #macaque #red son #sun wukong

[starsfic]

Treasure Bin- Chapter 1

Summary: MK hears about his great-aunt’s passing, Macaque gets back in contact with some old friends, and MK gets a call from his sister.

Notes: Reposted from my old blog. @purble-turble

-_-

MK woke up to come down to a quiet restaurant.

That wasn’t unusual at the early hour and Tang only on his second bowl, he had been finding out. He had been falling asleep faster at night, which had been allowing him to wake up earlier. It had been agreed that this was due to his increased physical activity as the Monkie Kid. (Pigsy, much to his delight, had been giving him bigger portions of food to help.)

But this was a different silence. He opened his mouth to ask when his eyes landed on the newspaper. Tang grabbed it, but it was too late.

WEALTHY SPINSTER PASSED

He froze, heart not sure whether it wanted to sink or start running like a rabbit. He knew the woman that the article was talking about.

For a moment, MK was back to feeling a wrinkled hand run through his hair, an aged voice cooing You’re our most precious treasure, starshine-

“-MK.”

It was Pigsy’s voice, calm and certain, that drew him back. MK tried a shaky smile. (The chef noticed the shakiness and added it to the mental list of ‘reasons to look up therapists’.) “Sorry.” He nodded to the article. “Great- She- dead?” Tang, thankfully, understood.

“Three days ago.” He thought before offering the article, relief passing over his face when the younger man shook his head. “They kept it secret until she could be buried.” Pigsy snatched it away, crumbling it up and throwing it at the recycling.

“C’mon kid, it doesn’t matter. Kitchen.”

“Yes sir.” MK said, thoughts already moving away from his former family and to helping Pigsy prepare.

Well, his thoughts attempted to move away.

He was stuck puzzling over Great Aunt Tetra all day. He greeted Mei when she poked her head in, did deliveries, and took orders, but it was all on autopilot. Sure, he didn’t like the woman- no. Dislike wasn’t the word to describe it. But he had known her.

Eventually, he had some free time to slip away to Flower Fruit Mountain. As he climbed the peak, he considered every angle until his brain landed on one question.

How was Bao taking it?

-_-

Princess Iron Fan was careful.

Being careful was often the only thing saving you from the forces of Heaven or whatever came. That was the lesson she had taught Red Son. So, as the world changed, both of them were careful with money. Both of them were careful with resources. And Iron Fan, most of all, was careful with places.

The small palace that the Demon Bull family now inhabited was the same palace DBK had lived in centuries ago, back when they were preparing for his strike against the Monkey King. The same strike that ultimately landed him under a mountain. His wife and son had lived there for a few years before moving to the city, but Iron Fan had been careful to keep a few servants in the hidden complex to keep it updated.

After the mess that the last lair had been left in, everyone was glad for that one.

Especially Red Son.

He sat in his room, staring at a bracelet. It was a cuff bracelet, made out of gold with one small ruby. The jewel itself matched the headband of a certain boy. He twirled the piece absently, considering the implications that hadn’t filled his head when he had started crafting the gift.

There was a knock on the door. Red let out a yelp, trying to both stuff the bracelet into his pocket and scramble off the bed. “Come in!” He managed out eventually, smoothing his shirt down.

The door opened, revealing a servant. He straightened, trying to look like the cool and confident prince he was. “Your parents request your presence.” they said with a bowed head. Red Son nodded, not trusting his voice.

He stalked out of his room, keeping his head high. It was probably to talk over plans, he supposed. There had been some silent agreement to not talk about the White Bone Spirit at the moment. But his thoughts kept wandering.

To his enraged father.

To the cry of traitor.

To MK-

A chuckle broke him out of his thoughts. Red Son looked around, confused and a little wary due to the said spirit. There was a tap on his shoulder and he let out a shout. On instinct, his fist slammed out before slamming into a hand. There was another chuckle.

“Jumpy, kid?”

He drew back. “Macaque.” he said, giving a respectful bow of his head. The dark-furred immortal chuckled, eyes glowing. “Excuse me. I…”

“We weren’t expecting you here, Macaque.” His mother’s voice broke the tension as she strode down the hallway, his father following. Her face was frozen into one of politeness and he couldn’t blame her. Given his and Monkey King’s past…relationship, it was hard to determine if he was now friend or foe. “What brings you.”

Unannounced was the word Iron Fan didn’t use.

“Iron Fan!” Macaque said, striding forward to meet her. He grabbed her hand to press a chaste kiss to it. “Can’t a guy come visit some old friends?” She drew her hand away. “Anyway, I’ve heard about your difficulties.”

“There are no difficulties at the moment.” his mother said stiffly.

Macaque chuckled. “Denial. But I’ve brought all of us a chance.” He pulled out a jar, full of what Red Son could only describe as slime. “One of the few sorceresses in the world left us three days ago.” Everyone stared at the information as Macaque swirled the jar. “But she did manage to leave us this.” He snapped his fingers. “And we still have a guide.”

Out of the shadows, probably carried by one of his shadow clones, a girl tied up was thrown. She looked to be a few years older then Red, dressed in a teal sweater and white leggings, and covered in soot. She also looked completely pissed. Macaque stepped forward, ignoring how she was struggling against her bonds, and pulled out the gag.

She coughed, clearly getting used to the freedom of speech, before ignoring everyone except Macaque. “I told you already, I have no idea exactly what that does! It could make the Monkey King loopy or it could kill him! It could blow us up! I! Have! No idea!”

His mother grabbing her shoulder stopped the struggles. “Ah ah ah! Except you do!” Macaque pulled out an aging journal. He paused. “Excuse me, I’m being rude. Everyone, meet the Monkie Kid’s older sister, Bao.”

MK had an older sister?

“And you better not touch a hair on his head!” Bao yelled, struggling against her bonds again. “Look, I might know what that stuff is supposed to do, but I have no idea if it does and you f-”

Macaque pulled out his staff.

She went silent.

“This stuff,” He explained to his audience, holding up the glowing jar. “Is a special spell that her great aunt developed. For lack of a better word, it’s a virus that loosens their controls, like under the influence of alcohol. Which means that they’re easy to catch and control.”

Red stepped forward, considering the jar. “And what do you want?” he voiced.

Macaque grinned harder. “Simple. To work with you to create a trap for both Wukong and MK. She,” Bao grunted as he gave her a kick. “Is the current owner of a huge warehouse full of magical artifacts. Artifacts that will be useful to you and…” He leaned forward, eyes lighting up. “Especially to the brat. I get Wukong to undo whatever that monk did to him. You get MK-”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

“SHUT UP!”

“Shutting up.”

