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#and then I sobbed quietly on the plane back leaving behind all the love I had known for those four months
goldenempyrean · 2 months
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An Icy Plunge
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〚 Notes - Life's been busy! New job, exams, writers block (only for sickfics too which is beyond annoying) but here's a little something which I thought of while rewatching BlackWidow an hour or so ago - I did sob at the end credits of course.. 〛
〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛
〚 Summary - As a result of falling into the icy Norwegian waters, Nat ends up getting sick as you two make your way to Budapest. 〛
〚 Wordcount - 1400 〛
〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙
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“I told you we should’ve tried to get you warmed up properly.” You sighed quietly, more to yourself then anything as Nat sniffled softly. Her head resting on your shoulder as the pair of you sat at the back of a crowded train carriage. 
It had been almost 2 days since both you and Natasha were ambushed by an unknown person on your drive into town. Nat had taken the brunt of their attack, in turn, getting herself kicked off a bridge, plunging down into the icy Nordic waters below. 
She was fine for the most part, only a handful of bruises which all things considered, she got away pretty lucky. But there’d been a picture attached to the glowing band of red vials that she’d stashed in her pockets and by the time you had made your way down to the riverside to help her out of the water, Nat had already come up with a plan. 
You were going to Budapest. 
You hadn’t wanted to pry too much; she had told you it had something to do with her sister, but you didn’t know all the exact details – you still had some questions. All you knew was that Budapest was the place Nat thought she’d get the answers to her own questions, so that was where you were going. 
With both yourself and Natasha being global fugitives, getting to Budapest wasn’t as simple as hopping on board the first commercial plane. You were going to have to do this the hard way. It had taken almost half an hour to walk your way to the nearest town from the river, by the time you arrived, Nat was shivering helplessly beside you. 
The temperate was already in the low minuses as it was, but that icy water must’ve been excruciatingly cold. Even with your jacket draped over her, it was clear to see she was freezing.  
“Do you think we should stay in a hostel or something for the night? You’ll get hypothermia if you stay in those clothes. We can leave at first light.” You had offered as the two of you made your way deeper into the town, passing by a small convenience store. 
Natasha seemed to debate your offer, nodding her head after a moment as she fought back another shiver, “Yeah, that’s probably best.” She agreed, before looking around and pointing to a charity shop in the distance, “They’ll sell clothes in there, can you go get us a bed?” She asked, nodding back at an inn you’d walked past earlier. 
You agreed with Natasha's plan, and she headed towards the shop while you made your way to the inn. The place seemed quaint from the outside, but you couldn't shake the feeling that it might be a little too rustic for comfort. However, beggars couldn't be choosers, and you hoped it would at least provide a warm bed for the night. 
The innkeeper was a gruff-looking man who eyed you suspiciously as you inquired about a room for the night. "We got a room, but don't expect any luxury here. No hot water tonight, and the heating is barely working," he warned. 
Well, you had a bed atleast. 
The innkeeper handed you a key, and you made your way up the creaky staircase to find your room. The space was small and dimly lit, with a single window covered by thin curtains that did little to keep out the harsh cold.  
You had a double bed so that was a positive you’d supposed. It was honestly comical the amount of times you and Nat had to share a small single bed together, but it wasn’t like you minded that anyway. Talking of Nat, she’d only been 10 minutes or so behind. Shuffling into the room with some rough but warmer looking clothes bundled under her arm. 
“Get what you needed love?” You asked, as she began to strip out of her soaked clothes. 
“The pants aren't exactly my style, but they’ll be better than these,” She sighed, taking her new clothes and heading into the tiny attached bathroom, “I’ll try hang these wet ones to dry.”  
When she came out, she looked more like herself, although the lingering chill was still evident in her eyes. "I could really use a hot shower right about now." she mumbled, rubbing her pale hands together in an attempt to generate some warmth. 
"Sorry about that," you apologised sympathetically, "The guy at the desk mentioned there's no hot water tonight. I can go check out town a little to see if there’s anywhere, you’d be able to get one, clothes can only do so much to warm you up." 
She shook her head, “You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.” Natasha sighed, but she didn't complain. Instead, she walked over to the bed and crawled under the covers, fully dressed. You joined her, wrapping your arms around her to share body heat. The cold from the room made the close contact comforting rather than stifling. 
The night passed with the two of you huddled together for warmth. The room, despite its lack of amenities, did provide some respite from the biting cold outside. The next morning, you awoke to the soft light filtering through the thin curtains and the sound of Natasha stirring beside you. 
"Morning," you greeted, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 
Natasha groaned in response, her voice sounding hoarse and congested. "Morning," 
Your brow creased in worry at the sound of her voice, “You don’t sound too good honey, I knew we should’ve gotten you into a hot shower.” Your hand came to cup her face, your thumb drawing soft circles on her subtly flushed cheeks. 
Natasha shifted uncomfortably, her hand reaching up to touch her forehead. "I'll be fine," She tried to offer a weak smile but was quickly replaced by a damp sneeze. It’s probably just a little cold. Besides, we can't afford to stay here too long anyway. We need to get to Budapest," she insisted 
Despite Natasha's insistence that she would be fine, it was clear that she wasn't in the best shape. She sniffled and shivered under the covers; her body temperature higher than it should be. Still, she pushed herself to get up. 
"I'll be alright," she reassured you, her voice wavering slightly. "Let's get going. We can't afford to waste any more time." 
You reluctantly agreed, helping her gather her things and head downstairs. The innkeeper gave you both a sceptical look as you settled the bill, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for not being able to pay for a more comfortable stay. Nevertheless, you and Natasha made your way to the bus station, where you boarded a bus bound for the nearest train station. 
The bus had dropped you off at a larger town where you had to transfer to a train. The train station was bustling with people all rushing about, and you held Nat’s hand as the pair of you navigated through the crowds before coming to a ticket stand where you both bought tickets to take you to the border, from there you’d have to take a ferry to get into mainland Europe then another 2 or 3 trains to finally arrive in Budapest. It wasn’t a direct journey by any means, the several stops, long distances and changes meant it was going to take a few days to get there at the minimum. 
This had led you to where you were now. A couple hours or so into your long journey to the border with Nat resting on your shoulder, small stuffy breaths coming from her parted lips.  
She sneezed suddenly, a sharp sound that seemed to startle even herself. She looked at you with a mix of surprise and irritation, as if the sneeze had betrayed her. 
You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Bless you," you said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. The skin felt warm against your lips, and you couldn't ignore the worry gnawing at you. Natasha sighed, leaning into your touch for a moment. 
"Thanks," she mumbled, her voice still raspy. "I hate being sick." 
"I know, love," you replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Once we get to the border, we'll find a pharmacy or something but for now just try to catch up on some sleep, okay?” 
“We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.” 
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repulsiveliquidation · 4 months
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Kiss Me Before You Go
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Leah Williamson x Reader Blurb!
Angst. Based on a song, kiss me before you go by will hyde. I wrote this in 15 minutes on the plane when I heard this song come on lol.
just a little something before i post again later!
//
“I can’t fucking do this anymore Leah!”
“You can’t do this? I’ve been trying, you can’t just throw us away like that!”
“Watch me.”
She walks out the door, slamming it behind her. I stare at it and wait, hoping that she opens the door and walks back inside. Waiting for her to slam herself back into my arms. Waiting for her to kiss me. Waiting for her to love me again.
She doesn’t. A car door slams, engine runs and she’s gone. The love of my life is gone.
She said she’d never leave.
//
“It’s been a week Leah, you’ve got to get out of this bed.”
“I don’t want to.”
“She walked out on you, Lee. She left.”
“She’ll be back. She always comes back.”
“No one knows where she is. She’s not coming back.”
“Get out.”
“Leah please.”
“I SAID GET OUT OF MY HOUSE ALESSIA!”
Alessia walks out quietly, leaving Leah alone. Leah cries again for the umpteenth time, hoping and praying that her belief that you will show up comes true. It has to.
//
“How is she doing, Ale?”
“You know exactly how she’s doing, hermana.”
“I want to go back, I really do. But she’s been a handful since her injury. She gets mad easily and she blames everyone but herself. I can’t blame her, she’s frustrated I get that. But she doesn’t get to walk all over me just because she’s had her life turned upside down!” Frustrated tears flow down your cheeks, Alexia pulls you into her arms and rocks you slowly. You’ve gone back to Spain, needing to be away from Leah and home was the best option.
“I know bebita. You put up with me when I got injured. I know how she feels and I know it’s hard but she needs you now more than ever Pequeño. She needs some time but she also needs someone who is strong than she is right now. For me, it was Mami, Alba and you. She has her family; no doubt they’ll be the ones who will be there for her, but you’re different to her. You’re you. She needs that.”
You mull on Alexia’s words, nodding softly into her chest. She smiles, rubbing your back with a happy smile on her face that she got through to you. Leah had called her sobbing before you got here, knowing that you would have either stayed with one of the Arsenal girls or gone home. When no one at Arsenal had heard from you she called Alexia. She thought it was odd to get a call from the England captain but answered anyway. Her sobs broke Alexia’s heart, listening to her cry out for you and to tell you that she loved you and that she hoped you would come home after you’ve had a bit of time.
About 20 minutes later you called her and told her you were booking a flight to Barcelona and after she ended the call she sighed. She knew about Leah’s injury and having suffered the same one just a few months before she knew how stressful it must have been.
You sat on the couch that night and booked the next flight back to England. You called Alessia and asked her how Leah was doing and your heart shattered at the news that Leah had been cooped up in bed the whole week. You apologized to Alessia for having to be a part of this, promising that you would make it right.
//
The sound of the front door unlocking scared Leah. She was about to go out there and yell at Alessia for disturbing her again when she was met with the one person she had wanted to see all week. She stood there dumbfounded, rubbing her eyes and hoping she wasn’t dreaming. You walked in the house, standing in front of her.
“Leah?”
She doesn’t answer, crumbing to the ground in tears. You immediately pull her into your lap, sitting on the floor with her. You cry with her, cradling her and rocking her back and forth.
“I’m so sorry. I love you so much Leah, I’m so sorry I walked out.”
“You left me when I needed you.”
“I know baby, I’m so sorry I did that. I broke a promise I made to you. I can only hope you can forgive me baby.”
“I needed you…I cried out for you…I wanted you to hold me and to tell me I was going to be okay…”
“I will now, my love. I will try to be better. I love you. I love you so much it hurt so bad to be away from you when I knew in my heart and soul that you needed me. I was wrong. I wasn’t trying hard enough. I will try harder now, only if you’ll let me.”
“Please, don’t break my heart again.”
“I won’t my love. I’ll put it back together and I’ll never break it again.”
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finkinthisfrew · 6 months
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Anything (Pt.39)
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Saying goodbye at the airport was hard. Walking away was even harder. But seeing Matty's tear-stained face trying to hold a smile as he waved goodbye made turning down the corridor next to impossible. It took everything in me not to collapse after I rounded the corner out of sight, but I held strong. I held back until I buckled myself into the plane seat, finally allowing myself to replay the passionate kiss Matty gave me before we parted in my mind. 
His kiss was urgent, but his lips were gentle, tender against mine which quivered with sadness. His hand weaved its way through my hair, caressing my scalp sweetly, his other on my lower back, pressing me closer against his needy body. His lips never left mine for more than a second as he kissed me over and over, each kiss harder and more passionate than the last, up until the very last moment before I had to leave. I kept replaying the kiss over and over in my mind as we took off, my silent sobs only waning when the flight attendants approached during mealtimes. 
Eventually, I fell asleep, exhausted from crying, and too numb to do anything else. After the taxi ride home, Matty called me back after he got off stage, apologizing profusely between tears for not being there to answer my call when I landed and telling me he missed me more than anything. Once I got upstairs and tossed my luggage aside, I peeled off my clothes and crawled into bed, propping my phone up against the pillow next to me, and lay down to watch Matty make his way back to his hotel. By the time he got back and crawled under his own covers, it was well past 4:00 am in London. I didn't care though- I didn't even notice. It didn't matter how late it was, or how exhausted I felt, all I cared about was being with him- even if it was only through a phone.
We lay watching each other on our screens, tears coming in waves, interjected with the occasional little 'I miss you so much...' or 'I love you'. We fell asleep together on the phone, and I slept heavily and dreamlessly up until the early afternoon.
As I lay curled up in a ball under my duvet watching Matty's chest rise and fall in the corner of the screen, his face angelic as he slept, I fought internally over what to do. I could get up and start my day and go to the pottery studio to work, or I could do what I really wanted to do, which was lay in bed and let myself cry all day. I knew what the responsible choice was, but it felt too heavy- too much. The thought of going on with my day when everything felt wrong seemed impossible. How was I supposed to live my life if the love of my life wasn't here? I flip-flopped back and forth for a while, my train of thought breaking as I saw Matty's eyes squint open sleepily.
"You look a bit grumpy this morning," I heard my favourite voice on the planet tease from my phone. Seeing his sleepy face looking at me through half-open eyes made me miss waking up in his arms terribly, but his little smile was so cute that even in my dismal state I couldn't help but smile back. 
"I was just trying to decide what to do today," I blushed as I picked up the phone and sat up quietly in bed. I watched him yawn and stretch his arms before he followed suit, picking up his phone and propping himself up against the headboard.
"What are our options?" he asked sweetly. I loved how he said 'our'. It made him feel a little less far away. I smiled even bigger at that, and he grinned widely back at me.
"Well, my first option is going into the studio and begging whoever's in today to let me get caught up on the boatload of work I'm now behind on... I have so much to get done before next weekend, and I thought I'd have more pieces finished by now," I started to ramble, not mentioning the reason I was so behind was because I had left two days earlier than expected for my trip. I didn't want to make him feel guilty.
"That sounds like a nice option. What's option number two?" he asked curiously as he twirled a piece of his hair absentmindedly with his finger.
"...crying in bed all day..." I replied sheepishly.
"Oh, petal," he said, his voice full of tenderness as his brow creased with sadness. 
"I know, I know... I'm aware of how lame that sounds now that I say it out loud..." I said as I put a hand up to cover my reddened cheek.
"That's not lame, darling. Your pain is the furthest thing from lame..." he reassured me gently.
Neither of us wanted to trigger the tears that threatened both of our eyes, so we just sat in silence for a few moments looking at each other sadly.
"I think going to the studio is a great idea, you should go," Matty said gently, eventually breaking the silence. "Don't give me that look of skepticism!" he said smiling cheekily at my now frowning face. "You know I'm right!"
