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ddejavvu · 10 months

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Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 1) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 11.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: thank you to everyone who has encouraged me in my development of this series! it's three parts long, and each part will be posted one week after the one before it. that means you get chapter 2 next week, and chapter 3 two weeks from now. and after chapter 3 is released, i will post the full fic in one single post, so that it's easier to read. this series means a lot to me, it's the longest fic I've ever finished for this account, and I would really love to hear what you think of it. Thank you to the love of my life miss jade (@luveline), for being the first person to read this (!!), and for all of your wonderful feedback that cheered me on as I crossed the finish line for this series. I don't think I would have finished it if it wouldn't have been for your support, so thank you sweetpea <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

It’s 11:14 AM when you get the call. Your phone buzzes ballistically beneath your pillow, where you’d stuffed it haphazardly last night somewhere close to 4 AM. For the record, you’d only slept because your eyes hurt from being open for so long. You’re certain that, after what you’d done, you deserved to ache for eternity, but you’d succumbed to sleep when it pulled hard enough at you.

Raising the phone to your ear is a chore, especially because the number on the screen is unrecognizable, but you stretch your tired, bed-ridden limbs and hold the cool glass screen to your face. It’s jarring, and you long for the stuffy warmth of the pillow again.

“Hello?”

“Miss Y/N Mitchell?” It’s a man’s voice, deep and strong through the receiver. It’s no-nonsense, and you almost worry that you’ve misfiled your taxes, that someone from the IRS is tracking you down.

“That’s me,” You rub sleep out of your left eye, harder than necessary so that your vision is blurry when you open your eye again. You’re not very gentle with yourself these days.

“You’re listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Bradley Bradshaw. He’s currently a patient at the Naval Medical Center in San Diego. He was brought in at 9:37 AM this morning when his jet malfunctioned mid-exercise, and he crashed into a canyon below.”

Your heart stops.

Your cheeks get hot, your hands start to tingle, and your stomach feels like it’s going to start turning cartwheels, sloshing your insides around until you vomit what little you’ve eaten.

Bradley’s dead, you think, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead.

“We were able to airlift him out, and he’s stabilized now-” Bradley’s not dead, “-but he’s still unconscious. His parents are here, as well as your father, if you’d like to join them.”

It takes a long time for you to speak. It’s almost a full minute, and the man on the other end has to call your name to get you to respond.

“Miss Mitchell?”

“I’ll be there,” You blurt, heaving a shaky breath as you seal a hand over your mouth. You part your fingers only to make sure he hears you clearly as you confirm, “He’s alive?”

“Yes, he’s alive and stable.” The man informs you, “He’ll recover, Miss Mitchell.”

Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead.

“I’ll be there,” You repeat, and for the first time in almost 36 hours, you kick the crappy motel blankets off of your legs and stand, “Thank you, sir.”

Wearing a bra again after two weeks of lazing around in bed is awful. But you’ll do it for Bradley, if only to make up for the last thing you’d said to him.

“I can’t love you anymore!” Rings in your ears, and a vision of Bradley’s hands reaching desperately for you flashes through your mind, covering up the green light ahead of you.

Someone honks behind you, a BMW. You jolt to attention, stepping on the gas and jerking into the intersection.

Easy, you chide yourself, You’re going to the hospital to visit a patient, not to be one.

You’re able to pull into the hospital’s parking lot without nearly causing any more car crashes, and you briefly wonder if you should take the coward’s way out again as you trek over the asphalt towards the hospital. You’d run two weeks ago, why not now? Why not now, when what you’d been worried about that night has actually happened?

Urged by the regret flooding your veins since fleeing, you walk on, stepping through the automatic doors of the hospital and sidling up to the reception desk.

“I’m here to see Bradley Bradshaw,” You inform the nurse there, “Uh- Lieutenant. If that… helps.”

She sends you a kind smile, filled with sympathy that you’re thankful for as you stammer and stumble your way through speaking. You’re sure you’re not the most distraught person here, and you’re guiltily thankful for that.

“Room 624,” The nurse tells you, and oh, what a sick coincidence, “Down the hall and to the left, take the elevator up and follow the arrows on the floor.”

6/24 is not only Bradley’s birthday, but your anniversary; the day you’d kissed him on the swings in his backyard with hot fudge sticking to your lips. He’d been glum about his dad missing his birthday on deployment, and, of course, your dad couldn’t be there either. Carole had done her best to brighten up her boy, but some things couldn’t be mended with gift wrap, and you all knew that.

You’d snuck out to join him that night with a sundae, offering him the serving spoon thickly coated in the chocolate. He’d accepted it with a huffy eye roll, upset that you’d managed to cheer him up even a little bit with just one spoon of ice cream.

“It sucks,” Bradley mutters around the chocolate in his mouth, the syrup sticking his words together, “I know he can’t do anything about it. But I still want him here.”

“I know,” You hum, taking a bite of ice cream for yourself, “I’m sorry, Brad. If it makes you feel any better, he’ll probably get you something, like, really good when he gets back. He’ll feel all guilty, that’s what my dad did and I got a puppy out of it.”

“We’ve already got a puppy,” Bradley gestures to the Bradshaw’s family dog, well on in years by the gray around his muzzle and his tendency to nap instead of move.

“Maybe you’ll get one that you can actually play with,” You offer Bradley another bite of the ice cream, and you only feel a little bad for making fun of Lewis. But the dog doesn’t understand your teasing, softly snoring on the porch.

“Maybe he’ll get me a car,” Bradley gushes, “A bitchin’ one, like a Bronco or something. Then we can put our surfboards in the back and go to the beach.”

“You don’t even have a license!” You elbow Bradley, laughing at his lofty dreams, “But a Bronco would be cool. You should send your dad a magazine clipping of one with your next letter and talk about how cool it is.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Bradley muses, a smear of chocolate over his lower lip that he doesn’t lick away.

You scoff, stomping on his foot where it’s planted in the grass beside your own. He jolts away with a yelp, and in doing so, jerks the swing he’s sitting on, He catches his balance and you notice the syrup on his lip, reaching out to clean it with your thumb.

“You’ve got hot fudge on your face, doofus,” You sneer, happy to return his teasing, “You eat like a toddler.”

“I’m not the one who put three cups of it on the sundae!” Bradley insists, and his lower lip catches your thumb as he speaks. Teenagers in love, you’re hyperaware of touches like that, and your breath hitches in your throat at the contact. He notices it too, staring down wide-eyed at where your thumb hovers over his lips.

“Sorry,” He blurts, and in doing so, his warm breath fans over your hand. You jerk it away, eyes on the ground as you mumble away his concerns.

“It’s fine,” You mutter in a terrible attempt to remain nonchalant, “We’re not four, it’s not like I think you’ve got cooties or something.’

Bradley takes to the teasing, glad it’s not tense anymore, “That’s not what you say when I leave my underwear on the floor.”

“‘Cause that’s gross!” You launch into a rant, “That’s, like, personal! And they’re used too,” You shudder, handing him the sundae intent on scrubbing a hand over your face, “Nasty, bro.”

Despite your casual nickname for the boy beside you, you feel like anything but bros when his hand brushes yours. He takes the ice cream from you, and his hand half-closes around your own, sending a spark shooting up your spine.

Your breath catches in your throat again and this time Bradley hears it, looking at you through his lashes with those wide brown eyes.

Neither of you move away this time, frozen just like the treat in your joint grip.

You feel extra affection for the boy next to you today, the shared grief of losing your fathers every few months bringing you closer together. It’s what compels you to lean in, tilting your swing sideways to brush your lips over his own in a painfully awkward teenage-style kiss. Before you have the time to panic about whether you did the right thing, Bradley reciprocates, pursing his lips slightly to fit them around your top one. You follow his lead and it goes much better, a chaste kiss that’s sweeter than the chocolate staining your lips.

You’re glad you’d kissed him that day, you’re glad you had the balls to take the leap that resulted in a nearly twenty year long relationship. It would have been twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-five, fifty if you hadn’t chickened out two weeks ago, but you try not to think about that in the elevator lest you make yourself sick.

You find room 624 easily, the painted arrows on the floor leading you down the hallway that the room stands in. You wonder if you should knock first, you’re not too knowledgeable on hospital etiquette, but you decide that manners can be damned, your boyfriend- ex-boyfriend is in there.

You turn the handle and step inside, and Carole looks up from Bradley’s bedside immediately. You think she’s expecting a doctor, and her desperation for finding one breaks your heart. Her teary face splits into a sad smile, and she rushes to your side to envelop you in a hug. You let her have it because she’s grieving over her son, but you’re surprised she’s not immediately angry with you for breaking up with Bradley.

“Honey,” She gushes into your shoulder, “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re here! Brad’s gonna be okay, they said he’s just gonna need some help breathing until he gets stable. Then they can get him healthy and ready to go again!”

“That’s great,” You hold her close, relishing the last Bradshaw hug you’ll probably ever get, “Where’s Nick and dad?”

“Oh, they went to get food,” Carole releases you, swatting her hand in the air in an affectionately teasing manner, “You know those boys, always hungry for something.”

You laugh awkwardly, watching as she settles down by Bradley’s bedside again. She looks back up at you where you’re swaying on your feet, gesturing to the chair beside her, “Well come on, girl! Get in here!” She seems much more lively now that she has company, and you hate to think of her grieving her injured son alone.

“Oh- I, uh,” You stammer, darting for the seat beside her, “I wasn’t sure if-”

“Don’t worry,” She seems to misplace your concern, “He’s okay, sweetie-pie, you won’t hurt him just by breathin’ on him.”

“Right,” You smile, though its disingenuous with tension, “Um, so it was a mid-exercise crash?”

“Mhm,” Her face dims slightly, “Apparently there was some freak accident with one of the engines, 'set off the whole thing. And that’s two crashes in one week! First it was that Javy boy, I tell you, I think they should vet those engineers better. I mean, aren’t they supposed to catch that stuff beforehand?”

“Yeah,” You feel partially numb, but you’re not sure whether it’s emotional or physical. You’ve been trying to avoid looking at Bradley so far, using his bubbly, bouncing mom as a distraction, but now that the blonde has settled beside you your eyes drift.

He could be perceived as sleeping, if the color wasn’t drained from his face. His skin is still tan but it’s duller now, golden brown fading to a sickly, colder shade of it, like there’s no life beneath it. His eyes are shut and there’s a breathing tube up his nose; you wonder how pissed he’ll be when he wakes up to find out they’ve had to trim his mustache around the thing.

“Must be a Bradshaw family tradition,” Carole breaks your concentration, laughing weakly, her voice lined with a hint of tears, “Crashing, scarin’ their girls half to death.”

You remember the day of Goose’s crash like it was yesterday. You’d only been three at the time, freshly so. But grief like that, the panic you’d observed, doesn’t go away. It can’t be forgotten, it can’t drift out of your brain like so many memories do with age. You and Bradley had sat together in the hospital with Carole and your dad, and Nick still had the crummy plane drawings you’d done for him while waiting for him to wake up.

Carole’s usage of the phrase ‘their girls’ unnerves you. She’s been exceptionally nice to you so far, especially considering that she’s fiercely protective of Bradley, and should have kicked you halfway to Mars for ditching him like you’d done. But she’s leaning towards you in her chair, and you come to the dreadful realization that she doesn’t know you’ve broken up with Bradley.

“Now, I know you wanted to keep things hush-hush,” She gushes, happy to look at your animated face instead of Bradley’s still one for a moment. She reaches over to brace her hands on your knees, leaning eagerly into your space, “But I have to know, babycakes, how did it go?”

“Hm?” You look dazedly at her, still partially staring at Bradley.

“The proposal!” She squeezes your hands, sniffling weakly with the remnants of tears past, “I know that boy was finally manning up enough to ask you, 'should'a put a ring on you years ago."

Any other time, you'd groan at Carole's opinion on your relationship. She's been urging the two of you to tie the knot for decades, but you'd felt no burning desire to go to the courthouse. You were comfortable in your life, why spend an obscene amount of money to get a piece of paper that tells you you're in love? You knew that for free, in the way that Bradley looked at you, in the way that he memorized all of your fast food orders, in the way that his hand so often found yours beneath the sheets in his sleep. Now her teasing is a sore spot, one that gapes the wound already bleeding in your chest.

"-But when I asked him how it went he said he’d ‘share the details later’. I’m sure you wanted to make some big announcement or something, but I need this right now, honey, tell me what happened.”

She’s staring at you like she always has, like you’re the sweet little girl she helped raise when your mama had chickened out. Cowardice must run in the family.

There’s such pretty hope shining in her eyes that you can’t bear to crush it, ready to spew lies about how glorious Bradley’s proposal had gone, how you’d fallen to your knees to kiss him, how you’d shouted ‘yes!’ from the rooftops. Fortunately, you don’t have to lie to her, because the door opens and your dad and Nick step through.

“Hey,” Your dad cheers, tossing you a plastic-wrapped sandwich, “There you are, honey. I was worried you weren’t gonna show up, ‘thought you’d be mad at him or something.”

“You know she was mad at me when we went down?” Goose gestures to Carole incredulously, and you can’t see behind his sunglasses but you know he’s addressing you, “I wasn’t even flying the damn thing and I got lectured!”

He lets up, goes easy on Carole, you’re sure because he’d had to comfort her earlier. You see a slightly dark, damp patch on the left side of his Hawaiian shirt as he leans in to hug you, probably her tears.

“Good to see ‘ya, kid,” Nick rubs your back, “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod, voice slightly shaky as you smooth your previously-folded hands down your thighs. The movement catches Carole’s attention, and you look away before you can see her reaction to your bare ring finger.

“He’ll be fine,” Goose leans over to slap Bradley’s calf, and Carole looks like she wants to scold him for it, as if he'll die right then and there, “He’s tough just like’is daddy.”

“His daddy should go get me some tea,” Carole huffs, placing her hand over Bradley’s as if it would make up for Nick’s slap, “And take Maverick with you, I don’t want you getting lost.”

“Oh, again-?” Goose grumbles, setting his lunch on one of the plastic chairs around Bradley’s bed, “You could’a told me that before we left, honey.”

“Didn’t want it until now,” Carole insists, “Now shoo, get some for Y/N, too.”

The second the door shuts behind the two men, a stiff silence falls over the room.

Carole’s sweet voice breaks it, but it’s the last thing you want to hear, “Where’s the ring?”

You stare at the sandwich in your lap, like it’ll open face and read like a book, giving you instructions on how to lie your way through this.

“I know he asked you,” She presses on, voice pitched up with tension, “I- I gave him the ring Nick used to propose to me. That was almost a month ago. We swapped it out for a wedding band, and- and I thought Bradley could use the engagement ring for you, too. I know he asked you.”

“Carole,” You can’t bear to look her in the eyes, not the woman who’d fed you macaroni and cheese when your dad was halfway around the world in a fighter jet and tucked you in extra tight during a rainstorm so that the lightning couldn't sneak through the gaps in the blankets to get you.

“No, tell me, where is the ring?” She raises her voice, the way she used to when Bradley would leave his scooter out in the rain to rust, “Just tell me-” Her voice peters out into a weak whimper, “-tell me you didn’t say no.”

“I’m a coward,” You finally mutter as her answer, hateful and wicked, “I got scared. I wish I’d said yes, really, I- I wish I could take it back, but-”

“What did you do?” Her face crumples at your admission and she nearly shrieks, squeezing her hand tighter over Bradley’s, “Y/N, what did you do?”

“I said no!” You sob, chest heaving as you wipe away a tear from your eye heavy-handed, “I was scared, Carole. After Coyote went down,” You blearily recall the last plane crash you’d heard about, a member of Bradley’s own squadron caught in a bird strike. He’d been fine, but waiting for the news took you right back to your youth, and you’d been hit with the striking realization that it could happen to Bradley, too. It could be you in that chair, it could be your love on the line. You’d been so sick with dread that you’d backed away altogether, running away to preserve your emotions.

“I just- I didn’t want it to happen to Bradley,” You confess, “I didn’t want it to happen to me. So when he asked, I was-” You sniffle, hard, “I was so scared. I didn’t want to marry him and then lose him. For some reason this-” You suppress a sob, throat aching and chest heaving, “-dating a pilot is different than marrying one. Dating is- it’s temporary, even if you plan on it lasting forever. It’s less serious, it’s not set in stone. But marriage-” You hiccup, “-marriage is the real deal. It's like- It's like I was dating Bradley, y'know, the teenage boy who took me to homecoming because I was sad no one asked me. But- but then all of a sudden I was marrying an aviator. And that’s- that was scary! That was real. I- we’d been together for twenty years!” You gush, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “I should have known marriage wouldn’t be any different. It’s not like we ever thought we’d break up,” You sniffle weakly, “Marriage was always sort of silly to me, 'cause we just thought we'd be together forever regardless. But I never realized how real it would feel. So I- I freaked out. When he asked me, I made up some stupid excuse, and I chickened out! But-” Your chest heaves with a sob as you finally lift your eyes to Bradley, “He crashed anyway. He went down even though I said no, and it still hurts.” You cry, face scrunched in despair, “It hurts so bad, Carole, I didn’t think it would still hurt.”

“You fool,” She huffs exasperatedly, but she reaches out to clutch your hand like a lifeline. She’s holding Bradley’s with her other, and you wish for a moment that you could cut out the middleman and hold his hand on your own. You don't feel worthy to touch him anymore. “You don’t stop loving someone by leaving them, you stop loving them by moving on. Of course it still hurts, you didn't move on; you still love him. And- and leaving him didn’t stop him from getting hurt, it just meant he probably went down wishing he got to tell you he loved you this morning, so you'd know.”

The thought breaks you, Bradley ejecting with you on his mind. Evidently he hadn’t fully accepted your breakup, not if he hadn’t even told his mom about it. You wonder if he was planning on trying to get you back, if after work today he would have come over with flowers and a thousand pleas on his lips that you didn’t deserve.

“He loves you,” She continues, tears wetting her own cheeks, “And even if you did say somethin’ stupid, I don’t think there’s anything you could tell that boy that’d make him stop loving you. Apologize when he wakes up, baby, he’ll understand. He'll be hurt, no doubt. But he’s been scared before, too, believe me.”

“I will,” You gush, nodding as she squeezes your hand and Bradley’s in sync, “I will, I promise! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Just make it right,” She pleads, “Can’t have you two splittin’ up now, not after all this time.”

“I wish I hadn’t done it,” You weep, holding your hands to your eyes as if you can plug up the tears, “I- I just panicked! And I’ve been a wreck ever since, I- I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t-”

“Tea’s here!” The door opens, and Nick is suddenly a lot quieter as he sees you bent in half and crying, “Oh, honey.”

“C’mere,” Your dad edges around Goose, squatting by the side of your chair while Carole rubs your back. He’s always been fantastic at comforting you, which you marvel at because he was so active in his career. He wasn’t always around when you were little, but that didn’t stop him from knowing how you liked your back rubbed, your hair done, and your cookies warmed.

“He’s gonna wake up,” Your dad soothes you, wiping a tear away from your face, with the hand that isn’t rubbing your back, “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” Carole promises, and you know she’s talking about something else entirely, “It’s alright honey, it’ll all work out.”

Nick feels a bit useless now, standing there with two cups of tea in his hands while everyone else comforts you, but he’s quick to notice a frown work its way onto Bradley’s sleeping face.

“Brad- hey! Look,” He gestures with one cup of tea, only spilling a tiny drop, “I think he’s wakin’ up.”

All of a sudden you want to go home. You’re not sure you can do this, you don’t belong here with his grieving family. You belong in your bed, kicking yourself for your cowardice and wishing you’d done better by him.

But there’s no time to flee now, not again. This time you have to brave it, you have to watch as his big brown eyes slowly blink open, a haze of sleep and medication clouding them over.

“Agh,” He groans, hand twitching by his side, “What-?”

“Hey, Bradley.” Nick leans over the bed, tea now set aside on a tiny table, “How y’feelin’ bud? You had quite the plane crash.”

Bradley takes a moment to observe his surroundings, blinking blearily at your dad, then you, then his mom. His eyes drift back over to you and they feel like they’re lasers, boring searing holes through your chest where your heart used to be two weeks ago.

The slow and steady beeping that had been long since tuned out slowly started to increase while Bradley regained consciousness. Your dad looked warily at the machine, watching Bradley’s heart rate rise.

“I’ll get a doctor.” He ducks out, and Carole stands.

“We should go,” She grabs Nick’s hand, looking pointedly at you, “We’ll give you a minute alone with him, honey.”

Nick starts to protest about being led away, something about how ‘-he came outta my balls! I can’t see him when he wakes up in the hospital?’ but Carole’s already corralling him to the nurse’s station in search of your father. If you weren’t so fond of the woman you’d be cursing her for sticking you alone with Bradley, but you know you can’t let yourself succumb to fear again; this time you have to be a big girl.

“Baby,” Bradley rasps, turning your attention back on him. You watch him weakly, eyes apprehensive as he reaches for your hand, “C’mere.”

You hesitate, and he lets out a weak chuckle, “Come on, now. You’re not gonna kill me by holding my hand.”

“Bradley,” You sniffle, reaching out for his limp fingers on the bed, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” He smiles lazily, eyes drooping, “I’m okay. Comes in the job description, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” You repeat, grief-stricken as you clutch at his hand desperately, “I shouldn’t have left, I- I wish I had stayed.”

“Baby,” His brows furrow and he laughs sympathetically, “They wouldn’t have let you stay, you know that. I work on a naval base, not at a chipotle. You can’t sit with me all day. Plus, there was no way you would’ve known I was gonna go down. I’m glad you weren’t there, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have wanted you to see that.”

All at once, your chest burns hot, blazing with panic. Is he not going to talk to you about it? Is he going to pretend nothing happened? Is he going to refuse to acknowledge what you’d said? You stammer, “What-?”

“Mr. Bradshaw!” The doctor comes in, cheery now that his patient is awake. You turn your head, still dazed and fear-stricken at Bradley’s demeanor. “Let’s see how you’re doing here. Any chest pain?”

“A little,” Bradley shifts in his bed, wincing infinitesimally.

“Probably just some discomfort due to the broken ribs. Headache?”

“Yeah,” Bradley admits with a groan, “That I’ve got.”

The doctor scribbles something down on his chart, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Bradley strains to think, “I… don’t know. I don’t even-" He grimaces, "I don't even remember the crash, ‘just know it happened ‘cause he told me.”

Bradley raises a shaky finger to point at Nick, who’s happy to see his son gain some mobility back, even if he is worried for the boy. The three adults had filed back into the room after the doctor, and you pointedly avoid Carole’s imploring stare.

“Think hard,” The doctor commands, and you squeeze his hand like it’s a play-dough machine, like memories will ooze themselves into his brain in star shapes and heart cut-outs.

“I remember…” Bradley rasps, turning his hand beneath yours to grasp it, “Jake’s birthday party. That was-” He glances over at you, “-last night?”

“That was three weeks ago,” This time your heart rate is the one to rise, echoing dully in your ears like the soundtrack of a horror film, “Is that-” You sniffle, “Is that the last thing you can remember, B?”

His eyebrows raise and he tries taking in the information, “Yeah- uh, shit. Three weeks ago. What does that mean, doctor?”

“It sounds like you’ve developed post-traumatic amnesia.” The doctor scribbles once more on his paperwork, “The good news is, we think you have only a mild concussion. And amnesia induced by mild concussions typically lasts only up to a week or two at most. But there’s a very real chance you could remember everything in just a few minutes.”

Amnesia.

He doesn’t remember.

“What I want you to do now is to rest, and we’ll have a nurse send up something to eat. Please,” The doctor eyes Nick knowingly, “Do not feed him the funyuns you’re holding behind your back.”

“Foiled again,” Goose laughs, tossing the packet of chips onto a chair beside his own lunch, “You got it, doc.”

“Alright, glad you’re awake,” The doctor bids you goodbye, “And- a nurse will be in to run a few simple tests later. For now, just sleep and eat.”

“Will do,” Bradley tries tightening his hand around yours but you worm away from him, and it’s heartbreakingly easy to do with his limited mobility. You stand abruptly, legs shaky and heart pounding in your chest as you stumble away from his bed.

Amnesia. Amnesia. Amnesia.

He doesn't remember.

“Honey?” Bradley calls warily, face scrunching into a tired frown.

His eyes follow you as you back right into your chair, the plastic scraping against the floor with an ungodly screech. Now the attention is all on you, and you give into that dreaded fight or flight response you seem to always fall victim to.

“I need to use the bathroom,” You ramble, rushing for the door, “I’ll be back!”

“Y/N-” Bradley tries calling, but his voice is weak enough where you can pretend you haven’t heard it as you try to refrain from running down the hall. You don’t make it ten steps before Bradley’s door closes with a sharp click, and the voice of one Carole Bradshaw cuts through the silence of the hallway.

“Y/N Mitchell!”

She’s using the same tone she used to use when you’d get in trouble for pulling a girl’s hair at school, or throwing mud at a boy who was mean to Bradley. You react just like you had then, spine stiffening and limbs locking.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” She warns, stomping towards you in her half-raised heels, “Turn around, young lady.”

You follow her orders even if the nickname is outdated. She’s got her pretty eyes narrowed, and as much as it pains you to be on the receiving end of one of her seldom-used withering stares, it’s better than being in there and watching Bradley’s eyes shift when he suddenly remembers you’d been the biggest douche on planet Earth.

“Did you apologize?” She inquires, and you nod obediently.

“But- but Carole, he doesn’t remember-!”

“He will,” She promises, “And when he does, you’d better apologize again. He needs you right now, y’know? He thinks it’s three weeks ago, before you ran off and left'im. As far as he knows, you’re still his adoring girlfriend who he’s probably yearning to see right about now. So go in there,” She reaches for your hand, “Kiss that boy on the mouth,” She demands, “And stop running away!”

“What? I can’t-” You gush, trying to pull away. But she’s stronger than Bradley is at the moment, and her hand tightens around yours, “I can’t lie to him! Not about this, I- how long am I supposed to pretend?”

“As long as you can,” She insists, already pulling you back towards his room, a woman on a mission, “You march right on in there, and tell him how worried you were, and let his memories come back to him on his own time. He’s traumatized right now, he just doesn’t know it yet, and he needs you there. If you break the news to him now, it’ll only stress him out more. Go play nice, and when he comes around in a few minutes, you can have a real talk.”

“I don’t want to lie to him,” You lament, and she stops pulling you down the hall to narrow her eyes at you.

“Babydoll?” She asks sweetly, and fooled by her kindness, you hum in question, “I don’t give a shit.”

She’s never foul-mouthed, so it catches your attention. She holds your incredulous gaze, “You want him back?”

“Yes.”

“You wish you’d never left?”

“Yes.”

“Well as far as he knows, you haven’t.” She huffs, the fabric of her skirt flowing near her calves, “So get in there and be there for your boyfriend of twenty years, and when he suddenly remembers you aren’t his girlfriend anymore, Grovel. Sound like a plan?” She raises an eyebrow, and you tamp down the nerves rising in your chest. You nod cautiously, resolutely, and she loosens her grip on your hand. She still holds it to lead you back to the room, but she stops outside the door to speak one last time.

“I know you love him,” Her voice is softer now, genuinely sweet and caring, “And I also know you like to run when things get scary. And that’s understandable, but it’s not okay, not right now. You can’t stop loving someone just ‘cause you don’t wanna lose ‘em. It’ll hurt worse if you walk away.”

“I know,” You breathe shakily, squeezing her hand, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, sweetpea,” She smiles, tears still gathered in her eyes, “Now get in there and kiss my son.”

“There they are,” Your dad stands as you reenter the room, “You ladies have a nice bathroom break?”

“‘Had the time of our lives,” Carole nods, letting you take the seat closest to Bradley’s head. Your feet feel burdened with lead weights as you step towards his bedside, and he watches you with worried eyes. You’re sure he knows you weren’t really going to the bathroom, not with the way you’d fled, but you’re glad he’s choosing to pretend for your sake. He seems worried, though, and you curse yourself for making this about you.

“Y/N,” He reaches out for you as soon as you’re in reach, his voice still hoarse. His hand squeezes yours instantly, and you feel for the panic he's probably experiencing. He deserves a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, and it should be someone better than you.

“Bradley,” You murmur back, trying to stop your lips from trembling, “I- can I kiss you?”

Carole’s voice rings in your ears, and you don’t have to turn around to know she’s smiling at the two of you. Bradley pauses, then his worried eyes soften and he nods weakly against the pillow.

“Oh,” Nick teases as you brace your hand on Bradley’s bed, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to his lips, “Lovebirds!”

The kiss is nothing but awkward. It’s hesitant on your end, because you can’t believe you get to do it again. You’d really believed the goodbye kiss you’d shared with Bradley before he picked up dinner for the two of you would be your last one, so fitting your lips over his in the hospital seems like something otherworldly. You’re careful, too, because you don’t want to hurt him, not that you think you could ever smooch him to death. He doesn’t reciprocate much, he can’t, but the familiar prickle of his mustache against your lip is a welcome feeling that makes your heart feel light again, if only for a few seconds.

When you pull away, it’s gone. Because you have to look him in the eyes, the same ones you’d forced tears out of two weeks ago, and pretend like none of it happened at all.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” You gush, voice cracking, and it feels right starting off with the truth. You can get to the lies later, the ugly little abominations you’re cooking up so that he preserves as much mental energy as possible while on bedrest. You know Carole’s right, you know he needs to heal as much as he can before you make it worse with the news, but lying feels so wrong. He’ll find out sooner or later, and what if he really was done with you? What if he hadn’t told his mom so that no family drama erupted, what if it wasn’t because he was going to try to get you back? What if he hated you, and what if he hates you even more when he knows you’re lying through your teeth to him?

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He promises, his fingers curling slowly and carefully around your own, "Are you? You ran off, I was worried."

"I'm fine," You insist, waving away his concern with a shake of your head.

He doesn't seem satisfied with your answer; he can read you like a book. But he accepts your answer, and you admire him for not wanting to pry in front of everyone. He changes the subject, glancing briefly around the hospital room, “Baby my- my phone, can I have my phone?”

“It’s here,” Your dad hands it to him, and Carole watches your eyes widen infinitesimally. What if Bradley sees his text conversations? What if he sees that you haven’t talked in half a month? What if he finds messages from someone on a dating app he’d used, a rebound-in-the-making?

What if he’s changed his background? What if he wants an answer as to why it’s probably some picturesque sunset, a jet plane cutting through the clouds above. Or maybe it’s of Lewis, he’d recently had photos restored of the dog.

What if he notices your contact name is changed to something like ‘Do not answer’? What if he realizes he’s blocked you? What if all of your pictures together are deleted off of his phone, and he wonders why?

There’s a thousand things that could go wrong.

“Coyote called,” Bradley rasps, upon first sight of his screen. Then, “Hangman. Twice. Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, I- I should send out a message.”

