#wish people would get sober and see reality

[aphroditesswan]

OML THANK U FOR RESPONDING TO MY QUESTION 😭🙏

Okay so like how about this...

Chuuya and reader/y/n are dating, but she's been hanging out with dazai more often then with him. But in reality they ploting a surprise for him for an anniversary or his birthday! (Gender can be any I don't mind!)

Angst to fluff please 😢🙏

Can be either a short fic, headcanon or anything I don't mind as long as ur confterble and happy! Anyways have a nice day/night (might request more in the future...) ♡♡

rather melodramatic, aren’t you? 

chuuya nakahara x gn! reader 

warnings : a lotttt of drinking, jealousy, insecurities in the relationship 

summary : chuuya absolutely loses himself thinking of why you would pick dazai of all people over him to hang out with, jumping to conclusions until you get home to explain everything. 

genre : angst to fluff with like one suggestive comment 

notes : i listened to cigarettes out the window, a pearl, step on me, the other woman christmas kids, and mr loverman for this so if you see any references to those, they were most def intentional 😭

its been a week and you’ve been hanging around that idiotic dazai, probably out flirting and getting all close to him… 

at least that’s how it was in chuuya’s eyes. 

he was a bit delusional and when you sprinkle dazai in along with the absolute insanity that goes on in his head, it can’t lead to anything good. 

maybe you’re growing tired of him, he thinks. 

maybe you’ve grown to love that idiot more than him, he thinks. 

there are infinite possibilities running through chuuya’s head as he consistently drinks away this thoughts, the days and nights feeling utterly, completely, inexplicably empty without you. 

you fill the hole in his heart that he’s had for as long as he can remember, and to think he’d have dazai take that away from him?? 

not on his watch. 

well… his sober watch.

he threw his hat onto the couch, grabbing a bottle of wine without even looking at the cabinets for a cup. he didn’t care at l this point, all he wanted was to forget the ache in his chest, the spinning in his stomach, the burn of tears in his eyes as he flopped his back flat on the bed, breathing deeply to at least try and calm himself even a little bit. 

but he knew that was pointless. 

he felt like nothing without you. sure he was an important figure in the Port Mafia but without you? please, his status and power could’ve meant the same as a dirty nickel he almost tripped on while walking on the sidewalk. 

he opened the bottle, sitting up as he did so he didn’t spill it all over his soft silk sheets. those were expensive, not worth the mess he thought. 

he chugged a bit of it, throwing the cork into a forgotten corner of the room as he threw his head back to throughly get the most out of his five second gulp. 

he slammed it onto the nightstand, the aggression in his movements aimed at you, at dazai, at his insecurities. he tore his gloves off, throwing them onto the nightstand before putting his hands over his face, his fingers in his hair as he quietly cried into his hands. 

he wished he was better. he knew him and dazai were a team at times, that you wouldn’t do this to him, that he was just as good as everyone else if not better… 

but he couldn’t shake it. he couldn’t shake his insecurities, his anxieties all because of dazai.  

he’d drink himself to death inside a prison cell before he admits that though. 

he just wished that you wouldn’t disappear from his life, he’d let you do whatever you want as long as you stay with him. okay, that was a lie, he isn’t a pushover. a devoted boyfriend? absolutely but a doormat? never.

he grabbed the cold dark bottle of wine again, drinking and crying the rest of the sunset away as all he could think and worry about was whatever the hell you and dazai were doing and why you had barely texted him all week. 

he paced through your shared bedroom, talking rather loudly to himself as he tried to come up with reasonable explanations, his reasoning for your absence getting more and more insane as he kept drinking. 

thankfully, he heard you finally walk through the door. he quickly grabbed his hat, throwing it on as he went to meet you at the door with his cheeks flushed and his eyes dazed from alcohol. 

“there you are! do you- do you know how long i’ve been waiting for you- to get back? i swear i was about to text you and ask what- what position you two were in for fucks sake i-“ 

he rambled on and on until he saw your amused yet concerned smile… and a gift bag in your hand…? 

“what the hell- stop smiling like that! don’t tell me dazai got you that bullshit- you’ve got to be joking don’t tell me your-“ 

he was cut off by a kiss, his lips tasting like alcohol and his breath smelling the same. you counted the seconds until midnight like it was new year’s eve and although you could tell he was already breathless, you didn’t let go. he could hold out for just a bit longer, he’d have to. 

as soon as it hit 12:00 and the notification for a very very special day popped up you let him go, the poor man almost falling straight into you. 

“why-… the hell did you-“ 

“it’s april 29th chuuya.” 

“what does that have to do with anything? i don’t give a single shit what the day is.” 

“chuuya.” 

“what??” 

“it’s your birthday. happy birthday, love.” 

you smiled, one hand still holding onto his shoulder and the other bringing up the gift bag you have for him. it takes him a good minute or two, but eventually his drunken mind put two and two together and figured out everything on its own. 

“oh- ohhh… ugh, i’m so sorry dear.” 

he groaned with a frown, his forehead falling onto your shoulder as he lazily wrapped his arms around your waist to bring you closer to him. 

“it’s fine chuu, i missed you, you know. it’s not easy keeping secrets.” 

“i’m glad you feel that way.” 

he sighed into your shoulder, breathing in your scent. he thanked the gods that you didn’t smell a bit like dazai but just like you always do, maybe a bit tainted with wine and his cologne but that’s how he liked it, he was possessive like that. 

“we can spend the day together… right? just us for today.” 

“well after you get some sleep and a pill for your hangover, yes of course we can.” 

“as long as you come with me, i accept.

“see? what would you do without me.”

“baby, i’m a wreck when i’m without you.”

sorry this was super short!! i wrote this at like midnight cause that’s when i get randomly motivated but i hope this is to your liking!! please feel free to request more :DD

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya angst #bsd angst #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x reader #bungo stray dogs angst #chuuya fluff #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara fluff #chuuya nakahara angst #chuuya nakahara bsd #chuuya bsd

[lutewife]

Imagine dancing with fem! Alastor.... Especially in the rain

-⚱️

"Strangers in the Night"

gn!reader, platonic, lonely reader, sinner reader, no y/n written, reader is NOT a minor, only in retrospective

Warnings: Murder, existential crisis, really bad angst (im so sorry), overall freaky

Notes: Good to see you here with us Prochy anon 🫶 Finally somebody with style graced us with their presence, of course I can write it, darling! (I will make you cry with this, because I just knoooow how you love angst 🥰). I didn't write it in the rain cause Idk how rain works in hell so yeah haha

Summary: Reader comes back from a party, depressed and runs into The Radio Demon. Alas tries to make the reader smile, so she invites them to dance. But there is a twist...

Crossposted on Ao3: @domaiscool

You were coming back from a party. In your right hand there were scissors. You were playing with them trying to distract yourself.

Your head was hurting from the transient noise when you passed by the clubs and bars. Well, at least you thought it was by the noise. In reality, you just caught yourself on thinking too much again.

Was it the alcohol that did it for you? Probably.

You just wanted to get out of this loud district. You have had enough of drunk people and bad music for the night.

Yeah... The drunk people. Making out with eachother and whispering those sweet nothings into their ears constantly. Giggling and squeling.

It made you cringe, at least you wanted to think that. In reality, you were just too lonely to think "good for them". While being in hell, it was usually really hard to find a partner who actually loved you and wasn't just coming for your body. But at this point you just wanted what they had. You just wanted someone to rely on, to prey on. Actually even a friend, even family member, would be good. Your standards lowered when the loneliness got to you. Afterlife is sometimes like that and you just pretended you didn't care. It worked somewhat, at least it made you feel less depressed.

When you were drifting into your thoughts again, something, or maybe someone, interrupted you. In a spur of a moment you staggered, before finding yourself spread over on the ground, your butt hurting mercilessly, since you landed on the scissors.

- Hey! - you growled, massaging the sore spot, then got up quickly and looked before you.

It seemed like you arrived at the nearby park. Everything would be nice, amazing even, if you didn't have company. In front of you at the bench, was seated an elegant looking lady with some kind of walking stick, which probably was the reason of your hurting butt. Or maybe it was a cane? You couldn't make it out in such low light. What you knew for sure though, is that she was smiling from ear to ear.

- Oh, I'm sorry darling, did I startle you? That's what you get by walking with your head in the clouds! - said the woman, before robotically laughing. She didn't make any effort of giving you a helping hand. Whatever. It's not like helping people up was a common thing to do in hell.

You scoffed, trying to get the dirt off your clothes. Just as you were going to insult her in every possible way and language it hit you.

Red colour palette, cane, everlasting smile and the strangely familiar voice that was accompanied by the sound of the radio static...

You suddenly sober up.

- The Radio Demon...? - it slipped out. Terrified expression on your face didn't go unnoticed. The Overlord herself looked unbothered by the reaction.

- I'm sorry miss, I mean ma'am, I mean miss-misstress...? Uh... Lady? - you stuttered, the words seeming to fail you. She just grinned wider.

- Oh, how sweet! Now you're trying! - The woman seemed to make fun of your miserable attempts.

You just frowned even more, cringing. Nice. You were making a fool of yourself before The Radio Demon, who is more dangerous than fucking nitric acid. She could kill you here and there if she wished to. Fortunely, the woman didn't seem to want to. How reassuring.

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you sat down next to her, keeping your distance. It was too late to run away now.

The woman raised her eyebrow, noticing your movement, but she was rather pleased at your decision. At least you didn't fuck up that badly.

After some time she asked, as if casually:

- Why the long face, dear?

- Do I know you? - you responded with another question, wondering if you fucked up in the past and now she was coming for you.

- Oh, judging by your face, you know me very well - her smile almost extended beyond her face.

You felt absolutely terrified, but just as you were to stutter something out again, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth:

- Worry not, I don't want to hurt you.

You breathed out loudly. The woman seemed amused again (but with her expression it was hard to tell).

- Although I might change my mind if you won't brighten up that face of yours - her voice felt almost threatening, although her tone remained the same.

Intimidated, you tried to smile a little, but failed miserably. A loud groan escapes your lips.

- I can't. There's nothing to smile about in my life.

You could almost swear that The Radio Demon fought the urge to roll her eyes.

- No wonder you are so depressed, if you think like that - the woman stated dryly - Smile is a valuable tool, my dear. Even if you don't feel like it, you should use it - she lectured you, but you didn't feel like hearing her out. This was all a bunch of nonsense to you.

- No thanks, I'm not good at lying. Besides I don't like to - you said, dissmisingly, surprising the overlord. She didn't think of it that way before. Well, to be more precise, she has never had such a difficult audience.

The woman leaned on the cane slightly and stroked her neck, in thought.

- Do you enjoy dancing? - she finally spoke, her voice raised in question.

- Excuse me? - you felt perplexed at the sudden inquiry.

- I said, do you like dancing, my dear? - she repeated herself, expecting your baffled expression.

- I-I don't know? I've never danced before... - you just felt even more crestfallen and re-adjusted a strand of your hair that was getting into your eye. Was she planning something?The Radio Demon smiled even wider, knowingly.

- Well then... It is never too late to try! - she got up suddenly and gave you her hand.

In the moonlight, or should I say, in the deep red of the sky, she looked especially beautiful. Maybe even a little bit creepy, since her wide grin seemed really out of place in the low light. But the curly hair and wavy dress moving in the wind gave her a disturbing charm you couldn't really place a finger on. Either way, you took her hand warily.

Before you knew it, the woman pulled you along and snapped her fingers with the free hand.

It was strange. You were in hell, but the music which played that time was divine. Little lively melody, but oh goddess, how melancholic and real it felt. You didn't feel like you were a soul right now, even more so a demon; you felt like you were a child. Although a step away from innocence and step further into darkness. The woman really did sway you into a familiar rhythm. An unnaturally young soul, who wasn't suited for all the pain they felt. Finally: you smiled. But it wasn't a smile full of joy. It was a smile of regret.

Lost in the depths of hell, without a mother, or a father, or a sister, or a brother... Lost in the eyes of others, they simply forgot how to function themselves. Pulled into a tango with a much more powerful being, condemned to perdition in it's irises. A man who escaped from cruelty - that's who you were.

A younger version of you spoke, holding a pair of scissors. They were standing behind the woman you danced with and repeating it over and over again, but you didn't want to hear. You knew. And you didn't want to be reminded.

The music coming from the cane was starting to be even more hectic, not so divine as before. Now it was surely a music suited for hell.

Her dress was twirling. It reminded you of turquoise waves you've seen in the living world once. You wondered if the woman once was a human too, not some gruesome monster she was perceived as. Two strangers in the night, you seemingly didn't know anything about eachother, but danced nevertheless.

You were also amazed that you haven't stepped on her toes. It was a miracle, because you weren't thinking at all about your moves now. Too stuck in the past to be thinking rationally, you were yet to discover inevitable.

She twirled you and closing your eyes, you blacked out.

It went by like a flash.

Core memory of life. Playing in the night. Escaping from the courtyard. The smell of grass and trees. The scissors starring as a plane.

A deer. But was it?

Sneaking.

Closing eyes.

The tension.

And the release.

Scissors stuck in the flesh.

Happiness.

Momentarily.

It wasn't.

It wasn't a deer.

You were just depending on your mother. She told you to bring the dinner. Even your father was teaching you how to shoot animals. So you killed, because you weren't so keen on being hungry the whole week again. You liked your scissors more, although the animals fleed before you could stab them with it.

It was normal for you.

But what wasn't normal, was that you actually managed to kill it with your sharp scissors.

And that this time... It was a woman.

You groggily opened your eyes and winced. Your back was hurting.

- Fuck... - you groaned, getting up. You were seated on a bench. The same one The Radio Demon...

Oh.

Yes. The woman.

Where was she right now?

You could still almost feel her delicate hand on yours. Shuddering, you massaged it.

And then you felt something on your cheek. It was cold. A tear...?

And another. And another. Great. Now you were crying. Why? You knew exactly why. But you didn't even want to think about it. You wanted to erase it from your memory. Even if she probably killed more people than you ever did, even if she was now a monster, you just couldn't manage to stop your saddness.

Because you remember how she danced. Her twirling dress, the waves. Long, long time ago, she was human.

You'll block it out soon, surely. But before you do that, you decided to say one, important word:

- Sorry.

Proofread by: @koonczi

Fem!Alastor doodles on the header: @m00ndia

I still don't feel like it's good enough, but I hope you liked this lil' one shot :)

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fem!alastor #fem!alastor x reader #genderbend #alternative universe #gn!reader #angst #hazbin hotel angst

[morganski-19]

Things I Won't Say When I'm Sober Part 4

part one, part three, part 5

In the morning Steve wakes up like he fell asleep. Eddie still lying on his chest, wrapped up in Steve’s arms, deep asleep. Steve doesn’t quite know what to do. If he had to choose, he’d stay here until Eddie woke up. Assure him that he doesn’t judge him for what happened last night and that this was okay with him. That in fact, he wouldn’t care if every one of his mornings started like this. Watching Eddie wake up, feeling the deep inhales and heartbeats as he was wrapped up in Steve’s arms. The quiet moments in a relationship that make Steve’s heart flutter. 

He can’t choose that though, because he knows what’s actually going to happen. Eddie will wake up and immediately jump out of Steve’s arms, apologizing for what happened last night even through Steve’s reassurance. Then Steve would slip out that he liked it, that he wished it would happen more often. Eddie would look at him in disgust and kick Steve out of his bed. Kick him out of the trailer and never want to see him again. Steve would lose Eddie because he was stupid enough to catch feelings for his friend. 

Even though those feelings were probably the easiest thing Steve had ever caught. It was so simple and easy to fall for Eddie. And it would be so simple for Eddie to dismiss Steve and cut him out of his life because he felt this way. 

Steve has to get out of the bed. Not just to evade the inevitable, but also because the discomfort in his bladder can’t really be ignored. Slowly, he unwraps his arms around Eddie and lifts him slightly, moving him off of Steve and back on his side of the bed. He’s really lucky that Eddie sleeps like the dead, otherwise, this would have been a lot more awkward. 