“As I was saying, you get MK for whatever you want.” Macaque said, smoothing back his hair from where it had fluffed up. Red Son’s thoughts whirled, all circling around the bracelet in his pocket. He didn’t move, however. Instead, he watched his parents before Iron Fan finally nodded. “Great! As for you!”

Bao winced as he reached…to untie her. She blinked when the bonds came loose and he pulled out a phone. “Call your brother. I told you, you’ll come with us but at the end of it, you’re going free.”

She glared but typed in the number.

-_-

“My great aunt’s dead.”

Wukong let out a yelp. MK couldn’t blame him- it had come out of nowhere. They were in the middle of after-spar meditation, but he couldn’t keep it down. “I…” the immortal said after a moment. “I’m sorry- wait, no. Your great aunt, from what I saw, was a bitch.”

“I know!” MK said it in a burst. “God, I hated her when I left. But she’s still my blood and I…I don’t know? Feel sad?” He stood, starting to pace. “She thought I couldn’t do a thing for myself, just because I couldn’t do magic like her or Bao or my parents! But she…I don’t know.” He sat back down, staring at his hands. “She still loved me. Kinda.”

His mentor stared before letting out a sigh. “Kid…you shouldn’t think about this. You left because she was your family and she was unhealthy. You shouldn’t let the family part weigh you down-”

There was a ringing. MK pulled out his phone. The number niggled at his memory, but he didn’t remember where. With a shrug at Wukong, he answered. “Hello?”

“Star- MK?”

“BAO?!” On instinct and encouraged by Wukong’s frantic waves, MK moved to end the call.

“Wait, wait, wait- I left!”

He paused. “What?”

“I left Mom and Dad. And…that’s why I’m calling you. Auntie left the shop to me.”

He blinked before moving forward. “That’s great. But I don’t want you in my life, so…”

“I want to make amends.”

He paused again. “What?”

“I…I’m calling. Because I want to make amends.” The words were awkward and the silence was long. Long enough that MK could barely make out a few taps, repeating over and over again. “The White Bone Spirit’s still loose, right? There’s some artifacts here that could help you.”

More tapping. A pattern, repeating over and over again.

“Okay.” MK hadn’t realized he had said it before Bao was talking again.

“Great! That- that’s great! Most of it is in this other warehouse, down north, but Auntie had a portal. I’ll leave instructions and I’ll meet you there, cool?”

He nodded before realizing she couldn’t see. “Yeah. Cool. Bye.”

“…Bye. Dress up warm!” Then the call was over and MK was left staring at his phone. Wukong let out a whistle, startling his student.

“Well, that was a trainwreck-”

“Bao’s in trouble.”

#Monkie Kid #Lego Monkie Kid #Treasure Bin #Spicynoodleshipping #MK #Red Son #Macaque #Princess Iron Fan #Tang #Pigsy #Sun Wukong #Qi Xiaotian

[bgn846]

The Fight

Unable to keep his footing, Ignis could only brace for the impact when the alpha charged at him. It hurt, but he wasn’t down for the count yet. Swinging his legs out briskly sent the alpha down on his back with a thud. The guy barely twitched before he was back up on his feet.  He was persistent, Ignis could give him that.

Groaning at what had been a nice calming break fifteen minutes before, Ignis vaulted himself back up to standing and summoned his pole arm bringing it down on the man’s shoulder. Maybe the asshole would stay down now. No such luck, apparently getting hit with a metal pole merely energized the man. He screamed out some sort of feral battle cry and rushed forward once more.

This had to stop, Ignis was getting tired. His mates were still busy guarding Noct so Ignis was on his own for this fight. The last thing he’d expected was to get attacked by some raging alpha idiot. He’d simply slipped out the back door to get some fresh air. There had been too many alpha’s in a small space, he needed to get away.

They were at a new restaurant for shiva’s sake. A normal eatery in the fancy part of Insomnia that happened to have been constructed entirely with recycled materials, hence, Noct’s visit for the ribbon cutting.  All of that had gone according to plan; it was the celebratory party afterwards that had given Ignis trouble.  All the overbearing scents and raucous laughter were too much. Not to mention the amount of alcohol present.  Why was this party so rowdy?

The excessive drinking was also to blame for Ignis’ current predicament. The one drunk alpha who felt he was entitled to a piece of omega never went well. Ignis could defend himself, he wasn’t without skills. This alpha, however, needed to go away.  Not wanting to outright maim the man Ignis had gone a little easy, now, though as the alpha charged once again, Ignis rethought this tactic. He was already tired and this wasn’t helping.

Raising his weapon Ignis prepared to strike the alpha again. A flash of blue light erupted out of his peripheral causing him to flinch. A second later Noct appeared in front of him and blocked the hit from the larger alpha. The prince moved gracefully and quickly gained the upper hand. Warping from one side to the other helped confuse the other alpha and soon enough Noct had landed several kicks to the man’s abdomen.

Normally Ignis wouldn’t just stand idle when Noct was in danger, but from where he stood panting for breath it seemed as though Noct was doing fine.  He wasn’t left watching alone for long, Prompto appeared by his side a moment later, gun drawn, but pointed downward. Quickly looking back to the fight, Ignis was able to witness the final blow. Noct summoned his father’s sword, the one he’d been gifted on his twenty first birthday, and spun through the air with the precision years of training will offer.

Noct easily connected the pommel with the man’s temple; the alpha crumpled instantly and fell to the ground.  It was only after the assailant stayed down, unmoving, did Ignis dismiss his own weapon. Backing up slightly caused him to bump into Gladio. Ignis hadn’t even been aware his mate was so close. Opting to lean back Ignis let Gladio wrap his arms around his waist.

Ignis caught a glimpse of how enraged Noct was when he turned and stalked over. His magenta colored eye’s were trained on his own.  “Did he hurt you?” Noct seethed as he came to a halt in front of Ignis.

“Nothing that won’t heal in a few days,” Ignis managed in between breaths.

“Who is he?” Noct demanded.

“I believe he’s the driver for one of the developers.”

“He’s getting arrested and charged with assault,” Noct angrily added as he took a deep breath. “Why were you out here?” he asked with a tone that meant he was serious.

“I needed some fresh air, I’m sorry highness, there were too many alp--.”

Noct’s eyes widened and he quickly dropped his hardened expression, “Shit, sorry I’m not mad I just wanted to know all the details. Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Before he was able to respond, the door to the building behind them opened, and several other people spilled out into the rear parking lot area. This of course was followed by even more people coming out to investigate. Needless to say, the night ended up dragging on as they waited for things to be dealt with properly. The police came, interviews were given, security footage was reviewed and the man was arrested.  