“I will!” You lunge for your own phone, digging in your back pocket with suspicious urgency, “Uh, I’ll let everyone know, you just- just rest.”

“Okay,” Bradley hesitates for only a second, letting his grip go loose around his phone so that it falls back to the bed.

He seems content to let you do it, if only a little deterred by your insistence. But you’ll play the part of the fussy girlfriend, not wanting her injured love to work harder than he has to.

Nick and Pete take the time that you’re creating a group thread to question Bradley more on his memories, and every answer he gives sets your heart on edge. Your fingers feel numb as you type out ‘Rooster’s stable now, he has a mild concussion and a few broken ribs, but the doctors say he’ll recover fully. His memories are a little hazy from the past few weeks but apparently those will be back soon. I’ll send you any updates we get.’

Before anyone even has a chance to reply, you set the thread on silent. You can’t bear even getting a notification that the message can’t be sent, because you’re sure Bradley’s team aren’t too fond of you right now, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they’d blocked you in solidarity for their friend. But Bradley hadn’t even told his mom, would he have told his team? Would he even need to? Or would they notice the circles beneath his eyes worsening, the stubble adorning his cheeks from a lack of motivation to do anything productive? Or, maybe even worse, would they have seen him with another girl hanging off of his arm at a bar? Would they have caught him out to lunch with a woman and figured it out themselves?

“Hey,” Bradley rasps, effectively breaking your zoned-out worry spiral. Your eyes don’t lose their intensity but they focus on his pale face, and he offers you a weak smile, “Anyone respond?”

“Always the attention seeker,” Nick laughs, creating a distraction so perfect that you don’t bother checking the text to answer Bradley. “Should we tell ‘em to bring flowers too, Brad?”

“Shut up,” Bradley’s voice is far too quiet to be menacing, but it’s the type of teasing he always engages in with his old man, “When you were in the hospital you said I had to draw you one picture a day or you’d think I didn’t love you.”

“And I only got fifteen out of eighteen,” If Goose is capable of a withering stare, it’s what’s directed at Bradley now, “I can’t believe I bought a Bronco for a kid who doesn’t love me.”

“Alright, you two,” Carole swats at her husband’s arm, “Cut it out, don’t overwhelm him.”

“His heart’s beatin’ real fast,” Nick snickers, “But that’s probably ‘cause Miss Mitchell is doting all over him.”

The attention’s back on you, and it means Bradley’s waiting to hear your response. You dry swallow after sending Nick a good-natured eye-roll, trying to act like your heart isn’t beating ten times faster than Bradley’s.

Miraculously, nothing awful awaits you in the group chat. There’s no error messages, no scolding, no pledges of hatred for you, and it makes you think that you really might be able to get away with this for a while. Carole won’t tell, and that doctor said Bradley might not retain his memories for weeks. It’s like everyone has hit undo on what might be your biggest mistake in life, and you don’t know how to take the opportunity.

“Bob says he hopes you recover soon,” You push the panicked fog out of your head, reading in a low voice, “Hangman says he’s gonna give you flying lessons when you get back so that you,” You snort softly, “Get the hang of it, and to that, he is receiving a barrage of middle finger emojis.”

Rooster lets out a laugh, one that’s genuine and thick from his chest. It’s unlike his voice has been so far, it’s not fractured or achy, and the sound warms your heart. Some of the sickly despair that’s been coating your heart like globs of poison dries up, and you almost feel normal again when you slide your hand into his. He holds your back, and it’s like nothing’s ever happened.

You have your Bradley back; the only question is for how long.

Lunch is a sorry state of affairs for Bradley. His tray consists of chicken and gravy that runs into his mashed potatoes, and the jello they give him has a layer of cherry red liquid pooling overtop. You and Carole take turns spoon-feeding the man, giving each other a chance to mow through your sandwiches between bites.

Your dad watches out for the doctors while you sneak Bradley some of your sandwich. It’s cafeteria turkey, and honestly you’d rather go for the chicken on his plate, but he hums gratefully at the spread of mayonnaise and mustard on the bread.

“Thanks, babydoll.” He croons, a smear of mashed potatoes in his mustache that you wipe away with watery eyes at the nickname. He puckers his lips to kiss at your thumb and it’s like you’re at home on his birthday, feeding him in bed and stealing kisses between bites.

Bradley’s eyes start to droop halfway through his watery jello, and your dad stands, brushing sandwich crumbs off of his jeans.

“Alright, buddy,” He squeezes Bradley’s foot reassuringly, “I’ll head out. Probably best to let you sleep. Get some rest, and make her give us updates,” He narrows his eyes at you, accusatory, “I know you’ll be too wrapped up in him to remember we exist, but take some time away from his lips to tell me if he’s still breathing out of ‘em, m’kay?”

“Don’t be makin’ out too much, “Nick goads, standing when Carole grabs his hand and does herself, “His heart rate’ll skyrocket and the nurse is gonna think he’s havin’ a heart attack!”

‘Yes, yes, they love each other very much,” Carole hums, leaning down to kiss Bradley’s forehead. He leans into it but his hand stays in yours, and you gladly accept the same gesture from the woman on your cheek, “Let’s leave him be, okay? Brad, I’m coming back tomorrow morning,” She promises, “Your dad and Pete have some work to do in the backyard, but they’ll join us after lunch.”

The men don’t seem to have known about this yard work until now, and they share equally exasperated groans.

“And I’ll be here,” You throw in, meeting Carole’s appreciative gaze, “I’ll stay until they throw me out.”

“You could always handcuff yourself to the bed,” Your dad hums, and you pointedly ignore Goose’s comment about the pair of handcuffs you ‘probably keep in your nightstand.’ It gets him a sharp smack upside the head from your dad, and you’re sure Nick will choose a better audience next time.

“We love you,” Carole promises, squeezing Bradley’s arm as he bids her goodbye, “We’ll see you tomorrow, baby!”

“Love you,” Bradley hums, voice less gruff than before now that he’s used it again, “See you tomorrow.”

The entire time he’s been awake, he hasn’t let go of your hand. He turns to you with those sleepy eyes of his, big and brown and begging for a kiss. You lean in before you can stop yourself, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

His heart rate picks up.

You laugh against his mouth at the increased beeping, and he’s barely sheepish as he nudges his nose against your own. You feel like you’re loving on borrowed time, like any second now he’ll be slammed with the memory of you breaking his heart, stomping all over it like it hadn’t been yours for the past 20 years - maybe all of your life.

“I love you,” He murmurs, squeezing your hand, “Y/N, I- I love you so much. I don’t remember anything,” He’s slurring his words slightly with fatigue, and you kiss the corner of his mouth as he speaks, “But I know you could have lost me forever, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy to handle.”

He has no idea how true his words are. Of course, you’d nearly lost his life to the crash. But two weeks earlier, you’d lost his touch, his voice, his gaze, his love, and you’re grateful the tears that line your eyes look natural.

“Mhm,” You nod, sniffling, “It was- it was hard, Brad.” You admit, thinking back to the night you’d left. You’d checked into a shitty motel for the night, and you’d cried yourself sick in the shower. Even after your stomach was emptied you couldn’t bring yourself to eat for two days afterwards, and you’d only given into the mini fridge after nearly passing out. Your days were long and spent regretting your decision, wondering if you’d ever be happy without him by your side, and worrying that he might be able to.

“I just keep wanting to do it over,” You gush, feeling his hand tighten around your own as you sob, “I- I wanted to take it back, to-” You swallow a sob, remembering your lines, “-to stop you from going to work. If I’d just made you stay…” Your face crumples with a gush of tears you aren’t able to hold back, and you give up on speaking for now.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Bradley hums, kissing the space between your nose and your cheek. It’s all he can reach from the way you’re sobbing into his pillow, and you’re thankful for the comfort you might not be able to get soon.

“You couldn’t have changed anything,” He promises, and you nestle your head into his own to absorb his soothing voice, “My plane was still the one with the defect, baby. I would have gone down tomorrow if not today. ‘S only a matter of time.”

A wave of sickness washes over you at his choice of words, and you nod, trying to regain a grip. You lift yourself up from the pillow, neck aching as you crane it to kiss his chin. He smiles at you, his eyes so genuine and sweet that it makes you want to lose your lunch; it’s an expression you don’t deserve anymore, even if you long for it. It’s only a matter of time before he remembers everything, and you don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t want you anymore.

“You’re tired,” You hum, and he nods against the pillow, “Sleep, baby. You need rest.” You sniffle, wiping away a tear from your eye more forcefully than you need to. You try to lean back in your chair but Bradley stiffens, and feel him tighten his grip on your hand.

“Please don’t leave me,” He begs, and more of that nausea comes rolling in. They’re the exact words he’d whimpered just next to your ear two weeks ago, keeping the door closed with one hand while the other wound around your waist. Then, you’d wormed your way out of his grip, ripping the door open despite his efforts to stop you and running off to your car. Now though, you meet his eyes, scared and desperate and lost, and you nod, scooting forwards to lay your head on his chest.

“I’ll stay,” You promise, and he raises a hand to brace it against your cheek. You turn your head to kiss his palm, and he strokes a thumb over your face, “I’ll stay, Bradley, I promise.”

The nap that you take on Bradley’s chest is the best sleep you’ve had since you left. Being in his embrace once more practically erases your undereye circles, and it takes you a few seconds after you wake up to remember that anything is out of the ordinary in the first place. Then it all comes flooding back, and you cycle through each stage of grief respectively while still slumped onto the bed. Then you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you realize that Bradley’s nurse has shaken you awake.

“Hi,” The man smiles down at you, “Sorry to interrupt. I’m sure you didn’t want to wake up.”

“Oh,” You laugh hesitantly, slipping out from beneath Bradley’s hand and wiping away a slight glob of drool that had accumulated around the corner of your mouth, “No, no, it’s okay. What time is it?”

“Dinnertime,” Another nurse chimes from by the door, carrying another tray of meat and potatoes for Bradley, “Around six-thirty, Miss Mitchell.”

“You’re welcome to eat here with him,” The first nurse informs you, “But you’ll have to get something from the cafeteria, or order in. And visiting hours end at eight,” He levels you with a sympathetic smile, “But if you’ve got one bite left I won’t kick you out.”

“Thank you,” You chuckle wearily, your voice barely thickened with tears, “I appreciate that. Bradley,” You hum, squeezing his hand and stroking your free one through his hair, “Wake up, baby. They brought you some dinner.”

He comes to groggy, and you don’t blame him. He blinks a few times, then recognition washes over his face as he remembers why he’s there, and hopefully nothing else.

The nurses get busy with moving his bed, pressing buttons on the little remote strapped to the side until he’s inclined enough to eat his meal. The tray hooks into the sides of the bed so that he doesn’t have to hold anything, but you take his fork for him anyways, leaving his hands completely free.

“Thank you,” You nod gratefully at the nurses when they retreat for the door, a smear of mashed potatoes already gathered on the utensil in your hand. Bradley’s happy to let you feed him, humming at the taste of the beef they’ve given him.

“Better than the chicken,” He hums, his voice gaining back a bit of its grating quality from earlier. He’s usually rough-voiced after a nap, so you don’t worry too much about it. Typically you indulge in his raspy morning voice, but now it seems insensitive.

“Good,” You croon, scooping mashed potatoes and gravy onto a bite of the beef, “And it doesn’t bother your stomach?”

“What’s there to upset it, salt?” He grumbles around a mouthful, “Barely tastes like anything.”

“Sorry, Brad,” You hum, stroking a stray strand of caramel colored hair back into place, “I’m not supposed to feed you anything else, though.”

“I know,” He relents, lips puckering to kiss your wrist instead of wrapping around the spoon in your hand, “Not your fault, baby. But,” He rears back to takes the bite, chewing thoughtfully while you wait for his next sentence, “Can you bring me cookies tomorrow?”

You laugh, trying to keep it quiet in the slowly darkening hospital room. There’s no one around, and the door is closed, but his voice isn’t loud and you don’t want to overpower him.

“I just said I wasn’t allowed to feed you anything else,” You roll your eyes affectionately, a teasing gesture you thought you’d never be able to do with the man anymore, “What makes you think I’d bring you cookies?”

“Um, ‘cause you love me?” Bradley drawls, voice finally rising to a healthy volume. Maybe it’s the food in his stomach, or maybe it’s a switch that was suddenly flipped in his chest, but he sounds like himself again.

His words sober your fantasy intoxication, and you smile sadly at him where he lays in his bed. You set the fork down to lay your hand over his cheek, your palm soaking in the warmth of his skin that’s newly returned.

“I do love you,” You promise, leaning in to kiss him. You have to lean over his plate to do so, and you’ll worry later about any potential gravy stains on your shirt. You go slow and gentle, worried that he’ll push you away for reasons he doesn’t remember yet. But he doesn’t. In fact, when you pull away to give him some air, he catches your wrist in a surprising display of agility for his weakened muscles, and you freeze in place.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, mustache shifting slightly with his apology, “I can’t stop thinking about you getting that call. I never-” His voice cracks, “I never wanted you to go through that.”

“Me neither,” You feel tears pricking at your eyes again, the same that are shining in Bradley’s, “But you don’t have to be sorry. None of this was your fault, and what matters is that you’re okay now. I have you back, Bradley, I- I didn’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” He vows, and your lips sting with the force of your bite to repress a sob.

He lifts his head from his pillow, the first time he’s done it since waking up. He kisses your temple as you try not to cry, lips dotting staccato kisses against your skin as you tremble slightly.

“I promise, baby,” He hums softly into your skin as his hand comes up to hug you, “You won’t lose me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” You cry, your fist gripping his hospital gown desperately. You want to believe him but it’s not even really Bradley talking, it’s three-weeks-ago Bradley that doesn’t remember you walking out of his life for self-preservation. It’s Bradley that doesn’t know the worst of you yet, but who could remember at any moment and cast you away.

“You won’t, I promise.” He coos, stroking up and down your back. You feel silly, accepting comfort from a hospital patient who went down in a fighter jet less than 24 hours ago, but you feel even sillier that it's the same man you’d torn to shreds days prior. But he’s comforting you, he’s rubbing your back, he’s kissing your face, and he’s promising you that you’ll never lose him, so you let him, because you love hearing him lie, even if he doesn't know he's doing it.

“You promise?” You look up at him with watery eyes that blur out his face, but you see him nod. It’s unfair to ask, not when he doesn’t have the knowledge to truly promise. He cranes his neck forwards to bump noses with you, letting you cry against his skin.

“I do, honey.” He nods, holding you close like you’d never left at all, “I promise.”

Going from crying into each other’s embraces back to eating bland mashed potatoes is hard, but you ease Bradley into it with a bite of granola bar you’d found in your purse. He’s grateful for something with flavor, and you’re glad to finally be rid of the half-eaten snack.

“Oatmeal raisin cookies, please,” Bradley begs as he chews the snack, going as far as to bat his pretty lashes at you, brown eyes shiny with hope.

You scoff, wiping a tear away from your face with a fond, albeit trembling smile, “Okay, Brad. Oatmeal raisin.”

“You’re the best,’ He hums, grinning with a mouthful of oats and chocolate. You check your phone to find that you’ve only got twenty minutes left until visiting hours are over, and your eyes dim as you glance back up at him.

“I have to go soon,” You lament, “Visiting hours are over in twenty.”

His face fades from its pretty smile, some of the newfound color draining from his skin once more. You’re sure he’ll have a nightmare tonight, something about jet crashes and dying alone, and you hate leaving him here so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, baby,” You sniffle, squeezing his hand, “They open back up at 8 tomorrow, so as soon as I make those cookies I’ll be back, I promise.”

“I know,” He nods, raising your intertwined hands to kiss at your wrist, “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

“I’d stay overnight if I could.”

“I’d sneak you into my bed,” Bradley grins sadly, “S’alright, baby, just get a good night’s sleep. You deserve it after today.”

“You too,” You squeeze his hand, smiling sweetly at him, “And if you have a nightmare, text me, and I’ll crawl through the window, ‘promise.”

He laughs again, and now that he’s got most of his strength back it’s a normal sound. It’s not weak, it’s not subdued, it’s perfect. It’s Bradley.

“I’d like to see you try,” He teases, and you wipe a smear of chocolate off of his lower lip, remembering the first time you’d ever done that with a fond smile.

“I’m on the sixth floor.” He reminds you, and you shrug, sucking the chocolate off of your finger.

“Meh,” You crumble up the granola bar wrapper in your fist, “I could scale that easy.”

“Oh, really? Yeah, I bet you could,” Bradley chuckles, “You’re Spider-Man, suddenly? Sticking to walls? I must have forgotten your transformation.”

“Yeah, you did,” You grin with a laugh, “Actually, while I rushed over here to see you, a truck full of radioactive spiders crashed, and I got bitten by one. You’ve missed a lot, Brad.”

“Right,” Bradley’s brows raise, eyes alight with amusement, “Those radioactive spider trucks are a real nuisance, I hear.”

Giggling sweetly with him feels normal. The kind of normal you crave, the kind that isn’t settled for, but yearned for. And you’re clinging to it, pushing the truth out of your mind and playing the part perfectly.

A knock on the door interrupts your gigglefest and you turn in time to see the nurse from before entering, a bittersweet smile on his face.

“I’m supposed to kick you out,” He jokes, holding Bradley’s chart, “And you’re free to sleep whenever, Mr. Bradshaw, we don’t need to conduct any more tests tonight. You’re just here to be monitored."

“Alright,” Bradley nods and you stand, still clasping his hand in yours. The doctor busies himself with straightening up the chairs around the bed, and you take the privacy he so kindly grants you.

“Sleep good,” You recite your pre-bedtime deployment sendoff to Bradley, the phrase having gathered dust in the back of your head since his last overseas assignment, “Sweet dreams, and call me when you can.”

“I will,” Bradley leans up to kiss you, going for your lips, then your cheek, then your chin, “You too, baby. Get some rest. I’m okay, I promise.”

“Yeah,” You beam down at him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, “You’re okay, Brad.”

"See you tomorrow!" He calls as you leave, and you turn to nod.

"See you tomorrow, baby." You promise once more, hand on the door handle, "Goodnight."

“Sleep well, Mr. Bradshaw,” The nurse bids Bradley goodbye with a smile and a nod as you trail out behind him, and at the click of the door behind the two of you, it’s like you’re the recovering amnesia patient. Now that Bradley’s not there anymore, not smiling at you, not telling you he loves you, it’s like you can’t be sure of anything, like you’re still that imposter you’d been when you’d first stepped in. You come to the sickening realization, only after the fact, that you'd loved lying to Bradley, and it makes you feel worse. Your reverie is shattered, and the nurse beside you notices your shaky breathing as you trail down the hallway.

“Miss, are you okay?” His brows furrow in concern, and you nod.

“Yeah, just-” You smooth your hands down your pants, your palms sweaty, “It’s a lot. Being in there, seeing him like- like that. I guess I wasn’t prepared.”

“No one is,” The nurse smiles sympathetically at you, leading you to an elevator, “But he’s right, Miss Mitchell. He’ll be alright. And hopefully, his memories will restore themselves overnight. There’s a good chance he’ll wake up remembering it all.”

You’re sure that was meant to soothe you, but it’s only sent more nausea rolling through your body. You nod, forcing a smile as the doors shut between you, “Thank you, Nurse.”

Once the doors shut, you want to burst into tears. You don’t want the reception desk to see that, though, so you rush through the motions of leaving, practically running to your car. Once you’re safely inside the floodgates open, and you’re surprised you don’t trigger the horn from how hard you’re sobbing against the steering wheel.

You try to channel Bradley’s voice, ‘I promise baby, you won't lose me.’ but it makes things worse, it piles guilt on top of your sickness and makes you want to run away again. Because he’d promised you that he’d never leave you, not that he’d ever let you come back if you’d left him. And that’s what you’re worried about now.

Running away hadn’t stopped anything bad from happening, it just made you feel worse when bad things did happen. Thankful for your second chance, you swear to yourself in the stuffy silence of your car that you’ll do anything to fix this, and that you’re not going to fuck this up again because you’re scared. Love is scary, giving yourself completely to another person is scary, but Bradley’s always been good at soothing your fears, and there’s no one you’d rather give yourself to.

You steel yourself as you prepare to drive back to your motel, but second-guess it when you remember that Bradley has his phone with him. You have each other shared on Find My Friends, and he doesn’t normally check it unless he’s worried about your safety, but you’re paranoid that he’ll find your pin at a crappy motel and know something is wrong. So you punch in Bradley’s address instead, the one you used to share with him, still labeled as ‘home’, and set off.

The drive looks familiar in no time, and it reminds you of how much you’d missed it. The big oak tree on your neighbor’s lawn, the flag perpetually at half-mast because the man across the street fell while adjusting it and never fixed it, the tricycle on the sidewalk beside your front door that the toddler next door always seemed to leave on your walkway. You check the mail and feel something stabbing at your chest when your name is on one of the letters, and your house key is cold with disuse as you slide it into the slot.

You hesitate when the doorknob turns beneath your fingers. Walking into Bradley’s space will tell you exactly how he feels about what happened between you. There’s either going to be empty bottles strewn everywhere with pictures laying around covered in tear stains, or there’s going to be a hot pink bra in his bed, and a new woman’s makeup kit in his bathroom. Hell, maybe she’ll even still be there, maybe you’re about to walk in on your replacement.

But the promise you’d made to yourself in the car wasn’t for show, and you turn the knob after taking a deep breath, stepping into the darkened home.

You call out an uncertain ‘hello?’ into the place, waiting with bated breath for a woman’s voice to respond. But it never does, and you flick the light on beside the door.

You’d been right with one of your guesses.

It’s messy. Not exactly the outwardly disastrous type of messy you’d imagined earlier, but knowing all of the little things about Bradley means that you know he’s let himself go over the past two weeks. His running shoes are gathering dust by the door, which seems to suggest that he’s been lazing in bed just like you have. The living room is pristine, the pillows all arranged the way you set it up that Bradley doesn’t care to replicate, and you wonder if he’s sat on the couch at all the entire time since you’ve been gone. There’s no grocery list on the fridge and upon further inspection, the appliance is close to empty, one lonely beer left alongside ketchup, mustard, and a rotting head of lettuce. Unless he was eating the worst burgers known to man, you don’t think he’s been eating anything from the kitchen. Your heart aches for Bradley; you hope he’s been ordering food in.

Walking through the space is like revisiting a crime scene as the killer. Everything here is because of you, the pictures stripped from the walls are gone because of you, the lonely toothbrush in the dual holder is because of you, the neatly made side of the bed with its messy counterpart is because of you.

You realize that it’s your side that’s slept on, Bradley’s still tucked neatly in place, unused. You spot a red covering over your pillow, reaching for it and finding it to be an old t-shirt of yours that Bradley had raided your dresser drawers for. It’s one he’d bought you at a tourist trap on your vacation a few years ago, and it was your favorite to lounge in. You notice a dark spot on the fabric and only then realize that you’re crying, that it’s a tear that had fallen from your eye. Then it’s like everything hits you all at once, and you sink onto the mattress clutching the pillow. It smells like Bradley, and you know he’s been clinging to it every night, a thought that solidifies your sneaking suspicion that you might be the worst person on the planet.

You curl up and cry there, you don’t know for how long. All you can do is sob, soak your pillow with tears that you thought you were out of, clutch the bedsheets like they’ll reveal Bradley, hidden underneath and eager for a cuddle. This bed feels as empty as the motel’s had, maybe even emptier, because you’ve never slept in it away from Bradley. When he’s on deployment you always have a sweatshirt of his and a picture of him tucked under the pillow, but you know it won’t be there now. Now you’re alone, really alone.

Your eyes droop and you know you need sleep, especially if you’re going to wake up early to make Bradley cookies in time for visiting hours to start. But you can’t bring yourself to sleep without the picture of him under his pillow, so you stumble out of bed to fetch it from your box of memories.

Your fingers close around the slightly wrinkled photo, a shot of you in a gown and Bradley in a suit. It’s one you’d taken yourself at your graduation, high school turned college sweethearts. He had wanted admission into the Naval Academy, but in order to spend more time with you, you’d enrolled together at a university. It’s your favorite photo to have with you, and you reach out to Bradley’s pillow to slide it underneath. Upon lifting the pillow, you find a stack of pictures already there. Each one of you, most with Bradley pictured in them too. They only make you cry harder, and you recognize some as the inserts of the picture frames that had been taken down from the hallway.

It looks like Bradley hoarded photos of you, and some are stiff and stained with tears. The sight is something out of a movie, a dramatic indication of the inner turmoil of its main character. You see a shot of your silhouettes together, faces darkened by the sun streaming in behind you. You’re kissing on the beach, and without paying much mind to the structural integrity of the photo, you clutch it to your chest.

You’re a wreck. You just want your Bradley back, but your Bradley isn’t yours anymore. You want three-weeks-ago Bradley back, the one who you didn’t run away from. But he’ll probably have his memories back by tomorrow, and there’s no telling if he’d even want you to visit again. Looking at the sorry state of his apartment, you know he misses you, but whether he wants you back is another question altogether. All you can do is wait and worry, and worry you do. As you sob and heave in the bed, your brain shuts down, and eventually you drift into a dreamless, unpleasant sleep, nose still buried in your shirt that smells like Bradley.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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the--sad--hatter · 8 months

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This might end up being a long post, but if you've been one of the many people who reached out to me in the last few day, its for you.

TW: SELF-HARM, SUICICDE. DNI if that's a trigger for you.

I was in a dark place, a really dark one. My birthday is on Friday and that was causing me so much stress. Financially I was drowning. My physical health has left me almost completely immobile. I manage very short but frequent walks in an effort to control it. I vomit daily, regardless of what I have or haven't eaten. There's blood pouring out my ass (sorry to be crude). The doctors are useless and just keep ordering tests.

There's more, but that's the gist of it. It's a lot to deal with, and I wasn't dealing.

There's been an outpouring of love and support from people here the last few days. Not just financially, though the generosity there has been overwhelming.

Whether you sent me a dm with some love, anonymously sent me a hug, donated a dollar or donated 200 dollars... you saved me.

I actually think I might be alright at the end of all this, and i really didn't before. A few days ago I was writing the letters, the goodbyes to my family and the final fuck you to the people I hate. I had a plan, and it was a final one. It wasn't what I wanted but I thought it was all I had the strength left for.

I was wrong. My little fanfics brought me to people who still care two years after I've even written anything. This tumblr connected me with people who've treated me with more tenderness, respect, and care than I've ever gotten.

So this is my thank you for saving my life to every person who messaged, reblogged, donated or was just here for me when I needed it most. Thank you, I owe you so much and I won't forget that.

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 1 year

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Carpe Diem - Chapter 4

Pairing: Sketchbook (Kaisa/Johanna)

Summary: Carpe diem: one of the five latim mottos of the arcadist, or neoclassical movement. Literally translates to "seize the day"

Picking up where Locus Amoenus left off, this fic follows the lives of Kaisa and Johanna for a couple weeks as their feelings grow and develop. At some point there will be a couple of weeks of hiatus, but for now this fic will be updated weekly.

Notes: Happy Valentine’s day! This is your reminder to go reblog aromantic stuff because they deserve to be trending. It’s the smallest compensation we can give them for putting up with our bs (and also objectively funny)

Most of Kaisa’s plushies are ones that I have in real life, you should find them easily enough by looking them up on the internet, but the catowl one comes from the fan made familiar that hilda tumblr gave her! Link to the original post: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/waddles-ex-machina/180462531236

This is another one of those chapters that became too big and had to be cut in half, so there will be a second chapter this week as well but then 2 or 3 weeks of hiatus for reasons beyond my control :’)

Read it on ao3 or read the first installment on this verse or read the second installment on this verse

When Kaisa was dropped off at her house that night, Tildy was in the kitchen giving their dinner its last touches, and Frida was by her side at the sink, washing the dishes that their mother had used to cook.

“Welcome back, sugar pie!” The greeting reached Kaisa’s ears as soon as she turned to lock the front door. Sometimes she swore Tildy had supernatural hearing to go with all the other clearly out of the ordinary things about her. “How was it?”

“Pretty nice.” She said as she dropped her bag with two small candles carefully on the sofa. Later, she’d pick it up and put the candles in her room, where she could feel soothed by their scent while she studied, but for the moment being she let them lie there while she headed for the kitchen.

“Is that so?” Tildy prompted, sounding amused as Kaisa walked closer to give her a kiss on the cheek. Kaisa hummed an affirmative sound as she moved to do the same with Frida.

“Did she comment on your makeup?” Frida asked to Kaisa’s back while she rose on her tiptoes to put the honey jar she’d acquired in the overhead cabinets. Considering this was a house of pygmies, it felt like a really bad design flaw that those had been built so far above the ground.

“Not really. She only told me I looked nice when I got in the car.”

Honey safely tucked away, Kaisa put herself by Frida’s side and picked up the kitchen towel to dry the dishes she was washing.

“And was that the actual word she used?”

“I don’t know.” Kaisa shrugged as if she couldn’t see why that was relevant, failing to notice how Tildy hovered over the kitchen door with a tray, not wanting to go place it on the table and miss the gossip. “I think what she said was ‘so beautiful’, but she’s very polite. It is a very nice set of clothes you picked for me, anyhow.”

Though Kaisa couldn’t see it, Tildy looked like she would slap her own forehead if she wasn’t holding a hot tray, and Frida craned her neck to give her an “I told you so” look.

“Sure, Kai.”

They were sitting around the table in no time, and even though Kaisa didn’t think the single pastry she’d eaten earlier at the market was enough to sate her hunger for the entire evening, there was a nervous, coiling feeling in her stomach that made Tildy’s delicious cooking not look so inviting. She still grabbed some of the rice with lentils and the mix of steamed legumes, though, even if only in order to not worry her family.

“This Johanna sounds lovely, sugar.” Tildy said at one point, after they’d asked her to narrate her afternoon. Kaisa didn’t understand why they were so interested. They’d all been at the market a couple of times before, even if usually it was to accompany Tildy on her search for cooking ingredients. “You should invite her over sometime.”

Chewing on a mouthful of legumes, Frida nodded at Tildy’s suggestion, making Kaisa lift an eyebrow.

“Really? Would that be okay?”

Truth be told, she’d been daydreaming about inviting Johanna for a visit for a couple of weeks now. Not only did it feel appropriate, since by now she’d already seen her house and spent lovely times in it, but also she realised she wanted Johanna to meet those spaces that were essentially hers. She wanted her to meet her family and see where she’d come from and where she wanted to go. At this point, she already knew she could trust her with those bits of herself and know that they would be treated gently.

Tildy looked at Frida before answering, but quickly saw that the two of them were in the same boat. She wasn’t inviting anyone into her home without both of her daughters being fine with it, of course.

“Oh, yes! Any friend of yours is welcome here, you know this.”