He closes the door softly behind him, looking at Eddie again before he leaves. Robin is still asleep on the couch, curled up with the blanket that Eddie lent her. He remembers the promise that he made her last night. Knowing that she’ll ask pretty much as soon as she wakes up. That he’ll finally have to tell her what he’s been too afraid to even speak. She’ll be supportive, of course, but she might encourage it. Give him hope that Eddie might actually like him back even though he knows that’s not the case. 

Even if Eddie liked guys too, who’s to say that he would choose Steve out of all people? Steve wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

When he walks out of the bathroom, Robin sits up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Steve,” she mumbles. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he whispers across the room. She shakes her head. He walks over and sits on the ground, his back leaning against the couch. “How’d you sleep.”

“Fine, I guess.” She rubs the goosebumps away on her arms. “How was sleeping with Eddie?’

Steve shrugs, unsure if he should tell her about what happened last night. “You know him, he’s the deepest sleeper I know. So it was fine.”

“So,” she drags out. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“I thought you were going to take longer to ask,” he sighs. 

Robin slides off of the couch and sits next to him. “We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. You did promise me though.”

“I know. Just … scared of him overhearing.”

“I mean you said it yourself, he’s asleep. Is it really that bad if he does?”

Steve nods, staring down at his fingers. “It could ruin everything, Rob. I-I’m just so scared that this-”

Robin grabs his hand. “Steve, look at me.” He does, the worry in his eyes meeting the soft comfort of hers. “You know you can tell me anything right?”

He nods, remembering the simple space of trust that they formed that day in the mall on the bathroom floor. Robin bore a part of her soul that she never told anyone else, the fear in her eyes that this small fact about herself would make him hate her. When in reality it only made him love her more. Because with the small amount of time they knew each other, she decided that he was safe enough to place her trust in. And now the roles are reversed, but that didn’t make it any easier to say. 

“I know. It’s just-,” he looks down at their joined hands. “Do you remember when you told me you liked girls? You were so scared to even say the words out loud that you almost didn’t say them at all.”

“Yeah, that was the first time I ever admitted it to someone else. But what does that have to do with this?”

He looks back up at her, hoping the small reference is enough for her to read his mind. “Robin.”

She squints her eyes before they widen with realization. “Oh.”

Steve nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah, oh.”

Robin bites her lip, looking at him with a small sense of sadness. “And the reason he can’t know is-”

“Yeah, 'cause I don’t know how he’ll react if he figures out I like him.” There is it, the words that have taken so long for him to accept out in the open. Free-floating in the warm comfort that is Robin’s presence. 

It isn’t long before Robin is hugging him, gripping him tightly and not letting go. Steve buries his face in her neck, letting the stress of the situation finally take over. Letting go of everything he’s tried so hard to keep in. 

“It’s going to be ok,” Robin assures, rubbing a hand up and down his back as the tears start to fall. She lets him cry on her for some time, not caring that the tears stain her shirt. Slowly, the tears start to stop and relief spreads through his body.

“Is this what you go through all of the time?” he asks quietly.

Robin scoffs. “Yeah. Sucks right.”

Steve lets out a wet laugh, sitting up and wiping away his remaining tears. “It really does.”

“Your situation is better than mine though. I think you have a good shot of him liking you back.”

“I don’t think so, Rob. How are you even sure that he likes guys?”

She shrugs. “I just have a feeling.”

“Like my feeling that Vicky liked you back.”

“Yes, except my feeling is correct,” she says with a roll of her eyes. 

“Did you,” he clears his throat. “Did you have that feeling about me?”

She gives him a smug look. “I might have guessed it.”

“Really?”

“Have you seen the way you’ve looked at Eddie recently? And the whole thing with his hair yesterday. The fuck was that?”

He laughs. “Ok, fair.”

Robin's face softens again. “What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea,” he looks forward again. “Just wait for it to go away I guess.”

“You really think that can happen?” she leans her head on his shoulder. 

Steve sighs. “Not really. Not soon at least. I haven’t felt like this for anyone in a while.”

“And you’re sure he doesn’t like you back?”

He presses his lips together and takes a second to think. “No, I’m sure.”

“Why are you sitting on the floor when there’s a couch right behind you?” Eddie asks, standing by the kitchen

“Uh,” Steve starts, trying not to panic. “How long have you been standing there?”

Eddie crosses his arms and squints his eyes. “I asked you first.”

Robin stretches next to him. “Cause the floor is comfortable and I got tired of sitting on your couch. Your turn.”

“I just walked out of my room and you two were just staring at my wall, so not more than thirty seconds I guess. You guys want some breakfast?” he walks behind the counter.

“Ugh I would, but I should really get home before my parents freak out.” Robin stands, using Steve’s shoulder as a balance. 

He follows, thankful for the easy out. “What should I do with these?” he gestures down to the clothes Eddie lent them.

“I don’t know, just bring them back the next time you come over. We can call them Stevie’s high pajamas. Nice bedhead by the way.”

Steve’s hand jumps to his head, immediately trying to smooth out his hair. “Is it bad?”

“Nah, it’s cute. Eddie turns away, pouring cereal into his bowl. 

“Well uh, bye. See you around I guess,” Steve jumbles out, feeling his face flush. 

He all but pushes Robin out the door as she yells goodbye. When they get to his car, he grips the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. 

“You’re hopeless,” is all Robin says before he starts driving.

another part coming soon!! (it may be the last but depends on the length. it is wrapping up soon though.)

Tag list (lmk if you want to be added or removed): tag list: @imfinereallyy @estrellami-1 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @overhillunderhill @renaissan-vvitch @ashwagandalf @sirsnacksalot @lorelei724 @emly03 @super-cosmic-library @rozzieroos @dolphincliffs @henderdads @abyssal808 @evergreenprose @demolvr @steddiehyperfixation @stedumpsterfire @ent-is-indecisive @steddierthings @makeadealwithdean @kas-eddie-munson @extra-transitional @lunaticmarunatic @steveharringtonmilf @cardboardqueen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @panicatthediaz @ellietheasexylibrarian @hallucinatedjosten @awkwardgravity1 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @its-a-me-a-morgan @messrs-weasley @dreamlandforever @stevesbipanic @inmoonywetrust @sani-86 @aellafreya @lorelei724 @punkprettyboyprincess

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #coming out #getting together #almost there #but not yet #things i wont say when i’m sober #multiple parts #part 4 #fanfic #fic #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic

[yourfavbunni]

Satoru x Reader

Synopsis: heartbreak heartbreak heartbreak | Part 2

A/N: Wanted to write something angsty

As night approached, you found yourself waiting anxiously for Satoru to show up for your date. You had taken the time to dress up, putting effort into looking your best for him.

But as the minutes turned into an hour, Satoru was nowhere to be found, a sense of disappointment began to settle in. You texted and called him multiple times only to be left on delivered or the call going to voicemail.

You decided to text Geto, one of his close friends, and someone he usually got paired up with on missions to see if they had gotten caught up on one, hoping for some sort of explanation. You didn’t have his number, but you remembered you followed him on social media, so you knew you could text him there. Only to be hit with the explanation you were looking for, there it was: a picture of Satoru at a party, surrounded by people, a carefree smile on his face.

Anger welled up within you; there he was having fun while you looked stupid waiting for him to show up. You sent him a message, keeping your words short. "Nice to see you’re having fun," you typed, your tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and disappointment.

It was like Satoru knew something was wrong because he instantly read your message.

As he read your message, a wave of panic washed over him. How could he have forgotten about your date?

Realizing his mistake, He called, and he was relieved you picked up the call the first time. "Shit, baby, I'm so sorry. I completely lost track of time. I didn’t mean to, I swear. The guys wanted to go out. and I just—I didn’t forget, okay? I swear," he said, his words slurring out.

Finally, you spoke. "You not forgetting doesn’t help Gojo; you knew how much I wanted to spend time with each other; you could’ve least replied earlier", you said a bit harshly.

"I fucked up, okay? We can reschedule it; don’t be so dramatic about it", he said, sounding annoyed. Perhaps it was the alcohol in his system that made him respond like that.

You listened as the words came out of Satoru’s mouth. Were you really being dramatic? "Whatever,” you mumbled without saying anything else. You hung up on the call. How could he call you dramatic? It wasn’t the first time Satoru had stood you up on a date.

You ordered yourself an Uber home, unlocking the door to the apartment you shared with Satoru. You took your heels off and hung your coat. A part of you wished he would try calling back or had blown up your phone with messages saying how sorry he was, but he didn’t.

You tried to not let it bother you. It was past midnight now, and all you wanted to do was crash on to your bed. You took off your makeup and took a warm shower. Right as you were getting out, you heard the door handle moving around and the door being opened.

You quickly got dressed and headed out of the bedroom.

Satoru stumbled through the front door, the scent of alcohol clinging to his clothes. He could sense the disappointment in the air and the tension from his previous actions lingering like a thick fog.

He made his way towards you, his steps unsteady. "Baby," he slurred, his voice betraying the effects of the alcohol. "I know I messed up. I know I let you down. But I want to make it right."

He reached out to touch you, his hand trembling slightly, but you pulled away, a mix of anger and sadness etched on your face. "Satoru , you can't keep doing this," you said, your voice laced with frustration. "You can't keep hurting me and expect everything to be okay."

He winced at your words, the truth of them hitting him hard. "I know," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, baby. I don't want to hurt you. I want to be better, to be the partner you deserve."

Silence hung in the air, the weight of the moment almost suffocating.

You finally said, "I think it’s best we take a break". Hearing those words come out of your mouth sobered Satoru up an instant.

As your words hit him, the reality of the situation sank in.

Your words hit him like a punch. A break? The thought of being without you, even temporarily, was almost unbearable.

"No," he protested, his voice filled with desperation. "Please, baby, don't do this. I know I've messed up, but I don't want to lose you. I can't imagine my life without you."

You looked at him with a mix of sadness and resolve in your eyes. "Satoru , we need this break. We both need time to reevaluate our relationship and figure out what we truly want. It's not fair to either of us to keep going like this."

Deep down, he knew you were right. Your relationship wasn’t heading in a good direction, and the both of you needed to heal and grow individually.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "If that's what you think is best, then I'll respect your decision. Just know that I do love you, Y/N".

You nodded, tears glistening in your eyes, and you both knew that this was a painful but necessary step towards finding what had made the two of you fall in love in the first place.

.

.

.

#gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen satoru

[sheliesshattered]

Sylki fic: When She Sings She Sings Come Home

Loki/Sylvie, 3200 words. Post s02e06 fix-it, angst with a happy ending. Also available on AO3 under the same title and username.

--

When She Sings She Sings Come Home

Sylvie wakes with Loki’s voice in her ears.

It’s been months since she last saw him, striding out to the Loom to save the timelines. Winter has come and gone, here in this little corner of a branch that she’s made her home. Every day that’s passed, she’s half expected to turn around and see him standing there, like that night he appeared in the parking lot next to her truck. But for months, there’s been nothing but the absence of him, growing larger and more crystalline every day.

She wakes with his voice in her ears, singing that ridiculous song from the train on Lamentis.

To Sylvie, everybody! he’d said, grinning at her, not drunk only too full. She would give anything to see him smile like that again. She would give anything to see him again.

And it isn’t that she hasn’t looked. Of course she had. She’d barely gotten through a single shift at McDonald’s after leaving Mobius standing outside his variant’s house before she’d used He Who Remain’s TemPad to try to find Loki.

He wasn’t dead. She knows he isn’t dead. But he also isn’t anywhere. There are an infinite number of branches now, layers of reality twisting around each other into something larger, a shape she can almost see, almost recognize. But Loki isn’t on any of them. No matter where she searches, he remains just outside her grasp.

Sylvie goes to work, she drives her truck home, she listens to music at the record store, she checks in on Mobius, she tries to sleep. But everywhere is marked by Loki’s absence, and every moment is overlaid with the sound of him singing.

She can’t find Loki, but that song is a thread she can pull at. Where did he learn it? The words were almost Asgardian, but not quite. Something similar, a branch of the original. A variant. Because of course it was.

It’s not until she thinks to quietly spy on the New Asgard settlement in Norway, forty years on from her quiet life in Oklahoma, that she hears the language again. Norwegian.

Remember this place, she hears Odin say, in a memory that is not hers, rippling through the interwoven timelines because it is what she needs in this moment. Home.

She turns her back on New Asgard, on the man who is almost but not quite her brother, on the Valkyrie who will come to lead their people like the hero out of a saga that Sylvie had once wished she could become. She turns her back, and walks into this strange, beautiful land. Norway. One tiny place on one tiny planet in one insignificant branch of the ever-growing tree of time, where the syllables are shaped into words that resonate with Loki’s voice from so long ago.

Sylvie wanders into pubs, into taverns, into bars, into concerts. She hums the few notes that never leave her head, and hopes to find someone who knows the song.

Until, miraculously, one day, she does.

“It’s an old drinking song,” the bearded man at the bar tells her, gesturing with his beer. “It’s about taking the long way home, but knowing you’ll get there in the end.”

“Can you teach it to me?” Sylvie asks, unblinking, gaze trained on the stranger’s face.

“For that, I will need a lot more beer.”

So she buys him beers. She coaxes the song out of him. She buys rounds for the whole bar, until they are all singing it. They teach her the words in Norwegian, teach her to shape the vowels as carefully as any incantation, and then teach her the meaning behind the words.

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

In the apple garden stands the maiden fair

and sings, “When will you come home?”

“You, I think,” her drunk bearded acquaintance says to her, “you are the maiden fair.”

“And what if I am?” Sylvie asks, raising her chin, still dead-sober despite the bourbon clutched in her hand.

“Then you must sing for him to come home!”

“From an apple orchard, if you can manage it,” leers his friend next to him.

“Will it work?” she hears herself say.

“Of course it will work! Music is magic. Galdr, they used to call it, in the old religion. The power of your voice to shape reality.” The man is drunk, but his words tug at something in Sylvie’s memory, long buried. “Sing, and he will come home.”

“As simple as that?”

The bearded man laughs uproariously. “When has love ever been simple?” he demands jovially. “When has magic ever been easy? But that does not mean it is not worth trying. There is beauty in the trying. There is love in the longing.” He’s slurring his words, barely managing to stay atop his barstool.

But he’s not wrong.

I know what kind of god I need to be, Loki had said, tears shining in his eyes. For you. For all of us.

But Sylvie is a god, too, she reminds herself, as she tosses back her bourbon and turns her back on the little Norwegian town, with the northern lights rippling over head. She’s not the goddess of chaos anymore, and she hasn’t felt mischievous since she was a child.

But the goddess of galdr, yes, that perhaps is something she could be.

She returns to her little Oklahoma town, cloud cover obliterating the stars, and drives her truck to the record store. There’s only one song she wants to hear, only one voice to sing it, but music has been her comfort since she came to this place, and she cannot simply become the goddess of music-turned-into-magic because she wishes it to be so. Music has been her shield, her cocoon, her comfort these long lonely months. Now she must learn to form it into other shapes, into weapons and tools. Into a lighthouse, shining out into the vast dark of the multiverse.

She taught herself enchantment, while running for her life from one apocalypse to the next. She can teach herself galdr in this quiet little record shop in this quiet little town.

Sylvie slides the headphones into place, and lets the music move through her.

Oh, sweet nothin'

She ain't got nothin' at all

Oh, sweet nothin'

She ain't got nothin' at all

But what if she had something? What if she had the one person who would make all of this worth it?

I know what kind of god I need to be, she tells herself. For you, Loki.

She murmurs the words along with the music, infusing them with intent, with magic.

And for one fraction of an instant, she can see him.

He’s alone, on the throne he never wanted, surrounded by the threads of the multiverse, pulsing green as they grow and twist. There is nothing, nothing else, only Loki alone in that vast emptiness, in that expanse of everything that ever was or ever could be.

His eyes are dull, unfocused, far away. And then— a flicker of recognition, a spark of life—

Sylvie loses the connection.

She’s alone on the sofa in the back of the record shop, with Lou Reed singing in her ears.