I couldn't help but laugh. And as terrible as it felt to be apart, things felt different this time. Don't get me wrong. I felt heavy, exhausted, broken and defeated, but I felt something beneath all of that this time. A strong foundation, unmoveable and unbreakable. Matty and I were in this together this time, and I wasn't going to feel so lonely again. I knew it- I could feel it.
I sighed over-dramatically as a tear escaped my eye.
"I don't want to admit you're right, but I'm too sad to fight, so I'll let you win this time," I said with a small smile. I saw Matty's eyes soften at the tear rolling down my cheek and I could almost feel his thumb wiping it away gently through the phone.
"We could spend the day together!" Matty said as his eyes lit up. "Maybe I could keep you company today while you work?" Matty suggested. "If you'd like it?"
"I'd love your company," I said with a smile, my heart swelling at the thought. "But is that possible? You're so busy," I said worriedly, not wanting to get in the way of his schedule, "And I mean... do you think it's sustainable if we just Facetime all the time whenever you're on tour? We can't do that forever..."
"I think we've learned cold turkey doesn't work for us," Matty said softly with a playful smirk. "We can ease into it- spend some more time together on the phone until we've acclimatized ourselves to being apart, then maybe cut back a little once things don't feel as fresh," he suggested thoughtfully. "I've got nothing going on until the show tonight," Matty continued happily. "Come on, let me keep you company for today. We're taking a bus to the next show tonight anyway, so I can hang out all day until the show if you'd like! Maybe it'll make things a little easier."
I thought today was going to be a terrible day full of tears and numbness, but I felt so much lighter knowing I'd have Matty's company. I couldn't help but smile at the idea.
"I'd love to," I said, my heart fluttering as a giant smile of relief spread on Matty's face.
We chatted casually about Matty's schedule for the next few days as I got dressed to go to the studio. I pulled on a pair of navy Adidas shorts and a white baby tee before heading to the washroom to brush my teeth. Matty hopped out of bed and rushed into his own bathroom to join me.
"I -ih I -oo -ee yo- -oo-uh," Matty mumbled as he brushed his teeth, white foam spilling out of the corner of his mouth.
"Huh?" I said through my own full mouth. 
He bent out of the frame to spit the toothpaste out of his mouth before returning with a big smile.
"I wish I could steal your toothbrush," he repeated with a cheeky grin.
I couldn't help but smile back, my heart fluttering at the thought of his hand on mine, stealing the brush like he always did.
"That's the one nice thing about being apart," I said jokingly as I rolled my eyes.
Matty dropped his mouth in mock offence.
"I can't believe you'd say that," he said, clutching his chest dramatically as we both laughed.
We chatted happily my whole walk over to the studio. I was immensely lucky- no one was there when I arrived and the booking sheet only had one name written down for 9:00 pm that evening. I had the place to myself until then.
I worked away at the wheel for hours, chatting about everything with Matty, watching him journey to breakfast, waving hello to the band, listening to him play guitar on the tour bus, telling each other stories as they came to mind, and just staring wistfully at each other as we let the static of silence play through our phones. It was sad but nice. I was so grateful he'd suggested we spend the day together- he was right. It did make everything a little easier.
It was well past dinner and I had an hour left until I had to leave. I was almost completely caught up on my work and was pushing to get ahead now when I saw someone was calling me. I leaned towards the screen which I had propped up on a stool across from me, squinting to read the name as Matty's head looked up from his guitar.
"What's up, darling?" he asked curiously.
"Carly's calling me- can I call you back?" I asked as I wiped my hands quickly with a rag.
"Of course. Actually, we're just getting to the venue and we have to start sound check in a minute. Shall I call you back once I'm done? Maybe we can watch a movie together before you go to bed or something- have ourselves a little date night," he suggested with a little smile.
I beamed back at him.
"I'd love that," I said happily as he smiled back at me. "Have a good sound check! I love you!" 
"I love you too, Anna," Matty said sweetly, his eyes scanning my face lovingly before hanging up the phone.
I quickly accepted Carly's call before it could go to voice mail.
"Hello?" I answered curiously.
"Hi, Anna! Welcome back! How was the trip?" Carly asked pleasantly. I really liked Carly, she was such a kind person- she and Adam were so perfect for each other, it warmed my heart thinking about it.
"It was great! Way too short," I admitted sadly, "but perfect. I wish you could have come!" 
"I know, me too, I'm so upset I missed George and your karaoke performances, I heard they were pretty spectacular," she chuckled, "But I'll get my own night out with them in a couple days."
"Oh right, I forgot, you're leaving tomorrow!" I remembered suddenly. Adam had told me how excited he was for Carly to come visit. Much like Matty and I, the two of them had planned for Carly to visit when they had a full free day off, but she was going to stay and travel with them for the rest of the tour afterwards.
"I'm so excited- I'll make it just in time for the show tomorrow night and then we get the whole day together Monday," she gushed giddily before cutting herself off. "But anyways, I was calling to ask if you wanted to come get a drink tonight with me and some of the girls! I won't see you until after tour, and I'm sure you'll be busy with Matty once we're all back- I'd love to see you before I leave!"
"I'm not sure..." I answered hesitantly. I wanted to see Carly, but I wasn't sure if I could handle going out when I'd been in such a fragile state just a few hours ago. Spending the day with Matty had felt so lovely and had made me feel so much better, but the thought of going out seemed exhausting. Not to mention I didn't want to bail on our last-minute movie date.
"I honestly would love to, but I think I'd just be a sop and bring down the whole mood if I came along," I admitted. "I'm not sure if I have the energy to be social- I'm still feeling pretty down about leaving Matty..."
"I understand," Carly said kindly. "How about you sit on it? We aren't meeting until 10:00 pm anyways. Think about it and let me know either way?"
"Thanks, Carly," I replied. "I'll let you know."
After we hung up I saw I had about a half dozen new text messages, and I smiled when I saw they were all from Matty.
I miss you already
I like knowing you're in my pocket here with me :)
Do you know how beautiful you are btw?
I've got the most gorgeous girlfriend on the whole planet and all I wanna do is kiss her
I love you so much, angel
Look: this venue is ALMOST big enough to house the teeniest fraction of my love for you
The last text came with a photo. Matty had taken a selfie on stage at sound check with the giant empty stadium behind him. He had a huge grin on his face and looked unbearably adorable.
I quickly wrote back.
I miss you and love you more than anything, baby
It took mere seconds for him to reply.
Not more than me ;)
I blushed at his response as another text came in.
What did Carly want?
I quickly typed out the summary, explaining how she'd invited me for drinks and how I didn't think I'd go because I was too sad and wanted to have our movie night.
You should go! We can have movie night any old night. I don't want you cooped up inside and depressed because of me- you should go have some fun! I think it'd be good for you to get out and take your mind off things for a couple of hours. Then you can tell me all about your night once you're back- I'll probably be off stage by then
I hesitated.
But what about our movie night?
I waited patiently for Matty's response for twenty minutes as I fought internally over what I should do, working out my anxiety on the wheel.
Sorry- just sound checking! Let's do a movie night Monday night- tomorrow I'll be on a flight after the show, but Monday I have the whole day free! We could even do a movie marathon or something :) 
Please go tonight <3 It would make me so happy to know you're out having a fun time with Carly
I placed my phone on my lap and tapped my toe anxiously as I went back and forth in my mind. As hard as it felt, I knew things were different this time and that everything would be okay, but I knew that it would take effort on both our parts. I knew Matty was making a selfless sacrifice by telling me to go, and he wouldn't do it if he didn't think it was for the best. I sighed before picking up my phone again and typing out my response.
Alright. But we get the WHOLE day together Monday- capiche?
I got back to throwing the last piece of the day on the wheel and received a text message another twenty minutes later.
I was going to threaten you with mobster talk if you didn't suggest it first :)
Monday all day- it's a date <3 
I'll call you once we're done here- I'd like to watch you get ready to go out (in a very wholesome and completely not pervy way...)
I couldn't help but laugh out loud. I sent Matty several heart emojis in response as I looked up at the clock to find I only had a few minutes left in the studio.
I wired off my piece and placed it on the shelf to dry along with the rest of my fresh pieces, snapping a quick picture to send to Matty later. I gathered my belongings and tapped on Carly's contact in my phone as I rang her back.
"Alright. Where are we going, and what should I wear?" 
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skylarsin7 · 5 months
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Chapter 20: A Matter of Time
She lay there in silence for what felt like an eternity after Steve left. The pills sat on the nightstand, mocking her with their distance. Her head pounded, but she couldn’t force herself to sit up and take the aspirin Steve had left for her. They wouldn’t help anyway. It had been several days since any of the painkillers had worked. Sleep tugged at her consciousness, beckoning her into a welcoming darkness. She found that she couldn’t resist it for long, and surrendered to its call.
When she opened her eyes, she was in the woods near Skull Rock. The wind whistled serenely through the trees, and the sunshine fell in muted shards through the canopy. A wave of calm settled over her and she drew in a deep breath. “Lily?” A voice drew her attention, her eyes widening as she turned towards the owner. Tears flooded her vision, grief and joy welling in her chest in equal measure. “Eddie?” She asked, quietly, afraid that the moment would shatter and disappear, and him with it. He smiled softly, nodding. He was dressed in a suit that was clearly too small in the shoulders for him, and a few inches too short. It was shabby and tattered, but he never looked more handsome. His long hair was combed, but left to gently brush his shoulders. His hands were devoid of his rings, his fingers oddly naked without the shine of the silver ringlets. “H-how?” She could scarcely breathe for the lump in her throat.  He shrugged. “Does it matter?” She shook her head, unable to contain herself any longer. She flew to him, all but launching herself into his outstretched arms. She buried her face in his chest, sobbing openly. He stroked her hair, holding her close. “Shh shh…it’s alright love. Don’t cry sweetheart, you’ll stain your dress.” She pulled away long enough to look down. She was no longer in the oversized sweats and hoodie she had been living in the past few days, nor was she adorned in the black velvet gown Robin had lent her. 
White lace hugged her curves like a second skin, the gown fitted to her waist, where it gathered on one side in a waterfall of iridescent organza, falling all the way to the ground. It flowed out behind her in a train that would have made the Queen of England jealous. A simple birdcage veil crowned her head and fell over her face, a scattering of glass beads catching the light and winking like stars. Her dark hair fell in perfectly tamed ringlet curls down her back, tiny rhinestone clips scattered across its plane. Similar beads and stones adorned her gown in patterns of white spider lilies and roses. In her hand, which was clad in a white satin glove that went just past her wrist, was a gorgeous waterfall bouquet of the same flowers that were scattered on her dress. “You look stunning…” He whispered, mirroring her thoughts. He brushed away a stray tear, and leaned in to kiss her. She surrendered to his touch, but something felt off. His lips were cool, almost cold as they closed over hers. She ignored it, content to be in his arms again, no matter how. 
Applause reached her ears and she pulled away from him. A congregation of their friends and Eddie’s uncle were clapping for them, all dressed in their Sunday best. Even Max was there, clapping and grinning from ear to ear. Max, Nancy, and Robin stood to Lily’s right, clapping and smiling. Dustin, Steve, and Lucas stood likewise on Eddie’s side. No question who walked who down the aisle. Lily returned her attention to Eddie, joy making her soul soar, eclipsing her grief so completely it was as if it no longer existed. “If this is a dream, I never want to leave. I’ll murder anyone who tries to wake me.” She whispered. Eddie’s smile faded, and the applause rose in a roar, then morphed into a chorus of screeches and screams. Lily turned, her eyes widening as the congregation was overrun by an army of demobats, creatures that walked bipedally, their heads opening like a deadly flower, and creatures that walked on all fours. Demogogons and Demodogs. Lily didn’t need to be told to know what they were. Bodies littered the ground, torn and broken dolls as the mob engulfed them, screams dying one by one until only the cries of the monsters remained.
Something warm dripped on her shoulder and she turned back to Eddie, her heart hammering as horror gripped her in its icy fist. His eyes were dark, blank, all the light gone from them. A wide gash had been torn across his throat, and blood dripped lazily from the wound. The entire front of his suit was stained crimson, and his skin was so pale it was nearly transparent. His lips were parted in a ravenous maw, sharp fangs arching savagely downward. She pulled herself away from him, staggering back and falling on her rump. Into something wet. She looked down, crimson splattering her white gown, the white lilies in her hand stained in the same bloody liquid, resembling their dark counterpart, the Lilies of Death as it soaked into the petals. She screamed, throwing the bouquet away from her, scream after peeling scream tearing from her throat. 
Her screams of terror followed her into the waking world, echoing through the rafters and clapping back and forth like thunder. "Just a dream...just a dream…" She murmured to herself as she rocked back and forth. And it had to be. He was gone for good. Buried in the ground beneath Skull Rock. Pain gripped her chest, the grief that had momentarily been abated roaring to life, lungs constricting until she could barely draw in air. She didn't know how long she could stand this agony. Her eyes fell to her hands, the skin sunken in between the bones, so pale they were nearly ghostly. She didn’t know if it was the grief of losing Eddie and Max that was making her sick, but whatever it was it seemed to be getting worse. 
She rose, her legs shaking as they struggled to hold her up. She staggered a step and nearly fell, knocking over the glass of water and one of the pills onto the floor. The pain in her chest refused to dissipate, and she was breathing rapidly past the lump in her throat. These emotions were going to be the death of her. And if sleep wouldn’t dull them, she knew of one thing that would. 
She descended the stairs carefully, to the door that led down in the cellar. The cool air had goosebumps pebbling her skin, making her shiver violently. Maybe she would die of hypothermia and alcohol poisoning. Then she wouldn’t feel anything anymore. She could be with Eddie again, and see her father on the other side. She made it to the base of the stairs, not bothering with the light. She grabbed the closest bottle and twisted the cap. Or tried to. The metal ring refused to budge. Frustrated, she tapped the bottle on one of the shelves. It cracked, but refused to give way, steadfastly holding onto its contents. Distillers were no joke in the 60’s. Seemed that you needed a crowbar to get into the damned things. Tears of frustration slid lazily down her cheeks, tracking dust and other debris down her face. Huffing, she set that bottle down and chose another. This one came open easily, and with a half-hearted smile of triumph, she lifted the bottle. “To Damned Vows and Broken Promises…” She growled as a toast, and tipped the bottle to her lips. 