With her fork, Kaisa pressed down on the small mount of rice with lentils, making it crumple. “Could I invite her over for lunch next Saturday, then?”

Both of them assured that yes, of course, that would be just fine. As Kaisa continued to daydream about having Johanna meet her lovely family, said lovely family stared at each other like a war had just begun.

“Get ready to lose.” The stubborn set of Tildy’s jaw and the furrow between her white eyebrows said.

“You wish.” Frida’s relaxed face and confident smirk answered.

Next Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

………

The invitation had been popped shyly by Kaisa the following Tuesday, when they were walking from their seminar to Johanna’s house. Edmund said he’d be out working on the project he begrudgingly took part on, so they decided to take the opportunity to be there without bothering anyone. Johanna had, of course, enthusiastically agreed, and spent the rest of the day feeling lighthearted about having been asked to go to Kaisa’s house and take part in one of their family programs.

Now, standing on the last one of the circular stone tiles that traced a path from the sidewalk to their front door, Johanna wondered where that excitement had gone, and how it had turned into such dread. The butterflies in her belly sounded more like a swarm of wasps, now.

Wasps serve a crucial role in the ecosystem, her cousin’s voice in her head reminded her. They’re pollinators, and do pest control, as well as decompose biomass. You’re not in bad company, even if it feels uncomfortable.

Doing her best to allow the metaphor to steel her nerves, Johanna took a deep, steadying breath and knocked three times on the door.

There was the sound of some commotion coming from inside the house, though Johanna couldn’t make out any specific words, and soon the door swung open to reveal a satisfied looking girl with a messy, curly bun atop of her head.

“Good afternoon!” She greeted politely. “You must be Johanna.”

“I am!” Frida stepped aside to allow her in, and Johanna bowed her head slightly in thanks. “Frida, am I right? I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s lovely to meet you at last.”

A mischievous spark was lit in Frida’s eyes when she answered. “I could say the same.”

Before Johanna had the chance to think too much about how Kaisa apparently talked about her to her family, she heard the noise of frantic feet on wooden boards just before the girl herself appeared at the back of the corridor Johanna was standing in. Her face was flustered, and her hair was still wet, the strands falling straight on the sides of her face without their usual volume. She still looked cute as hell.

“Anna! Sorry, I was just finishing getting dressed. I see you’ve met my sister.”

Johanna, turned towards Kaisa as she was, didn’t really understand the tone with which Kaisa had said that last sentence, nor did she understand the glare that she was giving the child, but that was mostly because she couldn’t see the knowing smirk on the child’s face.

“Sure took your time with it, Kai.” Frida said sweetly. “Never saw you dress so nicely when we had guests over.”

Kaisa was, indeed, looking very nice. She wore a plain grey shirt under a fluffy looking cardigan with a checked pattern, and her skirt had a whimsy embroidered pattern. Her leggings were also grey, and her shoes were black buckled doll shoes. Though Johanna was biassed to say so, because she always thought that Kaisa looked gorgeous, the clothes suited her very nicely, so she didn’t get why she seemed annoyed that her wardrobe choices had been pointed out.

“I like to switch things up.” She hissed through clenched teeth and pink cheeks. Any signs of irritation had vanished when she turned her eyes to the guest.

“Tildy is still working on lunch, but would you like to come meet her?”

“Of course!” Even though Frida had been nice enough, the wasps returned as if on cue at the prospect of meeting Kaisa’s mother. “I’d love to.”

After smiling at her, Kaisa guided her through the entrance corridor, which ended with a staircase to an upper floor to the right, just beside a passage that led to another room. Though the door to said room was only half open, she could see stacks of books inside, and made a mental note to ask Kaisa about it later. They turned the opposite way, to the left and into a cosy living room. It had a fireplace and a couch, as well as one well loved armchair and a coffee table at the centre. On the wall behind the seats, there were some majestic paintings of viking boats, but the eyes of any observers would immediately be drawn to the large framed picture of a teenager Kaisa reading to a much younger Frida. The sight of it alone was enough to ease Johanna’s nerves.

A doorless passageway separated the living room from the eating area, where a glass door to the backyard let sunlight in, illuminating the long wooden table with eight places on it. She didn’t have any time to look out into their garden, though, because Kaisa kept moving to a door that, when opened, released a delicious cheese scented steam into the air, making the mouths of them both water.

“Johanna’s here.” Kaisa said briefly to the person inside, and not two seconds later the woman came out.

Tildy was not at all how Johanna had imagined. She was much better, in every way. Even if all that Kaisa had told her about her led her to believe she’d given her children a healthy upbringing, she could never help but wonder where Kaisa’s rigidness and obsession with perfection had come from.

Probably not from here, she concluded as the grandmotherly looking woman walked over to her wiping her hands on her (no longer) white apron, all smiles and sweet words.

Once introductions had been made and Tildy had assured her, profusely, just how long she’d been wanting to meet her and the amount of good she did to Kaisa, she suggested she showed Johanna around while the meal wasn’t yet ready. All the while, the girl herself had been looking like all she wanted to do was bolt and hide behind anywhere big enough to conceal her face. While they both offered to stay and help however they could, the woman insisted on it, asking simply that they called for Frida to come help set the table. Which was just as well, because Johanna herself had been beginning to feel like she needed to bury her face in her hands and scream. Maybe it was a family thing to want to drive her crazy.

Kaisa took her wrist, making her feel like little bolts of electricity were shocking her wherever their skin made contact, and led her away with urgency. Before they had left the room, however, she gestured to the glass door.

“I’m looking forward to showing you outside later.”

Frida was in the living room when they arrived there again, and her sister briefly told her to go help with the table. She went without a problem, but not before smiling at Kaisa and Johanna’s linked hands.

“The living room is probably… self explanatory.” Kaisa said, then pointed to the wall with the paintings. “Tildy got those as a gift from the artist who illustrated one of the editions of her books. I don’t know if I ever mentioned this, but she used to research Scandinavian history before retiring.”

Johanna would most certainly take her time to appreciate the technique behind those paintings later, but Kaisa had already moved on. She showed her the family pictures on the mantelpiece, telling the history behind the ones that Johanna asked about. It was all very sweet, and she cooed several times while listening. It was hard to think of any families she’d ever met that loved one another as much as this one seemed to.

Even if they had apparently taken the day to get on Kaisa’s nerves, if Johanna was reading the situation even remotely correctly.

When they walked away from the living room again and Johanna asked what was in the room full of books, Kaisa smiled brightly and ushered her in with excitement.

“It’s our little library!” She declared as she held the door open for Johanna. “Originally, it was just Tildy’s office, but when I took to reading she installed more shelves and added a beanbag so I could keep her company while she worked. And then Frida came, hence the second beanbag.”

The room had an hexagonal shape, and every wall was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, save for a space for a big window. There was a desk with a typewriter, pens, and a comfortable looking chair tucked under it, and in front of it two beanbags: one purple and the other blue. It was majestic. The sort of thing she was not at all surprised to find in Kaisa’s home.

A tiny snoring sound drew Johanna’s attention to the fact that, beside the desk, there was a dog bed with a little creature soundly asleep in it.

“That’s Cornelius.” Kaisa said when she noticed Johanna looking at it. “He’s been Tildy’s since before I arrived. Good thing that he’s sleeping right now, he can be a bit… much, when awake.”

“He’s so cute!” It was true, even if Johanna couldn’t quite understand what position the dog was even laying in. Was that his head or his belly? He didn’t look like any dog she knew, more like a cloud who had gained free will and moved into an elderly lady’s home. “What breed is he?”

Kaisa blinked, as if it had never occurred to her to ask that question before. “I have no fucking idea.”

When she led her guest up the stairs, Johanna realised that that was where all the bedrooms were. Walking forward a couple of steps when they arrived at the upper floor, Kaisa’s was to the left, exactly above the library.

Holding the door open for her, Kaisa gestured for Johanna to follow inside. As soon as she did, she was struck by the distinct scent of lavender and green tea; she’d never been able to pinpoint what Kaisa smelled like from their brief hugs, only that it was pleasant, but stepping into a space that was entirely hers made it much more prominent. She could also see where the scent came from: there was an empty tea mug on her disorganised desk, along with scattered notes and an open book filled with highlights and annotations, and on the table by the side of her corner bed there was a mason jar with some fresh stems of lavender.

Johanna felt like she’d stepped into the room of a ghibli character.

“Sorry for the mess.” Closing the door behind her, Kaisa apologised, referring to the couple of clothes laid out on the bed and the remains of frantic revising on the desk. As she did so, she scratched at the silver band on her left middle finger with her right index one. A gentle breeze was coming in from the open window, making Johanna long to settle with a book on the cushioned windowsill seat. “Lost track of time this morning and forgot to put my stuff away.”

Johanna turned to her with a sympathetic smile. “Hey, we’re friends! You don’t have to hide any part of yourself from me. When people like each other, they enjoy even the messy parts, right?”

Just when Kaisa felt like she’d finally stopped blushing due to Tildy’s extremely unsubtle comments to Johanna, here she was, feeling her face heat up again. She really didn’t understand why, and blamed it on her friend being one of the only people she’d ever met to accept her so easily, and not be afraid to say it.

“Right. Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “Likewise, by the way. I bumped into Edmund the other day on campus, he said you’d been stressed about that cake you baked us not turning out how you wanted. You don’t have to try to impress me, I’m impressed enough already.”

Now Johanna didn’t know if the correct reaction to this was murdering her cousin in his sleep or bursting up into flames, but she somehow managed to keep it together and just smile at her friend. She turned away to pretend to analyse the room further, feeling her heart beating faster.

It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? That Kaisa would say something like this, and that all of her family would act like they were aware of something Johanna wasn’t and use it to drive them both mad? Maybe Johanna’s hope was making her connect all the wrong dots to draw a completely false picture - heavens knew it wouldn’t be the first time - but it had to mean something, right?

Her corner bed was couple-sized, which had Johanna wondering if Kaisa was a ‘starfish’ sleeper and actually needed all that space, or if she was a ‘cocoon’ and simply occupied a ridiculously small part of the bed. Either way, it looked like she wasn’t the only occupant of that space, because a couple of stuffed animals laid atop of it.

Johanna walked closer to them in order to inspect her collection. She recognized a butterfly with floppy blue wings, a squishmallow stylised like the Boogie Man from Nightmare Before Christmas, a pink axolotl, a pokemon whose name she didn’t know (but Edmund would certainly be able to tell her instantly) with a pikachu face on its head and two little eyes where she supposed its belly should be. There was only one she couldn’t understand. It was black, very much so, but it looked like a hybrid between a cat and an owl.

“These are so cute!” Johanna craned her neck to look back at her, noticing a flash of relief cross over her face. Was she expecting judgement for her stuffed collection, Johanna wondered. Because if she was, she was going to personally hunt down whoever gave her the idea that it was something to be ashamed of. “Can I pick one up?”

“Of course.”

Johanna took the cat/owl hybrid in her hands to inspect it more closely. It had big eyes and feathery wings, as well as soft plumes through the course of its tail. Two white fangs were embroidered poking out of its mouth.

“This one’s cute! What is it?”

“That’s Freya!” Kaisa explained as she stepped to Johanna’s side, happy to have been asked about it. “She’s a catowl. She’s… not real, obviously. When I was little I’d ask Tildy to make up stories for me, and she one day told me one about the adventures of a catowl cub. I became obsessed with it and constantly asked her to tell me more of them. So for my birthday, she commissioned someone to sew it for me. I’ve had many stuffed animals in my life, most of which I donate when I feel like it’s time they move on, but this one I’ve always refused to let go of.”

It was only by a miracle Johanna wasn’t tearing up when she thanked Kaisa for the story. Seriously, there was something about that family that made Johanna feel like vomiting a rainbow. If she wasn’t head over heels for one of her daughters, she might just run downstairs and beg Tildy to adopt her too, nevermind that she was legally an adult already.

Placing Freya back on the mattress with the care that she deserved, Johanna turned her gaze to the opposite wall, the one against which the study desk was, noticing that it was covered in framed documents. A quick scan through a couple told her all she needed to know about them.

They were certificates. Of competitions, of successful exams, of course completions, of academic excellence. Just looking at the amount of them felt dizzying, and awakened in Johanna a feeling she would rather not allow to flourish, not in a pleasant moment like this, and not ever.

“Ah.” Kaisa breathed when she followed Johanna’s line of sight. “Sorry. I know this must look self-centred. Tildy encourages me to do it.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think it was.” Johanna said, and then cringed at how robotic her voice sounded for a moment. As her mind processed it, she found she needed to ask for clarification. “You mean she encourages you to do all these things, or to put up the frames?”

“The last one.” She answered readily. Of course, Tildy had always been her number one supporter, and any win she got made her mother so happy for her it might as well have been her own success. But there was always something so sad in the woman’s face whenever she noticed how her daughter brushed off any of those accomplishments, and how quickly she ignored her latest ones to go look for another way to prove herself.

Who it was that she was trying so hard to impress was something Kaisa was still trying to answer.

“So you don’t forget how much you have done already.” Was the answer she’d gotten when she was a teen and had asked why Tildy insisted on putting them up. She’d accepted that explanation, and allowed the woman to do as she pleased; it wasn’t like she had been using that wall for anything else, anyway. There had been one time, however, in which she’d gotten a reply that was slightly different, a moment in which Tildy had let her worries slip from her.

She’d been about to put up the framed certificate of a weekend course which Kaisa had skipped her last High School dance to attend. It had caused some trouble between her and the girl she’d agreed to attend with, but it wasn’t like she could force Kaisa to go when she didn’t want to anymore. The girl hadn’t spoken to her again after that day, but Kaisa told herself she preferred being alone, anyway. When Tildy had walked into the room to do it, Kaisa had been studying at her desk, not failing to notice the tight lines on her face. She’d ever gently given her daughter her opinion on not showing up to an important milestone in order to study when Kaisa had told her she was planning on doing it, but it hadn’t been listened to simply because Kaisa felt it was something that would look good on her application. So when she walked into the room, Kaisa had quipped.

“Why put it up if you hate it so much?”

The answer she’d gotten was very much not as light hearted.

“Because I keep hoping that when you eventually run out of space on this wall, you’ll finally realise that you can’t fill your life with anything meaningful like this.”

That night, Tildy had walked out of her room with no further comments, leaving behind a Kaisa that was well and truly alone. And the worst thing had been knowing it was her own doing.

She was snapped out of her memories by Johanna’s soft voice, sounding very much like she was having flashbacks of her own.

“There’s one just like this back at my parents’ house.” She said with a ghostly quality to her words, like she was either talking about a dead thing, or about something she hoped was dead. Memories of days spent lying on her bed, hating herself for not managing to study or prepare for an exam floated around her mind, as well as those of nights spent awake at her study desk without remembering to so much as drink water, but Kaisa could see neither. “But it wasn’t for me. It was in the living room, for everyone else.”

Failing to pick up on why that would be something that would bring her distress, Kaisa looked at her with a smile filled with a sense of kinship and pride.

“An overachiever as well, are you?”

“I was.” Still looking at the wall, Johanna answered. Kaisa didn’t think she’d ever seen her sound so sad, and it both baffled her and made her want to do anything to bring back the Golden Retriever she’d known, even if she had to collect every single frame and throw it out of the window. That girl being upset looked like something that should be illegal. “In many ways, still am. But I’ve been working hard to heal.”

Kaisa opened her mouth, meaning to ask why that was something she felt she needed to ‘heal’ from, but for some reason, nothing came out. Maybe she didn’t know how to ask. Maybe she just already knew the answer. Either way, it didn’t last long, because there was a knock on the door that brought them back to reality, and they heard Frida’s voice from the other side.

“Lunch is ready!” She declared, making them switch glances of relief and excitement. Neither had noticed how hungry they were. The fact that it came with an excuse to postpone this conversation was just a bonus.

Looking at her with a mischievous glint in her eyes now, Johanna was about to propose something when she noticed Kaisa was thinking the same thing. They smirked to each other, wondering who would be the one to make the first move.

And set off in a race to the dining room.

#SOOOOO many thanks to blaithnne for talking about adhd to me :''')#I wanted to adhd-code Johanna but I don't know nearly enough. They helped me a lot <3 #my fic #fic: cd #verse: carpe diem #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda #sketchbook ship fanfic #kaisa hilda #johanna hilda #tildy hilda #sketchbook college au

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creativemessbyvd · 2 months

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Creative Mess by VD Blog Guide

Welcome to my writing blog! Mostly for writing related reblogs and my fic ideas that might one day become full fics. My main is @Vesta Dragon for all the reblogs of many, many fandoms. Here are some quick links to my most used tags here, my published fics and a complete (and updating!) list of my fic ideas, enjoy!

MY WRITING TAGS

#my writing - posts about any writing of mine, ideas, snippets, chapters, etc.

#VD's fics - published fanfics, chapter posts or related posts of mine

#fic idea vault / fic idea vault ## - anything related to an idea, may include snippets

#my writing BTS - extra information for fics, worldbuilding mostly

MY PUBLISHED FICS ON AO3

The Horror and the Wild | IT Chapter 2 Fix-It fic | COMPLETE

- "If you could, little one, would you help them?” Georgie has never felt more sure of anything in his short life. Even if he had to see the clown again, Georgie would do it. He would be brave for Billy. He nods, and Mat the Great Turtle smiles, and bows down until his nose can ruffle Georgie’s hair. Georgie asks the great Turtle God to let him help out his brother and his friends. Knowing that his power is very limited, that Pennywise will return much earlier being unsatisfied thanks to the Losers’ meddling and that Georgie wishes to keep everyone alive, Mat the Turtle sends Georgie before IT’s return to gather the Losers and help them destroy the alien menace. Georgie’s biggest obstacle will not be the alien, but rather convincing his brother and his old friends that the 18-year-old is the 7-year-old that got eaten by the alien they forgot about. Fix-it fic for the movies-verse! All of the Losers are in their 20’s and Georgie is 18 and back by Turtle Magic. Warning for Character Dead but that’s just Georgie and he is not dead after the first chapter.

Lay All Your Love On Me - Mamma Mia AU | Bagginshield / The Hobbit Movies | UPDATED APRIL 2024!

Frodo Baggins is getting married, and he has invited his three possible dwarrow fathers – but did not tell his Hobbit father. He doesn’t have a death wish. He just wants to fill the hole he has had his whole life. And he’ll know when he sees his father, and everything will be alright in the world. Bilbo already had stress with the wedding, he did NOT need all three of his exes at his Hotel after 20 years. Why would all three show up and on THIS weekend in particular? Valar help him. This will be a weekend no one will soon forget. - Mamma Mia! AU with the Hobbit characters!

At Least Out Loud, I Won't Say I'm in Love - Hercules AU | RadioApple / Hazbin Hotel

After Lucifer's intervention, Roo orders Alastor to find any and all weaknesses of the King, by any means necessary. But with the Sin of Wrath there to help Lucifer and Charlie get back on their feet, this will not be easy. Alastor is sure that his front of snark-turned-to-fondness will not turn into genuine feelings, he has been there and done that. He will get Roo what she wants and get his soul back, but will his head and heart be on the same page once him and the King grow closer? Lucifer must take control of his life, for his kingdom and for his daughter. Staying close to Alastor to keep an eye on him and trying to get along will just be better for his headaches, he tells himself. But Lucifer has never been one to listen to reason when his heart latches onto something, and getting to know Alastor will change a lot of things. Can friendship and love prevail when those closest to us betray us?

Fic Idea Vault:

#1 Guardians of Arcadia - post-Wizards idea (Guardian of Arcadia) - Tales of Arcadia Netflix show

#2 Honey, I've changed so much since I last saw ya (Brainwashed Carmen Sandiego) - Carmen Sandiego Netflix show

#3 3 sets of idiots meet to implode the universe + Artoo (3 sets of idiots) - Star Wars (Main 9 films)

#4 I wasn't worth his change (Ahsoka + Good Place) - Star Wars (Clone Wars and The Mandalorian show)

#5 Dinluke Mulan AU (Dinluke Mulan AU) - Star Wars (The Mandalorian show)

#6 Brother Bear Inspired Bagginshiled AU (Brother Bear AU) - The Hobbit films

#7 Padmé Time Travel AU - Star Wars (Prequels, Clone Wars)

#8 Disaster Lineage Encanto AU - Star Wars (Prequels, Clone Wars)

#9 B99 SW AU: The Galaxy's Finest #9 Post 2 Snippet - Star Wars (All media)

#10 A Fix-It Fic set after Jedi Fallen Order and with a slight different Order 66 (Fix-it JFO) #10 Post 2 Snippet - Star Wars (Prequels, Clone Wars, Jedi Fallen Order video game)

#11 The Shadows' Plan - Star Wars (Prequels, Clone Wars)

#12 Getting adopted *name in progress, first fic The Scorpion's Redemption #12 Post 2 Scorpion's Redemption snippet - Star Wars (Prequels, Clone Wars, The Mandalorian show, Obi Wan Kenobi show)

#13 NANDERMO SOULMATES/REINCARNATED/ROLE SWAP AU (I GUESS?) (Nandermo Soulmates AU) - What We Do in the Shadows TV show

#14 Han's brilliant plan - Time travel SW AU (Han's brilliant plan) - Star Wars (Prequels, Clone Wars, Original Trilogy, The Mandalorian show)

#15 Afterlife reunion Bagginshield AU (afterlife reunion) - The Hobbit films

#16 The comeback of Radio - Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss universe

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#writing meme - self-explanatory

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#personal - my own posts, not about my writing or ideas

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koishua · 2 years

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𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ─── 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

synopsis: in which it's eleven pm and he is forgiven once more. (idol!hoon) warnings: mentions of overwork and talks about concerning eating habits from stress. (1.633k words). heavy angst.

author's note: now tell me why was i in a writer's block for an entire month and could not write more than 200 words in an entire day and suddenly i do this *gestures wildly at this post* in a single sitting?? ig it's the magic of writing pure angst, vie's favourite genre smh

a bittersweet feeling lingers in the air between your two figures, lit only barely by the glow of the moonlight penetrating the heavy curtains of the bedroom. he's late again.

another day you'd spent alone and the house had felt empty without it's second occupant to roam through it. you hadn't done anything particularly taxing, yet exhaustion seeps out of your body, weary and worn down. you wonder if this is it.

you don't have to look at your partner's face to know how his lips are pursed. he's fiddling around with his fingers, shoulders hunched— it's the first time you've seen him this nervous in a long while. there are tears sunghoon is holding back, you know it. you also know that you're simply tired— of the lack of conversation, of the unkept promises, of the constant disappearances.

he's aware of everything he has and has not done for you. sunghoon knows he is hard to love. he acknowledges that he will always have to sacrifice one thing for the other as long as he works for the job he has, pouring all of his blood, sweat and tears into the art of performance. he knows, more than anyone else, that he is just not a good lover.

he does love, and he loves you so much— moreso than any words or expressions can ever convey. he adores you deeply and endlessly, but love alone is not enough. that, he knows too.

tonight, sunghoon fears.

he knows that he is late, not that he'd even been present the last two weeks since the height of the comeback preparations. torn between the two pillars of his life, his love and his art, he'd chosen work again. he always had and would probably always do.

for a moment as he searches your eyes for any sign of anger, he wishes he'd never found success in music. maybe then, he wouldn't have had to fear that a day like this would come. a nightmare disguised as his childhood dreams, he hadn't realized how much he'd be forced to lose down the path he'd chosen with his own two hands and feet, walking voluntarily towards a life of fame and pressure.

he can't read your eyes tonight, so sunghoon fears.

you're now looking at him, but he isn't sure if you're seeing him. eyes boring into his very soul, he isn't able to tell if you're angry or not and that alone makes his heart clench in a way it has never done before. you're not angry, nor are you sad.

worse, his mind grapples against the cold bite of terror as he comes to the following conclusion: you're tired of him. tonight, he realizes, everything changes.

his heart feels as though it's going to beat right out of his chest and his mind is going through every single worst possible scenarios. he gulps, unable to form any words of apology on his lips, untrusting of his wavering voice. so you take the first step— again, you are the one.

"have you eaten yet?" you ask him, breaking the bout of silence. sunghoon is stunned, breath hitched. and then he cries.

he cries more than he has ever in his life. heavy drops of tears slide down at a constant pace, dripping down his chin as he bites his lips hard, trying to contain the dam that's been waiting to burst open. he knows you're watching.

he knows that you're watching. sunghoon knows that you have no reason to be so kind to him. he knows that you deserve so much better and that you should have just left when you so easily could. he knows that you're fed up with always being the second priority, of never having been his first choice between you and his work— his fans. he knows, better than anyone else in the world, that he is undeserving of another chance when he has, for so long, not been anything but a thorn you have been forcing yourself to hold.

forgiveness has never made him feel guiltier— it's ugly and weighs heavily on his shoulders. you forgive him again and this time, sunghoon feels devastated. his throat feels like it's closing up and he can't breathe, the sobs that inevitably rack his body are muffled by the fabric of your hoodie as he grips it as though his life depends on you staying by his side, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist while he cries in your embrace.

sunghoon is forgiven again. you pat his back, smoothing your hand over his shirt, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he calms down from his breakdown. his hiccups ebb away into mere shaky breaths as the clock ticks forward second by second.

his fists still clench the cotton hoodie as if afraid you'd leave any moment. relief surfaces from the bottom of his aching chest and it's in that moment he makes a promise. it's not verbal, nor is it for you to hear. it's a vow of repentance and apology.

you don't need to hear the words i'm sorry from him— not anymore, at least. he has uttered those countless times before, repeating it over and over again senselessly. he has done it too many times, breaking his promise, that even he wouldn't believe it sometimes.

tonight, however, he'd truly feared.

"no," he mumbles, trying to hide his shame, "i haven't." he doesn't lie tonight, doesn't hide anything. true and raw, he gives in to you. he hadn't eaten in a day, too preoccupied with everything. distantly, he wonders if he's doing wrong for clinging on like this— for selfishly letting you stay when he'd done you wrong many times over.

park sunghoon decides to be selfish for one last time tonight. he slowly, very slowly, pulls away from you and you see for the first time the eyes of a broken man. it's in the redness of his once bright eyes, the tear-stricken face, the lifeless, hollow look he gives you.

this is him.

torn down from the years of being a public figure, from the countless hours of merciless dance practices, from the scrutiny and judgement— this is sunghoon, your partner in life, best friend, lover. this is him, the one that only you had ever seen. this is what both of you had signed up for. you couldn't leave him alone, not when no one else in this world would ever understand him the way you do.

"you have to eat something." you whisper, letting a stray tear escape. his thumb brushes it gently away and you hesitate for a small breadth of a moment. it hurts, you can't deny that prickly little fact.

it hurts to always have to compromise, to always have to worry about his health, to always have to give and not often receive— to always have to be the one waiting and waiting and waiting. but it's sunghoon you're doing all of this for and you know that he needs you and you need him. you don't want to let go, but holding on has become harder and harder every day.

with only so much strength left, you don't know how much longer this will last, this you and him. your only wish is for that moment to never arrive.

"i don't want to." sunghoon responds and you know he is telling the truth again. you rest your forehead against his, intertwining your fingers with a sigh, "i'm worried, though. you have to eat something."

you're caring for him again. a desire to fall onto the floor and weep passes through him when he finds a clear reflection of himself in your eyes. the look you give him through your lashes conveys your most genuine feelings for him and this time, he can read them clearly.

"i don't think i'm worthy of anything you give me." he admits, swallowing down a lump forming in his throat. "i love you so much. i love you more than i could ever count and i love you with everything i have, but i can't give you all of me. i can't be there for you a lot of the times and i keep hurting you without ever meaning to. you call for me, but i never come. you let me in and i'm not doing anything other than destroying everything you've built for me inside your heart. i can't be the person you deserve to have by your side, so why do you still care?"

you're breathless by the time he finishes pouring his heart and soul out to display in front of you. it's a spectacle to watch him come undone, to finally hear what you did not know you'd needed to hear.

"sunghoon," you urge him to look up, "i love you too, and i will keep on loving you for as long as i stand, living and breathing and even beyond then. i know you better than anyone else in this entire world and know, that you're struggling. i'm not mad at you, hoon. sure, i have had more than enough because of your absence, but i know that things will get easier soon. i don't want to give up on our promise of eternity, sunghoon."

you take a deep breath in. holding up your joined hands, you place a tender kiss between his furrowed brows. "i'm not leaving. i won't leave, so please, let's try this again."

"thank you," he breathes out, dizzy from the relief. try again, yes. he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into a warm embrace. placing his other hand on the back of your head, he gently strokes it, whispering countless more thank yous in your ear.

life returns to his eyes, "let's try again."

taglist one. @shekllls @eternallyhyucks @yjwfav @beyondthesheets @speckled-sunshine @luvningkai @youreverydayzebra @ilandsghost @yongmins @nikis-mum @w3bqrl @candysofthours @moontines @rielleluvs @heefused @squiishymeow @just-uaau @catecita @namjoo-jay @shrutiajit @baekhyunstruly @changmin-wrlds @changminurheart @chewychubchuu @taegicarus @marknaeroni @enhacolor @heelariously @chaebb @nshitae @clarakyunisageek @i-m4rk @aeonghaseyo @xiaosimp3 @misah0e @ily-cuz-i @jungwoniics @enha-hwajinna @todorokiskitten @notcamila

#enhypennetwork #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen x gender neutral reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon x reader

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lieutenant-catboy-little · 2 years

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Hear Me Out: There Should Have Been More Survival Cannibalism in The Terror (2018)

A James Fitzjames-centric Analysis

Hello and welcome to me talking a lot about survival cannibalism, which is one of my very normal special interests lol. Obviously, if you don’t want to read about that, death, violence, etc., please do not keep reading. Also, huge shoutout to @lucillesharpie for brainstorming and editing help and my dear friend studying dietetics who was delightfully willing to answer the question “if you eat the body of someone with scurvy, will it cure your scurvy?”.

(also, check the self-reblog for sources and a link to some gorgeous art, also by @lucillesharpie!)

Before we dig in (lol), there are a few important pieces of context. First, for the purpose of this post, survival cannibalism is eating the body of a dead person, as a last and only resort to prevent starvation. I am not including any form of murder cannibalism (killing someone to eat them) in this definition because that’s an important distinction between Hickey and the others (and in my opinion, the murder outweighs the survival). Another important piece of context is the custom of the sea, which was the shared understanding between sailors that in shipwrecks, cannibalism was often unavoidable and acceptable. Sometimes this was true survival cannibalism, but in the absence of corpses, sailors might draw lots to decide who would be killed to feed the others (and the draw was not always random). Finally, to get my bias out of the way, I (unsurprisingly) see no issue whatsoever with survival cannibalism, so that’s the premise this post proceeds from.

