#very fond that he ends up here again and gets to peacefully??? build his home without it getting destroyed

[renzypretzy]

scar lored then i got possessed

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Belonging

Mammon x gn!MC

Words - 4606

Content warnings - lots of angst, insecure MC, Mammon is an ass at first ‘cause he’s a tsundere

Prompt/inspiration - self indulgent comfort piece

Summary - That one time when Mammon’s tsundere tendencies broke your heart.

AO3

You had been so stupid. So foolish. So naive.

When you first met Mammon, he took your breath away. You had never seen someone just so...beautiful. It was an honest to goodness love at first sight moment, something that you didn’t even believe possible until then. Yeah he seemed a little harsh, but you convinced yourself it was just because he was shy and easily embarrassed. As soon as he got to know you better, you were sure he’d calm down a bit and open up to you.

It was slow going though. Just when you had started thinking you had finally managed to become friends with him, something would happen that would send you back to square one again. For every step forward you took, you would inevitably take 3 steps back.

But after a while, things did eventually seem to be going your way. He’d come over for movie nights. You were allowed to hang out in his room. He no longer stuttered out excuses when he would walk you to and from RAD. You had started to feel comfortable. Like maybe everything in your shitty life up until now might have actually been worth it because finally, FINALLY you had someone who genuinely enjoyed being around you.

Until today, that is, when you were not-so-gently reminded of your place.

The night began like any other Friday evening - a movie night with Mammon, Beel, and Levi. Everyone had gathered in Mammon’s room, snacks were plentiful, and you were getting to sit next to Mammon. As the movie progressed, you casually adjusted your position so that you could hold his hand. But as soon as your palm touched his and he realized what you were doing, he pulled back and yelled at you.

“What the hell are ya doing?!”

If it wasn’t for the look on his face, you would have sworn he was embarrassed. Instead, there was no doubt in your mind just how disgusted he was at the idea of you touching him. You didn’t notice when the movie was paused. Or when the lights were turned on. All you could see were his eyes boring into yours. Looking like he wanted to vomit on the spot at the very idea of having ever been close to you.

“Umm...I...just…” you stumbled over your words, unsure what to say. What could you even say? He knew you had tried to hold his hand. And that’s all there was to it. You made a move, the wrong one, and he rejected you.

“Sorry...I’ll umm...just go…” was all you managed to finally get out, as you made a mad dash to your room. Your cheeks were burning with shame, and tears pricking at your eyes.

How could you have been so arrogant? Thinking someone could actually be interested in a person like you. This wasn’t your home. These weren’t your friends. They weren’t your family. You didn’t belong here. You didn’t belong anywhere. You had let yourself get comfortable, indulging your delusions and fantasies and ignoring all the many warning signs that you weren’t actually wanted here.

Even though Mammon was your official Guardian, the rest of the brothers still did their part to make sure you survived your year in one piece. And you had mistaken this courtesy as actual kindness. If anyone had been nice to you, it was out of obligation or pity. You were so desperate to believe you had finally found a place of your own that you let yourself be tricked into thinking demons would actually care about you.

You should have known better. It’s not like you hadn’t had this experience before. People who tolerated you and then at the first available opportunity cut you from their lives. You knew there was something wrong with you, there had to be, for as many times as this had happened. But since no one stuck around very long at all, you honestly had no idea what that might be. If someone would have just told you, you would have fixed it.

By the time you had made it to the safety of your room, your tears had already started to fall in large, heavy drops. You didn’t make a sound. You were too numb to even sob. You just laid down on your bed, facing the wall, and cried. If you could even call it crying. It was more like tears just poured from your eyes. You didn’t even know it was possible to cry that many tears, yet here you were - soaking your pillow, unable to stop the flow.

At some point, you had managed to get your breathing under control. And then, even your tears dried up. You turned to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out where you should go from here. You still had to make it through the rest of the year, and you had to find some way of doing that peacefully. Maybe if you talked to Lucifer he would assign you a different Guardian? You didn’t really want a different Guardian though, but you doubted you would be able to emotionally handle spending any more time with Mammon. Especially since every time you closed your eyes you could still see that look on his face.

After weighing your options you decided the only thing for you to do really was to put on a happy face. You’d be polite to anyone that talked to you, but you were going to be smart this time. You were going to keep your distance. Not just from Mammon, but from everyone else too.