***
A feeling of dread had settled in Steve’s stomach as he had dropped Dustin off at his house. As he headed home, the feeling increased. He had expected the house to be dark when he arrived, with Lily having a migraine. But as he unlocked the door and stepped into the foyer, something felt very wrong about the house. He climbed the stairs to Lily’s room, surprised to find that the door was open. Maybe she is in the bathroom? His thoughts offered. “Lily?” He asked quietly, peering into the dark room. There was no answer. “Lily!?” He called, a little louder this time. His voice carried through the house, but still there was no answer. He practically flew back down the stairs, fear making his heart race. “LILY!” There was genuine panic in his voice now. He was about to throw open the front door when he heard it, faint but unmistakable. Singing. Very, very off key singing. He turned back to the kitchen, which is where he was sure it was coming from. It was muffled, almost muted. He made his way to the doorway to the kitchen. 
He found the cellar door open a crack, and the off key singing seemed to be coming from beyond it. “You staaaaand byyyy meeeeeee…..I’m fooorevvverrrr youurrrss…..” A hiccup. “Faiiiiithfullllllly…” The words trailed off with a half sob, half giggle. Steve’s heart dropped into his shoes. She was drunk. He descended the stairs carefully, as it was still pitch black at the base. The sounds of her singing got louder as he drew closer. Her words were slurred, most intelligible, but he recognized some of the lyrics. Her final words at the funeral. Forever Yours, Faithfully. He remembered another conversation he had had with her and her mention of her treasures back in Philly. One such treasure was a cassette recording of her father singing Forever Yours to her mother. Maybe it was a comfort song. Something of her father’s she could cling to. He berated himself for leaving her alone. Today was not the day for her to be left alone. First her father, and now her husband. “Lily?” He asked again, reaching his hand out to feel along the wall for the light switch. 
“FAITHFULLY!!!!” Her voice cracked and reverberated off the stone walls, clapping back and forth in the semi-close space. He found the switch, and the overhead lights came on. He found her in the corner, sitting against the wall, a bottle of whiskey clutched in her fist. Her face was bright red, her eyes swollen and puffy with tears. She blinked at the light, wincing as it speared right into her eyes. She looked awful. 
“Lily? What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself?” His words were harsher than he intended and he winced. He understood her need to escape the grief. He was only surprised it had taken her this long to resort to the numbing effects of alcohol. Part of him wondered how exactly she had managed to get into the cellar in the first place, as she had buried her lockpicking tools in the chest under Skull Rock. She stared at him, her breathing a little shallow, and raised the bottle once again to her lips. Most of it dribbled out of the corners of her mouth, joining the widening stain on her shirt. “Would it-hiccup- matter if I was? Every man I've-hiccup- ever loved…has left me…my dad…Eds--” She drew in a pained breath. Her voice was sad, defeated. "Soon enough…you will too. It's only a-hiccup-matter of time." Her voice dipped into bitterness. He crouched down to her level. "Don't talk that way. I'm not going anywhere. I made a promise to Eddie that I would look after you. To take care of You. And you are making that job very difficult.” As soon as he said it, he wished he could take the words back. She froze. 
“What? What did you just say?” Her voice was all venom. Steve sighed. “I made a promise, Lily. I made a promise to Eddie that I would look after you in the event that something happened to him. He made me promise before we split up to take on Vecna.” His words fell on her ears with all the gentleness of a jackhammer. In that moment, the alcohol she had consumed meant nothing and she was stone cold sober. 
Pain exploded in her chest anew, halting her breath in her lungs. Sobs tore from her throat, rending cries echoing all around them. Steve winced. He hadn’t meant to shoot off his mouth like that. He shifted closer to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Lily, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He began, but she cut him off. “He made you promise because he knew he was gonna die. He knew….” Her voice was hoarse, barely audible, almost a hiss. Steve shook his head. “I don’t think so…No. He made me promise just in case. He had no idea what was going to happen.” He wanted to believe that, but with Eddie, who knew. 
Her sobs tapered into hiccups, then silence, her eyes staring right through him as if he wasn’t even there. “It was all for her…always for her…” Her tone had taken a dangerous turn into emotionless, dead as the man she loved. “It was always for Chrissy, he had to be a hero for her and in the end….he chose her over me…” In a flurry of motion, she stood, tottering a little as she struggled to gain her balance. She dropped the whiskey bottle and it fell with a crash, shattering and spraying the amber liquid everywhere. Steve was forced back onto his rump, staring up at her with wide eyes. Hatred burned like acid in her stomach, her thoughts angry wasps that swarmed around her heart. “I was right…all along. It was for Chrissy. Always for her. He scratched an itch with me. That’s all.” She didn’t voice these thoughts, but they railed her from every side. She all but clawed the ring off her finger, its black stone glittering as she hurled it into the darkness. It clanged faintly as it hit the floor.  “You wanted to be with her so goddamn badly, well you did it, didn’t you! DIDN’T YOU!!!” Her voice broke into a rending sob, and even her anger couldn’t stop the torrent. Steve scrambled to his feet, gripping her arms as she swayed dangerously. 
“Lily, listen to me…Eddie loved you. Loved you enough to ask you to be his wife. IF…and that is a BIG IF, he knew he was going to die, I bet it was to protect…you. Not because he wanted to be a hero for Chrissy’s sake. I bet Chrissy didn’t even cross his mind as he faced down those bats. I guarantee he was only thinking of you.” She deflated, crumpling in on herself. She couldn’t voice the fact that she didn’t believe a word of it, for her husband’s actions had spoken louder than Steve’s words ever could. Steve pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she shook with the force of her cries. There was no sound, her grief much too deep to produce any. It was several long moments until she stopped shaking. He ran his knuckles up and down her spine, offering what comfort he could. He knew it wasn’t enough, that her pain went beyond what comfort mere touch and presence could lessen, but it was all he had. Finally, she pulled away. Her face was even more drawn, blotchy here and there with pink, her eyes bloodshot and lifeless. 
He offered her his arm. “Come on Lil, it's been a long day for the both of us. Let’s get you settled in. Ok?” She didn’t argue, but took the arm he offered, letting him lead her up the stairs. When they reached the landing, she stumbled, almost falling. He scooped her up bridal style, shocked motionless for a second by how little she weighed. It worried him, and fleetingly he wondered if he should take her to a hospital. “What good would it do?” The little voice in his head asked. Grief was doing this to her, and no hospital could help with that. Hell, he wasn’t even sure a shrink could help her right now. 
He carried her up the stairs to the second floor, and sometime during the walk, she had passed out against his shoulder. His heart ached with the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything to help her beyond being there for her and making sure she ate, slept, drank water, the basics. Everything else she would have to heal on her own. He laid her gently on the bed, debated for a moment about getting her out of her damp clothing. He crossed the hall to his room and tugged an oversized t-shirt out of one of his many drawers. He carefully pulled her damp one off, keeping his eyes on her shoulders as he helped her into the clean one. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. He laid her carefully on the pillow, pulling the covers over her. She looked so delicate laying there, almost childlike. He smoothed an unruly curl back from her face. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Steve?” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. He was surprised that it was this small touch that had woken her. “I’m here hon, I’m here.” He said gently, wondering only briefly where the endearment came from. “Will you stay with me? I…I don’t want to be alone.” Her eyes were deep green as they fixed on his. Her gaze was pleading. He was unnerved by the lack of amber fire in her eyes. “I don’t think…” He began, but the look in her eyes cut him off. She looked so lost. After another moment’s hesitation, he nodded. 
He circled around to the other side of the bed and slid in beside her. She snuggled up next to him, her back against his side. She was cold to the touch. He rolled over to curl around her, throwing his arm over her body and nuzzling into her hair. Even under the smell of whiskey, she had a light scent of honey and jasmine. His heart thumped wildly, his mind screaming for him to remove himself from the room lest he do something he would regret. But she curled her hands around his, holding his arm against her chest and he found he could not pull away. She needed him and for her, and for the promise he made, he would stay strong.
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jantea · 1 year
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Uggg someone tell me that what I have written of this one shot is good so I have the motivation to finish it. 😩
Captivity
(An angst one shot about Aizawa and Izuku escaping captivity together. ⚠️ Warning for kidnapping, MCD, medical torture, child death⚠️)
...
"Left turn, thirty seven steps, right turn, locked door..."
Aizawa had it all memorized, but it seemed to put the kid at ease to murmer the steps of their escape plan as they went.
"I'll hand you the lock picks and-"
Just so, Aizawa let go of where he was supporting Izuku's legs around his waist, trusting the kid to be strong enough to cling to his back on his own. Their lockpicks consisted of a bent needle and a long nail, both of which Izuku had stashed in his tangle of green curls. The boy extracted their tools and handed them to Aizawa, who got to work on the lock.
"This step should take between three four minuets..."
It would take less than thirty seconds, if Aizawa wasn't doing this blind and with an uncurable tremor in his hands.
"And the three other guards should have found us by the time we get it open."
Click. The door popped open with a creak, and Aizawa wasted no time dashing into the next hall as fast as he dared while blind and carrying a child on his back. Just as they planed as their first objective upon entering every new space, he felt Izuku let go of him with one arm and rear back, ready to chuck a rock at the light above them with the pinpoint accuracy that Izuku had drilled over and over in their cell, hours upon hours worth of practice paying off now as Izuku took out every light they came across, leaving their journey to be tackled in darkness, their enemies now just as blind as Aizawa.
Just before Izuku let the rock loose...ahead of them...footsteps, a lot of them running, clothes rustling, rounding the corner ahead of them.
"There they are!" A voice shouts.
"Five seven two!" Izuku shouts over the other, just as his arm snaps forward and there's an earshattering crash and an electric hum as the rock presumably passes straight through the single bulb illuminating overhead.
Five-there are five enemies, not three like they were expecting.
Seven two-the enemy's formation. There were three men rushing them directly, one of them slightly ahead of the the other two. The last two were hanging back, and one of them had jumped to hide behind the corner.
...
"Shhhhhh..." the air hissed quietly passed his chapped lips as Shouta whispered, "...you'll wake him."
Hizashi didn't answer. There was a long, weighted moment of silence.
"He's been through a lot." Shouta finally choked out, voice breaking and cracking. "He deserves to rest." Shouta ran dirty fingers through greasy green curls.
"Shouta..." Hizashi's voice was wobbly, scared. "I think we need to give him to the paramedics. I think we need to get you to the paramedics, too."
"No." Shouta's fingers tightened where they gripped a thin shoulder, pulling a small torso closer into his body. A little head rolled against his shoulder.
"Sho..." Hizashi sounded choked. He was audibly crying.
"No." Shouta panted, hunching forward. "I can't. I can't. let him. go." His breathing started comming too fast. "You can't ask me to let him go!" He wished it was possible to close his eyes even when he didn't have any. Shouta settled for tucking his head into his knees.
"...hey, heyheyhey! It's alright! It's ok!" Hizashi frantically tried to reassure. Shouta clung to the sound of his voice. "Its going to be ok, Shouta! Nobody is asking you to let the little listener go!" Hizashi was outright sobbing now.
"...Izuku." Shouta whispered into his knees.
"What's that baby?" Hizashi sniffled and leaned his ear a little closer.
"Izuku." Shouta said, a little louder. "His name. Its...Izuku." Shouta raised his head up, and hoped his wobbly wrong smile was directed at least vaugly at Hizashi's face. "You'll like him." Shouta said, a strange, soft fuzziness to his voice. "You'll love him. He's so cleaver." And then Shouta was rushing to get it all out,
"He made our plan to escape, and he helped me. In there. In that place. And I helped him. And we...we worked together, to escape...I wouldn't have made it without him. He saved me, Zashi!" Shouta clung to his husband's sleeve, outright sobbing himself now. "And I...and I...I saved...I saved him..." Shouta's shoulders shook with the force of his heaves, he almost wanted to throw up with the motion. "I saved him...! Zashi... tell me I saved him! Tell me he's asleep!" Shouta sobbed, weeping.
"...you saved him, Shouta." Hizashi's voice breathed in his ear. "You got him out of there. You did everything right. You did everything right, and you saved him, and you don't have to let him go, but babe..." here he choked, "...babe, he's not asleep. And you need to let the paramedics take care of things."
...
"He was mine!" Shouta cried out. "He was my son! He was my boy!"
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knowthingsarchive · 1 year
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❝          i can’t believe today was  real ,         ❞                 emery says quietly, her voice not quite a whisper in the darkness of their hotel room.  her eyes never leave nick’s face, roaming over his features from his eyes to the   c u r v e   of his lips to his hair.  even as she grew tired, emery didn’t want to miss a second of this day, this night, this life . . .  after all, it was the first day of the rest of their lives.
the couple had been through a lot together,  and they’d surely go through so much more.  but there is no one else she’d like to sob with,  or dance in the kitchen with in the middle of the night.  no one she’d rather spend her  worst  and  best  moments with.  she’d known that for a lot longer than nick knew.  or that she’d even been conscious of for a long time.  from the day she got on that plane to move across the country,  she’d known she was leaving part of herself behind. it hadn’t stopped her,  but in retrospect  ...  emery is willing to put money on that cat that in her heart she knew she’d be coming home.  that they’d find their way back to each other, even with a few  d e t o u r s .   and that is exactly what they did.  all the way to the alter.
emery didn’t necessarily have a  dream  wedding,  although she’d had some  wishlist  items.  the day was filled with some of those coming true,  and others compromising for nick’s wishes or just logistics. while carmen had almost tried to  instigate  some unhappiness in her sister based on things not being perfect,  emery merely disagreed.  it was perfect.  everything was perfect.  because nick was there.  and that’s all that really   m a t t e r e d .
the couple now lay,  exhausted on their hotel room.  they had mere hours before it was time to catch their flight to their honeymoon,  and they’d only grabbed the room for a few hours they were  supposed  to use to get at least a bit of sleep.  but it wasn’t so easy to close your eyes on the best day of your life.  a soft smile pulls at her lips and she wiggles a little closer to him him,  reaching out to curl her fingers around the front of nick’s shirt to pull him closer.  her eyes stay on his face before she leans in to lightly kiss him,  fingers moving from the front of his shirt to lightly dance along his jaw.        ❝         i  love  you ,          ❞      emery says softly against his lips before snuggling in a little closer, resting her head against his chest.
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starter for   —   @mythosed​  ♡​
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hinatastinygiant · 1 year
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Chapter Sixty Six
Luctus Chlosyne Janais
Pairing: Haikyuu!! x Fem!Reader
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The following morning you wake up beside Suna and drag yourself over to the small, empty gift shop where, in the back, is a kitchen.