The Terror touches only lightly on survival cannibalism and takes a negative-to-neutral-stance on it. We get three instances of cannibalism in the show: Hickey murdering Gibson to eat him (not survival cannibalism), Goodsir poisoning then killing himself and being eaten (weaponized (?) survival cannibalism), and shots of body parts in cooking pots at the final camp. There are two plot-relevant discussions of cannibalism: Fitzjames asking Crozier to use his body to feed the men, and Goodsir and Crozier’s discussion of if and how Crozier should eat Goodsir’s body. Notably, Crozier does not directly respond to Fitzjames’s request (perhaps a kindness, as he does not intend to honor it) and only eats some of Goodsir’s body with his explicit permission and under duress. Goodsir also refuses to eat any of Gibson’s body and tries to poison those who would cannibalize him. Crozier and Goodsir are the closest that The Terror has to moral centers (at least among the expedition), so it is significant that both seem reluctant to participate in cannibalism, even in cases where permission is given. The show doesn’t condemn survival cannibalism, as both Fitzjames’s offer and the final-camp-cannibalism are presented without judgment. However, Crozier’s response to it suggests that, while it is not irredeemable, it might be better to die and maintain more honor and humanity than to participate in survival cannibalism – whether it is worth it depends on how desperate you are to survive and what cost you are willing to pay.

Instead of being presented as a repulsive (but not inherently evil) method of survival, I think survival cannibalism could have been used to support the show’s theme that human love and tenderness (SORRY) persist in dire circumstances and are as important to survival as material resources. Fitzjames’s death would have been the perfect opportunity to make this point, because he explicitly requests that his body be used as food, saying “My body. Use it. Feed the men.” This is arguably the most morally-favorable scenario for survival cannibalism, and thus has the most potential to reinforce the theme that love sustains: someone offers their body out of love and that love becomes a gift of life. However, Crozier barely acknowledges and does not follow this request. It is especially strange because Fitzjames’s request is similar to Crozier’s declaration that they will abandon the tents before they abandon men; it is a sacrifice for the sake of everyone’s survival. Maybe Crozier believes that they won’t survive (doubtful, considering how he continues to push himself and his men south), so he would rather act with as much honor and kindness as possible, instead of maximizing the chance that at least some men will live. Is refusing to eat Fitzjames an act of honor, or does it dishonor his request? I wish the show had explored it more, because following Fitzjames’s request would allow his love to be made into life, supporting the theme that love sustains.

Now is a good time for a practical interlude: how helpful would it have been for the men to eat Fitzjames’s body? It would have provided calories, which, while not in plentiful supply at this juncture, were not critically low. However, any food saved at that time would help later. It would not have helped with scurvy – if there was vitamin C in Fitzjames’s body, he would have been healthier, and someone eating his body would not derive vitamin C from it where he could not. I imagine that Fitzjames’s body had a lower concentration of lead than the tins, which would have been beneficial. Of course, any benefit would have been limited because his body would only provide a small amount of meat for each person. However, I don’t think the point is whether Fitzjames’s body would have made the difference between survival and death. The point would be that Fitzjames’s love was life-giving, at least in that moment, and that this gift would be all he could give, so that is what matters.

It is significant that it is Fitzjames who offers this, both for his character arc and the theme that love sustains. Fitzjames’s sense of self was so important and so fragile at the beginning of the show, and he wrapped himself in stories and status to establish his value as an individual. In Episode Nine, however, he is willing to not just give up a proper burial, to likely have his name spoken in hushed, shameful tones, and to have his body’s ultimate fate never plainly addressed, but to literally let his self be broken into pieces and absorbed by other men. His conversation with Crozier in Episode Eight where he gains acceptance despite admitting that he is an “imposter” is perhaps the first time he feels at peace with who he is, because someone else has seen it and loved him for it, and his offer in Episode Nine is an extension of that growth. He’s willing to give himself up to sustain those he loves, because he has learned being vulnerable and allowing others to be vulnerable with him strengthen who he is. Love has sustained him, and in turn his love can sustain others.

Fitzjames’s offer allows him to fulfill a role he finally feels fit for, in the most honest way he can. In Episode Two, he tells Franklin that “How any man achieves his post on an expedition is less important than how he spends it….that he measures up,”. Fitzjames feels shame for how he was chosen for this expedition (helping Sir John Barrow’s son), so he must do well to justify that choice, and prove that he is not a fraud (just as he has tried to do with all his heroic acts). He admires how both his firsts fulfill their roles, saying that they love their men “More than God loves them”. Notably, he says this about Crozier after Crozier orders Terror Camp’s remaining supplies left as an offering for the mutineers. In his death scene, Fitzjames mirrors those compliments to his firsts by saying to Crozier (after telling him to use his body to feed the men) that “God wants you to live”. Fitzjames is mimicking Crozier: by leaving his body as a clear offering to the men, he is fulfilling his role as a captain in the utmost way he possibly can. By association with Crozier’s gift and Fitzjames's deathbed reference to God, it is also an act of holy love. This is not something Fitzjames sees as shameful, or that he feels reluctant about; this is ordained. The way that religiosity plays into Fitzjames’s offering is also important because it is such a contrast to the religiosity of Hickey’s cannibalism. Not only is it a genuine offering (unlike Gibson), but it is deeply practical; this is not communion (Fitzjames also says “I am not Christ”), not about elevating Fitzjames (or, in Hickey’s case, inspiring his men to worshipful fear and adoration), this is simple, unselfish love. Fitzjames is simply fulfilling his role, not the role he would have chosen, not the one he would once have spun around himself, but the one he has been given and one he can fulfill without pretense. It is not glorious, but it is beautiful. Fitzjames knows that he will die, but God wants his men to live, so it his holy purpose to feed them. That Fitzjames accepts this inglorious role with grace and the contrast between him and Hickey emphasize that Fitzjames makes this decision out of love. Fitzjames’s love for his men, in the model of his first, in the model of God, could have been transformed into a sustaining force, the most generous and vital gift he could have given.

While Fitzjames simply offering his body as food supports the character growth and theming I have described, Crozier honoring his request would have made the argument stronger (especially if contrasted with the cannibalization of Goodsir’s body). I wish they had explored this element of survival cannibalism more, but I understand that they were limited by time and societal taboos (although the taboos are a reason to explore it in and of themselves!). However, there are documented cases of loving and respectful survival cannibalism, and The Terror could have incorporated such a narrative to excellent effect.

As a bonus, I’m going to recount a summary of one such case – it’s not essential to the post above, but I think it’s interesting and adds yet more evidence of how effective a different approach to cannibalism could have been. Read on if you want!

In 1979, a Cessna 172 Skyhawk plane crashed in the Rocky Mountains of Idaho, USA. It was carrying four passengers: Norm Pischke, the pilot, and three family members: Don Johnson, Donna Johnson, Don’s daughter, and Brent Dyer, Don’s son-in-law and Donna’s brother-in-law. Don died during the first night after the crash, and the pilot died soon after, as he tried to walk out to look for help (neither Donna or Brent could walk at that point). The first night, before Don died, he put his jacket over Donna, which saved her life. At the time, Brent said of this act, “He’s dead, but he wants us to live” (compare that to “God wants you to live”). After they had exhausted their meager food supply and realized that they needed to gain strength to live and to walk out, they prayed, and determined that they would eat Don’s body, because he wanted them to live. In addition, part of why they were so determined to survive is because Don so clearly wanted them to live. There is a depth of appreciation for Don’s life and gift, and an understanding of his love for them that allowed it. A similar story could have easily been told as a part of The Terror, strengthening the show by demonstrating the importance of love and gratitude in survival.

#the terror #the terror analysis #analysis #my writing #survival cannibalism #james fitzjames #francis crozier #harry goodsir #cornelius hickey #william gibson #by lieutenant catboy

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 301: All My Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: We learned that when a bunch of superpowered villains are suddenly set loose with nobody around to stop them, things get fucked pretty quickly. Old Man Samurai and a bunch of other useless people decided to make “I pretend I do not see it” their new mantra, and resigned. Endeavor had a moment of despair on account of being crushed by the guilt of having ruined the lives of himself, his family, and basically everyone else in the entire world. For various reasons the heretical notion of “person who has done bad things feels sorry for doing them” sent fandom spiraling into a meltdown, so that was fun. The chapter ended with the entire Todoroki clan descending upon Enji’s hospital room to have a dramatic chat about Touya and All That General Fuckery.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “here’s the story of how Baby Touya slowly went insane trying to win his father’s love.” It’s a tale full of subverted expectations and heartbreaking inevitability, and also like twenty panels of the cutest fucking kids who ever existed on planet earth, who are so fucking cute that I can’t stop thinking about their cuteness even with all of the horrifying family tragedy unfolding around them. It is absolutely ridiculous how cute they are. Touya is out here pushing his tiny body past its limits because he inherited the same obsession as his dad and neither of them can put it aside even though it’s destroying them, and yet all I can think about is Baby Shouto’s (。･o･｡) face. Anyways what a chapter.

so I have to confess that even though I managed to avoid being caught off-guard by the early leaks, the number of people reblogging my Endeavor posts from earlier this week and using the tag “bnha 301” kind of gave me an inkling that this chapter will include more Tododrama lol. that said, I don’t know anything else about it, so we’re still good spoiler-wise

AHHHHH FLAHSBAKC AHHHH. omg I know I typoed the shit out of that, but I’m just going to leave it lol I think it’s fitting

holy shit holy fuck. so this is Rei and Enji’s first meeting, then??

yepppp, oh shit

so wait, I know this is not even the slightest bit important, but are they meeting at Enji’s home or Rei’s? because I always figured that Enji was the one with the super-Japanese aesthetic, but maybe that was Rei’s side of the family all along

(ETA: from what I found during my very brief google search, omiai meetings are often held at fancy hotels or restaurants, so maybe that’s what this is.)

there’s such a period drama feel to this setting. like it’s so outrageously formal fff how can anyone stand this kind of atmosphere though seriously

OH THANK GOD

I mean they’re still stiff af but at least they’re not rigidly sitting in seiza and staring at each other unblinkingly anymore lol. Enji’s actually got his hands in his pockets now. why is this somehow almost cute

oh damn it’s the flowers

Rei seems so subdued and it’s so hard to get any idea of what she’s actually thinking. I want to see her side of this dammit

but anyway, so at least from Enji’s perspective it seems like even though the marriage was arranged and he picked her because of her quirk, he still loved his wife and wanted to do right by her. the fact that he was watching her and noticed that she liked the flowers, and remembered that detail for all these years -- there’s a reason why Horikoshi’s showing us this. we know what’s going to happen later on; we know how much fear and violence and breaking of trust is coming up ahead, and while it may seem like this scene is serving to soften Enji’s character further -- which to be fair it is -- it also helps drive home the full impact of his abuse. that it’s so terrible not only because of the trauma of the abuse itself, but also because of the way it retroactively destroys all of the good things as well. this could have potentially been such a sweet scene, but it’s inescapably tainted by the knowledge of what’s to come, at least for me. and that’s just brutal

anyways, shit. is the whole chapter going to be like this?? feel free to toss in something I can actually make a joke about sometime, Horikoshi

oop, back to the present

omfg lol

“are you all right” “NO I’M NOT ALL RIGHT WHAT THE FUCK.” “oh, right, because of all the stuff that’s happened with me abusing you and you having a mental breakdown and being hospitalized for ten years and then our son coming back to life and killing thirty people, right, right. I almost forgot.” whoops

omfg you guys I’m loving this new and improved steely-eyed Rei. I’m loving her a lot

and what do you mean “part one” fkjds how long is this going to be. TOO MUCH DRAMA FOR ONE CHAPTER TO HANDLE

oh, hello

yeah I’ll say you did. didn’t seem to bother you much at the time, though

HMMMMMMMMMMMM

Dabi Is A Noumu intensifies even further. anyways though would you fucking look at this boy lounging on this moth-eaten couch doing his best DRAW ME LIKE YOUR FRENCH GIRLS impression wtf

Dabi what if you actually had killed him??? what would you feel?? satisfaction?? regret?? anything at all?? tell me your secrets goddammit

who are you talking to buddy

Fuyumi-chan, Natsu-kun (is it common for brothers to address each other as -kun?? can’t recall seeing that in many other anime, but hey), and “dot dot dot,,,,,, SHOUTO” lol thank you so much for this bountiful heaping of Tododrama Horikoshi we are blessed

AH, WHAT DID I SAY THE OTHER DAY

ULTIMATE MELODRAMATIC THEATER CHILD. “I’M JUST GOING TO LIE ON THIS COUCH SHIRTLESS AND ALONE AND MAKE SPEECHES TO MY FAMILY MEMBERS WHO AREN’T THERE AND SAY THINGS LIKE ‘WATCH ME IN THE PITS OF HELL’ WITH A STRAIGHT FACE BECAUSE NO ONE’S THERE TO JUDGE ME.” WELL JOKE’S ON YOU MISTER CHATTERBOX BECAUSE I AM IN FACT JUDGING THE SHIT OUT OF YOU LOL

(ETA: and on a more serious note, it’s interesting to see that “look at me”/”watch me” theme being used again though, because we see that same sentiment uttered repeatedly by the younger Touya in the flashback. well kid, you definitely got your wish at last. don’t know what else to say.)

OKAY HORIKOSHI HAS DECIDED THAT’S ENOUGH FUN, TIME FOR MORE FLASHBACKS

oh my sweet precious lord

just as cute as we left him. giving us a child this cute when we all know full well what’s going to happen to him is just unspeakably cruel though

HOMG

I’m fucking speechless. you broke me, congratulations. what am I even supposed to do with this

I can’t get over this. moving forward my life will be split into two distinct parts, B.P. (Before the Pout) and A.P. (After the Pout)

and meanwhile there’s ALL THIS BACKGROUND ANGST BUILDING UP, AND I CAN’T EVEN FOCUS ON IT. Touya’s arm and cheek are covered in bandages (I’m guessing this is shortly after that “ouch!” panel we got some chapters back), and Enji is deliberately avoiding training with him because he doesn’t want him to hurt himself further. I can’t fucking get over the irony that all this time everyone thought Touya had died because Enji pushed him too far in his training, and it turns out that it’s the opposite -- the tragedy ultimately happened because he didn’t want to push him. but I’m jumping ahead of myself though I guess

by the way,

remember this?? just wanted to remind you that it exists just in case you forgot

so now someone is talking and basically saying that Touya is the exact opposite of what Enji was hoping for when he decided to start playing with quirk genetics

-- okay hold up

...lol no, never mind. for a second I thought “holy shit he looks kind of familiar WHAT IF IT’S UJIKO OMG” before I remembered that Enji would have recognized him during the hospital capture mission if that was the case. so NEVER MIND, PROCEED

IMAGINE THAT, ENJI DOESN’T QUITE SEEM SATISFIED WITH THIS SUGGESTION OF QUITTING NOW

(ETA: how the fuck did this man go around saving 62 towns in a single day what even is All Might.)

[clicks tongue several times] trouble a’brewin’

MEANWHILE BABY TOUYA HAS UNFORTUNATELY INHERITED HIS DAD’S STUBBORN STREAK

KLDIHWOEIJFL:KSDJ

!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god. oh my god. what is this chapter. WHAT IS IT

so now Touya is all “YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND MY MANLY DESIRE TO BURN MYSELF ALIVE” well you got her there champ

THEY’RE TOO CUTE. OH MY GOD. HIS FURIOUS LITTLE TEARS. HER CHUBBY LIL FACE. HIS STUBBY LIL FISTS. SOMEONE HELP ME

also are they just home alone lol or what. “hey Touya, you’re what, like six now?? do us a favor and look after your baby sister for a couple hours for us would you? make sure not to set yourself on fire or anything.” WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG!!

now it’s nighttime and Enji and Rei are arguing, presumably about his decision not to train Touya anymore

whew. okay. so, a couple of things here

1. first of all I think this conclusively shows that Enji really was trying to do the best he could for Touya. he stopped training him as soon as he realized it was hurting him, but Touya was still determined so he tried to make it work anyway, and even visited doctors to try and figure out if there was anything they could do. then, once they were absolutely sure that it wasn’t going to work, he tried multiple times to explain to Touya why they had to stop. he didn’t just abandon him out of the blue, which is really important to note. “no matter how much I tried telling him...”

so yeah, that debunks another common fandom accusation. so by the time he finally makes this decision, which we all know is going to turn out horribly, it’s basically because he’s already tried everything else he could think of. which, by the way, still doesn’t mean he handled this right. but at the very least he was taking Touya’s feelings into account and he was trying, and he didn’t just abruptly toss his son aside (at least not yet)

2. buuuut, then there’s this panel right below all that

which is the other side of it. if he’d just quit like the doctor person advised him to, that would have been the end of it. Touya would still have been upset, but he would have eventually gotten over it and the family would have moved on and possibly even been happy. but what happens next happens because Enji can’t let go. he still has this maddening urge to surpass All Might, and so he and Rei keep having more children, and then Shouto is born, and Enji finally has a kid he can start projecting all of his hysterical ambitions onto once again, and everything starts spiraling out of control soon after

though p.s. none of that is Shouto’s fault though!! he’s one of the few good things to come out of this whole mess and I’m very happy that he exists. the tragedy is that his dad fucking lost his mind over his quirk and fucked everything up. but that’s on him, not Touya or Shouto

anyways, SLKFJLSHGLKJL

I CAN’T FUCKING TAKE THIS YOU GUYS??? LOOK AT THAT LIL BUTTON OF A NOSE??? I’M LOSING IT HERE???

AND TOUYA JUST SEEMS DEVASTATED OMG

because children aren’t stupid, after all. he understands that his dad is still looking to surpass All Might. and so he feels like a failure, and feels like his dad is trying to replace him because he wasn’t good enough. and even now, isn’t that what the adult Touya is trying to prove?? that he was good enough after all?? “I’ll show you what happens when you give up on me, dad”?? “I’ll show you what I can do”?? fuck my life fuck everything

AND YOU CAN SEE THE TOLL THAT IT’S ALL TAKING ON REI GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AS WELL OH GOD

really nice touch here with the panel outlines becoming all shimmery from the heat of Endeavor’s flames (and/or becoming more unstable as the family gets closer and closer to their breaking point). but man, Horikoshi I can’t handle this, please show us more cute kids or something I can’t

GKELKWFJLDKSHFLKL

WITTLE BABE. BEEB. BUBS. SMOL. lkj; oh ouch a piece of my heart just detached and latched onto him huh look at that

TODOROKI “I’M SO SMALL AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON AND I DIDN’T ASK TO BE HERE” SHOUTO AHHHHH

crazy how they all just seem to know right off the bat lol. kid doesn’t even have object permanence yet, let alone a quirk. but do they care?? IT’S THE HAIR, RIGHT. WE’RE ALL THINKING IT, I’M JUST GONNA COME OUT AND SAY IT. they knew the minute they looked at him lol

AND MEANWHILE TOUYA IS OFF HAVING UNSUPERVISED TRAINING/CRYING SESSIONS IN THE MOUNTAINS OR WHATEVER, AND, UH OH

are those blue flames yet?? they seem pretty close

(ETA: this is one of the few cases where the manga being in black and white is infuriating lol.)

OH MY GOD AND STILL

so it’s not like he was so disinterested that he didn’t notice what was happening, and he was still trying to stop it and get through to him. trying to reassure him that it wasn’t the end of the world and there were other things he could do with his life, but this one particular thing just wasn’t going to happen

fucking hell. it’s agonizing seeing how close they actually were to fixing it. if he’d only said the right words, or if he’d realized at this point how destructive his obsession could be to his kids, and backed off from putting that same pressure on Shouto. we came so close to possibly having a happy ending

AND ALSO THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING BUT PLEASE LOOK AT HOW TOUYA IS LIKE THREE AND A HALF FEET TALL AND HIS DAD IS LIKE NINE AND A HALF FEET. Touya barely comes past his knees flkjlkg. the Todoroki household must have been so filled with like plastic stepstools to reach the bathroom sink and all the little baby toothbrushes, and baby gates to keep the kiddos out of the important grown-up rooms and stuff. and also days-old half-empty cups of water and stale crackers and hot wheels and my little ponies strewn everywhere

“BUT EVERYONE AT SCHOOL SAYS THEY’RE GONNA BE HEROES” a wild Deku parallel appears?? how bout that

I know this is like a pivotal moment in the Todo Tragedy and all, but fucking look at this lil dumpling

“sup bro, it’s me, the manifestation of your fears of inadequacy and lack of fatherly affections. a GAAA. ba-baAA-baa [gurgling baby sounds]”

OHHHHH IT’S THE SOUND OF MY HEART BREAKING OH NO

HE WANTS TO BE LIKE YOU ENJI. good lord somebody please just get this family some therapy

“DAD YOU IGNITED IT IN ME” flkjslkj nope, nope. not ready for this pain here

baby Shouto, would you like to weigh in on this affair? “DA!! ba-ga-daaa, [pacifier chewing noises]” oh my, you don’t say. so insightful for one so young

OH MY GODDDDDD

IT’S SO DRAMATIC BUT ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT ARE THE SHOUNEN WOOSH LINES SURROUNDING FOUR-MONTH-OLD SHOUTO LOL HE WAS LIKE THIS FROM BIRTH OH MY GOD I AM DYING HELP

SHOUTO YOU’RE RUINING THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER!?!?!

“yo, the fuck kind of family was I fucking born into” oh, son. if you only knew. IF YOU ONLY KNEW!!

(ETA: lmao I got so distracted by the ridiculous cuteness that I glossed over the fact that Baby Touya seems to possibly be aiming at him?? it’s hard to tell because he’s also super out of it from heatstroke and may just be losing control in his attempt to show off his upgrade.)

ANYWAY THAT’S THE END EXCEPT WHAT’S THIS LAST LINE OMG

ffffff. and we’re in for ANOTHER chapter of this next week?? MORE drama?? MORE BABIES?? MORE OF EIGHT-YEAR-OLD TOUYA’S SLOW DESCENT INTO MADNESS. MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT, BUT ALSO YES PLEASE SIGN ME UP

#bnha 301 #dabi #todoroki touya #endeavor #todoroki enji #todoroki rei #todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki natsuo #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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all1e23 · 4 years

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Tricks & Treats

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Orion’s Halloween is quickly turning rotten until someone helps to turn her day around with a few sweet treats.

Warnings: N/A Unless you count a disgusting amount of fluff to be a warning.

A/N: A new Astrophile drabble! This is set in the very far future, Halloween 2042. Orion is 27 and it’s just the kiddos. No Beck or Bucky. This does have some bits (okay a lot of bits) of the the shared Price of Astrophile universe collab with Tara and if you haven’t read The Price of Gold you need to! Thank you to my beautiful @moonbeambucky for looking it over for me. If you have not read the series Astrophile, THERE WLL BE MAJOR SPOILERS.

Catch up on the series here!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!*

Halloween 2042

Today has been a disaster. A complete and utter nightmare. It started with spilling hot tea all over her copy of Star Lore and down the front of her favorite skirt, which forced Ori to settle for the little black number Cassie bought her as a Halloween costume. It’s supposed to be a cat but it’s really a dress accompanied by cat ears. It’s not that it’s awful, it’s not her usual taste. It’s a simple spaghetti strap dress, sweetheart necklace that doesn’t dip too low and cut just above her knee. As far as Halloween costumes go it’s fairly modest but it’s a little tight compared to the rest of Ori’s closet.

Little did she know that was just the beginning to her terrible day. This was the first day in months that Ori was running the store on her own. No mom to fall back on. Not that it hasn’t happened before. At fourteen Ori was working the floor by herself so none of this was new but, today has been a nightmare from the moment the doors opened. It was unusually busy for a holiday, especially Halloween. It wasn’t often that the store was packed with customers on a day like today and there were moments when Ori began to feel claustrophobic with the amount of people filling the tiny shop.

Half of the morning was spent on decorating the window display for a new series that was set to be released at the beginning of November. The copies were scheduled to be delivered today, but they never showed and when Ori called to check on their status, the man she was unlucky enough to be put in contact with screamed at her, explaining that it was a holiday and not everyone spent their lives working.

It was one of those days where she wished she was ten years old again and Bucky could swoop in and save the day.

By some miracle, there was a lull, and she was able to slip behind the counter where her phone is kept when she’s working the floor alone. She swiped away the missed calls from Cassie and ignored the texts from Leo. There was only one person who knew how to calm the swirling mess in her head right now and she knows how pathetic she looks, twenty-seven, and tears swimming in her eyes. She didn’t care because just hearing his voice would help settle her. Theo’s voice rang her ear and as happy as she was to hear it, part of her wished it wasn’t his voicemail.

“H-hey,” Ori’s voice cracked, she cleared her throat ridding it of the tears choking her. “I know you’re at work. I’m sorry I’m calling. Please tell me I didn’t get you in trouble. I’m so sorry if I did. I just… I needed to hear your voice. I’m having a really awful day. That party with Cassie is tonight. I don’t want to go even though Cassie says it will be fun. And this new series. This stupid dumb shipment. They said they would be here today and I spent all morning doing the window display between the mad rush of customers by the way, they never showed. When I called to check in they said they can’t get here because it’s a holiday and well, they yelled at me. Now, I have to find something to replace the window display and spend another hour fixing what I did this morning. The store is so incredibly busy. I haven’t even stopped for lunch. I’m hungry and tired and I hate this day. Great. Now, I’m whining. Did I mention that I miss you? Well, I do and-”

“Ma'am?” A deep voice grabs Ori’s attention and she turns around to find a man in a UPS shirt standing behind the counter, she smiles as kindly as she can and pulls the phone away from her mouth to answer him, “I’m so sorry. Can I help you?”

“We have your delivery.”

Ori can feel the color drain from her face. She shouldn’t have that many boxes and the publisher on the clipboard being handed to her isn’t right.

“Wait… No. No, I didn’t order that. That’s not mine-”

“Orion Barnes?”

“Well, yes that’s me but,” She sighs, holding back the whimper that’s threatening to escape her. “Can you hold on just one second?"

Ori didn’t wait for his okay like she normally would have, she stepped towards her office and put the phone back up to her ear, “I guess my terrible, awful, no good day isn’t over. Talk to you soon? I hope.”

Orion had her eyes glued to a stack of invoices in front of her when the bell above the shop door rang. Thankfully, she was able to clear up the whole shipping mixup, but dealing with that set her even further behind inventory. It didn’t matter much. She knew who it was without having to raise her head. Ori didn’t have to look up to know her sister had arrived. Cassie skipped nearly everywhere, she has since she was old enough to walk and between the jingling of the bracelets on her wrist, the massive keyring on her purse, and the bells on her shoes (that had nothing to do with Halloween) it was easy to know when she arrived. The jingling came to a stop next to Ori, and a slight nudge to her hip that made Ori look up from the papers in her hand to find Cassie handing over a small brown paper bag from the bakery next door. Ori narrows her eyes at the gesture. Is she trying to butter her up about the party tonight?

“What’s this?”

“Cinnamon bagel from next door,” Cassie said with a certain self-satisfied taunt to her voice. “A certain boy texted me and said you hadn’t eaten today and asked if I could bring you something when I come by to pick you up for tonight."

Ori beams brightly as she peeks in the bag, avoiding her baby sister'’ suspicious and slightly giddy gaze.

“Question. Why is Theo texting me about your food needs and how does he know about tonight?”

She doesn’t answer, but this isn’t unusual. Like Bucky, Ori’s softer, gentler when it comes to revealing things close to her heart. There are some secrets she’s not ready for the world (or herself) to know yet. Cassie on the other hand is loud, in all things, but especially with what’s written on her heart. She loves just as deeply as Ori does but she’s quick to shout it from the rooftops, without a hint of fear.

Ori wishes she could be like that sometimes.

“Something is up. I can tell by the smile you’re trying to hide!”

"I’m smiling because I was hungry and it was very thoughtful of you both.”

Ori finally gets a look at Cassie’s costume when Cassie sheds her coat and she can’t help the surprised laugh that slips out. She’s in a white cotton dress that looked like it was made from one of those adult onesies, covered in glitter from head to toe and the rainbow leggings she has on matches the tail sticking out of the bottom of her coat and the mane on her hood she has pushed down.

“What are you wearing?!”

“What? I’m a sparkly unicorn. I look adorable!”

Ori grins.

“Yes, you do. You look beautiful.”

The bell chimes again and Ori greets her brother without looking, he’s never far behind Cassie after all. Leo looked pretty much like he always does, slacks and a button-up white collared shirt under his coat but he was wearing black square-frame glasses. He leans over the mahogany counter and presses a kiss on Ori’s cheek. Whatever Cassie was hoping to get out of Ori would never happen now that Leo was present. Ori laughed at the pout on Cassie’s face, picking at the bagel as she scans over the invoice in front of her.

“Ready for tonight?” Leo asks as he steals a piece of her bagel.

Ori shrugs a little, glancing at the clock and sighed when she saw it was nearing six. They would be pushing her out the door soon. It’s not that she didn’t like going out, she did. Things have been off lately and she hasn’t felt much like socializing, which is why her siblings insisted they have a party. If it turns out to be as terrible as she predicts it’s going to be, she can always call Bucky to pick her up because no matter what Bucky still drops everything to come to her rescue whenever she needs it.

“It’s going to be fun!”

“I guess. I’m not really a party person.”

“I know but you make the cutest cat ever.”

Leo’s brow furrows and the worry on his face has him looking so much like Bucky it almost makes Ori laugh.

“You’ve been working a lot. Skipping family stuff. When was the last time you came to family dinner and didn’t rush out the door? Mom said you’re working more hours than she is-”

“I should! She deserves time with dad and it’s not like I have a life waiting on me right now.”

It’s been a little over a year since she called off her wedding and ended things with Cole and while she’s happy that relationship has ended, she’s nowhere near where she thought she would be at her age. She had plans and lists, milestones she promised herself she would hit by a certain age and now she’s… floating. No purpose. No real path. Simply riding her mother’s coattails, managing a store she wouldn’t have without her mother and she has no idea where she’s going or what her future is going to look like. It’s terrifying. So maybe she’s been spending a little more time at work to keep her mind busy. Sometimes it doesn't quite calm the chaos in her head, but staying busy helps.

“That’s not true. You have us and, yeah, mom deserves a break but so do you. We thought it would be good to get out of the house. If you hate it I’ll bring you home.”

Ori smiles. Leo has always been their protector, ready to jump in and save his mom and sisters from anything that could cause them the slightest bit of discomfort. She couldn't be aggravated with him for wanting to help, he’s only following in Bucky’s footsteps.

“Yeah, okay. Today has been a mess. Give me a few minutes to wrap things up, okay?”

She’s barely had time for her eyes to focus on the words in front of her when Cassie chirps from her side, “The window display is a mess. What happened there?”

“Cassie!”

“I’m just saying. Want me to help you fix it tomorrow?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Ori snatches the brown bag with her bagel resting on top and heads back towards the office in hopes she will be able to focus there, “and yes. I would like help. Thank you.”

