#we had a whole conversation in the dream and resolved things. and then i woke up and realized we still havent spoken.

[doiesfav]

ﾟ𐦍༘⋆Strawberry Sunday - Doyoung ||

Pairing: father! Doyoung x fem! Reader

Plot: You realized that your daughter would feel awkward with his own dad sometimes so you decided to do a picnic to help them improve their relationship.

Genre: fluff, parenthood, established relationship, slice of life, fiction

doesn’t contain anything tbh

wc -> 1,5k

A/n: I JUST FINISHED WRITING IT WHILE ISTJ WAS OUT AND OMG WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? THE WHOLE ALBUM IS SO GOOD (PRETZEL THO) Anyways thanks guys again for supporting me ♡

From PARENTHOOD SERIES

MASTERLIST

banners and dividers are self made

You and Doyoung always wanted a child, it was both of your dreams as a couple and it became true. He has been working nonstop to provide a comfortable lifestyle for the family, and when you became pregnant it was as if all his hard work were paid off. But even though you guys achieved it, he hadn't had that much time to spend time together with her 2-year-old daughter, Aeyoung.

Sunday, a day were a family can relax and have fun together. Your 6 year old daughter doesn’t spend a lot of time with her dad like they used to, instead it has became kinda awkward when those two were alone so you decided to resolve that. First thing you did when you woke up was kiss doyoung on his cheek, you were used to it since dating so why not.

He was still asleep and you went to check on your daughter, “honey, wake up the sun already rose” You could see her trying to wake up because she was the well mannered and responsible type of kid. You petted her messy dark hair that reminded you of doyoung’s one, in fact, she resembles Doyoung a lot, her personality, her eyes and her hair. Although the face would be a mix of you two.

“Mommy, can I help you do breakfast today?” You nodded but before she could move you said “What about helping me prepare things for a picnic?” Her face lighted up you could see her excitement in her eyes. “Really??” she says out of excitement. As you two were going to the kitchen doyoung woke up. ''Good morning princess'' He went and hugged your daughter, but she just accepted the hug and suddenly became shy, ''Honey go to the kitchen first okay?'' You said to let you talk alone with Doyoung for a moment.

''Baby, don't you think she feels shy around you'' You said with a sweet voice but low so she couldn't hear the conversation, ''yea I thought I was the only one who noticed, Why would she feel like that? I am a bad father?'' He said those words feeling heartbroken, just the thought that his own daughter doesn't feel comfortable around his father was sad. You knew Doyoung works a lot and doesn't spend that much time around but it ain't his fault either, ''Doyoung, let's go out together today, and if your relationship improves, you know we gotta keep going'' He agreed so you both started by going to the kitchen to prepare breakfast with Aeyoung.

''Mommy, is daddy going too?'' You nodded but already expected that question, ''Let's start by preparing sandwiches'' Your hand made a gesture for Doyoung to come where you were, ''But first wash your hands'' As soon as Doyoung understood what were you trying to do he carried Aeyong towards the sink and helped her wash her hands, and before Doyoung left her down he said ''What do you have to say to daddy?'' Aeyoung smiled ''Thank you Daddy'' she said while giggling. You were relieved for a bit knowing that Aeyoung still values Doyoung as her father.

''What do you want in your sandwich princess?'' Doyoung asked Aeyoung, ''Ummm, I don't know, can you choose it for me daddy?'' Doyoung asked if she was sure and she nodded with a warm smile that was a mix of us. ''We finally finished our sandwiches'', yours was a classic chicken lettuce and tomato, Doyoung's one was imitation crab meat, boiled egg with mayo, and your daughter's one was a strawberry with cream sandwich because she liked sweet things like any other kid her age so your husband guessed right. She liked it a lot and since Doyoung knows how to cook very well it was even more delicious.

But there were still a lot of strawberries left and you had to use it all before it gets spoiled, luckily you all liked strawberries so it was easier to enjoy all that. The easiest idea was probably a strawberry smoothie, it was only mixing it in a blender with a few other bunch ingredients, ''Do you like strawberry smoothies honey?'' Aeyoung said out of excitement yes, she loved those. ''Are you sure we can eat all those strawberries today?'' Doyoung asked out of curiosity while blending the smoothie, ''I'm not that sure actually, but I'll think of a plan anyway'' The food waste here in Korea is no joke so you didn't want any problem with it. Finally done with the food you all changed clothes and ate breakfast with some leftovers, you started putting the food in the picnic bag, ''Baby, do you want to carry the bag or hold hands with Aeyoung'' You laughed knowing it was a trick question, of course, he wouldn't want you to carry the heavy bag but the plan of improving the relationship with Aeyoung was still on the action.

You saw Doyoung's doubtful face, ''Is a joke, I'll carry the bag don't worry'' and gave him a peck on his lips after he laughed back and complained knowing is also a joke like he always used to do since the day you meet him. You went to check on your daughter, ''Honey, let's go'' But before you could leave she hold your big hand compared to hers. ''Why daddy wasn't with us other days but today he did'' She asked half angrily but confused at the same time. ''Honey, the reason daddy isn't with us all the time isn't our fault nor yours. But when he's with us we have to enjoy it a lot, okay?'' You gave her a kiss on her forehead. Based on her facial expression it was as if she understood, Aeyoung was always a smart and understanding kid even if she was only 6 years old. ''Okay mommy, I'll try to give dad a fun time today'' She said and ran to Doyoung who was in the kitchen.

Doyoung was surprised at this but still kneeled and hugged her back. ''What happened honey'' ''Nothing is just that I missed you'' And Doyoung looked at you smiling which he answered with a flying kiss which you found cringe but laughed anways and made you flustered. ''Ready to go?'' Doyoung asked all of us and we nodded. After walking for about 20 minutes we arrived, the weather was excellent and there weren't too many people, ''perfect'' You said with a relieved feeling.

You and your husband prepared the blanket for you all to sit down and when it was done Aeyoung started taking out all the food. Sandwiches, strawberries, smoothies, and a strawberry shortcake you made beforehand, ''woaah, so many pink things, I like it'' Aeyoung giggled. ''Aeyoung, let's eat later and first play something okay?'' She nodded. You took out the guess-who game, but since it was for two people, Doyoung and Aeyoung teamed up.

You guys played 4 rounds, 3 rounds were Aeyoung and his father and in the other one, she teamed up with you, though she won all the rounds no matter who she was teamed up with. After playing some other games it was finally time to eat, and Aeyoung was very excited to do so. It wasn't her first time going out for a picnic but every time you guys went she acted like it was her very first time, she never gets tired of it.

You ate first the sandwiches you made on our own, but close after everyone finished eating them, you guys were kinda full but still had a lot of leftovers. While your husband and daughter were playing you were thinking about what you should do with it, then your brain sparkled. You could give it away to people. You told Doyoung and he agreed ''But, you and Aeyoung not me'' You winked at him which he answered by kissing you and it suprised you.

''Aeyoung, Do you want to give these leftovers to people?'' Doyoung said to his daughter ''Whyyy?'' Doyoung pressed his lips not knowing what to say and looked at you asking for help but you looked away ''So, we have to be good people and since we are full is good to offer it to others'' Aeyoung kinda understood it and kept nodding her head adn agreed.

They both held hands and Doyoung carried the leftovers, he wasn't an introvert but neither he was the most extrovert so he became a little bit shy at first. They found a young couple ''Excuse me, we have some strawberries would you like some?'' Doyoung said shyly but then Aeyoung repeated with enthusiasm ''Yes, would you like some'' The couple reacted happily and accepted it, ''Is she your daughter, she's so cute'' Doyoung blushed more than Aeyoung should but it made him happy anyways.

They kept doing this until there weren't strawberries left. They have successfully done it and made a high five when they returned, you were sleeping so your daughter woke you up. ''Mommy we don't have more strawberries'' she cheered while trying to wake you. After you woke up Aeyoung told you everything and then decided to wrap it up and go home. ''Did you like this picnic Aeyoung?'' Doyoung asked, She said yes feeling very happy more than she usually is and she even asked him to lift him up. Doyoung of course did it. And then headed home. Your mission was completed.

Thanks for supporting and sorry if the end is a bit lazy (It was done while watching the ISTJ showcase LMAO) Anyways stream ISTJ and would appreciate reblogging or following thanks ♡♡♡♡♡♡

#nct #nct fics #nct x reader #nct imagines #nctzen #wayv #nct 127 #nct dojaejung #nct drabbles #nct dream #nct doyoung #nct u #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct moodboard #doyoung fanfic #doyoung #dojaejung #doyoung x reader #doyoung fic #kim doyoung #doyoung imagines #doyoung icons #kim doyoung x reader

[elliequeen777]

Soo, today it came to my mind this dream I had like a year ago. I remember I was reading something about Damian Wayne and the Bat-family, an his character really caught my attention so I did a bit of research and found out that there is not a lot of people who like him. And I get it, he is not precisely original or charismatic and his arcs are very weird. But something that I found very interesting was the fact that every single time he has a very tragic ending, like super dramatic. He's some short of sacrificial lamb, the only way he becomes a "true" hero is by sacrificing himself. Because, for some rason, there is no way he grows up as a happy, semi-stable, sensible person. I remember thinking that was really depressing, is like he is destined to be an unstable, unhappy kid forever.

I also remember comparing his situation with some other characters that had gone through a similar situation than him, like the other robins, Cass, Raven, Terra (the one from the animated series) and even Bucky Barnes (from the comics) and Natasha. One thing led to the other and I started wondering how different could be the life of Damian if he was on the Marvel universe, specially since they are experts on rescuing children from assassin's schools (Natasha and Bucky have done it at least twice each and there is a lot more arcs around it even in the MCU, if you ask me, a little too many times, I really hope we're done with that trope).

And then I fall asleep, I don't remember the whole dream now, but I remember two things clearly: 1) Natasha was in Gotham City and 2) she was friends with Alfred. When I woke up I tried to make sense to all the information and finally I came up with a story.

I had this on the back of my brain since last Christmas and I never came to anything more than just the idea. So I resolved to put this in here and see if someone else is willing to take this idea and make something with it. If not at least I'll get it out of my mind. So please don't judge me too harsh.

Here we go:

Valerie and Franklin Richards have combined their super-abilities to create some sort of spaceship that can jump to every multiverse. Fascinated with their discovery they want to make some sort of map of the multiverse. But soon they realize that only the two of them don't give avast to such a big task. They need explorers that can help them track record of every single universe, and they have to choose them carefully. One of the chosen ones is Natasha Romanoff, who's well known for her clean and discreet work, the spy, willing to take a break of her crazy life, accepts the invitation with enthusiasm. That's how she gets to land in Earth 2, there she meets a young Alfred and their friendship starts (they keep in touch somehow).

Time passes, and at some point Nat finds herself in Gotham city again, for business. She's staying with Alfred who introduces her to Bruce and Damian. At some moment she has a conversation with Bruce where she ends up revealing something about her past in the red room. He is very intrigued by that and starts asking som questions, but she is not very comfortable sharing more information with him, so he tells her about Damian, he's very worried for his kid's future, and doesn't know how to help the kid. She sympathizes with him, but is still reluctant to open about her past and tells him that the best he can do is to love his kid and show him he cares (very basic but helpful advice, I specifically recall this dialogue: "It's great you are trying to help, Bruce, but we are not a club of «reformed trained assassins», we are not precisely happy to find more people like us").

Bruce keeps thinking about that conversation and gets to the conclusion that Damian needs someone like Nat to guide him in his healing journey. So he goes to her and asks her a favor: to please help his son. Natasha is not very sure about getting involved, but after a long conversation with Alfred and Bruce, they decide to let Damian go with Nat to her universe for three days, she will show the kid her life and the life of other "reformed trained assassins".

So that's what happens, Bruce tells Damian he's going to learn new spy skills with a professional and then leaves him in Nat's hands. They travel to the Marvel universe and Damian learns that fate is not written and that he can have whatever life he wants.

And that's it, this is all I came up with. I will really appreciate to know your thoughts about this, so please say something. Anyway thank you for reading this shit. ❤️

#this was supposed to be a reflexion on the “kid trained to kill” trope #I feel like some writers don't understand the complexity of this type of characters #but writing is a struggle to me #so i never do anything with this kind ofthoughts #natasha romanoff #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #black widow #robin #bruce wayne #marvel universe #crossover #fanfic #dc comics #dc universe #fanfic ideas #marvel comics

[asinglemagpie]

So my dreams were a bit wild last night. Apparently I was considering the "get a free Amazon Prime trial" situation before I fell asleep because my brain created for me both season 2 of "Good Omens" and season 3 of "Picard" despite me knowing nothing about either.

"Good Omens" premise was that one brunch Crowley had accidentally proposed to Aziraphale, who paused a moment before continuing on with the conversation like it hadn't happened. This caused Crowley to decide that, no matter what, he was going to get a "yes" out of the angel, even if he hadn't really intended to propose in the first place. The more frustrated he got, the more elaborate his clothing. My first favourite is a stunning navy off-the-shoulder gown which he wore to go do the grocery shopping, and my second was that he had run out of things to wear or add to his clothes, so he disappears and comes back wearing a gold curtain rail with the dark curtains still on it like a cape behind him. The whole joke, it seems, is that everyone just accepted his outbursts of fashion - except for Aziraphale, who is getting increasingly concerned, and secretly amused. I woke up before the end of the last episode of the "season".

The "Picard" premise was much hazier, and on close inspection the timelines wouldn't have really worked, and contradict known canon. Any which way, there is a settlement under threat, and I remember very little - or there was very little - of it in the dream. What was very much the core was Picard and Crusher. They end up spending a lot of time together, and they reminisce a lot. Photos come out and they're sat with them up on the screen, and there's a picture of a young Beverly with a boy in his mid-to-late teens. He asks her who that is and she quietly says that's her son Johnathon, he passed away not long after that picture. Picard is shocked he never knew about the boy - after all they'd known each other almost their whole lives. Turns out that before she met her future husband, she and Picard had a short but serious relationship for a few years in the academy - they had recently decided to go separate ways when she found out she was pregnant but she didn't want to tell him and ruin his plans, because he would have stayed behind to be with them - or join family ships with them which wouldn’t have given him the same career trajectory - so she quietly had the baby and because of the kind of support Starfleet gave families she was able to raise him and continue training to become a doctor. Of course Picard does the math eventually and asks the important question - was that his son? And it was. He has questions - why did she never say, why did Wes never say he had an older brother? Somehow Johnathon died before Wes was born (see, I said that the timeline doesn't work!) and she never really talked about it, and Jack respected that. She ends up mortally wounded in the fight to protect the settlement, and after a long heart-to-heart that resolves it all, he takes her home to be buried with her son.

Needless to say I don’t feel very rested lmao.

#Chattering in Black and White #And yes - the subtitles spelt the name ''Johnathon'' (oh yes - my dream TV shows had subtitles LOL) and I know that's not quite usual lol #Also the curtains-as-a-cape thing will live in my head forever XD

[corvidshipping]

i had a dream my ex texted me... ahaa... haa.. ._.

#paper_heart.txt #we had a whole conversation in the dream and resolved things. and then i woke up and realized we still havent spoken. #just gonna ..... think about my f/os for a while ell oh ell #vent #negative #i uhhhhh..... dont wanna be pushy or anything but if anyone wants to send anything about them that would be helpful probably. ._.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Abandoned By The Altar

Part 2; When you grow older.

Vibe Here

A timeline oriented story focused on your once perfect childhood relationship as Diluc’s bride to be, soon becoming estranged after the death of his father and his neglect. You only wish now that he looks at you the same way he did when you heard you were supposed to be together forever when you were young.

Pairings -> Diluc x Reader, Kaeya x Reader if you squint (All young at the first parts)

Word Count -> 8170

Themes -> Initial Fluff, Angst, Fluff again

Series -> #Bonafide Specials (100 followers event) Part 1 Part 3

Warnings -> Character Death, Slightly suggestive themes

Diluc's heart almost leaped to his throat when he had finally seen you, found you, now conversing with the new member of the family his father had adopted just yesterday. Kaeya, was his name. He looked peculiar, and older than him too.

Despite your spritely aura, he noticed his now brother still wary and even tensed at your presence, so the younger boy finally made his way over. The training sword bouncing against his hip with every step, he made his way next to you, offering a smile as he gestured to the blunette. "I see you've met Kaeya, he's my new brother, he entered the house yesterday."

Your lively eyes that was wide with happiness from finally seeing Diluc now held a hint of wonder as it landed on Kaeya, a toothy grin presenting itself on your face. The blunette can't help but blink, "Hello there, big bro Kaeya! I'm (Y/N), my mother and father are good friends with Master Crepus!"

You offered a handshake and he took it only a second late, handshake light yet tight. "Oh! I'm also Diluc's financee." Fiancée, Diluc corrected again as your hands part from each other. "Yeah, that."

Kaeya's only visible eye suddenly flew wide open as he chokes on air. Did he hear that right? These two children in front of him, years younger than him, already fated to marry in the future. What kind of customs does Mondstadt had, he warily thought in the back of his mind as he watches you two interact.

What a sad life it must be to be forced to something like that so early, he thought to himself before he saw you reach out to Diluc's hand. And the redhead, upon noticing this started to remove his used and dirtied glove, before catching your outstretched hand easily.

Kaeya only watched with an uneasy smile. He supposed this is something he needs to get used to if he wants to stay.

And oh boy, it's not something he's gonna get used to easily, the skeptic boy thought as he found himself getting dragged around by the Winery by you. You were touring him around and inside to places he had yet to see, entering rooms that normal people probably had no access to. You knew the Winery as if you had a map on you, and he supposed he expected this much if you were that close to his... brother.

"Were you," the innocence of your eyes as you whipped your head up to look at him hurt his heart over how in contrast it was with his, "forced to be together with Diluc?"

You let out a scandalous gasp on which Kaeya had to stop himself from snorting. "Why, no! I'm the one who even asked him about it," his snort turned into that weird sound again. "He's my bestest friend and I want nothing more than to be by his side always!"

F-Friend? God, Kaeya's head had been experiencing a numbing headache lately.

With his desire to be part of the Knights of Favonius, Diluc had more often than not, neglected giving you attention so often that it was a stark contrast to the closeness you two had before. And on days where he held his training sword, he'd realize just how he missed you and your imposing hugs.

But he wanted- no- needed to get stronger. He was blessed by the Gods with a Vision, and the weak are meant to be protected, and he can't let himself be the useless person he had been the day you were on the brink of death. Even if you hid it perfectly well and brushed aside the incident when you came to, he noticed how the veins in your hand were a more prominent shade of blue now.

How your fingertips get easily cold and how you always clung to the warmth his hand gives off as a result of his Vision.

When Kaeya asked about you, about his Vision, about his ambitions— he complied almost instantly, like a valve opened fully, all the answers Kaeya was seeking flowed out seamlessly like running water.

As the oldest out of you three, despite the fact that you'd all only knew each other for three days, Kaeya had already felt the urge to protect and be there whenever Diluc had busied himself with his justified training. He'd watch your lips turn into a pout as your redhead drag himself back outside with his sword and Kaeya would then distract you from your disappointment.