There was no point in giving yourself the chance to believe you actually could make any friends here. Doubtless it would end up the same way. So you were going to do the minimum - go to RAD, come back to your room, and stay in your room until it was time to leave for RAD again, only leaving with the exception of meal times. No more movie nights, or gaming tournaments, or shopping trips, or restaurant tours. You were just going to keep to yourself and...survive.

————

Breakfast the following morning was oddly quiet. Beel, Mammon, and Levi kept exchanging looks, but you pretended you didn’t notice and just focused on your meal. You had found a comfortable sense of numbness since the previous night, and had now more or less come to terms with the fact you weren’t wanted here and had gotten carried away.

Lucifer had needed to head out a bit earlier to attend a before school meeting with Lord Diavolo, so you asked if you could walk with him instead. He raised an eyebrow at your unexpected request, but thankfully didn’t ask any additional questions. Of all the brothers he was actually the one you were most comfortable with at the moment. Probably because you never had any doubts about the fact he wasn’t overly fond of you.

When classes had ended for the day, you realized that you would need to walk home with Mammon. But after a full day of perfecting your “nice” smile, and mastering how to behave “politely” without taking things personally, you felt better prepared to handle it than you had that morning. Mammon seemed nervous, blushing and fidgeting most of the way. Any other day, you would have asked him what was wrong, but now you were committed to keeping your distance so you ignored him.

Once you arrived back at the House of Lamentation, however, he finally started talking to you before you had a chance to hide away in your room again.

“Uhh...about last night...I…”

“It’s fine, Mammon,” you said, smiling your best, bright smile, “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“That’s...I was jus’ surprised is all…”

“Then I’m sorry for surprising you.”

“So umm...do you wanna...try again...maybe…?”

For the briefest moment, your smile faltered. You were quick to correct it, but of course Mammon noticed that split second of hesitation before you answered.

“No thank you. It was nice of you to offer though. But I don’t think I’ll be going to movie night anymore, so you really don’t have to worry about me.”

“Huh? That’s not what I was...this wasn’t about the movie…!”

You gave Mammon another perfect, reassuring smile before leaving him in the entryway, flustered beyond belief at what just happened. He could understand that you might not have known what he was asking right away, but to say you didn’t want to go to movie night at all? That seemed like a bit of an overreaction. Not to mention the fact that the entire conversation just seemed...weird. You were smiling too much for one thing, and he really didn’t like it. He enjoyed making you smile, but this just wasn’t right.

And he couldn’t just let that go.

No sooner had you sat down at the table in your room to begin on your assignments, than the door was flung open as Mammon barged in. You stared at him, stunned, unable to grasp why he had followed you to your room. When he saw you looking at him, he once again got flustered, but was quick to recover this time - he was on a mission.

“Look I know I yelled at ya and all, but that ain’t a reason to skip movie night. Who's gonna feed Beel? Or make sure Levi doesn’t put on those weird anime movies with the tentacles and shit?”

“I’m sure you’ll manage. You had to have worked things out somehow before I arrived. You don’t need to try to include me,” you replied, turning your back to Mammon so you could focus on your work.

“Movie night was your idea! Ya can’t just quit!”

“I said it’s fine,” you could feel your frustration building in your chest. You had wanted to do this peacefully, but Mammon was so stubborn, more stubborn than you had anticipated given his reaction to you yesterday.

“It ain’t fine!”

“Leave it alone, Mammon,” you snapped, stopping what you were doing as you tried to calm yourself down again. You weren’t going to let him get to you. He’d wear himself out and lose interest eventually. You just needed to be patient until he realized he didn’t have to entertain you anymore.

“How can I leave it alone? I’ve said worse stuff to ya before and you haven’t acted like this.”

“I know when I’m not wanted. It’s fine.”

You weren’t about to open up and confide in him all your worries and fears. Even if he was asking out of politeness, you knew he wouldn’t really want to hear about that stuff anyways. He barely tolerated your physical presence, there wasn’t any way he’d want to be burdened with your emotional baggage too.

Mammon was silent for a while after that. He didn’t know what to say, or how to explain. He knew he had fucked up. Badly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you next to him. He did. More than he’d care to admit. Which was actually part of the problem. He didn’t want to admit he cared. Because admitting he cared would mean you could reject him. If you weren’t aware of his feelings, then you would just be stuck with him, and that was good enough for him. It had to be.

At least it had been up until now. Now, Mammon feared if he didn’t say something, anything, he’d lose any chance at ever talking to you again.