He ain’t got nothing at all

She drives home. She tries to sleep. She keeps hearing Loki’s voice, keeps seeing him alone in that emptiness. She murmurs into the darkness— not quite a song, not quite a spell—

But trees dance and waterfalls stop

When she sings, she sings “come home”

There is a shape to the enormity of what Loki has done. There is an order to the way the branches of the multiverse wrap around each other. It is just outside her grasp, but Sylvie feels that if she could just see the shape of it, she might understand.

She might be able to reach him.

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone she whispers to the emptiness of her tiny apartment, in this tiny town, in this little branch of a timeline, one miniscule part of a greater whole, and falls asleep dreaming of trees dancing, of waterfalls stopping, of Loki taking her outside the flow of time to tell her that there was no other way to keep her safe.

Sylvie wakes with her own voice in her ears.

The song is coursing through her, jeg saler min ganger, and she can feel the magic at her fingertips, on the tip of her tongue, pushing at the insides of her ribs, swelling her lungs and begging to be released.

I know what kind of god I need to be.

She gets into her truck and drives. North and east, away from everything she knows, vaguely towards those northern lights dancing over the fjords, too far away to reach on roads such as these.

But once upon a time, when she was very young, there was another road. A rainbow road, the Bifrost, that could take her anywhere just like magic.

Every bit of magic she has now she has taught herself. And this, too, this song swelling in her chest, is magic of her own making.

There is beauty in the trying. There is love in the longing.

She drives past fields of wheat and fields of corn, through days and nights, with the glare of the sun or the pattering of the rain against the windshield. Sylvie drives and drives and drives, and keeps the song tucked away inside her, growing in fury like a hurricane in a bottle, like the storm that had raged outside the night they met.

She drives until the scent of apples wafts through the open windows of the truck, and then she pulls over, knowing this was her destination all along.

Iðunn, a childhood memory whispers, too long ago now to have any meaning at all. The apples of eternity.

Home she thinks, and then hears, from a memory not her own:

Asgard’s not a place, it’s a people.

This could be Asgard. Asgard is where our people stand.

Her brother’s voice. The voice of the man who had once raised her as his daughter. The family she lost and can never regain, no matter what shape the multiverse twists itself into. Words reaching across time, across branching timelines, to reach her here and now, because it is what she needs to hear.

Sylvie climbs out of her truck and walks into the apple orchard and doesn’t look back.

She walks until she can no longer see the road from between the trunks and branches. She walks until there is nothing but the smell of apples, the soil under foot, and the sky over head. She walks until the song finally bursts out of her, all of her desperation and loneliness flooding out of her lungs to shake the very air around her, in the shape of words that are his but also hers, now.

But trees dance and waterfalls stop

When she sings, she sings “come home”

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

In the apple garden stands the maiden fair

and sings, “When will you come home?”

But trees dance and waterfalls stop

When she sings, she sings “come home”

When she sings, she sings “come home”

When she sings, she sings “come home”

When she sings, she sings “come home!”

And then he is there, standing beside her in the sunshine and the scent of the apple orchard. Loki glances around at the trees dancing in the wind, his eyes bright, before his gaze snaps to hers.

“You’re here,” Sylvie croaks, her voice burned through with the force of the magic that poured out of her, the magic that’s brought Loki to her.

“No, not really,” he says, his eyes never still as they trace over her face. “I’m still there too. I’m sort of everywhere, really. It’s hard to explain.”

“Help me to understand,” she says before the words even have the chance to fade away. “You said you knew what kind of god you needed to be. You saved us, you saved everything, and then you disappeared. Make me understand.”

“I can’t, Sylvie,” Loki says gently, and there is a sorrow in his eyes deeper than oceans, more boundless than the vastness of space. “It’s been centuries for me. Lifetimes. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Enchant me, he had begged her once, standing in the McDonald’s parking lot in his ridiculous TVA uniform. You can see what I saw.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she tells him, raising her hands slowly towards his face, green magic flickering between her fingers. “Just let me see what you saw.”

“Sylvie,” he starts, and there are tears in his eyes again, like there were in that last moment before he turned his back on her to destroy the Loom.

“We’re the same, remember?” she says, and if her voice cracks it is only because of the abuse it’s suffered, only because of the magic that poured out through her vocal chords to shape reality to her desires. “You shouldn’t have to bear this burden alone, Loki,” she tells him, with as much tenderness as she can force into her ruined voice. “Let me understand.”

“It was the only way,” he says, as if in warning, but Sylvie cups his face in her hands before the tears can fall from his eyes.

Centuries. Lifetimes. The same day, over and over again. Reality unspooling, starting with Victor Timely and ending with her, again and again. Their fight in the Citadel at the end of time, relived hundreds of times, always with the same ending. Always the death of He Who Remains, and the unraveling of everything, failure after failure after failure.

And yet in all of them, she does not kiss him. And he cannot bring himself to kill her. Until only one choice remains.

I know what kind of god I need to be. For you.

Sylvie watches in Loki’s memory as the temporal radiation burns away his TVA uniform, as his magic replaces it with something older, something primal, something true. She watches as he grasps the decaying branches of the multiverse and breathes life into them, wills them to live, to be whole and part of a whole.

She watches as the branches twist around each other, each variation of the timeline finding support in its neighbors, building into something greater than the sum of every moment of every timeline that has ever existed.

She sees the shape of what Loki has done, the enormous, infinite tree dancing in the nothingness outside of time. Yggdrasil, the worldstree, green and glowing, alive and growing, all because Loki willed it so. To restore freewill and safeguard it forever. For all of us.

His hands cover hers and Loki gently pries her fingers away from his face. “Enough, Sylvie. Enough. I know what I’ve done.”

There are tears on her face, the apple-scented wind plucking at the wetness as she stands there, staring at Loki. Even without the enchantment, she can see him sitting on his throne, alone but for the infinite tree he tends.

“It was the only way?” she asks in the ruins of her voice. It is only when he folds his hands around hers that she realizes she is shaking, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Not like dancing. Like shattering, collapsing in on herself with the weight of what he’s done.

“No,” Loki admits. “There was one other way. I could have left He Who Remains in charge. I could have let the TVA go back to pruning the timelines. But I would have had to kill you. I would have had to kill you with my own hands, and watch as you died, and then betray everything you ever believed in. I lived every variation of every action I could possibly change, but not that one. Not that.”

“You don’t even know me,” Sylvie blurts out before the words have fully formed in her mind. All of this, to save her? She cannot, she cannot—

Loki’s expressive face twists, stung by her words, hurt in this moment even beyond the deep sorrow that he wears like a cloak. “Of course I know you,” he says, wounded, his gaze searching her face. “Like I’ve never known anyone. Sylvie, I lov—”

She surges up onto her toes and kisses him, there among the apple trees. She kisses him for what he’s done, for what he refused to do. She kisses him for the loneliness they have both known far too much of, she kisses him for coming when she sang for him to come home. She kisses him because there is nothing else she can do, because there was never any other way for her, either.

And Loki kisses her in return, with a desperation borne of years, centuries, lifetimes of facing this alone. He kisses her in the apple garden, as the trees dance and the waterfalls stand still. He is there, kissing her, but also somewhere else, far away and outside time, tending to the tree that he gave his life to save.

“I can’t stay,” he says when they finally part, pressing his forehead to hers, his hands cupping her jaw in an echo of how she had enchanted him moments before. “I want to stay, more than anything, Sylvie, but I can’t, I can’t.”

“I know,” she assures him, even as she clutches at his robes for fear he will disappear at any moment. “I know you can’t stay here with me,” she says, then takes a deep breath to steady her ragged voice, her thundering heart. “But you don’t have to be alone.”

Loki pulls away abruptly, only far enough to see her face, confusion pinching his features.

“We’re gods, you said,” Sylvie explains, tripping over her words, her voice trembling with the weight of what she has already done, the weight of what she plans to do. “We have a responsibility. That’s what you told me, in that ridiculous room full of pie. We can’t just give everyone freewill and then walk away.” She offers him a small smile, the best she can summon at the current moment. “You have to sustain Yggdrasil. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I did this for you,” he says, holding on to her as desperately as she is clutching at him. “So you could have a life. That’s what you said you wanted, to live.”

“It’s freewill, Loki,” she says, shaking her head. “You can’t just give it to everyone and then be surprised when I use it to choose to be with you. I know what kind of god I need to be. You taught me that. I won’t let you bear this burden alone. That’s the kind of god I choose to be.”

“I can’t let you sacrifice yourself for me—”

“The only sacrifice would be giving you up.”

He gazes at her for a long moment, his uncertainty slowly transforming, then sings softly, “I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene,” and this time Sylvie understands the words. “Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem. I eplehagen står møyen den vene, og synger: ‘når kommer du hjem?’”

The apple orchard dissolves around them, replaced by the rippling greens and blues and purples of Yggdrasil, shimmering in the darkness outside of time.

“Home,” Sylvie says, and kisses him again.

#spoilers #Loki spoilers #Loki show #Loki series #Loki season 2 #Loki and Sylvie #Sylki #Sylki fanfic #pro Sylki #Loki #Sylvie #spoilers for season 2 #spoilers for s02e06 #please reblog and comment! #this poured out of me in one continuous stretch of about 2 hours #minus a quick bathroom break and water refill #I've done an editing pass but my beta-reader has already gone to bed so any mistakes are my own #also available on AO3 under the same title and username #my fanfiction #my writing #When She Sings She Sings Come Home

[betterthanburrow]

Back To December - Joe Burrow

Summary: As the memories of a cold and dark December night continue to haunt your memory as the new season starts… All you wish for is that you could go back in time and change your own mind.

Genre: Angst (Ex Lovers AU)

“So, This Is Me Swallowing My Pride, Standing In Front Of You Saying, “I’m Sorry For That Night” And I’ll Go Back To December All The Time.” - Taylor Swift; Back To December.

As the days are getting longer, your memories of the past starts to haunt you. The snow is melting, The flowers and plants are blooming... but you're still stuck in the same position that you were in months ago.

Spring is the season where the world around you comes back to life after a long and cold Winter... but all that is haunting your mind is the thought of the boy that you left heartbroken on your front porch on a cold December night.

It has only been just about 3 months since that night in December and you haven't heard from the boy since that night... But the phone does go both ways and you didn't try to call him to wish him a happy birthday.

A romance that started in the Summer that you knew from the start wasn't supposed to last longer than it did, but you quickly realized in the Fall that you were in love and the thought of being in love scared you more than you wanted to admit.

As the sound of the shopkeepers bell rings above the door, you were pulled out of your haunting thoughts and brought back into the reality of your workplace as you focus on the pages in your book that you had been reading since the bookstore wasn't busy.

The Cottage BookStore that you have been working at the past few months is the only thing that seems to have brought you some sort of joy... Being surrounded by books in a store that is owned by the sweetest lady is the only reason you haven't left this town after the heartbreak betrayal.

"I knew I would find you here." a voice spoke, a voice that is so familiar yet so foreign, and as you look up from your book that you were reading. Your mind immediately went blank as you realized the familiar yet foreign voice belonged to the man who stood in front of you. The boy that you left heartbroken on your front porch on a cold December night.

You imagined yourself in this position where you would have to confront him for the first time since leaving him heartbroken a few months ago... but now that you're in the situation, your mind has gone blank and you're at a lost for words.

Before you can find the works to reply, the heartbroken boy speaks again. "Can we talk?!"

"I'm busy with work Joesph.” you replied, closing the book in your lap and placing it on the work counter.

Joseph looks around the empty store before turning back at you, giving you a soft smile that you don't deserve to see. “The bookstore is empty, it's only you and me in the bookstore right now, you're not busy.”

Once again, you have no response. Your eyes look around the store to see that it really was empty, and that you and Joseph are the only two people in the store right now. You weren't busy because you spent the past few minutes daydreaming about the boy who is now standing in front of you wanting to have a conversation for the first time in months.

“It doesn't need to be a long conversation, I just need a few minutes of your time." Joseph pleads. "You're the one who asked for me to make time to see you.”

A confused look appears on your face, "What are you talking about?!" you asked, as Joseph pulls out his phone from his pocket and shows you the text message screen.

The text message shown on the screen is a text message you had forgotten that you had sent a few weeks ago... The strong alcoholic wine that you had drank gave you confidence to send a very long text to Joseph but you had deleted the text conversation from your phone before you had the chance to sober up and see the mistake that you had made while drunk.

As you look back up at Joseph, he started to speak again “I know this text was sent by you a couple of weeks ago, but I only found the strength to see you again when I was driving around this area of town." he says as he turns his phone off and puts the phone back in the pocket of his jeans.

You wished that you could’ve thought more on the decision of whether to have conversation with Joseph or whether you should kick him out of the bookstore and go back to daydreaming… but you couldn’t waste any more of his time, he was the one that decided to come visit you at the bookstore even if he only made the decision just because he was in this area of town.

“We can talk until a customer comes in the bookstore and then I will have to get back to work." you stated, as you made your way around the work counter to lead Joseph to a reading area in the back of the bookstore.

After the two of you got comfortable in the chair, you both sat in a silence for about 2 minutes before you decided to take lead of the start of conversation. "How's life?! How is your family?!" you asked. The expression on Joseph face changes from being a blank stare at his hands to him looking up at you with his eyebrows raised in surprised at your questions.

"Life is good, I've been busy with football. My family is good as well, it's been a while since you've seen them.” Joe answers then he asks how life has been for you and how has your family been these past few months.

The two of you make small talk about your work at the bookstore and the changing weather but the small talk continues, you can tell that Joseph's guard is up and there is no reason for you to question why as you are the reason to blame for this small talk quickly becoming and awkward conversation.

The last time you saw Joseph, he gave you beautiful roses after you had opened your front door, but all you did with the roses was leave them on your front porch to die because you couldn’t stand the thought of any object in your house that would remind you of Joseph after you had left him heartbroken on your front porch.

The small talk to awkward conversation was quickly over and the two of you were left in silence again. Your haunting thoughts started to come back to you and you look at the boy who was sitting in front of you, staring off into space as his own thoughts started to haunt him.

"I'm sorry... for that night." you exclaimed, with no hesitation or thought. Once again, Joseph looks up at your with a surprised expression on his face. "I'd go back in time to change it but i can't, I'll go back to December all the time to turn around and change my mind." you continued your thoughts, looking up at Joseph to see his reaction to your words and looking down at your hands that are twiddling in your lap.

This time, Joseph was left with his mind blank and he was at the lost of words at your apology for that December night that has been haunting his mind causing him to lose sleep as the cold dark days came and went with the seasons changing.

"Maybe this is just me mindlessly daydreaming and wishfully thinking... but if we loved again, I swear I'll love you right." you confessed. “You loved me, so good and so right. I think about that September night where you held me in your arms as you saw me cry for the first time. I let the fear creep into my mind and while you gave me your love, all I gave you was a goodbye.”

As Joseph tried to keep his guard up from the moment he walked into the bookstore and saw you for the first time since that December night... he felt his guard slowly coming down, as he could tell your apology for the situation that happened months ago was genuine.

Since the beginning of your romantic relationship in the Summer, realizing that he was in love with you in the Fall, to being heartbroken by you in the Winter, and now wanting to receive closer from you in Spring... the past four seasons were sending him on a rollercoaster ride that he didn't know he signed up to ride.

"Did things start to change for you after that September night when you cried in my arms?!" Joseph asked. While you could be mad that after all you had just confessed and apology for... It didn't shock you that the first thing Joseph would ask about was that September night because it was the first time either of you had brought the topic up since the September night where you had cried in his arms.

The incident that happened in September is something that you and Joseph never talked about since that night, it was an incident that the two of you tried to move on from but as the days were getting colder and darker. That September night was the first night that haunted your relationship before the December night.

“As much as I wish it wasn't... it was the night things started to change, but I didn't realize that things were changing between us before it was too late." You admitted to Joseph, looking up at him with a sorry expression on your face with tears in your eyes.

Before this talk, Joseph thought that he wanted to know the reason why you left him heartbroken on your front porch that December night... but now knowing that the September night where you cried in his arms because of an incident that was his fault was the night where things started to change, he wishes that he never would've wanted to know the reason at all.