Crepus had been witness to this grand scheme for a while now, relieved that his new son had at least started coping with the new environment and interactions. But your presence had always astounded the people around you, and comforted those the same age as you. Despite being on the road and barely making lasting friendships, it was a mystery how you managed to entrance people like that.

"Diluc is just pursuing his dreams," the redhead, your uncle, started as he sat next to you by the benches. Boar Princess, he noted as you closed the book you were reading, opting to look up at him with those doe eyes again. "I know you must feel lonely, having to wait for him and everything. But he's doing it for you too, to protect you."

Your eyelids drooped in the implications and your lips pursed into a pout as you turned back to watch Diluc spar with his instructor. You sighed again before whispering under your breath, "But aren't we supposed to be together forever..."

You felt a big hand ruffle your hair, making you whine on how messy it was now. How old were you again? 11 years? Eh, should be enough. "Sweet (Y/N), being Diluc's fiancée doesn't mean you need to be around him everytime," he started talking about your promise and that had finally drawn your full attention. "You have your own life, Diluc has his path to be a knight. Sometimes what you want doesn't go the same was as he wants, and the same goes for him to you. But in the end you still are together, and still treasure each other."

The thought of having a daughter never really passed the man's mind in his whole life, he mused as he watched your beaded eyes fleet back to Diluc, before once again finding itself to Crepus with a firmer resolve. You wanted to learn more and it's time you finally understand the gravity of your promise.

Crepus placed down his cup of grape juice and turned to you on the bench. "You know your mother and father and how they're together, right?" A soft nod. "You two will be just like that, in the future together. Not always together but always end up coming back to each other, because your parents love each other always. Do you want to be with Diluc that way? Do you love and support him like that?"

Your button nose cutely scrunched up in contemplation and shortly gave him a vigorous nod with a wide grin. He grins back. "Good, thank you, I'm sure that Diluc too would support you in your dreams."

As if he had a sixth sense, the young master Diluc felt as if his name was being mentioned in important business as his eyes passes over the bench where you two reside. Sensing the distraction, his instructor finally allowed him a break, and the first thing he did was jog over to the two of you, "Father, (Y/N)." He watched you as you scrambled to climb down the bench, hurriedly taking off his dirtied glove to assist you down.

Crepus once again hid his smile behind his drink as he watched you bound over to him, the same fire in your eyes as you placed your hands on the child's shoulderd firmly. "Diluc, I love you!" You loudly declared before smashing your lips to his— Crepus spits his grape juice. "I'll support your dreams to the end-! Ahhhh, Diluc fainted! Uncle, HELP!"

The young master woke up a few hours later to you crying over and over, saying sorry for 'breaking him again.' Crepus and your parents were by the side, your mother's horrified face concealed by her hand after hearing what you've done.

Oh dear, the Ragnvindr thought to himself, my son is a sub.

Ever since that day, the people around you have started preparing you for your future of refinement and adulthood. You were no Vision-wielder unlike Diluc, and your handling swords were nothing to boast about. Your parents are businessmen and as their only child it would be you that will be inheriting and operating the work that they had built up, and so naturally that was the route you had to pick.

Your tutoring and Diluc's continuous training to get into Ordo Favonius made it hard for you both to spend more time with each other. Toys were replaced by books and swords, garden of Cecilias changed to libraries and training dummies.

Crepus, as a father and an uncle, alternates his time between you two. At times he'd be the one sparring with his child and grating the principles of knighthood to him, and on rare occasions that you were there, he walks you around as he talks about the wine industry and the operations of his business. Both of you started growing, separately, but there was a similar flame representing your spirit within both of your eyes.

Diluc entered the ranks of the Knights when he was 14, and Crepus was overwhelmed by the achievement his son finally reached, of the dream he once had when he was a child. In that same age range, you've also ended up making a name for yourself as the youngest business entrepreneur and economic scholar, your name and prodigy reached past Liyue...

And in your hands lay a perfectly white envelope enclosed with the insignia of Sumeru. The Academia invites you into a scholarship program once you turned 18.

Your whole family rejoiced at the recognition and the opportunity and you wept in tears of happiness. Finally, your young mind cried, you were finally something worthy to be next to Diluc instead of a normal person that can't be blessed by the Gods.

A party had been in order for both milestones, and more prestigious individuals from all over Teyvat were present. Something came up before the party that forced you to be late once again, and Diluc realized just how long you hadn't seen each other, more so spent time with each other. Kaeya stood next to him before nudging him with an elbow slightly, "What's got you so worried, brother? You shouldn't frown on your own party."

At the remark, Diluc stood straighter and fixed his frown. Why is it now that he was reminded of your promises and dwindled time? In the back of his mind, he realized just how much at fault he was for being neglectful. The spark you two had felt estranged and distant, feeling as tho things won't come back to the way they were.

The Court Marshal's booming voice suddenly announced your family name and the hall turned silent as everyone lifted their gaze to the grand entrance. Your bedazzled self stood there in your ombre dress, short sleeve matched with elbow gloves, and a resin Cecilia hairpiece holds itself on the crown of your head.

Diluc and Kaeya, and several other boys in the crowd gasped at your regal aura. Was this really YOU? The same girl that spit a grape on his hand/complimented a stranger's eyepatch? You stood with the poise of a refined woman and your face enlightened with a subtle artificial blush. Gone was your toothy grin and replaced with respectful smile as you made your way through the crowd.

Suddenly the nervousness came crashing back to the knight and he scrambled to pick himself up as the distance between you two shortened.

"Master Diluc," you curtsied and he inwardly doubled over at the formality, finding it almost detesting. "I'm glad to meet you again."

"(Y/N)," he bowed with a hand on his chest. "You don't need to be so formal."

The respectful smile on your face turned into a full-blown grin, the one he was used to, as you barreled towards him for a hug. Purely due to instincts and conditioning, Diluc was quick to catch you into his arms to reciprocate the hug. Disappointed gasps and whines echoed through the hall at the display, but they stood there in awe as they watched, for the rare sight of the young master's genuine smile was there for all to see.

As you two first danced the night away, it was finally brought onto everyone the fact that young master Diluc and young mistress (Y/N) were already fated together.

The ballroom parted to give way to you two as you chatted the missed times together, falling easily into steps while updating each other of the things you had done. It's true, you two may had gone your separate ways and lost time but in the end, you'll find yourself in each other's embrace.

The darkness of the knight embraces the winery as crystalflies dance by the vines and the surrounding grassland. The freshly signed contract made its way in between the pages of the personal journal before it was pushed into the luggage together with the packed clothes.

There was a thick silence in the room as Diluc continued watching with his lips tight, leaning against the doorframe. A tension was obvious, but it wasn't between you two, but it was also against you two.

Tomorrow at high noon marks your official departure to Sumeru now that you had finished your secondary education, at the prime age of 18. All things necessary had been prepared, a convoy of knights to guide you until you reach past the border of the continent, and in that security is Kaeya. Cavalry Captain Diluc had matters to work on in the capital, it was not his official job to officiate your leave. Even if he wanted to.

It was one of the instances, of the many, that being a knight had pulled him away from you.

"Something's on your mind, I can feel it," Diluc snapped out of his thoughts when he felt the ghost of your fingertips brush away the hair framing his face, cupping both of his cheeks like you've always done. He takes one into his hand, squeezing it lightly as he offers a small smile.

"So are you, your hands are trembling," and indeed they were. You huffed at being caught but recovered, pulling him into your room and on to your bed. There were numerous times when you'd sleep together on the same bed when you missed each other; you were both 8 that time, now you laid there as 18 years olds. The implications had him gulp while you seemed unbothered.

"Four years," you recounted as you flopped back on your mattress, the room you took for yourself in the winery ever since you arrived 10 years ago. "Maybe lesser, depending on how well I do."

"You'll do good," he assured as he kicked off his boots and climbed next to you, now laying on his side to face you. Your eyes fluttered shut with a sigh and he couldn't hell but blush at the way your eyebrows scrunched together with your pursed lips, "I believe in you."

"It's the longest we'll be separated, you can easily find another girl that would bother you enough to get you to marry her." You both snorted at the idea, before laughing in harmony at the joke.

"Mmm, I should be saying that to you. Scholars and prestigious men attend the Academia, they can easily sweep you away with their wits," he bit back and you laughed at the idea. How funny the predicament is, joking about getting stolen the same day you finally signed your arranged marriage contract.

Talks about anything and everything blew the night away easily. Diluc can see in your eyes that the nerves within you wouldn't let you sleep, and keeping him locked in constant conversation would prevent him from leaving. He entertained you this much, uncharacteristically chatty, as if repaying the four years that will go by without each other. And at the back of Diluc's mind, his worry of losing you in those four years started to manifest and cloud his thoughts into a fairly sensible doubt.

"Lulu!" He yelped as he felt a sudden bite on his cheek, reflexively pushing you down by the shoulders under him to suppress the assault. He was strong, you'd forgotten this new fact. As you laid sprawled under him as heavy breathing mixed in between.

You gripped the wrists of his hands that now stands next to your head to keep him there. His eyes were wide yet bashful. You called out to him again and it was almost a whine, asking him to tell you what's in his mind, what's worrying him and distracting him like this.

And he spilled all his insecurities, for every word that slipped past his lips, his heart relaxes while his eyes clenches. Somewhere in the middle of his rant, you had his cheeks captured in your palms again, to swipe at the tears that passes by. He worked his ass off to become a knight so he can protect you but you will be too far for his claymore to reach you, he wouldn't be there to hold your hand so you don't go off on your own and wonder to somewhere dangerous. And he wouldn't be there to bring you into his arms to remind that he exists, the one and only person meant to be for you.

Diluc doesn't know when he started falling in love, he doesn't know when he started wanting your company as a lover. But he knows there would be men that would look at you the way he does, easily captivated by your aura and your beauty. And if they were to take your hand, he wouldn't know. He wouldn't know when he had lost you, if he had lost you already.

Diluc was an honest man to you, and he was honest when he said he was scared to lose you.

"I belong to you," you started as your fingers softly pats his cute reddened cheeks. "And only you. I'll get a ring and don it on my hand to let the world know, I'll write letters to you as many times as I can so you'll know I'm still alive and yours." You pulled him closer, foreheads touching each other, as you stared at the red windows to his soul. He nods in agreement, slightly assured.

"I want to stay here tonight," somehow you urged the words out of him so easily everytime. The introverted boy you once knew stood on his own feet now, proudly, "Just so I don't forget you easily."

"I won't let you forget me at all," Diluc froze from taking off his vest when he saw you with a mischievous glint in your eyes, "Not after tonight." Oh boy.

It was the devil's hour when you twirled a strand of his untied hair, wild and curly, around your finger. Luscious and thick, silky yet unkempt. "Don't cut your hair," you mumbled as you leaned against his bare chest, sending a smile as you tilt your head up to see him chuckle, "It looks better long, I want it extra long when I come back!" He mumbles his agreement against the crown of your head.

When the sun rose high in the sky and the caravan was set to go, many of the servants of the Winery had expressed their congratulations and their good lucks to your new milestone. Your parents were more worried than not knowing their only child, nomad at heart, shall venture the world alone for four years away from them. You were crying angrily at how they made it so sentimental, forcing the waterworks out of you.

Crepus had already given his goodbyes and stood to the side with Diluc before the clock struck exactly 4 PM. The man's vigilant eyes however did not miss the fact that you and Diluc seem to lack the necessary sleep to power through the day, even tho half of it is already gone. How they grow up so fast.

When you found yourself bounding over to Diluc one last time, he took your hand ever so gently, still coming into terms of your departure. You only hum idly as he stares at your bare hands, before suddenly he presented two silver rings of infinity. You had to stop yourself from gasping aloud, "A promise ring, so that everyone in Sumeru knows there's someone waiting for you back home already." His red gaze averted to the side in fluster, gingerly sliding the band to your ring finger as he did the other to his own.

Home. Yes, Mond is now your home, and specifically next to him is where you belong. You shared your last kiss before Kaeya had finally called for the carriage to start ascending, on the dot. You peeked out of the carriage one last time as you waved your goodbyes to everyone, the silver band catching the light of the sun as it shines with promise.

Diluc wished goodbyes to you that day. And as he turns to his father to board their own horseback and carriage, he ends up losing two people on the same day.

Dearest Diluc,

I hope this letter finds you well. The Academia had been very accommodating ever since I arrived, there are a lot of people here from all over Teyvat, just like you had thought! I felt quite lonely and inferior when I entered but I've gained nice companions along the way and things became easy. With my exposure to our families' businesses, studies were actually easier than I expected them to be. There's been talks with the professors of me being accelerated half a year with my progress, it seems four years may not be accurate.

I've also gained myself a senior, a really kind and intelligent upperclassmen. His name is Cyno, a nice gentleman. He's been teaching me on weapon mastery since he's really good with a polearm. You use a Claymore, right? If I come back wielding a polearm, I want to spar! But don't worry about him, he knows of our betrothal and his boundaries.

How's being the captain there? I hope Uncle Crepus and Kaeya are doing well with you mostly in Mond's city now. It seems the Academia doesn't really receive letters for 'security reasons' hence why I haven't received any of your letters. But no matter, I'm sure you're doing far better than I am, you're much stronger and capable now afterall! Make sure to take care of yourself always, get some breaks and eat your meals! I don't want to see you so skinny and weak when I get back!

Forever Yours,

(Y/N)

There is bliss in ignorance. As you fold up the letter into the envelope, the door to your room echoes a knock before it softly opens to reveal your upperclassman. His gaze falls on the envelope on your hand in silent question to which you return with a smile and a nod, standing up from your study table as you followed Cyno out of the dormitories to the Academia's post office.

It had been a year since you left Mondstadt, a year since you've last seen Diluc, and a year since Crepus had died. Your parents, not wanting you to be distracted by the loss and dent your studies over such matters, opted to refrain from informing you of the grave news. It has also been a year since you started writing letters to Diluc and never received a reply.

"Time will go by quickly, and you'll be back before you know it," the Sumeru denizen beside you reassured you of your lack of correspondence and you offered a smile at his niceties. It doesn't worry you that Diluc wasn't able to contact you like so, you only wish that he was able to receive your little notes so he's reminded to take care of himself.

Yet as you pass the envelope to the postman, there was still an uneasy feeling on the back of your mind. You turn around with a curious hum, calmly and slowly scanning the grounds of the Academia before walking once again to catch up with your senior, clutching the silver ring close to your chest as you fell back into idle chatter.

Once you've disappeared behind the doors of your next class, a lone man stands straight on one of the tower's roof. The warm wind of Sumeru washes by him in a force enough to whisk away his hood, but he did not care. He did not care over the way his red hair spills all over his shoulders as it danced with the wind.

Diluc only heaved a sigh before leaping back into the shadows on his last day in the desert nation, finding no proper clue and heading to the next nation over. But not before stealing a freshly folded letter from the shelf of a certain post office.

Two years. Two years. Sumeru Academia sent you off on graduation with both striking awe and somber disappointment. After losing the prodigy Lisa, they were now losing you, the now renowned master practitioner of economics. You did so well, SO WELL in fact, that your four years stay ended in just two because of your numerous acceleration as a year in you're already conversing with the modern founders of the practice.

They wanted you to stay longer but you've had your fair share of knowledge and waiting. Everyone knew of your relationship predicament, understanding where you're coming from, yet to leave another prodigy to Mondstadt. It was unnerving for them, but your smile had been nothing but reassuring. You comforted those with the promise of correspondence and accommodation, if they so wish to find time and pass by Mondstadt in the future.

And hence you find yourself in Dawn Winery, your luggage and naginata as your only companion. You barged in like nobody's business and started looking around for anyone- Kaeya, Uncle Crepus, Diluc- yet no one showed up. Servants are scarce and almost non-existent, you were confused beyond comprehension.

A set of footsteps echoed behind you and you twisted around in excitement, only to see one of the higher attendants you still remember, Elzer. "M-Mistress (Y/N)! Y-You're ali- you're here!" You cocked your head to the side, unsure of how to take his slip up.

Ah, right, priorities. "Have you seen where anyone is? Kaeya, Master Crepus, Diluc? I passed by here first since it's on the way but I can't find anyone!" The gravity of the change gnawed at you from the pit of your stomach, and you nibbled at your bottom lip at the flash of emotions that passed his face.

"We're unsure where Master Diluc is currently, but Master Kaeya is in Mondstadt-" A lead! Diluc must be patrolling somewhere in the city anyways so you bolted out of the mansion, thanking the man before he can finish answering all your questions. As you left so loudly, in your wake the other servants were now aware of your presence, and the feeling of dread revives in the Winery.

Two years must have gone by longer than you expected it to be, this thought passed you as you went through the main gates of the City of Freedom. The knights that were usually on guard are those you've never seen before, and the people around you barely spared you a glance with no recognition. Even the ones stationed at the entrance of the Ordo Favonius HQ were completely new when you went over to ask.

"Have you seen- do you know where the uhm," you paused in remembrance, "The Cavalry Captain. Do you know where he is?" With how new they were, you figured Diluc would be known by his title instead.

One of them nods and pointed at the Cathedral, "Yes, Ma'am. He's just finished an expedition and are conversing with the healers in the church." Finally, an exact location! You thanked them and flew off once again.

And so you found yourself in front of the altar of the anemo archon, alone in the completely silent establishment. There were no whispers to guide you or people to tell you where he is, it was too quiet, and you were turning helpless. Offering your bow to the statue you turned to walk back down the aisle, only to see a familar figure staring at you as if you were a ghost haunting-

"(Y/N)?" You gasped and ran towards him.

"Kaeya! You're here!" You embraced him softly, careful of the confusing clothing and the hanging polearm on your back. He embraced you just the same, a hearty laugh masking the nervousness on the back of his throat.

"Aren't you supposed to come home two years later?" Kaeya inquired as he stepped back from the hug, suddenly smirking, "Or are you telling me you ran away from school?"

You smacked his arm with a whine at such a preposterous accusation, harder than you'd intended as you heard him wince. Oh goodness, your training with Cyno really made you strong. "Ahhh, no, no! I finished early because I was too good ahah, who would've thought!" The blunette let out a rare snort on that of which only spurred on your laughter.

The familiarity of another had eased the tension on your shoulders as you conversed freely about everything that had transpired for you, how things had been and- you've realized now just how tired you were from the long travel you'd gone through even tho you were used to such lifestyle when you were young.

After things had died down, you finally asked, "Where's Diluc?" And the twinkle of lax delight hardened at the question. He took a few seconds to start as his eye shifted left and right, and your knees were shaking from the implications-

And then he finally told you everything. The death of Crepus. Diluc giving up his Vision. Him disappearing for two year, without return. All the disaster that had happened the moment you left.