Turns out he was a known offender that liked having his way with omegas. This time however, he picked on the wrong omega. The adrenaline rush had long since worn off as they all made their way to the limo to go home. Ignis could honestly say he was exhausted. Thankfully, his pack hadn’t left his side since the incident. For once they had a driver as well, which allowed Ignis to nestle in the backseat with Noct and Prompto on either side. Gladio seemed to know he wouldn’t fit and he took the seat opposite and simply watched.  His warm smile was enough to appease Ignis until he could hug his alpha again.

The drive was a blur as they headed back home, Ignis was still amped to sleep so he instead watched the scenery wiz by. They’d be back and out of the public eye soon enough. The only thing left to figure out was what to do when they arrived. A hot shower sounded divine but Ignis wasn’t so sure his mates would let him go it alone. That was the only fault at being the lone omega in the pack, they doted on him and even more so when things like this happened.

Not that Ignis was upset at their clingy behavior, he secretly loved it. However, his energy level was reaching its limits and he needed to rest. It seemed his exhaustion was more obvious than he’d realized when Noct and Prompto both refused to let him go on the walk up to the suite.

“I’m alright,” he tried feebly as they manhandled him into the elevator.

“Don’t even try, we’re not letting go,” Noct pouted as he smashed the button for their floor.

Sighing fondly Ignis let himself be pulled around.  It wasn’t until they’d reached the front door did Ignis realize what Gladio had been doing. His normally very cuddly alpha was working, his eyes scanning every hallway and dark corner. Figures, he was still on guard, Ignis had to work hard not to keen lovingly out loud at the gesture. Ignis knew that once they were safely inside Gladio would loosen up, but for now it was making his inner omega swoon mightily. The moment the door was closed and locked behind them everything changed. Prompto tackled him for a bone crushing hug and wouldn’t let go.

“Ow,” Ignis huffed softly.

“Shit, sorry!” Prompto exclaimed

“Come on, we are all jumping in the shower and then it’s out to the hot tub on the deck,” Gladio proclaimed as he herded them down the hallway and towards the master bathroom.

“The hot tub?! At this hour, surely you’re joking,” Ignis blurted as he was dragged along.

“Why the hell not, we all want to cuddle you and the hot water will help loosen your muscles up.” Gladio offered.

“It’s nearly three am and I’m barely keeping my eyes open.”

“Prompto can you go turn the jets on and get the cover off?” Gladio instructed ignoring his worries. “Iggy, babe, you are allowed to fall asleep in the hot tub ya know that right?”

“Yes, yes, but I’ll get all pruny.”

“Gladio’s right it’ll help you relax, after that fight especially,” Noct added as he stepped forward to help Gladio undress him.  “Besides we can’t all fit in the bath together, the hot tub will be better.”

Ignis had no time to form an argument in favor of sleeping instead. He was whisked away to the shower where all three of his mates, Prompto had returned from his mission by this time, miraculously fit into the shower stall together. The hot water felt so nice and Ignis couldn’t help but pull the nearest body close to lean on.  

“Careful, you’re gonna make me fall over,” Noct whined as he reached out to steady himself.

Humming in response Ignis simply enjoyed the warmth and let Prompto and Gladio wash away the dirt.  He’d all but forgotten that his pale skin was starting to show bruising from the fight, when Noct sighed mournfully.

“I wish we’d been there to help you fight that asshole,” the prince lamented.

“Though based off the footage I saw you were really giving it to him,” Prompto added with a hint of awe. “Like you hit him with a pole arm and he didn’t stop. Plus you kicked him a ton and he still didn’t slow down.”

“He was the true definition of aggressive, I’ll give you that,” Ignis muttered from where he had his nose buried in Noct’s neck.

“Oh but guys, guess what, guess what,” Prompto enthused suddenly, distracting them from talking about the awful alpha.

“Oh no, I know that tone, you’ve done something,” Gladio sighed as he reached out and ruffled Prompto’s wet hair.

“I drew the curtains on the patio so we could jump in naked!” the blond added excitedly.

Noct jumped up a little and Ignis could tell he was smiling. “Nice one buddy!”

“So we ready?” Gladio asked as he leaned over to shut the water off. “We’ve got an omega to cuddle.”

Despite having his eyes closed Ignis rolled them for good measure. Reluctantly pulling away from his prince Ignis barely had time to react when Gladio swept him up off his feet and headed out of the bathroom. “Gladio! You’re still wet!”

“Yeah and what’s the point of drying off when we’ll be jumping in the hot tub?”

“The floor is getting dripped on!” Ignis whined pitifully. Though truthfully it didn’t matter, the floors were all tile and they were all clean.  His only worry was Gladio slipping but he’d already made it out onto the patio and was climbing up over the edge and into the blissfully hot water. Six, Ignis needed this.  

“Hey big guy you gonna share?” Prompto asked as he joined them and waded over to sit next to their alpha.

“I think we should all get turns holding Iggy,” Noct supplied as he climbed in and immediately ducked his head under the water. Coming up a second later he floated closer and wedged himself in between Gladio’s legs and wrapped his arms around Ignis’ waist.  

It didn’t take long and Ignis could feel himself drifting off. Gladio was still cradling him like a baby which didn’t help matters. He always fell asleep when Gladio held him. His remaining waking moments kept occurring when he’d get passed off to one of his mates. First he awoke to Noct hugging him and rubbing all over his scent gland. Unable to keep from giggling, as it tickled, Ignis turned his head and went back to relaxing.

He somehow missed getting out of the hot tub, and his next waking moment was Prompto pulling him close in their stupidly large bed.  Returning the gesture, Ignis hugged his beta tightly. He felt warm and his mind was finally at ease over the evenings events. The hot tub had done the trick, releasing all the tension from his aching muscles.

“Sleep, you’re safe,” Gladio whispered from nearby as the bed dipped.  Soon a strong arm was wrapped around his midsection.

“Wh’s Noct?” Ignis managed as he tried to see in the dark.

“M’here,” came the muffled reply.

Ignis realized that both of his alphas were on the outside edge of the bed. Gladio was behind him and Noct was spooning Prompto. Smiling at the protective behavior Ignis let his mind shut down. Sleep claimed him almost immediately after that. There was nothing left to fret about, he was safe.  

#ffxv #fanfic #ignis #ot4 #alpha beta omega

[katefiction]

Breaking Up

by katefiction (Maria) / 2012

Will parked up outside Kate’s Chelsea flat. A couple of hours earlier she’d text him, ‘can you come over, we need to talk x’, it said. Just one ‘x’ at the end, Will had thought, she must be angry. So he hadn’t called her for two days, it wasn’t a big deal.

Will let himself into the flat. Kate had given him a key when she moved there. He walked through the hall and into the kitchen, where Kate was standing boiling the kettle.