You shuffle around, gathering some of the products you bought at the store with Kenma. You hum to yourself, in a good mood from both having a good and long night with Suna and happy that today is finally the day you'll be getting on Iwa's plane.
You walk over to the freezer to grab some of the vegetables you and Kenma picked out, but notice that the freezer door is left open. You look around, thinking that perhaps someone else is around.
"Hello?" you call out as you look behind you. "Osamu? Noya? Alisa?"
After hearing no response, you take a deep breath and look back toward the freezer. You turn on the light and step inside. There, on the left side by the floor, is Kenma leaning up against the metal post.
"Shit, what the hell," you grumble to yourself as you race toward him and kneel on the ground. "What're you doing, Kenma? Wake the fuck up. You can't sleep in here. You'll-" you then suddenly stop upon touching him. He's freezing cold.
"Kenma?" you call out softer this time as you place your hands on his shoulder. As you slide down his arms, your left hand catches on the metal post beside him. You attempt to pry his arm off, but it's frozen stuck against it.
"Kenma, wake up. This isn't funny," you then begin to freak out as you shake his lifeless body. "Seriously, wake the fuck up!" you shout before striking him against the cheek. But still, he doesn't wake up.
When it finally hits you and the realization sinks in, you stop altogether and watch him. His mouth hangs open as his head leans back as though he was gazing up at the stars.
"Fuck, Kenma, what about all that corny shit you said about meant to make it out of here? You were so fucking close. You were meant to go," you begin to break down before him, burying your head in his chest and sobbing silently. "Don't leave me..."
About an hour later, you have a burial spot picked out for him. Your appetite is completely gone, no matter how much Suna attempts to soothe you. And as you watch Hinata, Oikawa, and Osamu dig a six-foot hole, all you can do is stand in silence. You hate how much you're mad that he's done this. You should be sad, not angry, but all you can do is be mad.
He was supposed to make it. He was supposed to live.
Once the deed is done and the hole is patched up with Kenma's body buried within, Hinata slowly walks up to you and places his hand on your shoulder. Finally, you lift up your head to look at him. And to your surprise, his eyes are equally as red as yours.
"Ya know, death can't kill what never dies. As long as we keep loving him, we won't be separated from him."
"We?" you begin to ask until you notice the tear stains down his cheeks. "I mean, your right. I heard once that sadness is letting go so I guess that's a good thing," you nod quietly.
"Yeah," he sniffs as he looks back at the recently patched-up hole. "I'm going inside. If you need me I'll be at gate 25 if you need me."
"Okay," you whisper just before watching him walk off. Maybe you should have been paying closer attention to a lot more people you're around. Oikawa then soon follows after, walking out with Suna, and leaving you alone with Osamu.
"What a journey we've been on," you huff as you walk toward him.
"What happened to you crying? Though you were sad," he says, calling you out right away.
"I love Kenma, but that doesn't mean I'm not pissed same as the other times. None of this would've happened if we were ditched here like fucking animals," you tell him.
"You can't blame everything on the fucking government, Y/N," he shakes his head.
"You're right. It was Bokuto's fault the other times. Maybe even this time, too. If Kuroo was still around then-"
"You can't say any of this for sure. Y/N you just said 'maybe'. Eventually you'll realize that we are where we are because of our own doing. We can't blame other people for the lives we make for ourselves. What he did is a result of his own choices. If you don't like it, then make your own choice. Mourn your friend, Y/N, then pick yourself up and lead your life the way you want to."
"I'm sorry," you shake your head. "It's just so easy to blame something for everything that happens."
"Yeah, well, you'll figure it all out. I'll leave you to it," he then nods just before he pats you on the shoulder and walks back inside the airport.
"Well shit," you curse to yourself once you're finally alone. "I wish I saw this coming, Kenma," you then sigh. You walk closer to the fresh patch of dirt for the first time and sit right beside it.
"You never really told me about you and Kuroo, like before the outage, but I can imagine the two of you. I bet you grew up together, probably sat next to each other in class. Did the science project together," you smile softly at the thought.
"You told me that you'd visit him often. That you even brought that porno without knowing it. I bet that wasn't the only time you did that," you chuckle to yourself. "I meant what I said the other day. It really was obvious how much he cared about you... Fuck, I hope you're with him right now."
You then spend some time outside until the sun is the highest in the sky and a harsh breeze makes you shiver. Realizing that it's time to go, you stand up and look back down at the burial spot.
"I wish I could bring you with me," you whisper to him. "Rest peacefully, Kenma."
Just then, you hear a door open nearby and you wipe your eyes. When you turn around, you see Suna walking up to you.
"What is it?" you ask as you wipe your nose with your sleeve.
"It's started. He got it off the ground. Let's go."
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zombiesun · 3 years
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watching nomadland and there’s this part where an old woman talks about the memory in her life that made her think “if I died tomorrow, I had lived enough” and it’s had me really thinking about the memories that made me feel that way. I really do think life has a lot less to do with achieving anything or finding success and more about having a moment so beautiful and impactful that your soul finds itself no longer restless for meaning. 
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landinoandco · 3 years
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Could I ask for a Max Verstappen request?
Where you get all excited to tell him you’re pregnant and it doesn’t go well. Could you make it super angsty
Of course you can :) here you go, I hope you enjoy! 
Max Verstappen x reader 
Warnings: angst but with fluff at the end
Word count: 2.2 k 
Requests are open...
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Baby, the future is ours
At last the summer break had rolled around again, to the relief of the Formula one drivers and crew, they had 3 long weeks ahead of them to fill with whatever they deemed stress-free or relaxing. The subject of activity depending on person to person - most sane folk tended to stick to a holiday to Greece or if you were an adrenaline junkie like Daniel Ricciardo jumping out of planes or BMX biking. You had lost count of the times Max - your boyfriend - had rushed in to tell you about all of the exciting things his best friend had gotten up to as of late. 
You and Max had decided to take a break and travel to a cosy, quiet part of Italy - to escape the press, the stress and most importantly the eagle eye of social media. It would just be you and him for a few weeks before reality brought you back to Milton Keynes in the shape of Christian Horner and his motley crew. 
You and Max had met in 2018 at a gala event Redbull had hosted, Pierre Gasly - being a close friend of yours - had introduced you two and to say the pair of you hit it off instantly was an understatement, whether it was a mixture of the Dutch meets British humour you had no clue but you weren’t one to complain. A few months later and Max had asked you to travel around the world with him - you did so willingly and life had been nearing perfect ever since. Of course you had your ups and downs, where the universe seemed to really test not only your love for one and other but your patience. A few arguments had shown you that both being hot-headed never ended well. 
You were sat out on the balcony, a book in hand and looking out into the Italien countryside. Max had left for a run and to explore the local village, leaving you, your thoughts and your growing baby. You were pregnant - you had taken the test just before flying out, this meant that Max wasn’t aware. You hadn’t told him yet and you had no clue how you were going to. As it turns out telling your partner you were pregnant was easier said than done - ironically. 
You and Max hadn’t had the baby talk yet - you had but only along the lines of: “one day, when we’re older and married and driving isn’t the main priority anymore.” Those were Max’s words. He wanted to be there for his child, to watch him or her grow, to see every milestone but most importantly to be a good and nurturing father. 
There was part of you that was slightly worried because you just didn’t know how Max would take it - you couldn’t keep it in any longer though. You had to tell him. There was another part of you that was excited - from a very young age you knew you wanted to have a family of your own with the person you loved the most. Call it childish naivety. At this point in time, you were ready to become a mother - well as ready as anyone ever could be. 
Placing your book onto the table, you made your way into the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it. Sighing loudly as you leant onto the countertop. 
“That was a loud sigh.” A voice called out from behind you. You recognised it instantly. Whipping your head around, you saw Max standing there, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 
Chuckling, you hit back, “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to you and wrapped his arms around your middle, placing a sweet, chaste kiss onto the side of your head. Leaning into his warm embrace, you let out another long but content sigh. 
“Seriously, what is it with you and sighing today.” Max uttered, his lips still against the side of your head. 
You went to move forward, out of his welcoming embrace. You knew what you had to do. 
“There’s something I need to tell you.” Instantly the atmosphere changed, you could feel Max stiffen behind you. Maybe the tone you chose to make that comment in was too serious but it was now or never. 
“Haha, which of your friends is pregnant this time.” He quipped jokingly, trying to break the tension. 
Instantly you knew the way the conversation was going to end, a pang of hurt felt in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, catching your lip with your teeth. He stood there with an air of innocence and unknown, concern dancing in his eyes - he went to reach his arm out to you, to offer that encouragement. 
You braved the words that came out of your lips, “Me.” You almost whispered. Time seemed to slow. Max dropped his arm and instantly took a step back. 
“Pardon.” Was the only thing he could force out of his mouth, his throat seemed to close up and his hands went clammy. He definitely heard you the first time but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t a night terror. A bad dream he had failed to wake from. 
“I am, Max,” You said again, your voice wavering. 
“Oh.” He stated, his face drained of colour, his mouth set in a straight line. 
“Is that all you have to say.” You swallowed thickly, your eyes swam with tears. You had a hunch this was how it was going to end but it didn’t stop is from hurting the way it did. You had hoped he would have proved you wrong, to have wrapped his arms around you and to have spun you around. To have laughed. To have cried. To have shown a little more excitement to the fact you were now carrying his child. His first child. 
You moved past him and sat down on one of the wooden chairs, rubbing your hands over your face. He was still stood there. His eyes fixated on the view out of the window. No emotion read in his eyes. It was almost like you had hit the ‘off’ button. He tapped his foot and made a clicking noise with his mouth before turning around to face you - meeting your gaze. 
“How long have you known.” His voice was hoarse.
“A couple of days before we flew out.” You answered him, moving your face back to rest in your hands. 
There was a pause. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner.”
You took a breath, looking him dead in the eye. “Because I knew this was how you were going to react.” You didn’t trust your voice at all, you also didn’t know whether you wanted to scream at him or cry in the corner. 
“Right.” Was all he said. Still stood there like some awkward teenager after a rather large telling off from their mother. 
“Is that all you have to say to me?” You asked him, nostrils flaring. You were allowed to be angry, right? 
“What do you expect me to say.” He rounded on you, his voice raising more than was necessary. Tears had spilled down your cheeks, you didn’t have the energy to fight back. As soon as he realised the effect this was having on you, he went to move forward again, his eyes softening instantly. “I’m sorry - I - I shouldn’t have raised my-”
“Get out, Max.” You stated lowly. By this point, you had stood up, shuddering away from his desperate grasp. He knew he had made a mistake. You knew he regretted it, the moment the words had left his mouth. 
“Get out?” He repeated quietly, his voice cracking, you could see tears glazing his vision. 
“Just - please, go on a walk - come back once you have more to say to me.” You spat.
“But - But I already have more to say-” You cut his rambling off once again. 
“Please. Max.” You insisted, your voice betraying you again. “Go.” You whispered. 
Max stormed out of the door, ensuring to slam it so hard the chandelier on the ceiling swung precariously. You sank back into your chair and let out a loud sob, unable to hold it in any longer. 
Max was mad. Not at you, that would be unfair. He was mad at himself. At the world. At everything actually because at this point why the hell not. You were pregnant - don’t get him wrong, he was over the moon. He was going to be a dad. 
It was too soon. 
He still had his full F1 career ahead of him. A promising and long F1 career as a matter of fact. He wanted a baby to be his main priority and he wanted to share those one in a lifetime moments with you. He knew there was no point in being mad, it wasn’t like they were in a position where they couldn’t have a child. They had plenty of things to offer, a nurturing home with parents who were head over heels in love with each other and a large family - blood and not - who would be willing to support and love the child as if it was their own. Max really was in love with you. He knew it would be you to mother his children in the end, he just didn’t think it would be now. 
He reached for his phone, went into his contacts and pressed on the number that read the name: “D.R new phone.” Whilst it wasn’t adventurous like many thought it would be, it saved the confusion from calling a number that no longer existed. 
Daniel picked up on the second ring. “Hey dude, how’s it going?” 
“Not good at all, Dan, not good at all.” Max admitted, his voice wavering once again. He explained the events that had happened a mere 5 minutes ago, the way he reacted and the way he left you. Hurt and alone.
“I’m not going to lie to you, mate, you’ve fucked up big time.” Dan spoke after what felt like a loud silence. After all, Daniel knew you just as well as he knew Max. 
“I know. I know I have, do you think I’ve been selfish?” He asked, his tone full of raw emotion. 
“Yes.” Dan stated simply, “I think you have been, especially since she even told you this is how she thought you would react. How much stress do you think she had been putting on herself? Come one, I’ve taught you to be better than this.” Daniel paused, Max could almost hear him place his thumb and ring finger onto the bridge of his nose. “You know, just as well as I know, she knows it isn’t the best time. Her becoming pregnant is very much a two person job, I think it’s time that you go back to her and have a conversation like the adult I know you are.” 
In that moment, Max was so grateful to have someone like Dan just a call away. “Thank you, Dan. Really. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 
“Alright Mr Father-to-be, don’t be going all soppy on me now.” Daniel joked, returning back to his normal teasing. That was the best thing about Daniel, he was quite useful when you needed him to be. 
“You can count yourself on being the godfather after that.” Max added, a large beaming smile plastered onto his face. 
He heard Dan let out a loud laugh, “Go on, leave me be. Good luck, mate, let me know how it goes and when the time is right tell her I say congrats.” 
“Of course, mate. Thank you, again.” Max muttered, looking back in the direction of the villa. After he hung up, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and ambled slowly - working out exactly what he was going to say to you. 
Once he had opened the door, he called out to you. “Babe?” He heard a sniffle in response. You were still slumped on the chair in the kitchen, shooting daggers at the cupboard opposite. 
Max sat opposite you, reaching out for your hand. Grudgingly you let him take it, you blinked and he took a deep breath before a large, beaming smile crept onto his face.
“We’re going to be parents.” He rubbed the back of your hand, speaking tentatively. You nodded, your lower lip trembled. Max stood up, still keeping a hold of your hand as he gave it a slight tug, indicating that you should stand up. You made your way into his embrace, his arms wrapping securely around you, tucking your face into the crook of your neck as he rocked gently side to side, burying his face into your hair. He then moved his hands to cradle your face, wiping the stray tears away before peppering your face with feather light kisses. 