Your legs gave out as your knees hit the floor painfully, it will probably bruise later but you couldn't get yourself to care. If you hadn't left that day, would it have gone differently? Would you be able to make him stay? You should have been there to comfort him, to be by his side and yet-

Please tell me you're joking, you cried out so desperately to Kaeya who dropped down to gather you into his arms. But you knew better than that, he knew you knew better than that, so he didn't answer. And the altar behind you listened to the echoed screams and cries of a maiden abandoned by grief and love.

And Kaeya stayed for as long as you needed him to be. And in the back of his mind, a bitterness bit—

That should have been Diluc, holding you and comforting you.

That should be him, showing you where Crepus Ragnvindr's gravestone lies to pay your respects.

That should have been him who stayed.

It had been almost two years now since you've gone back to Mondstadt, almost four years since Diluc disappeared, together with him he took away your hopes and promises. The talk about your arranged marriage had become taboo to the people who still knows, but they don't comment on the ring that still lingered around your finger.

Besides finally taking over the business in Mondstadt (your parents had established one in Fontaine while you were away) and being pursued by scholars all over the world, you've been dealing with the pain silently and alone. Numbing soon. Every passing day with no news of him claws at the idea of him being alive even, and the thought sickens you to death.

It was one of those nights when you couldn't sleep and had decided to stroll around the city during the dead of the night to clear your head. Your parents had sent you a letter of recall to Fontaine, asking you to leave the business to the managers. They didn't exactly put it into words, but you knew your parents better than anyone: you should stop hoping he'd return, was what they wanted to say.

You rubbed your forearm as you continued your walk. It must have been your time with Sumeru that made you so vulnerable to the cold now, was your thought process as another chilly wind passed by you. And then you heard it—

An echoed cackle and a crackle of icicles.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood straight as you stumbled to the side, narrowly missing a flying icicle. Thank goodness Sumeru Academia required combats class, you thought as you darted straight through the alleys, the Abyss Mage hot on pursuit. This was the worst time to leave your freaking polearm at your house, you screamed at yourself as you vaulted over empty crates before coming out of another street.

“Look out!” A gruff voice shouted as a sudden wall of black? fire manifested behind you. You heard the icicle melting as it touched the wall and dissipated with it, revealing a figure cloaked in pure black. Back turned to you, the Abyss Mage continued its assault which was now focused on the intruder. And their clash started just like that.

You hopped back when another barrage of icicle rain was summoned. This guy had a Vision(?) but it was something you’ve never seen before, nor had encountered in your classes about the elements. You can’t leave him now, not like this, and so you picked up a slab of wood from a broken crate. Abyss mages have shields yes, you need to break that.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you leaped over the ledge that’s in level with the floating enemy (again, thanks for the acrobatic lessons) and brought down the hard wood over the mage’s head. It produced a sickening crunch as the shield broke under pressure as well as fall through and hit it square in the head! It dropped back to the floor momentarily, and it made you aware that you two were plummeting to the ground.

You pulled your limbs close and braced for impact- “Shit, I got you.” You felt something cold and thin wrap around your body before it guided you to the cloaked person’s awaiting arms, stumbling a bit at the weight. You grunted at the inertia before you met eyes with orbs of red within a shadow, it looked at you widely behind an owl mask(?) and you looked back with a squint. Who?

Your little moment was interrupted when the Abyss Mage started rising from the ground again, slightly swaying from the blow you hit it with earlier. In alarm, you quickly placed your feet down to stand, the chains around you easily slinking away back to the person’s cloak. The man then stands in front of you protectively, cursing under his breath, “You need to leave, it’s too dangerous.” There was a weird strain in his voice now.

This made you scoff, so loud and offended, that you felt the man be taken aback by your response. “You can’t even disable the shield in time,” you ignored the way he seemingly cringed back to this cloak as you stood next to him, slab of wood at the ready, “Don’t worry about me, I had lessons.” Now it was his turn to scoff but relented anyways, as if he knew well enough that you’re not falling back easily.

Batarangs flew from his cloak as it hit the Abyss on the arms and chest, screeching in pain at the unexpected attack. You rushed over and clubbed his hand that held the staff, kicking it far away when it was dropped. A chain then latches around its waist as it was pulled to the cloaked man, who delivered a quick kick to its stomach when it neared, sending it crashing to the wall.

That was so... exciting! You gasped at the thrill of the fight, slightly hopping and clapping at yourself as you smiled at the stranger with the widest grin you had mustered ever since you came back. His gait was tense when walked up to you, past you, in front of you as he looked around for any onlookers or dwellers of the night that had witnessed the commotion. “That was really cool, what kind of power was that? You look like you’ve done this multiple times before.”

You heard the most subtlest sigh when you were sure you whisked away his attention, slowly he turns to his side but not sparing you a direct view. From what you can tell, he wore a LOT of black under that black cloak. “You shouldn’t have stayed,” he started with a sigh as he finally turned to you fully, “Who knows what could have happened-”

“WATCH OUT!” You shoved him by the shoulder as you threw your slab with a force so mighty it broke the face of the mage, immediately disintegrating into ashes and dissipating with the wind. Under you your companion grunted from the pain of being thrown to the floor, and when he looked up, he was scrambling to catch you again.

The icicle impaled through your thigh coaxed out and coated with blood as dark spots danced on your vision from the pain and blood loss. The man pulled you up against his chest, hushed whispers of panic begging you to stay awake as he was wary of the shrapnel still in you.

But you were stubborn. And so you fainted.

The next day when you awoken in your bed, the night before would have easily been passed off as a fever dream if not for the bandaged injury on your leg that had you immobilized for days. When the citizens of Mond finally got a hold of you and asked about the incident, you gave them as much information as you could about your hero,

“He was an unknown hero that appeared at the dark of the night.”

Days passed by and you heard rumors in passing of the one named Darknight Hero. The name made you facepalm.

The faithful day happened three weeks after the encounter with the "Darknight Hero" when you finally recovered from your injury, able to walk around and do your daily rounds of work and deliver the paperwork of the margins of the sales and cost-effectiveness of your family's business in connection to Angel's Share. You had prepared so many documents all hailing from your numerous studies in the Academia, graphs and studies of the data Elzer had expertly combined for you lay in your arms in a bundle of folders.

The tower had to be carried by two hands, and you grunted as you bumped your bottom against the thick door of the tavern, using your hip to swing it open with mighty force. "Ugh, Charles, here's all the economic reports I finally finished after three week-" if not for the man himself, the floor of the tavern would have turned into a sea of papers as your fingers trembled and slackened at the sight.

His towering build, the thick main of red hair, it's all him. The moment the weight from your arms departed, you immediately stumbled over to him, eyes wide and mouth open to call out to him, "Diluc-!" But he flinched away from you instead of meeting you halfway through. And that slight movement halted you in your tracks, eyes wide with horror and pain from the rejection.

Diluc's eyes widened at the change, his gaze passing at Charles before back at you, reluctantly gesturing at your bandaged thigh he spoke, "You should be careful with that injury, don't want it to open up." His voice had a rough edge to it now, deeper yet still veiled with velvety smoothness.

"You're here," your disappointment from earlier was changed from the enlightenment of the situation. His jaw tightened at the sight of the tears that started falling from your eyes, "You're alive!"

Forced away by Charles with the promise of taking over the tavern for the day, you and Diluc took a stroll around the city. Enthusiastic of catching up, you talked endlessly about your years in the Academia and the last two years that you had stayed in Mondstadt before his arrival. Yet opposite of your upbeat chatter, Diluc stayed silent and forward-looking, offering only nods and grunts in between your pauses that asks him if he was still listening. Everytime your hand brushed his when you walked too close, he'd immediately pull his hand back and step away from your personal space.

It was a one-sided conversation. And it ended quickly as it had started.

You stood now at the stairs of the cathedral, overlooking the imposing statue of the Anemo archon. Your location made you remember something, and you opened up another topic, "Your brother, Kaeya told me about what happened four years ago." His apathetic gaze suddenly turned cold as his shoulders tensed. "Diluc, I'm sorry for what happened and-"

"He's not my brother, (Y/N)," you've never thought there would come a day when you'd hear such venom come from his sweet lips. Nor the cold glare that was now in full view, directed at you, "And you shouldn't go around trusting that guy, he's nothing but trouble."

The lump now stuck in your throat prevented you from responding, but you figured you didn't have the chance to do so anyways. As Diluc had ended his warning, he turned away and started walking back to the direction of the tavern, muttering something about work needed to be done.

You tried to reach for his hand before he could have gone too far, but you froze a few seconds away- and then he was gone, out of your grasp, leaving you alone at the steps of the cathedral without a look to spare.

Your cradled your hand to your chest as you felt your eyes water again, the overwhelming distance now opening the truth in your gaping heart as you wept in silence: The promise ring was missing from his hand.

Days had gone by after that where you sat in the background in idle wait, observing as subtle as you can be, hovering around him. The Diluc that you once knew was different from the Diluc who disappeared for four years, and the differences screamed at your face at every one you picked up:

His soft gaze now seems hardened and hooded, as cold as the cryo slimes and as deep as the ocean floor. Whenever you look at them, you always feel as tho he was years away, in a place unreachable. Even when they fall on you, there's a hidden emotion behind them, but they never once softened at the sight of you.

Around his hands were thick gloves of either pure red or another black-red variant. They were rough and never off, hot and grazed with years of use. It was different, so different from the white ones you had gifted him on his birthday. You placed a grape on his palm once and giggled at the memory, expecting him to look at you with recollection, but he only stared at the grape before shaking his head. And he turns away from you to get back at his work.

Diluc's hair was longer than you've ever seen before. It reached past the middle of his back when it had only grew by the shoulder when you've last seen it. It was fluffier and wilder, held up by a ponytail that you can't even see past the thickness. You loved running your hand through it before and Diluc had always felt at ease when you do that; you reached your hand out to touch the ends of his long hair, but he immediately turned to you before you could even feel it on the edge of your fingertips, caught by the cold squint of his eyes. No matter how many attempts, he always managed to stop you.

Another thing that had changed was his wardrobe. There were barely traces of the white knight aesthetic he had when you were still young, no, now he felt shrouded in the darkness of the knight. Made to blend with the shadows, he dons all black besides his undershirt. He resembles no trace of the knight he once was when you look at him.

The last detail you hated the most was the way he had been... secretive to you, and anyone in general. For this reason alone, you barely visited the Winery now, only coming there for business purposes or to converse with the servants that still remembered you. Whenever other matters were to be discussed, you're almost immediately ushered out by one of his men, no questions asked. This had became so commonplace that you started seeing yourself out the moment the air felt unwelcoming.

The more you notice, the more you felt farther away from the Diluc you knew. But this was the same man you loved, and still love. The grief had changed him, the disappearance had changed him, but nothing can change the fact that he was the same person that held your hand when it felt cold.

Speaking of, you clutched the hand you spoke of as you felt the breeze pass by you. The sea of Cecilias danced with an orchestrated flutter, as if singing to you in music of their petals grazing one another. Ah, you realized, this was the same exact place you first met Diluc.

"Is your hand cold again?" He spoke from the table under the gazebo where you delivered the perfectly arranged document. This time you dealt with the matter of tax revenue and compiled the business proposals of those that had attended the party he hosted with the seneschal.

You simply nodded and he sighed. The disappointment breaking your heart into a million pieces, "You should know by now to wear gloves or long sleeves whenever you're out. You must have gotten lackluster due to the climate of Sumeru, you should fix that."

You felt the tears bite at your eyes painfully again. As of recently, you've been crying a lot more than you had ever been in your life. And yet these ones flowed with ease, without a hiccup or a sob, almost liberating. "I'll be leaving for Fontaine tomorrow," the shuffling of the papers stopped behind you, "Flint will be handling the management of the franchise here, I've taught him the necessary computations so you can trust the reports he'll give to the Winery. Mother and father wants me to focus on the expansion of the business, after all."

There was a moment of silence before the shuffling began again and with that pushed the final sword into your heart. You bowed your head, smiling to the Cecilias that caught your tears in their petals, "Thank you for everything, make sure you take good care of yourself, okay?" You didn't know if you were talking to the Cecilias or Diluc.

But you felt lighter than ever, as if the last chain that pulled you down were finally broken.

And you took a small step, and then another, bigger one this time. For the first time since you're back to the city, you finally breathed in relief and without restraints.

Soon you were making distance and you were finally ready to go,

until a gloved hand pulled you back. Your gasp caught into your throat as your head whipped to stare at him, his eyes just as wide as yours. "What," he breathed out helplessly and you've noticed how short his breathing was, did he chase you? "What do you mean? You're not leaving forever, right?"

Forever. You felt the warmth of the gloved ones in your hand squeeze as you saw a faint light return in the depths of his glossy eyes, and you felt it—

The reassurance of your promise, as you squeezed back—

Underneath his thick gloves, red and black, you've finally noticed—

If he hadn't finally let his hand find yours, you wouldn't have felt the ring hidden underneath the cloth.

You beamed at him with eyes full of adoration and pure hope, of a grin pearly white that it almost shone as it caught the sun, he felt burned by it— but before he could escape, he was tackled to the ground with loud laughter.

@boxofteenageideas @creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

#genshin impact #exile.flower #genshin impact diluc #diluc x Reader #exile.pocketwatch #this may or may not have a part 3 #goodness this took so long and with so many errors #Actually teared up a bit skskskkss #genshin impact x reader

[bts-hyperfixation]

Soulmates

JJK X Reader soulmate AU

Warnings: Minor character death(car crash, only mentioned nothing graphic), Drinking

I don’t know if this is what you (the requester) were going for? this is somehow where I ended up

Everyone in this world has a soulmate. Someone that is meant to complete them and make them feel whole.

Your other half can be identified by the matching birthmark hidden somewhere on their body. There are also a lot of people whose marks are so close to matching that it almost feels like the real thing… almost. Sadly, many don’t ever get to experience the love of their true soulmate, so they settle for the closest they can get.

Jungkook was convinced he was one of the lucky few. Looking at her made his heart feel like it was going to burst. Every time he saw her the world got brighter, the birds started singing a little louder, and his stress nearly melted away entirely … nearly. But at 17 no one is going to pay attention to nearly.

Their birthmark’s matched so closely, each sporting a small puzzle piece on opposite wrists. You wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at the loved-up pair as they walked together hand in hand. And he loved her so completely, and her him, that they never thought to question it. Madly in love until the day she died.

Jungkook spent weeks almost comatose when the news of her car crash reached him. Couldn’t move, eat, sleep. To lose your soulmate so young was said to be a fate worse than never finding them at all. Even after coming through the other side people could tell he wasn’t the same carefree young boy he had been, most likely never would be again. His eyes’ looked far older than his years now, his soft features much more angular.

Three months after her death he resolve to never fall in love again, happy in the knowledge that he got to know her even for such a short amount of time.

….

You met Jungkook at a party. Someone from Uni decided that 24 was the right age for a big birthday bash. They hired out an entire club and set up a series of activities for people to enjoy. A mechanical ball on the main floor, a ball pit to the side, a BBQ in the smoking area, and a bouncy castle in the downstairs 90’s themed area. It really was an amazing event. You however spent most of your time watching the quiet Korean boy in the corner, every time his eyes met yours you felt compelled to move to him, talk to him, dance with him, anything that would get his attention on you. At the time you put it down to the alcohol. It took you exactly 3 and a half drinks to pick up the courage and interrupt his current conversation.

He was very sweet, really sweet considering he clearly didn’t want to be talking to you. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted and the nervous playing with his sleeves, still you persevered. Something about him wouldn’t let you give up, not yet at least. Your saving grace came when your favourite band came blaring over the speakers. “PRETTYMUCH” aren’t an underrated band per say but it’s difficult to find someone who knows them in your circle, so when Jungkook’s face lit up at the same time as yours you knew you had your in. So with the Phases remix blaring through the club you took your opportunity.

“I love this song!” You took his hand and pulled him on to the dance floor before you really realised that’s what you are doing. To start with he was frozen, a little shocked by your boldness, but as you gave it your all he joined in, loosening up for the first time that entire night. After that it was a lot easier to talk to him, you actually went into the smoking area to talk more about shared music interests.

After you went to get a drink you got caught up with some others and he came to find you. It felt like an electric shock when he’d grabbed your hand to get your attention, but there were a lot of balloons around so that would explain the residual electricity. By the time the party was over, and the club was closing, you didn’t want to leave him, not just now but ever. You found yourselves wandering around aimlessly, talking about nothing until the sun came up. Looking back it was then you decided Jungkook was it for you. You had never really believed in the soulmate tradition until you met him.

Weeks go by of you texting back and forth. You found out the reason he was so into music was because he was a musician himself, he even promised to perform for you sometime. A lot of promises were made in those messages.

‘There’s this amazing Restaurant in the city’ you claimed promising to take him with you next time.

‘I really want to see this movie’ he said promising to pay for tickets when it came out.

‘We should go see this band together’ The number one promise between the two of you, quickly racking up a lot of different acts to see together.

So when one of those bands turned up on the roster for the local you’d bought tickets immediately sending him the confirmation. Your stomach had fluttered thinking about seeing him in person again. And so you counted down the days as they passed. Picked and repicked your outfit. Talked yourself in and out of going. Eventually the day arrived. The doorbell signalling his arrival was deafening, ringing out through your small studio apartment. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door.

He was flawless, your tipsy memory hadn’t done him justice. A broad chest draped in a white long sleeve tee, ripped skinnies straining against his thighs, his hair swept into a James Dean quiff. You might’ve laughed at the way your outfits had accidently matched (a black crop with white skinnies) had you been capable of making a noise.

“Ready to go?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. You’d nodded, blushing when you realised you had been staring.

It was a short bus ride into the town centre. Spent in relatively comfortable silence arms brushing against one another in the limited space on the crowded vehicle. The club was packed wall to wall when you got inside, no hope of getting to the front of the crowd, or so you’d thought. Jungkook grabbed your hand winked at you and began heading in the opposite direction of the stage. He led you up some back stairs and on to a balcony you hadn’t ever noticed before.

“I’ve played here before, almost no one knows this is here, but it will give us the perfect view.” He dropped your hand in favour of leaning over the railing. You couldn’t help but feel cold at the loss. The performance was great, you found yourselves screaming lyrics back and forth at one another. Some people had cottoned on to your little hiding spot and soon it became as packed as the rest of the club. Whether he was trying to protect you from the others or he was pushed there you will never know, but Jungkook ended up caging you to the railing, head resting on your shoulder.

After the show you’d decided it was time to ask him how he felt. The club was still busy, but the two of you had been in a quiet corner on your own nursing drinks and chatting aimlessly.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You asked, broaching the topic carefully. You watched closely for his reaction, but he gave nothing away. Instead he just shrugged.

“I did once.” It was too blunt, you knew you should’ve stopped but you couldn’t, now you’d decided to tell him it was like verbal diarrhoea.

“I didn’t think I did, I mean I’ve never seen any ‘matching birthmarks’ and every couple I know is perfectly happy… but then I met you and I keep thinking about it, and you, and how I feel about you.” You watched as his face goes from pensive to a deer caught in the headlights.