‘You want one?’ She asked.

‘What, no “hello”? I haven’t spoken to you in two days!’, Will replied, laughing.

‘And whose fault is that?’ She mumbled back.

Will opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of annoying her further, so simply replied ‘Yeh, a tea would be nice’.

They settled into the living room once the tea was made. There had been no kiss or hug, and Will was beginning to wonder what was going on.

‘I think we should break up’, Kate said as soon as they sat down.

‘What?’ Will said, in shock,

‘Don’t act so surprised, you knew this was coming’ Kate replied softly.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Kate. What’s going on?’ Will touched her leg to try to comfort her, but she shifted in her seat.

Kate’s eyes began to well up. She had told herself not to cry, that this was the right thing to do.

‘I’m…I’m just not happy’ She said.

‘Well we can sort that out, what can I do? Is it the stuff with my family? I thought you were ok with waiting to get engaged?’ The words rushed out of William’s mouth.

‘I dont want to get engaged!’ Kate said, angrily. ‘And it’s not your family, Will, it’s you’ She said, a tear falling down her cheek. Will was silent, he thought they were happy together.

‘You don’t care about my life, not really’ Kate said, back in control of her emotions. ‘Just let me speak Will’, she said as Will tried to deny her accusation.

‘Take last week’ she said. ‘You called me at work to ask me to meet you in the afternoon, and I was working that day’.

‘I didn’t know you were working, did I?!’ Will yelled, angry that she was making a big deal of that.

‘That’s the whole point Will! You don’t have a CLUE about my life or schedule, or which days I’m working! I know every single detail of your schedule, and you can’t even be bothered to ask me about mine!’

She was on a roll now.

‘I come to your stupid polo matches that I’m not even interested in, just because I know I’ll never see you otherwise. I take an interest in every part of your life. But YOU, no YOU are far to busy to call me, or text me, or ask me how I am!’

‘That’s not true, Kate, you knew this would be hard. I do my best’ He said, teeth gritted.

Kate stood up and took a breath turning from him. She had pictures of the two of them all over the living room. On holidays, with friends, at home. Pictures everywhere. She realised she’d have to take them all down.

‘I’m moving back home’ She admitted finally. She was dreading telling him that she’d quit her job and was moving back to Berkshire to work for the family. It would mean they’d be even further away.

‘And you didn’t think to talk to me about this?’ Will said, furious now.

‘We’re living separate lives anyway’ She whispered.

‘Fine.’ Will slammed the mug of tea onto the coffee table and stormed out of the flat.

***

Kate sat in the middle of her bedroom, clothes spread out all around her in messy piles. She sat staring at the wall.

‘Kate, what the…?’ Kate jumped as her mother walked in. ‘Did you just empty the contents of your suitcases all over the floor?’ Carole said, shaking her head at the mess.

It had been two weeks since Kate had told William that she was moving back to Bucklebury. In that time, she had been living in a daze, going back and forth to London, emptying her things from her Chelsea flat; and working her notice at Jigsaw.

Kate shrugged, not really taking in what her mother had said. Carole knelt beside her daughter. ’Look, I know you’re hurting, but you need to pick yourself up.’

‘How?’ Kate chocked on the word, her eyes filling with tears.

Carole stroked Kate’s hair from her face, ‘Well we can start with this room’, she smiled, ‘and then tomorrow , you can start work at the office.’

‘I guess I should keep busy’, Kate agreed, her voice coming back.

‘Exactly – now how about we start with throwing this old thing out’, Carole said, holding up a large purple polo shirt.

‘No!’, Kate grabbed the shirt. She may have been ready to start putting herself back together, but she wasn’t ready to throw Will’s polo shirt out. She decided her mother didn’t need to know who’s shirt it was just yet.

                                               *****

The next morning, Kate pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, and pulled her hair back. She couldn’t be bothered with make up today. In fact, she hadn’t been bothered about making any effort with her looks since leaving Will.

She walked into the kitchen where her dad was sitting at the breakfast bar, ‘oh, you’re up early’, he said, folding his newspaper in half and tucking it under his arm.

‘Yeh, I’m going to work’, she replied eyeing up the newspaper. ‘Dad, why are you hiding that paper under your arm?’

‘Urmmm, no reason’ He was a terrible liar.

Kate raised her eyebrow.

‘Ok, it’s just a stupid story about you’ he said ‘it’s nothing to worry about’.

Kate sighed, she still wasn’t used to the media attention. ‘What does it say Dad, just tell me.’

‘Well news of the break up is out, they’re claiming it was William who ended things’ Michael said nervously.

Kate closed her eyes. ‘You know what Dad, starting today, I’m not gonna read this stuff’, she said, resolve strong in her voice. ‘I don’t want to see any of it’. She grabbed the paper from under his arm and threw it into the recycling.

                                          ******

Kate spent the next week working at Party Pieces. On the outside, she seemed to be coping. She was sticking to her promise to herself not to read any stories about her or Will. But on the inside, she was suffering. Will hadn’t been in contact since that day he stormed out of the flat. She had text him telling him that she was sorry about how it had happened and saying she hoped they could be friends, but she’d had no reply.

At night she had often spent the early hours sobbing, while clutching that polo shirt. His smell had long since left it, but it still comforted her.

                                              ***

‘You know, he’s probably missing you just as much’, he friend Alice told her over the phone one evening.

‘Why, what have you heard?’, Kate said, trying to sound casual.

Alice giggled, ‘nothing, babe, I haven’t heard anything! Listen, did you get your invite to Sam’s party thing tomorrow?’ She said, changing the subject.

‘Yehhh’ Kate replied.

‘Well he was wondering if you were coming’

‘Of course not! William’s going to be there!’ Kate said indignantly.

‘But you’re missing him right?’ Alice replied, ‘Don’t you want to see him?’

‘Yes, of course I do, but he clearly doesn’t want to see me. I think it really hurt him, splitting the way we did.’

‘Ok, but you need to get out of that house!’ Alice teased. Kate had become somewhat of a recluse.

‘For your information, I’m going out to the pub tonight’, she said with mock pride.

‘With who?’

‘Urm, my parents’, she said twirling her hair.

‘For….?’ Alice enquired.

‘A pub quiz’, Kate said sheepishly.

Alice laughed, ‘you really are living on the edge, aren’t you?’

                                *****

It seemed the whole of Bucklebury was at the pub that night and Kate found that with the support of her friends and neighbours, she was enjoying herself for the first time in weeks.

‘Ok! Question four!’ the quiz master boomed, ‘who is currently second in line to the British throne?’

Kate’s face flushed and her parents looked round at her, worried at her reaction. She gave them a reluctant smile, and wrote down ‘Prince William’.