“We’re going to be parents.” He repeated, a little louder and to this you let out another sob, laughing as he picked you up and spun you around. 
“I’m sorry. I was being selfish.” He said, as he wrapped you back up into his arms. You smiled into his chest. In that moment, you couldn’t be happier. It was like all of your childhood dreams had come true. In that kitchen stood your new family, mismatched and sometimes a little bit broken but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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Note
could you write about spencer having a hard night and trying not to self harm and hotch is being just the best boyfriend ever. also just sharing scars is one of my favorite things.
i love everything you write❤️❤️❤️❤️
cw: referenced self harm
-
When the team boards the jet to go home, Spencer isolates himself at one end of the plane and sits still, his arms wrapped around his waist, staring out the window. He doesn't respond to anyone, barely shaking his head when Aaron asks if he wants company, so Aaron leaves him alone.
Once they land, everyone makes their way back to the office. Aaron waits behind for Spencer, who’s the last one off the jet. He puts a hand gently on Spencer’s shoulder and pulls him aside.
“You okay, baby?” he whispers, officially off duty and free to treat his boyfriend as such.
“Uh-huh,” Spencer replies quickly. “Yeah, ‘m fine.” He doesn’t make eye contact.
“Why don’t you come home with me?” Aaron suggests, still worried about him, but Spencer shakes his head.
“No, I’m fine, really,” he repeats. “I should go home tonight.”
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
“No! I mean, no, you don’t have to do that.” Spencer is wringing his hands absently. He holds onto the strap of his bag and steps away from Aaron. “I’ll see you later,” he says.
“Okay,” Aaron sighs, but it’s not okay, Spencer’s not okay, he knows that for sure now.
He goes home and tries to ignore his worry, but he can’t stop, not as he eats dinner or gets ready for bed. He’s about to pick up the phone to call when it rings, vibrating against his nightstand.
“Spencer?”
“Could you come over after all?” Spencer quietly sobs.
“I’m on my way,” Aaron assures him, throwing on a coat as he hangs up the phone and nearly running out to the car. He makes it to Spencer’s in record time.
He lets himself into the apartment with the key Spencer gave him when they started dating. It’s dark, but there’s a light coming from Spencer’s bathroom, so that’s where Aaron heads.
“Spencer?” he calls, knocking lightly on the locked door. He doesn’t have a key to this one. “Can I come in?”
There’s a small click and the door opens. Spencer stands in the doorway in a t-shirt and sleep pants, his hair disheveled, tear streaks and dark circles beneath his eyes. His right hand is holding a switchblade.
“Baby,” Aaron says softly. He reaches out, and Spencer closes the knife with trembling hands and drops it into Aaron’s open palm. “Did you…”
Spencer shakes his head. “Not yet,” he whispers. “I was going to, but…I didn’t.”
“I’m proud of you.”
Aaron slips the switchblade into his pocket and takes Spencer by the hand, leading him into the kitchen and turning on the kettle for tea. He settles Spencer down on the couch and wraps a blanket around his shoulders. He doesn’t say another word until the tea is ready and poured and he’s handed a cup to Spencer.
“All right,” he says, sitting down at the other end of the couch. “Do you want to talk about what’s going on?”
Spencer shakes his head.
“Please?” Aaron sets down his tea and reaches for Spencer’s hand. He pulls it toward him until Spencer’s hand is in his lap, and then Aaron gently traces a finger over the scars that criss-cross his arm from wrist to shoulder.
“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, pulling his arm back.
“Spence, you don’t need to apologize.”
Spencer stares into his tea.
“It was a hard case,” he finally says.
“I know.”
“I should have let you help me when you reached out.”
“Hey.” Aaron scoots over until he’s right next to Spencer, until he can put both arms around him and hold him close. “You’re letting me help you now, aren’t you?”
Spencer nods.
“Then you don’t need to apologize,” Aaron points out. “What do you need right now? How can I help?”
“Just…” Spencer waves one hand around. “This. This is enough. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Thank you.” He sniffles.
“You're welcome."
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hockeyshitandstuff · 3 years
Text
Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 1)
part two here
part three here
word count: 1860 words
TW: language, angst (?)
let me know if you want part two, I’m somehow still not sure
...
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It was so hot that day. The movers were already gone, the place feeling empty without all the furniture. In a few hours, you'd be long gone, flying far away from Chesterfield.
Some small part of you felt sorry for selling your parents' house - the house you spent your whole childhood living in. But they moved out a few years ago and told you many times they didn't mind at all selling it.
Wiping the sweat off of your eyebrows you made your way through the blooming garden, trying to memorize every little detail. You remembered climbing this tree, you remembered the hole in the fence you made so the neighbour's dog could come play with you, you remembered the time capsule you and Matt buried here when you were fifteen.
Until now, you completely forgot about that. Even though you two didn't talk after he got drafted, it'd be a good idea to meet again since you might never see him again. You might be moving to Calgary but that city was so big it'd be a miracle to meet Matthew somewhere.
So you scrolled through your phone, praying he didn't change his number after all those years as you dialed it.
The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.
"Yes?"
Matthew's voice was so different since the last time you talked.
"Hey Matt, this is Y/N, I'm moving out today and I thought we could dig up the time capsule we buried at my place as kids before I leave. Are you in town?" It was off-season so you might get lucky.
"You are moving out already? But yeah, I can meet you in an hour if you have the time."
"Yes, I'll still be here, don't worry."
"Okay..." There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of you knew how to break it. Was it a bad idea? Of course you wouldn't be as good friends as you once were. But you didn't know it would be this... weird. He didn't say goodbye back when he left to Calgary and didn't answer to any of your calls or messages. What were you thinking? That he wanted to see you?
"So, where are you moving to?" Matt finally continued, making the conversation more bareable.
"Calgary, they offered me an amazing job there."
"Really? I've been there for a few years."
"I heard." Not from you, was what you didn't say. It seemed like he'd heard it nonetheless.
Silence. You hated how distant you've grown - once, a long time ago, you were best friends. You went together to kindergarden and since then you've been the best of best friends. But even after all you went through, you didn't know what to say.
"Nevermind, I have to get going. I'll be at your place at three, okay?"
"Okay. I'll meet you there."
As you hung up, sadness enveloped you. Maybe you shouldn't have called. Maybe it'd be better to never meet Matt again, to remember only the good old times.
But he might be already on his way and you wanted to say a proper goodbye before going far, far away.
You loved him once, you recalled. It broke your heart when he left without looking back.
It irritated you that you couldn't do the same as easily.
...
"Y/N?" a now familiar voice called, the sound of closing car doors echoing through the silent street.
Matt looked same as he did four years ago and still totally different. It was like staring at a stranger you could swear you've already seen before. The curly, those pretty grey-blue eyes and the crooked smile you remembered and thought about too often. He got taller and more mascular over the time he played hockey professionally.
"Hey," you said nervously, tucking your slightly trembling hands into the pockets of your shorts.
Again, that uncomfortable silence took place.
"How long is it?" Since you've last seen each other. Since he'd ignored your calls and messages. Since he'd left you crying as he left this town - as he left you.
"Five years," you said.
Regret flashed in those pretty eyes as he took you in. Did you look to him the same as you did the last time he saw you?
"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was it? After five fucking years of silence, this was his apology for everything. This was a mistake. You didn't think it through when you called him today. Just now you started remembering all the things he's done to you.
"That doesn't make it hurt less, does it?" You whipped around, going to the line of fruit trees where you left the two shovels you borrowed from the neighbour.
Matt's hand slightly gripped your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.
"I know that I made a bunch of wrong decisions before I left."
"I've been trying for 6 months to reach you before giving up completely. And you? You've been living the best version of your life anyone could ever imagine."
"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said and you wanted to leave right then, forget this stupid meeting.
"I do not." you hissed, trying to calm down your rising temper.
Matt sighed, not wanting to argue over this. So he made his way to the tree line, picked one shovel from the ground and started digging where he remembered the time capsule was.
You didn't help him dig it up. You were too lost in memories, clinging to the past as you thought of younger version of Matt.
The clang of metal on metal attracted your attention back to him. He grunted as he pulled up the metal box and laid it on the grass.
You ducked low next to him, dusting off the dirt of the box. It was an old, weirdly dented thing.  Your eyes laid on the lock and you nearly sighed in annoyance just when Matt grabbed at his necklace, the key dangling from it. When you two buried the capsule, each of you got a key made for it. You had yours somewhere in the boxes that had already been shipped to your new apartment and Matt's... he didn't forget. He kept it through the years, guarding it and not losing it as you expected.
You didn't say anything, just patiently waited for him to open the box.
There was a letter inside, along with a bunch of things you thought of as long forgotten. Your bracelets of friendship, the colors faded already; a puck with which you and Matthew played your first hockey game together when you were six; so many polaroid photos with your faces on them; USB with a playlist you two always danced to.
Your eyes watered - how were you supposed to say goodbye to all of this?
Silently, you looked over all of the photos - you and Matt in the rink with small hockey sticks and skates, you and Matt sticking out your tongues colored blue with slushies, you and Matt, you and Matt, you and Matt...
Then Matthew's hand found yours, your fingers automatically intertwining with his. You started crying, first silently but then the sobs shook with your whole body.
"Come here," he murmured, hugging you. His body was so soft and warm, as if begging you to lean into his touch.
"How- how could you leave this all behind?" you mumbled between the sobs.
"It's not leaving if you don't say goodbye." Matt said, his fingers playing with yours.
"Then you are a fucking coward, Matthew."
Silence. He didn't argue with you on that, so you must have been right.
You stopped crying after a while, checking your watch while wiping your nose.
Shit. It was so late already - you had to call an uber to get you to the airport in the next hour or you'd be super late.
"I'll have to go," you said quietly, but Matt interrupted you.
"You are right," he tucked on the edge of his shirt, clearly nervous. He was nervous. "I was a coward. I thought that if I didn't say goodbye to you as I left, it'd hurt less. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward for not picking up your calls or replying to your messages because it would make it so real - that I was leaving and probably never coming back. But I want to make it all right again, I want to be a part of your life - if you will let me."
You thought about his offer and still, you couldn't answer. You weren't sure about letting him into your heart just for him to storm out again without a goodbye, leaving you behind, broken.
"Can I at least take you to the airport?" To that, you nodded, picking up the time capsule, putting all the items back in. Then you gave back the lent shovels to your neighbour and with a last glance at your house, you got into Matt's car.
...
On the way to the airport Matt played the playlist from the USB that was in the time capsule and the nostalgy hit you hard.
You remembered the lyrics, the melody; you remembered everything.
The drive was too short and you started panicking as the engine stopped.
Matthew helped you with your suitcase and went inside with you. The two of you stopped at the first gate.
"Here," he said, giving you a piece of paper. "It's my adress. Hopefully, you won't live so far away, so we could meet there if you wanted to."
You tucked it in your pocket without a word.
"Also, take this. I wrote it in ninth grade so don't think much of it. But I want you to read it, Y/N."
It was the letter from the time capsule, with your name on the blank envelope.
"I will." you promised.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time.
"I'll let you know my decision about what you said earlier. I just... I need some time."
Matt noded, giving you the space you so desperately needed.
"So, until we meet again - goodbye, Y/N."
"Goodbye, Matt."
...
The plane took off and you finally had the time to read the letter he gave you.
You immediately recognised his scrambled handwriting and you smiled at how messy it was before you started reading.
Dear Y/N,
I'm writing this in case I leave. Dad has been telling me for some time already that if I'll get drafted, I'll have to leave. He also said that if I'll be smart, I will never look back at my past.
I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future.
He said I'll meet a lot of girls but I know that none of them is going to be like you.
So, I promise you, I will never say goodbye to you.
I love you,
Matt
With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone, the tears already staining the screen.
That's why he never said goodbye. Because of this stupid letter and his stupid promise.
The phone rang once before he picked it up.
"Y/N? What is it?"
A ragged breath escaped you and you laughed and cried at the same time.
"I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future."
"Oh, that was cheesy, wasn't it-"
"No, you dumbass. That's my answer."
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mrskurono · 3 years
Note
High-key can't stop thinking about Atsumu having to go overseas for a game and he's at his hotel room and missing his mommy so he calls her but can't speak bc he's overwhelmed and all she hears is him sniffling quietly and "mommy" and she coos at him and stay on the phone until he falls asleep and I just-
Atsumu is the biggest sub to ever sub and I want to peg him and call him a pretty baby boy and see him blush and try to hide his face
(also, I love that you took it out of the bedroom and into other aspects of his life)
*screams like a fucking pterodactyl into a pillow for five hundred years*
ANON JUST HOLD UP ARE YOU MAKING ME SOFT ON MY BOTTOM
You lavish him in kisses sex and love before he goes but it just isn’t enough. (Not to mention the sobbing fit he had getting on the plane bc he can’t even bring is special mommy drink with him so he’s really leaving mommy behind) 
Atsumu always brings something of yours along with him. Normally a shirt. Something that smells like you. It helps, kinda. But you always see his name light up in your phone exactly when you know he should be sleeping. Baby boys need their rest and you always tell him that he needs to be rested for a game but ‘Tsumu never listens.
You answer him bc he is your baby and all you’re met with is held back sniffling on the other side of the phone. Atsumu is quiet for a little bit. But then tells you he misses you so much and he wants to come home. Depending on the time, you ask him if he wants to video chat. Of course he does.
It’s clear (as it is every time) that he’s been crying. Cute face tucked into whatever hotel bed with phone propped up so you only see his teary big brown eyes. You ask him if he’s got mommy’s keepsake. ‘Tsumu nods and shows you the wad of your familiar piece of clothing. He’s got it pressed up against his cheek and proceeds to bury his face into it. 
The big ol’ cry baby. Going on about how much he misses you and that he wants to come home bc you’re not there with him. He can’t sleep with mommy somewhere else and just a whole slough of reasons why he “can’t be here right now” And as much as your heart hurts for you baby to be with you, you gotta be a good mommy and tell him how much fun he’ll have and how good at volleyball he is. Atsumu kinda buys it but still is sniffling into your shirt. That’s when you always have to sigh and promise him that when he’s back you won’t wear any bra for an entire day. Meaning he can have at mommy’s breasts whenever he wants and Atsumu’s face would light up at the idea of free nursing all day long. It’s just enough to push him through his overseas game. But you bet the second he steps off that plane he’s back to clinging to you with his face buried in your neck.