“I… I have to leave now.” He got up and ran into the crowd before you even had a chance to reach for him. He dipped through a back entrance of the club and into the night before you could even push through the first layer of people.

The ride home had seemed a lot longer. Holding back tears had proved extremely difficult. Of all the reactions he could’ve given you that might’ve been the worst one. Somehow you found yourself thinking even him laughing in your face might’ve been better. You left the lights in your studio switched off that night. Made a beeline for your bed and passed out face down.

It would’ve felt like a bad dream when you woke up… if it hadn’t been for the crusty mascara tracking down your cheeks. You’d picked up your phone from where it lay abandoned next to you. Battery on 12%. You’d decided then it’d be best to run damage control, at least save the friendship.

Y/N: I’m sorry about last night…

You hadn’t expected his reply to be quick, so it’d surprised you when the typing bubbles appeared immediately; and furthered your sadness when they disappeared moments later without a message.

For days you spiralled. Going over the moment again and again in your head. Each replay turning the memory into something worse than the original.

Eventually you plucked yourself out of bed, deciding to face the problem head on and talk to the friend that invited you both to their birthday in the first place.

She met you at a café downtown during her lunch break. It was obvious by your red rimed eyes and sniffling nose that you had been crying but she was nice enough to ignore it for the most part. You caught up on her life for a little while until you physically couldn’t hold back anymore.

You told her exactly what had happened between you and JK, watching as her expression got both more understanding and pitying as you got closer to the end. Whatever you thought she was going to tell you was no where close to the story you got. You sat mouth wide open as she told you about the accident, and the way it affected Jungkook. It made you want to cry all over again. You didn’t know what to say once she had finished, stewing in your own thoughts for a while. The main thought that kept coming to the front of your mind was one that made you feel so evil. But you had to get it out

“What if she wasn’t really his soulmate. What if he was never meant for her” Its barely above a whisper but your friend heard it.

“He truly believes that she was” She replied squinting at you. Her break ended shortly after that leaving you alone with your thoughts.

…

It’s almost a month later when you see Jungkook again. Hadn’t heard a single thing from him since the concert but at least you knew why.

This time it was someone pool party. You honestly hadn’t been expecting to see him there. Didn’t even know you had mutual friends past that one girl. You didn’t think twice about your birthmark when you stripped down to your two piece. Why would you? Everyone has one. You were lay out on a sun-lounger with a drink when you spotted him. Tucked away in a corner once again, the only difference this time was his attention was already on you. He looked as good as ever, hair damp and slicked back, Long-sleeved neoprene shit covering his torso but trunks showing off his amazing thighs. You’d forced yourself to look away form him but could still feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore, too hot under the sun and his stare you decided to change out of your swimsuit into a sundress for the evening. Heading inside you found your way into someone’s bedroom to get changed. Perhaps you should’ve checked to see if the door the locked though, because just as you had wiggled out of the bikini top Jungkook burst into the room.

“Ah shit… Sorry… I um.” His hand had flown in front of his eyes as he’d slammed the door shut behind him and you’d immediately reached for the flimsy dress pulling it over you torso so he could reopen his eyes.

“What in the actual fuck Jungkook?” you whisper screamed not wanting to draw attention to the two of you hidden away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think… I just needed to see…”

“See what?! My boobs? I think you managed that one perv. You haven’t spoken to me in weeks and now all of a sudden you can’t wait long enough to knock.” You came across a lot meaner than you had meant, you just hadn’t been prepared for him to want to speak to you again.

“No I’m sorry I’ll go, this was a bad idea, I was probably seeing things anyway.” He mumbled looking sheepishly at the floor/

“No wait it’s okay, I really want to apologise don’t leave.” You took a deep breath and waited for his eyes to meet yours properly. When they did you could see the shock behind them.

“Why do you need to apologise? I’m the one that ran off, I never even told you why and I fucked up and I’m sorry I just…” You reached for him then, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and then realised it wasn’t your place, arm dropping heavily back to your side. “I felt so guilty with you, not because of you, because of me.” You nodded in understanding.

“I found about your soulmate after I confessed to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know. I never would’ve brought it up if I had known you had already found yours.” You’d broken eye contact with him then unable to watch the sadness in his eyes and not be able to do anything about it.

“That’s why I felt so guilty though because the way I feel about you is so similar to the way I felt about her, how I still feel about her deep down. I was so confused because you’re only supposed to get one soulmate, and if I could feel the same way about you in such a short time… it just feels like I’m betraying her by loving you.” He stepped forward reaching for your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. “The today when I saw your birthmark on your thigh I could’ve cried.” He uses his free hand to unzip the shirt he’d been wearing. He pulled his left arm from the sleeve exposing his birthmark to you. A puzzle piece to fit perfectly into your own.

You’d gasped at the revelation you were right. He was meant to be yours. And yet it didn’t feel right. The anguish on his face was clear, the internal fight he had obviously been having with himself ever since the concert.

“Letting yourself love me now doesn’t mean you loved her any less” you whispered, allowing yourself to move even closer to him, wrapping him in your arms. He’d nuzzled into your neck allowing tears to stream down his cheeks and onto your shoulder. You’d felt every bit of stress leave his body as he cried. Emotions he hadn’t even know he had been holding onto, finally letting himself really breath since he had lost her all those years ago.

You’d lost track of the time, just stood with him, holding him until the final few sniffles came. His cheeks had been puffy by and red when he pulled away, wiping his face on the sleeve still on his right arm.

“Do you want to leave? We can go back to mine” You’d asked carefully, not willing to let him go home alone after feeling like that. He’d nodded weakly, sliding his arm back into the shirt before taking your hand in his. You’d headed for the door only to be brought back by the hand he had on yours. He’d pulled you so close you could see the flecks of gold in his irises, watched your reaction before leaning in and kissing you. It was salty with left over tears, but you wouldn’t change you first kiss for the world. Everything felt like it clicked into place in that moment, the world tilted on its axis. The exchange was short lived, a chaste peck followed by a few smaller pecks before he let you lead him all the way home.

Masterlist

#JJK #Jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook soulmate #jeon jungkook #jungkook soulmate au

[peachtree-dish]

Chapter 6: Pesnami bene mentre ti sogno

05 Novembre 1969

Alberto giggled to himself as he read the latest contents of Luca’s letter. The new school year had certainly started with a bang, almost literally. Luca had openly described his conversation with Signora Mia about the concepts of human mating and had vocally expressed his bewilderment of the whole concept. Alberto could only imagine the embarrassment Luca had felt during that discussion, although a part of him felt warm that his friend would trust him enough to talk about it. While he wasn’t necessarily an expert on human mating or romance, nothing that Luca wrote to him about it had shocked him. Alberto would need more than two hands to be able to count how often his father had dismissed him from the tower when he brought a new mate around. Pushing the memory away, the teen resolved that that part of the letter would remain unshared with the rest of the family. Shifting on his bed, Alberto held the letter closer to his bedside candle and continued reading.

‘I wish I could say that was the craziest part of my week, Berto. But, just a few days ago, we made a new acquaintance with a girl from Giulia’s grade level. Her name is Luisa, and guess what? She’s like us! Another sea monster, except her famiglia’s from southern Italy…’

“What!?” Alberto yelled, nearly ripping the letter in half in surprise. He winced, remembering the late hour and he waited for a moment, praying that he hadn’t woken Massimo. When the house remained still, he frantically went back to reading the letter, his hands trembling with anticipation.

‘She gets along really well with Giulia and Dante; Giulia especially because she threatens anyone who seems remotely threatening, which is kind of ironic. Luisa doesn’t like to talk about her life before coming to Genoa, so I don’t ask. Some kids at school say mean things to her, they say these ugly words about her skin. I don’t understand why humans are so focused on appearances, caro; fish come in all colors and shapes, but they’re still fish. I guess I thought humans would think the same way…’

“Not everyone is as good as you, that’s why,” Alberto mumbled, he smiled warmly.

‘Bene, I guess that’s all I have for now. Can’t wait to hear from you!

Il vostro,

Luca’

Alberto’s heart fluttered in his chest every time he read those closing remarks. He knew Luca didn’t mean it that way, but just for a moment, he could pretend that Luca really was his, as much as he was Luca’s. He skimmed back over the pages of the letter, still shocked by Luca’s revelation. He hadn’t realized there was other sea folk out in the world, but he guessed it made sense.

Tucking the letter under his pillow, the teen resolved to talk to the Paguro family in the afternoon after fishing. Perhaps they would have an idea about Luisa’s situation.

The water felt warm and inviting as it hugged Alberto’s scaled form. He stretched languidly, ever amazed at how water could make him feel. Warm laughter reached his ears and Alberto grinned at the voice.

“Enjoying yourself, ragazzo?” Alberto lazily faced Luca, feeling unhurried to respond immediately. Luca rolled his eyes and swam forward to slide his tail along with Alberto’s, the feeling causing his nerves to tingle and his gills to flap nervously. He reached his hand out, wrapping his hand around Luca’s waist and pulling his body towards his own. Alberto wrapped himself around his best friend, nuzzling the sensitive area between Luca’s jaw and gills. Luca hummed approvingly, his hands gliding and pulling against Alberto’s scaled hair in such a way that had Alberto gasping out. His body was beginning to feel unbearably warm and light, like a fire was beginning in his stomach and spreading outward.

“Luca,” he whined against his friend’s shoulder, desperate to bring him closer. Luca pressed a smiling kiss against the corner of Alberto’s mouth.

“Pazienzia, tesoro. No need to be so desperate,” Luca chuckled while he trailed his hands down Alberto’s sides, his nose rubbing deliberately against Alberto’s. When his lips finally closed the distance, the older teen was too far gone, his mind fogged with delirious pleasure. Luca’s mouth was hot as he opened under Alberto, encouraging him wordlessly. He pulled away and grinned down at Alberto’s flustered face, he flexed his claws against Alberto’s chest, the pain catching him off guard.

“Hey, wait, that hurts-” Luca’s claws flexed again, puncturing his scales.

With a yelp, Alberto woke up to find a very large, very angry cat gripping the front of his shirt. Machiavelli growled disapprovingly at Alberto before releasing his claws and scurrying to the end of the bed.

“Maledetto gatto,” Alberto grumbled as he rubbed his sore chest. The 15-year-old monster wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for the wake-up call or distressed that there was a chance Machiavelli knew exactly what he had been dreaming about. His cheeks were still flushed with excitement, and he didn’t need to look down to know he was having a mild situation. He was surprised to see patches of scales blooming across his skin from where sweat had gathered in his sleep, and he quickly shook himself to clear the evidence. Outside was still dark, but that didn’t mean Massimo wouldn’t come looking for him soon.

Alberto stood awkwardly and went to the window to press his hot forehead against the glass, willing his body to calm down. The guilt inevitably came once he remembered the contents of his dream. It wasn’t right of him to think of Luca that way or to have such feelings. How would Luca react if he knew? Alberto scrubbed his hand down his face in frustration.

You always were a troubled child, Berto. Why do you think I left you?

Alberto growled, stubbornly pushing his father’s voice away. Luca would never find out, it was as simple as that.

“Come on, Alberto,” He mumbled to his reflection in the glass, “you’re an expert at hiding things.”

As the stars began to fade behind the rays of the morning sun, Massimo would find Alberto wide awake and dressed for their morning fishing, two cups of caffè steaming on the table beside him. Though Alberto was excellent at hiding his emotions, Massimo knew when he was hurting, and the thought troubled his old heart.

“Sea monsters from the south, eh?” Lorenzo stared wide-eyed at Alberto as he poured rich, red wine into small glasses for the adults at the table, while Alberto, Ciccio, and Guido drank Coca-Cola respectively.

“That’s what Luca wrote. He said Luisa and her family are from the Sicilian coast, they moved to Genoa not too long ago.”

“I had no idea we had people that far south,” Daniela mused, she looked just as shocked as her husband. Her mother scoffed from beside her, Nonna’s cheeks already flushed red from the alcohol. Alberto wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already been drinking before she’d arrived.

“Of course, we sea folk are everywhere,” Nonna harrumphed, her round belly bouncing with the effort. “The problem is that we’re too damn good at not getting found.” She paused to contemplate, “At least that was the case up until last year.”

“Wait, does that mean there are even sea monsters in Antarctica?” Guido pressed, his hands were clutched tightly around his coke glass, the heat coming from them fogging up the sides.

Nonna shrugged before taking a sip of wine, “Probably. You humans have to understand that we’re a very adaptable people and we’ve been hiding from you for millennia.”

“And just how do you know about all this, Ma?”

“Cara, you know I love you, but my horizons were a lot wider before you came along. Where do you think Luca got his buon senso from?” Daniela tsked while Nonna smugly drank from her glass.

“It makes sense if you think about it,” Ciccio piped up. Several sets of eyes turned to him, and the poor teen shrank into his chair. “Humans have been migrating all around the world since the beginning, and so do animals. It seems only natural that your species would do the same.” He trailed off as everyone stared at him in shock. Ciccio wasn’t known to speak often or for so long.

“Ciccio, I had no idea there was more than dough in that curly head of yours,” Guido wrapped a supportive arm around the blonde’s shoulders and wiped an imaginary tear. “I’m so proud.” Ciccio rolled his eyes, but he relaxed into his chair while everyone laughed good-naturedly.

Alberto glanced at Massimo who had not said one word throughout the exchange, which for the mountainous man was not unusual. However, he also hadn’t drunk any of his wine and that was abnormal. The young sea monster tilted his head at the man, confident that he would sea his unspoken question. Massimo nodded his head slightly and cleared his throat, the action catching the attention of everyone present.

“Something seems off about Luisa’s situation, I think Luca needs to proceed with caution.” With that said, he tossed the wine back and tapped the glass on the table before excusing himself. Alberto frowned in confusion, finding the behavior odd. He was not left any time to dwell on it when Guido spoke from beside him.

“Do you think Luca’s going to ask her out?”

“What?” Alberto immediately zeroed in on the conversation as Lorenzo and Daniela shared an eager look.

“Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely?” Daniela cooed.

“What makes you think he even likes her?” Alberto grimaced, his voice coming out louder than intended. He gave a shaky laugh as the Paguro family turned to him in shock.

“I mean, they’ve just met, you can’t assume his feelings from one letter.”

“Ah, all it takes is a little time.” Lorenza waved his hand in dismissal.

“Don’t worry, Alberto caro, you’ll still have your best friend!” Daniela assured, misreading his upset, “Besides, once you find yourself a nice girl, you can all hang out together!” Alberto stared open-mouthed at the older monster, completely floored at her assumptions.

He desperately wanted to tell her, tell them all, that it wasn’t okay! It wouldn’t be the same, and there would never be a girl for him to find. But he couldn’t voice all that, not yet most likely never. They’d never accept you if you did, his father sneered. They’d be repulsed and remove Luca from your life permanently. Nonna Paguro watched the scene unfold with a frown and when her gaze landed on Alberto, he froze. He felt that she knew exactly what he was thinking, and the thought silenced his frustration, replacing it with ice-cold dread. Relaxing and placing a confident grin on his face, he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Heh, sure.” He slumped back in his seat before aggressively pulling his drink towards him and slurping loudly, too afraid of leaving his mouth unoccupied. Beside him, Ciccio and Guido shared a look of concern before speaking once more.

“Hey, Alberto, why don’t you come back to my papa’s garage tonight and we can continue working on Signore Massimo’s pickup?” Guido placed a comforting hand on the teen’s shoulder. “We can run through the mechanics again to prepare you for the colder season, si?”

Momentarily distracted, Alberto scoffed, “As if I’d ever forgotten, stupido!” Guido grinned and nodded.

“I thought as much. We’ll catch you later then.” Politely excusing themselves and taking their bottles with them, the pair left quickly. Alberto also excused himself from the group, eager to escape Nonna’s penetrating stare and the giddy conversation of both Daniela and Lorenzo.

He found Massimo outside, repairing the nets and removing the knots that stubbornly clung to one another. For all his clever ways of overcoming his disability, there were still certain things that the old fisherman struggled with. The nets continued to slip from his fingers as the man impatiently tried to pull the knots free using his good hand and teeth. Quietly, Alberto sat next to him and picked up the net to begin loosening the knots.

“You repair, I’ll untangle.” He chanced a look at Massimo, whose only response was to quirk an eyebrow approvingly before returning to his portion. After working together in silence for a time Alberto finally spoke, his racing thoughts becoming too much for the silence of his mind.

“Why don’t you trust Luisa?” He asked softly, eyes trained solely on his work. Massimo paused in what he was doing before resuming. When he eventually spoke, his words were stilted.

“Perhaps I am overthinking… I worry that she does not share so much with Luca or my figlia. Luisa’s situation is unique, vero, but I worry about the things she is not saying.” Alberto sat for a moment, Massimo’s words rolling through his mind like the waves on the beach.

“She seems to be okay, though. I don’t think she wants to hurt anyone, especially one of her own kind.” Massimo hummed in agreement.

“Si, but even the brightest days can threaten rain.” He turned to look at Alberto, the net forgotten in his lap. “Do your people know about our Great Wars?” When Alberto shrugged in confusion, the older man continued.

“Before you were born, when I was around your age, my country went to war for something that we thought was right. Our leaders told us one thing but then would act differently. Looking back, I realize they were foolish, selfish men who caused the death of many good people.” Massimo twisted his net bitterly. “I just don’t want Luca or my Giulietta getting hurt by any more lies.” Alberto squirmed slightly, his mind reflecting on his own secrets.

A secret isn’t a lie, he grumbled mentally. His gut feeling disagreed heavily with him on that.

“I know Luca would never let anything happen to Giulia, so I don’t think you have to worry about them. I’d be more concerned for Luisa if she ever tries something; Giulia is terrifying.” Massimo chuckled heartily and clapped Alberto on the shoulder with his massive hand.

“Buon punto, figlio mio. She gets it from her mother, I think.” Alberto smiled, feeling warm at Massimo’s words.

He’d never consider you a son if he knew the truth about you, Alberto’s father chuckled darkly. He’d be disgusted if he knew how vile you really are. Alberto grimaced and muttered, “Silenzio, Bruno,” under his breath.

“Cosa?” Massimo hummed in confusion.

“Oh, niente. Is it all right if I go see Ciccio and Guido tonight, they wanted to work on the Hudson?” He eagerly changed the subject

“Of course, Alberto. Just be back before it gets too late, si?”

Alberto nodded and stood to brush the dust from his pants. “Grazie, I’ll be back on time, I promise.”

Turning the key, Alberto relaxed into the seat as the engine rumbled, its vibrations easing the tension in his body. Mechanics were simple, which is why Alberto loved them so much. The Hudson lazily made its way through the streets of the town, climbing the steep hill until it nearly reached the top where Guido lived with his parents. Ciccio and Guido were waiting for him under one of the garage’s many lights. On either side of them lay cars and Vespas alike, all dormant and a few with parts strewed on or under them.