If the people walking past the Cottage Bookstore's display windows were to stop and look inside for just a few seconds.. they would see two people sitting down in the reading area who are both not in the right emotional headspace to have a conversation about the night in September and the night in December that ruined their relationship that has a low chance of being salvaged in the future.

Before either of you could say anything to continue the conversation that you needed to have with each other, the shopkeeper's bell rings pulled the both of you out of the emotional headspace. You whisper to Joseph that you need to get back to your job before standing up, as you wipe your tears and walk to greet the customer that had just entered the bookstore.

Joseph was left sitting in the reading area, and while he could overhear the conversation you were having with the customer with helping them trying to find a book, he couldn't gather the strength to leave before he wouldn't know if he'll get the chance to see you again.

If the two of you were in the right emotional headspace, the two of you could plan to meet at a better time to talk about the September night and the December night... you could make plans to meet up at your house but, Joseph doesn't know if he could stand on your front-porch again without feeling like he wants to throw up on the street because of what happened last time he stood on your front porch.

As more customers started to walk into the store, Joseph decided it was best to leave as he didn't want people to view him as a creepy young man who sat in reading areas without a book in his hands. Joseph gathers the strength to find make his way out of the bookstore that he might not step into ever again because of the new haunting memory of the conversation that took place.

Before the shopkeepers bell rang above the door would ring once again, Joseph looks back at you and gives you a soft sad smile but you were too busy to look back at him as you were talking with a customer acting as if the conversation at the reading area with Joseph didn't happen just minutes before.

It took you some time before you would be able to have a few minutes to yourself as you watched the customers shop and talk about their love of books amongst each other... and you sat back at the work counter, your eyes scan the store before you look around the reading area and see two young kids sitting in the two seats that you and Joseph were sitting at having the conversation that is now haunting your mind at any moments of silence.

You don't know if Joseph left the bookstore right after you got up from your seat in the reading area to help out the first customer that came into the bookstore after Joseph had arrived... or if there was a small chance he was still in the bookstore and was just looking around at the books on the shelf, but looking at the display windows and not seeing the vehicle that belonged to Joseph wasn't in the parking spot confirmed to you that the boy you loved wasn't here.

The past 4 seasons of Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring have changed your relationship with Joseph for the better and for the worse... and while you wish you could turn things around to make it alright, you know that whatever is left of your relationship with Joseph will never be the same as it once was before that night in December, where you left a boy heartbroken on your front porch with roses that were left to die.

Author's Note:

i know that not everyone is a fan of angst, but the angst fanfiction genre is what i live for and i hope you give this story a chance (maybe in the future there will be a sequel, but i’m not planning on writing a sequel anytime soon)... i do promise i'll have more "fluff” fanfiction content in the future.

(also about a week ago i accidentally published this fanfiction, it was only posted for about a minute so i don’t think anyone saw it before i deleted it but the thought of people reading the story before it was finished terrified me, Tumblr needs to move the edit button and not have it so close to the post button because this might not be the last time that i would accidentally publish a fanfiction that wasn’t ready to be posted. thank you apple for allowing the update to copy text from images or else i would’ve had to re-write the entire story from beginning to end!)

thank you for all the love and support 🤍

#Joe Burrow #NFL #CFB #Cincinnati Bengals #LSU Tigers #Joe Burrow Fanfiction #Joe Burrow Fanfic #Joe Burrow Fic #Joe Burrow x OC #Joe Burrow Imagine #Joe Burrow x Y/N #Joe Burrow x Reader #Joe Burrow OneShot #NFL Fanfiction #Spotify

[pinkroseblooms]

Hippity-Hop into Your Heart

Summary: Usahara is all too happy to play the role of boyfriend so you can shake off a creep, but of course, the night ends with him developing an all too real crush. 4.1 k A/N: Art from Gaku Kaze! Usahara Tobikichi/F!Reader. I have a soft spot for this dumb bunny and I think he needs more love. Enjoy! TW: Stalking, cursing (mostly for reader getting called a b*tch by said stalker).

Usahara’s drunk. Again. 

The night has hardly begun and he keeps slumping over the table, cheeks flushed and eyes bleary while he struggles to sit upright. “I wish I was funny.”

“I wish you were sober.” Uramichi slides another glass of water, moving aside the collection of empty shot glasses. “I thought we were only doing beer.”

“We should order motsu nikomi for him.” Kumatani suggests; he’s only on his third beer. 

They did start a bit later than expected for a weeknight. There’s hardly anyone else at the tables around them; hopefully Usahara doesn’t end up getting them kicked out for disturbing the peace. A server comes around with their next round of beers and Kumatani speaks up to request more water while they look over their options for food.

“I want gyoza!” Usahara slurs. “And a girlfriend. Ugh. I really want a girlfriend.” 

“You can have one of those things.” Kumatani glances at the paper menu. “Seeing as how gyoza’s on the menu and you’re a degenerate, let’s keep this based in reality.”

“I’m not a general!”

“Let’s leave him here.” Uramichi whispers, leaning over to Kumatani on his left. “He’ll pass out soon enough.”

“I’m drunk, not deaf.” Usahara grumbles; he sighs and sheds his jacket. “It’s hot. Can we get ice cream?”

“Why do you drink so much when you know you can’t handle booze?” Kumatani rests his chin on his hand. “If you think I’m paying your tab, you’ve got another thing-”

“Honey! There you are, sorry I’m late, I was stuck at the office.”

Usahara raises his head up; there’s a girl sliding into the booth seat next to him. For a split second, he thinks he might be having a hallucination, but you scoot closer and touch his arm with a strained smile. Not to mention Uramichi and Kumatani are also staring at him and you, visibly taken aback at this stranger joining their table, so Usahara is 100% positive the alcohol isn’t making him see things.

“I’m sorry.” You’re leaning in to whisper in his ear, still smiling but now your voice is considerably less cheerful. “A man’s been following me since I left my job.”

“What?” Usahara straightens up and stares at you, bewildered, trying to keep his tone low. “Did he come in?”

“He followed every time I changed directions.” You pretend to look at Uramichi and Kumatani but you’re actually sneaking a peek at the entrance. “He’s outside in the smoking area. I think he’s waiting.”

Usahara glances at the door; there is a man outside. It’s not easy to make his features out, but he can see him turn his head to look into the bar. 

“I’m sorry to intrude.” You drop your fake smile. “This place is the closest building with people and I thought he would keep following me if I sat down by myself. Could I wait here until he leaves? I’ll pay for your next round.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Uramichi frowns. “Do you want to call the police?”

“No, I mean, what could they do?” You release your grip on Usahara’s arm and give him some space. “He could just say he’s going the same way as me. I just didn’t want him to know where I live.”

“I’m going out there.” Kumatani stands up. 

“Oh please don’t!” You say hurriedly. “You really don’t have to get involved.”

“Scum like that need to have their asses kicked before they get the message. He looks weak.” Kumatani glares over at the door. “I’m not gonna be intimidated by some gross stalker.”

“But he could have a knife.” You say worriedly. “Even if he doesn’t, you’ll get in trouble for making things physical. Please, um…”

“Kumatani.” Usahara supplies. “He’s Kumatani, I’m Usahara, and that sad sack over there is Uramichi-”

“Kumantani, let’s use this drunk as a human shield.” Uramichi addresses the still standing Kumatani but his cold eyes are directly on Usahara’s. “If the creep has a knife, you’ll do your part as a concerned citizen, right?”

You glance around at the three of them. “Look, I already feel bad to bother you guys. I can get a ride; I doubt he’ll chase after a car, you know? I just,” you swallow hard; the last thing you want to do is start crying, not now in front of these strangers you had basically forced to be involved in this. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, okay?”

“Alright.” Kumatani finally takes his seat. “You’ve got a good point.”

“You must have been scared.” Uramichi looks at you with some sympathy. “I’m not eager to do any heroics myself and I don’t blame you for not wanting to stir the pot. How far away is your work?”

“About ten minutes. I work for a family, well, a few different families in the area.” You explain; your teeth have stopped chattering and your heart has stopped pounding. “I actually do babysitting and cleaning jobs. Today the parents went out for a date: they offered to drive me home, but they had a few drinks at dinner and I didn’t want to spend money on a ride share app when my place is so close. I actually come here every now and then to wind down after work…I didn’t think I’d be coming in tonight to escape that asshole.”

“Uh, so,"  Usahara clears his throat. “Why did you sit next to me? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Dude.”

“Are you serious?”

“What?” Usahara holds up his hands as if to block himself from the death glares being shot his way. “Just curious!”

“The seat next to you was empty.” You answer honestly. “Why else would I?”

“Because I’m…cute?” Usahara grins but it fades as you raise an eyebrow at him. “Sorry. Okay, no more joking: are you hungry? You might as well eat something, my treat.”

“I thought you were broke?” Kumatani snips. “I told you, I’m not covering your tab.” he turns to you. “Order what you want.”

“Ice cold.” Usahara crosses his arms. “I just so happen to have some extra funds. I helped my folks in their store earlier, so they floated me a few bucks.” he winks at you. “Since I’m playing your boyfriend, I should treat my girl to something nice.”

“You made your poor parents pay you for helping them?” Uramichi shakes his head somberly. “I didn’t think you could sink lower.”

“They insisted! I’m not gonna turn down money in this economy.”

“Don’t blame the economy for your piss poor spending habits.”

“They’re so mean.” Usahara pouts to you. “Aren’t you going to stand up for your boyfriend?”

You look at him for a moment before your face breaks out into a smile, a real one. Before you can stop, a laugh escapes you and you keep laughing until you start wheezing slightly. 

“Wow, I think you broke her psyche.” Uramichi comments lightly. 

“I’m so-sorry, really, I don’t mean to laugh at you!” Your voice cracks as you press your hands to your mouth. “Usahara? I’m sorry, you’ve all been so great to help me out.”

“I’m glad.” Usahara smiles bashfully, rubbing the back of his head; he realizes he must seem hilariously pathetic, but hey, it’s not like this is a real date. “If you’re laughing, it means you’re feeling better, yeah?”

Your giggles die off and you wipe your eyes. “I am.” with a deep sigh, you’re able to calm down and breathe normally. “I was really scared. Thank you. I feel better mostly.”

“You need a good laugh, I’m your guy.” Usahara hands you his untouched glass of water. “Here, it’s just plain water. Do you want a beer or something?”

“You know what? I could use a drink.” You confess tiredly. “So, what brings you guys here?”

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

Nearly two hours pass in the blink of an eye; Usahara plays his role well. He pours you drinks, stays close, but not too close to you, and even hand fed you a couple of snacks. To the casual observer, the four of you would never know you were all strangers.

Despite the cordial mood, Usahara kept up the charade, just in case the man outside was still lurking around, though they haven’t seen his profile in the window for some time now. It’s an unfortunate truth that some men will only back off if they know a girl already has a boyfriend who can potentially beat them up. Usahara, although not quite as intimidating looking in comparison to his friends, is the tallest and he does spend a good amount of time training on his own. He’s confident that if nothing else, all three of them are more than enough to take down one shady weirdo. 

It’s too bad though. Usahara can't smother the twinge of bit guilt he feels at how much fun he’s having; there’s no need for him to put up a front or try to play it cool since this is very much not a date. There’s no pressure to look good in front of you, so Usahara can relax and not think about what he says too much or how he holds himself. 

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s awesome!” You tell him excitedly, hands grabbing onto his arm as if to shake sense into him. “An absolute classic, how the heck have you never heard of Killer Clowns from Another Dimension? Do you even watch movies?”

“Sometimes” Usahara sips a new glass of water you made him order. “I can’t believe you’re judging me.”

“I saw it.” Kumatani raises his hand. “The effects are next level.”

“A man of culture.” You give him a thumbs up. “This guy knows. Uramichi, make Usahara apologize.”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Uramichi drones. “I don’t get what any of you are saying.”

“Now who needs to watch more movies.” 

“I saw one recently.” Uramichi cocks his head to the side. “It was a comedy; some idiot didn’t know when to stop running his mouth so his co worker buries him alive.”

“That’s a horror movie! If I go missing, you’re gonna be the first one the cops talk to.” Usahara clings to your arm. “Babe, tell him to leave me alone.”

“If you coddle him, he’ll never learn to shut his trap.”

“There, there, honey bunny.” You pat Usahara’s head lightly. “I promise to light a candle for you until they find the body.”

“You won’t even look for me?!”

“I think it’s more likely you’ll be disposed of by some loan sharks.” Kumatani deadpans but even he has a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Keep up the gambling and you’ll be found in a river instead of a shallow grave.”

“You guys are terrible and when I hit the jackpot none of you are seeing a cent.” Usahara tells them before leaning his head on your shoulder, sticking his tongue out at the both of them. “She’s been way nice to me and we only just met.”

“Because she doesn’t know how insufferable you are yet.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” You glance down at Usahara as he gives you puppy eyes. “He’s doing a pretty good job of letting me know.”

“Babe, not cool.” 

“Sorry, honey.” You giggle and poke his flushed cheek; it’s funny how comfortable you feel right now and you don’t think it’s because of the beers. Maybe it’s because Usahara has no filter; you were so tense before, yet now you’re joking and chatting like this was the plan, to show up and hang out with these odd characters. “So, what would you do if you won the lottery?”

“Hm…”

“You should pay your rent on time.” Uramichi remarks; he’s eating his own plate of mackerel, sashimi style. “It would be nice to never have to get up for work again.”

“I want to take time off and buy a boat.” Kumatani closes his eyes. “Just floating out to sea, nice and quiet, fresh saltwater air.”

“Lame.”

“Usahara.” You smack his shoulder lightly. “Knock it off.”

“Hey why are you defending that jerk?” 

“This jerk is going to leave you to pay for all our food and drinks if you keep running your mouth.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” You shake your head somberly in disapproval as Usahara sulks. “Apologize or you’re sleeping on the couch, mister.”

“You sound more like a naggy wife than a cute girlfriend…”

“What’s that?”

“Sorry.” Usahara bows his head. “Sorry, Kumatani.”

“Good one.” Kumantani reaches over to refill your glass with a fresh pour of beer. “I’ll lend you the Man-Eating Salmon boxset if you can keep him quiet for the rest of the night.”

Usahara sips his water as you grin at Kumatani; oh well. He gets it. On paper, Kumatani makes sense: even he admits, it was pretty cool how Kumatani was going to go out there and take on that creep head on. It’s not Usahara’s style; he’s scared to get beat up and can barely throw a punch. Sue him. Still, it stings that even on this pretend date, Kumatani is still showing him up. 

“Hey guys?” It’s Uramichi that breaks the silence. “I think that creep got tired of waiting.”

They all look to the door; it’s not clear at first, but from your shaken expression, it’s apparent the man who’s made his way inside the bar is the same one who was stalking you. The smile is gone from your face; he’s approaching the table with an almost apologetic smile. He looks like a fairly normal person, to Usahara’s slight surprise, not like a thug or anything. Hell, he looks more intimidating. 

“Sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to get your number?” 

“What?” You sink into your seat. “That’s why you followed me?”

“Followed? I didn’t do anything like that.” The man looks surprised. “I go here all the time. I just saw you, thought I’d shoot my shot, you know? Besides, I don’t need anyone’s permission to come inside and have a drink-”

“Excuse me, but we’re trying to have dinner.” Usahara stares at the man blankly. “We saw you out there. If you just came to eat here coincidentally, why were you lurking outside?”

“I wasn’t-”

“Cut the bullshit.” Kumatani glares at the man, grip tightening on his mug like he wants to smash it against the offending stranger’s head. “Get the hint already, asshole.”

“You’re making everyone uncomfortable.” A dark look crosses Uramichi’s face; he’s poised as though he’s about to rise from his chair. “I think you ought to leave. She’s not interested.”

“Let her tell me herself-”

“She shouldn’t have to talk to some freak hounding her in the dark.” Usahara takes his jacket and drapes it over your shaking shoulders; he puts his arm around you. “You’re bothering my girlfriend; who do you think you are? She doesn’t owe you shit.” he forces himself to temper his anger and speaks to you gently. “Don’t feel like you have to say anything, okay babe? You haven’t done anything; it’s not your fault this loser is bugging you.”