“...I wanted ya there…” he finally whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah I do!” he said, much louder than he had spoken before. Couldn’t you tell he was trying to say that he liked you? That he enjoyed your company? Did you really have to argue with him about it?

“...whatever,” you said with a sigh as you began to open your school books.

“Hey! Listen to me will ya!? I’m trying to say I like you!”

You flinched at Mammon’s sudden declaration.

“And you expect me to believe that?” you replied, your tone laced with venom. You knew what was coming next - his inevitable backpedaling that he always did. Where he made excuses and belittled you and made sure to crush any hope you may have had that he actually liked you in any capacity because the idea of anyone thinking he actually had a soft spot for you was apparently absolutely appalling.

“Why wouldn’t you?! You should feel honored and…!”

“Why wouldn’t I?? Seriously?? You’re asking me that?”

You turned in your seat to glare at Mammon, angry tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Did he seriously think so little of you that he just expected you to believe whatever you told him?

“I dunno Mammon, maybe it’s because ever since I got here you made a point to remind me what a burden I am and how much trouble I cause. Maybe it’s because you constantly dump me on your brothers to avoid your responsibilities. Maybe it’s because every time I try to be nice to you, you push me away and make me feel stupid for even trying. But hey, what do I know? I’m just the dumb human, right?”

By now your tears had started to fall, but you couldn’t even be bothered to dry them. You finally had the chance to get everything off your chest that had been building since you were dragged down to the Devildom and you didn’t feel like stopping anytime soon. Your rational thoughts had long since flown, and all that was left was your extremely hurt, angry, emotional self that was bound and determined to make sure Mammon knew just how much pain he had caused you.

Mammon, for his part, was completely dumbfounded. Personally, he thought he had been doing alright trying to get to know you. He wasn’t used to people actually being nice to him for one thing, so he was always so suspicious whenever you were.

But what he hadn’t realized though, was how genuine all your advances had been, and how much he had hurt you in trying to protect himself.

“I-I-I…”

“I’m not the sort of person anyone likes. I know that. So whatever joke it is you’re trying to pull, just stop it already!”

“I ain’t messin’ around!”

“What are you not understanding here??” you yelled, slamming your hands down on your desk as you stood up to face Mammon, “I don’t connect with people. I’m never the one that gets picked. So just stop it ok?! I don’t know what Lucifer threatened you with…”

“He didn’t threaten me with anything!”

“Oh please, like you actually want to spend any time with me.”

“Of course I do! That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell ya!”

“...you don’t mean that. No one ever means that.” You crossed your arms, hugging yourself tightly, averting your gaze. Your anger had started to fade and all that was left was an overwhelming sense of sadness.

“Why do ya keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true. It’s just what happens. Whatever it is that lets people make friends, I don’t have it. I always think I do, but it never works out. So why would this time be any different? I just...I can’t do this again.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I love you!” you shouted, having finally reached the end of your patience with Mammon’s endless questions. This wasn’t how you had wanted to tell him. But you didn’t know what else to say at this point because nothing else seemed to be getting through to him.

Cautiously, Mammon took a step forward. Then another. Until he was standing right in front of you. You kept your eyes trained on the ground, refusing to look up. You didn’t want to see the look on his face. Not after you had just confessed to him. It had been bad enough when he yelled at you for holding his hand, and you were sure seeing him now would kill you.

But, Mammon didn’t force the issue. Instead, he slowly reached out for your hands, carefully twining your fingers together as he lowered his head to rest it against yours.

“...do ya mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you mumbled, “But it doesn’t matter. It never matters. I’m not good at this stuff.” You rubbed your fingers over Mammon’s hands, playing with his rings as you tried to distract yourself from the conversation you were having. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were so nervous you couldn’t stand it. It almost didn’t seem real to you, to have him standing so close to you, willingly touching you. Perhaps that’s why you weren’t shying away from being honest about your feelings and why you were letting yourself touch him like you were. If it was all only a dream, it didn’t matter anyways.

“It matters to me...I like ya too. A whole lot. And...I’m sorry for makin’ ya feel anything different. It’s just…” Mammon hesitated. This was the most honest he had been with another being in centuries, and his instincts to pull away and run were still strong. But you had been honest with him, and after all the hurt he caused you, it was probably the absolute least he could do.