Nights after he’s come back home are always particularly soft and clingy but he’s filled with so much need (he never touches himself when he’s away, he just can’t stomach the idea without you) that you can’t help but pull him into your lap. Atsumu almost always cums hands free when he’s sat all the way down on your strap. His long legs wrapped around your waist and his arms around your shoulders as he grinds on the toy and presses his face into your neck. Mumbling how much he missed mommy and loves you. On and on until he’s got his dick twitching and he’s sobbing and overstimming himself because he won’t quit moving on the toy. He just needs you so desperately bad to take care of him that he’ll overstim himself to the point of shooting blanks if you let your baby boy have his way. That’s why he needs mommy to regulate for him so sweet ‘Tsumu doesn’t cum too much and he gets to still feel the inside warmth of mommy’s cunt after some good pegging <3
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rhysismydaddy · 3 years
Text
Prisoner's Game Pt. 4 (Rowaelin)
THANK YALL FOR BEING PATIENT I AM SO SORRY
Parts 1 \ 2 \ 3
________________________________
Journal Entry #2000
Sometimes I think it wouldn't be so bad to die.
To leave this island forever and not have to worry about being discovered anymore.
I wasn't always this macabre, but two thousand days of checking over my shoulder and wishing for a man's murder has dulled the wishful excitement I felt when I first got here.
Five years ago, I was grateful to even be alive.
I couldn't believe a stranger give up everything for me and the others--couldn't believe she'd agree to fight this battle because of my decision.
I have to actually remind myself to still be grateful to her, if I'm being honest.
Because sometimes I think about that night all those years ago, when she showed up in the darkest part of the night to kill me. When she'd held the knife with a trembling hand and told me that the price for betraying Arobynn Hamel was my life. When we discovered together that she couldn't bring herself to kill me.
Sometimes I think it would be better if she would've just done it.
At least it would've been over.
At least I wouldn't have to spend years on an island, living the same day over and over again. I think that's what's driving me mad, beyond anything else.
The predictability of my time.
Every day, I follow the same routine. The routine she laid out for me in a hushed whisper.
I wake up and go to the small café a mile down the road to watch the news. And every day, I pray to see Arobynn Hamel's face next to to the words, "Breaking news: billionaire crime boss found dead."
Because that was her only stipulation.
That the ten of us would stay on the island, hidden from sight, until news of his death was announced. In exchange, we got to live.
She'd warned me it would take a long time.
She'd told me to not get complacent.
And then she'd whispered what she planned to do.
Even now, over five years later, the words she'd whispered while shoving a plane ticket and a new passport into my hands were crystal clear.
"The devil isn't going to go down easy."
~Aelin~
The shaft of her recently-fashioned shiv was cold in her hand as she silently grabbed it from under her pillow.
The soft clink of the bars shutting again told her whoever had just snuck in her cell was now locked in with her.
Unfortunate for them.
She wasn't afforded the luxury of a clock, but she knew it was the middle of the night. Normal visiting hours were far over. There was no one here but the bored night guards, four janitorial staff, and rows and rows of sleeping inmates.
And the idiot trying to sneak up behind her bed.
She kept her eyes closed as she listened to the quiet steps walk closer and closer. Right when she was about to turn around and attack, they stopped.
Then the weirdest thing happened. It sounded like whoever it was slid down the wall directly across from her bed.
A killer wouldn't do that.
Curiosity piqued, Aelin turned her head to see who and what was going on.
It was dark in the cell, but she'd recognize that shock of silver hair anywhere.
"Rowan?" she whispered, so quietly she almost didn't even hear herself. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't respond, but the way his muscles tensed told her he'd heard her.
Slowly, she sat up so she could see him better and maybe figure out what was going on.
For the first time in a long time, he looked less than perfect. Far less than it, actually.
His hair was going every possible direction, like he'd been running hands through it and pulling on it. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, rumpled dress slacks, and tennishoes that weren't even tied.
But that wasn't what worried her most. It was the way he was sitting completely still and silent.
He didn't even look like he was breathing.
"Hey," she tried again. "What's going on? Look at me."
Another few heartbeats passed, and then he slowly shook his head.
"Please, Rowan. Just look at me."
He winced, like hearing her say his name physically hurt him.
And then his head came up.
Deep green eyes met hers, and even though it was what she'd wanted, what she'd needed, Aelin instantly wished he'd look away.
Because with one look, she knew he'd figured it out.
He knew, and the pain and turmoil in his eyes... she'd put that there.
She'd seen him angry and sad and happy and everything in between, but she'd never seen him, or anyone else, look so broken.
He looked completely and utterly broken as he sat before her.
"Rowan," she whispered, shaking her head even though she didn't know why.
He bowed his head again, seemingly unable to even look at her.
"Ro," she whispered, dropping to her knees in front of him.
Almost like the old nickname broke something inside him, Rowan's shoulders started to shake.
And then he sobbed.
It was the kind of sob that couldn't possibly be held in. The kind that made her heart clench and tears brew in her own eyes, the kind that told her how much pain he was in.
Tears ran down her cheeks as she put a hand on his arm. He shook off the touch like it burned him and looked up at her again.
"I ruined your life," he croaked, the tears on his face reeking of self-hatred. "I ruined your life."
She shook her head. "No, you didn't."
Anger bled into his tone. "I put you in prison for eight years for murdering people who aren't even fucking dead, Aelin. I didn't listen to you, didn't look hard enough. I've had the clues you left me for eight years. We were in love, and I didn't even try hard enough to... I... please explain to me how I didn't ruin your life."
"You did not ruin my life, Rowan," she told him again, meaning every word.
"Eight years of your life, gone because of me. I don't even understand how you can look at me." He huffed a laugh, but he was far from amused. "No wonder you hate me."
His chest was heaving, his hands were in fists, and his stubble-crested jaw was damp with tears.
And she'd thought he hadn't cared.
Aelin felt like a fool--a horrible, stupid fool--for ever doubting him. For thinking him indignant.
Because this was technically what she'd wanted. What she'd planned to happen.
She'd wanted it to hurt, had wanted him to feel an ounce of what she'd felt when he'd led the case against her.
But it wasn't what she wanted anymore.
Moving slowly, Aelin crawled onto his lap, put her hands on the side of his face, and lifted his gaze to hers while she said, "Arobynn Hamel ruined my life, not you."
He shook his head, breathing heavily. "No-"
She cut him off by wrapping herself around him.
Like she was trying to heal physical wounds, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head to her chest. She sank into him until there wasn't an inch of space between them. Her hands wandered over his back as she held him tight to her.
He was stiffer than a board at first, but eventually he sagged against her, wrapping his arms around her in return.
It was like he was drowning in the sea, and she was the only thing preventing him from being swept away. He shook, his entire body trembling, and his arms became a vice around her.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered after a moment.
She shook her head, but it didn't matter. He said it again, and again, and again, until his voice was hoarse and broken.
Aelin ran her hands over his back slowly, and just held him as pain he'd felt for eight years seemed to reach a crest.
Eventually he stopped crying and just laid against her, warm breath fanning across her collarbone.
"I'm so sorry, Aelin," he whispered yet again.
"Please stop saying that. None of this is your fault. You aren't the reason I'm in prison."
"Yes, I am," he insisted, shifting beneath her. "But I'm getting you out right now."
He looked up, eyes bright with new-found purpose, and wiped the tears off his cheeks like they were distracting him.
"What?"
He nodded quickly. "We can bring those people back, and you can get your life back. I know it's not the same, and I know I can't get you these years back, but-"
"No."
He paused. "No?"
She shook her head. "I can't leave yet."
"Leave? What the hell does that mean?"
"It means I still have shit to do here. I'm not leaving before it's done."
His eyes narrowed. "You're acting like this is a hotel, not a high-security prison. And what do you even mean?"
Aelin had the good sense to feel a little guilty as she slowly got to her feet and walked to the wall at the back of the cell. A few well-placed taps later, it swung open.
Rowan's mouth dropped open, then closed, then repeated the whole routine like he couldn't decide what to say first.
He apparently figured it out, because it opened again so he accuse, "I knew you were robbing me! Where the fuck is my bed?"
She sighed and rubbed her temples. "That's what you care about right now? Seriously?"
He grumbled something as he got to his feet and leaned into the makeshift doorway in the wall.
It took him a few moments to examine the ladder leading down to the tunnel, and then he straightened and looked at her again with a mixture of confusion, awe, and understanding on his face.
"You've been sneaking out this whole time."
She nodded.
Most of her escapes had been in the past six months, but she'd occasionally left in the years before to check on something or track down a lead.
"You beat up your roommate so they'd put you back in solitary."
Aelin nodded again.
"But how did you know they'd bring you to this cell?"
A small smile pulled on her lips. "Look again," she told him, gesturing towards the open brick door.
He stuck his head in the hole again and couldn't stifle his surprised intake of breath as he saw the other ladders.
He came back in the cell, and the expression on his face made her bite her lip to hold back a smile. "You... you tunneled into prison?"
"Into every solitary cell," she confirmed.
"When? Why?"
"One of my old jobs for Arobynn was to break a client of his out of solitary. I knew which cell he was in, but... getting locked up is kind of a right of passage for my former career, so I figured I'd plan ahead and give myself a way out, should I ever need it." She smiled. "Hamel never could figure out how I did it, so it's safe for me to use now."
Rowan spent a long moment looking at her. "That's... genius."
"I tend to be," she agreed.
They were both silent for a minute, then he said, "You need to tell me everything. Enough of both of us wasting time assuming what the other is thinking. We need to get everything out in the open, and we need to do it now."
Aelin nodded, knowing it was true.
It was time to either finally trust him or kill him, and just the thought of the latter made something inside of her twist so hard she felt nauseous.
She nodded to the tunnel, not wanting to have the following conversation overheard by any prying ears. He nodded and followed her down, closing the door behind him.
When she knew they were alone, she started to explain.
"Maddison Kliff, my first so-called victim, funded her campaign for senator with money from Arobynn Hamel."
Rowan's eyebrows went up in surprise, but he nodded for her continue.
"He gave it to her, with the caveat that when she won, she'd vote against renewable energy for Rifthold. He has millions in oil, so when she did the exact opposite and voted for the green plan that switched the city to 70% electric, he took a pretty hard hit." She took a deep breath. "The day after the vote, I got my orders to kill her."
His jaw clenched.
"I went that night, thinking I could do it. Thinking I'd get it over with and never think about it again. I snuck in her townhouse and had everything set up." She let out a laugh. "But then I realized my deal with Arobynn covered ten of Sam's jobs. If I killed Maddison, and did a good enough job of it to get away with it, I knew he'd put nine more names on the list."
"So you didn't do it," Rowan said, like he already knew but needed to hear her say it.
"So I didn't do it."
Aelin ran a hand through her hair, starting to pace. "I ran. And then I went back the next night with a suitcase, a new ID for her, and a plan."
"Why Aruba?" he asked.
"I'd done all that research for our trip," she said, a pang of sadness shooting through her at the memory of planning their first vacation together. "I didn't have time to research another place. And I never told you, but the house I wanted us to rent? You kind of... own it."
"I own a house in Aruba," he repeated slowly, his tone making it clear he didn't understand.
She rolled her eyes at his tone. "Arobynn might be a bastard I'd love to put in a grave, but he paid me well. I was eighteen and didn't know what else to do with the money. So I bought a house."
"In Aruba. In my name."
She nodded. "No one can trace it back to you. It's hidden in an off-shore corporation, owed by another off-shore corporation, but technically, yes, you're the owner. It was going to be your Christmas present."
"You bought me a house," his lips twitched. "For a Christmas present."
"I was in love with you," she muttered. Then pointed out, "My lack of shopping impulse control really isn't the point of the story."
He rolled his eyes, still fighting a grin at her antics. "Please continue."
"Right. So I sent her to the house in Aruba and told her to stay at the house with anyone else he wanted me to kill. I told her to not say a word to anyone besides those people, and that I'd be forced to actually kill her if she did. If Arobynn finds out they're alive, he'll send someone for me."
She explained the list next. "He requires proof of all completed jobs, so I kept the "murder weapons" and made sure the crime scenes had enough blood to indicate the person couldn't still be alive. It was mostly fake, but I took just enough blood from each of the victims and mixed it in to make it realistic enough to fool DNA scanners. Then I put the weapons in storage lockers he owns and wrote the numbers down so I wouldn't forget them."
Rowan nodded, most certainly remembering that part.
He was doing a good job of hiding his emotions, but she still saw how heavily this all weighed on him.
Everything he'd been feeling for eight years was hitting him at once, and while explanation made sense, it probably didn't make him feel any better about the role he'd played in all of this.
He confirmed it by asking, "Why didn't you tell me?"
He asked it almost casually, but she didn't miss the pain he couldn't keep from seeping into his voice.
"I wanted to," she breathed. "Gods, I wanted to. I know now you investigated before giving the list to the cops, but to me, it looked like you found it and just turned me in. You never asked me. And you looked at me... you looked at me like you thought I was guilty. I knew you wouldn't believe me."
Rowan went quiet, regret and shame coming off of him in waves so thick she almost choked on it.
"How is all of this going to play out?" he asked, seemingly trying to force himself to think about something else. "And what do you have to do that you need to be in prison for?"
She hesitated, suddenly not wanting to tell him.
Not out of a lack of trust, but because if she told him... he'd realize she's guilty of the crime she's in prison for. He might go back to hating her, back to thinking her a horrible person.
And she just got him back.
She's pulled from her thoughts when he reaches a hand out, slowly gripping her jaw to tilt her face to his.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said, the words final.
Of course he knew what she was thinking just from looking at her face. He always was a little too astute.
A part of Aelin wanted to put on a brave face and act like that wasn't exactly what she'd been worrying about, but a bigger part wanted him. Wanted him to see that even after all this time, she needed him.
So she forced down the witty jokes and sultry smiles she usually used as ways to hide her vulnerability and looked up at him.
"Promise?"
He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I promise, Aelin."
His hand was still on her face, and he leaned in until his forehead rested against hers. "I'm never going to leave you again. I'm so... I'm so fucking sorry I did in the first place. I should've come to you, or at least listened when you told me you were innocent."
"I'm sorry I thought you didn't fight for me," she said back. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
They'd both done things they regretted, but Aelin knew that now, no matter what, he was telling the truth. He wasn't going to leave her.
The knowledge felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders, and just to lighten the mood, she whispered, "And I'm sorry I stole your bed."
He pulled back to glare at her. "You're going to explain one day how you even pulled that off. But I'd like the answer to my other question first."