“I’ll watch the desk!” Cassie shouts behind her, getting an appreciative smile from Ori. The quiet doesn’t last long. The shop bell is ringing and Cassie is yelling for her before she’s managed to make it through one invoice.

“Ori! Get out here. There’s a delivery.” Cassie’s shouts are piercing her ears and she’s certain the entire bakery next door can hear her clear as day. Ori steps back out onto the sales floor, frowning and having every intention of reminding Cassie not to scream in the store, but she can’t because she’s staring at the largest bundle of lavender she’s ever seen.

“I-- this. What is this?”

“They are for you!” Cassie squeals but quickly stops smiling and looks at the older gentleman who is wearing a warm smile when he confirms that they are indeed for her sister.

“Yes, ma’am,” The man says with a chuckle, “If you’re Orion Barnes. These are for you.”

He passes the delicate bundle wrapped in brown paper in her arm and passes over a pen for her signature. She quickly scribbles her name and pulls the small white card out of the twine, grinning foolishly at what’s written.

“Who are they from?” Cassie begs, jumping up and down. “I already know but I need to see the card myself.”

Ori presses the card to her chest to keep Cassie from sneaking a peek, she’s not willing to share a bit of the sweetness written there. Cassie quickly gives up on the card and snatches the receipt before Ori can grab it, finding exactly what she was looking for.

“Theo Tucker! I knew it!”

The thin paper is pulled from Cassie’s hand by Leo, who is staring at the receipt with a deep frown as if he can’t process what he is seeing.

“Why is Theo sending you flowers? Where did he find a place that delivers lavender like that? More importantly… why is Theo sending you flowers?"

Ori can’t answer her brother, she’s too busy grinning like a fool and hiding her blushing cheeks behind the soft purple sprigs in her arms.

“What do you mean ‘Why is Theo sending her flowers?’ Because he loves her. Am I the only that’s been paying attention?”

"He loves you. It's the same thing and you don’t get flowers.”

“It is a hundred percent not the same thing, Leo.”

There’s the faint sound of the twins arguing in the background, “How is it different?” “Leo you can’t be serious. You’ve seen the way he looks at her!” She should probably stop their bickering but she can’t. She can’t focus on anything, not while she’s daydreaming about California.

Maybe it wasn’t the worst day, after all.

“So, are you going to wear a sprig of lavender as your catnip? Seems like it added a little spring in your step.”

“Cassie!”

Cassie had squealed when Ori asked her to draw a cat nose and whiskers on her face. If she was going to dress as a cat she had to go all out. The ears, while cute, weren’t enough to satisfy the perfectionist in her. Before they left her apartment, she sent Theo a thank you text and a picture of her all dressed up. The simple response, you look beautiful, makes her stomach flip and leaves her head spinning. It drops a fraction when Leo asks why she’s smiling at her phone with such a goofy grin.

No one is ready for that answer, so she tucked her phone in her purse for now.

The minute they arrived, Leo stepped through the front door and pulled his shirt open to reveal a giant S stitched onto his blue undershirt and he proceeded to do several more times throughout the night. Despite her reservations about the party, it wasn’t so bad. Or maybe she was simply in a better mood. She spent a better part of the night hanging around Cassie and Ariel, who was dressed as Tinker Bell and her lovesick Peter Pan never strayed from her side for long. Ori didn’t know a lot of the people currently filling Leo and Ollie’s apartment, so it felt safer to stick by family.

At some point a small group of people broke off from the larger party and started playing spin the bottle. It was strange to watch twenty year olds play a childhood game. There was bobbing for apples which didn’t seem all that sanitary if you asked Ori, which is why she declined rather emphatically when asked if she wanted to try.

Halfway through the night their mom texted asking for pictures, so she took a few with Cassie and Ariel, some of her and Leo and of course all of them posing together. She even sent the few of Ariel and Ollie off to the Tuckers. Another text comes in but it’s not a response from her parents, a very handsome Indiana Jones pops up and she can’t help the huge smile that forms. He looks adorable with that hat and playful smirk and she tells him so. Ori peered over her phone to find Cassie and Ariel smiling, she cleared her throat and quickly hid her phone back in her purse.

“Oh, look. There are some mummy cupcakes left. I better go grab one before they disappear,” Ori had muttered as she quickly tried to divert attention off of her.

There was every Halloween themed treat you could think of. The chocolate covered strawberries dressed up as ghosts, bloody s’mores, and candy corn rice krispy treats were gone first. When Ori asked how they managed to do all this, Leo admitted with a sheepish grin that their mom had done most of the baking and Cassie and Ariel had decorated. She should have known Ariel had a hand in the planning, it was too well organized for Leo and Ollie to handle on their own.

The party started to die down a little after one in the morning, Leo offered his bed but Cassie was already fast asleep and there was no way she was sharing with that human koala. After refusing to take Leo’s spot on the couch, Leo brought her back home with the promise to text him the minute he got back. There’s no way he would let her catch a cab back to her place all by herself.

It’s nearly three by the time Ori trudges up the stairs to her apartment. She’s tired, but it’s a good kind of tired. Not that she will ever admit this to Cassie but tonight was fun. It wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be, and a very important someone was missing but it wasn’t as bad as she envisioned. She slips out of her heels and drops her purse on the table by the front door, she can clean up tomorrow when she’s not struggling to keep her eyes open. Right as she reaches kitchen island where her bouquet is sitting in her mother’s chipped mint green vase, her phone rings in her hand and she can’t help but grin at the name staring back at her.

“Hey, you.”

Ori grins, dusting a finger over a stray sprig and she’s suddenly not feeling as tired.

“My day? You know, it wasn't so bad actually. It got better there at the end. Even better now.”

#Orion Barnes #astrophile files #Theo Tucker x Orion Barnes #Theo x Ori #the price of astrophile #poa #Astrophile

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whattheheckmidoriya · 2 years

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I posted 163 times in 2021

114 posts created (70%)

49 posts reblogged (30%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.4 posts.

I added 457 tags in 2021

#aizawa x reader - 64 posts

#shota aizawa x reader - 58 posts

#bnha aizawa - 58 posts

#aizawa shota x reader - 55 posts

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#whattheheckmidoriya - 25 posts

#bakugo x reader - 20 posts

#mha x reader - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 107 characters

#im certain that whenever deku is in the hospital the nurses have a fresh pot of coffee made just for aizawa

My Top Posts in 2021

Kiss It Better

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Description: Katsuki is as stubborn as they come— there's no way in hell he'd ever admit how he feels about you. That doesn't mean he doesn't have his own ways of showing he cares, though, so when you show up at 3a.m. knocking on his door broken, bruised and tipping over the edge of unconsciousness, his instincts scream for him to come to your aid.

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings: Mention of injuries, mentions of food, mentions of nudity (just a shower, nothing explicit!) Bakugo being protective + a secret softie

Word Count: 1,608

Author's Note: Just coming by to say that for the sake of feeling comfortable writing this, Bakugo has been aged up! So consider him as someone who's 18 or older here! Anyway, I had lots of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy!

Join the taglist here!

Katsuki was many things— openly romantic was not one of those things.

Yes, he loves you; he'd blast every inch of this planet to hell if it meant he'd have you safely by his side. But he'd never say those three precious words out loud— well, not in the usual way, at least.

Stubborn as he may be, even he had to admit his tough-guy act tends to slip when it comes to you. Katsuki didn't say "I was worried about you", he said, "Keep your communications on next time, dumbass." He didn't say "Have you eaten yet?", he said "Can't have you passing out on us, you moron. Go eat." He didn't say "I love you." or "Please be careful.", instead he would settle for "Don't do anything stupid and don't be a dumbass— if you're ever in trouble, I'll save you."

He silently thanked the heavens when he realized you understood exactly what he meant, even when his words came out as harsh and annoyed. You understood him. He's always held you close to his heart, constantly trying his best to let you know that you're the cause of the fluttering of his stomach, the rapid beats of his heart, and the stupid smiles he shakes away before anyone can notice.

Katsuki loved you, and he had his own special ways of showing you. He's always been there for you, and he swears on his life his very last breath will have your name attached to it like an oath.

Katsuki knew you had a late patrol tonight, so he cleaned up the apartment, making it absolutely spotless. He had done groceries during the day and was now chopping up ingredients for a dish he remembered to be one of your favorites.

It had been at least an hour since you last updated him on your patrol, which was strange. You were always punctual when it came to letting him know you were okay. He hated to admit it, but his thoughts fleeted back to you with a whole wave of worry crashing over him. He checked his phone again, frowning when he saw no new messages from you.

Grumbling under his breath, he tossed the ingredients into the stirring pan, igniting the stove and moving the contents around with a wooden spoon. Tension stiffened his muscles, his brows pulling together in frustration.

It was then that his ears registered the door opening and closing with a click, dragged footsteps following shortly.

He sighed, not turning around at the sound of you padding into the apartment. "Ey, did your phone break or something? Or did you suddenly forget how to use it?" A rough welcome, he knew, but his worry tended to morph into harsh comments. His shoulders rolled back when he wasn't met with an answer. "Don't ignore me, dumbass."

A loud thump reached his ears, and it was only then his eyes flickered away from the stove and towards the living room. There, he saw your figure slumped on the floor, your chest rising and falling heavily with ragged breaths. Your costume was dirtied and torn; your mask reduced to mere shreds that barely hung from your face.

Katsuki frowned, his fingers fluttering at his sides as he stepped closer to you. Cupping the sides of your face, a scowl contorted his lips as he took in the damage. Your eyes sported new, dark bruises, your lips split and bloodied. His stomach twisted with dread at the loss of your usual color and the rapid breaths that shook your chest.

When you winced, he shook his head to clear his mind, his hands already working to find any injuries concealed by your costume. "What the hell happened?" He bit, his jaw ticking at the sight of the jagged wound that ran over the expanse of your stomach. The wound, much like your lover, was red and angry. A few beats passed with no answer from you, prompting him to speak through gritted teeth. "Which bastard should I blast to hell for this?"

A weak laugh rumbled through our chest, the jolt of your body making you wince as more blood spilled from the wound. "Some villain with, um, a…" your eyes fluttered heavily, refocusing on Katsuki's crimson ones as he gave one of your hands a soft squeeze. "…with a blade quirk."

"Damn bastard," Katsuki let curses spill from his lips as he quickly stomped back into the kitchen, retrieving the medkit tucked under the sink cabinets before returning to your side on the floor. "When I get my hands on them, they'll—"

"Don't worry," you hissed as Katsuki began applying pressure to stanch the bleeding. "They didn't get away."

That made Katsuki smile something devilish. "Did you kick their ass for me?" His eyes met yours with a glimmer of pride, fierce adoration reserved only for you sparkling in those crimson hues of his.

You snickered, watching as he pulled away to bandage the wound. "Beat 'em black and blue and sent them halfway to hell just for you."

He huffed a breath of laughter, biting back the widening of his smile as he finished off with the bandages. Looking at you, a teasing look filled his eyes as he helped you onto your feet. "C'mon I just cleaned this damn place and I don't need your dirty ass to ruin my hard work."

You smiled tiredly, resting your head on his shoulder as he guided you to the bathroom. Gentle isn't a word anyone would assimilate with the explosive hero, and yet you were the one person on this Earth graced with the tender touches of his fingers as he helped you out of your costume. Firm yet loving hands lingered on your figure, lathering soap onto your beaten body, massaging the knots away from your muscles, and carefully working the soap over the cuts that littered your skin.

He patiently redid your bandages after letting you dry off. Katsuki didn't like people taking his things, but a pair of his favorite sweatpants and his most beloved t-shirt were folded over the bed, waiting to blanket over your figure.

Laying down on your shared bed, you winced at the aching of your bones, the movement pulling at your bandaged wound. A sigh flew past your lips as your head sunk into your pillows, your eyes fluttering heavily with sleep. Katsuki pulled the blankets over you, tucking you in and readjusting your pillows until he was sure you were comfortable.

You shifted slightly, peering up at your lover through heavy eyelids. "Hey, Katsuki," He turned to you with a tilt of his head. "No kiss to make it feel better?"

"Huh?" The incredulous furrow of his brow pulled a quiet laugh out of you. "The hell are you talking about?"

You tapped your slip lips twice, your eyes pleading for him. "You've got to kiss it better."

"What the— Do I look like Recovery Girl to you, dumbass?!" Katsuki narrowed his eyes at you, crossing his arms over his chest while you patted the spot on the bed next to you.

"Are you dumb or are you just pretending? You know what I mean!" You sighed, a smile curling your lips as your lover shot you a crimson glare. "C'mon, Katsuki, just—"

His lips met yours, full of fierce emotions brimming with passion and care. His hands settled on the curves of your jaw, pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss ever so slightly. He pulled away, a slightly dazed look settling over his fiery eyes. "You are so annoying." He breathed, his breath fanning over your skin as he softly trailed the bruised skin of your face with gentle pressings of his lips. He kissed your forehead, the bruises under your eyes, the cuts by your jaw until he returned to your split lips with a final motion of passion.

A scoff left his mouth at the sight of your dazed smile, making him bite back a smile of his own as he pulled away. "Better?"

You hummed, your body sinking further into the bed. Suddenly, you wrinkled your nose, your eyes meeting his with curiosity. "Is something burning?"

At that, Katsuki's eyes widened, his mind reeling back to what he was occupied with just before you came home. "Shit!" He raced out of the room, the sound of the sink going off as kitchen pans clanked against each other soon following.

Katsuki was fuming by the time he threw away the charred remains of his attempt at dinner. He cursed wildly under his breath as he stomped back into your shared room, ready to ask you what you wanted to eat now that his forgetfulness ruined the food he had been preparing, but stopped at the door once he caught sight of you.

You were curled up in bed, the blankets hiding the lower half of your face. Whatever signs of pain or discomfort you previously had contorting your face had now melted away into a display of peace and contentment.

He was sure you still had a lazy smile on your lips under those blankets.

"Unbelievable," Katsuki sighed with a shake of his head. He smiled. "I leave for five minutes and you're out like a damn light." Carefully, he leaned over your side of the bed, pressing a tender kiss onto the top of your head, letting his lips linger for a beat before he pulled back.

He took one last look at you before stopping by the door, snickering as he recalled your pleads from earlier. "You better be good as new by the time you wake up tomorrow, dumbass."

🏷 Bakugo Katsuki taglist

@retaaschilling @beecca9 @sir-knight-slytherdor @girl_lost_not_found @izukus-gf @yaskna @andrastesbeard

309 notes • Posted 2021-11-30 01:40:22 GMT

Flowers and Sunday Nights pt.2

Read part one here! Read part three here!

Pairing: Aizawa Shota x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Aizawa being a conflicted and flustered softie

Word Count: 2,426

Description: Aizawa can't shake the warmth left behind by your gentle nature. Experiencing these new emotions, he seeks you out.

Join the taglist here!

Author's note: Part two!!! So so happy with the love part one received and I hope you all enjoy part two just as much!

•••

He swore it was all a dream.

He kept the flower with him. Once he got home, he wasted no time in padding to his bathroom, stopping by the mirror on the wall as his eyes settled on the little bundle of petals that still clung to his hair. He sighed, plucking it from its place above his ear, spinning the stem between his fingers as his brows pulled together.

Who were you?

If he was being honest with himself, the whole interaction felt unreal; part of him was convinced he had gotten a taste of heaven in the mere warmth of your touch. Your tired laughter was the song of angels. He was sure your eyes held pure starlight in them, thousands of constellations making themselves at home in those brilliant hues of yours.

You were ethereal.

His heart still soared with the memory of you and he found himself chastising himself for letting his mind wander back to you again. The mere thought of you had heat rushing to his cheeks, making him curse himself for looking like a love-struck teenager.

Still, he couldn’t find it in him to throw the flower away.

It’s just a flower, he told himself, but he couldn’t deny he felt something towards the little bundle of petals. Maybe it was because your gentle nature was a stark contrast to what he’s known his entire life. Maybe it was because he loved the way you smiled at him or the way his hands tingled at your touch. Maybe part of himself believed the little flower would somehow bring you back to him, even for just a moment.

So, he kept the flower.

The little sprout was always with him during his horridly long week. His days at U.A. felt lighter with the small flower safe in his front pocket; his nights were filled with hope that he’d get a second’s glance of you somehow. ��

He made sure to take a little longer to patrol the sector he met you in, trying to see if he’d at least see you walking down the street. Reluctantly, he left each night with a tired sigh and a shake of his head, a frown on his face as he dragged himself to the next sector he was sent to guard.

Then Sunday arrived and his heart was thumping out of his chest as realization of what he was doing set in.

He grumbled under his breath, taking cover under his scarf as he handed money over in exchange for a bouquet of flowers. Keeping it close to his chest, he stepped back from the flower cart and swung himself to the same rooftop he was perched on last time, letting his legs dangle as he plopped down on the ledge. The bundle of assorted flowers dropped to his lap and he looked down at it with narrowing eyes. His tired eyes lingered on the colored petals, the soft aroma of fresh harvest sending his heart into overdrive.

He waited. Minutes crawled by and merged into hours, and he was starting to think that maybe this was the world playing a cruel joke on him by making you disappear from the face of the Earth before he could catch another smile of yours. There was no sight of you.

The sky was dotted with stars, the moon casting a silver light over the city that harbored the living desire of his heart. Clouds were thick and heavy, most likely promising to cleanse the city from its grime in a few minutes.

Just like he thought, droplets of rain began to rain over him and he couldn’t help but let his shoulders droop as he watched a few people stumble away in hopes of saving themselves from the downpour.

The flowers were heavy in his hands now, a cold wave of disappointment crashing over him as he stood up from the ledge. His eyes took one last look at the streets below him, silently praying for you to magically drop into the scene.

“This is ridiculous,” he mumbled to himself, brushing his soaked hair away from his face.

Then, out of nowhere, laughter reached his ears.

He turned around in a blink, almost making himself slip off the ledge as he looked down with wide eyes, and, surely, there you were. A smile settled on his lips as another burst of laughter spilled from your chest.

Spreading your arms wide open, you allowed yourself a moment to close your eyes and relish the feeling of the cool droplets tickling your skin. You were soaking wet, but the smile on your face was enough to show how you truly could care less about such a thing.

Aizawa was sure his heart was about to burst in his chest. He swallowed thickly, a new rush of anxiety burning in his veins as he remembered the flowers he had bought.

What if you didn’t like them? Was he stepping some sort of boundary? Was this weird? What if he misread the whole thing and you didn’t really want to see him again? What if—

“Hey, Eraserhead!”

His eyes widened at the sound of your voice. It snapped him back to reality, and though he kept a stoic look on his face, he swore he was ten seconds away from passing out.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he filled his lungs with a deep breath, steeling his nerves before jumping down from the ledge. He landed quietly a few feet away from you, one hand clutching the flowers as the other pulled his dripping hair away from his face, granting his eyes access to the heavenly sight of you.

Warmth blossomed in his chest, the air knocked out of his lungs as another smile lit up your face. He wanted to scream his heart out, the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach a foreign sensation he had yet to understand.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” you breathed, your heart light as you took in the breath-taking sight of the erasure hero. “But I gotta say, seeing you might be the highlight of my day.”

His breath hitched, dark eyes widening as heat rose to his cheeks while your words sunk in. Get a hold of yourself, he groaned internally to himself as his fingers tightened around the flowers. He huffed a short breath of laughter, shaking his head softly while a small smile adorned his lips delicately.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat, holding out the flowers to you with a timid look flashing in his sore eyes. “I wanted to give these to you.” His outstretched hands shook slightly and, though he knew it was because of his own anxieties, he’d blame it on the rain that soaked through his clothes. He already felt like a dumb love-sick kid, there was no way he’d admit what effects you had on him.

But when your eyes lit up with the power of all the stars in every known galaxy, he had to mentally kick himself for the way his knees threatened to give out.

“You…you got these for me?” You reached out for the flowers but hesitated before your fingers could brush over his. “Are you sure?” A look of uncertainty pulled at your eyebrows.

Was he sure? If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t understand why he bought the flowers. Didn’t understand why he kept the one you had so delicately adorned his hair with. He didn’t truly know why his mind kept reeling back to you or why he was so insistent on seeing you again.

He didn’t know why he did it. It was the honest truth, and the fact he didn’t know scared him. Aizawa’s a hero– a man who’s trained his whole life to think things through and act with purpose, so what was the purpose behind his desire to find you?

Still, the wonder in your eyes, the curious frown that pulled at your lips, the raindrops that dangled from your eyelashes in a way that was so raw and beautiful… it all made him think that whatever reasoning behind his actions was fueled by something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

And maybe… maybe he just wanted to feel like he did deserve such warm feelings.

The rainfall around you was steady, and unrelentingly, but neither one of you seemed to mind. It clung to your clothes, chilled your skin, tainted your cheeks and glossed over your eyes with renewal. Even Aizawa had to admit that it almost felt like he was being cleansed from the darkness that tainted his heart, leaving him with this light feeling in his chest that he welcomed with far too much ease.

He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. Whatever words he formulated evaporated as soon as he opened his mouth to release them, leaving him stuttering and tripping over whatever managed to escape his lips.

A groan rumbled through his chest as he dipped his head close to his chest, shielding himself behind his scarf while he tried to compose himself. Too busy mentally beating himself up for failing at something so simple as speaking, he hadn’t realized you were now mere inches away from him until your hands encased his.

You didn’t take the flowers, didn’t reject them. You held him. His gaze snapped up to meet yours, his eyes wide as you smiled at him. Gently, you ran your thumbs over his scarred knuckles, feeling him release a shuddered breath as you explored the curves and planes of his calloused hands.

“Thank you,” you sighed, committing every silver scar on his worn-out hands to memory.

He was paralyzed by the soft look gleaming in your eyes as you looked at him.

He was beautiful. His hair was soaking wet and stuck to his face, so you gently brushed the dark strands away, letting yourself appreciate how the soft glow of the moon made him look so angelic in this troubled world. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but there was something tender about the way he couldn’t make himself look away. The chill of the night painted his nose with a red tint as small rain droplets raced down his face.

Aizawa lived with the rush of fear and adrenaline burning in his veins whenever he faced a villain, but here, right now, he was shaken by something so much softer and innocent. He didn’t understand it. It only dawned upon him how out of his element he truly was in that moment. But right now, he had a chance of something good. He couldn’t let that slip through his fingers— didn’t want to risk it. So, he steeled his nerves and smiled.

“If I remember correctly, the flowers you got last time were ruined,” he said lowly, his voice rumbling softly in his chest as he spoke. “I… I just thought you’d like new ones.” The poor man was too flustered to keep eye contact, his heart roaring in his ears as he settled his eyes on anything but you.

Oh, if only he’d seen how your eyes sparkled with something akin to adoration.

Only then did you take the flowers into your own hands, making his gaze return to you. He watched as you carefully unwrapped the ribbon around the stems, splitting the flowers into two bundles, one in each hand. You held out one colorful bunch for him, earning a curious tilt of his head in response.

“When was the last time someone gave you flowers?” The question caught him off-guard, stole the air right out of his long as he looked down at the flowers in your outstretched hand.

Last Sunday night.

You laughed softly at the conflicted look on his face, and you pressed the flowers to his chest, sucking a sharp breath as his hands gently came to meet you halfway. Warmth flooded your senses as his hands pressed against yours, keeping them over his heart as the soft aroma of flowers made itself at home in your lungs.

A shaky breath flew past his lips, as he looked from you to the flowers you pressed over his heart. His fingers slowly trailed away from your hands, his skin burning at your warmth before his fingers curled around the flowers.

You pulled away, admiring how gentle the tired hero looked while cradling flowers close to his chest. Holding your own bundle in your hands, you couldn’t help the small breath of contentment that pushed past your lips.

His cheeks were flushed with heat, his eyes glistening with a wave of emotion he still didn’t understand but welcomed without restraint. “Thank you…” he breathed, his voice low and raw.

A hum resonated from your chest as you smiled at him. “Maybe we should do this more often– make flowers our thing?”

“I’d like that.” He immediately breathed, giving a quick nod of his head.

“Okay then,” Quickly, you tucked a piece of soaked, raven hair behind his ear, feeling his eyes follow your movements. Plucking one of the flowers in your own bunch, you gently slid the stem into his hair, letting your hand trail down his jaw softly before pulling away. “I’ll see you next Sunday, Eraserhead.”

Aizawa was frozen in place, his skin tingling where your touch had grazed him. He watched as your turned to leave, and he suddenly remembered the flowers he was still clutching to his chest. Panic rose in his chest and his eyes widened at your retreating figure.

“Wa-wait!”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to look back at him with curious eyes.

He swallowed nervously, pulling his brows together as he looked down at the flowers before returning his gaze to your twinkling eyes. “I forgot,” Hope flashed in his eyes as they lingered on you. “I forgot to ask your name.”

A heavy smile curled your lips and you had to turn your face to the side to hide the blush that painted your cheeks. You told him your name and watched as a faint smile settled on his face.

As you left, he breathed your name as if it were his saving grace. Maybe, in a way, it was more than that.

Looking down at the flowers in his hands, he huffed a breath full of wonder. He smiled bashfully as the rain continued to cleanse him of his past troubles and hardships, a new sense of joy and fondness growing in his heart.

He’d be dammed if this was all a dream.

317 notes • Posted 2021-08-31 18:37:45 GMT

Flowers and Sunday Nights

Read part two here!

Pairing: Aizawa Shota x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Stinky drunk man who doesn't know how to back off, mention of a broken nose, Aizawa being a softie.

Word count: 1,483

Description: On a peaceful patrol, underground hero Eraserhead, finds himself meeting someone as beautiful as the flowers in her arms.

Join the taglist here!

Author's note: This really came out of nowhere, but I had so much fun getting into my feels🥺 I'm thinking of following up with a part two— let me know what you think!

••••

Aizawa loved Sunday nights.

After a full week of juggling his U.A workload along with his night patrols, with barely any rest in between, Sunday nights allowed him the chance to catch his breath. It’s almost as if Japan as a whole decided to take these chilly nights off and sleep in, which made the erasure hero’s patrols so much more bearable than usual.

Perched on a rooftop, he let himself breathe in softly, a long-awaited sense of peace filling his lungs as he rested his sore eyes just a moment. Cool currents of air swept his hair back, allowing his skin to catch the silver light of the moon as he tugged his scarf closer to his face in an attempt to shield himself from the cold.

Fluttering his eyes open, he let his gaze trail over the city, a part of him realizing how little he’s actually seen of it. Sure, he’s a hero who patrols the area every night and protects it with everything he’s got, but to him, it felt like this was his first time actually seeing it. The towering buildings that trapped starlight within their windowpanes, the slow rolling of clouds over the inky night sky, the soft sounds of a quiet life that he could only yearn for. It was all so familiar, but so new at the same time.

It almost made him smile.

Almost.

His head snapped to the side at the sound of a disgruntled voice, his brows pulling together in confusion before his mind could respond to what was happening.

“Hey, I told you to back off, you mouth-breather!” you shouted, annoyed, one hand pressing a bouquet of flowers close to your chest as the other slapped over the drunken man's face.

The man stumbled back a few steps, his eyes widening in shock before narrowing darkly as your handprint revealed itself on his cheek. “You little brat! And here I thought we were having a nice bit of fun,” he snapped, tearing the flowers from your grasp before fisting your shirt aggressively, pulling a gasp out of your lips as the stench of alcohol reached your nose.

Aizawa didn’t wait to see what this scumbag thought he would do to you; he jumped from his ledge on the rooftop and landed a few feet away from you, ready to break the man’s hold on you. His eyes glowed red as he glared at the man menacingly. “Word of advice? Listen to a woman when she tells you to back off.”

He was about to step in when the man’s eyes flickered to him for a brief second, giving you an opening to slam your knuckles into the bridge of his nose, a satisfying crack emanating from his nose. The hit you landed made his hold on you slip as he stumbled back and slipped on your flowers, tripping over his feet before landing on the cold ground. That was enough for Aizawa to trap the drunk in his capture weapon before knocking him out cold with a snarl on his lips.

“They’re ruined,”

The hero turned with a tilt of his head, watching as you gingerly knelt down next to the now-destroyed bouquet of flowers with a frown, your shoulders slumping in disappointment.

He looked back at the man who was tied in his capture weapon, a low huff of amusement escaping his chest as he noticed the trail of blood that trickled down the man’s face. “You broke his nose,”

You looked up at the hero before flickering your eyes towards the very man who ruined your night. A glare settled on your eyes before you shrugged. “A small price to pay for ruining my flowers.”

That got a hum from Aizawa, his eyes twinkling with amusement before he knelt by your side, watching as you picked up the crushed flowers from the ground with a sigh.

“Are you alright?” he asked, trying to make his low voice as soft as possible as he looked at your hands, trying to see if you bruised up your knuckles when you threw that punch earlier. His dark eyes then settled on the flowers in your hold, a frown settling on his lips. “Who were the flowers for?”

You didn’t look away from the torn, colored petals you held when answering. “I’m fine— slightly pissed off, but fine.” A tired laugh shook your chest softly, the sound warm and inviting; Aizawa couldn’t help but smile. “And the flowers were for me, but I guess I can’t go a night without getting something nice for myself just to have it ruined.” Your tone was bitter–sad even– as you spoke.

That got a frown out of the erasure hero. He could feel your disappointment rolling off of you in waves, a part of him sympathetic towards you as his eyes flickered down to the assortment of flowers in your grasp. He eyed them silently, trailing over the soft hues of the petals that once seemed so gentle and alive.

A single flower seemed to have survived being trampled over, its lovely, blossoming self almost shining in the moonlight in a way that could be described as angelic.

Softly, Aizawa picked it up in between his fingers, your eyes following him as he held it out for you. “Not all of them are ruined.”

The gesture was so small, so simple, yet there was something so gentle in it that it almost seemed intimate.

Your eyes twinkled with a new light as you gazed at the small flower in his hands, an awestruck smile curling your lips. “Yeah,” Taking in the hero’s face as you glanced up from his hand, a softer look flashed in your eyes.

His sore eyes seemed almost gentle as his gaze locked with your own, his hair gently pulled back by a soft breeze that tickled your noses. Even with his rugged complexion, he looked ethereal under the moonlight, a blossoming sense of peace making itself at home in your chest as the corners of his lips curled into the ghost of a smile.

He’s beautiful, you thought to yourself, your eyes widening as heat rose to your cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you accepted the flower from his hand, your fingers sparking with electricity as they graced his skin momentarily. “You’re Eraserhead, right? I think I’ve seen you around the area a few times.”

The hero looked down at his hand, his skin tingling where your fingers had brushed over. “Uh, yeah,” He shook his head softly, snapping himself out of a daze. “I patrol this sector every night.”

His eyes lingered on you as you nodded before standing up, tossing the crumpled flowers into a nearby dumpster while still holding the unscathed one in your other hand. His heart leaped to his throat when you turned to him with a smile. He followed your lead and stood up as you walked back to him, clutching the small flower close to your chest.