“Fuck you.” The man snaps, posture rigid; he’s shaking, but he doesn’t move any closer. “I didn’t do anything, this bitch-”

“Don’t call her that!” Usahara stands up, but doesn’t try to attack the man; he stands in front of you, arms out slightly to obscure you from the stranger’s eyes. “You can either get your ass handed to you by my buddies-”

“Really? What are we, you bodyguards?”

Usahara ignores Kumantani’s dry stare. “-or leave in handcuffs.” he makes sure you’re blocked from view. “Your choice.”

“Go to hell.” 

But the confrontation ends there. With a sneer, the man storms out of the bar, rather quickly in fact; one of the staff members comes out from behind the counter with a concerned frown and asks if she needs to call the cops. Kumatani explains the situation and Uramichi actually goes himself to check if the man is just hiding around the corner of the bar. Usahara stays with you; despite how relieved you are, tears come to your eyes, dripping down your face.

“It’s okay.” Usahara hands you some napkins. “Do you need these?”

“Thank you.” You sniff and blow your nose into the offered napkins, but the tears aren’t stopping. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t even tell that asshole off, it was like I couldn’t even speak. I feel so dumb for being scared.”

“Not gonna lie, I was kinda scared too; Uramichi still has him beat in the dead eyed stare competition though.” Usahara chuckles; he tentatively holds one of your hands; your palm is clammy and your fingers are cold. “Sorry you had to go through that. I really thought he had left; I think the owner’s gonna call the cops anyway, dude seemed unhinged.”

“Oh, your jacket,”

“You can hold onto it. Your hand’s freezing.” Usahara ignores the slight chill he feels as you squeeze his hand. “You want me to get you a hot tea or something? Sorry, I have no clue what to do for these kinds of situations.”

“You’ve done more than enough.” You smile at him; your cheeks and eyes are red and puffy. “Thank you; the only reason I was able to feel okay at all is because of you guys being so kind. I’m so sorry for all this.”

Usahara feels bad for your gratitude; he’s also angry. He’s half tempted to go outside himself and chase after that creep, but more than that, he could cry himself from how sad you look, how you actually felt like you had to apologize for someone else's horrible actions.

“Don’t apologize. Hell, I didn’t do anything.” Usahara has to stop himself from trapping you in a big bear (bunny?) hug. “Look, do you want one of us to take you home? It’s past midnight and sometimes you get creepy drivers on that app if you request a ride this late at night.” Usahara averts his eyes to the table, trying to sound assuring despite the pit forming in his stomach. “Kumatani seems grumpy, but you won’t find anyone more reliable and Uramichi is a decent guy, even if he mopes a lot. They’ll keep you safe on your way home.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

You look nervous. “I trust you…of course, you’ve already helped me so much. I can walk home alone, I’ll pretend to be on the phone.”

“No, not at all!” Usahara scrambles to talk. “I’d be totally okay walking you home! Just leave it to Tobikichi Usahara, you won’t have anything to worry about!”

“Are you trying a stand up routine?” Uramichi reenters the booth, unmoved by Usahara’s objections. “Anyway, I think he’s really gone this time, but the owner’s still going to call the police and have them take a look around. I guess this isn’t the first time they’ve had a problem, she’s pretty sure it’s the same guy too. With any luck, he won’t be bothering anyone again.”

“I hope so.” You wipe your eyes. “Thank you, Uramichi; where’s Kumatani?”

“Settling your tab.”

“What?!” You gap at him, almost expecting this to be a joke. “That’s way too much, I was going to pay for you guys-”

“Give it a rest.”

“Uramichi!” Usahara is scandalized. “This is why girls don’t talk to you.Would it kill you to show a little tact? She's upset.”

“Are you seriously telling me that? Who asked you anyway? Look, I’m just saying, it’s no trouble.” Uramichi’s eyes soften a smidge as he looks at you. “Don’t get me wrong, I really hope this never happens again, but tonight was almost fun.”

Kumatani approaches the table, tucking away what you assume is a receipt in his wallet. “Let’s finish up and call it a night: Usahara, you owe me half the tab.”

“Saw that coming.” Usahara shrugs and manages a weak smile. “Fair enough; but I’m only paying for her and my stuff.”

“Okay.” Kumatani chuckles. “I expected you to put up a fuss like usual. We should invite your girlfriend out every time we get drinks.”

“Dude!” Usahara’s already flushed face turns bright red. “Jokes on you, I’m never inviting you guys out with us.” he sends you a lopsided grin. “If I win the jackpot, it’ll be dinner for two, wherever you want to eat.”

“Actually,” You fiddle with the sleeve of his jacket. “I was hoping we could all do this again sometime; you know, without the looming threat of being stalked. Is that weird?”

“You want to put up with us again?” Kumatani asks, but you can tell he’s mostly teasing. 

“I guess.” Uramichi concedes. “It’s nice to have a buffer.”

“Buffer? What, so you can ignore me and get drunk in peace?” Usahara sighs dramatically. “Well, that’s fine with me; having another person around makes your mood swings less stressful-ow, ow, ow! I’m sorry, I give up, you’re not moody!”

Uramichi stops grinding his fists on either side of Usahara’s temples. “Just take her home already and try not to fall over in the street.”

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

“So, that’s us.” Usahara laughs somewhat embarrassed. “Did you really have fun tonight?”

“Yeah.” You say honestly; you’re leading the way to your apartment, walking slow. “You’re looking pale; do you always drink that much?”

“....yeah…” Usahara admits reluctantly. “I know, I know, I’m a mess.”

“Without a doubt.” 

“So mean…”

“But you’re very nice.” You offer him with a half smile. “And brave.”

“Me?”

“Uh huh.”

Usahara stares at you from the corner of his eye; the street lights overhead shine a dim glow on your hair and face. You’re still wearing his smelly old jacket, a grease stain on the front from dropping fried chicken on himself the other day. It looks better on you.

“Uh oh.” Usahara could slap himself. “Dude, not cool. She’s been through enough tonight. You were pretending so she could feel safe. It’s not like she actually wants to date you. Don’t let yourself get caught up in the moment. She’s a nice girl who needed your help and as it stands, she doesn’t think you’re a complete loser. Let’s keep it that way and call this a win.”

“This is me.” You come to a stop in front of a complex Usahara has gone past quite a few times before. “I’d invite you in for tea, but I should be going to bed. Can I give you my number? If you want to hang out again sometime.”

“Sure thing.” Usahara switches phones with you. “Call, text, whatever; let me know when you’re free.”

“I’ll do that.” You nod and hand him back his cellphone. “Wait, don’t go yet.”

Usahara was about to leave. “Is everything alright? I can wait until you get inside to-”

“You’re sweet.” You take off his jacket, putting it around his shoulders; you peck his jaw, not quite able to reach his cheek. “Next time, maybe we can go on a real date?”

“Am I passed out at the bar?” Usahara touches the spot where you had pressed your soft lips against his skin. “Sorry, let me get this straight: you want to see me again? Me, Usahara, specifically? For a date? Like a ‘date-date’?” he frowns, examines your face carefully. “Are you drunk? I don’t want to take advantage, I mean, you might have second thoughts later, which is totally okay, I-I don’t mind just being friends-!”

“I am a bit tipsy, but I don’t think that’s affecting anything.” You smile a little. “Maybe you should text me first thing in the morning? Just to make sure.”

“I’ll probably be super hungover.” Usahara looks at you like you’re too good to be real. “I usually go to this breakfast place, if you’re interested. It’s a cheap spot but the food’s good. Sorry, I-”

“Are you treating?”

“Yes! And I’ll pick you up?” Usahara is on pins and needles, utterly failing to reign in his excitement. “I have a spare helmet, if you don’t mind riding on a motorcycle. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“It’s a date.” You start to walk away. “Tell the guys I said thank you, again. Do you think they’ll want to get breakfast too?”

“NO!” Usahara hates how his voice pitches so high in panic; he looks down at the ground, a little ashamed of himself, but not enough to be unselfish. He really is shameless. “At least for this time, I want it to be just us. You can see for yourself if I’m worth your time; I swear, you won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m holding you to that.” You smile playfully. “Honey bunny.”

Usahara blushes so much he thinks his face might be on fire, waving in a daze as you disappear into your apartment. 

“Oh crap." It almost hurts how hard Usahara's smiling as he thinks about seeing you again. "I'm so screwed.”

#usahara tobikichi #usahara tobikichi x reader #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #ao3 fanfic #uramichi oniisan #life lessons with uramichi oniisan #big brother uramichi #uramichi omota #kumatani mitsuo #fluff #slight angst #one shot #meet cute

[sugarcherriess]

For event: Younghoon + “cold boy who only shows emotion to you because he’s obsessed” trope + smut

I’m down bad for this man and my period does not help 😭

- 🍞

Periods may come and go but the downbad-ry for Younghoon is forever

Cold Boy Only Warm To You with Younghoon:

cw - smut, mentions of vioelnce, obsessive behaviour, yh is a little too possessive like borderline toxic but its hoonie and its fiction so he is allowed that license.

Younghoon seems like the perfect laid off bf that everyone wishes they had to an outsider

But the people you hang out with know the reality

However.

He’s pretty much willing to ignore the existence of others

Until someone just so much as lays their eyes on you

Doesn’t matter if it’s just an accidental glance

Or maybe they were walking by so they smiled at you

Younghoon really doesn’t care for all these explanations

Especially when he’s too preoccupied by their audacity to stare at his darling

He was attached to your hip all throughout highschool like this

Sometimes your classmates had to talk to him instead of you because he wouldn’t let them reach you

And then you wouldn’t understand why your friends called you two a giant and his princess

“It’s because he guards you like a giant guards its treasure in fairytales,” they’d tell you

But you’d never notice

Because he never directed this behaviour towards you

For you Younghoon was a whole ass marshmallow

Giggling at your jokes

Cuddling with you like a bear no matter the place or time

Getting you everything you need as soon as the words leave your mouth

You were completely oblivious to the hard glares he sent people over your shoulder

How many fights he got into just because someone said your name wrong

And him threatening the students to never approach you romantically or he’ll cut off their genitalia????

YOUR YOUNGHOON?

He would never!

(He would and he did)

(It wouldn’t be far fetched to say he probably also did it once to set an example)

(The entire student body calls him the dragon because with you he’s a puppy but he’s burning everything else in the world)

This is why no person ever approached you unless it was to discuss schoolwork

Because they knew what the consequences will be otherwise

So imagine his surprise when he shows up to your college a few weeks after you enrolled and moved away

And sees you exiting the gates

With a dude hot on your tail

Holding a flower

Your favourite flower

His bright mood would instantly sour

He came to surprise you and even brought sweets and flowers

This was the first time you both were separated for more than a few hours

So he planned a whole elaborate night of pampering you

But now he had other concerns

Like why you were giggling with that same dude so much

Had you replaced him?

When he approaches you, you scream in surprise

And throw yourself in his arms to hug and kiss him because!!! “Hoonie!!! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming!!!!”

And your *cough* sweet, patient hoonie *cough* gives you the biggest smile he could provide at the moment

“I thought I’d surprise my sweetheart but I guess you have… other things… to attend to,”

He’d pointedly look the other student up and down

“I was just asking y/n to go get coffee with me,”

The boy would have the absolute audacity to say to his face

When his eyes are shooting meteors in his skull

“Perhaps it would be better if I push your head down a sewer hole and you spend your evening there?”

“Excuse me-”

He would leave your embrace to grab the the dude’s collar,

Younghoon’s clearly tall and steady stature towering over him

“She’s not open for the taking you lowlife pest. It will be in your own good will to leave before I cave your head in,”

You’d sober up from excitement real quick too

And then you’d drag Younghoon away

And tell the other dude to leave

He’d be seething and this is the first time you’re seeing him like this so you have no idea where it’s coming from

Once inside your dorm, with the adrenaline drained, you would start getting cold with fear about what just happened

“Hoonie, calm down–“

But he’s fuming and pacing your livingroom

“Why didn’t you tell me people were trying to court you?”

“Because I didn’t find it worth wasting our limited time on the phone over,”

“How long has this been going on? How long have people been trying to steal you from me? I leave you alone for three weeks. Three! And people start squealing at your door like wild pigs!”

You’d actually be stunned at his anger

For you it would truly not be that big of a deal

“Younghoon, no one would ever steal me from you,”

You’d assure him with your body language dripping sincerity

Then there would be a whole 180 degree spin in his mood

He’d cup your face and kiss you hard and desperate

“You’re mine. No one else is allowed to be near you,”

Would be whispered against your lips

His eyes would gloss over with fear and anger but also adoration

Because no matter what happened he’s here, standing in front of his darling

“Baby I’m so sorry– I’m sorry you had to see that,”

“Younghoon–”

“I shouldn’t have done that. You just started college and I almost did something to embarrass you in front of everyone–”

You’d press your mouth to his in a quick kiss to shut him up

“It’s fine, Hoonie,” you’d reassure, “I’m just so happy you came,”

“Of course,”

And then the smile you’re so familiar with would return

“I missed you so much,”

He’d circle his arms around you and carry you to the next available surface

Which would happen to be a couch put in the middle of the room haphazardly

‘I’ll fix the place tomorrow’ being your mantra since you came

Nevertheless

No setting matters anyway

Not when Younghoon’s caging you between the throw pillows on the couch and his own body

This is the position that makes you really realise how big your Hoonie is

All in height, shoulders and… his cock

He’s got you folded in half

His hands holding your arms above your head so your tits can perk up

And get in his eager mouth’s perfect line of contact

You’d be praising the gods that your roommate is only gonna show up next month

Because the amount of screams and extra loud whimpers are getting punched out of you

You couldn’t hold them back even if you tried

Younghoon would worship your body like he’s the sole patron at your alter

(Which he is)

(But you’re so perfect)

(Obviously everyone else worships you as well)

(Even though they’re not allowed to in the way he is right now)

With his mouth enclosed around a nipple

His teeth nibbling around the erect nub

One of his hand’s is shoved between you two

Rubbing your clit parallel to his thrusts inside you

He’s left so many marks on you that nobody would even dare approach you now

Not that they would regardless, because of the display of possession he showed earlier

You’d wrap your legs around his waist and push him even more into you

“Hoonie, hoonie, hoonie,” being the only comprehensible words you speak besides crying for him like a cockslut

Younghoon would giggle at your cock hungry enthusiasm

Once he helps you reach your orgasm with all his attention

Since he “loves to watch you babble with your eyes crossed and hands desperately reaching for me,”

He would sit on the couch and push your fucked out self onto the floor

You don’t need to be in your senses to open your mouth like a well trained little girl, ready to swallow his seed

Which your Hoonie would bless you with in only a few seconds

Some would definitely get outside your open mouth

And on your cheeks and nose

But Hoonie would clean you up so well

Not without taking a few lewd photos of your messy face ofc!

#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Adonis Speaks #˚₊·➴ My Lovely 🍞 #Younghoon smut #the boyz smut #Younghoon scenarios #the boyz scenarios #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #the boyz hard hours #younghoon hard hours #tbz hard hours

[brineffxiv]

A bunny is watching me.

He is Growingway, he wants to show me the domiciles. That sounds fun and not stressful.

Unfortunately, the teleporter has been re-routed...

I am teleported conveniently close to where Urianger is having a private meeting with Livingway and her associates. Time to eavesdrop!

Livingway can tell that the Loporrits' efforts have failed to meet our expectations, and while this is disappointing, what is frustrating is that we're being too polite to tell them exactly what is wrong and why. She takes her responsibilities very seriously.

And here is the sobering reality. It's easy to forget how dire the situation is, with how cute the Loporrits are, and how earnest their efforts. But the Final Days are here. There is no time to abide by social graces. The Loporrits need correct information now. We don't have the luxury of our "preferred" foods or clothes. Thought the Loporrits will make things as comfortable for us as possible, this is about saving as many lives as possible.