                               ***

At home that night as Mike and Carole complained to each other about the pub’s insensitive choice of question, Kate went straight to her room.

She realised it had been two and a half weeks since she had vowed to not read any press stories, and she had decided that it was long enough. She had neither read, or heard anything from friends about what William had been doing. She was so used to knowing his schedule that this was hard to deal with.

Sitting on her bed, she loaded up her laptop, and clicked into Google News. For the second time that night, she wrote ‘Prince William’, and hit the search button.

The first result hit her like a punch in the gut. The headline ‘Wills’ night with mystery blonde’ blared out at her. She clicked on the result leading her to the Sun website, which showed pictures of William dancing with a blonde girl in a club, his hands all over her. The byline read: ‘all thoughts of Kate Middleton disappear as Wills declares “I’m free!”’

Kate slammed the lid down, her heart was racing. ‘How could I be so stupid?’ she thought, ‘did I actually believe he was missing me?’ Holding the tears back, she thought of herself telling Alice how she believed William was hurting. She felt like a fool, and her anger began to rise.

There she was hiding away, barely dressing up for work, wondering if she had done the right thing, when William was out partying, and letting everyone believe that HE broke it off. She was no fool, but he was making her look like one.

She paced the room, furious now, before finally picking up the phone and punching in the contact. The call was answered in seconds, and Kate didn’t hesitate,

‘Alice? I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to that party.’

***

ate stood in front of the mirror and inspected her outfit. With her decision to go to the party being so last minute, it was the best she could do.

‘You out to break some hearts tonight?’ Alice said, strolling into the bedroom.

The purple knit dress an a scooped neckline and went to her knees. She topped it off with a black cropped jacket. ’It’ll do’ Kate retorted.

‘And I suppose your choice has nothing to do with Will being there tonight to enjoy it?’ Alice laughed.

‘William won’t be enjoying anything’, Kate snapped back.

Since calling Alice that night after discovering pictures online of Will dancing with a mystery blond, she had travelled to Oxfordshire from Bucklebury, and landed on Alice’s doorstep. But her anger had not subsided.

She applied the finishing touches to her make up, and with Alice, left for the party, knowing that she would have to face Will for the first time in weeks.

                                                ***

Thirty minutes later, and Alice had pulled up onto the make shift car park in a field on the Upton Viva estate, where Sam’s party was being held inside the manor. As Kate jumped out of the car, her heel sunk into five centremetres of mud.

‘Great! Just great!’ She grumbled.

‘It’s just a bit of mud, Kate!’ Alice teased.

‘I’ll remind you of that when you’re about to see your ex and are trying to look composed!’ she huffed.

Alice helped to pull her out of the mud. ‘You’ll be fine, babe. He won’t know what’s hit him’, she reassured her.

They walked up to the house where the party had already started. The ground floor hall was full of colour and sound, and a variety of Sam’s friends. Kate instinctivly began to scan the room for any sign of Will, when Sam jumped into her eyeline, ’You came!’ he said, bouncing towards her and giving her a peck on each cheek ‘you both look shhhplendid’.

He was clearly drunk, but Kate was delighted to see him and reconnect with those friends that had had to choose between her and Will after the break up. The truth was, most of them chose Will.

‘He’s in the living room’ Sam said with a wink, noticing her scanning the room again.

‘Thanks’ she blushed, as he bounced off to greet another guest. She hoped to God she didn’t look desperate as she felt.

‘I’m gonna get some food’ she told Alice, pointing to the kitchen.

‘Alright, I’ll be around if you need anything…Oh, and Kate…chin up’, she said, giving her a warm smile

As she walked to the kitchen, she glanced into the large living room, where loud music was blaring. There in the corner of the room, was Will, chatting to two of his friends. He looked up, and for a brief second,caught her eye, before she looked away, and rushed down the hall.

Kate hurried into the kitchen, which had food to choose from on every surface. She was breathing hard, trying to compose herself. Reaching for a bread stick, she took a deep breath.

‘I didn’t know you were coming tonight’, a voice said behind her. She whipped around, and saw Will standing just behind her.

‘Try not to look so disappointed’ She said, turning her back to him again. She felt him move in even closer.

‘Kate, don’t be like that, can we go somewhere and talk?’

‘About what?’ She said, aggressively dipping the bread stick in a dip.

‘About…everything’ Will said.

‘I have nothing to say’ Kate said, lying through her teeth. She moved to the left to try to get past him, but he stepped in front of her. She went right, and he did the same again.

‘Will, move!’

‘No.’

Kate was in no mood for games and pushed him to the side with her arm and walked out of the kitchen.

Entering the living room where Will had just been, she busied herself by greeting some friends. She found a spot to hide away in the corner, next to Will’s friend, Tom.

‘You looked like you’ve seen a ghost’ Tom noted.

‘Not quite’ Kate smiled ‘But thanks, good to know I look like crap!’

‘Oh, shush! Come on, you need to blow off some steam’, he said as he stood up, reaching his hand out to her. Kate took his hand and they made their way to the centre of the room to dance. The music was loud and fast. Kate had no idea what it was, but being twirled around the dance floor did the trick of relaxing her. Tom dipped her backwards and Kate let out a raucous laugh, just as William re-entered the room. He stopped in his tracks, darting his eyes between Tom and Kate.

‘What the hell are you playing at?’ Will snarled at Tom.

‘Just a dance mate’ Tom replied, patting him on the back. William shoved Tom backwards in return.

‘William!’ Kate shouted, pushing William away from Tom and staring him dead in the eyes. ‘Apologise. Now.’

William’s chest rose and fell sharply, trying to calm down, but he kept silent. Kate pushed through the crowd of people that were watching and hurried out of the house. Once out on the front lawn, she pulled her phone from her jacket pocket;

‘I need to go. Waiting by the car x’ she typed, and sent the message to Alice. She began walking to the car, squinting in the dark to find it, when she heard footsteps behind her.

‘Kate!’ William called as he jogged up behind her. ‘Wait, where are you going?!’

She carried on walking.

‘Would you stop and be mature about this?’, he called, catching up to her. Kate stopped suddenly, span around and crashed into William full on.

’Me be mature?!’ she screamed at him, ‘ME!?’

’Alright, I’m sorry, it just got to me’ Will said, relieved that she had stopped.

Kate laughed, ‘And I suppose pictures of you touching up that girl all over the internet is fine, is it?’

Will’s face dropped, ‘It’s not what it looked like’

’Don’t take me for an idiot, William. I have been stuck in my house, not going out. Not saying a word to anyone. For you! I thought I might get an ounce of respect in return!’