“It’s just...I know how it feels. Ta not be wanted. And I uh...didn’t trust ya at first. I thought...you would be like my brothers and were just mocking me…”

That last sentence made your heart ache and you lifted your head slowly to look at Mammon. His eyes were closed now, but you could see the tears gathering at the corners and the dampness of his lashes. It was clear to you then that these were his true feelings, and not something he was sharing easily. Without a word, you released his hands, slipping your arms around his waist to pull him into a hug. He flinched at the sudden contact, but didn’t waste any time returning the gesture, wrapping his arms around you and hiding his face in your shoulder.

“I’d never do that,” you replied.

“Well yeah, I know that now.”

“I think you’re amazing, you know? I always have fun with you. And I like spending time with you. When you’re not acting like I’m the plague,” you teased, turning your head slightly to catch a glimpse of Mammon’s face and the faintest hint of a smile that tugged at his lips.

“S’rry. I think yer pretty amazing too. You put up with me an’ my brothers for starters.”

You laughed softly at his reply, feeling his arms tighten around you as he hugged you closer.

“Do you umm...wanna watch a movie…?” Mammon asked, hopeful that you’d take him up on the offer so he’d have a good reason for staying with you a little longer.

“Yeah, we can do that. I didn’t get to finish the movie from the other night.”

You pulled away from Mammon to grab your laptop from beside your bed, before climbing into it and making yourself comfortable. When you looked up, Mammon was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor, blushing furiously.

“Oh. Do you not want to sit here? Sorry! We can…” you started to ramble, terrified you had made him uncomfortable again and already messed up everything that you had just seemed to fix.

“No! It’s uh...not that...umm…” Mammon said, moving to sit on the edge of your bed, “Do you umm...wanna try...ya know...holding hands…?”

You blinked a few times as you processed Mammon’s request, staring at his outstretched hand that he was offering to you. Was this what he had been trying to ask you about after school…?

“I mean! It’s fine if ya don’t want to!”

“Wait!” you grabbed his hand quickly, before he had the opportunity to pull it back, “I’d like that. A lot,” you said, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, “Can I ask you something?” Mammon nodded as he scooted back onto the bed so that he could sit next to you, “Is this umm, what you were trying to ask me about earlier? When we first got back?”

“Yeah,” now sitting comfortably beside you, he adjusted his grip on your hand, lacing your fingers together and allowing you to snuggle up next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. He was nervous at having you so close, but at the same time, he didn’t think he had ever felt more relaxed. There was a certain comfort in knowing that you felt the same way towards him and weren’t going to chase him off for wanting to be near you. He still had a long way to go in the “open and honest” department, but at least with you he didn’t have to hide his feelings any longer.

As the movie played, Mammon found himself struggling to concentrate. You had said a lot of things earlier when you had been so upset that he hadn’t been sure what you meant, or how he was supposed to respond. One thought in particular kept echoing in his mind that he really felt like he needed to address - that you didn’t feel wanted.

“Hey, do you umm, think we could talk?” he finally asked. You paused the movie and closed your laptop, nervous to hear what he had to say.

“Sure,” you replied meekly and Mammon gave your hand what he hoped would be a reassuring squeeze.

“I guess I just want to make sure you know that I want ya around. I know I can be a bit of an idiot at times and don’t always think things through...but that’s how I feel. And I know my brothers feel the same too.”

“Thank you. For telling me.” You could feel your throat tightening and you knew you were probably close to tears again, as if you hadn’t already cried enough today.

“And I’m gonna prove it to ya, you know? The Great Mammon’s gonna show ya just how special you are.”

A small smile spread across your face as you snuggled closer to Mammon. He nudged you gently with his elbow, which only made your smile broaden, and you nudged him in return, causing him to laugh. It didn’t take long for a full on tickle fight to erupt, which only stopped when Mammon had managed to successfully pin you to the mattress. Realizing the position he was in made Mammon’s face flush, but he didn’t move, and you simply looped your arms around his neck holding him in place with a hug. He carefully lowered his body so he could wrap you up in a hug of his own, as you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

You had been so certain earlier that you’d never get a chance to have a moment like this with him. And part of you feared if you were to let him go, he’d leave for good. But no matter how tightly you held him, Mammon held you just as tight. He too had been waiting for this for a long time and wasn’t about to let you go any sooner than necessary.

—————

The following morning, Mammon was already gone by the time you woke up. The realization stung, but you tried to focus on the positives and pushed those thoughts aside, determined not to let yourself jump to the worst case scenario before you had even eaten your breakfast. You quickly got yourself ready, and made your way downstairs, taking your usual seat at the table. Mammon had yet to make an appearance, so you focused on your food, anxiously waiting for him to join you.