“Thank you, Eraserhead,” you breathed, your words heavy with a genuine sense of gratitude towards the hero.

He snickered, quirking an eyebrow at you. “For what? I believe you handled yourself decently— you basically did my job for me.” he mused, tilting his head towards the man who was still out cold in the clutches of his capture weapon.

Heat rose to your cheeks as his praise sunk in, making you dip your head in an attempt to hide your embarrassment from him. Shaking your head, you looked back at his dark eyes. “I, uh, thanks,” you laughed nervously. “But I mean thank you for the flower.”

The poor hero didn’t have a chance to react to your words before you gently cupped his face with one hand, pulling him close enough for you to tuck the small flower behind his ear, sinking the stem into his hair delicately. His breath hitched, his eyes wide as he told himself not to lean into the inviting warmth of your skin. His gaze followed your hands as you pulled away, his heart soaring as you looked at him as if he were the most beautiful man you’ve seen.

And for a moment, he let himself believe it.

“I hope we’ll meet again soon.” You smiled, waving him goodbye as you turned to go down the road.

He was stunned, at a loss for words. Part of him wanted to run after you, keep you there for a moment longer as he cursed himself for not even asking for your name. His eyes lingered on your retreating figure as you disappeared from his line of sight and merged with the night.

All he could do was bring his hand up to where your warmth still graced his skin, his fingers soon feeling the soft petals of the flower you planted in his hair. He smiled.

Aizawa really loved Sunday nights.

504 notes • Posted 2021-08-28 15:21:08 GMT

Rest

Pairing: Aizawa Shota x Reader

Word Count: 2,609

Warnings: Mentions of blood (just a cut, kiddos!), mentions of nudity (just a shower, nothing sexual nor explicit!), mentions of food, Shota being softie

Description: Taking care of your husband after the USJ attack proves to be quite the hassle— especially when you still have your own responsibilities to worry about on top of it all. Lucky for you, your lover knows how to soothe your restless self.

Author's note: Y'ALL ITS BEEN A WHILE! Hope y'all enjoy!

°°°°°

“Dammit!” you hissed, dropping the kitchen knife onto the floor as you pulled your hand away quickly. Biting your lip, you watched with narrowed eyes as a bright trail of blood raced down your hand and trickled off your fingers onto the floor. Throwing your head back with a sigh, you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing yourself to release a breath of exhaustion as your shoulders drooped under the weight of your restlessness.

It's been a week since the USJ attack. Your husband, Shota, had been horribly injured while protecting his students, but you were simply happy to have him home as he recovered from his injuries, making sure he didn’t try to push himself too hard while his body healed. A big part of you was resentful of the fact that you were quirkless and couldn’t have been of help to protect your lover, but you’re trying to do your best to help him now.

It was exhausting work, though. You’d never complain about it– he does so much for your happiness and taking care of him in his time of need is the least you could do for him. Still, you couldn’t help but internally wish for a moment to take a breather and recharge for a bit. Taking care of Shota wasn’t much of a hassle, but the man was stubborn and wouldn’t explicitly communicate his needs, which left you fumbling over what to do most of the time.

Then there was his work from U.A. Since both of his hands were broken and bandaged, he was unable to pick up a pen and get to work on his own. To help him out, you would grab the stacks of papers that needed grading and sit by his side, letting him tell you what to do and what marks to scribble over each paper as you helped him sort through them.

On top of that, you also had your own job to worry about. Working as a detective took a lot of your time, so you compromised with taking care of Shota throughout the day and submerge yourself into case files and reports at night once you were sure your lover was asleep. It kept you with a routine you could work with somewhat smoothly most of the time– which was good enough for you, even if it left you with little time to rest.

However, you were now feeling the effects of those sleepless nights like a massive weight on your shoulders.

“Is everything alright?” Shota called from the couch, his bandaged face tilting in your direction slowly, sore eyes flashing with concern.

You sighed heavily, giving him a tired smile as you ran your uninjured hand over your eyes in an attempt to rub the exhaustion off of them. “Yeah, yeah,” Waving him off, you knelt to retrieve the knife from the floor. “My hand slipped with the knife, but I’m okay.”

Putting the knife into the sink, you grabbed a few sheets of paper towels to soak up the blood from the floor, holding your injured hand upright to avoid making more of a mess. You hadn’t noticed Shota had gotten off of the couch until you stood up to throw away the paper towels, almost bumping into him when you weren’t looking.

“Let me see,” His eyes settled on the bloody tips of your fingers.

“Shota, it’s not too bad,” you sighed, trying to keep your smile from slipping. He frowned at the exhaustion that hung from your voice. “Go rest. I’ll clean up and finish up with dinner, okay?”

He narrowed his eyes. He’s not mad at you, just concerned. It was hard for him to ignore the obvious ways you’ve been overworking yourself while taking care of him, and all he wanted was to have you resting with him by his side. The strain in your eyes, the drooping of your shoulders, the fading light in your smile– he knew you were wearing yourself thin trying to juggle everything all at once.

All he wanted was you. He wanted those loving kisses that soothed the aches in his bones, the soft whispers that lulled him to sleep, the protective embraces that perfectly molded his body against yours.

Shota knew all you wanted to do was protect him and care for him, but he couldn’t just ignore the way you were forgetting to care for yourself as well. A part of him felt like he was a hypocrite, and maybe he was one because even he can’t deny how he tends to disregard his own health, but he couldn’t stand how you’ve been leaving your own needs behind for the sake of his.

Dejectedly, he looked down at his bandaged hands, wanting to help you— to reach out and take care of you with the same love and tenderness you did him. Instead, he watched with a frown as you hunched over the dining table, cleaning the blood off your hand and bandaged the wound by yourself. His heart ached at how you slumped against your seat, tilting your head back with a weighed sigh before tiredly looking back at the kitchen.

“How about we order some takeout?” Shota spoke up, making sure to make his voice low and gentle as he caught your attention. He saw hesitation flash in your eyes so he continued, “You deserve a break, angel. Don’t worry about dinner tonight, alright?”

A smile played under his bandages as he watched your muscles lose some of their tension. “Okay,” you nodded, heavy eyes settling on his dark ones. “I’ll call that place down the street you like; how does that sound?”

Your husband tilted his head sympathetically. “I’m okay with that.”

A hum vibrated through your chest as you quickly pulled out your phone and made the call, quickly giving your usual orders as Shota came from behind, settling his chin on top of your head. He stayed there while you talked on the phone, letting his sore eyes rest as he took in a deep breath, the soft smell of your perfume settling into his lungs.

He hadn’t realized you had ended the call until you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. “Tired, my love?” You smiled as he grumbled unintelligibly under his breath. “How about a shower? Get you all fresh and comfortable for when the food arrives?”

“Only if you join me.” He mumbled, getting a huff of laughter out of you.

“You do remember you can’t exactly shower without my help while you heal, right?”

Shota groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest, getting a tired grin to stretch over your lips. “You know what I mean, angel.”

Your eyes burned as you squeezed them shut, granting them a much-needed moment of rest as your figure sank further into your seat. Shota took the opportunity to tilt his head down at you, letting his hair cascade over your face, tickling your nose. He smiled under his bandages as you scrunched your nose, lazily swatting his hair away from your face.

“Shota,” A smile curled at your lips, your eyes, though tired, fluttering with adoration.

His eyes flashed with the same burning love as he gazed at you. “Yeah, angel?”

Tilting your head back, you gently cupped your lover's face, pulling him close enough for you to press your lips onto his bandaged forehead. “I love you.” Your tone was gentle, warm, genuine— it almost made his knees give out.

A gentle sigh released from his lungs while he let himself revel in the warmth of your touch. Even through the bandages, his skin tingled at the feather-like touches that grazed over his face.

Pushing yourself off of your chair, you guided your husband to the bathroom, settling him by the shower seat you had placed in the bathroom before you helped him slip out of his clothes. Gently, you maneuvered his aching arms out of his shirt, whispering sweet nothings to soothe the throbbing of his bones. Quickly following suit, you stripped out of your own clothes, tossing them to the side before letting the water run.

Soaking a washcloth, you poured soap over it, scrubbing at your husband’s skin gently, using another cloth to make sure his bandages remained dry as you worked the soap over his body. Shota's muscles relaxed under your touch as you gently cupped his face with one hand, the other tracing slowly the shape of his eyes.

If only you knew how he was blushing like a love-sick kid under his bandages.

Your fingers curled around his hair soothingly, inky rivers flowing around your fingers as you massaged his scalp softly. Immediately, Shota leaned into your touch, his eyes growing heavy under the comfort of your touch.

“Let’s wash your hair, okay?” A tired smile curled your lips as your husband hummed, his breaths soft and rhythmic while his body melted in response to your warmth.

This was his favorite part, as it was yours.

Carefully tilting his head back, you filled a cup with water before slowly soaking his hair, massaging his scalp as the length of his hair slipped through your fingers.

You kissed the top of his head, letting your lips linger before pulling away.

Shota cracked his eyes open sleepily, a glint of fondness softening the usual sharpness of his gaze. Warmth blossomed in his chest, his heart light with adoration as he continued to chase after your ghostly touches.

“How are you?” His voice was low, smoothly seeping into your ears and settling on your mind.

Your fingers froze in a moment of hesitation before you shook your head slightly, offering your husband a lazy smile as you continued washing his hair.

“I’m fine, my love,” you breathed the air heavy in your lungs before being released in a quick, weighed breath.

Shota hummed, not satisfied with your answer. His eyes softened as you stifled a yawn, your eyes fluttering heavily before refocusing on the task at hand.

“I don’t like what you’re doing.” Your fingers once again froze on his scalp, a look of concern immediately flooding your eyes.

“Oh– am I hurting you? Was I massaging too hard?” A frown pulled at your lips as you dipped your fingers into the cup of water, testing the temperature. “Was the water too hot—?”

“I don’t like what you’re doing to yourself,” he clarified, tilting his head sympathetically towards you. When you didn’t respond, he sighed. “Angel, come here.”

Quickly obeying, you came to stand in front of him as he leaned towards you.

He took a moment to look at you. The darkening circles under your unfocused eyes. The way your hands shook slightly due to your restlessness. The subtle downward curl of your lips. It made his heart drop to see you so worn out.

“When was the last time you slept?” You took a moment to think of an answer. He frowned.

“Did you eat yesterday?” he tried again, his heart plummeting to his stomach when you slowly shook your head. “What about today?”

“Shota—”

“Have you at least had some water today?” He cut you off, his voice strained.

Your eyes quickly flickered away from him, your head falling forward as your shoulders drooped heavily. A few beats passed before you answered quietly, “No.”

A shaky breath blew past Shota’s lips. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against your own, prompting you to meet his eyes. “You can’t forget about yourself, angel.” As best as he could through his bandages, he pressed a kiss onto your forehead. “I know this,” he paused, his eyes flickering down to his bandaged arms. “Has not been easy for either of us and I am stupidly lucky to have your love and care through it all, but you can’t forget about caring for yourself in the same way.”

Maybe it was how his voice was full of emotion, or how his eyes were glimmering with a galaxy worth of love and concern, but regardless of what it was, you couldn’t help the tears that spilled from the corners of your eyes. Your shoulders shook as you cried quietly, your hands quickly coming up to erase the tear tracks that stained your skin.

“Angel…” Shota sighed, his heart constricting as you broke down.

“I-I'm fine,” you gasped between sobs. “I’m… I’m so tired, Shota.”

He let his head rest against your bare shoulder, breathing in the scent of soap that lingered on your body. “I know.”

“I just wanted to help,” you mumbled into his neck, your voice catching in your throat as another sob shook your body.

“I know,” He pulled away softly, locking his gaze with your own. “And you’ve done enough, angel— you’re enough.”

A few minutes passed before either one of you spoke again. Shota waited for your breathing to return to a more stable rhythm before once again pressing his forehead against yours, smiling softly when your eyes searched his.

“How about we finish up here and relax for a bit before the food arrives?” he offered in a quiet breath, hoping to soothe your anxieties even just a bit. “We could watch that movie you’ve been buggin' to see?”

You nodded softly, carefully lifting his hands to your lips before trailing his aching knuckles with ghostly kisses. “I’d really like that.”

“Okay,” he smiled, slowly bringing his aching, trembling hand to the side of your face, letting his knuckles brush over your skin softly, silently praying for the day he’ll be able to feel you with his own skin again.

Silently, you finished helping your husband clean up before taking a quick moment to cleanse yourself from the remnants of your anxieties. Soon you both found yourselves in your shared room, where you helped Shota slip into his loungewear and brush his hair away from his face. Once you were both dressed and comfortable, you plopped down on the living room couch with a sigh and a ghost of a smile.

The food arrived not long after, so you were quick to rush back into the living room with your hot bowls of food, setting the movie and laughing softly as you fed Shota. Shota kept sneaking glances at your bowl just to make sure you were actually eating, nudging you softly when your food went untouched for a few minutes.

Having finished both of your portions of food, you let your head rest on his shoulder, your body immediately reacting by melting into his warmth. His head settled over yours softly, his chest rising with a breath of satisfaction as you gently played with the tips of his fingers.

Halfway through the movie, he looked down at you, realizing you were no longer fidgeting with his fingertips. “Angel, you still with me?”

When you didn’t answer, he slowly tilted his head, careful to not disturb you. A smile tugged at his lips once he realized you had fallen asleep somewhere along the duration of the movie, your eyelashes casting soft shadows over your cheeks as you instinctively snuggled closer to your husband.

There was nothing he wanted more at that moment than to be able to wrap his arms around you and press you close to his chest— let your bodies mold against each other perfectly. Regardless of what he could and couldn’t do in his current state, he relaxed against the couch cushions, his stomach fluttering crazily as your body sunk closer onto his, your arms sleepily coming around him and encircling him in your warmth.

Closing his eyes, he mumbled his goodnight, “Rest up, my angel. You deserve it.”

°°°°°

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538 notes • Posted 2021-09-20 23:34:35 GMT

Hi! May I request a shota aizawa x reader with the prompt "I'll wait for you, no matter how long" where the reader gets an opportunity in another country that they can't refuse for their career, but while they've been away the first L.O.V. attack happens and his s/o sees it on the news and rushes home to him.

I'm here

Pairing: Aizawa Shota x Reader

Genre: Flangst??? IS THAT A THING??

Warnings: mentions of long-distant relationships, injuries and hospitals

Word Count: 2,375

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Author's note: Y'know, I was so relieved when I received a request for Shota because I really wanted an excuse to write for him AHSJDKFLF But thank you so, so much for trusting me with your request and I hope you enjoy!

•••••••

Life was so good.

You were well into your career as a hero, jumping over the ranks into the top ten in basically no time at all. You had collaborated with the police department several times, helping them settle cases that would’ve otherwise gone cold. Offers from different agencies across Japan were spilling into your mail, each offer greater than the last.

And you had a lovely boyfriend who pushed you to give your best every day.

Life was so, so good. You were practically thriving.

Then, there was an offer that could make things so much better for your career— it’s what you’ve been waiting for ever since you understood what it means to be a hero. An opportunity to mentor the next generation of heroes while also building your own agency? It was an absolute dream.

Your smile was so bright, a sense of wonder flooding your chest as you read over the email. It felt so unreal that something so wonderful could just bloom out of nowhere.

Shota was in your kitchen, cutting vegetables as he started on dinner. His eyes would subtly flicker to you, a smile playing on his lips as your eyes twinkled with joy as you continued reading. He wiped the counters, dropping the chopped vegetables into a bowl before throwing a kitchen cloth over his shoulder.

“Hey, angel,” he called softly, coming over to you before letting his chin rest on your head, his eyes peaking at the screen of your laptop. “Got another offer?”

You nodded softly, getting a chuckle out of him as you pulled on his hands, making him wrap his arms around you. “Yeah! Shota, this one is so perfect!”

He smiled down at you, intertwining his fingers with your own. “Oh yeah?” Gently, he kissed the top of your head, smiling at how you leaned into his touch. “Think you’re going to accept this one?”

Once again tugging on his hands, you brought him down closer to you until his head was resting on your shoulder, perfect for you to ghost his skin with a loving kiss.

“Y'know, I think I just might. It’s got everything— a chance to mentor young heroes, stepping stones for my own agency and it’s in…wait—” Your voice faltered, your chest constricting as your eyes lingered on the screen. A few moments passed in silence before you shook your head. “No…that can’t be right,”

Shota frowned, brows pulling together as he quickly read over the email. Once he reached the end, his heart sank to his stomach heavily. “Oh…”

“Europe…I can’t accept this…” you mumbled to yourself, your voice strained with sadness. “I-I can’t accept this.”

Shota felt his chest tighten with dread, his heart heavy as he blinked away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He squeezed your hands reassuringly, his thumbs caressing your knuckles gently. His heart shattered as your chest rose and fell shakily with the weight of unshed tears.

“Angel, this,” he said lowly, scared his voice would crack if he spoke any louder. “This is exactly what you’ve worked for. You can’t let this one slide.”

Shutting your laptop, you buried your face in your hands. You sighed heavily, sadness rolling off of you in waves. “It’s so far away, Shota. Move to Europe just like that?” you squeaked. “I can’t just leave.”

“Hey, look at me.” He walked around the couch, kneeling by your side with a tilt of his head. “Angel, please look at me.”

Slowly, you turned to him, your eyes red as tears trailed down your cheeks. Shota cupped your face in his hands, smiling sadly as you leaned into the warmth of his skin. “You can’t let this opportunity go to waste. Europe is very far away, but you’ll be back before you know it, alright?”

A broken cry shook your chest as you wrapped your arms around your lover, holding him close to your heart where you wished you could keep him forever. “I can’t leave you, Shota.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in shakily as a few tears dropped onto his cheeks. His arms tightened around you, hoping that maybe if he embraced you long enough, you’d be able to feel all the things he’s too choked up to say.

Swallowing thickly, he spoke up. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I kept you from chasing your dreams?” His breath hitched when you hid your face in the crook of his neck, your breath hot on his skin. “I want you to do this, okay? I want you to want this.”

“What if I’m away for too long?” you cried brokenly. “What if long-distance isn’t our thing a-and—”

“I’ll wait for you.”

You froze, pulling away to look at him with wide eyes. His own eyes were red and tearful but held no hesitation as he gazed at you. You gaped at him for a few beats, pulling your brows together in questioning. “What?”

His hands found the sides of your face, pulling you in until your breaths mingled intimately and your eyes had no option but to look straight at his own. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long.” He spoke firmly, pouring every ounce of love into his voice.

“Shota…” you were at a loss for words, your senses overflowing with him.

“My love isn’t fragile, angel. I’ll wait for you for as long as necessary, but you have to promise you’ll come back.” He smiled sadly at you, his steady gaze leaving no room for you to even consider doubting his words.

“I’ll come back,” You nodded immediately, getting a huff of laughter out of him. “I promise I’ll come back.”

“Good.” He quickly kissed the tip of your nose, making you giggle before he pulled you out of the couch. “Now c'mon, dinner isn’t going to cook itself.”

Parting ways wasn’t easy and it didn’t get easier; the idea of being away from each other still made your heartache with the love you had yet to pour over his tired soul.

Shota promised to call you every day to check up on you— but he also just wanted to let you know he was still there for you, even if you were more than a moment away from him. He would sometimes send you pictures of him with whatever cat he had found on his night patrols, the sight making your heart soar as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. In response, you’d send him voice messages as you simply rambled over your day or how you saw a new flower that made you think of him. Shota was too busy brooding over your absence to say it out loud, but he loved going back to those messages for the sole purpose of melting into the sound of your voice— even if you were talking about something dumb like that horribly dry muffin you bought at the bakery.

Days bled into weeks, weeks into months and the cycle continued until you had spent more than a few years away from each other. True to his word, Shota called you every single day without fail, even if he was dead on his feet after a long day’s work. You’d occasionally video call and stay up far too late into the night just to get a moment with him. The fact that you always fell asleep before the call ended gave Shota the opportunity to create an album on his camera roll full of screenshots of you snuggled up against your pillows.

If you ever saw those pictures, you’d see the pure adoration that glimmered in his eyes as he took in the sight of your sleeping form.

There wasn’t a single moment when your heart didn’t long for him to be by your side again. Sometimes life seemed dull and empty when you didn’t have someone to take in the view with. Your body ached for his touch, craved the warmth of his skin, the low rumbles of his voice that lulled you to sleep after a long day; it’s him you missed— every subtle glance, every soft scratch of his stubble against your cheeks when he leaned into a kiss, every ounce of love that somehow seeped through his rough exterior.

You talked about coming back. The thought was exhilarating— adrenaline-inducing, even. Shota knew you still had lots of work to do, but the mere thought of intertwining his fingers with your own had his heart skipping more than a few beats.

Every time you dreamt about returning to Japan, your mind pieced together different scenarios that made butterflies flutter in your stomach; each dream was gentle as it basked in the warmth of your heart, a soft rush of wonder and joy settling in your veins. Every fiber of your being yearned for the steady rhythm of his heart to beat as you lay your head on his chest.

Now, a distorted, broken, wearisome taunt of his heart beeped through a monitor in a cold, sterile room.

Dark locks swept over his bandaged face as his chest rose and fell steadily, and your eyes stung as you stared at him, afraid that his breathing would seize if you dared to look away. The constant beeping and whirring of machines and monitors pulled the air out of your lungs, your veins burning with dread as silent prayers took the form of hot tears that raced down your cheeks.

You had planned on surprising him, tell him you had gotten the green light to return to Japan for good. You made plans—big plans— for your arrival ranging from dinner to a much-needed movie night for just the two of you, and now you just wished for him to open his eyes.

It’s been three days. Three days since you landed in Japan to a phone call from a panicked Hizashi. Three days since you raced to the hospital and barged into Shota’s room. Three days since you cursed yourself for not being there sooner.

You haven’t left his side since you arrived. You haven’t gotten more than a blink of sleep and refused to take your attention off of him long enough to eat or drink something. Nausea settled on your stomach, your chest tight under the weight of your unreleased sobs.

“Wake up,” you choked on a sob, your fingers pulling at the roots of your hair in anguish. “I-I'm here— please, Shota, I—” A lump settled on your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut, tears springing from your eyes as your lips trembled.

I should’ve been here sooner, you thought to yourself brokenly. I could’ve been there. I could’ve helped. I could’ve bought him some time— maybe he wouldn’t be in such bad shape if I had—

“Yo-you…look…. like shit.”

A gasp flew past your lips, your head snapping up with wide eyes only to see his own dark gaze on you. His head was tilted towards you, a pained look on his eyes that flashed with something more at the sight of you.

A sense of relief crushed your chest, pulling a weighted breath from your heaving lungs as you sprung out of your seat and reached the side of his bed. Gently, you brushed his hair away from his forehead, almost afraid that he’d disappear from under your touch.

Even with bandages separating your skin from his, he sucked a sharp breath as your warmth seeped into his veins. He leaned into your loving hands, his heavy eyes refusing to leave you as you cradled his face gently in your hold.

Your eyes trailed over his bandages guiltily, tears dangling on your lashes as you imagined what could’ve possibly broken your lover so gruesomely. A saddened breath escaped your lips as you leaned down, gently pressing a kiss onto the top of his head. “I’m so sorry,” you breathed.

Shota leaned into you as much as his broken body would allow him. He looked down at his bandaged arms dejectedly, aching to hold you close to his chest, wishing to convince himself that you were actually there and weren’t a figment made up by his beaten mind.

“You’re here,” he breathed, his voice hoarse and strained. A tear slipped past the corner of his eyes, wetting his bandages as he gazed up at you, his heart swelling with a warmth he’d been robbed of in your absence.

You smiled sadly, letting a hand rest over his heart. “I’m here.”

Shota sighed. “How long?”

Tilting your head at him, you frowned. “How long what?”

“How long will you be staying?” he swallowed thickly, mentally bracing himself for your response.

He was preparing himself for the worse, for you to say you’d again be leaving soon and subject him to several more years of your absence. He didn’t expect the brilliant smile that curved your lips with heavenly grace.

“I’m not leaving,” you smiled through your tears, laughing softly at the widening of his eyes. “You’re stuck with me, mummy man.”

Shota's head sunk into his pillows, a gentle smile gracing his lips under the bandages. His eyes glimmered with joy and adoration so pure it was almost as if your very presence was his saving grace.

Your heart soared as his eyes gleamed, though panic rose in your chest as a soft cry reached your ears. In an instant you looked over him in concern, your eyes wide with fear as his chest shook with another cry.

“Does it hurt? I-I'll go get a nurse,” you said, turning to leave his side, but being stopped by his wavering voice.

“I-I'm fine,” he choked out, his voice weighed by a surge of raw emotion. “Just glad you’re back.”

A warm smile settled on your lips, a few tears of your own dropping onto your cheeks as you ghosted his bandaged face with soft pressings of your lips. “I’m sorry it took so long,” you sighed, cradling his face delicately to make his eyes meet your own. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

A soft look flashed in his eyes, surely a gentle smile sitting under the bandages as he sighed softly.

“Thank you for coming back.”

731 notes • Posted 2021-08-26 23:16:30 GMT

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#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #i cannot believe the fic i was most insecure about took first place #LIKE HELLO????

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caitlinsnicket · 4 years

Text

Newt Scamander SFW alphabet

Request: Can I request a sfw alphabet for Newt Scamander please! Thank you!

A/N: Two posts in a row? What the hell is happening? Anyways, this is a nice sfw alphabet for my favorite softboy newt scamander! I’m sorry for the delay. Feel free to like, reblog, or leave a comment!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Newt is a shy man, so his way to show affection is more subtle: he checks if you’ve eaten enough, if you’re warm, if you’re happy. It’s unusual for him to initiate any physical contact, like hugs or cheek kisses, but he’s happy when you do it.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Newt is the most supportive friend you’ll ever have. If you need someone to go with you to the craziest places to do dangerous things, he’ll follow you and will help as much as he can. Your friendship would start with you asking about his creatures. Then, he’d want to show them to you, and you’d oblige happily. When his creatures took a liking to you, he knew it was true friendship.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Would cuddle only if you two know each other for a long time and if he’s comfortable physically with you. And even then, he would be too shy to actually initiate a cuddle session, and if he took the initiative, Newt would probably wait for you to sit down somewhere and then would put his head in your lap. Running your hands through his hair is a bonus.

If you two are in a relationship, he’ll as for cuddles making a puppy face, or will hug you from behind while you do something else. Like to be the little spoon because he feels safe with you, but also likes to be the big spoon because he feels as if he can protect you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Newt has settled down: his suitcase! Even if you two travel to the farthest ends of the world, your home is always with you.

After spending so long traveling and taking care of creatures, he knows how to do his chores the right way.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would blame it on work. He wouldn’t look you in the eye and would be fixing things all over his workplace to distract himself. Then, after you would leave, he would let a few tears spill, and also in the middle of the night when he wakes up missing you.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He would wait a while before bringing the subject up, and wouldn’t make a surprise out of it. If he felt like you weren’t going to leave him and that you actually loved him, Newt would sit down with you and talk about marriage.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Newt Scamander is the gentlest man you’ll ever meet. He handles everything with all the care in the world: his creatures, his magic, and you. Physically, sometimes it will be hard to tell if he touched you or not, giving how softly he does it. If you want to be handled with less care, you’ll have to ask him.

Emotionally, he’s still getting the hang of it, and talking about any issues you two might have is mandatory for him. Each day that passes by, he learns something else about you and takes it to heart. The last thing he wants to do is hurting you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

If you two are just friends, he’ll be a little more cautious in his hugs, and it will happen more rarely. They are quick and usually, there’s a reason behind them.

If you two are a couple though, he’ll do it more often and mostly when you two are alone. PDA is not really his thing, but he enjoys physical contact with you after intimacy is settled. His hugs will last longer and he’ll hold you more tightly.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes some time, will only say it if you say it first and the first time he actually says it, he thinks you’re asleep.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Newt doesn’t get jealous very often: he trusts you and he knows that people will want to hit on you. Though sometimes he gets insecure and needs reassurance, it doesn’t happen a lot.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

It’s like having a butterfly on your lips. He’s delicate, touches you very carefully and somehow always manages to leave you at ease. He likes your lips, of course, but also your wrists and the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. It’s an unconscious action: he hugs you and his lips end there.

He likes being touched- not by everyone, just a few people- so anywhere is good. He becomes jello if you kiss him on the neck, his heart sweells when you put your lips on his forehead.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He likes children, though he sees them more as creatures than actual small humans.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He wakes up very early, so it’s rare to spend the whole morning with him, as usually by the time you get up he’s already off doing something. He always leaves tea ready for you if you like it.

If he stays with you though, his shyness will go away and he’ll cling to you and the only way to get up is if you cuddle him for at least one hour. Kisses are also mandatory.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He also goes to sleep very late, but so do you. Both too exhausted to talk or read or interact, you just lay down in a pile in the bed. It’s warm and comfortable, and Newt sleeps well.

If you’re not too tired, you might read a little of your book to him, or you might talk about your respective days, and he brushes your hair because he finds it so soft. Whispering everything and nothing, and then falling asleep. He always stays a little bit longer to stare at you and take in all your details.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It takes time. He lets out little pieces of information for you, and if you pay attention at some point you’ll have the bigger picture.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

His name should be Newt Patient Scamander. Never gets angry at you, even if you screw up really badly. Like to teach you stuff when you don’t understand and if there’s a fight, prefers talking it out over staying mad.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers everything, as he’s good at keeping information. He never says he knows all about you though, so you never stop getting surprised when he mentions a little detail about you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time he showed you the inside of his suitcase, of course. Watching you interact with his creatures and how gentle you were with them made him realize he was falling in love with you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He knows how well you can take care of yourself, so he never interferes, only if you ask him to. His way of protecting you is making sure that you've eaten and that you are well-rested. He will never admit it, but he loves it when you get protective of him in a fight or in dangerous situations. He also loves when you cuss him for not sleeping enough because he feels taken care of.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

In his mind, everything you do together is a date, so he always acts romantic. Not a lot of effort, but always remembers you why you fell for him. Anniversaries and gifts, oh these are handmade and filled with love. He has a great time making them. In everyday tasks, as you share the things you have to do around the house, he makes sure to do all his assigned shores.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Not sharing his worries. When it comes to problems in the relationship, he likes to talk about it, but if it’s something only him is going through, he says nothing. You wish he would let you in, but he doesn’t.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He looks at himself a lot but doesn’t see himself as handsome or ugly. He always feels normal, so he’s not that concerned about how he looks. If you mention it though, he’ll blush and mess with his hair.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

It wouldn’t be a huge part of his life, but deep down he would have a feeling that something was missing.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He likes sharing clothes. Whether it is shirts, sweaters, pants, socks, or ties, he just likes this feeling that you have a part of him and he has a part of you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone that lives only in their own world. He likes people who are involved in the things around them, he likes to share his interests and to learn about yours and he likes to discover new things together. If he were to be with someone stuck in their own bubble, it just wouldn’t work out.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Only the necessary. If he didn’t pass out, then the nap was enough. Though, after you two started your relationship, his sleeping habits are better: he spends more time in bed because of you.