At the sound of the Hudson’s engine, both teens eagerly raced to the driver’s side. Within moments, the truck’s hood was popped, and each boy began working on separate parts of the vehicle. Guido knew more about cars and engines from his father, but Alberto listened intently each time the brunette explained things. He had been such a quick learner that Guido’s father insisted that he train under him during the winter months when the fishing was light enough for Massimo to do on his own.

Signore Capellino was a tall, slender man with a long face and stern eyes. At one point he had held a harpoon aimed at both Luca and Alberto as they stood surrounded in Porto Rosso’s plaza, but once he knew Alberto, his prejudices had all but disappeared. Especially when he discovered Alberto’s interest in mechanics.

“I worked in Caproni’s company during the war,” he once explained to Alberto while working on the engine of a beat-up convertible, “the planes we built were arte, and then our government took them and filled them with bombs.” He spat on the ground. “we were making history in those days, ragazzo!”

Alberto had no idea who Caproni was, but he figured he must have been important for Signore Capellino to feel so strongly about it.

Back in the present, Alberto was twisting off bolts from the connecting rod of the engine. Years of grime and dirt creating a slimy glue that kept the bolts stubbornly in place.

“So, are you going to tell us what’s really bothering you?” Guido’s voice startled him from his efforts. He leaned out from behind the driver’s seat to peer at Alberto. Shrugging, Alberto returned to the engine, using the hood to hide his expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bah, you are as stubborn as those bolts, amico. We’ve watched you pout every time Luca leaves for nine months, but you seem even more rovesciato than usual.” Alberto gaped at him, feeling indignant.

“I don’t pout!”

“You do.” Ciccio’s voice sang from under the engine. Feeling resentful, Alberto sprayed oil in the general direction of the blond boy, feeling vindicated when he shouted in surprise.

“Is it a sea monster thing?” Guido pressed gently. Alberto sighed, trying to stave off the wave of panic rising in his chest.

“Not exactly, more of an Alberto thing.” He pressed his lips in a thin line, feeling thoroughly trapped.

Guido sighed, “Okay, you don’t have to say anything, but,” He held up a finger, “when you are ready to talk about it, we’ll be here.” Alberto chuckled, his chest feeling lighter. Guido and Ciccio were good people, and he was lucky to have them.

“Grazie, ragazzi I appreciate it.” And he meant it. In the back of his mind, Alberto wondered if he would ever be able to voice his fears. Perhaps not, but if the day ever came, he could trust that Guido and Ciccio would be there and that was enough.

16 novembre, 1969

“Buon cumpleanno, caro.” Luca’s voice was like a lifeline after weeks without a phone call. Alberto clung to it with his whole soul.

“Thanks, Luca. How are you?”

“Cold but surviving.” Luca chuckled.

“I hear ya, it’s storming like crazy here.” A clap of thunder sounded overhead, confirming Alberto’s words. Behind him Massimo was serving slices of birthday cake to the Paguros and Guido and Ciccio, his booming voice a comfortable sound.

“Is your birthday going well so far, anything exciting?”

“Machiavelli managed to steal my knife, and that was definitely a scene to witness.” Luca laughed loudly on his end, the image of the fat cat being chased while holding such a dangerous object was something he was sad to miss.

“I hope you were able to get it back,” He teased.

“Actually, the maledetto gatto is holding me hostage as we speak. He was very adamant that I call you.”

Luca’s heart ached with yearning. “Well, even if he’s holding you hostage, I’m grateful he insisted.”

“Me too,” Alberto huffed a laugh, grateful no one could see his burning face.

“I meant to tell you, I’ve been asked to work as an assistant to the teacher. Because of my financial situation, the school agreed that the hours I work with her will lessen my expenses.” The words rushed out with such force, Luca was forced to take a breath, “I was hoping you’d pass the word onto Signore Massimo so that he won’t have to worry about sending as much money anymore.”

Alberto’s praise stuck in his throat thickly, stopping any words from passing through. He had never told Luca where the money had come from, it was unfair of him to assume Luca would know where it had come from. There was that tight feeling in Alberto’s chest again, the one where he felt close to saying something stupid.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that, although I’m sure he wouldn’t mind continuing to send it to you. He, uh, he really cares, ya know?”

“I know, but I feel so guilty for taking something that isn’t mine, caro.”

It’s as much yours as it is mine, tesoro. Alberto thought desperately

“O-okay, I’ll let him know.” His voice cracked. “I hope you know how proud of you I-we all are.”

“How could I forget? You tell me in every letter. I’m proud of you too.” His warm laughter reminded Alberto of his dream and he shook his head, too afraid that Luca would somehow know. You wouldn’t be proud of me then, he thought miserably.

“By the way, did you get my gift?” Luca asked excitedly. Alberto relaxed again, eyes finding the small, hand-painted Vespa sitting innocently on the edge of the table. Its blue paint glittering amidst the butcher paper that had been wrapped messily around it. In his mind’s eye, he could imagine Luca hunched over the parcel, trying to wrap and tape the paper neatly. The thought caused a grin to split across his face.

“I did, and I love it, grazie mio caro amico.”

“Giulia helped me paint it and Luisa picked out the colors. She said the blue reminded her of how I spoke of you.”

Alberto’s smile dropped instantly. “Oh.”

“Yeah, she’s got a good eye for colors like Signora Mia, they love to talk about art all the time.” Alberto bit his lip as he listened to his best friend ramble on, the tight feeling growing in his chest.

“Hey, Luca, I need to go, they’re calling for me.” He hated himself.

“Oh.” Luca stopped, his shock apparent. “O-okay, I’ll talk to you on New Year’s Eve?”

“Of course, I’ll talk to you soon.” The feeling was spreading to his fingertips, making them numb.

“I miss you.” The words were whispered so softly, Alberto almost missed them. With a surge, the feeling was swept back by a tidal wave of warmth.

“I miss you, too.” His voice was thick with emotion, and he pressed the phone closer, trying to get as close to Luca as possible.

“Seven months,”

“Four days,” Alberto instantly responded.

“Five hours,” Luca laughed.

“Sixteen minutes a-a-and thirty-two seconds,” Alberto grinned, tears spilling over his cheeks.

“Arrivederci, Alberto.”

“Arrivederci, Luca.”

The line went silent.

#luca #pixar luca #luberto #alberto scorfano #disney #luca 2021 #giulia marcovaldo #alberto x luca #luca fanfiction #queer fanfiction #young romance #a te che sei il mio grande amore

[the-bau-quinjet]

Breakable Heaven

Chapter 11 of In Breakable Heaven! We’re getting to the part that inspired the whole idea for this series, so I’m pretty excited!

Summary: Reader deals with the repercussions of being abducted.

Warnings: hospital recovery (I don’t know if that needed a warning but just in case), nothing else I can think of

Word Count: ~2100

You were wheeled out of the classroom on a stretcher, not fully conscious but not completely out of it either. Spencer stood frozen in the corner, watching as the medics loaded you onto the stretcher and wheeled you out of the room. You wanted nothing more than to be able to tell him you were okay, but you couldn’t form the words.

Waking up in the hospital was confusing. It took a lot of effort to open your eyes, but once you did you were instantly alert. The overhead lights put you on edge. The whole experience reminded you of how it felt when the trunk opened in the parking lot.

 Your heartrate spiked, alerting the nurses to your anxious state. They rushed in the room, taking your vitals and administering medicine through your IV to calm you down, effectively putting you back to sleep.

 Unsurprisingly, Penelope was first in the room the second visitors were allowed. You could tell it was her from the sound of her shoes clicking against the tile floor of the hospital.

 “Hey Pen.” You smiled at her, glad to see someone you recognize after waking up this time around.

 “You’re up! That’s good! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Do you need anything? I can go get the doctor! Or a nurse!” She turned around, ready to get anything you might need.

 “Pen! It’s fine. Just sit with me, please?” You shifted slightly, grimacing.

 “Of course. Of course! Anything.” She moves farther into the room, settling down into the chair next to your bed.

 “How’s um…” You want to ask about Spencer, but you don’t know how without outing your relationship, something you’re not sure Spencer wants at the moment. “How’s everyone doing?”

 “Oh, sweetie, they’re great! We didn’t have any new cases, so they’re all stuck doing paperwork.” She’s all smiles, unknowingly confusing you. If he isn’t on a case, why isn’t Spencer visiting you?

 “Oh, good. I’m glad they’re getting a break. They deserve it.” Your smile is weak, but thankfully Penelope assumes it’s from the pain.

 The two of you keep talking, Penelope showing you videos of cute animals to help cheer you up, for a few hours before she has to leave. Just as she’s standing up to go, JJ walks into the room.

 “Hi, Y/N.” You laugh at the timing.

 “Hi JJ. Fancy seeing you here as soon as Pen is leaving.” Your first genuine smile of the day graces your lips.

 “Why, you didn’t think I’d leave you all alone did you? We’re taking turns. I’ll be back!” With a wave and a smile, she’s out the door. JJ takes her spot in the chair, leading you through the same conversation as earlier.

 The next few days repeat like that until you’ve healed enough to leave the hospital. Every member of the team took a turn visiting you except for one. The one you wanted to see more than anyone else.

 Penelope drove you back to your apartment, offering to walk you all the way up.

 “It’s okay, Pen. I can handle it. I just want to get back to normal.” You leant over the middle console to hug her before getting out of the car.

 “Y/N?”

 “Yeah?”

 “I never asked before, but I’ve been wondering...” Penelope trailed off, not knowing how to word her question.

 “What is it?” Her show of nerves was putting you on edge.

 “What was the phone call about? The one right before you were taken. You just looked so happy in the footage, I thought maybe if you remembered it you might have something to smile about.” She sounded so genuine, you didn’t know how to tell her it would only hurt more.

 “Oh, ya know… I- uh, I don’t remember.” You stuttered through your response.  “Thank you though. I know you’re worried about me, but you don’t need to be. I’ll be okay.” You smiled, turning around before she could see the tears welling up in your eyes.

 The walk up to your apartment was the first time you had a moment to yourself since everything happened. It gave you a chance to really think about why Spencer wouldn’t have come to visit you. Unfortunately, you could only think of one reason that actually sounded plausible.

 You shake your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts as you pull out your keys. You walk into your apartment, the darkness forcing you to realize how alone you felt.

 --

 You don’t remember falling asleep, but an insistent knocking on your front door wakes you up.  

You shuffle towards the door from your place on the couch, sparing a second to glance through the peephole. You open the door without a greeting, simply leaving it open and returning to the couch.

 Spencer walks in, closing the door behind him. He stares at you in silence, unsure how to begin this conversation.

 “Y/N…” He expected you to turn towards him when he spoke, but you remained face down on the couch. You knew what was coming and you couldn’t deal with it. “How are you?”

 That surprised you. You mostly expected him to break up with you and run, not check up on you first. Maybe you were wrong to expect the worst. Maybe he just didn’t want to out your relationship, but him not visiting you left a sour taste in your mouth. Especially because you know he was in Quantico with the rest of the team.

 “Funny, you would know if you bothered to visit. What? You didn’t want the team to figure it out that bad? Hell, Hotch visited me and I barely know the man!” You started mumbling into the couch, but your emotion intensified as you spoke. You rolled over, sitting up to look at him.

 “No, that’s not why… I didn’t want to visit you because I… I didn’t want to...” He looked physically pained by the words he was trying to say. “I didn’t want to break up with you in the hospital.” He finished the sentence, not even looking at you.

 “You what?” Your voice broke on the two word sentence. His words were like a slap in the face, surprising you after his gentle opening of the conversation.

 “I think we should break up.” He said it with more resolve this time, as if he had practiced saying it with no emotion.

 You could feel your breathing speeding up, trying to push back the tears you knew were coming. “But why? What happened? We were going to get dinner? I thought you were happy? I thought we were happy?” Your words were rushed in an attempt to make sense of the situation unfolding in front of you.

 “We can’t be happy together. It just won’t work.” Spencer’s words felt so cold. He stood in front of you emotionless while you felt as though the world was crumbling around you.

 “That doesn’t make any sense. Spence, where is this coming from? This is so different from the last time we talked, a complete 180- No.  540 because we’ve gone all the way around and then kept spinning!” You were more confused than anything, unable to understand why he was saying these things.

 “It’s just how it has to be. Goodbye.” He turned and left without another word, leaving you to piece together where it all went wrong.

 You sat on the couch, staring at the door as if he would walk back in and say it was all a dream, that he was happy with you, and everything would be fine as long as you were together.

 You stared, unmoving, until the beginnings of daylight began to filter into your apartment through the curtains. The sounds of people getting ready for their days began to filter through your apartment building as you drifted off to sleep.

 --

 When you woke up later that night, everything felt like a dream, the only reminder being the dried tears on your face. You spent the next few days trying to figure out what went wrong, but every single time you came up empty.

 Penelope came by to visit you every chance she got, but you never told her about you and Spencer. Even when she told you how he has been acting off.

 “How’s the rest of the team doing?” You asked in an attempt to learn about Spencer.

 “Oh, they’re fine. Wrapped up another case yesterday. Apparently Spencer was acting a bit off though, nobody can get him to talk about it. I think Hotch and Rossi have an idea about it, but they wouldn’t budge when I asked.” She supplied you with the information you were craving.

 “Off? What do you mean?” You tried your best to sound nonchalant as you prodded for more information.

 “He just seems a little sad, but whenever anybody asks him what’s wrong he gets defensive. It’s typical Spencer behavior. Someone will get through to him eventually, and he’ll open up. Derek and I were theorizing, and he thinks it has to do with his secret girlfriend. Speaking of opening up though, have you considered therapy? I know you said you don’t want to talk about what happened, but I think it could be good for you to get it off your chest! I mean, you’re not even listening to music anymore! I just want you to be happy again, and I know it’ll take some time because you went through a trauma, but talking about it helped me when I was shot, and I know everybody deals with things differently, so don’t feel like you have to go talk to someone, I just want to help in any way I can, even if that means-”

 “Pen, I actually scheduled an appointment for tomorrow.” You smiled at your friend, cutting off her rambling. Dealing with the breakup on your own has actually been more difficult than dealing with the kidnapping. At least you could talk to Penelope about your feelings regarding being kidnapped and tortured, but bottling everything else up inside was not healthy.

 “That’s good. I’m really glad you’re taking the necessary steps to move on and heal.” She replied, smiling again.

 “Thanks Pen.” You couldn’t help but wonder what she would say if she knew the whole truth.

 --

 After a week off, you went back to work at the bookstore. You just wanted things to be as normal as possible. That was kind of hard with the media circus surrounding your kidnapping, but you did your best.

 You were actually unprepared for the media involvement. From your perspective, the case was over before it really began. You were only “missing” for about 5 hours, but it’s difficult to keep a case quiet when the suspect was shot and killed in a public high school. It’s one of the things you worked through in your therapy appointments.

 After your first appointment, you scheduled another for later in the week. You decided to go twice a week for a month while things were still so fresh, and then you decreased it to once a week.

 After about a month of therapy, you decided to do another cover show. Your therapist helped you work through the emotions enough that you could once again turn to music to heal. After scheduling the show, you called Penelope to invite her and the rest of the team.

 “Hey Pen! Are you busy this Saturday?” You surprised yourself with how happy you sounded.

 “Not unless a case pops up, but right now everything looks clear. What did you have in mind?”

Penelope wasn’t oblivious to your happy attitude, but ultimately she decided not to mention it for fear of putting a damper on things.

 “I’m actually going to do a mini-show, just three songs, but I wanted to invite you and the team! I think it will be really cathartic for me to get all of this out in the open.” You planned the three songs with your therapist. It would be a way for you to tell Spencer everything you were feeling. He wouldn’t answer your calls or texts, and he might not even come to the show, but you decided you needed to get your feelings out there even if he wasn’t there to hear them.

 “That’s wonderful! I’ll make sure everyone is there!” Penelope couldn’t hold in her joy as she squealed in delight.

 “Thanks Pen, but don’t force anyone. Only if they want to come!” Your words were playful, but you didn’t want Spencer to feel like you were forcing him to come through Penelope.

 “Okay, fine. But I’m still going to pester!”

 The two of you hung up the phone, eagerly awaiting Saturday.

tag list:

@mac99martin​ @goldeng1rl8 @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets1967 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean @awkwardnesshabitat @loveheathens @fan-girl-97 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @akuri-shinsou @prongsyy @panhoeofmanyfandoms

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

[maxwell-grant]

Have you read the short story Norvell Page wrote as a wedding present for a Big Name Fan about Dick and Nita's first meeting? Any thoughts on it? My main is that Page does not go where you expect him to based on that description.

I did! Actually it was one of the first Spider stories I read. And yeah, to an extent, it's absolutely not what you'd expect from something set in The Spider's world. And on the other hand, it's absolutely what makes the most sense for these two characters. Because, yeah, Norvell Page could have done what he usually does, and written some over-the-top action where Dick and Nita happen to meet during it.

But no, that wouldn't work. Because, for all the turmoil and chaos in The Spider, for everything that he and Nita go through, there are many times when, sturdier even than Dick's resolve is their love for each other, the deep understanding and affection that carries them through hell itself time and time again.

And so, when it was time to showcase how such a romance started, Page wisely deviated from his usual narrative style, and instead told a very, very intimate and personal story, a long and extended conversation between the two, and more importantly, between Page and the reader. Between The Spider, and You, peering into The Spider through the eyes of Nita van Sloan.

I think for a start, it's an interesting coincidence that this meeting takes place on a cruise ship, and it involves Dick rescuing Nita from suicide. I say this because Margo Lane's first meeting with Lamont Cranston, in the pulps, was stated to have taken place on a cruise ship, and of course, the first time we see The Shadow in the pulps, he's rescuing Harry Vincent from suicide, and both Harry and Margo are The Shadow's main supporting characters. I'm not saying it was intentional, but it's an interesting fact. And more so because Dick doesn't really rescue Nita.

Her scarf whipped in the wind on deck, and it blinded her... and a hand touched her arm, and a voice spoke to her.

"If it's intentional, don't let me stop you," the voice said, "but you're heading straight for suicide."

Nita looked then at the stop toward which, blindly, she was going, and it was a chain barrier beyond which was the sea. And she looked at the man who had stopped her and it was Richard Wentworth. And his words had been a shock to her.

"You wouldn't try to dissuade me from suicide?" she asked.

Wentworth's brows were tilted whit a hint of mockery, but his eyes were very grave. "Every man is master of his own soul, and hence of his body," he said. "And your eyes are wide open and awake. So it would be a considered action. I'm not sure, under those circumstances, that I would have a right to meddle in another's business."

Nita said, "I think you can help me."

Wentworth shook his head. "Only you can help yourself," he said, "but it may be that someone else could help you find the way."

The whole text is a great example of how wonderfully realized of a character Nita van Sloan is in ways so unlike the typical pulp or superhero girlfriends at the time, because the text is written from her perspective, and half of the text reads like an extended character breakdown of who Nita is as a character and person. And the other half of the text is almost entirely comprised of Dick Wentworth spouting philosophy and talking in-depth about his reading of her and what's upsetting her, talking about God and fate and so on. And like so many other attempts to explore serious theological/psychological/philosophical/etc concepts explored through pulp fiction, half of it is bullshit, and half of it is fascinatingly disturbing and thought-provoking bullshit.