Aelin took a step back and ran a hand through her hair.
"Arobynn Hamel dying is the endgame, Rowan. I have to stay in prison so I can kill him and have an alibi no one will question."
He paused, and for a moment, her fears skyrocketed, so she rushed to explain, "As long as he's alive, those people have to be in hiding and I have to look like I killed them. Once he's dead, I can bring them back without worrying Arobynn will kill them. Or me."
He gave her a strange look, but she spoke before he could, explaining, "It's why I've been in prison for so long. I would've killed him and ended it years ago, but I only found him a couple months ago. He's been in hiding ever since I was locked up, because the FBI knew I was one of his and started looking for him."
"Okay, but Aelin-"
She cut him off. "I know it's insane and not at all ideal, but I need you to leave me in here. Just until he's dead, and then it's over."
He stepped forward and grabs her shoulders, shaking her slightly.
And then he did the weirdest thing.
He smiled.
"What the hell do you look happy about?" she demanded. "I'm being serious-"
It was his turn to interrupt her. "Aelin, if that's the stipulation, you're already free."
Unease drifted through her stomach. "What do you mean?"
"I mean he's already dead."
Shock rushed through her so fast and thoroughly, her vision swam and she swayed in his grip. "What... what did you just say?"
"That's why I came today, now. I actually figured out you were innocent two days ago, but I wasn't going to come until I could tell you with certainty I was getting you out, and I knew you couldn't bring everyone back without risking your life. I've spent the past 48 hours planning a jailbreak and a way to sneak you to somewhere the US doesn't have extradition."
He grinned again. "But then it was announced on the 11 o'clock news tonight that he died last week of pneumonia complications. His family kept it private because they wanted a small funeral, but he's dead, Aelin."
Still feeling the weight of shock, she argued, "He's not dead."
"But he is."
"No," she insisted, pushing away from him and starting to pace again. "He can't be dead."
His face softened at the panic in her voice. "Aelin, I know you wanted it to be you, but-"
"No, Rowan, you don't understand. I mean he cannot physically be dead, because I haven't finished killing him!"
It was his turn to be shocked.
"What do you mean you haven't finished killing him?"
She took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I've been poisoning him since the day I figured out where he holes up. Turns out he has kidney problems and goes in once a week for dialysis. I show up and add a little... extra to his medication. The last time I went was less than a week ago, and while he might have been sick, he most definitely was still alive."
Besides that, what were the odds that Rowan figured out her "victims" were still alive, and just two days later Arobynn croaks?
It would be one hell of a coincidence, and Aelin learned long ago to not believe in those.
His eyes went wide. "What? You mean he faked his death? Why the hell would he do that?"
"Because," she said slowly, dread forming like a lead ball in her stomach as she realized what this meant for her, for the ten people whose lives she'd traded her freedom for. "I told Maddison and the others to wait for news of his death before coming back. I told them that until he was dead, they weren't safe."
She shook her head, whispering, "I told them to watch the news."
Rowan realized what she was saying and cursed.
"He knows."
~~~~~~~~~~~
Lemme know in the comments if you want to be tagged!
Part 5 will (realistically) be out in the next three weeks. Sorry for the slow updates; school is consuming all my time and energy.
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kuramakakashi · 3 years
Text
Metanoia (7/8)
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domini album
metanoia album
#9 Tobirama Senju
#anon special request (arranged marriage AU)
metanoia - (n.) the journey of changing one’s heart, mind, self, or way of life
word count: 1,838
part six / part eight 
Your jutsu took you to the only place you could think of through the upheaval in your mind – your home.
You collapsed on the porch to the compound vomiting, bile and chyme forming a puddle on the wood as you trembled on your hands and knees, everything within you shaking.
It’s too late for us. I must do my duty.
I love Izuna.
Your body heaved again and you realized you were crying as the acid burned in your throat and mouth. Your fingernails dug into the wood porch as you forced yourself to get up and wipe your mouth. Your teleportation jutsu had been stopped just outside of your compound and you realized why a moment later.
Chakra that heralded Tobirama’s signature had warded your home against intruders, the seals burning blue when you pressed your palm against them and tried to rip through them. Your mind was too scattered though, precise chakra control out of the question as you let out a hoarse cry and slammed your fist against the seal nearest to your head.
Kaito had called you an idiot and a coward. You’d thought he’d been rude, but you realized he was telling you the truth. All the dodging you’d done from any news of Tobirama’s wedding and the Daimyo altogether had turned around and bitten you in the ass – the Daimyo’s niece had married Izuna, not Tobirama, and that meant – that meant –
You slid down the entry door and sobbed into your knees.
The chakra in Tobirama’s seals hardly masked his actual presence, and when he dropped to his knee in front of you, you didn’t try to hold back the tears.
“You thought I was married,” Tobirama said, his voice like gravel.
Your fingers clutched at the fabric of your pants. “I didn’t listen to any news of Konoha for years,” you croaked. “I couldn’t bear it – I didn’t want to hear about your wedding.”
A stretch of silence passed and then he spoke again over your cries.
“I sealed your house so no children could break in. Everything is as you left it,” Tobirama told you. “I can break the seals,” he added, almost gently.
You nodded into your knees, unable to look at him.
He rose and you felt a wave of his chakra pass around you and then the older, residual chakra vanished as the seals disappeared from their inscribed places around your home.
“They’re gone,” Tobirama told you, despite probably knowing that you had sensed the release.
You stayed put, arms locked around your legs as you breathed shuddering breaths into your knees.
We cannot speak of this.
I can’t return your feelings.
Forcing yourself, you rose to your feet, still not looking at Tobirama.
“Thank you,” you made yourself say, eyes on the vomit puddle a few feet away, and then turned around, opening the entry door. The house smelled the same – wisteria and pine – but you could also smell the faint scent of jasmine, a scent that you had only ever identified to Tobirama before.
He’d been in your home since that day you’d left.
You swallowed and stumbled, dizzy, and you felt Tobirama’s presence behind begin to lurch to catch you, but you grabbed the wall and shut your eyes against the tears running freely down your face.
“Please leave,” you whispered into the wood, knowing full and well Tobirama could hear you. “Please – don’t make it any harder.”
“You’re going to leave Konoha again,” Tobirama said behind you.
He was right. You’d come here to escape the dinner, yes, but…but you wanted to see your house one last time before you fled again. The house Hashirama had built for you, laughing as you’d shown him your sketches and estimates, and then your cheers as he’d effortlessly built your plans into solid walls around you. He’d always taught you to chase after your dreams until you held them in your hands and had made them your own. And when Tobirama had become your dream…
“Please – leave.”
Tobirama didn’t move but you did, moving further into the house. Even in the dark, you could find your way and slid open the door to your bedroom. Your tatami mat laid untouched but made on the floor, the papers you’d left on your desk in a neat stack beside your pens, and the clothes you’d left behind set atop your dresser in a folded pile. Tobirama’s scent was stronger here, and you sank in the threshold as he came behind you in the hall.
“Why did you come here?” you asked quietly, staring vacantly into the empty room. There was no layer of dust like you had expected, nor any trace of the disorder you’d actually left the compound in. Everything was clean, like it had been cared for in your absence, expecting you to one day come home and put to use the house again.
You heard Tobirama sit against the wall opposite the entrance to your bedroom and exhale a long breath.
“When you left, you abandoned your position as Hashirama’s Hand,” Tobirama said. It was a position you’d been given in the symbolism of the Shodai’s Sage Art Wood Release jutsu. Tobirama, Izuna, Madara and yourself were all the Hands of the Hokage, his most trusted advisors and his inner circle. “I brought your paperwork and belongings back here and…saw that you had made a mess before you had left, in your hurry. So – I cleaned.”
You closed your eyes. You had forced yourself to forget most of that night, but you recalled the state of hysteria you’d been in as you’d thrown clothes and weapons across your room and left your kitchen in a rampage, storing away whatever you deemed long lasting into a traveling scroll. You hadn’t even bothered leaving through the main gate, just scaling the wall and shunshining into the forest before running at a breakneck speed toward the next village. And then the next. And the next. And the next. Until you were halfway to Sunagakure and almost entirely drained of chakra.
“You didn’t need to do that,” you said into the silence.
You heard Tobirama swallow. “I was responsible for it – your leaving. Cleaning your home was the least of what I could do.”
“You were doing exactly as expected of you,” you replied, speaking with a voice you hardly recognized. A band of moonlight stretched over a thin portion of your room from the window set in the far wall. “Expecting anything else was my own mistake.”
Saying the words out loud, you expected to feel the tear in your heart spread further until you were practically hemorrhaging blood, but nothing came. Nothing except numbness met you as your mind spiraled deeper into the abyss you’d tried to outrun that day you’d left the village those three years ago.
“I would have done whatever it took to secure Hashirama’s dream – our dream – of this village’s future,” Tobirama spoke quietly. You heard the movement of fabric as he crossed his arms over his knees. “But sacrificing you would have been to give up on that dream all the same. I didn’t realize that until it was too late, and you had already left and Akane was arriving.”
You exhaled. “She married Izuna. You were saved from that sacrifice,” you muttered.
“When Akane told me that she did not want to marry me and that she was in love with Izuna, I thought she was the stupidest and yet bravest woman I had ever met,” Tobirama admitted. “But I admired her for her strength, because when the time came, she denied her uncle and eloped with Izuna. That marriage could have destroyed our chances at a village, but Akane had bet right on her uncle’s lust for control and both Izuna and the village survived the wrath of the Daimyo.”
“Smart woman,” you said.
“A braver person than I have ever been,” Tobirama responded. “A woman who inspired me to not give up who is important to me even for the sake of a dream that won’t be achieved by following only one path.”
You rested your head against the doorframe, still staring into the room.
“Why are you telling me this Tobirama?” you asked. “What do you think it will change?”
“Perhaps it will change nothing,” Tobirama said, and you heard him shifting again. He was behind you, and when you felt his fingers beneath your chin, guiding your face to his, you realized there was a silver sheen in his eyes as your gazes met. “Perhaps it will change everything.”
“You didn’t marry Akane and you’ve said I’m important to you,” you replied bluntly, staring into his eyes. “That night when I told you how I feel for you, you told me that you didn’t feel the same way and would not discuss it any further with me.” The question was between your words.
“Since we were children, I have always respected you,” Tobirama said, gaze unwavering. “Your strength and your drive earned my respect, but it was your curiosity about the world and your desire to know as much as possible that made me fall in love with you.” You sucked in a sharp breath and Tobirama’s gaze dropped to your mouth and darted back up to your face. “I – I am not sure how to love, and I did not know how to separate my own desires from my desire to help Hashirama achieve our dream of a village of united clans, and you suffered for it. Akane’s strength though – when she arrived here, I learned that I could have a dream of my own too, independent from the village. That dream – it’s you. I let you slip through my fingers before, my own pride and negligence pushing you into running away from me and staying away from me. Until now. You’re here – you’re home, and I don’t want you to run away again. Not from me.”
Your tears had continued as Tobirama has spoken, but his thumb stretched from your chin, swiping the tear across the plane of your cheek.
“You have cried enough,” Tobirama said quietly. “I do not want to see you cry again.”
“You love me, Tobirama?” you found your voice, fingers clasped in the fabric of your pants as Tobirama’s hands cupped your face.
Tobirama nodded. There was fear in his eyes, but there was also raw, unbridled honesty, and felt the tear in your heart finally begin to scar over at last.
A sob broke through your lips and you flung yourself into Tobirama’s arms. Your sudden weight knocked him off balance and he fell back against the hardwood, you on his chest as you cried into his shoulder, half laughing.
His arms closed around you and he began to laugh, until both of your faces were wet with tears and he was holding your hand as tightly as you held onto his.
TAGLIST: 
@queer-naruto​ @cosmins​​
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skzsauce01 · 3 years
Text
A Good Man
Anniversary Request Special
Description: Seungmin loves you so much so that he wished he was the one left behind in the plane crash, not your late husband.
Warning: guilt, plane crash, death
Word Count: 2k
Pairing: fem!reader x Seungmin
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Chan was a good man— loyal, loving, reliable. Seungmin is a good man too, but Seungmin is not Chan, and he knows it. He knows it well.
He approaches you, bouquet in hand. You turn and smile when you hear him.
“Hi, Seungmin.”
“Hello, Y/N. Where’s Miyeon?”
“I left her with her grandma. She isn’t quite old enough to sit still for stuff like this yet.”
“I see.” He set the flowers by the picture of his late leader. “I should leave the two of you alone then.”
“No, wait, Seungmin,” you stop him. “Would you like to have dinner with us this evening?” 
You’re inviting him to dinner? His eyes slide to Chan’s framed smiling face. No, he mustn’t get his hopes up. There probably isn’t something more to this invitation. You probably just don’t want to be alone on your late husband’s fifth death anniversary. “Sure. Where? I’ll see if any of the boys are free too.”
“No, I meant just the three of us at my place,” you clarify. “I… I have something to say.” 
Seungmin can’t stop his heart from accelerating even though he knows it’ll hurt more later. “O-okay.”
You nod and turn back to the memorial. Seungmin watches as you whisper something into the single white carnation in your hand and set it on the altar before he himself turns to give you room.
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He finds it ironic that he was actually the reason why you and Chan were together. You were his classmate whom he reunited with when Stray Kids did a reality show at a site you worked. He was even the best man at your wedding. He remembers that day clearly— that day when he saw you walking down the aisle dressed in white. He’d never felt so sick as he did then when realization and regret hit him all at once. He loves you. Since when, and for how long, he didn’t and doesn’t know, but it was and is too late. 
He finds it even more ironic, however, that he is the reason you two are now torn apart.
He raises his finger and presses the bell. Within seconds, the door is thrown open wide and a bubbly five year old greets him. “Hello, Uncle Seungmin!”
He automatically bends down and scoops the child up. “Hi there, Miyeon. Have you been a good girl today?”
“Uh-huh! You can ask Mommy!”
As if on cue, you pop out from the kitchen. “Yes, she’s been a well-behaved angel. Welcome in, Seungmin.” 
You take the melon he’d brought while he takes off his shoes. Seungmin’s a bit surprised to see three lit candles on the dining table when he walks in, but says nothing of it. He does, however, raise an eyebrow when you off-handedly mention you baked his favourite chocolate cake. He knows the recipe calls for red wine, and for a single mother such as you, anything that does not involve your child usually does not fit into your schedule, let alone cross your mind. 