Livingway wants Urianger to work with their collaborators to help prepare everyone for the migration. She's come to him because he's the only one who has not been wholly unsatisfied with the Loporrits' efforts and because she senses he's the kind of person who understands about the greater good. Now that he's seen all the moon has to offer, she hopes he can use the first-hand knowledge to assist.

Before I can hear Urianger's answer, I am found again by Growingway. He offers to take me for a walk through Greatest Endsvale by way of an apology for teleporting me off course. Greatest Endsvale is a "forest" made entirely of artificial "trees" and crystalline structures. At least it's got a water feature? Hey, Growingway, I don't suppose you can explain why all your robots keep attacking me? Y'know, one of the passengers you're supposed to be protecting?

Growingway tells me more about the Loporrits' history and how they came to be in contact with their collaborators. I also get a better idea of the timeframe we're talking about here. While they have only relatively recently become in contact with their collaborators, the Loporrits have been working towards their goals here on the moon for twelve thousand years.

Y'shtola and Thancred find me, and we are shortly joined by Livingway with Urianger in tow. Livingway has come to take Growingway away to an emergency meeting.

After the bunnies leave I fill my friends in on everything I've learned, and we commiserate over how difficult we expect it will be to convince people to relocate to the moon, especially when there are as-yet no signs of the Final Days occurring. (I dunno guys, we haven't been back to the ground since Zodiark met His end, how do we know shit hasn't hit the fan in our absence?)

Urianger begs his leave to attend to some unnamed task, and declines our offer of assistance when we offer it. We find this rather suspicious, so I decide to tail him.

He heads outside, and I follow.

When I catch up with him, it turns out he is pleased to see me.

Urianger is conflicted. He's distressed that his capacity for subterfuge and duplicity is so readily apparent that he keeps finding himself in situations where he is asked to do something behind the backs of others. And he can't help reflecting on the other times he has found himself on this path. He mourns for the friends we have lost, and can't help feeling responsible for those he had an influence in, particularly Minfilia and Moenbryda. It weighs heavy on him, the inability to save everyone he cares about.

This is a really beautiful scene. I wish the game would let me give Urianger a hug. I love him very much.

He is considering the Loporrits proposal, seeing that there is much to benefit from having a more open dialogue with them. But if he chooses to do so, he will be doing it openly and on the Scions behalf.

Hehehe... The Loporrits are spying, but can't hear what we're saying. Regardless, Livingway has a plan.

While assisting Urianger create a gift of ink for the Loporrits, we are approached by Livingway, who sets about separating the two of us on opposite tasks. I am unsure whether it is I or Urianger who is being gotten out of the way, but I am on my guard.

As expected, Y'shtola did not call for me. She and Thancred are being given the run-around by Growingway over purported knowledge of the Final Days.

When we finally get fed up and confront Growingway about it, he confesses the plan: keep us locked up here while Livingway takes Urianger to work with their collaborators. They fear we won't cooperate with being evacuated to the moon, and will put the plan at risk in a futile attempt to save our star and its reflections.

Oh no. They're going to make me fight the bunnies. I don't want to hurt them!

Outside, Urianger has gently confronted the Loporrits over what they're doing, and waves us back when we come to his "rescue."

Poor little Loporrits. All they want is to please and to help. They were born of love, and feel it keenly. They are doing their best, but what they really need is someone to help them.

Urianger will be that person for them. He will stay behind on the moon and assist the Loporrits in making their preparations, learning more about the people they want to save, and about themselves. It is reassuring to know he will be here, helping them, that if worst should come to worst we will be in good hands.

Meanwhile, the rest of us will return to Etheirys and attempt to find the answers behind the Final Days.

My flower is glowing a lovely orange-red, and it catches the eye of the Watcher, who has snuck up on us unnoticed. Lol, a great feat for someone of his height.

I really like the Watcher. I'm not sure if that's because I really like him, or if it's because he reminds me of Hythlodaeus, and I adore Hythlodaeus.

The flower is called an Elpis!!!

I know this name! "Elpis" is a place the hunt trains start at! I see it in the party finder and my linkshell sometimes!

It's one of the locations behind the "???" on my maps! Oh! I'm excited!! Do I get to go find more ancient ruins like those of Amaurot? Am I going back to the First?

Ahaha! The Loporrits' collaborators are the Sharlayan forum! That's hilarious. Do they even know they're talking to space bunnies? It makes sense though, of course the forum thinks they would know first if the world was ending: the Loporrits would tell them to prepare to evacuate! But I wonder... Do they know why? Do they know about Zodiark and Hydaelyn? About the ancients? How much did Hydaelyn tell them? Somehow I suspect it was the bare minimum and they're going to be in for a nasty shock.

...And that seems to conclude my adventures on the moon? Compared to Garlemald that was surprisingly short.

#ffxiv liveblog #rhesh'a tag #loporrits #growingway #livingway #urianger augurelt #thancred waters #y'shtola rhul

[plentyoffandoms]

Day 10 🎃 Drunk Sex/Spanking

Eddie Kingston x f/Reader (18+)

Requested by @maeleelee

Warnings: Some swearing. Descriptive sexual acts. Minors do not read. Unprotected sex. NSFW under the cut

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Gifs and photos do not belong to me.

I hope you like it.

Eddie Kingston's POV:

Seeing my girl like this always gets me going. YN has a very high stress job and when I can get her relaxed like this, it is pure pleasure.

I was able to convince her to go out tonight to the bar with a few friends of mine.

"But Eddie, I have so much work I have to do." She was looking at the pile of paperwork that she brought home with her.

"Baby, it is the weekend. Time to relax. Come out with me and the guys. They won't mind you coming along."

Even if they did, they can shut the fuck up because I want my girl to relax and I know getting her out of the house is the best possible way for her to do that. .

And now I am on my way to a nice buzz as I sip my own beer, watching as YN is at the jukebox, her hips swaying back and forth as she is trying to pick a song.

Someone was saying something to me, but I just waved off my friend, drank what was left in the bottle and walked towards YN.

I wrapped my arms around YN's waist and she tensed up at first, then relaxed when I muttered her name.

"Having a good time?" I asked her as I nipped her ear. She let out a low moan and titled her head more to the side as I kissed my way down her neck.

Sober YN would not be doing this as she knows that my photo could be taken at any moment and she does not wish for me to have any type of scandal, but buzzed almost drunk YN, that is a whole different story.

She pushed her ass against the front of my jeans and I groaned as she rubbed against me.

"Having a great time now that you are here." She giggled. I love this giggle. Always sounds so innocent and sweet, but I know she is horny and that the poor Uber Driver may get a show on the way home tonight.

"Behave YN." I turned her head slightly so I can see into her eyes. I could see the pout on her lips.

"I am behaving." She stomped her foot. I could see out of the corner of my eye people looking at her and her behaviour.

The grip I had her waist got tighter and I knew she felt it. "I said behave." I warned. This is number two.

She knows what happens when I have to repeat myself three times and I have a feeling that she is in enough of a bratty mood that may just happen.

"Make me." She slowly said to me.

~

"I told you to behave yourself, but you just had to go and misbehave didn't yeah?" I groaned out through gritted teeth as my hand made contact with her ass cheeks.

YN had tears streaming down her face from what I was doing. I knew she would have a hard time sitting on her ass after this, but that thought was pushed to the back of mind as slapped it twice more.

I have her over my lap, completely naked from the waist down.

"Eddie." She cried out as I slapped her ass again. "I'm sorry."

"Mm, too late love. You know what happens." I had a sick grin come over my face as I slapped her sore ass again.

"Ride me." I said to her as I helped her off of me. I laid down with my arms under my head and watched my girl clumsy climb on top of me.

"The other way baby. I want to see your ass bounce." I groaned to myself when I saw her listen to me and turned so she was facing away from me.

I gripped my cock and held her waist to help my tipsy girl sit on me, moaning at the feeling of finally being inside her after being turned on for most of the night.

The two of us moaning at the feeling of me stretching her out. I ran my hand up and down and her spine and she shivered slightly.

She sat there, not moving. I looked around her to look at the full length mirror that is so placed in front of our bed.

YN's eyes are close and she is squeezing and playing with her breasts. I watched as her eyes flung open when I slapped her ass to bring her back to reality.

"I said ride me." The sentence was barely out of my mouth as she slowly started to ride me. "Feel good Eddie." YN moaned.

"Shit YN, you feel good. Pussy so tight, so perfect for me." I groaned as I felt her clench around me.

YN rode me for a bit, completely lost in the pleasure. Moaning incoherent things that I can only catch bits and pieces of. "So big. Fuck me so good. Eddie." Was the gist of it.

"Need you to go faster baby." I moaned.

"No." And she actually slowed down. This is killing me. I wasn't in the mood to deal with this anymore.

I sat up and quickly pushed her face first into the mattress and I pounded into her from behind.

The only sounds in the room were her screams, my hand making contact with her ass and my hips slamming into her.

I laid across her back, never once letting up the brutal pace I have set, and forced her to look into the mirror. My face next to hers so I can the mirror clearly.

"Look what happens when you don't listen huh. Like being treated like my whore? My little slut?"

I would never be saying this to her if we were completely sober but I watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she scream my name.

I felt her cum all over my cock and I couldn't hold it back anymore. I groaned her name loudly as I came deep inside her.

My own eyes were half closed as I enjoyed finishing inside of her.

"Good girl YN." I slapped her ass once more and pulled out of her.

"Eddie I'm sore."

"And you will be even more so. I'm not done with you YN."

Taglist: please let me know if you would like to be added to the Kinktober tag list. @lghockey @wwenhlimagines @alexisquinnlee-bc @hooks-martin @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @thenerdybaker523 @sistergurl-x716

#aew #all elite wrestling #reader imagine #female reader #reader insert #plentyoffandoms kinktober #eddie kingston x you #eddie kingston x reader #eddie kingston fanfiction #eddie kingston imagine #eddie kingston smut #eddie kingston x female reader #eddie kingston x reader smut #eddie kingston

[opineonion]

Chae Yul: He had it coming... Or did he?

Warning: mild spoilers, disorganized thoughts, a bit of a rant-ish, flowery essay because I can only speak in metaphors, talks on who deserves redemption and who doesn’t.

--

Just finished Secret Alliance, and as someone who needs conversation after a satisfying, cathartic read, I decided to head to the manwha’s trailer to look at the comments, and, to no one’s surprise, saw a crowd of readers with divisive opinions (I always love this. It means the story was provoking enough to inspire different insights.) Of course, when you have a tragic, pretty boy with a murderous streak, you’d get an interesting crowd, and I found it quite easily. This crowd was divided between two factions— one that sympathized and exonerated Chae Yul from his actions, and the one who believed that he had everything coming to him. 

Personally, I’m part of the latter. 

Legally speaking, he committed criminal acts against Eun that deserved to be penalized. In fact, he was extremely lucky that she didn’t press any charges at all, that much I can agree with. The fate he received in the end was much more benign than what he was setting himself up for; but, at the same time, I’m happy that he was given that chance for redemption. To carry the burden of guilt, regret, and remorse is the punishment of those who sobered from delusion, as they will carry sins of their former selves with them for the rest of their lives.

Obviously, I sympathized a lot with Yul, but to sympathize doesn’t mean to exonerate one from their actions. As I read through the story, I wasn’t hoping for a happy ending. In fact, I felt dread each time he dug a deeper hole for himself. (You could even say that he was already deep inside it before the story even began.) I was half-expecting that he’d end up behind bars, or dead. It’s how a lot of yandere stories would end, as if stamping the message on our heads that people who are this far gone do not deserve to carry on as they are. How would you even hope to redeem a character like Chae Yul? Sad backstory aside, does his character deserve to be redeemed? 

I think that a chance for redemption comes when a character could have chosen the path that their circumstances molded them to be, but instead chose the one that allowed the first step to break away from that mold. (Arguably, Chae Yul was halfway down the first path, but sobered by Eun’s harsh reality check where he no longer had a place in her life, he was allowed a glimpse of the other path through the brambles, and he chose to tear his way through to get on the other side.) The more his past was divulged, the more I wished that he had a better “everything” before his nosedive in the story. Chae Yul was just a product of his circumstances. Mocked and objectified for his beauty (Why is conventional feminine beauty somehow always objectified... deserves another mini essay methinks), resented by his father who likely mistreated him because he lacked the masculinity he expected from a son he sired, he turned up bitter and resentful without a single ounce of faith in the world that had done nothing but consume what it desired of him only to spit him out right after.

It came as no surprise that he clung onto the first person who saw him as a human being, something other than an amalgamation. It also came as no surprise that without anyone to derive any form of healthy attachment from (My god, everyone either mocked him, or wanted to get rid of him or defile him), all he knew was that he’d be hard-pressed to release who he thought was the only person who could ever see him for who he could be behind his face. 

Cue the stalking, gaslighting, and blackmailing, and the terrible, no good, terrorizing of Eun. 

And yet, two years later, he was able to let go. Even though his heart “shattered to a million pieces, the sun still rose the next morning and he was still breathing.” When he realized that he no longer had a place in Eun’s life, the one person who his life revolved around, he pieced himself back together, perhaps alone, perhaps slightly cushioned by his tentative reconciliation with his sister. Drifting in space with nothing but the sobering pain of his heartbreak, he chose to honor Eun’s wishes and made himself scarce in her life, living the life she decided to spare instead of end in court trial that Yul would have lost. It’s true that he was a cruel, selfish, delusional egomaniac who terrorized Eun for most of her adolescent and young adult years with the sad hope of keeping her in his life. But, in time, he accepted the grave error of his ways—carrying with this the pain of knowing that he had hurt the only person he would ever love, the pain that he was a monster—and he would wear this truth around his neck as he presses forward. 

Did he deserve this ending? I believe he does. Does he deserve something worse? I believe he does so as well. What made the difference is that he chose to end it before it got worse. He chose to own up to his mistakes, and he so he lived by its consequences. He chose to carry his love for Eun as penance, afraid to ever forget her, and enacting it by leaving it unrealized. Perhaps without even knowing it, he’s performed his first pure act of love, a feat given that he was never spared some of it for even just a bit. 

#secret alliance #the secret alliance #chae yul #spoilers #cw spoilers #tw spoilers #if you disagree i'd love to hear your insights first before you call me names

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM manga updates 212 and 213 review

Hap-palled

Now y'all know that I've never met a piece of OPM story that I can't glom onto and gobble up like I'm late to a buffet and have been on an all-day fast, so you betcha I've got thoughts on the last couple of chapters. To say that I've got mixed feelings is an understatement. Fortunately, I found just the right image to convey this; it's a picture of Ippo (titular character of Morikawa's long-running boxing manga series Hajime no Ippo -- check it out if you like sports manga) being equal parts happy and totally appalled. Hap-palled, I'm calling this emotion.

I thought about summarizing the last two chapters but doing so is getting on my nerves and fuck it, everyone bothering to read this is highly literate, so you know the story. Let's just go straight for the meta.

META

I'll admit it; there's quite a bit in here that made me laugh. ONE's love of low-brow humour never left him and he brought it back. I shouldn't laugh but the ludicrousness of Saitama farting his way back to Earth after being teleported to the Sun; his wardrobe malfunction that restored his clothing everywhere except over his crotch, and Saitama being knocked ass over teakettle by an over-enthusiastic Genos did make me chortle. And of course, seeing Genos alive makes me happy.

However. Let's get more serious.

It's Not What You Want; It's What You Can Live With

While One-Punch Man is a story grounded in Saitama's lack of fulfilment owing to his getting what he wanted, in this story, if you look around, it's full of highly-capable, highly-driven, highly-accomplished people getting what they say they want... and then trying to live with it.

You can see OPM as an extended mediation on the futility of looking to any specific achievement or emotion as the source of happiness. When people ask how it can be classified as a seinen despite never having met a shonen trope it won't clothe itself in, it's this. And when OPM brings the sobering reality that happiness is not a static thing that can be attained once and for all to the world of insane characters striving to achieve impossible things, the implications get frightful.

Saitama's wishes have an especially terrible way of coming true.