"Self-contempt," Wentworth's words were very quiet now. "Is second only to self-pity among the greater sins. Self-analysis is a dangersous thing. You need so much charity. And any person who is advanced enough to think about himself at all is apt to be over-stern in his judgment of himself."

He said to her, "If you don't honor youself, who will honor you?" And, a few moments later, "There is conceit in ruling others, but none in mastering yourself." And, "There is no arrogance so great as self-righteousness."

Nita clashed with him violently, "You are being self-righteous in judging me!"

Wentworth laughed. "I am speaking only truism. It is you who judge yourself, not I." He was serious, then. "My dear," he said, "I would be presumptuous to try to teach you. No man can teach another. But one who has been along that same trail would be less than a man if he failed to mark certain signposts and certain places where there is water to drink so that another, traveling that same road, may know where another struggled and what he has learned. But, as no man can travel a road for another, so no man can teach another. You must work out your own salvation."

"That sense of separation between the inner and outer self," Nita rushed on, "between yourself and the world ... while you were talking, I could almost feel that difference disappearing. The feeling is gone now, but ..."

"All progress is three steps forward and two back," Wentworth said, slowly, "and this is good because thus all ground is three-times covered and triply learned."

And I should probably clarify by this point that, it's not so much Dick Wentworth talking in this story, as it's Norvell Page himself. In fact, he admits as much in another letter he had sent to his readers that he was prone to talking philosophy by this point.

There was a time when the burden of writing just one more Spider seemed too much to undertake. (After all, the magazine is in it's ninth year!) But I never feel that way any more. I know now that the Spider actually does help people; that there are those who appreciate his idealism even though it is expressed in violence.

Especially in the last half dozen Spiders, beginning with the 100th I believe, I have tried very earnestly to teach a little of the philosophy and faith, of which we all need so much in these days.

Here's the thing about The Spider: It's not that the character is mad. Well, okay, he IS mad, I don't pull these over-the-top maniacal cartoon meme descriptions out of thin air, but that's because he lives in a batshit insane disaster horror world where there IS no sane response other than joining the carnage to overcome it. It's not just that Wentworth who is a madman. It's that Norvell Page was a mad man, and Dick Wentworth was Norvell's Page alter-ego, by the man's own admission.

Friends have informed me that I moved about the company as one in a trance: there were some who were concerned about my health, so oddly did I behave. Of course, only my body attended that occasion. My mind was entirely engrossed in Dick Wentworth's big problem - back in my study on a sheet of paper stuck in my typewriter

I did not dream that night; in the morning I restlessly paced my floor thinking, thinking, thinking. I sat down at the typewriter, stared at the words and the keys. Suddenly, as if by magic, Dick Wentworth seemed to move of his own volition. My hands raised, my fingers literally flew over the keyboard.

No matter how ridiculous it seems, I will always feel that Dick Wentworth, creature of my own fabrication, guided me through that tough scene.

No two people can live together without being influenced by each other to some extent. So constantly has Wentworth been in my mind, it is as if we were roommates - partners in everything.

Page has talked about how close of a connection he feels to the character, about many ways he's emulated his mannerisms, even some pretty embarassing anectodes where he claims to have "accidentally" used the character's "indomitable will" to scare waiters or drawing connections between The Spider's cast and real people he's met. Others who met him remarked that he talked of the "Spider" characters as though they were members of his family, or drinking companions.

Even before I got into The Spider, I had heard of rumors that he used to present or discuss stories in his office by putting on a cape and jumping from desk to desk, swinging a yard stick in his hand, and I can't find any source that confirms it, but I don't doubt it in the slightest. A lot of pulp writers had really weird lives, and Page was no exception. He was a journalist who frequently dug into his newspaper clippings for grisly stories to incorporate into narratives. I mean, just look at the dude's eyes, he's seen some shit.

When he was 3, his mother fell down a manhole while they were walking down a Chicago sidewalk. Norvell, terrified, thought she had dissappeared and never quite got over the experience.

When he was a little older, according to some family members, his parents had tickets for the Titanic and escaped disaster when Norvell begged them to cancel the trip for reasons unknown.

Norvell again played a hand in the family's escaping disaster when, one Christmas the family home caught on fire. Candles on the tree had been left burning. He quite arguably saved everyone's life. Waking first, he threw his mattress out of his window, grabbed his infant brother and sister and ran screaming through the hall as he went back to jump to safety. His screams woke his parents who then jumped to the mattress themselves.

Norvell lied about his age and experience to the Norfolk "Observer", claiming to have been writing for Richmond's "Times Dispatch" and was hired there.

His father managed Thomas Edison & Hugo Wurlitzer's ad accounts, and had always encouraged him to write, envisioning him as another Poe, whom his Great-Uncle had worked with as an editor

It is rumored that, in NYC, while at the "World Telegram", he became involved in fellow editor Varion Fry's effort to rescue artists and scientists from occupied Europe. President of the American Fiction Guild, he edited their newsletter for some time. Among his closest friends were fellow writers Ted Tinsley and L. Ron Hubbard and Surrealist painter Max Ernst.

WRITER'S REVIEW 35.08: Norvell W. Page, whose bloodthirsty Spider novels would do justice to Ghengis Khan, demonstrated his bloodlust the other day by accidentally killing a sparrow.

He wrote until 1943, when he abruptly stopped without warning. He dissappeared, for all intents and purposes, from both New York, the arts world and the pulp world for good.

His wife of 20 years, Audrey, had died and this, along with the U.S. involvment in WWII, led to his returning to VA where he would go on to be an intelligence worker in the Truman, Kennedy and Eisenhower Administrations.

He died suddenly of a heart attack in August of 1961.

Surviving family members do not know where he is buried.

I think this is a story that Page might have told differently had he written it earlier in his career, before he got tired, before he underwent his depression and loss of weight that caused him to briefly stop writing pulps all together, in a time period before the World War had cast an oppressive miasma on the world. In a time period where most of the horrifying nightmares he infused into the stories were really just that, nightmares, that he didn't live long enough to see turn into prophecies.

Because that's another thing about The Spider that makes the character more than just a batshit vigilante: As over-the-top as the stories were, a lot of them also inevitably turned out to predict some form of catastrophe in real life.

Written with an eye to the horrors festering in Germany at the time, The Mayor of Hell now reads as an infernal vision of the Homeland Security Act.

The poisoned products found in The Red Death Rain and The Pain Emperor call to mind the Tylenol killings of the summer of 1982, and the hundreds of poisoned products cases that followed.

Bio-terrorism plays large in the Spider mythos, with bubonic plague in Wings of the Black Death, rabies in The Mad Horde, and cholera in The Cholera King foreshadowing the Anthrax scare of 2001. The same could be said of the terror gases from Kingdom of Doom and Green Globes of Death and the nerve gas attack in the Tokyo subways in March of 1995.

Masters of the Death Madness unfolds as a nightmare meditation upon suicide, which has become one of the principal weapons of modern terrorists. One scene involves suicide bombers.

Another scene chillingly presages the Jonestown massacre of 1978: a grand procession lines up to drink from a bowl of poisoned wine while surrounding gunmen pick off anyone who refuses to drink.

The modern reader will recognize the psychological and sociological effects of a citizenry living under the threat of terrorism, so chillingly evoked by Page: the grating loss of safety, the imminent threats lurking in familiar objects, the way security can no longer be taken for granted, the kind of skittishness that empties a building at the first sign of an unknown white powder.

The eeriest of all the modern terrorist parallels appears in a novel called The City Destroyer, originally published in 1936. It features a set piece involving the collapse of a fictitious gigantic building, supposedly the tallest in New York City, called “The Sky Building.” When it fell, it wiped out five city blocks and claimed 1,000 lives. And perhaps it’s worth noting a further parallel that occurred in the 1970’s, when Pocket Books tried to revive the Spider; they repackaged him in a paperback series, striving for an image of what was then cool and thrusting Richard Wentworth into a contemporary setting.

When Pocket Books reprinted and updated The City Destroyer in 1975, the collapse of the Sky Building was replaced with the collapse of the World Trade Center - Stuart Hopen's essay on The Spider

Regardless of how much reality Page was infusing into his stories (because, again, he took a lot of his material from newspapers) or how much he foresaw intentionally or not, writing The Spider definitely took it's toll on him, and as the magazine neared it's final stretch with him on the helm, certain parts did began taking a more philosophical or religious tone, as more of Page's own beliefs, more of Page's attempts to use it as a vehicle to do good, began to bleed through the page.

And ultimately I think that's also what the story of Dick and Nita's first meeting is about, sort of an extended analysis not just of Nita, who Page himself said was a character he conceived as "the epitome of womanhood" and everything he thought admirable about it, but also of Wentworth's own character, and the things Page wanted to get through in his time.

Religion crept deeper into the series with each succeeding year. By all accounts, Norvell Page was a man of deep faith and spirituality who just happened to be writing the exploits of a hero whose idea of mercy was a bullet in the brain instead of the stomach.

In the 100th novel, Death and The Spider, Wentworth battles Death itself - or so it seems - and on Christmas Eve, he is shot so badly while protecting the President from assassination that everyone believes he's dead - including himself.

Dead or not, he forces himself to fight on, sustained only by reciting the 23rd Psalm over and over again.

Nita laughed and accepted a cigarette. "I don't know how to thank you."

"Don't," Wentworth's voice was sharp. "I told you I am only a channel. Don't confuse me with the Source."

It stopped words on Nita's lips, and it gave here a new respect and a new and sudden attitude toward this man beside her, this man who could laugh and jest with everyone about him, and who could teach like a very oracle ... and who carried about him such a sense of dedication to high purpose. He might seem apart from the world, but he was utterly and completely of it.

Nita said, half-laughing, half-serious, "May I like you? And may I admire your ... adjustment?"

"Don't envy my adjustment," he grinned at her. "Have one yourself." He snapped flame to her cigarette with his lighter, and his lean, strong hand was steady and sure as his eyes, as his voice. He was speaking to her but he was looking at the lighter. "I have found my mission," he said quietly.

#pulp heroes #the spider #nita van sloan #pulp fiction #norvell page #it's pretty much impossible to talk about the spider without sounding like a pulp writer yourself

[marvels-agents100]

in the image of atlas

“we could have been happy. i know that, and it is perhaps the hardest thing to know.” ally condie

pairings: aaron hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: sad, deeply burdened aaron, unrequited love

word count: 1,954

author’s note: this started out one way, ended another... maybe a part two? also, to the anon that sent me a request- im working on it now !

You couldn’t quite recall how it had gotten to this point, your relationship with Aaron Hotchner.

You were a respite, someone outside of his job that was involved in his life. It began with a chance meeting at the grocery store, and a close friendship then blossomed quickly. You quickly learned the inner workings of him, how he operated, and how deeply he loved.

He always held the burden of the world on his shoulders. Furthermore, he would carry it without complaint, taking the weight as if it was light as air. It was admirable, of course, his self-sacrifice bringing comfort and ease to many people’s minds- most significantly, to his own team. 

It wasn’t until a crisp, October night that you saw his resolve crumble.

“I just can’t do it anymore,” his words were chopped and strained, his eyes pooling with retained emotion.

“Aaron,” you reached for his shoulder, but your palm hesitated before it was able to make contact, “tell me everything.”

“I don’t- I don’t even…” his hands ran through his air, head shaking as he talking, “where do I even start?”

“That’s okay,” you soothed, your restless hands clasping together. You wanted desperately to reach out and hold him, comfort him, but physical boundaries were still blurred between you, with only small brushes and light touches punctuating the tense, complicated moments you’ve shared.

“It’s so- everything is just… overwhelming, sometimes,” he choked on his voice, leaning forward on his elbows.

“I know,” you whispered, a worried pull in your brow, “you take on a lot, Aaron.”

And what a truth that was. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t a man that was quick to love, so when he cared, he cared deeply. If those he loved were haunted by any form of sadness or despair, he would roll his sleeves up and put the burden on his own back. It was natural, obligatory for him. There was never a time- that he could remember- where his shoulders were weightless. 

It had been a habit you chipped away at, trying in vain to break away his incessant need to hold up the world. With his determination and stubborn nature, attempting to convince him that the pain of others’ is not his responsibility, is an impossible task in and of itself. You could lament for hours about his lasting impact on so many lives, how his work changed the outcome of the world as a whole, how fighting battles for others was not a task he needed to complete, but all the words of reassurance never seemed to reach his ears. 

You tried to convince him that he did not have to set himself on fire to warm others, but he always kept matches in his pocket.

“Do you let yourself take a break, sometimes?” You asked quietly, gently, “You’re still human, you need rest, too.”

“Rest?” He laughed bitterly, tears streaming freely down his cheeks, “I’ve never heard of it.”

Maybe it was the way he looked so utterly exhausted, or maybe it was the way his shoulders slumped forward in defeat, but your once hesitant hand grew bold, resting on his shoulder lightly. The muscles below your touch relaxed immediately, your thumb tracing languidly along the white dress shirt he wore.

His eyes closed, his focus going to the warmth of your palm. The light touch traveled through him, deriving every ounce of comfort from the tips of your fingers. The relief that washed over him was almost euphoric, like reaching the surface after being submerged in deep water, or finding a light in a world of darkness. It wasn’t exactly surprising, the extremely visceral way he reacted to you.

As a self-aware man, he knew what the uncontrollable, undeniable parts of himself wanted from you. He craved attention from you in a primal sense, like the glances you spared him and the conversations you shared were the drug, and he was hopelessly addicted. He had noticed the tell tale signs of a tell tale heart when he had first met you, and the exponential growth of said signs were as anticipated as the setting sun.

You were an anchor in the stormy seas that occupied his mind-the mind that, currently, a hurricane was wreaking havoc upon.

“You have to find time for yourself,” you pleaded, “the team- hell, the world- needs you. And that means all of you, not just the part of you that’s still awake.”

“I know,” he sniffled, “I feel like I’m being pulled in every direction.”

 You sighed, knowing the truth behind his words. There was so, so much that was expected of him, you weren’t exactly sure how he was still standing upright. He was told to save lives, raise a son, and be a reliable friend and brother, all at the same time.

(Hell, why don’t you count the stars, while you’re at it?)

You wished more than anything that you could help relieve some of his stress, but other than being the occasional shoulder to cry on, he never delegated any of his tasks. It- meaning, the entirety of the pain he woke up to every day- was a battle he lead no army towards, just his lonely feet on the grassy uphill below his demons.

“What can I do, Aaron?” You sounded more desperate, pushing slightly to get some kind of solution from him, “Anything, absolutely anything you need.”

His reddened, slightly swollen gaze flickered to you, the sunlight seeping into the apartment catching them in a honey glow. It seemed to pull you in even further, his soft eyes being the first thing you had fallen for.

It was fascinating, how brown was just brown, until you loved somebody with brown eyes.

“You, being here,” he swallowed thickly, “that’s enough for me.”

And even though his words could have been interpreted in so many ways, your heart still swelled within your chest.

“Sometimes, I just feel so alone,” he began, “especially since Gideon left, then Haley passed. It seems like the people I confide in always seem to leave,” he though to himself for a moment, eyes scanning the carpet, “I have Dave, but that man can have so much on his mind, sometimes.” 

There was a pause before he continued, “And then I found you, and you were- you are- my sunlight.”

There was a twist somewhere deep inside your stomach, your pulse halting momentarily. Controlling your expression, you allowed a small smile to reach your lips. A content sigh escaped you, your hand squeezing on his shoulder slightly, encouraging him to continue, telling him you would listen. His large palm reached up to cover yours, holding onto it gently.

“You don’t realize how much it means to me,” he spoke softly, “the fact that you care.”

“Aaron,” his name was a whisper, words escaping you as overwhelming confessions and professions littered your mind, “you understand that having someone to talk to is the least you deserve, right?”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” you were breathless, in complete disbelief of his questioning of self worth, “God, you deserve so much more than I, or this world, will ever be able to give you. You sacrifice so much of yourself for the well-being of others, and even though karma has yet to recognize it, the people who care about you aren’t quite as blind.”

Self control seemed to escape you, your palms moving to rest against his cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“You don’t have to save everyone,” your thumbs stroked his cheekbones, “sometimes, the person you save has to be yourself.”

“I just-“

“I know it’s hard,” you cut his self doubt off, “I know that all you’ve ever done is help others and it’s what you know, but Aaron, you are worth saving, too.”

His eyebrow twitted up, bottom lip quivering slightly. With your touch still on his cheek, he leaned into your hand, adverting his eyes from yours as they became misty once again.

You were right, and logically he knew that, but even as you preach his worth and importance in that soft, sweet, honey voice of yours, he still sat and wondered what he had done to deserve you. 

Another sigh left you, your hands trailing through his hair, landing on his shoulders. It sent another wave of comfort through him, and he knew then that he wouldn’t survive losing you, he couldn’t ever lose you.

“Can you promise me something?” Your question got his sight to shift back to you, “Promise me you’ll take some time for yourself, before it gets this overwhelming again?”

“Just-,” he hesitated, “just be here with me, and I’ll be okay.”

Your eyes looked over him, unable to decipher the way he was looking at you, unable to read his expression.

“I only need you,” and his words came out so soft, so incredibly tender, that you weren’t sure if you had the will to control yourself.

“Okay,” you whispered, not trusting your voice.

You pulled him to you, your back pressing into the couch cushions, his head coming to rest just below your chin. His arms found a home around your waist, hands splayed along your spine. You couldn’t see his eyes close- his dark eyelashes fluttering against your collarbone- or the small, content smile that graced his lips. With one hand tangled in his ebony hair and the other tracing patterns along his shoulder blades, you let your own eyes shut, just basking in the embrace of the man you quietly loved.

He couldn’t quite recall how it had gotten to this point, his complicated relationship with you.

He fell asleep to the sound of your heart beating, the monotonous reminder that you were truly real, not a dream he had imagined, despite his doubts. You were living, human, and you took your time and spent it with him, a man who viewed you as angel when compared to himself. It was a bittersweet thing, the absolute, uncontrollable love he held for you- a love he knew would never see the light of day. You were undeniably pure, comprised of nothing but sunshine and soft rain, and there would never be a time where he allowed the storm clouds that haunted him to cover the rays of your happiness.

So, he would take his moments when he could. He would fall asleep to your heartbeat and cherish your gentle touch, but his heart would remain his and your heart would remain yours. And maybe it was a cruel punishment, casting you into his life for you to remain out of his reach, but the mere thought of being in your presence was enough. It would have to be enough.

Your fingers carded through his hair, the soft strands brushing against your palm. The weight of him on top of you brought you a comfort you couldn’t fully explain- or comprehend, for that matter. Every thought and feeling you held for him was circling through your mind, erratic and loud. 