After dinner, you take your daughter to her playroom upstairs with a large plate of cookies that are obviously meant to keep her distracted for a while.
Seungmin watches as you scurry back downstairs afterwards. You’re wearing a skirt. He doesn’t remember you wearing a skirt since you gave birth. He thinks you’re gorgeous in anything, but the effort you put into looking nice makes him blush a shade darker.
“Shall we?” you dramatize, pulling out the dessert.
Seungmin helps lay out two plates while you serve a slice onto each.
“You mentioned you have something to say?” he asks as you both tuck your chairs in.
Are you blushing, or is it just the heat from these candles?
“I, uh… Let’s eat first.” You smile sheepishly. “I haven’t had this in so long.”
Despite having his favourite dessert, Seungmin cannot concentrate on its taste at all. He watches as you cut through the moist cake with your fork. He can tell you’re nervous by the way your joints are turning white by your grip on the utensil. He’s used to being the anxious one, so this is new. What could have gotten you so on edge?
At last, you’ve scraped every last drop of cream you can procrastinate with into your mouth. Seungmin takes the plates and sets them into the sink before sitting back down in front of you, waiting patiently.
“What I want to say is,” you begin carefully. 
He nods once and leans forward, letting you know you have his attention.
“We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?”
“Yes, why?” Goodness, this sounds like a line from every other friends-to-lover romcom skit. Not that he would mind. As long as you tell him you feel the same way he does, he wouldn’t care if you quoted “Twilight” verbatim. Oh, to be in a lighthearted romcom with you, Seungmin dreams of nothing more. Then again, he reminds himself, these are just dreams.
“Ever since… ever since Chan passed, we grew closer, and I depended on you a lot. You’ve been my cornerstone, and I wanted to say ‘thank you.’”
He nods again, but doesn’t say anything. He knows you enough by now to recognize you have more on your mind.
Indeed, you continue. “And over these past five years, my heart has—”
“Mommy!” A sudden cry sends you both to your feet. 
“I’ll tell you later,” you toss over your shoulder to Seungmin who’s running right on your heels towards the cry.
“Miyeon!” you gasp, seeing the state of your daughter. Somehow, she has managed to squeeze through the gaps between the railing of the stairs and is hanging from the second floor. Below her, her stuffed monkey lays sprawled out on ground level.
“I’ll pull her up,” you decide, but Seungmin stops you.
“It’ll be hard to fit her back through those rails, and she’s crying too much to cooperate.” He stands under your daughter and extends his arms upwards. “Miyeon? Miyeon, let go. Uncle Seungmin will catch you. You’re going to be alright.”
The little girl stops wailing for a moment and looks down only to cry again from the intimidating height.
“Sweetie, it’s okay. You can do it. We won’t let you fall,” you add in. “You trust us, don’t you? You trust Mommy and Uncle Seungmin?”
She quiets down again and sniffles as she looks at you and Seungmin now instead of the floor. Her tiny arms are shaking, and you brace yourself, knowing she’s going to fall soon whether she wants to or not.
Miyeon whimpers once more and closes her eyes. She then finally releases her grip and lands squarely into Seungmin’s awaiting arms.
“Oof. There we go. Safe and sound,” he assures her. 
Once she’s set on the floor, Miyeon again begins to bawl from shock. “Mr— Mr. Bananas wanted to climb. Mr. Bananas wanted to climb!” she sobs, gripping the stuffed animal you’ve returned back to her arms.
“Okay, okay, we understand. Still, no more climbing for you or Mr. Bananas, alright?” hushes Seungmin.
You pick up your daughter and bounce her on your shoulder. “I think she’s learned her lesson. I didn’t think we still needed baby rails, but I guess you can never be safe enough.”
Seungmin reaches for Miyeon. “Let’s put her to bed. She must be exhausted after all that.”
You nod and let him carry the five year old up the stairs once more. You have him wait downstairs though as you change the child, so he heads back down and makes himself comfortable on the couch. On the lamp table beside him, there’s a photo of you and Chan excitedly holding up an ultrasound. It is the only picture of the three of you together.
He runs this thumb over the other man’s face, wiping it free of any dust. “I’m sorry…” he whispers. “I know it’s not worth much, but I’ll keep Y/N and Miyeon safe and happy. I promise.” 
He quickly sets down the picture and stands when he hears you closing the bedroom door. 
“Is she alright?” Seungmin asks when he sees your head appear from around the corner.
You nod, descending the steps quietly. “She’s sleeping now. She’ll forget all about it by tomorrow morning.”
“I wish I could say the same when I get hurt. I can’t even sit in certain positions anymore,” he jokes.
You laugh lightly. “I’m glad you were here, Seungmin. Things could have been a lot different if it were just me.”
“I’m always happy to help. I should get going now though. You must be tired too.”
“Wait.” Your voice stops him at the front door. “The accident… I’m thankful you were here, and I realized it had to be you. You had to be the one to do it.”
His stupid hope is rising again. He can feel it in his chest. “Y/N, what are you saying?”
“Miyeon, she wouldn’t have trusted anyone except you. She needs you, and I… I need you too.” 
Is he hearing incorrectly? His silence and bewilderment prompts you to explain. “The thing is, ever since Chan passed five years ago, you were the only one who’s been by my side, supporting and caring for me, and slowly, I’ve fallen for that. Seungmin, I know I come with a lot of baggage, but would you be willing to give us a try?”
He wants to jump, he wants to cheer, he wants to accept your confession, but none of this makes sense to logical Seungmin, so he restrains himself.
“Y/N, do you realize what you’re saying?”
You nod. “I-I know it’s sudden, but I like you, Kim Seungmin.”
“But you love Chan.”
You hesitate but nod in agreement anyway. “I’m not going to put you second. I—”
“Y/N, I killed Chan. Don’t you see? You should hate me instead. If it weren’t for me, you’d still have your husband, and Miyeon would still have a dad. If I hadn’t stood under that propeller after the plane crash, Chan wouldn’t have had to push me and get crushed in the head. I killed Chan, and no matter what I do— no matter how much I love you too— I can never stand in his place.”
You take a moment to stare at him, trying to read his body language after that confession of insecurity. After a while, you straighten your back and look him right in the eyes.
“You’re right.” He’s startled by your sudden firm tone. “You can never be Chan. You’re not a music-producing insomniac. You’re not Australian. You’re not born with curly hair.”
He swallows and hangs his head.
“But,” you continue. “I’m not looking for another Chan. I’m not looking to replace him; I’m looking for you.”
“Y/N…”
You soften your voice. “When I found out how he passed saving you, I knew I was going to be okay. I knew Chan wouldn’t leave me and his unborn child to fend for ourselves. He saved you because he knew he could count on you, and it’s why I trusted you from the beginning and why I let myself fall in love again.”
You walk up to him and take his hands. “Let me ask this again. Will you, Kim Seungmin, stand by my side, not as Chan, but as someone who loves and is loved?”
His heart pounds in his head, yet he cannot take his eyes off of yours. His throat is tied into knots, yet he cannot stop the words from tumbling out.
“Nothing would make me happier,” he breathes. 
You smile and wrap him in a hug, which he finally returns. Just then, footsteps thump down the stairs and a five year old child waddles into view.
“Mommy?” she calls. She then takes a moment to look around before her eyes land on Seungmin. “Daddy?”
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winterscaptain · 3 years
Text
a horrible first.
Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic
a/n: this takes place during rite of passage, where the unsub is the cop committing murder of undocumented immigrants crossing the border. we pick up right at the end, at the quasi-standoff in the desert. let me know what you think and i hope you enjoy it!! 
words: 1.3k warnings: language, canon-typical violence and death, reader shoots and kills the unsub, mild dissociative symptoms following trauma, nothing too horribly graphic
summary:  “the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” ― g.k. chesterton. au!march 2010
masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?
You brace yourself for a screaming stop in the SUV, immediately following Aaron to cover as Boyd flies out of the decrepit structure on an ATV, firing an automatic weapon of some kind. 
You take a shot.
Time seems to slow as you watch Boyd go down, tzhe innocuous red dot in the middle of his forehead beginning to weep even before he hits the ground. 
Derek fires his rifle from inside the car, but the deed is done. Boyd’s dead. 
Aaron raises his head. If you had your wits about you, you’d see him counting off, making sure all of you are there. “You all right?” 
“Yeah!” Morgan shouts as he leaves the car, but you’re stuck in place. 
“No!” Emily immediately answers, turning on Derek. “Are you out of your mind? You blew out my eardrum.”
Aaron’s been there - the ringing is damn near unbearable. 
“What did you want me to do? He was coming right at us!” 
“I told you I had him.” She’s holding both hands over her ears, but you’re sure that’s not the only reason Derek’s raising his voice. 
“He was shooting at us, Emily.” 
“Well, you could have given me a heads-up!” 
“The loaded MP-5 and the lunatic shooting at us wasn't enough? Come on.”
Aaron lets them bicker, but notices something odd. 
You haven’t moved. You’re staring at Boyd’s body, your service weapon still in your shaking hand, your breath shallow. 
He approaches you slowly from the side, extending a hand toward your gun. He says your name quietly, but you can’t hear him. He repeats himself and you startle as he gets a little closer. 
He’s not as brave as you were when you pulled him off Foyet. He’s almost afraid to touch you, afraid you’ll hurt yourself or draw away from him. 
The look on your face also scares him - it’s simultaneously blank and absolutely horrified. For a moment, he thinks back and realizes, with a little bit of shock, that he knows what it is.
You’ve never shot to kill before. 
“Hey hey hey,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. He places a hand over the barrel of your gun. “Give that to me, okay?” 
Another voice echoes in front of you. It’s Derek, who’s reached Boyd’s body. “Great shot, kid! Right between the eyes on a moving target. They teach you that at the academy?”
You let Aaron take your weapon from your hand, blinking a couple of times. He flips the safety and tucks it into his pants at his lower back, keeping his hands free.
Derek catches on, turning around and sobering. 
Aaron can feel the rest of the unit creep up behind him, but he waves them off. They take a few steps back, watching with bated breath. 
They all remember the first time they shot an unsub, their first kills in the field. A horrible, wretched first. 
“Can you take a step back toward me?” Aaron asks.
You take a step back and trip, stumbling over your feet. 
Aaron’s there to catch you under your arms, pulling you close. All at once, the levee breaks and you let out a sob, turning into him for refuge. 
He closes his eyes and wraps around you. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You did the right thing. It’s okay.” He huffs, and it’s almost a laugh. “That was a really good shot.”  
You clutch his vest, your arms locked around his waist. He keeps whispering to you as the crime scene techs arrive and start their work, shielding you with his body. 
+++
You sleep on the plane home. Aaron sits across from you, working on the after-action report on your behalf. He looks up every couple of minutes as if he’s afraid you’ve disappeared in the time between his last check-in and that moment. 
Derek, Spencer, and Emily watch him watch you. 
“That sucks,” Emily says. “My first hit me hard, too, I think, but like… days later.” 
Derek nods. “Yeah. It’s a shitty first, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I’m glad Hotch is over there. Probably the best person for this kind of thing.”
“Best person for the kid, too,” Dave says. Derek and Spencer frown. 
Dave continues, clarifying, “Every one of us has someone we prefer when the day gets hard, whether we know it or not. Anchors, if you will. Good to have.” He looks over at the two of you again and doesn’t elaborate further. 
You stir, and when you open your eyes, there’s a fresh glass of cold water next to you on the little side table. You take it gratefully, taking a couple of sips.
Aaron watches you orient yourself, check the time, and start your search for your report. 
“I’ve got it here,” he says, offering it to you. “You have a bit more to do, and I have to keep your gun until all the paperwork goes through - protocol for use of lethal force with a firearm. It’s a simple review, no need to worry.” 
You nod, taking it and thumbing through the extra pages in the back. You’ll probably ask Derek about the best way to fill them out. 
Could ask Aaron, too. 
Hotch. 
Ask Hotch. 
“How should I fill these out? 
He takes a second, interrupting his own reply to stand and promptly plop himself in the seat beside you. “First things first - tell the truth. You did the right thing and nobody in their right mind will dispute that.” 
“Thanks.” 
The shadow of a smile passes across his face. “You’re lucky - this is cut and dry. Not all of us get a dirty cop on an ATV wielding an MP-5 for our first review.” 
“Lucky?” You sound skeptical, at best. 
His mouth quirks. “I know. Poor choice of words. You’ll probably have some rough nights. Do you want me to set up an appointment with the psychologist? The unit technically has one on retainer but -” 
“You never use them because you’d rather hold all your emotions right there -” You poke his chest “- until you die?” 
 The little smile appears again. “You been listening to Haley again?” 
“What, from beyond the grave? You bet. So, watch your ass, Hotchner.” 
He shakes his head. “I’ll be sure to do that.” He sobers, his eyebrows pinching in an adorable look of concern. “But really, if you want…” 
“That might be nice, actually. To talk to someone.” 
“And you know you can always come to me, right?” 
You nod. “Of course.” 
The dull hum of the plane fills the silence between you for a little while. 
“I was really scared, Hotch.” 
He resumes his listening posture, leaning on his elbow with his fingers laced together. 
“It all happened so slow - and so fast? - at the same time. I don’t know. He just… He went down and I was so afraid that he’d shot Derek or Emily I mean -” You take a breath. “I heard the gunfire behind me and the glass breaking and I just didn't want to turn around and find them dead you know?”
“Yeah,” Aaron whispers. “I know.” 
“I was so stuck that I didn’t even realize Derek was talking to me - he was right in front of me and I couldn’t see him. And then I started thinking about Boyd and all that hate and…”
You trail off, unable to continue with any degree of coherency, so you ask a question instead. 
“Is it always this hard? Does it get easier?” 
Aaron wavers for a minute. “Yes and no. It’s never ideal - you know you’ve made a mistake when you have to use lethal force, but you get more confident about making the right call in those situations as you see more of them. You’ve been with us for two years - I’m - No.” 
He stops and his brow crumples. 
“I was going to say I’m surprised you made it this far, but I’m not. I’m impressed. And proud. It took a dirty cop on an ATV -” 
“Wielding an MP-5?” You finish for him. 
“Yeah. It took that much for you to pull your trigger with any lethal intent, and even then you didn’t want to. The entire way you were talking about a de-escalation strategy - don’t think I didn’t hear you.” 
A flicker of warmth blossoms in your chest and maybe, just maybe, you feel a little better.
+++ 
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