Let's start with a positive one. You know OAV 1 when Saitama was sitting alone in the diner and saying that he had to believe that there was somebody out there who saw what he did and appreciated it. And that maybe it could be the guy who'd asked to be his disciple? Don't remember it? Go refresh your memory when you finish reading this. In chapter 155, that moment when Saitama finally understood that Genos really is a hero in his own right and isn't just fighting to get battle data or to fulfil the terms of their contract was the moment Saitama realised that his prayers had been answered TO. THE. LETTER.

Less positively, this arc has seen some of Saitama's less positive wishes come true too. His desire for a tough fight, for a rival who spurred growth, to feel himself growing stronger, to have to come up with new and exciting moves, he got them all.

Not that Garou was much of a rival; he only lasted as long as he did because Saitama decided to beat him with one hand. King pissed Saitama off by calling his desires shallow, immature, and not what being a hero was about. How right he was. The tragedy for the planet's existence was what it took for Saitama to see the truth of that.

I know Saitama said that he'd felt like destroying the Earth in a fit of frustration over losing his house. The fact that he really did throw a punch that would have destroyed the planet were it not for Blast (and team) intervening on losing Genos... should really give Saitama serious pause.

Garou also got his wish of being the Ultimate Evil, the ominous future that threatened survival itself, but how bitterly he came to regret it!

Just Had To Go There

After update 211, we had much speculation on how it could be possible that Genos's injuries were compatible with life. The answer: they weren't. Everyone else with blood coming out of every available orifice? They're dead too, even the allegedly unkillable Zombieman. Garou? He died; God went Old Testament on his ass and turned him into salt for displeasing Him. Saitama's the only person left alive on a planet that looks lifeless as far as the eye can see -- and probably much further. Not that the still-living would have much consolation: Jupiter, the protector of Earth from deadly projectiles, has been splashed and is slinging gigatons of rock and gas spewing in every direction. Even the Sun has not been left unscathed. ONE really went there, huh. But we'll fix it all... with time travel! This side of me is just appalled.

Physics is of course, not a friend to manga, but this time travel via subatomic particles thing takes the cake. There's just a homeopathic whiff of reality to it, in that subatomic particles can be symmetrical in time as well as space (e.g. an electron moving forward in time can be represented as a positron moving backward in time), but Garou being able to make particle and anti-particle sychronise but cancel out and Saitama being able to make them all go the same direction, thus moving backwards in time on the macroscale, ah hahaha.

Hell Is Truth Seen Too Late Redux

A few weeks ago, I wrote a meta about Garou's development in the story that is panning out quite well (damn) link.

As you know, I am never happy to see just one translation source. The last few chapters have really brought home why it's so important to have more than one independent person/group looking at the source material. A real problem with Garou's entanglement with God was that the translation given by the Reddit scanslation group and Viz alike was 'avatar', which created the impression that Garou was forced to do God's bidding. How does any redemption for Garou make sense if he didn't do anything? Denying characters agency is a horrid thing to do most times. Denying Garou agency is especially senseless.

I suspected otherwise and said as much; however, it's Koumbaya's love of digging into the connotations of the words used that really shines here. In an excellent bit of detective work (here), they pointed out that God's words to Garou were not that Garou would be His avatar per se, but rather the terms used when you empower someone to act in your place and with your authority. It would have been more correct to call Garou God's agent rather than His avatar. Garou has not been deluding himself about his actions being his own will. He was just telling the truth. Which means that what he did is his fault. This is a good thing but bear with me a second.

In their translation of update 211 (here), they also pointed out that when Garou was noting that he'd have to never see Tareo again, he moved from pronouns indicating closeness to those indicating distance. English has no compact ways of indicating distance. French can go from 'tu' to 'vous' here, so their translators are going to find this easy to convey. I noticed a couple of people puzzled as to why Garou went in the opposite direction to Tareo rather than towards him; that's your context. Garou should have left when Blast pleaded with him to come to a pocket dimension to save the lives of the people around him. He'd give anything right now to do that now, but Hell is truth seen too late.

One of the big, big flaws of Garou is that he's never seen people as people. They've been faceless things to him, and Tareo was the only person who could consistently cut through his miasma. His tendency to do this is mirrored by Saitama's state and thoughts just before he met Genos, btw. Like him, Saitama was losing his sense of reality. One becomes a monster when one becomes a separate existence from humanity, indeed.

Garou Finally Changes His Story

Bringing it all together, seeing Saitama holding that core was what brought it home to Garou that other people could understand him. They could feel like him, suffer like him, not think through the full consequences of their actions like him.

All through this story, Garou has seen himself as a victim of circumstances and has railed on how other people should behave better. Other people should stop being bullies. Should stop discriminating. Should stop being heroes with smug smiles on their faces as they put down the outcasts. He's appointed himself a monstrous busybody, going around trying to dictate to people how to be -- by knowingly adding great, needless cruelty to their lives. Nothing good was ever going to be built out of an enterprise founded on such crooked foundations. Well, what about you, Garou? What can you do to do better than you did before?

That's the most wonderful thing, to see Garou actually ask himself and find an answer to that question.

If Garou chose his actions, then that meant he had responsibility. If he had responsibility, then that meant he had agency. And if he had agency... then what stopped him from using his talent and imagination to consider a way to use his (literal) God-given abilities to a better end?

And that's when Garou humbled himself to ask for help. He could see how to use those powers, but he acknowledged that it was Saitama who had the ability to pull it off. This is a ridiculously huge step forward for him. I also read a certain humility in his asking Saitama to stop him before it was too late. An acknowledgment that he isn't going to be able to make different decisions without intervention.

I wondered how Garou's actions in this timeline could be forgiven. I had really hoped that what would happen is that he'd reverse entropy and heal the people he'd hurt, but alas, it was too late for anybody. I'm not a fan of redemption being death, but I understand ONE choosing to keep it simple (told you I was hap-palled). His actions were unforgivable so he paid for them with his life. But, he paid bravely. Even as God was turning him into salt, he did not waste a second panicking or feeling bad for himself and continued to instruct Saitama.

You may go 'why am I saying mean things about Garou?' But I feel that if for me not to note and condemn his bad sides is to sell his good aspects short and minimize the great personal development that he made. It's to me like measuring a mountain only from sea level, ignoring the fact that it is a sea volcano with its roots deep in the abyss. Half-assed.

He that would change the world must first start with himself is said so often it sounds trite, but self-transformation is no joke. Garou changed his story and, sad as I am over how it turned out, I couldn't be more proud of him. It really makes the cover hit different when you look at it again after reading the chapter and you realize that that's not Garou and Saitama's fists clashing but is rather a fist bump and that Garou's already turning into salt even as he does so.

In the end, they are not so different.

Too Little, Too Soon?

Speaking of personal change, let's move to Saitama who realised too late what he actually valued. And then dismantled causality itself to undo things. That moment of empathy when Garou realised that Saitama clung onto Genos as he clung onto Tareo for his very sanity, I wonder if Saitama has that same insight into his actions?

As I watch Saitama apparently forget why he re-entered the timeline once he merged with his present-day self and see him distracted by his disciple and a wardrobe failure in a very inappropriate place, I'm scared that Saitama won't remember enough to understand why he has to completely defeat Garou. If he only 'almost' beats Garou, Garou will continue on his catastrophic path and that would be a crime for which Saitama would be entirely responsible.

I hope the mute witness of the core he's still holding and the cramp in his left hand remind him of a future nightmare that might still come to pass, just a few minutes from now. I hope that his arms remind him of the feel of the dead child he rearranged to look as if they'd inexplicably decided to take a nap in a sea of rubble. I hope that his tongue reminds him of the taste of a youth crumbling away, who used his last bit of life to ask him to save him from himself. Even if Saitama doesn't remember what happened, I hope he realizes what he has to do and that it's not over until he ensures that Garou quits his quest for evil and finds a better path.

horrible, meaningless ends I never want to see again

Please, Saitama, this isn't the time to half-ass things. Beat Garou completely. His life and the lives of everyone you know and care about depend on it. Maybe that's why there's still a time-travelled core in Saitama's hand; the future is not averted. It's merely postponed unless he does the right thing fast.

I'm also concerned that Saitama may have dropped back into time too soon. That gamma-ray burst has still happened and it might not be too long before people start dropping dead anyway.

I've got a feeling that this isn't over by a long chalk. That baleful moon is still watching. It's not over until the Sun rises.

#OPM #meta #review #update 212 #update 213 #long #Saitama #Garou #God (no ID) #Dr Genus was right about an unlimited being going mad #how Saitama can continue to hang onto his sanity is an open question #it's been touching that Genos has been his anchor and link back to humanity #but there's only so long you can cling to a person like they're your liferaft #I don't think that God (no ID) is done meddling #He's very touchy about his agents talking about Him and giving His info away #unfortunately for Him Saitama has heard him and at some point will smite Him

[dedicatedesire]

💕 !!

Athena Peters (Female, 31) and Matthew Rothschild (Male, 28)

Matthew and Athena dated in high school. He wasn't sure what it was— maybe he just suspected that at that age, he was meant to date someone. They both liked to get high, and they made great grades, and he liked how much effort she put into anything: whether it be soccer during gym class or helping the underclassmen during tutoring. Maybe she asked him out, or he suggested they get food after school... he couldn't remember. Fast forward ten years, and they had long since been past not working out. She had wanted more from him emotionally, and he wanted more from her practically. Childhood love and virginities aside, he had never given her the emotional care she needed, and he had always expected her to... blossom. He didn't understand her fanciful words and the figurative language that embodied their texts, but he knew she was talented. He didn't know how to say "I love you, I always want you with me, but I wish that just being here was good enough for you and me," so, now, he keeps showing up to her record store and asking questions about her new boyfriends and giving unsolicited advice and pretending to his family like things with him Athena are totally copacetic, because he wishes they were and intends for them to be, but he knows he will never be able to crack into her creative and fanciful world and bring her into his crystal clear reality, but, perhaps, that's what he, painfully, loves about her. It's always been her, and he doesn't have to end up with her, but he wants to stick around long enough to see her spread her wings.

Charlotte Jacobs (Female, 32) and Savannah Smythe (Female, 30)

Charlotte and Savannah are both professors and were originally drawn to each other, being some of the youngest on staff and some of the only women. Savannah wouldn't categorize herself as gay or straight or even someone actively pursuing other people, but the light in Charlotte's eyes and their mutual love for literature struck Savannah. She's prone to obsessions and drawn to what's beautiful. She's scared of what the butterflies in her stomach mean, and not that she needed another excuse, but her present crush has been an amazing excuse to bury herself into more alcohol and risky situations. She hopes that Charlotte doesn't ever get to know the truly ugly and hard-to-handle side of her, so, for now, they've been discussing Frankenstein in the hallways and talking about the differences between nationalism and fascism.

Darian Hirsch (Male, 37) and Fern Caldwell (Female, 38)

Fern has never experienced love. She just likes to read it about it in her novels, and she, whimsically, believes that most men are kind, stoic and capable of being delicate and responsible. It's been to her detriment to find that this is not at all the case, but her naivete has proven itself nonetheless. She ran into Darian at an art exhibition and was beyond taken with his demeanor and vocabulary. Over time, their chance encounter grew into a completely well-meaning and endearing infatuation on Fern's side, and while Darian hadn't initially meant to hurt or use fern, it was hard to not have an ugly side revealed when the force of the entire sun was on you.

Emerson Jansen (Male, 41) and Savannah Smythe (Female, 30)

Bleeding heart liberal who hates cops meets Emerson on a chance encounter at the local coffee spot. She probably would have hated him had he not been so perceptive or had he not rubbed her back until she fell asleep or if he hadn't remembered her coffee order from the first time they met. Savannah is a broken child on the inside, her frivolous nature and her drinking are simply a coping mechanism, and she didn't trust much of anybody to let her guard down, but he'd seen her sober, he'd seen her happy, he'd seen her crying, he'd seen her wasted, and his mind about her never changed. She loved the way he took care of her and sometimes told it to her straight, sometimes told it to her like a teacher would a child and sometimes he just held her. Once, they'd even went to an arboretum, and she wondered if that was what it must've felt like to really be loved. She hated it. Originally, she had been so flippant about his perception of her because she didn't care about him at all, but now she couldn't imagine not having their clandestine visits, after all, who else had seen everything about her and still stuck around?

#hclyrcller #... timeless wasted f*cking jaded #... am i at rest or resigned in my chaos #... my poetry was lousy you said #[ i wish i had someone for parker .. ]

[allie-scribbles]

Harder to Hold [7]

Tags/Warnings: the slowest of burns, death of a character, grieving, alcoholism/bad drinking habits, unhealthy coping mechanisms, injuries

Chapter Index

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next few weeks passed quickly. Jess and the rest of Black Squadron had been sent out on a few small missions, nothing out of the ordinary. All it really meant was that in addition to your usual work, you were busy trying not to worry about her. And, apparently, Poe.

No matter how much you tried to distract yourself with work, Poe was always at the back of your mind. You did your best to keep him there, you really did. But you found you couldn’t help it. You were desperate for his missions to go smoothly, and you wished it was because you cared about what their successes meant for the Resistance as a whole. If you were honest with yourself, though, it was because you were almost certain Poe felt he had no one to lean on when things went south. You feared that the next time something happened, it might break him for good.

So far, your worry had been unfounded. Black Squadron always came back, and each time they did you were rewarded with the usual crushing hug and performance notes from Jess. The new addition that threw you for a loop, however, was the small smile and wave Poe never failed to give you as he left the hangar. He never had time to stop and talk, but you were glad that was the case. You didn’t want him to see the stumbling mess you became around most people when you were sober, didn’t want him to know that the Y/N he had met weeks ago wasn’t the real Y/N. That she was an illusion fueled by alcohol, grief, and moonlight.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your fear became reality one morning when they came limping back to base, battered and bruised. It should have been a simple mission to get information on the First Order’s movements: observe from a distance, then report back. But somewhere along the line it had gone horribly wrong… the details were muddy, but all you knew was that a skirmish had happened near a small, previously unknown outpost. The squadron had gotten away safely with no major injuries, but a few civilians had gotten caught in the crossfire.

The ships, however, weren’t in as good shape as their pilots. You had your hands full as soon as they got back, repairing the damage on Jess’ ship as well as helping out a few others with their work. The day passed in a whirlwind of grime, sweat, and cussing. Even Bruiser was busy, rolling across the hangar frantically, lending a hand to whoever needed it.

It was late by the time you were finally able to head back to your bunk. The work wasn’t done, but if you didn’t get some sleep you wouldn’t be able to actually fix anything correctly. You turned to Bruiser as you arranged your tools on your workbench, sighing. “Hell of a day, huh bud? Ready to turn in?”

Bruiser beeped and booped that he planned on staying up most of the night running tests, and that he would just charge up in the hangar tonight, not wanting to wake you when he did finish.

You smiled fondly at him, and bent down to give him a hug. “You don’t have to do that, B… it can wait till tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.” It made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort - It’s power was at 68%, and would be just fine thank you. But you, on the other hand, looked like you needed to sleep for a year.

“Wow, you sure know how to flatter a girl, B.” you tease the droid. Knowing you couldn’t convince him otherwise, you gave him a last pat and said goodnight. He nudged your knee affectionately, and sped off to work.

Standing up, you stretched your aching body. All you wanted to do was collapse in bed, but you forced yourself to grab some clean clothes and a towel before heading down the hall to the communal ‘freshers to wash up. The last thing you needed to add to your ever growing to-do list was scrubbing grease stained sheets.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Feeling slightly better now that you were in pajamas and no longer grimy, you shuffled down the corridor back to your bunk. Maker, you needed sleep, and you needed it now.

Your door had barely shut behind you when you heard loud footsteps in the hall, followed by quiet knocking on your door. Rolling your eyes and letting out an exasperated groan, you turn around and yank the door open before whoever it was could finish knocking. It was probably a junior mechanic who had spied you coming back, and wanted help with something. You try not to sound too irritated at their intrusion, but fail. “Look, I know there’s more work to do, but I’m sorry, I’m beat. Find me tomorrow morning and I’ll help then, ok?”