’YOU broke up with ME, remember?’ Will said, suddenly angry. ‘I should be the one who’s pissed off.’

Will may have been angry, but Kate was furious now. ‘You let the world believe that you ended things, then you go out to celebrate your new single life. What, was that your revenge?!’

Will rubbed his forehead ‘Look, I was trying to protect you, the media would leave you in peace eventually if they thought I broke it off.’

’What are you saying?’ Kate asked, dreading what was coming.

’I had it leaked that I dumped you’ he answered, staring at the ground.

’You did what?’ She whispered.

’I did it for you’

’Bullshit! You did it for yourself and your image. You couldn’t care less about what happens to me!’

’Of course I do’ he said, reaching out to hold her arm, but Kate snatched it away.

’Don’t you dare touch me! If you cared, you would have answered my texts, you would have checked to see if I was ok, you would have warned me about those pictures! But you did nothing! It just goes to show I made the right decision’

’Don’t say that’ Will pleaded. ‘I’ve missed you, Kate, we can deal with this’

’It’s too late’, she said, her anger turning into sadness. She looked him in the eyes. ‘I need someone I can trust, who will be there for me no matter what’

’I can. I will’ Will said.

’It’s over, Will’ she said with more certainty than she’d felt in months, and turned around to walk away. As she took a step into the mud, he heel once again plunged through the earth.

’Let me help’ Will said immediately, trying to pull her out, but she resisted;

’I can do it by myself!’ she said pulling away forcefully. As she did, she lost her balance and fell side first into the mud.

Just as Will extended his hand to help her up, Alice came running up behind him.

‘What is going on!? What have you done to her’ she said, aiming her anger at William.

‘Nothing! She fell’

‘It’s fine Alice, it was my stupid heel again’ she said as she accepted Alice’s hand and stood up, mud covering her dress. ‘I got your text, do you need some time?’ Alice said, glancing between them.

‘No, we’re done here’ Kate was looking straight at Will.

‘You sure?’ Alice asked.

‘Certain’ Kate said, fixing her gaze on William. ‘I’m done.’

With that, covered in mud, she turned around, and finally walked away, leaving William standing alone in the dark.

#katefiction #royal fanfiction #cambridge fanfiction #kate middleton

[ayellowcurtain]

Could you do something about the flat share being super protective afterwards and Sander coming to apologize and just fix it?? // and when Sander will push him away he's gonna isolate himself and he’s gonna self destruct soooooo can you write something about it?

It’s not at all an easy fix so I guess this will need some more parts...

---

His mom noticed his cut as soon as he got inside her bedroom on his first visit in a while, but she didn't insist when he said it was just an accident. Robbe’s phone is constantly off these days, Zoe is the only one that knows where he goes.

He was actually listening to his mom talk about her day, Robbe was trying to be present with his mom, sitting on a blue armchair, looking at her, with his feet on the white floor. Time flew by and Robbe didn't want to leave, he wanted to lie down with her and watch a movie, it didn't even have to be a good one, but he had to go. On every day of the week, he did the exact same thing.

He managed to stay just a little longer today, the nurse was nice enough to let him say goodbye for a very long time, she knew he didn't come to visit often.

The night was cold, but it was good to keep his mind busy, only worrying about keeping himself warm as he walked the long way back home, listening to music. He erased the playlist days ago and choose one that was as far away from that as possible.

It took almost double the time to get to his building, but unfortunately, he was freezing and he had to come inside, turning the notifications on his phone on again. It’s Friday and he receives a bunch of messages right away, but he just turns his phone off again and runs upstairs. He hasn’t really slept in days so he’s just trying to get his body tired enough to the point where he manages to close his eyes and disappear for days when he lies down.

Zoe found the beers hidden inside his closet days ago and Robbe didn’t have the strength to fight anymore, so he just told her. Everything. Thinking about it now that he is calmer, he can remember exactly how everything came out of his mouth without a warning. When he was done, he felt drained and she stayed with him for the entire night, worried that he could do something terrible.

He tried to tell her that he wasn’t going to do anything stupid, but she didn’t believe him. She slept on his bedroom that night and every few minutes ever since she has sent a message and if he doesn’t reply right away, she might call the cops to come after him and so he just answers even though he doesn’t feel like it.  

That night at the bridge was one single thought that took him there and he never thought about it again, but he feels helpless and empty inside. There’s not a single cell inside of him that wants to leave his bedroom ever again. He only goes to visit his mom because she’s the one to give him some kind of hope that someday, he might feel again. 

It’s hard to explain even for himself what it feels like. He hasn’t cried once, but that’s what people do when they’re at the bottom, right? Feeling like there’s no way out of their misery. Robbe doesn’t feel a thing. Maybe Sander taught him how to shut down completely, separating his mind from his heart. 

But Robbe is willing to try. He can’t keep getting drunk every night. His beers are gone and Zoe is constantly checking on him. So he needs to restart somewhere. 

Tonight, the first task that he gives himself is to clean his bedroom. It’s too cold outside, but he opens the windows anyway, letting some fresh and cold air get inside while he takes his sheet off, taking it to the laundry to wash. While everything is washing, he grabs the trash bag filled with empty beer cans and takes it to the recycling bin. 

While he waits for his lasagna to be ready, he stares at his phone. Before he can feel pity for himself, he deletes Sander’s number, their conversations and every photo that he has of Sander. 

The lasagna is not great, it’s a little cold in the middle, but he eats all of it anyway, washing the dishes as he drinks one of Senne’s fancy beers. He doesn’t wanna talk about it, Robbe can’t remember the last time he had an actual conversation with anyone else but Zoe and his mom, but he needs to explain what happened to Milan. Robbe is becoming a pro at hiding from everyone else, but he needs to talk to Milan and tell him everything.

In between their conversation in the bathroom that morning and seeing Sander back with his girlfriend, Robbe didn’t have the courage to tell him about why he was hurt a couple of weeks ago. He could see that Milan was worried and he’s smart and he’s gay, he probably has a very good guess of what happened to Robbe, but he waits for Robbe to be ready. And he’s not ready to talk, not at all, but he sits down and writes everything in a piece of paper, leaving it on Milan’s pillow.

Since he’s alone for the night and he hasn’t been the best flatmate, he decides to clean the entire apartment. He doesn’t feel like it, but he does it anyway. His music starts to bother him, like a mosquito following him, filling his ears with annoying noises so he turns it off, working in silence. 

Robbe moves every furniture to the middle of the living room, cleaning every inch as perfectly as he can, but someone knocks on the door, interrupting his activities. He thinks about ignoring, but he knows he’s making some noises dragging the furniture and maybe it’s just a neighbor that will politely ask him to do this during normal hours. 