#fbawtft imagine #newt scamander #newt scamander imagine #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x y/n #sfw alphabet

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bleh-bleh-blehs · 4 years

Text

Are you there?

Tom Holland x Reader

A/N- This is my submission to @hollandsrecs‘ fic bingo. This the most mature thing I have ever written (kinda graphic), so please don’t read if anything triggers you. This is completely a figment of my imagination. Please, please leave feedback, like and reblog. I think that’s it. Enjoy:) feel free to call me out for my mistakes

Warning- Trying to do suicide (graphic), taking compromising pictures without consent, posting compromising picture without consent. (PLEASE NEVER DO ANY OF THESE)

Word count- 2.5k

Tom was in a hurry, so much hurry that he forgot to take the correct number of his new assistant. He didn’t even bother confirming it. To be honest he wanted to sleep; he wanted rest. The countless stunts, shoots, reshoots had drained every single ounce of energy he had.

They were half way shooting but Tom’s previous assistant couldn’t keep the privacy of both Tom and the movie secret. Hence David was introduced.

Tom wanted to leave so badly that he forgot to tell David that he was taking a break tomorrow. The director was shooting some scenes that did not include him. And Tom consulted his day off with the director at the last minute. If Tom was not on set then why would David be there too.

“Come David pick up the phone.” I was the sixth time Tom had called the number, which he thought belonged to his P.A. He let out an irritated sigh, his head was pounding and Tom thought it would almost burst now.

“What do you want?” The call was answered finally. But the voice on the other side was of a girl, in a quiet whisper. Her voice was a bit hoarse as if she was crying.

Tom didn’t even bother about him calling the wrong person or informing David. He was now worried about the person who answered his call. ”Are you alright?” he finally asked. This was the only thing he felt was right to say.

“Why do you care, and who are you?” she replied with a gulp. “I was trying to call someone else and I have clearly called the wrong number, but now I am worried about you. Your voice sounds like you’ve been crying for hours. So therefore I am gonna ask you again. Are you alright, darling?”

And then he heard nothing, it was radio silent on the other side. Tom checked his phone to see if the girl had hung up, but she hadn’t. “Are you there?” he asked again.

After a few minutes of what Tom felt like an eternity, the girl replied. “I am not.” Was all she said before she broke down into tears.

“Hey, hey, hey, drink some water and talk to me.” Tom tried to calm her down. He forgot about informing David about his day off, he totally forgot about his headache. He was genuinely worried about the girl he had accidentally called.

“I just want to die, I am done with this mental torture.” she cried uncontrollably. “ Please don’t think about dying. Think about your friends and family, think about how much your death will hurt them. Please dear, don’t take any wrong step.” Tom said, already panicking.

“My family will hate me after they know what happened. And I don’t have friends, not after what happened to me.” Tom was more confused now, he wanted to know what happened to her. And can only guess that whatever it was, it was bad enough for her to think about dying.

But Tom will not ask her now, maybe later but right now it was important to calm her down and help her with whatever he can.

It wasn’t your fault that everyone judged you; called you names. You always preserved yourself for someone you trusted; but that didn’t since a bastard thought it was good to take you to his bed when you were drunk.

And if that was enough he took your nude photos when you were sleeping and posted them on the university’s instagram account, operated by students, where every single student of the university can see it.

And since from then you were called words that you never thought would be given to you.

Your photo was taken down by instagram but you were sure that people had it saved in their phones. You didn’t have many friends but the one you had left you alone. You were alone in this place that had become hell for you.

The teachers paid no mind to students’ business. Everyone either looked at with great hate or made a comment about you. You didn’t even exist for them before this scandal.

You tried to stay strong but everybody has their breaking point.

And you decided to end it all. The only thing that would save your parents from being ashamed of you. The only thing that would end it all.

Here you sat with a blade in your hand, focusing all of your courage to bring your other up. As you were just about to cut your wrist your phone rang. You didn’t bother to answer it and focus on the task you were doing.

You let it rang again and again, you didn’t let your phone bother you. But then you lost all the courage you have had build to kill yourself. And you looked at your phone to find that an unknown number was calling you.

You finally answered it asking “What do you want?” to whoever was calling you so desperately. Your voice still hoarse from all the crying you have done before.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked, it was laced with worry . You felt as if an angel had called you to stop you from ending your life. You sobbed at the thought. Even his voice sounded angelic.

“Why do you even care and who are you?” His sweet voice confused you a little bit. Why would someone worry about you and he didn’t even knew you.

“I was trying to call someone else and I have clearly called the wrong number, but now I am worried about you. Your voice sounds like you’ve been crying for hours. So therefore I am gonna ask you again. Are you alright, darling?” He replied. You started to process his words in your head, thinking if you have heard him correctly.

“Are you there?” he asked a few minutes later. Your mind was debating on telling your problems to a stranger but at least he was listening.

“I am not.” You said before breaking down into tears.

“Hey, hey, hey, drink some water and talk to me.” You tried to calm yourself as much you could.

“I just want to die, I am done with this mental torture.” you said. “ Please don’t think about dying. Think about your friends and family, think about how much your death will hurt them. Please dear, don’t take any wrong step.” he immediately said. How can someone be so kind in this world. You totally believed that he was an angel.

“My family will hate me after they know what happened. And I don’t have friends, not after what happened to me.” You were sure that he must be confused and you wanted to tell everything but not right now. You checked the time on your phone, it was almost 1am.

“I will tell you but I think we should sleep now.” you said praying that he will let the topic go. You just wanted some rest. And since it was the weekend there will be no shity comments and the judging glares for you.

“Ok but promise me that you’ll not hurt yourself.” he told you. “Yes I won’t and I owe you answers, so will not leave you hanging.” You sat up straight, you were tired of everything and the worry in his voice was the only thing that made you really rethink your decisions.

“You don’t owe me anything darling” he replied. You smiled loving the way he called you ‘darling’. “I never asked your name? By the way I’m Y/N.” you heard him chuckle and swear to god it sounded so cute.

“I am Tom and I think we should sleep because I am in desperate need of sleep.” he yawned and you chuckled. “I don’t wanna sound like a cheesy person but laugh sounds much better than your cry.” You laughed at him. “Oh, does it?” “Yep.” he yawned again.

“You should sleep.” you tell him. “Yeah, and so should you. Have you eaten anything today? If you haven’t, then eat something before sleeping. Okay.” He said firmly.

“I will. Bye Tom and thank you for listening to me.” You said before getting up, throwing the blade away. “Yeah bye and the pleasure was all mine. Goodnight Y/N” he said before hanging up. You were really hungry; you literally stopped eating properly since your photos were released.

You and Tom talked the whole weekend away. You told him about you losing your virginity to someone so cruel, who finds it funny to show everyone your modesty. You decided not to go to university since you would lose all your confidence because of what been happening to you.

And Tom supported you in your decision. It was final semester anyway and your final exams were going to start by the end of the week.

You studied for exams without paying attention to the chaos happening in your life. Late night talks with Tom kept you sane. You walked into your university with embarrassment and paid no mind to what others had to say about because at the end of day you will call Tom and tell him how brave you were.

No matter how busy he was, Tom would always return your call. He even ordered pizzas for you. But sadly he is gonna leave soon and you begged him to meet you but he always said “I will meet when it is the right time.” and you huffed at him. “When will the right come.” you whined.

“Patience my darling. And tell me where that div lives.” you laughed at Tom; The way he switches his American accent his British accent always made you both fascinated and made you laugh.

“I have already told you his name. But I don’t exactly know where he lives. At first I thought he lived in the frat house but he lives in one of his father’s expensive apartments. “But what is the most common place to find him?” Tom asked. “Parties. You can always find him at parties.” You said scrunching your eyebrows together, wondering what Tom was up to. “Are there any parties in the near future where he would definitely be?” he asked.

“Yes, there is a party on saturday, where I think he would be.” you said scratching your forehead. Why was he asking these questions, you thought.

“Can you go there?” Tom asked, he had this master plan and David was helping him in it.

“Tom I stopped going to parties after what had happened to me.” He heard the fear in Y/N’s voice. “Don’t worry darling, I am going there too. Just text me the address and you wanted to meet me too right? We will just show horse fuckers that you are not alone.” he heard you sigh.

“Fine, only because I want to meet you.” You said. Tom turned around and showed thumbs up to David who returned the gesture. “Thank you darling, I have to go now. Talk to you later.” Tom said rather excitedly.

Saturday came quickly and here were standing in front of your mirror having second thoughts about your dress. It was showing a bit of your cleavage and your thighs. But then you thought ‘fuck it’ you are getting ready for Tom and didn’t want to think about what those idiots are comment about our body.

You started to feel nervous as soon as you walked into the party. Many boys whistled at you, called you names, many gave you a grossed out expression. And you waited for Tom to come because what else could you do?

Tom arrived at the party 5 minutes later after he got your text saying that ‘you have arrived there’. He knew that every second for you was hell there alone. The obnoxious loud music was hurting his ears.

He told David to cover for him because Tom didn’t want anyone to recognize him. Well he doubted that anyone can recognize since they are so drunk but he was proven wrong when some girls walked near him. David helped him push to push past the crowd.

“Which one do you think is Y/N?” David asked him. Tom smiled and pointed at you standing in the corner. “The one who is alone, trying to cover herself and is also looking for someone.” he started to walk near.

“David can please shut this loud music.” David mumbled a quiet ok and left towards the DJ.

“Y/N.” you heard someone call your name. You turned to find Tom, no Tom Holland standing beside you. “Hey darling.” he said. His voice was the same as the voice you have been hearing since past month.

How can you be so idiot and not realise that you were talking to a celebrity. The celebrity you had been crushing on.

“I know I am handsome, darling but you don’t have to stare.” he chuckled and you pouted. You were well aware of the glares you were getting. “You are much more pretty than I have imagined.” he said, intertwining your and his hands.

“Where is he?” He asked you and you looked up towards the crowd to find the person who had destroyed your life. You found him almost immediately, he stood there with a neutral expression on his face.

You nodded in his direction and Tom got into action. “You are the one I’ve heard about. Aren’t you?” Tom looked so intimidating like this, anyone in their right mind would know that he was angry. David made sure no one was recording this.

“Well I think I am pretty famous if you have heard about me.” That jerk had the audacity to smirk. “Only the bad things.” Tom said as he backed that div into the wall. “You know you can get sued for posting someone’s nudes without their consent and you even took them without her consent.” Tom gritted his teeth at him.

“Oh really and who is gonna sue me. Y/N? She doesn’t have enough money to do that.” His smirk grew wide. “Oh in that case David.” Tom motioned towards David. On the queue Davis gave a pen and document to you and told you to sign them.

You signed them as fast you could and gave them back to David.

“There you go, she has sued you. David will submit the document tomorrow. I hope your father is proud of you. Come on darling let’s get out of here.” You took his hand and left very shocked kids behind.

“Oh my god you are Tom Holland.” you start to fangirl as soon as you sit in his car. ‘Yes darling, the one and only.” he chuckled. “Can I hug you?” you blurted and started to laugh. “Of course Y/N, you don’t have to ask me.” And he engulfed you in a tight hug which reciprocated.

You felt unbelievably safe in his arms.

Your love for Tom only growed with time and Tom felt the same. You were with your family currently, searching for jobs in London because you didn’t want a long distance relationship.

And Tom couldn’t be more happier than picking you up from the airport, knowing that you are going to live with him.

He can’t be more grateful that he called the wrong number that day.

Permanent Taglist:-

@spidey-reids-2003, @musicalkeys, @mischiefmanaged011, @parkerpeter24, @missguidedlani, @justanothermarvelmaniac, @whatthefuckimbisexual, @peterspideysstuff, @halfblood-princess-505, @liestookmyvibes, @captainchrisstan, @rnatasha, @seutarose , @adriannajackson, @tombob2005, @ethereal-beauty-p, @hollanderfangirl

Mutuals who I thought might be interested:-

@chloecreatesfictions, @hollandtown, @fallinfortom, @azaraspirit

#hrficbingo1k #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine #reader insert #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

153 notes · View notes

atiny-dazzlinglight · 2 years

Text

I posted 439 times in 2021

194 posts created (44%)

245 posts reblogged (56%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.3 posts.

I added 273 tags in 2021

#dee speaks - 139 posts

#xiuminswifeforever - 24 posts

#love of my life - 22 posts

#anontiny - 18 posts

#dee writes - 16 posts

#casanova - 12 posts

#8makes1teamnet - 11 posts

#kdiarynet - 11 posts

#mari 🌷 - 10 posts

#ateez oneshot - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#you want to publish your work so people can see and appreciate it but if a hard stan or smut writer reblog it now it’s an issue

My Top Posts in 2021

Dee’s Kinktober - Day 5: Size Training + Knotting

Genre: Smut, Slight angst in the beginning

Rating: 18+

Aus/Tropes: Fantasy au

Pairing: Dragon!Seonghwa x Hongjoong

WC: 3.4k

Sexual Warnings: Size Training, Knotting, Corruption Kink, Slight Masochism, Nipple Play, Ass Eating, Oral male giving and receiving, Fingering, Praising Kink, Choking

Oneshot Warnings: Mention of Minor character death

Ao3 Link

Notes: Yeahhhhhh, I went crazy for this one, so enjoy this one

Last Post Next Post

Hongjoong never thought he would fall for a dragon. Shit, he didn’t know he would fall for anyone for that matter because of the life he had, but here is now.

He didn’t ask to be here at the start. The town had chosen him as the human offering to the dragon that brings them prosperity and protection in exchange. They thought he was the perfect one this year since his mother died in the spring and his father drank his pain away. He wouldn’t be missed.

The town watched as the wind picked up and an obsidian body broke through the clouds to the offering. Hongjoong wanted to run, but after his efforts, he was shackled to the post. Hongjoong watched as the creature glanced at him with his golden eyes before looking at the rest of his gifts. Meat, vegetables, grains, and more. A hiss came from its mouth and magic engulfed it and disappeared.

It’s not come near his face and Hongjoong ducked down. It inhaled his scent before its eyes landed on the shackles holding him there. When Hongjoong looked back up, it seemed displeased before the bonds broke with a snap. Hongjoong glanced at his wrist in astonishment before changing into panic as he was lifted. His legs dangled as the dragon used his mouth to pick him up. He turned his back to the townspeople before flapping its wings and taking off.

Hongjoong was screaming his head off, never being this high in his life. It felt like he was there forever until the dragon landed on a beautiful sculpted castle and gently put him down. Hongjoong clung to the ground before turning down to look at the dragon, tears brimming his eyes. He didn’t want to die like this…

But then before his eyes, purple flames engulfed the dragon, and Hongjoong shielded himself from the fire, but yet he felt no heat. When he looked back up, a man with raven hair stood in front of him and offered him a hand.

“ I’m sorry for scaring you like that. I wasn’t sure if my magic could transport you back here with any consequences. You would have flown off if you held onto me if I placed you on my back, plus my scales are sharp. Are you okay?” The man stared at him with wide eyes, patiently waiting for you to reach for him.

“ Your…the dragon?”

“ Yes, I’ve been cursed to take this form and I’ve been like this for years. When I first was cursed with this form, I had nearly destroyed that village, and they started to give offerings to me so that I wouldn’t attack them anymore.” He explained as Hongjoong slowly grabbed his hand to stand up, “ I’m Seonghwa, by the way. What’s yours?”

“ H-hongjoong.”

“ Well, it’s nice to meet you, Hongjoong and you are free to go.” Seonghwa walked past him, heading towards the door. Hongjoong stood there dumbfounded until he reached for his arm.

“ Wait! Can I leave? Just like that? I won’t get eaten?” Hongjoong asked, and Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“ I don’t eat any humans unless they attack me first. They started giving me humans on their own. Any humans I took with me, I let them go right after. You all aren’t that tasty. Do you not want freedom? You were the only one that they have chained up like that.”

Hongjoong lowered his head, “ I have nothing to go back to. No parents or friends and I’m not too skilled in much of anything. I would rather you kill me than head back out there….”

Seonghwa surveyed him before turning back to head to the door, “ Then stay here until you develop enough skills to survive on your own.”

Hongjoong stared at his back before he rushed to follow behind him.

Hongjoong never thought he would have such an enjoyable time with Seonghwa. The man was skilled and knowledgeable and he taught him a lot of things. He was patient in everything he instructed him, and Hongjoong found himself enjoying his company more than he should have. He was with a beast that could kill him if not with strength, but with magic as well if he pleased. But all the man did was make sure that he felt safe with him.

Hongjoong doesn’t know when his feelings started to change for the dragon, but he knew it was something he hadn't felt before. He would feel incredibly lonely whenever he would leave for supplies or go to dangerous areas for humans. But in contrast, he was in such a good mood just being around him.

So it came as a surprise when Seonghwa told him some news.

See the full post

92 notes • Posted 2021-10-05 16:04:20 GMT

Ateez Nsfw Alphabet

Part 2: Seonghwa

Pairing: Seonghwa x gender neutral! reader

Genre: Smut, Headcannons

WC: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of Exhibitism, Mentions of Bondage, Mentions of Power Play, Mentions of Edging, Mentions of Toys

Notes: Just wanted to put something out cause I feel like it’s been a while. So please take this for now

A = Aftercare

Seonghwa is one of the kings of aftercare. He’ll run you a bath, grab you some snacks or just give you the pillow talk that will make you fall in love with him more. If it was a rougher session, he’s gonna make sure there you’re okay and all to the point to where you think that you fucked with a completely different man.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Seonghwa’s favorite body part on him will probably be his eyes. You’ve seen the fancams. He only has to give you a look and your panties will fly off in an instant. Now his favorite part on you would be your legs. Whether there on his shoulders, wrapped around his waist, or up in the air, he just loves them. So wearing skirts, shorts, or some form-fitting bottoms will gain his attention fast.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Seonghwa tries his best to keep it neat. Condoms are often used for a quick clean up and more aftercare time. But when he doesn’t wear a condom ( after you told him that he doesn’t need to all the time), he’s someone to finish on your stomach, but he has no problem cumming inside of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would never do it or mention this willingly, but after you pull some teeth, Seonghwa admits he has an exhibitionist kink. Like if one of the members caught them and Seonghwa notices, he’ll keep going and keep eye contact with them. Seonghwa has this possessive streak and likes to show off what people can’t have and that’s you. It’s a big turn-on, but he wouldn’t involve another person unless your comfortable.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I feel like he at least slept with at least one person maybe pushing it to two. I feel like one might have been serious and they other was a spur of the moment. I don’t believe that man is a virgin. He’s done something

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Captain

Seonghwa really loves this position. He grew to love it after you continuously try to close your legs whenever he’s pleasuring you. Hwa is here for the visuals, so he made it a habit to grab you by the ankles and keep them spread. It also gives him a chance to rub your clit and to touch you some more if he wants to. Looking down at you like that is what sends him over though.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Seonghwa is more on the serious side. Not saying that he couldn’t be funny, but he gets so focused on pleasing the both of you that there isn’t any room to do that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He manscapes pretty often. It’s trimmed low and he doesn’t particularly like being extremely hairy down there. He also loves when you deepthroat him so as common courtesy, he keeps it low.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The king of intimacy. He wants eye contact, he loves holding onto each other and whispering sweet nothings that would send anyone over the edge. When it’s one of those slow burn types of nights, he loves to hold your hand and kiss you deeply. Those nights are really special to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jacks off whenever he has free time. With his schedules, your schedules, recording and etc, he does it when he has any type of free time. He learned to cum quick in those instances, even though he likes taking it slow with himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This man loves bondage and I stand by that strongly. He likes to use cuffs, fabric, or any type of restraint because he just enjoys it. Has a thing for power play and man does he loves to edge you and himself. It makes it all the better when he edges both himself and his lover for a while and let it all come crashing down. Like I mentioned earlier, he does have a slight exhibitionist kink as well. It makes the whole act all the more enjoyable for him

See the full post

108 notes • Posted 2021-01-25 01:46:24 GMT

How does Ateez cuddle their s/o

Genre: Fluff / Reaction

Rating: PG

Pairing: Ateez x gender neutral! Reader

WC: 808

Warnings: None

Notes: Something soft to come back with so enjoy this for now

Hongjoong is probably the small spoon more often you are

If he’s holding you, he would whisper sweet nothings into your ears. Ones that will always make you smile.

Once he gets comfortable though, he’s a dead body. He’s not getting up at all and he will definitely but upset if he wakes up and your aren’t there. Don’t worry it’s like a fake upset that will lead to teasing

“Can’t believe you left me while I was sleeping” fake pout and a dramatic eye roll before smiling and telling you that he slept good because of you

See the full post

132 notes • Posted 2021-04-15 01:50:45 GMT

Making out (and having sex) with Ateez and their manager calls/come into the room

Request: Hey can you request making out with ateez/ or having sex with Ateez and their manager calls them or come into the room

Genre: Suggestive/Fluff

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: ateez x gender neutral!reader

WC: 957

Warnings: Implied Sex, Making out, small mentions of a Handjob

Notes: I decided to make this one into a full blown work because I can’t write this short. So thank you sweetie for this request and I hope you enjoy this! Also tried to make these all a bit different in someway too.

Hongjoong

You and Hongjoong would be in the studio and you would be getting him to relax and pay some attention to you, so your on his lap.

Y’all would be making out and doing some heavy touching, probably grinding down on him and he would pull you closer to do that even more potential and then the manager knock and comes in without even waiting for Hongjoong to answer

You both would stop and feel flustered and Hongjoong would would probably be a bit more irritated (like a tiny bit) that’s he was interrupted

Best believe that once he leaves Hongjoong would continue what he’s doing and he don’t plan on stopping this time

See the full post

218 notes • Posted 2021-04-18 02:21:26 GMT

21:27pm

Genre: Smut

Rating: 18+

Aus/Tropes: Non-idolverse, Demon Au, Incubus Au

Pairing: Incubus!Hongjoong x fem! reader

WC: 1.6k

Sexual Warnings: Degradation, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Edging, Squirting, Dacryphilia

Notes: Late timestamp for birthday boy Hongjoong but please enjoy. I shouldn’t even call this a timestamp, but oh well

Taglist at the bottom. If you want to be added, fill out the taglist form here

Your best friend was right. You should have taken any spiritual and supernatural things seriously, or else there would be consequences.

You shrugged them off, not believing in most things that are spooky. So to rile them up, you did a summoning for a demon and laughed the entire time as they freaked. It was worth the scolding as they left your apartment for the night, pouty and upset at you. You knew they would forgive you in the morning.

So after the scared and giggles, you tidy up your apartment before stripping out of your clothes and getting in the shower. You sighed as the warm water cascaded on you before you jumped at a sound. You peeked out from behind the curtains, listening for any other sounds and when you didn’t, you went back and continued your shower.

Once you were done, you dried most of your body before wrapping yourself with the towel and walking back into your bedroom, only to stop.

You saw a shadow in the corner by the window. You squinted, hoping your eyes were messing with you when you saw said shadow turn around. “ Ah, good you're finished! Didn’t want to interrupt you.”

You took a step back, and in the blink of an eye, he was in front of you. A whisk of cold air hit you, making you shiver as the lights turned back on to reveal a man…no, that’s not it. He couldn’t be. He has black horns that curl upwards onto his head and pointed ears.

“ Who?…”

He gave a surprised look, “ You don’t know who I am? But you just summoned me earlier.”

You felt your stomach drop as your body went cold. You felt his hand wrap around your waist, instantly warming you up again. You were lost in thought as you stared into the golden eyes that looked back at you. “ I thought it was fake….”

“ Oh no, sweetheart. This is all real right now,” he leaned into your ear, his voice deep as you felt his body press closer, “ You summoned an Incubus sweetheart and you're stuck with me for quite some time.”

“ So, a sex demon?” You questioned and he giggled, a sound that seemed quite hypnotic to your ears.

“ Yes, I’m here to take care of any sex desires you may have. You can either have a wild night with me and I’ll be out your hair before the morning comes, or make a deal, and I’ll stay by your side for the rest of your life. How does that sound?” He explained to you before stepping back a bit and tilting his head to the side. “ I’m Hongjoong, by the way.”

You stood there, holding onto your towel as you tried to think it all over.

It must be a dream. There’s no way something like this could happen. It’s the only logical explanation. So maybe you should indulge in it all while you're still asleep. This demon man you conjured up was hot, so why not enjoy some good sex in your dreams?

“ How about we see how one night goes before I agree to you staying here forever hm?” You tell him as you walk closer to him as he stays still.

“ So, is that a yes?” Hongjoong’s eyes flicked over your body as he patiently awaited your answer.

“Yes, it is. Make it worth the while.” Your tone switches to sounding playful and a grin before he waved his hand and you felt your body fall onto the bed. You tried sitting up, but you found yourself unable to move. You watched him hover over the top of your body before looking at your lips. His hand trailed up your body until his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip before leaning down to kiss you.

You kissed him back eagerly, moving your lips with his before he pressed his tongue inside your mouth. His tongue tasted sweet and it made you hum. This kiss became a bit sloppily, but you didn’t care until he pulled his mouth off of yours. Your body started to feel tingly and hot, making you squeeze your thighs together.

“ Oh, you're a responsive one to my aphrodisiac~ I feel like I’m going to enjoy my time with you.” He purred as he kissed at your throat, leaving some bites in their wake as he continued down your body. His hand grabbed a handful of the towel before pulling it off of you, leaving you sprawled out and naked for him as he continued kissing down your body. He kissed the valley between your breast, ignoring your nipples as he trailed down your stomach and between your legs.

You watched as his yellow eyes glowed in the dim lighting before he spread your legs wide apart and dived in like a starving man.

Oh, how you wanted to dig your fingers in his hair and keep him close. The man worked wonders on you. The way his tongue lapped at your wetness and his fingers pumping and stretching you open; you couldn’t find it in yourself to stay quiet. You moaned and whined as he added another finger inside of you, making you whine.

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

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Witcher of the Night (Chapter 13.1)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 13

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Geralt could feel what you also feel and he was cursing the Djinn for making you both feel this way because it was a feeling that was certainly irresistible for one man to ever control. You were in heat, and it doesn’t seem to be such a good idea for the witcher to try and resist.

Warnings: This is just a filler chapter for the smut in the next chapter. Ahonhonhon! Kind of Jealous Geralt too? Lowkey? Hehehehe. A cute bard and Cirilla having the period-syndrome (I’m having it too rn and I’m thirsty for Geralt or any of Henry’s character. DAMN IT) I’ve given a name to the Djinn they’ve found because I’ve tried searching but found no name for every Djinn they find in the witcher? I think? Reader being so needy and in heat. (The animal type of heat for reasons..) Also, reader is...a virgin.

Words: 4.5k

A/N: You probably want to strangle me so hard right now, bb’s. I’m in the phase of a writer where I’m procrastinating stuff but not exactly a writer’s block. Just want to do things besides writing all day or I’m prolly just sleepy with no damn reason since last week. 😅😒

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Well, you're in a greater bad mood right now, rat." Jaskier frankly stated, wiping his lute with a cloth.

The night was serene with your heart strings balled up in a yarn. Your emotions consisting of woe with a face as if you lost a shit ton of money. You sat together with Jaskier in the middle of the vast leigh, knees touching against each other as the bard quietly sat with you in silence.

A bright purple evenfall draws nigh along the sky, stars finally becoming visible as you admired how beautiful their skies were. Less pollution and more aesthetic, though a lot more eccentricity happening around more than earth.

You've exhaled one last sigh, mouth in a tight frown as you took notice of the moon that was in replete. A perfect shape of a circle as it shines bright.

"Is the witcher being an imbecile again?" the bard ceased his cleaning, giving you his sole attention as he watched your face contort in utmost upset. But, you chose to just let the sorrow go for a moment, admiring the stars and skies like it wasn't laughing back at you from how delusional you were for having strong feelings for the witcher, "Don't start, Jaskier."

"Your cantankerous attitude shown in your cherubic face tells me that you are gradually adapting Geralt's crabbiness because you accepted the position in being his lover---," Jaskier has managed to bluntly say, carefully placing his lute on the grass as he narrowed his eyes at you, "---Though, it does seem like a sacrifice, small rat. Your kindness shall be missed. I would like to see you try and let Geralt adapt to your naivity and sweetness. The vision is pretty hilarious, if you ask me!"

Your frown even grew tighter when he mentioned the word 'lover', shoulders falling from how dismayed you were from hearing it.

"I'm not his lover."

The bard couldn't help but raise a skeptical brow back at you, remembering what he saw last night. He knew he wasn't hallucinating nor daydreaming, "Oh, so kissing under the moonlight is considered as a friendly gesture in my era now? If so, then this means you wouldn't mind kissing me too!"

He puckered his lips, making smooching sounds as slowly tried to teasingly close the gap between you both as Jaskier pouted to act as if he was about to give you a kiss on the cheek when you've yelped and immediately had your palms over his mouth, gently pushing his face away from you, "Jaskier! What are you even---?!"

He comfortably sat back down and had his knee over his chest prior to the position he had now, which was in criss-cross as he playfully shrugged. His pretty baby blues looking at the darkening sky, "A shame. I've been told by countable lads and lasses that I do kiss like I take their breath away,"

You tutted at that, shaking your head from his teasing and tried to send a hostile sally, "You suck then. Do you want them dying because of lack of breath?"

Your animosity has been curved by the bard. He seemed like he was acting like he didn't hear you as he let his eyes flicker to you again; going on with his jests, "Thank you by the way. I've been sleeping much soundly since the couple of days and you seemed to be having such wonderful dreams every night,"

Bawdy indications were hinted in between Jaskier's words; making you give him a glare that obviously made him grin like he won the lottery; thinking that your previous rendezvous back in Geralt's room when he wasn't around had some provocative explanations.

He didn't know your symbol was hurting a lot more on those nights where Geralt wasn't around.

You brush off his ribald comment, "I didn't do it for you,"

"I thought you were actually asking for forgiveness by calling me a horse's arse minutes ago? You're knowing the blasphemy of our language but totally naive of every monsters and places we have here. It doesn't seem to be such a thing to be proud of,"

Jaskier continued his blathers without even letting you talk, freely letting you give him death glares because he seemed to be more mouthy as days go by. You turn a deaf ear to exhale an exasperated breath, "I'm taking it back. You're still annoying as heck," before unabashedly laying your head down on his lap.

His yakking has been brought to a halt when he'd felt your head fall on his lap, the bard suddenly uttering quizzical gibbers that you continued to ignore as you felt the bracing wind hit your body; appreciating the eventide in quietude.