To you, he was everything. He was the stars in a dark sky, the sunlight after a rainstorm, the cool breeze on a summer afternoon. There was something so inviting, so safe about him, that you were entranced and pulled in within minutes of knowing him. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You danced around your own heart when it came to him, avoiding and ignoring the way he absolutely completed you. His love was a privilege you couldn’t have, and it was a fact you had to accept and bury. In your own, silent way, you loved him endlessly. And, if fate decided you weren’t ever meant to be, then you would be content, for the mere thought of being in your presence was enough. It would have to be enough.

taglist:

@quillvine​ @winterscaptain​ @agenthotchner​ @davidrossi-ismydad​ @misskirkstark​ @good-heavens-chris-evans​ @vintagecaptainspidey​

#aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds #fanfic

[yukihime242]

Two places not to bring Paimon to: the mint house and food streets.

After parting ways with Zhongli, I headed straight to the Golden House because that’s where Rex Lapis’s corpse is being held. However, something was not right when we stepped into the Golden House.

Guards were knocked unconscious and it became more worrying by the minute.

We headed straight for the corpse and someone was approaching us from behind.

I have a couple of questions for Childe: Where were you hiding and how come you came in after us?

Isn’t that what he has been planning? Think about it Paimon. Him being here in Liyue definitely had to do with Rex Lapis.

And Childe, being the person who loves to brawl for no reason, just wanted to do a battle with us. My character was not willing to let him anywhere near Rex Lapis and declared that she would defeat him instead.

The only thing very assuring is that he won’t kill us.

Good news is, I get to come out alive. Bad news is, I may not come out alive in one piece. Huh...

And the battle ensued. Obviously because we are only allowed one element in the game, we were nerfed quite badly. But in the cut scene, we suddenly can use two elements! How fair is that?

Yes, very unexpected indeed. The fact that the corpse is just an empty vessel.

No.

And it was as if he was trying to kill us that we had to dodge for our lives. What happened to not killing us?

Precisely... sigh... men.

You think I’m just gonna spill the beans to you? After all that will-not-kill-me turn into trying-to-kill-me?

You said it, Paimon.

And look at the face I’m making. It’s as if she was saying:

Anyway, back to the more important topic on hand. Now that Childe has finally cool his head off, he was beginning to think more civically.

The conclusion: Rex Lapis is still alive. 

Hence, he decided to try and do something that will probably forced Rex Lapis out from hiding.

Jokes on you, Childe, you have a hoarde of agents who are weaker than you and are under your command. 

And, yes, mystery solved. The Sigils of Permission which were replicated by the Fatui are now being used for the purpose of waking up the god of vortex. 

After causing such an uproar, he disappeared. Leaving us to quickly leave the building and to see what was happening at the harbour.

With the god of vortex now awaken, Liyue is in great peril.

I have a question, Paimon. How did we get up here?

Oh, hi Xiao. I’m also asking myself that same question.

As it happens, the adepti and the Qixings were discussing and arguing over the death of Rex Lapis and what they should do in the future. They decided to put aside their differences to come and defend Liyue together.

I’m actually very surprised that the god of vortex is still standing there waiting for us to finish our conversation. What a nice guy.

The adeptis mentioned how the god of vortex is too powerful to overcome based on their strength alone.

But Cloud Retainer mentioned how they could use the Guizhong Ballista to defeat the overlord. Ningguang summoned the Ballista and three of the adepti went ahead to man the apparatus. 

However, the Fatui were sent to destroy the Ballista and it was up to the rest of us to defeat the Fatui and defend the Ballista.

The fact that I’m using their god who was supposed to be “dead” to fight on the Ballista is quite funny and none of the characters bat an eyelid.

After fending off the Fatui, we were greeted with a cutscene of the ending battle.

The power of the vortex shattered the ballista which sent most of us who didn’t managed to get to safety in time to pummel down. But the adepti quickly came to our aid.

Having lost the Guizhong Ballista, Ningguang decided to sacrifice the Jade Chamber.

After plummeting the Jade Chamber onto the lord of vortex, the adepti helped us to get to safety again. It was there they started arguing about the future of Liyue.

Ningguang then let us know that she had a dream where Rex Lapis came to her.

She wanted to ask for his guidance but was unable to speak. She simply sat there and stared at him until she woke up. 

Who let her in? 

Obviously, there were still some adepti who were not agreeable with Ningguang but left anyway. 

Paimon then reminded me of Zhongli and we quickly made our way to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

I’m pretty sure he’s quite aware of what happened, Paimon.

We made our way to the Northland Bank. There, we found Zhongli, Childe, and Signora.

How can we forget? You turned Paimon into an ice ball and ripped Venti’s gnosis out from him. Not easy to forget.

You don’t say... Moments ago you tried to kill me. 

And the cat is finally out of the bag!

And let’s not forget that we were organising his funeral with him as the organiser. 

No matter how much deserved encore it should have, WE ARE NOT GOING THROUGH THAT AGAIN!

Nobody asked you to awaken the lord of vortex and send Fatui agents after us. You dug your own grave, mister.

And with that, the Fatui Harbringers left and it was only us left with Zhongli.

Zhongli explained to us the reason for agreeing to give his gnosis to Tsaritsa, yet at the same time could divulge the details of the contracts to us.

We left the Northland Bank and head to the Pavilion to hear the official press release about the whole situation from the Qixing.

Keqing then stepped forth to give us a reward she believed we deserve from lending a hand to defend Liyue from the crisis.

We also went around talking to some of the civilians. The most unforgettable one was Ying’er.

We then caught Zhongli being all relaxed at the other end of the pavilion.

Can you blame him? Zhongli wanted to treat us to a meal but we were skeptical as to whether he did bring some money.

And Paimon was really brutal with her words regarding about Zhongli living his life as a mortal.

He also gave us answers as to why the Liyue Qixing were eager to resolve the “murder” issue...

...and was willing to answer any questions we still had. One part of the answer though raised more questions...

And for a moment, he just adopted Venti’s attitude.

With all that settled, we asked him if he had set some private funds for himself.

If gods are capable of starving to death, I wonder how he managed to live for so long...

#mihoyo #Genshin #genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin impact childe #childe genshin #childe genshin impact #genshin tartaglia #genshin impact tartaglia #tartaglia genshin #tartaglia genshin impact #genshin ajax #genshin impact ajax #ajax genshin impact #ajax genshin #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #xiao genshin impact #xiao genshin #genshin impact ningguang #genshin ningguang #ningguang genshin #ningguang genshin impact #genshin impact signora #genshin signora #signora genshin #signora genshin impact #genshin keqing #genshin impact keqing #keqing genshin

[captainsassmanes]

Follow up to It’s the Little Things

Alex poked his fingers between the blinds and slowly lifted them, hoping not to draw attention to himself. 

It was 9am on a blazing hot Saturday and he’d been woken by the sound of a weedwacker whirring right outside his window. He didn’t have to look to know exactly who it was, but he was curious as to what the fuck Michael was doing.

He’d be lying if he said the image of Michael, shirtless and sweating, didn’t turn him right the hell on but this was getting out of hand.

After Alex had spilled his guts, throwing his insecurities into the wind before thinking about where they’d land, he couldn’t get up. He lived for helping Michael, for finding ways to give back, to make some kind of difference, however small, in the other man’s life. 

Michael had managed to call him on his bullshit, though. It was Alex’s way of staying involved, of being as close to Michael as he could be without physically being near him.

But he’d pushed too hard and it really was over. 

That first night was awful. He replayed their conversation, or the word vomit he’d spewed, nonstop. He drank, and then drank some more, until he woke up on the couch, stiff and barely able to move with a headache that made blinking agonizing.

After a puke, a coffee and some eggs, Alex had taken Buffy outside and sat in one of his patio chairs, taking in his house, his car, his stuff.

It meant little now.

The thought of Michael, of their potential relationship, possible future, had quietly been keeping him going all these years. To have that hope extinguished...he didn’t have the words to describe how empty he’d felt.

His chest ached as he went inside and opened his laptop, starting his search for the country’s top cities. He knew he’d want to live somewhere busy, populated, but safe. His job could easily be remote once his re-enlistment period was up, plus he had quite a bit of money saved so he could take his time getting readjusted.

New York City and LA definitely had his attention, the music scenes alone would be worth the trip, but the apartments were tiny, and he may end up having to sell a kidney to pay his rent. Miami wasn’t his scene and Seattle looked like the type of place to send his depression spiraling.

He grabbed his third cup of coffee and moved to the living room, getting comfortable on the couch and making room for Buffy to rest her head on his lap. He found another one of those top cities lists and was intrigued by Portland. LGBT friendly, relaxed people, music scene, not so far that he couldn’t visit if he wanted to.

That afternoon was spent clicking through photos, checking out postings for apartments, falling down a YouTube spiral of some artists who got their start in the city.

The next day, feeling a bit better with a plan under his belt, he’d ventured outside to Beam Me Up for a cup of coffee and a snack. On his way out, he literally bumped into Maria.

“God, sorry. Did any of that spill?”

Alex just blinked, an uncomfortable wave of jealousy moving over his skin and pinching him where it landed.

He shook his head and said, “no. It’s okay.”

She gave him a smile as they stood awkwardly in the doorway. He wanted to say something, even if it was small or unimportant, just something to break the ice, but his instincts telling him to get home were clouding his thoughts.

“Michael mentioned he saw you the other day.”

Alex’s eyes grew wide. They hadn’t spoken in weeks; nothing more than worthless pleasantries and she knew why; he’d been honest with her. He’d also felt he’d been fair, leaving them both alone to their relationship, not interfering or getting involved.

At least he’d thought that was what he’d been doing.

But now, as he stared at his oldest friend, watching as her face changed to apprehension, maybe realizing that playing the we can connect over Michael card was the wrong move, he felt angry.

“I’m moving.”

Maria stepped back, surprised. “What?”

Alex nodded, looking around the street, hoping he looked as relaxed and casual as he was aiming for. “Yep. When my enlistment period is over.”

Her mouth opened and shut a few times, small sounds trying to become words escaping. Eventually, she was able to croak out a, “where?”

Alex shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Portland looked interesting. I’m looking at a few apartments there.”

The silence took over again as the street became a bit busier with the weekend tourists coming out to enjoy the weather and the sights. Maria’s hair bounced, the ends of her head scarf wrapping loosely around her throat. “You’re leaving because of me, right? Because of me and Michael? You can’t just go because – “

“I have no reason to stay, Maria.” Their eyes met and both sets were filled with a sadness neither could describe. Alex’s heart felt too heavy in his chest, memories of late nights and shared shakes and tears and joints and hugs threatening to leak out of his eyes. Instead, he smiled. “My time here’s up. I did my part but it’s time to see something new.”

With that he turned and walked to his car, coffee cup shaking in one hand while his fingers curled painfully around the bag in the other. Fuck he missed Maria. But he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to look at her the way he used to again.

It was that night, his excitement dwindling and replaced by a quiet desperation, when the first text had come through.

Don’t leave.

Alex stared. Obviously, Maria had told Michael about their chat. Maybe he felt bad, a twinge of guilt. Alex hoped he did, then felt guilty for hoping Michael felt guilty. This was exactly why he had to leave.

He ignored the text and went back to his computer, sipping on a beer and occasionally giving Buffy some nice scratches behind the ears.

His phone pinged again. Alex stared at it, hoping his glare would make it blow up or something. In the end, curiosity got the best of him and he looked at the text.

Don’t leave me.

Alex’s heart raced as his fingers moved without thinking.

You wouldn’t come with me anyway.

He turned his phone off and tossed it across the room, not caring when it bounced along the wood floor a few times.

He didn’t sleep well after that. Thoughts of car rides and spaceships and apartments and soft blankets and bright sunshine and honey curls played behind his eyelids every time he tried to rest.

The further away from Michael he was, the better it’d be for everyone.

The next morning his doorbell rang at 8am. Alex had thought it was a part of his dream at first, cuddled up on a firm, warm chest, wiry hairs beneath his fingers while nails scraped his scalp, lulling him back to sleep. When the buzzing continued, he was thrown back into reality with a big, empty bed and a headache to boot.

Grabbing his crutches, he went to the door and threw it open, shocked to find Michael on the other side looking clean shaven with a cup of coffee.

Michael looked…different. Yes, the beard was trimmed, maybe his hair, too? His clothes were definitely clean. But there was an energy, an aura, around him that Alex hadn’t seen in years. One side of Michael’s mouth lifted, an almost bashful smile, and he held out the coffee cup. Even Michael’s fingernails were clean. Alex lost some time staring at those nails and remembering the comfort they’d brought him in his dream just moments before.

Michael cleared his throat, bringing Alex’s attention back to the moment. “Whole milk and one sugar.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Michael shrugged and pushed the cup gently into Alex’s chest. “Bringing you a coffee. Good morning, by the way.”

Alex would later blame the broken night’s sleep for the dreamy way he’d whispered out, “good morning,” while accepting the cup. He took a sip and was instantly in his glory. His favorite coffee from his favorite café made perfectly delivered by his favorite…

“Well, have a good day, Alex.”

While Alex stood in the doorway, mouth hanging open at a loss for words, Michael sauntered back to his truck and drove away.

It had fucked with Alex for the rest of the day.

After that morning, Michael made appearances most days. A delivery of a burger and fries one afternoon, randomly bent over the hood of Alex’s Jeep for a tune up a few evenings later, dropping off a case of Alex’s favorite beer. Each time Michael came around, the conversation was limited. Michael would smile, explain why he was there and, as soon as he was finished, he’d smile and say goodbye, driving off once again.

Alex hated it. It was so confusing and contradictory, it made him fucking furious.

Alex really loved it.

He was seeing more of Michael than he had in years and Michael was absolutely different but in a way that suited Michael, not as though he’d changed to fit someone else’s wishes. He looked great and seemed healthy. Happy.

Apparently, today was clean up the yard day. With a sigh, Alex turned from his window and looked at Buffy with her head raised and cocked to the side in concern.

“Yes, it’s Michael.” Buffy’s tail wagged furiously. “You little traitor.”

Alex watched him for a few quiet minutes, taking in every detail, from the way his curls looked almost blonde when the sun hit just right, to the pattern of body hair scattered across his torso, to the flex of his legs when he bent and stretched.

He’d realized the other night, as he sipped on one of the beers Michael had bought him, that he’d stopped looking at apartments, collecting more information on Portland. All it took was for Michael to notice him and his universe tilted, and its center of gravity became Michael once again. That was the first night since their fight he’d allowed himself to cry again.

With a sudden surge of resolve, Alex threw open his drawers and grabbed whatever clothes his hands touched. He took the time to get his leg on, wanting to feel stable and steady for whatever came next.

By the time he got outside, Michael was leaning against the bed of the truck looking like a tan god, bottle of water to his lips, head tossed back with his face covered in sunlight.

Taking a deep breath, Alex charged ahead.

“I want a reason.”

Michael startled a bit, lost in his own thoughts, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Alex couldn’t help but stare at the dampness his hand missed.

“What reason?”

“Don’t be coy, Michael. It’s not cute.”

Playfully, Michael pouted while batting his lashes. Alex wanted to laugh and scream and cry and hold Michael, confusion and caution warring within him.

Alex looked at the ground, noting a nasty scuff across the toe of one of his boots. He pushed his foot into the sand and whispered, “why are you doing this to me?”

Michael made a quiet noise that sounded hurt and stood straight, blocking out the sun from Alex’s face. “To you?”

Alex looked up and fell into hazel eyes. He nodded. “You’re not actually trying to talk to me. But you’re being- being really kind and generous. I don’t understand.” He shook his head this time and took a step back so he could think. “You told me to get out of your life, I say okay, and then you come flying back into mine.”

Michael shook his head and started digging around the bed of his truck, apparently looking for his t-shirt to throw on as well as his trademark hat. Turning back to Alex, he shrugged and pulled out his car keys.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, Alex.” The silence between them felt thick with opportunity; to be honest, straightforward. Just a chance. “But that night I…” Michael scoffed and broke eye contact, looking around at Alex’s house. “You’ve got a loose shingle up there – “

“That night you what, Michael?”

With a sigh, Michael continued, “I knew that might be it. I know I’ve pushed, and you’ve walked and recently I’ve been pushing a lot harder but I just, I dunno, never let myself imagine you not being in my life somehow.”

Alex crinkled his eyebrows, confused yet again. “If you didn’t want me to go then why say all that shit about – “

“I have been drowning for years, Alex. In booze, in sex, in work, in regret. Just fucking drowning. Then you came back, and your dad was the fucking devil and then my mom and Max. I couldn’t separate it all out. Everything felt like it went back to you.”

Alex nodded, feeling the familiar creep of guilt working its way into his gut. “And I said I understood all of that. I gave you as much space as I could.”

“Did you?”

Alex sighed and dug his hands into his pockets, wishing he had something in his hands to keep them better occupied. He could either choke Guerin at the moment or pull him into a suffocating kiss. He couldn’t decide.

“I guess I didn’t.” He blinked as the next thought smacked him across the face. “I’m not as strong as you, Michael. I can’t know you’re nearby and struggling and do nothing.”

Michael shook his head, taking a step closer to Alex.

“That’s why I’m moving. I can’t stop myself from being in your orbit and you made it clear that’s what you wanted. It’ll give me a fresh start, too, you know. No one’ll recognize the Manes name. No one will care. I can just be another face out there, have a little anonymity and figure out what I’m doing.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

Alex groaned. “C’mon, Michael! You just came here not that long ago bitching that I sent you some food! I’d think you’d be thrilled that I’d be gone.”

Michael laughed. Alex watched as his face changed with the humor and his heart broke a little to see how much younger Michael could look when he relaxed. Even if just for a second. “I told you stay away. You didn’t. I told you again stay away and then you did. Then I couldn’t stay away and now you’re gonna leave. Can we just say the fucking things we need to say and stop doing this?”

Alex took the challenge at face value and straightened up, nodding his head. “Fine.”

“Why did you do all those nice things for me even when I told you to stay away?”

“Because I love you.”

The ease with which those words slid from Alex’s mouth surprised both of them. There was something freeing about the honesty, of finally just saying the words out loud to Michael without fear of rejection or consequence.

He took a deep breath. “Because I love you and I was worried about you.”

Michael licked his lips and looked away, nodding in understanding.

“Your turn,” Alex whispered, pulling Michael’s attention back. “Why do you keep showing up here when you told me to stay away?”

“Because I regretted everything I said as soon as I said it.” Alex lifted an eyebrow, not fully understanding. “I thought I needed distance. Not seeing you all the damn time helped me focus on other things. And I did tell you the truth; I didn’t think we were good for each other and I really, really wanted to be good for Maria.”

Alex took a step back, feeling the burn in his throat start at the mention of his friend’s name when Michael’s callused fingers wrapped around his wrist. “The second I realized I probably pushed you completely out of my life, I regretted it. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to stop caring. I want to be better. I just – “

Michael stopped and took a deep breath, clearly overwhelmed as his voice began to crack. Alex slowly shifted his wrist from Michael’s grip and gently held his fingers in his own.

Michael sighed, “can you ask me one more time?”

Alex nodded. “Why do you keep showing up here when you told me to stay away?”

“Because I love you.”