As quickly as he opens the door, he closes it, but Sander stops him from doing it completely.

“Robbe, please, I just need to talk.” 

“We have nothing to talk about.” He pushes the door again and Sander pushes back, managing to get inside. 

“I’m sorry.” He starts and stops and Robbe doesn’t know what Sander is apologizing for. The list is so long he doesn’t care to know either. “I saw Britt and Noor talking and-” 

“I don’t care, Sander. Leave.” His eyes finally meet Robbe’s, he opens and closes his mouth, but decides to just walk closer first and Robbe steps back, away from him. 

“Robbe, I only meant to protect you. I’m too much fucking work and-” 

“I went to the police.” Sander stops trying to come closer, he puts his hands inside his pockets. 

“You...you did the right thing. I’m sorry about telling you to do it differently. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“We could have died that night, Sander. I thought I was dead. I never felt so scared in my life, but you looked so fucking chill the next morning that I thought it was ok. That we would somehow fix ourselves because we were fucking together. You told me that we had each other.” 

“And we did.” 

“No! We didn’t! I thought we were going to die, Sander! But the next morning I found some comfort in you, telling me that it was just stupid fucking bruises and that you loved me! I gave you so many fucking opportunities to get out of this mess, as far away as possible from me. I asked you a bunch of times if you were with Britt, I asked you! And you made the choice to lie to me over and over again! I only had you, I only wanted you next to me and you were living your life like nothing had happened! You were smiling and kissing and posing for pictures while I was ready to-” Robbe only realizes how loud he was talking when his last words echo around the nearly empty living room. 

Sander looks like he’s about to cry. Robbe lets himself really look at him for the first time in forever. He doesn’t look good. His clothes are all messy, his hair seems dirty and it’s pointing to every direction, he probably looks as tired as Robbe, but nothing worries Robbe now except how he almost said too much to a fucking stranger. Because that’s what Sander is now. Someone he doesn’t know. The little that Sander gave him was standing on a weak base that shattered while he was kissing Britt at that party only hours after almost being killed, not even twelve hours after telling Robbe that he loved him and that they had each other. Robbe is weak and dumb and he fell for it so fucking easily. 

It happens way too fast for Robbe’s exhausted brain to process, Sander comes closer and kisses him and it’s instantly like a wildfire ignited inside his heart, giving it some life back. Robbe can’t control how he feels when Sander kisses him. It’s not the same, but he can’t just not get carried away, kissing him back, tasting him slowly. His touch is careful, his fingertips barely touching Robbe’s neck and Robbe’s hands are on his chest, keeping the small distance between them.

As he hears the door being unlocked, Robbe stumbles away from Sander just in time. Zoe and Senne are at the door, looking at them. 

“What are you doing here?” Zoe asks and she doesn’t sound happy at all. Robbe walks away from the three, covering his face, bending down, so angry at himself for still having feelings, for still being in love. 

“I needed to talk to Robbe. I was just trying to keep him safe.” 

“You two have nothing to talk about. You should go.” Senne walks closer to Zoe and Sander, constantly looking at the boy, but he’s still looking at Robbe, still a little in shock, his lips are parted, the front of his shirt is wrinkled from Robbe’s grip. 

“Robbe, please, just let me stay and talk to you, I need to explain why-.” 

“He’s not in the right mind space to make de-”

“You should go. Now.” Robbe says as he gets up, walking up to them, and Zoe and Senne finally look at him. “We have nothing to talk about.” Sander doesn’t seem like he’s gonna move anywhere so Senne comes closer, helping him walk out, closing and locking the door once he’s out. 

Robbe doesn’t wanna talk, he can’t function right now so he walks back to his bedroom, leaving all the mess he made for Senne and Zoe to deal with. His phone starts vibrating in his pocket and he doesn’t check because he knows who’s sending the messages.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe

[octopodian]

Unpleasantness and Precedent

Percy looks up, still stiff. “My name is Percy. I am a bio-facsimile, here to-”

“Oh, a clone?”

Percy blinks. “Yeah.” In a more formal voice, “I mean, yes.”

Trexel rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to sound all fancy.”

summary: speculation on who exactly percy was, and trexels exact relationship with him. takes place pre-canon, duh. content warnings: canon-typical parental abuse/neglect and implied character death

Trexel is working on a drawing (of him, and mum, and dad). He’s been drawing it for a few hours now: he makes sure to add all the little details on the uniforms and everything. He hears the door woosh open, roughly when he expected it to, and he quickly puts his crayons aside and rushes to the door, drawing in hand.

“Mom! Dad! I made-”

“Ugh, Trexel, shush.” She winces, pressing a hand to her head.

“Not now, Trexel,” his dad says, frowning.

“But I drew-”

“Trexel,” his dad warns. Trexel bites his lip, finally looking over and noticing a third person who came into the room. They look Trexel’s age, though a bit taller than he is: tawny brown skin and curly hair just barely avoiding falling in their eyes. They glance over at Trexel quickly, and then quickly look back at the floor like they’ve been caught doing something wrong.

Mrs. Giestman waves her hand boredly, pouring herself another drink. "Trexel, this is Percy. He's going to be spending time with you now. Go let him tell you things, and leave your mum alone, okay?"

“But-”

“Trexel,” his dad groans again.

“Fine. C’mon,” Trexel says, waving towards his room.

Percy doesn't move, just stands stiffly in the doorway. Trexel huffs, grabs his hand, pulls him away. Trexel shuts the door and flops down on his bed, and Percy still just stands still looking at the floor.

“Well? Who’re you? Why’re you here?”

Percy looks up, still stiff. “My name is Percy. I am a bio-facsimile, here to-”

“Oh, a clone?”

Percy blinks. “Yeah.” In a more formal voice, “I mean, yes.”

Trexel rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to sound all fancy.”

“Of course I do. I’m programmed to…” Presumably, Percy keeps talking, but Trexel gets distracted. He tears up the drawing he had in his hands, especially making sure his mom and dad get disfigured, dropping the pieces to the floor. Then he points to his crayons.

“D’you like drawing?”

Percy blinks, again, like a cat. “Um. I dunno- don’t know. I was born today. I’m not really… supposed to?”

“It’s fun! C’mon.”

After 10 minutes Trexel doesn’t really finish anything he likes, and he scribbles his page out in thick black, and he looks over at Percy, who appears to be- drawing Trexel.

“...is that me?”

Percy once again starts like he’s been caught doing something wrong. “Um…”

“Lemme see.” Percy sheepishly hands it over. Trexel doesn’t want to admit it, but it looks good. It’s clearly him while he’s drawing: tongue stuck out at an angle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“I didn’t know what else to draw. Sorry.”