"Alright, alright! I'm not complaining...Ughm," Jaskier cleared his throat, anxiously scratching his head as he tried his best not to look at you.

The fullness of the moon has been drawing you in again. In a tranquil night, it was as if the stars began to whisper sweet nothings, lately realizing that their soft whispers has actually been your wishes; albeit, you've broken them down together, your whims willing and having no desire for you to actually come back in earth.

With only one thing in your mind, it was to stay with Geralt and his family.

But, do you really mean it? If you would choose earth or their dimension, were you serious that you wanted to stay?

Though, for him; you weren't that sure if he also wanted the same thing. If Geralt wasn't around, you were probably already dead, have been sold by noblemen or eaten by their monsters.

But, the stars seemed to jump out of the sky when you've heard a loud thundercrack of a door that came from the inside of their house, snapping the bard quiet as the noise tugged you out of your happy place; a place that you hoped Geralt came with.

The night has went slower, time ticking a lot more deliberately when one person is probably upset with another. Especially, when the person you were upset with lived in the same house as you and even was the owner of the bed you sleep on.

You were beginning to feel rickety as seconds pass by while Jaskier tried worming out whatever he had asked to Cirilla whom was feeding Kolby with a basket full of obsolete bread.

"Tell me why the back door is now broken off its hinges?" he asked in incredulity, hands on his hips as he had seen the brown, wooden door hanging with all its life, trying hard not to fall.

Hence, as they continued their talk; you couldn't help but massage that aching part of your chest, the one where the symbol laid upon the valley of your breasts as you heavily breathed.

It was attacking again.

The weight and fiery phantom of fingers grasping your heart more severe rather than the nights you had it felt like a rabid monster wanted to come out of cage. Their cold weather suddenly all swelter; as if you were walking on burnt out coals with one person clouding your mind.

Geralt.

You needed him, wanted him and yearned for his presence.

Cirilla gave a blatant shrug of her shoulders; sounding completely phlegmatic as she answered, "I don't know, bard. I didn't scream if that will make you any less more worried,"

Jaskier had his eyebrows furrowed as he keenly pondered as to why their door was broken all of a sudden, "Has there been a beast?" his slim, calloused fingers moved restlessly; dwelling onto what has raided their own home. The bard looked anywhere, continuing to be in distress while Cirilla patted the Hirikka's head with utmost care as she watched him devour everything in the basket, "You mean, Geralt?" she gave Jaskier a once over before turning back to look at Kolby, thoroughly undisturbed that it was the witcher's doing, "---He went out for a second and then came back, breaking the door off its hinges. But, he promised to fix it,"

Jaskier's head veered to where she was crouched in the middle of the living room, his baby blue eyes full of concern as he opened his mouth to tell all his inquiries but was instantly shut closed when he'd seen you hunched in his peripheral vision, palms on your knees as you were breathing like you were being chased by another Alghoul.

The latter took heed of those sweat drops falling on the side of your face as you were heaving deep breaths. Your head was darkening in assailing images of those familiar amber eyes you've grown to be thoroughly fond of; longing to be consumed by those glowing golden aureate.

You've heard someone walking closer to where you stood, seeing Jaskier crouch to give you a scrutiny of his baby blues. Bright azures. You didn't yearn for that. All you wanted was golden. His golden and you couldn't help but whimper, your chest has giving you agony as if you were being pricked in the heart by small needles, "You're sweating like a rabid---rat, are you alright?"

Another deep inhale of your breath; you breathlessly muttered, "I am Jaskier---It's just---" nevertheless, those train of thoughts couldn't be completed by the excruciating pain that ignited a troubled mewl. You straightened your back, making Jaskier stand up as well to scan your face for any signs as to what was happening to you, but only had seen your face painfully contorted in a way that tells him you were in agony.

"It's hot. Too hot," pause. You swallowed the tight knot of confining sensations wanting to be let out, "---Abnormally hot. Hot in two different ways; like I wanna be impaled or something!"

At your most forthright honesty, your statement has made the bard blink rapidly from how blunt it sounded, being taken aback by how outspoken you suddenly become; a thorough change of your bashful self, "You're actually revealing lewd facts that should be kept to yourself. You are certainly not alright!"

You could feel yourself grow hotter, the heat being scorching and aching at the same time. Your legs began to weaken and you can't help but fold like a paper, squat down and the position was utmost impuissant; totally vulnerable with your palms on your ears as you tried to shut down the restless whispering that went on and on; ceaseless as you had no power over it.

Jaskier began to panic; his face brimful of dread, "----GERALT? WE HAVE A PROBLEM DOWN HERE!"

The soughing of breathless whispers were relentless, no matter how you tried to cover your ears; they just keep coming. It was incessant, never ending despite of how they were giving your chest a pain that seem to be unyielding as they went on and on.

Witcher. You wanted the witcher. You needed him, you longed for him.

"Stop saying the word witcher, Jaskier!" you abruptly scolded, sounding too jarring and ear-piercing; void of kindness as you could feel the aggravation going to your head with the additional non-stop rustle of voices. The bard eyed you skeptically as he added, finding your rebuke rather surprising and odd because he never said anything about it, "I wasn't even uttering a word!"

Warm, slender fingers fell on your shoulders; trying his best to comfort you while the witcher wasn't coming down from his chambers yet. Nevertheless, from the moment he'd touch you, the toubadour has received a harsh slap of his hand being pushed away.

"Jaskier!" you harshly spat, your nose scrunched from how discomforting you were feeling.

He was quick to haul his arms up in surrender, stepping a foot away as he looked at you in horror, "Alright---I'm not touching you then!"

Another strained bleat left your lips as you were now fully sat on the floor, holding your chest as you continued to heave, shaking your head from the perpetual torment that tries its best to scream blandishments that sounded abridged. Some were incomprehensible and other words sounded lucid.

Destiny has it's price. It sounded just like a rustle of the winds as the shushed voices continued its onslaught. Two souls, together as one. Bound for eternal rest or a life forever. Zephyr shall protect. You cannot outrun death.

Your whimpers started to gradually increase, mewling in the process when you've exhaled a sigh as the needles seem to turn bigger, "It hurts, I swear it really hurts!" you screeched, body feeling like you were dropped in hot, molten lava as you were hearing foot steps treading in haste, "Geralt's coming, don't worry, rat."

Kolby prowled to where you sat; eternal mewls never ceasing as sexual, pent-up aggression was starting to travel to your head, but you tried to fight them off. Though, it ignited more pain as you struggled. Cirilla suddenly snapped her head to where you were, a tight lipped frown etching her face as she jogged to where you sat.

"Is she okay?" the pretty child asked in worry, watching you battle with something they couldn't see nor feel. Jaskier raised a brow; looking sardonic as he acknowledged, "No, she certainly isn't, Princess Cirilla."

She gave him a lour as she snarled; her riposte sounding a lot like the witcher because of how harsh it sounded, "I'm not in the mood for your sarcastic nonsense, bard."

Jaskier was unfazed as he took her retort like it was nothing, "Ooooh, is this how period--is it called period---does to a lassie?"

They're retaliations had them unaware of Geralt's presence who came marching down the stairs with an unfathomable expression on his face; the trepidation never seen in his features as it was emotionless, never giving anybody the panic that Jaskier, Cirilla and Kolby has been feeling when you've suddenly began bawling your eyes out from the thumping pain.

The witcher hurriedly crouched before you, his glowing amber eyes thoroughly scanning your features if there was anything weird happening; but to his discontent, Geralt noticed none.

He felt everything. Your frustration, pent-up aggression; venereal desires or not, the twinge of scorching ache that can't be relieved due to constraints given from the latter himself when he'd chose jurisdiction over his carnal wishes that you also wished.

But, he'd been bull-headed for his reasons; Geralt was not bargained for the repercussions held because of having no permanent proof that you were also suffering every night.

Just like him. Hence, the both of you needed relief. Corporeal appetites released for the betterment of both.

"She's in heat," Geralt rasped, trying to hear what you've been begging for and he sensed that you were hearing voices that continues to assault you, paining your chest as you were unaware of his presence that loom before you.

"What? Oh, Geralt! Cease the utter balderdash!" Jaskier exclaimed, eyeing the witcher who squat down in front of you.

Geralt's amber eyes has been searching for yours, but you've never let him see as you continued your hushed begging. He had his chiseled jaw clenched so tight, every breath he takes was also giving his chest a potent congesting pain that he can somehow resist. His medallion was vibrating wildly, alarming him that there was magic surrounding him.

Therefore, he knew the pain wasn't just one to disregard because he knew your pain has explanations that is needed to foresee.

Was the Djinn still in there? Keeping you as a host?

No. Impossible. The witcher thought at the back of his head because there were times that his medallion doesn't vibrate whenever he's around you, it only happened now and back then when you were possessed.

It was impossible that the Djinn was keeping you as its master as well. You could die if that ever happened. The seal was gone and never found back in the swamps, meaning to say it was already gone; broke free from its confinement because you already had three of your wishes.

Jaskier couldn't help but notice how clean and fixed Geralt's hair was. Hence, he'd started to acknowledge the aesthetic difference he claimed, "Also, did you just braid your majestic chalky white hair all by yourself?! Or did you do it, Princess Cirilla?" he bargained, utterly stunned from Geralt and his hair being braided, dubiously eyeing the lion cub of Cintra.

But, she only gave a nonchalant negation, "No."

"Oh, the rat did! She did a great job at making you look so feminine tonight, Geralt!"

Geralt paid no heed to Jaskier's teasing compliments, wanting nothing but to roll his eyes but ceased to do so as your fingers began to shake, his mind now in a perturbed fret as his gaze shifted anywhere to see what was causing your whole situation because he sees nothing. A tight furrow of his eyebrows tightly creased his forehead, "---The Djinn has given her effects for whatever the symbol does to her, bard."

Jaskier crouched beside where Geralt is, receiving a truculent glare that made the bard move away for an inch because his bellicose aura was radiating off him too much, "Symbol? What symbol?"

"I'm not showing you her chest." he bluntly chided as a low growl vibrated through his chest, giving Jaskier a hostile look in his glowing peepers.

The toubadour did a double-take, his mouth turning into an offended 'O' as he held a palm on top of his chest as he gestured to your squatted form, "I wasn't even asking you if I could see her breasts!"

"Then, shut up and stop asking."

Jaskier huffed, sulking beside the witcher because of how he'd suddenly become such a grump.

You've muttered a soft mewl, tightly closing your ears with your palms as you suddenly talked out loud, "I need Geralt. Where's Geralt?!" it was the only name you could hear, echoing inside your head as the heat traveled through your veins, searing and extremely scorching all of a sudden.

Your heartbeat was loudly drumming out of your chest. Sweat dripping down your face as the pain and heat was starting to make you feel lightheaded, his scent crashing through your senses. Earthy, pinewood and a mix of mannishness.

Geralt.

"Don't touch me!" It felt like you were burning; but also finding some aid to the ache as it soothed your heated skin like ice to the fire. You've felt his thick, rough fingers fall on your shoulder, making you jerk back as you looked at him; completely mortified for a second, "I'm here, midget." before the witcher tightened his hold on you, those fingers clasping around your feeble arm as he gazed upon you in deep concern.

"It's alright. Calm down, it's me." Geralt gently hushed your frantic state, softly grabbing the side of your jaw to make you look at him.

When he did, your eyes were dark and dilated, filled with carnal.

"You're having a hot spell," he roughly forced the words out of him, heavily swallowing whatever you were feeling because he's also having the same problems, but chose to restrain himself; doing a better job than any most men would, "A--A literal spell?" you didn't catch his drift and feel yourself breathing deep, his scent soothing your nerves as it also does the same for him.

Geralt shook his head, his fingers strapped on the side of your neck making his hand feel the pleasuring jolt. You've felt his fingers slightly tremble as your eyes were beseeching, those dilated pupils of yours tormenting him, "No. You're in heat, midget." pause. he lowly growled in displeasure, amber eyes pooling in keen, "---which explains your cravings for touches and the need for coition,"

Your face scrunched in pain and a mixture of pent-up frustration, the voices inside your head slowly dying down as it was now drowning in the witcher's unique, baritone timbre of his that was making you feel giddy before a jolt of pain rose up your chest again, "What am I---an animal?! Geralt, make it stop!"

Jaskier and Cirilla listened in silence. However, the bard fidgeted with the hem of his tunic; his mindless frets seeming to come up with such suggestions that will make everyone's mind boggle.

He raised a hand, not before taking a good look at you who had eyes pure of anguish and need which now focused at Geralt before he'd loudly cleared his throat, turning his head to see the witcher in distress from what other methods he could think of other than the impaling, "I have a proposal and an utterly brilliant idea to make the pain stop!"

Cirilla hushedly snorted, "His ideas are always nonsense. Don't listen to him, Geralt."

Jaskier placed his hands on his hips, pointing a finger at the princess, mouth opening before he was immediately ceased by Geralt himself.

"The princess is right, bard."

The sonneeter noted his lukewarm response, sounding like he actually opposes what Cirilla has reprimanded because all Geralt ever wanted and what clouds his mind is having his way with you, "---Give the small rat what she wants, Witcher. What if the pain carries on as nights go by? Give her the rumpy pumpy since that is always the answer to why an animal is in heat. It wants coitus, or if you've become one soft, romantic witcher; then I suggest to use the word, 'make love'." he emphasized, quoting the word 'make love' with both hands, his middle finger and index one folding as he said the last word with ardor.

Geralt was quick to scowl at that, exhaling an exasperated breath out of his nose as he hummed in protest; giving the bard his meanest glare, "You're saying she's an animal. You want me to take advantage of it?"

"No?" Jaskier quickly shook his head, groaning out; palms faintly hitting his forehead as he tried to act as if he was slapping it from Geralt's unreasonable assumptions. He continued, languidly blinking back at the frowning witcher, "---I didn't even say you would take advantage of the idea, you nincompoop! Then, do you want me to mate with her?"

It took him a second before he'd seen the latter started giving blazing daggers that had fire in it, his words seething as Geralt gruffly barked, "Absolutely not, bard!"

His glowing, amber eyes were boring holes at Jaskier before he lowly rumbled; more so to himself, trying to convince himself that there was another way.

He was dithering the idea of having you; not because he didn't find you pleasant, fetching, alluring or beautiful. Geralt found you in many types of wonderful adjectives he could tell, though mostly was kept inside his mind. The idea of having you, only to himself; ravishing you in ways that he ought to please kept him faltering because of one thing in his mind.

Vulnerability.

The witcher was thoroughly cautious of vulnerability because whenever it happens; once the walls have been broken down, there was always hindrance coming in his way and with the person he'd promised were important, or a person he loved because he knew that once he has you, Geralt was done for no matter how unstable he was.

You'll be seeing things you've never seen nor felt from him as he does the same way.

Especially, that you never came from their dimension and that the feelings he had for you was too strong to even control. But, the voices at the back of his mind was pulling him away from even pouring those emotions down because firstly, he didn't know how to show and second, there was a huge chance that you would also leave.

What if you leave? a person he'd treasured so much begins to leave him again?

Geralt mindlessly gritted his teeth together as he grumbled and grouched, avoiding the bard's eyes as he watched you shakily grab onto his palms that tenderly rested on the side of your face; leaning onto his touch as you looked at him; utterly lovestruck, "We'll find another way," pause. "---There has to be."

Though, it seems like the bard hasn't heard his beseeching and continued with his witful suggestions, "The only way is to impale her to cease the sufferings that the spell has cast upon her by the Djinn," Jaskier promptly stood up on his feet, his anxiety making him blurt out mindless blabbers he could ever think of, "---There is nothing to lose on this one, Geralt. Especially that you're...no offense---"

Geralt cut him off in haste, surly spitting out his words, "There is, Jaskier. Her purity."

Jaskier pointed back at the witcher, completely looking taken aback as he opened his mouth like he was stunned, "Oh." was the only thing he managed to say for the first few seconds before he quietly muttered, "OooooOh. She's a?"

The Ivory haired man gave a brief nod, "Untouched." he frankly informed as Cirilla quietly listened in the background with Kolby howling loudly in the middle of the night like a wolf in disguise, "---Oh! This is an unorthodox for the series of women that you have had, Geralt! Also, she's a rare one indeed!"

Jaskier couldn't help but feel dumbstruck from his suggestions, shamefully scratching the back of his nape as he has given the whole responsibility to Geralt because he could never help. He always never does because of some sorts that he couldn't explain, probably because he wasn't taught with these magical phenomena that Geralt expertly knows.

When the witcher has given you his attention, you've abruptly attacked him in a bear hug, arms tightly wrapped around his thick neck that you wanted to softly pepper kisses. As you were caging him in your arms, his delicious scent wafted through your nose, welcoming how it was indeed mouthwatering for your blazing appetite or carnal greed.

"I want to have you, Geralt. I--I need to have you! These thoughts inside my head...It needs you, I--I need you," you begged, softly pleading like there wasn't anyone around you; not noticing Cirilla, Kolby nor Jaskier as there was only one person in your mind. Geralt of Rivia. Your Geralt. Your witcher. The only person who gives you fluttering butterflies and wild ants inside your stomach and chest.

You've tucked your face in between your arm and his braided hair, breathing the back of his ear like a wild woman as Geralt stood still and heard your whimpers that went straight to his stronghold, his will in finding another method to help suddenly wavering from how soft and provocative it sounded that clouded his mind.

He turned relaxed in your arms, accepting the bear hug and probably loving how close you both were together after hours of not talking to each other. You've felt his calloused palm caress your clothed back, soothing your pained mewls that came after your sensual whimpers as it was unstable. Geralt gently unlatched your arms that surrounds him, his golden peepers meeting your baffled ones before he had no problem in scooping you up in his arms, like newly wed couples.

"We'll think of other ways, midget. Come. Let's help you with the heat,"

Cliffhanger before the smut? I’M SORRY, BB’S. LOVE MEEEE STILLLLLL!

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

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Steve//i can see a better time, when all our dreams come true

hey! last part! i just want to say thank you to everyone who’s read, liked, reblogged and supported this series! you all mean the absolute world to me. i know this is gonna sound cringey or whatever, but this series is more than just that. i was originally supposed to write and post this last christmas. but something that i can’t really remember stopped me and i was so disappointed in myself. then this hell hole of a year happened and i had a major mental health crisis (something i am still recovering from) meaning i couldn’t do anything but watch the same three tv shows and scroll through instagram for about 3 months, as well as a bunch of other awful things. i thought it would be a miracle to just start writing requests again, but then when i was going through a notebook, i found this idea and remembered how much i loved it and how upset i was that i hadn’t done it. so i thought i’d try and do it, and after many, many days and nights of me stressing about the littlest things and driving my girlfriend absolutely insane by only talking about this (sorry, i love you!), i’d done it! and i am so proud of myself! i know its not the biggest achievement of the year, but it’s mine. so again thank you to not only everyone whose read this series, but also thank you to everyone who has read and supported everything i’ve done this year. i really do hope that next year is a better one for all of you! happy new year my loves!

They say that time moves in different ways depending on the situation.

For example, the day you spent hours driving to the beach with Steve and Robin felt like it was over in five minutes. But the time stuck under ground in a really crappy elevator with them felt more like a week.

From the time it takes Steve to take his bandana and goggles off and to walk the three steps to you, it feels like days and seconds all at once. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight to him and the two of you let out a breath you feel like you’ve been holding for the past week. Finally you feel like you can breathe again, and finally the weight on Steve’s chest shifts a little.

Your hair is matted, your clothes dirty and torn and there’s a cut on your cheek, blood slowly trickles down your cheek, staining your face and your t-shirt red. But you’re you, and you’re alive and you look like you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” You’re the first to speak, your words stumbling over each other. A chuckle mixed with a sob passes your lips as you hug him again, you hold him tighter than he’s ever been hugged before, it feels like his ribs are being crushed but he doesn’t care. He just presses a kiss against your forehead, and runs his fingers through your knotted hair.

Hot tears land on the top of your head but you don’t feel them, you’re too busy crying into his shirt and the two of you stand like that for a few minute, thankful and very overwhelmed that the other one is alive and well.

“I think I do.” He sobs and you let out a short laugh. “I love you so much Y/n. I am so fucking sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” You cup his cheeks. “I was overreacting and I shouldn’t have stormed off. It’s fine.” You say and press a quick kiss to his lips, they’re salty because of the tears but neither of you care. “I love you Steve.” You finish and he breathes deeply, his shoulders sagging and the only thing that keeps him from falling is you.

“I thought you were dead.” He cries.

“Nah. You can’t get rid of me that easy.” You try, nudging his shoulder but he doesn’t smile.

“I thought I’d never see you again. I thought...I thought.”

“I’m fine.” You cut him off before he can finish his sentence. “Look. I’m good.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He teases and you stare at him offended.

“Rude. You do know that I almost died right?”

“You’re so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes and yours widen.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry who came all the way into an alternate dimension just to save me? Oh right. You.”

“I only did that because I had nothing better to do. You know after boxing day things got a bit boring.” He shrugs and you slap his shoulder.

“Asshole.” You mumble making him laugh. “How did you find me?”

“Do you really think I’d forget the place we first met?” He replies, sending you a look and you squint up at him, the light from his torch blinding you slightly. “Sorry.” He mumbles and quickly turns it off.

“I thought given the circumstances you would have at least tried.” You shrug, staring at the floor.

“Nah. Surprisingly it was the best day of my life.” He confesses and it surprises not only you but himself. That’s something he never thought he’d say.

He thought Halloween 1984 would be a day that always hurt to think about. And yeah, thinking about what Nancy said to him still stung, but then he remembers you.

You, in a costume he didn’t quite get. Your expression full of irritation that only softened when you saw him crying. You who asked what was wrong and stayed with him until he decided he wanted to go home. You who the next day found him to make sure he was okay.

“Will you marry me?” He asks and your eyes widen.

“What?” You splutter and he stares at you hopefully.

“I love you more than I have loved anything ever. You’re my favourite person ever, you make every day brighter. On days where I think I can’t do anything, when I think my dad is right about all the the shit he’s said and that little nagging voice in my head is shouting, you’re always there to tell me I’m wrong. You’ve helped me when I’ve been broken up with, beaten up and drugged. You fought a Russians for me and beaten up creatures from another dimension without even knowing what it was. I’ve never felt safer or happier with you by my side. I know I’m an idiot, but still...will you marry me?”

“Steve.” You gasp, tears roll down your cheeks mixing with the blood and goo. “Yes. Yes I will marry you.” You reply and he lets of a sigh of relief. “Although, you didn’t get on one knee, and I don’t see a ring.” You tease and he rolls his eyes.

His hands cup your cheeks delicately, he ducks his head down and presses a gentle kiss against your chapped and sore lips.

“Steve? Steve? Are you okay?” Robin’s voice crackles through the walkie-talkie and you jump apart, suddenly remembering where you are. A loud crash comes from just outside and you and Steve freeze and stare at each other.

Thunder booms so loud it rings in your ears for a few seconds after and Steve feels the weight come back, only this time its shared with you too.

“I’ve got her.” He says slowly and eyes the bathroom suspiciously. “If you’re not already at the portal, go now. We’re on our way back...over.” He says and you hear a collection of relived sighs.

“Yay! You said it!” Annie cheers and Steve rolls his eyes.

“What she means is we’re glad you’re both okay. Now get your ass back.” Robin adds and you and Steve don’t need to be told twice. Steve grabs the bat he dropped on the floor and reaches for your hand. He starts to pull you but is instantly stopped when he hears your cry in pain.

“What? What’s wrong?” He’s in front of you instantly, looking you up and down for any injuries, and then his eyes land on your leg, and you watch him pale.

“Stupid ugly thing got me.” You mumble and glance down at it, you cringe at the sight of the now brown blood, and inflamed scratches. Yeah, there is no way you’re going to be able to get that stain out.

“Can you walk.” He asks and looks around for anything to help.

“I’ll be fine Steve. I just need to get used to it.” You reply.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Come on. I don’t want to be in Tina’s bathroom anymore than I already have been.”

“Same.” He huffs and wraps his bandana around you.

“What about you?” You ask while he puts the goggles on you.

“I’ll be fine.” He waves you off. “It’s only a bit of dust.” He smirks and you roll your eyes. “Now come on.” He says quicker and wraps an arm around you. The two of you hobble towards the front door, tripping on a few vines and branches.

Steve helps you balance against the wall and the front door creaks as he pulls it open.

“Okay.” He nods and looks back at you. “Nothing is waiting to kill us so I think we’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.” You smirk and he rolls his eyes at you while helping you walk again.

As soon as your outside, the door slams closed making the two of you jump. Wind rushes around the two of you and brown and black works its way into the cracks of the sky. Buildings tumble down around you, almost as if an invisible force is stomping on each of them. You and Steve share a look as the chaos seems to get closer and closer to you.

“Shall we go then?” Steve asks, his eyes wide with fear and you quickly nod.

“Yep.” You reply. “I hate parties anyway.” You say and a small smile twitches on your lips. Steve returns it and the two of you make your way down the steps and onto the street.

Thankfully, Tina doesn’t live that far from you. In the past that was something you hated because it meant you couldn’t get out of parties, this time however, you’re very grateful for the closeness of your homes.

In an ideal world, it means you’ll be able to get back to the right and semi-safe world in less than twenty minutes. However, if the past seven years have taught you and Steve anything, it’s that you don’t live in an ideal world. You live in the opposite in fact.

Like you said, the habitants of The Upside Down, don’t care much for cleaning, and it’s only made worse now that the entire things seems to be collapsing around you. Either it’s doing it on purpose so none of you can escape, or all of you just have some really bad timing.

“So this whole place is dying?” You ask and look around. It certainly looks like it’s dying. It has done since you woke up and its only gotten worse. You also thought it was strange that you hadn’t been eaten by now.

“Yep.” He replies. “Apparently all those times we thought we’d won but hadn’t. Did actually do something. It just took a while for it to feel the affect.”

“And I’m in here because?”

“Annie said that whatever dragged you in, was probably looking for anything to eat.” He replies and you think about it for a few seconds.

“So why didn’t it eat me?”

“How the hell am I suppose to know.” He says. “Do I look like the scientist here?”

“Furthest from actually.”

“Exactly.” He smiles.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We get out as quickly as we can.”

“The more detailed plan?” You roll your eyes.

“Dustin and Lucas got a bunch of explosives and fireworks. We’ve dumped them in here and as soon as we get out, El and Will’s going to explode them!” He says proudly and you look at him impressed.

“Wo-Watch out!”

You and Steve narrowly miss being hit by a falling tree, only to trip over some sort of decaying monster.

“Gross.” You huff and look down at your hands, now covered in blood and guts. “Are you okay Steve?” You ask while trying to stand back up.

“No.” He mumbles and you frown as you turn around to face him. He’s hunched over in the middle of the road, dry heaving and your eyebrows furrow as you watch him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, however instead of answering you’re just met with a groan. “Steve? We haven’t got all day.”

“It went in my mouth!” He exclaims and turns around, throwing his hands up in the air. “That things guts were in my mouth. I can taste blood. Oh god. I’m gonna die. Or turn into one of those. Y/n, if I turn into anything like that please just kill me. You have my permission to take a baseball bat to my head...just please, bury me somewhere nice.” He rambles making you snort a laugh. “It’s not funny Y/n.”

“It kind of is.” You reply and he glares at you.

“It’s not.” He mutters and slowly walks towards you. However he freezes when he notices your eyes widening. “What?” He asks. “Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t move.” You whisper and he feels his blood run cold.

“What?” He squeaks and watches you slowly limp and pick up the bat lying on the floor.

“Oh god. It’s happening isn’t. I love you Y/n. Tell Robin it was me that broke her Walkman. I told her it was Dustin, but it was me.” He closes his eyes, expecting the worst.

Something scratches at his legs and he breathes in, this is it. He’s going to die, so are you and everything is going to be for nothing. He wants to reach out for you, to hold you close and then at least you’ll be together, but he can’t he’s frozen.

And then he hears a thud, a small whine and your heavy breathing. Slowly he opens one eye, expecting to see some sort of toothy monster staring back at him. But instead he’s met with the back of your head. He watches you drop the bat, the noise echoing into the darkness and slowly he looks down.

He’s not entirely sure what tried to kill him, it’s unrecognizable now that’s been beaten into the ground, but it looks scary anyway.

“It’s the same fucker that dragged me in here in the first place.” You look over your shoulder and wipe your forehead.

“I love you so much.” He stares at you in awe. “That was hot.”

“Shut up.” You huff but wink at him anyway. “Are you okay?” You ask and glance at his leg.

“Oh, yeah.” He shrugs and looks at the small scratch. “I’ll be fine. What about you?”

“I’ll live.” You shrug.

The two of you stumble around the corner and into the forest and you watch as your friends climb through the glowing doorway to the real world.

“Guys!” Steve shouts making everyone freeze. The kids have already gone through, leaving just Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Annie and Joyce behind. Tears form in your eyes as you stare at your friends.

“Hurry up!” Jonathan shouts.

“I’m trying! It’s a bit difficult though with my leg hanging off!” You shout back and watch as Jonathan pushes Nancy through the goo before running towards you.

“Jonathan!” Joyce shouts, her voice can barely be heard over the wind. It blows through your ears and makes you shiver. Trees move wildly around you and you watch as the sky starts to fall away.

“Well that can’t be good.” You gulp and walk a bit quicker. Jonathan stands on the other side of you, holding your waist and the three of you stumble towards the portal.

They let go of you and push you through, you land on the forest floor with a loud thud and small groan escapes your lips.

“Y/n!” The group shout and everyone moves to help you stand. You’ve never been so happy to see everyone. Robin and Annie pull Jonathan, Steve and Joyce through. And as soon as Joyce is stood up, El and Will press the detonators. There’s a loud bang that makes you all jump back, and you watch as the portal vanishes, leaving the brown of the tree trunk behind.

“Is everyone here?” Joyce asks and scans the group.

“It’s a bit late if they’re not.” Robin replies. “But yes...I think we did it. We actually did it! Yes!!” She cheers and jumps up and down. Everyone shares a look before looking back at her and even Annie looks a little concerned.

“I can’t believe you all came for me.” You pull the goggles and fabric off of your face, and tears roll down your cheeks.

“Of course we did.” Dustin hugs you.

“You didn’t think we’d leave you in there did you?” Nancy asks also wrapping you up into a tight hug. The res of the group follow and soon you’re in the middle of an eleven people hug...not that you’re complaining though.

“Jesus Christ. How long were we in there?” Steve asks and looks at the now dark sky.

“Who the fuck cares. Let’s go home.”

Fireworks crackle and explode above your head. The sky lights up with red and oranges, leading the way home for the 12 of you.

The residents hope that the bright lights will keep the darkness at bay, but from now on, they won’t have to.

“Happy New Year love.”

“Happy New Year Steve.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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