They stood together in the blazing sun, sweating and staring at one another as though the world had fallen away. The moment was broken when Alex’s eyes shifted to Michael’s turquoise belt buckle. “But you love Maria, too.”

Michael nodded and watched helplessly as Alex let go of his hand. “I do. But I love Maria the same way you love Maria.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what that means.”

“She’s my friend, Alex. That night we fought I had an epiphany.”

“An epiphany?”

“Yeah. You probably already know this but I’m an alcoholic.”

Alex’s head whipped up with concern in his eyes. His mouth moved but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Michael took it as his cue to continue. “I’ve also been a shit brother to Isobel, so I’ve been working on that. But the morning after I left here, I talked to Maria. Told her how I was feeling, she talked about her feelings and, we both just told the truth.”

“Which was?”

A smile tugged on Michael’s lips. “That we both love you.”

Alex cleared his throat, doing his best not to start crying. “I’d like to get back to the alcoholic piece of this, and I’m glad you’ve stepped up to support Isobel but, uh, are you and Maria still together?”

Michael shook his head. “Not for about, what? Two weeks now?”

Alex nodded. “Okay.”

“Go out with me.”

Alex waited a beat, making sure he’d heard clearly before repeating, “okay.”

“The Crashdown? Lunch tomorrow? Around 12?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there.”

Michael smiled and closed his truck. Slowly, he took off his hat and leaned in, kissing Alex on the cheek. They were both just piles of sweat and beet[TS1]  red, but Alex thought it might be one of the most romantic moments of his life.

“I wanna do this right, Alex. From the beginning.”

Alex smiled. “Me, too. I’ll see you tomorrow. For our first date.”

Michael laughed, his youth bursting through every pore. “For our first date.”

#Roswell New Mexico #Malex #Malex fic #my fic #barely edited #angst with a hopeful ending

[ladyblastexecution]

Track 1 from the “Lost on You” Songfic Collection

Inpired by the album Lost On You by LP.

Wordcount: 3,9k

Genre: Angst, fluffy ending

Warnings: Mentions of adultery, implications of nsfw. 

A/N: For the lovely @tamcitrus​​ whose love for Kirishima is as big as my thirst for angst. <3 ily

We are kneeling at the river’s edge and tempting All the steps to follow closer right behind Is it only when you feel a part is empty That it’s gnawing at the corners of your mind

Your ringtone filled the apartment.

Kirishima’s Hands itched to grab his phone from the nightstand. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, his soul was begging him to answer your texts.

Even though you were probably having dinner with your husband, you still stole a few of his moments and gifted them to Kirishima. A sick sense of pride swelled in his chest and he felt sick to his stomach.

He made a promise to himself when you vanished from his apartment the morning after without even a “good bye”, leaving him full of shame and regret for the few hours of your attention.

He had set his mind; he was no longer going to meet up with you in the middle of the night, when you were lonely and desperate for affection, to soothe your hurt soul with his gentle fingertips and soft praises. It wasn’t fair for him or your spouse.

It didn’t matter to him if the relationships was forced upon you for a publicity stunt and financial convenience, you still had a compromise with your partner, Kirishima knew him personally and he didn’t deserve the infidelity both of you were bestowing upon him. That’s what he repeated in his head like a mantra.

But the Hero had a soft spot for you.

Ever since you both attended the UA together, he was always infatuated with your pretty, dazzling eyes. His luck, however, was always a penny too short.

With you hopelessly pinning after Bakugo, he was pushed to the Friendzone with a force that made his head spin and he could only watch from the sidelines as your heart was shattered when his friend rejected you over and over again. You only saw him as nothing more than a friend and another Call Of Duty player to team up with, and he continued that awful vice of grabbing any little piece of affection he could get from you.

Years went on and the relationship you two shared got fondler, with never-ending sleep over and hang outs. When he was finally ready to confess hi feeling to you, after he had etablihed himself as a known Hero just like you, you came barreling into his house eyes moist and shaking shoulders.

“I’m getting married Kirishima...”

Those four words were enough to give him nightmares for months.

Just like that, his chances were gone, as if they were a candle someone blew out.

He was afraid he might lose you. The new domestic life you now had left little to no time to spare with him, and at first it was like that. The wedding was grand, and you looked beautiful in a wedding gown you did not choose yourself, and in a grand Hotel that didn’t fit your style. The publicity stunt was huge, and the attention both of you and your husband’s company got was incredible, borderline ridiculous.

It wasn’t even after three months of almost complete silence from you, when the affair started.

An ugly fight with your manager had broken out and you found yourself in his doorstep instead of your big comfortable home, with your loving spouse. Kirishima was shocked when you entered and started going off about everything.

“Then... why don’t you jut divorce?” He had said trying to make the thrill he got from the idea unnoticed.

“I can’t do that to Michael... The idea wasn’t mine, and I woudn’’t have married him on y own accord, but he’s just so nice to me, and I think he loves me... Maybe with sometime I Can love him too.”

He had loved you for longer than your spouse. And yet, no matter how angry he was at the situation, his despise could never be directed thowards you. Kirishima knew everything could be so much easier if his stubborn heart could just give up on the hope it had on the possibility of being with you in a future.

He had to do a 180°, if he kept this up for much longer who knew how long his heart could take it.

He might lose you, but the words Bakugo said to him, kept replaying into his head.

“Start loving yourself a little bit more, Shitty hair. This chick is going to be the death of you.”

His friend was looking out to him in his own way, the harsh words he used were hi way of telling him what he needed to hear. If the grumpy Katsuki, who always stayed out of other’s business, was snooping around in Kirishima’s love life then he noticed something was seriously wrong.

His mind was set. When you entered through his door, he would tell you it was over. On behalf of his mental stability.

With a simple “yeah, I’m home” text, he started to mentally prepare up for when you got there.

It is not clear why we choose the fire pathway Where we end is not the way that we had planned

The Knock on the door filled him with equal amounts of shame and excitement. Kirishima’s heart leapt inside his chest when he heard your soft voice calling his name with a waver in it.

Opening up and seeing you there, covered in rain with your lower lip trembling was all it took for Kirishima’s resolve to come crumbling down .

“Eiji...” A sob interrupted whatever you would say, the emotion swirling inside of you choking the air out of your lungs. Closing your eyes tightly as you entered the home, still mindful of not messing the carpet, you circled his waist with your arms when you were in the middle of kicking off your shoes.

Your entire body rocked with heavy sobs, and Kirishima could feel a tight fist shattering his heart as if it was made of wet sand, collapsing into itself with painful stabs.

Words seemed to leave both of your brains when your chests were tightly pressed together, so Kirishima scooped you up in his arms, noticing how cold your skin felt. He walked into his room and you wasted no time to burrow your forehead into his neck, nuzzling your nose into the soft skin of his clavicle. Your vanilla scented shampoo infiltrated into his nose and he remembered all the times he woke up to an empty space next to him, where the lingering familiar smell on his pillow was the only proof he had that it wasn’t a dream.

His chest throbbed for his own heartache this time, and for once in his life he tried to prioritize himself other than you. He left you on the ground and couldn’t meet your eyes.

He Loved you, but in that exact moment, the self pity was almost consuming his whole mind. A frown settled itself into his face and his eyes found your bare feet, glistening with the residual rain that had soaked your shoes as you ran all the way to his house. He could almost feel your watery eyes gazing estranged at him.

“Eiji...?” He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose upon hearing his nickname. “Are you okay?”

No.

He was not okay.

He couldn’t reply honestly. His heart was torn in two. “Selfish” was the only adjective that seemed to fit him. He felt selfish if he ignored your broken state and he was selfish if he gave into his infatuation, ignoring the fat you had someone waiting for you at home. A home where he had no place in.

It took him several moments to recompose, too lost in his mind to snap out of the spiraling gloomy thoughts. The only thing that successfully brought him out of his stupor was the icy touch of your fingers cupping his cheek.

Surprised, Kirishima’s head snapped up, and he found your eyes boring into his face, jumping around his features trying to decipher what was wrong. He needed to push you away, kick you out and send back to your loving husband and then spend the next three days under the steaming hot rain of the shower trying to scrub the reminders of your touch from his skin.

It wasn’t healthy. He could feel the guilt taking a toll on his body, adding years to his appearance and pain to his joints, almost as if the heavyweight of it sinking his heart was physically too much for the great Red Riot to whisthold.

His mind never failed to remind him that cutting ties with you was the way to go, the most reasonable decision. But every time he pictured the conversation in his mind, with your eyes misting over with hurt and his big boy words getting tangled in his tongue, he couldn’t help the sneaking thought of “Maybe...”.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe Kirishima could stand being the lover for a while, maybe you would finally confess your feeling towards him and just maybe you would finally get divorced.

But then again. Maybe he was just being foolish.

I will ask you for mercy

I will come to you blind

Kirishima’s hand enveloped your own in a loose grip and he removed it from his face.

“Please don’t...I-I’m Sorry but...” swallowing down the knot in his throat, he forced his eyes to meet yours. “I don’t think I Can keep doing this (y/n).” He groaned internally over how weak the sentence came out of his lips.

Taking a step back, you watched him intently without responding at his statement. His pulse rang in his ears as he ran a hand through his crimson locks. He pressed his lids together with forced when in a flash images of you and your husband flooded his mind. He was desperate to make it go away, but it was too late, his consciousness was reminding him of every single picture of the two of you together that was ever posted online, with your loving eyes gazing up into a pair that weren’t Kirishima’s and the gentle smiles he would never have outside the four walls that surrounded his bedroom.

“Hey...” You said, with a tone he had used many times before when trying to coax someone he had saved. He hated that tone in your voice, it made him feel weak and helpless, which in this situation he knew for a fact he was. “Eiji... Talk to me.”

He gazed up into your face, waiting to find pity swarming in them, but he found nothing other than concern.

“It’s just I-...” How could he say what he was wishing out loud?. His actions and hopes were not those of a hero. “I...” He struggled again, and when his throat failed him you brought him into your embrace.

“Shh... It’s okay, we can discuss it later if it’ too much...” He wanted to hate you for how you had bewitched him, if he hadn’t known you for so long, he would’ve believed your quirk was some kind of mental control over feelings. That was the only logical explanation to his behaviour.

Kirishima nuzzled hi nose against your neck, cheek pressed in your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your skin returning to you. Sighing softly, he tightened his hold on you.

What you’ll see is the worst me Not the last of my kind

If he was seeing the whole situation from outside, he would be disgusted by it all.

It wasn’t unusual that someone cheated, and many people were in his same position, not going too far he knew a few of his friends were also the receiving end of a taken person’s affair, but that didn’t ease his heavy heart.

He was afraid of what you would think of him. Did you see him as nothing more than just your lover? Someone to rely on when the things in your marriage got boring and plain?

He hoped that wasn’t the case, “devastated”. couldn’t beging to express how he would feel. The thought of you only liking him as nothing more than an object to release your sexual frustration on made his stomach drop.

“I’m sorry...” His voice was muffled by the wet fabric of your shirt. “I Don’t know what came over me...” He could feel the tears gathering in his eyes as his vision of your skin blurred.

“Hey, Don’t worry Eiji,” Your hand went into his hair and tangled in the locks of his nape, massaging his scalp. “You’re allowed to be upset babe...”

Goosebumps erupted in his skin when the pet name slipped from your lips. You never called him anything else besides Eiji or Red Riot, and it felt like a caress to his torn soul.

He separated from you and without a breath to catch he crashed his lips into yours, earning a startled moan from your lips.

Kirishima blocked the outside world with your mouth, and he was relieved when you melted into his touch.

Ooh In the muddy water we’re falling Ooh In the muddy water we’re crawling Holds me down

How the both of you ended in between his sheets, even when he was convinced he had met up with you to only end whatever you two had was a question he didn’t want answered.

Your clothes fell to the floor and in the blink of an eye he was on top of you, skin flushed and lips swollen from your kisses.

Kirishima hesitated for a second above you, his arms on each side of your head locked up and the air got stuck inside, his eyes adverted yours, skin crawling with doubt. Sensing his turmoil, you grabbed his neck and brought him in for a searing kiss that evaporated almost every thought that didn’t revolve around you from his mind.

Almost.

His body fitting like a puzzle piece against your own was a bliss.

He tried not to think if your spouse fit in the same way, but the thought was gnawing at the back of your mind. His chest felt tight, as if a building had fell on top of him, and his quirk was futile to protect him .

The tears never abandoned is eyes, and now they were even more close to pour from him. He didn’t want you to see him like that, so he hid his face in between your breast, holding his breath until he could see black dots invading his vision.

You knew him like nobody else, and without the need for him to voice over his concerns, with strength that came with being a pro hero you flipped the positions with ease.

Imprisoned by your legs on each side of his hips Kirishima could only stare with wide eyes full of adoration how you leaned down and peppered feather like kisses onto his face, showering him with affection and love he so much needed .

the only problem was that your affection only made him love you harder, and his love for you was killing him.

Ooh, I will ask you for mercy

I will come to you blind What you’ll see is the worst me I’m not the last of my kind

The minutes kept passing, and the temperature in the room rose steadily.

With his hands buried deep into your hair and his lips tightly pressed against your pulse with a passion that turned your knees into jelly, Kirishima plead to whoever deity that was watching to have compassion.

He was just a man in love, but he knew that was no excuse.

He could never feel proud of his actions, but the deep need inside of him that always seemed to drag him back to you kept driving him through the frenzy of desire that always startled him when both of your lips met his

Hours passed and only when the both of you had used all your energy and were left with short panting breaths and tremor recorring your bodies, on a pile of sweating limbs and sticky skin, Kirishima collapsed on top of you.

Flashback of every time he woke up to an empty bed planted the seed of fear once more in his chest. He didn’t want the story to repeat itself, like a broken record. He wished he could have you in the way he longed for. To wake up next to you and have coffee together, and maybe some pancakes Bakugo taught how to cook. Just spending a lazy morning sprawled next to you, his black sheets covering you, and maybe even have your own toothbrush in his bathroom, so you wouldn’t have to be insecure about your morning breath. The showers the both of you could share, him massaging your scalp with that heavenly vanilla scented shampoo you loved so much.

Kirishima could feel your breath slowing down, the lazy rising of your chest lulling him to sleep. With a foggy mind and exhausted emotions, his arm circled your waist with a vice grip, subconsciously trying to make you stay forever by his side. Kirishima nuzzled your shoulder and his leg went on top of yours, holding onto you like a lifeline he needed in the sea of despair he seemed to float around for a while now.

“Don’t go...” He mumbled with a small whiny voice, half hoping you would listen and half hoping you couldn’t notice how needy he was for a piece of your heart. He didn’t hear a response from you, slipping into the void of slumber, he never noticed the stop in your breath or the way your hand found his in between your chests.

Ooh Don’t fail me now Put your arms around me and pull me out

The soft morning light entered through his open blinds, heating up the skin on his bare back

His brain was groggy, and he felt his legs burn with a familiar ache. When he acknowledge the rest of his body, he remembered the moments you two had spent together the night before and he refused to open his eyes, not wanting to see the empty space next to him.

Sighing, he shifted in bed, his arm reaching across the bed to prove his theory right, desperately hoping he was wrong. The only thing he could feel under his fingertips was the deserted pace you had occupied when he had fallen asleep.

If his soul still had a little part unbroken, now it was simply shattered, the pieces of his heart falling to the ground at the same pace his tears cascaded down his cheeks.

He tried to contain back a sob, but he no longer had the strength to do so. The sound of his ragged breath was drowning the outside world. He was a pro hero who was crying over being a second choice. That wasn’t manly at all.

He felt so ashamed now, his desperate pleads for you to choose him had fell on deaf ears. You had left him once more alone to pick the broken pieces of his being that you threw into the ground without a second thought.

The creaking of the door opening snapped his attention. If a thief had entered, he had no will to fight him off, the most precious thing for him had left once more.

His bloodshot teary eyes met yours and he gasped.

You stood there, a tray with two mugs of coffee and a plate of pancakes in your hands. His shirt pooling over your body covering your exposed skin, bare legs peaking from under it. Your hair was a mess, but it was the prettiest mess he had ever seen in his life.

Because it was a mess that had stayed the night and now was pampering with breakfast in bed.

Kirishima sat up in the bed fast as lighting, blood rushing down making him dizzy, his eyes going black for a second, not able to see you and he could almost feel the panic rising up his throat, Kirishima was afraid that if he lost sight of you for only a fraction of a second you would vanish.

When his eye functioned again, there you were, kneeling besides his side of the bed. The marks on your neck he had left with his sharp theet a furious shade of red, just like his hair. Your expression hold concern beyond measure.

“Hey... Baby what’s wrong?” You cooed, stroking his cheeks and taking the messy locks of hair away from his face. “Eiji...?”

His brain had short-circuited. He now understood the downside of Kaminari’s quirk. He felt dumbstruked under your eyes that shone under the morning light.

Kicking the sheets off of his body, he knelt down in front of you and held you close to his chest. The tears kept falling, but now they were those of relief.

“You stayed...” He whispered against your hair.

Nodding your head, you separated a little to see his face.

“Yeah... That’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” You started, a small smile dancing on your lips. “I’m starting the paperwork to make the divorce official. I sat down yesterday and talked to Michael about our marriege and be both agreed it was the best solution...” Your looked timidly up to him.

“What...?” Was he dreaming? Thi couldn’t be real “Why...?”

“Come on Eiji... I thought I made it pretty obvious.” Your eyes cast to the side, a nervous tic he had learned to recognize. You took a leveling breath and grabbed his hands. “I’ve been in love with you for quite some time now... and I just couldn’t keep this up, I want all of you Kirishima, not just a few hours a month.”

If you were waiting for a verbal response, he oudn’t give you one.

The only thing that felt right was envelop you in a bear hug and guide you to the bed once more, the tray long forgotten on the floor next to the bed.

Ooh I know I’m found With your arms around me, oh save me now

As the both of you were sprawled on his couch, Kirishima felt lighter, almost as if his body was filled with clouds and he could just float away with a single breeze. It was a good change from the previous month where his shoulders weighting the world.

You were sitting on the couch with his head on your lap, running your fingers through his hair as you scrolled through social media. His arms imprisoned your waist and his face was pressing against your stomach. The scent of his detergent had replace the one you used and the giddy sensation he got from that single fact made him blush.

Thinking back at the months of shared affairs, he noticed how far the two of you had come, and how much he endure just to maybe have what he did in that exact moment with you.

“Hey... (Y/n)?” He softly asked. When your hum filled his ears, and your phone was discarded to give him your full attention, he pronounced the words he had stuck in his throat for years now. “I love you.”

A soft smile pulled the corner of your lips, and Kirishima rolled onto his back to get a better look of it. Extending his hand and caressing your face, he noticed how easier it was to breathe.

The time he spent in that cold and ugly place was worth it, because in the end, you were there, pulling him out of the muddy waters that threatened to drown him.

#kirishima eijiro imagine #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijirou angst #angst #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #My hero academia x reader #Kirishima #Eijirou #I love this baby