“No, I love it!” Percy looks at him with those huge brown eyes, slightly startled, and Trexel blushes slightly. “I mean, it’s alright. Good. It’s… fine. Good.”

“I’m not very good at drawing, sorry.” Percy bites his lip.

Trexel disagrees, but lets it go for now, saying “maybe we can play a game instead?”

That night he falls asleep clutching the paper close to his chest.

☆

Percy always acts so stiff around Trexel’s parents, and Trexel realizes he often acts the same way: quiet, holding still, trying not to attract any attention in case the attention turns into anger. Percy is better at it, though: Trexel keeps blurting things out without thinking or tries to show off impulsively, and it always makes people mad even though he’s just trying to make them happy.

His parents love Percy. He never speaks up, and always quietly sits until excused. They keep muttering things about hoping he rubs off on Trexel, manages to teach him how to behave.

Trexel finds himself wishing he was a little more like Percy. Maybe then they would like him.

☆

“I mean, don’t you get annoyed? I know I do.”

“Well, they do own me, Trexel. I’m not exactly trying to pick a fight with your parents.”

“Yeah, but they’re so…” Trexel does his best impersonation of his dad, puffing out his chest and puckering his lips. “Ah, yes, I am very important and smarter than you. Shut up! Don’t talk to me! Don’t you know who I am?!”

Percy laughs, light like a windchime, but then he freezes, coughs, scooches away from Trexel as fast as possible.

"What? What's wrong? I know I’m not that good at doing his voice, but-”

Percy looks at the door nervously. "Clones aren't supposed to- we aren't supposed to be friends .”

Trexel feels a stab of anger in his gut. "So what, you don't like me?"

"No, I do! It's just, I’m not supposed to laugh with you, or anything. I’m just supposed to be making sure you don’t die! If standards found out- Board, if your parents found out-'

"Well, they don't have to!"

Percy doesn’t look convinced, but nods. “I guess. Sorry, I just… I don’t wanna be recycled. I like spending time with you.”

Trexel shakes his head. “That’ll never happen.”

He sounds more confident than he really is, but Percy’s shy smile makes it worth it.

☆

“I’m going to be the greatest employee Stellar Firma has ever seen! I dunno what I'll do, but I'm gonna be great at it!” Trexel declares. He pauses, staring at his ceiling. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?”

Percy looks over from his spot, cross-legged on the floor. “I’m a clone. I’m already doing the job I was made for.”

“Okay, but, you were made to help me. What if I don’t need help later? I mean, I’m almost 12, I’m gonna be a teenager any day now!” Percy shrugs, not looking up, focused on his drawing. Trexel flops over onto his stomach, looking at him. “You should be an artist! Your drawings are good!”

Percy flushes. “They’re okay . I mean, I just draw them for you.”

Trexel pretends not to be flattered. He hasn't told his parents who drew all the pictures plastered over his walls. They never go into his room anyway: it can be his little secret.

“Well, you should do it for other people!”

Percy smiles, half sad, half patient. “I’m a clone, Trexel. I can’t be an artist.”

“Well, that’s dumb!”

A quiet security claxon beeps. They’re intentionally muffled in senior living quarters: it’s a perk of quality genetic lineage.

Percy shrugs. "That's how it is."

“But, if you just had more than my dumb pencils and crayons, you could really-”

“It’s okay, Trexel. I’m just a clone.”

Trexel bites back an argument, and flops back on his bed, crossing his arms. He stays sulking, even when he feels his bed sink as Percy sits down next to him.

“Sorry, Trexel. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” Trexel sulks.

“It’s just the rules. I was born to do this, just like you were born to be a citizen employee. We’re both stuck.”

“I guess,” Trexel mutters.

“...Y’know what always cheers me up?”

Trexel sits up. “...Singing a song?”

Percy grins. “Nooot exactly…”

Before Trexel can protest, Percy tackles him against the bed, viciously tickling his ribs and sides.

“Ah! No!” Trexel giggles. He manages to gasp enough breath to wheeze out a “Stop!” through his laughter, and Percy leans back with a wicked grin, finally letting Trexel breath.

“See! Always cheers me up.”

“Oh, let’s see how you like it!”

They both collapse in a pile of giggles.

Trexel decides it doesn't matter what he grows up to be, as long as Percy is there too.

☆

“Percy?”

“Mhm?” Percy is drawing another picture of Trexel - he’s been drawing a lot of them lately.

“You… you said we couldn’t be friends, right?”

Percy frowns. “Trexel, I didn’t mean that. It’s just… my programming. You know I still-”

“Well, what if I don’t want to be friends?” Trexel blurts out, resisting the urge to slap himself after he does so.

Percy’s face falls. “O-oh. I mean… of course. I’m just a clone, I- yeah, that’s-”

“Wait, no!” Trexel yelps. “I mean, uh… what if I wanna, maybe… be… something else?”

Percy’s eyes go wide, deep and brown and-

Trexel hesitates. He'd never really seen this happen, didn't really know what to say or do- and then Percy's crossed the room and his lips are gently pressed to his cheek.

Percy smiles softly, and Trexel beams back.

"I think I'd like that, Trexel."

"Me too!"

They hold hands until his parents come home, and then they pretend to be just a human and a clone, pretending to be the people they were supposed to be.

☆

Of course Trexel would ruin it all. He always ruined everything good in his life. Stupid, pathetic Trexel.

☆

Trexel hadn’t known. He hadn’t known they’d be home so soon, that they’d see them, that they’d-

“No, Dad, it wasn’t what it looks like, please-”

“Talking? With a clone?!”

“Laughing with it? Touching it? Like you’re friends?” His mum looks disgusted. Trexel feels tears stinging at his eyes, but he tries not to cry, tries not to make it any worse.

“You’re a Giestman, Trexel! You can’t be acting like this, it’s not right!”

His mom waves at security, face in her hand like she can’t even bear to look at Trexel. “Take the clone away!”

“You’re going into school tomorrow, Trexel. You need to earn to act normal.” 

“This behavior is below the station of a Geistman!”

Percy doesn't say a word, just stands quietly, stiffly, like he always does, like it'll keep him safe even now.

“Percy!” Trexel wails. His dad’s hand is so tight around his arm it's bruising it, and even as Trexel fights he can only watch as Percy gets dragged away. He catches one last glimpse of those big sparkling eyes, and then Percy is gone.

Trexel is locked in a box.

Trexel is sent to school.

Trexel is taught to behave.

And Trexel promises he’ll never love a clone again.

#text #i am op i am reposting to tumblr bc fuck ao3! #stellar firma #sf #trexel giestman #percy the clone #whats trexel percy. its #graph boyfriends #i thiiiink #fic #mine