As you finish your less-than-pleasant speech, you finally recognize the person in front of you. It’s Poe, a sad smile on his face. “Geeze, remind me to not ever ask you for anything late at night ever again,” he quips.

Your eyes widen and your stomach drops, anxiety setting in. Fuck, how much of an asshole must he think you are? “P-Poe!” You stammer, “I am so sorry, I thought you were one of the other mechanics coming to ask me to help them with something and I just don’t have the mental bandwidth to do that right now but if I had known it was you I wouldn’t have snapped like that I’m so sorry it’s just been a long day and I… shit I’m rambling I’m so sorry, did you need something?” You blush furiously, mentally kicking yourself for being so damned awkward.

To your surprise, Poe doesn’t seem to be annoyed like most people tend to be when your mouth is running faster than your brain. His smile has grown a little brighter, and his eyes hold a hint of amusement. When you meet his gaze though, the smile fades. He begins to shuffle his feet - this must be a nervous tic of his. He speaks, but shifts his gaze away from you as he does. “I know it’s late, but I’m glad I caught you. I was wondering, what you said by the forest… did you mean it?”

You quickly replay the morning in your mind, not that you need to. You remember all of it perfectly. You told him he didn’t have to ever face anything alone, not if he didn’t want to. You nod. “Of course I meant it, Poe”.

He runs his fingers through his hair. “Um, well… today… today was rough. And you don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to, really, no pressure. But, um, I’d really like to not be alone tonight, not if I don’t have to be.”

You barely caught the last part, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. When what he says registers, you’re frozen in place. Poe fucking Dameron had a rough go and was coming to you for help. Wanted to be around you when he was hurting. What the hell was going on?

“Actually, forget I said anything, Y/N,” he blurts out.  “I can’t imagine how tired you are, I know the ships were in bad shape and you must’ve had a long day. I’ll just let you get some sleep.” He quickly turns to leave, but before he can get two steps down the hall he’s stopped by your hand on his forearm.

Slightly shocked at your own actions - you’d swear your arm moved of its own accord - you stare at him, trying to appear more confident than you feel. “Poe, get your ass in here,” you command, not unkindly. When he doesn’t move, you gently pull him towards you. With a sigh of relief you suspect he thought was quieter than it actually was, he follows you into your bunk.

When the door shuts, you finally get a good look at him. Everyone knows Poe is handsome… dark curls, warm eyes, and a smile that could knock the breath right out of you. Even though all of that is still there, his hair is disheveled and still wet from the ‘fresher. His eyes don’t have that glint of mischief in them, and are ringed with red. He’s smiling, but it’s weak and fading fast. The man before you wasn’t the Poe everyone else knew, and your heart broke for him all over again.

Being around people you didn’t know well stressed you out, and Poe definitely was still in that category. But your anxiety had a loophole: if someone was in distress, a twisted maternal instinct took over, forcing your nerves to slink off and hide in the recesses of your mind. And in this moment, who he normally was didn’t matter. The Poe standing in your bunk needed someone to take care of him, to lift the burden of being a leader from his shoulders for one night so he could feel freely without fear of ridicule. So that’s what you were going to do.

He glances around your bunk, shifting on his feet, obviously a little uncomfortable intruding on your personal space. It was messy, but still organized. The desk was littered with manuals and hastily scrawled notes, blueprints for new mods tacked up on the wall above it. Your hammock hung in the corner, a blanket halfway out of it. The walls around it and your bed were covered in sketches of ships, both old and new. On your clothes cabinet, a small holoprojector flipped through a few photos of you, Wills, Jess, and Cade.

“It’s not much, but it’s home”, you shrug, wanting to put him at ease.  He wanders over to look at the sketches of the ships, a genuine smile crossing his face. “These are amazing! Did you draw all of these?”

You smile at the sketches, laugh quietly. “I wish. I have zero artistic ability. My brother drew them.”

“Well, he certainly has a gift.” You hum your agreement, not bothering to correct him. Had a gift. As Poe finishes looking at the sketches he turns to you, smile fading completely. “Y/N…” he begins, but you cut him off. “Poe, stop.” He looks at you, confused and a bit taken aback by your firm tone. But when you sit on the bed and motion for him to sit next to you, he does.

You turn your body slightly, so you’re facing him. “Do you want to talk about it?” you question, your voice gentler than before. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not really.”

“That’s fine. Do you want to talk at all?” He looks at you, dejected. “No,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “I just… I needed to be around someone who doesn’t expect anything from me. And I thought after that night, maybe you knew what that felt like… and maybe you wouldn’t judge me for needing it.” Tears start to form in the corners of his eyes, and he quickly turns away from you.

You fight a sudden urge to envelop him in a hug, to try to physically hold together the pieces of the fractured man in front of you. Instead, you force yourself to stand up. Walking over to the control panel, you dim the lights to a soft glow. You return to the edge of the bed, and kneel in front of him.

Gently covering one of his hands with both of yours, you murmur his name and try to catch his eye. “Poe, I’ll be anything you need me to be, ok? Just let me know and I’ll be here for you.”

He still refuses to meet your gaze, but nods. You sigh, unsure of how to best help him. “Do you want me to talk about something? Take your mind off things?” He doesn’t respond. “Poe?”

He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know what I want, except to not be alone. Everyone else would just keep asking if I was ok, but you know I’m not. So can we just sit, and not bother pretending that everything is alright?”

You slowly release his hand, and stand up. “Of course, Poe,” you say softly. “I have some reading I wanted to do before bed, so I’m gonna go sit at my desk and do that. You can lay on my bed, climb in the hammock, pace, stare off into space, whatever you’d like. I’ll be here if you need me for anything. Even if it’s just knowing there’s someone with you.” He mumbles a barely audible thank you, and you turn towards your desk, trying to stop the tears threatening to spill from your own eyes.

Poe was restless, but he didn’t get up from your bed. At least, not that you could tell. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, knowing that as soon as you saw him his pain would bleed into you, and you wouldn’t be able to stop your tears. You didn’t care if he saw you cry, not really. He’d already seen that. But you knew if you did, he’d immediately bury his feelings to try and comfort you. And Poe didn’t deserve that. He was always taking care of everyone else, and it was high time someone took care of him.

Two hours went by before you felt brave enough to turn and check on him, not having heard any noises for the past half hour. The sight before you tugged at your heartstrings: Poe was fast asleep and snoring lightly. His head rested on one of your pillows and his arms clutched the other tightly to his chest, while his legs dangled off the side of your small bed. You moved to wake him, assuming he would probably want to return to his own bed. But as you drew nearer, you stopped short. He looked so peaceful, finally at rest after a rough night, and you don’t have the heart to wake him up and rob him of what was probably the first good sleep he’d had in a long while.

Carefully pulling the blanket from where it was bunched up under his legs, you covered him. Without thinking, you tenderly let your hand wander to his forehead and brush a curl out of his eyes. You begin to tear up once again, wishing you could take away his pain. And before you know you’re speaking, you whisper out the thought that has been floating in your head ever since he walked in your door. “I’m so sorry, Poe. I’m so sorry you’re a good man, because if you weren’t all this would be so much easier for you.”

Slipping towards your hammock, you wad up a jacket to use as a pillow. You turn the lights completely off and hop up into it, covering yourself with your spare blanket. Only when you shut your eyes do you finally let the tears slip out as his even breathing lulls you to sleep.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You wake with a start, the sound of your alarm pounding in your ears. Maker, you were NOT a morning person. Slinging your legs over the side of what you’re sure is your bed, you stand up. And immediately land facedown on the ground, dumped out of your hammock unceremoniously by your favorite force: gravity.

Groaning, you shove yourself upright, still groggy. Why the hell were you sleeping in your hammock? You catch sight of the freshly made bed. Weird, you rarely made it. A piece of paper on the pillow catches your eye. Weirder. You grab it, and as you start to read the night before begins to come back.

Y/N,

I’m so sorry for sneaking out, I had a briefing early this morning. I was going to tell you goodbye, but you looked so cozy. I just couldn’t wake you.

Thanks again for… well, you know. You didn’t have to, but it means a lot that you did.

I hope I’ll see you around today.

Poe Dameron

You read the short note once, twice, three times. Hating how happy it made you that he cared enough to leave it, hoping that you had at least done some good for him. You set the note back down on your pillow as you get ready for the day.

You finish lacing up your boots and walk to the door, but turn back just before opening it. Grabbing the note, you quickly walk over to your desk and open a drawer. Just like the lake, last night was for you and Poe only, and you wanted to keep the memory safe. So you carefully tucked it next to the few meaningful keepsakes you owned in a small wooden box.

You shut the drawer with a flick of your wrist and set off to start your day, smiling for a reason you just couldn’t put your finger on.

#poe dameron x f!reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fic #allie scribbles about poe dameron

[meizhous]

* / before the day is over.

I know it won't be long I know you're almost gone Hold on, let me in before the day is over Just let me in before the day is over

tw: blood, death, miscarriage

mentioned: @leviabrams, @luciacarrera, @dancewithiris

She’s riddled with guilt when the police chief announces that Lucia was found dead, fighting the urge to run or throw up or do anything but stand frozen as she had. It was typical of Mei, and in every sense, she had been nothing but a deer in headlights for the past month, bracing for every impact and taking the pain. This was her party, and even if she hadn’t planned it, hadn’t put a say in how grand it had been tonight, she felt as if the weight of what happened was on her. If anyone could’ve prevented someone she cared deeply for dying, it should have been her.

If Mei had just been honest, said what she felt instead of making herself smaller to appease anyone, this entire night could’ve been avoided. It’s why as she leaves Jieun on her own, she continues to call Levi despite every missed call, because as sick as it is, as much as he’s become the cause of her mental anguish, he also became her comfort along the way. Mei had been a mess, and Levi had been there to clean up every broken piece she’d dropped, been there to be her shoulder, and been there to make her laugh and smile despite what was happening. Somewhere along the way, he became her home. She wasn’t sure if she loved him, if she could feel as strongly as he did, but she knew that for certain.

So when he doesn’t answer his phone, Mei grows frantic. Surely, he just doesn’t have it with him, or maybe he’s in the bathroom, or maybe he’s in that hotel room that he’d mentioned. Her thumb jams down repeatedly on the elevator button, shooting Levi a text with her other free hand as she waits for the door to open. She needed something to calm her down. Being pregnant and sober for all of this was hard enough, so for once, she really does need her fiancé to hold her.

Fiancé. Mei hardly got into relationships, let alone would think she was the one getting hitched. There are so many doubts in her mind, and the gossip and looks from her parents have done nothing to put her at ease. She’s spent the entire night on edge, and in a way, Mei preferred it when it was only because people she didn’t even know were talking about her behind her back. She’d happily accept that reality, compared to being trapped at her nightmare of an engagement party. The elevator doesn’t seem to move fast enough, glancing between the floor number going up and her the unread text messages she’d sent. Why isn’t he answering?

She doesn’t entertain the worst, even if her heartbeat is steadily increasing as she steps off the elevator, pulling out the keycard Levi had given her. Even if he wasn’t here, she needed a minute. A minute of silence, of peace, where she wasn’t completely freaking out and forced to put on a front. The room was quiet, which made her think he was probably around somewhere downstairs. Mei figured he was busy, and even if she secretly wanted to see him right now, it would be unfair to lean on him more than she already had. So for just a second, she shut the door behind her and closed her eyes, a shaky, deep breath she’d been holding in escaping her lips. She was telling herself she wasn’t going to cry, even if it felt so hard right now. The guilt, the nerves, the worry. It was all beginning to mesh together into one pile of pain for her to struggle to grasp. She gives herself a minute before opening her eyes, stepping forward into the suite, and suddenly she’d wished she hadn’t.

She froze.

When Mei found out she was pregnant, she froze. When Levi proposed, she froze. When Lucia was announced dead, she froze. And when her fiance’s body was lying in a pool of blood, she froze. 

It had to be a joke, right? Her eyes stayed glued on him, and she was terrified to go any closer. She was terrified to find the truth for herself. “Levi,” she whispered, voice broken and weak before going to him in a panic. “Levi,” she repeated, tears threatening to fall as she held his face, waiting to see his eyes open. Except as the tears fell, his eyes didn’t open and Mei was struggling to let reality set in. “Wake up. You have to wake up,” she adds with a sob, shaking his body and the blood on the floor staining her legs and dress. All of the tears she’d been holding in all night poured down her face and she let herself sob into his chest, unable to admit to herself that this would be their last moment together. He had to be alive, and he had to make it despite the wounds she could see covering his body and the blood that was drowning the floor around them. No, she’d get up, and be the strong one for once, and she’d save him. He was still alive, even if she couldn’t hear any breathing and she couldn’t feel his heartbeat when she’d leaned down. Mei stood up, ignoring the slight pain in her abdomen, and reached for her phone. This place was swarming with police officers, surely one would hear her, right?

She opens the door, voice growing loud and desperate. “Help!” she yelled out, glancing down the dimly lit hallway for anyone. “Help!” she repeated, walking a little further down. “Please, someone!” Where are they? The police were supposed to be here to prevent this, so how did Levi get hurt? “He’ll die,” she let out weakly, leaning on some kind of railing for a moment. Her tears were clouding her vision, unable to see straight or what was in front of her. “Is anyone the—” Mei speaks again before slipping on something. Water? Some kind of liquid? Blood?

Unable to stop herself, she tumbles down the flight of stairs, phone landing a few steps above. She’s in shock, running completely on adrenaline, and for a moment she wonders if she’s hallucinating, and how she managed to end up back in her own hotel room in the pool of Levi’s blood. It's everywhere, red covering her vision even in the darkness. There's a growing pain in her stomach that's overwhelmed by the sight in front of her, eyes widening again because she wasn't in his blood, she was in someone else's. Her white dress is stained at this point, and her mind doesn't even register the growing, sharp pain in her stomach when there's an unconscious woman in front of her. 

“Iris,” she whispers, this time reaching for her phone. Nobody was here. Two people were injured in her eyes and nobody was coming to help. Mei dials 911, breath shaky as she pushes the older woman’s hair out of her face, trying to see if she was still breathing. “There's two people that are hurt, and… and I don't know if they're gonna make it and there's no one around to help,” she rushes out, a sob following her words as she takes Iris’s hand. “One of them is my fiancé. His name is Levi, and… I don't… I don't know if he's still breathing but you have to come save him,” she adds, breaking down into tears. “I left him, and there's…” she pauses. “There's someone else, and she's really hurt and her name is Iris.” There's an intense pain that isn't lost on Mei this time, yelling out and crying as she's forced to grab her stomach.

The woman on the other end of the line grows stern, asking her if she's hurt and Mei can barely hold it together as she's forced to process far too many realities all at once. Any attempt she has to get up is shot down by the pain. “My baby,” she cries out, stuck at the bottom of these stairs with a woman she's only known for a few hours, unable to stand up and get back to Levi. Was he okay? Was he alive? Did she do enough for him?

Every movement grows weaker, slumping against the wall as the shock wears off, leaving behind a violent sharpness she can feel in her stomach. Mei feels tired. She’s felt tired for weeks, but right now, she's exhausted, struggling to keep her eyes open and struggling to stay conscious and on the line with the operator. But it's so hard, everything has felt so hard. Being pregnant was hard, being engaged was hard. And it had felt like a sick twist that the very things that she struggled with would be what's causing her so much pain in the wake of their loss. She's right back to where she was, except nothing about it feels right and she's left regretting ever wishing that she could turn back time.

Mei can feel her own heart break thinking about Levi. Not being able to hold him right now, and not being able to be the person he deserved. He deserved someone who loved him, he deserved so much more than the reality she was giving him. All Mei ever wanted was to make him happy, even if it was at the sacrifice of herself, and she would've grown to love him and grown to love their child if she'd been given a chance. But it was unfair, she was left feeling broken in both realities, never quite coming to terms in time to be happy.

Slowly, her eyes begin to close and her surroundings begin to fade, the hold she had on Iris’s hand growing loose and her phone drops from her hold and onto the group. 

And just like that, it's the end.

#mei / paras #miscarriage tw #death tw #blood tw