When you heard the dining room doors open, you quickly snapped your head up, smiling as Mammon made his way into the room. He locked eyes with you, grinning, but as soon as he noticed that his brothers were also watching him, he averted his gaze and your heart shattered.

Of course, you thought, how could you have forgotten? Just because he admitted to liking you in private didn’t actually mean he would treat you any differently. The thought made your stomach churn, and you had to fight the urge to dash from the room, choosing instead to return your attention to the food on your plate. This was going to be so much worse now that you knew he was aware of your feelings, you thought, blinking back tears.

Shit.

Mammon had reflexively looked away from you for the briefest of moments when he had become aware of his brothers staring. But almost immediately he had stopped himself and looked back at you to offer you a smile. It hadn’t been quick enough though, and he only caught sight of your face as it fell and you attempted to hide your disappointment. He really hadn’t meant to hurt you. Especially not so soon after the two of you had finally opened up to each other.

And now what was he supposed to do?

Well, there really was only one thing he could think of - Make ‘em jealous.

Taking a deep breath, Mammon walked to his seat, nudging his chair over until it was right next to yours, before finally sitting down. You looked up at him, stunned and confused, and he flashed you his usual cocky grin, which only made your heart leap in your throat. Just what was going on? you wondered.

“Ooo Mammon, you’re sitting awfully close today,” Asmodeus teased.

“What’s it to ya, Asmo? Ya jealous?” Mammon, quipped back as he started serving himself some breakfast. He could feel you staring as you struggled to wrap your head around what was happening, and he smirked, shooting you a sideways glance.

“It’s just not fair that you keep hogging them all to yourself. The rest of us should get a chance to sit next to them too.”

“Enough. It’s too early in the morning for this sort of nonsense,” said Lucifer, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know, dear brother, you’re going to get horrible wrinkles if you don’t get more rest,” replied Asmo, shifting his attention to Lucifer.

Mammon turned to look at you, not at all surprised to see that you were still staring at him in shock. He looked down at your lap, and you followed his gaze as he opened his right hand, palm up, and offered it to you. You stared at it for a few moments, before finally sliding your hand into his. You looked up at him again, only to find that his cheeks were now a very deep shade of red, one that spread all the way to the tips of his ears. He was clearly not prepared for how...different...it was going to feel to hold your hand when surrounded by his brothers, and you couldn’t help but smile at him.

He was quick to turn his attention to his breakfast, and you did the same, occasionally sneaking glances at Mammon as you ate. Mammon could feel your eyes on him, and while mildly embarrassing, also made him ridiculously happy. Up until yesterday he had been so afraid of making a move in your direction, he hadn’t even stopped to think of the possibility of you actually accepting him. And now that he was holding your hand, he was determined to never let it go.

[80s4life]

Until We Meet Again”

Word Count: 1,353

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: This is completely off from the movie, like, it has nothing to do with the story line. It was just a little something when I got in my feels. I might make a part 2 depending on the hype and whether or not this was actually like lol.

Fandom: The Expendables 2010-2014

Relationship: Tool x Reader

Summary: When the reader has an unexpected turn of events, they realize all the things they’ve never done, and some of the things they should’ve done. Will they make it out or will they never get the chance?

Warnings: angst, regrets, blood, assumed death, Reader is shot, blood loss, violence mentioned, language, VERY SAD (I warned you)

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary ( @one-boring-person​ cuz u love expendables)

Masterlist Expendables Masterlist

{gif is not mine, credits to @hellofagirl​}

People say that, when death happens, your life flashes before your eyes, giving you a slideshow of all the good, the bad, and the downright dirty. Usually, when this happens, regrets and prideful moments occur, making you either want to keep time the way it is or change it in some way, making you burn inside. It is also common for you to die peacefully, surrounded by the ones you love, whether it be of old age or other natural causes. All the people you want, there and supporting you throughout your final hurrah.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case for you, you were not one of those people to die of natural causes or simply old age. You weren’t even surrounded by any of the people you loved. You were just a nobody, someone that was used at other people’s expense, used to kill and terminate any threats and rescue what’s stolen or held unlawfully. 

Hence your group’s name, The Expendables. Highly trained mercenaries, veterans, and weapons experts used to do as you do best.

You were on a mission with them when your worst nightmare occurred, it being thoughtfully planned and kinks worked out days prior, giving you preparation as multiple other missions had time and time again. Just like any of the jobs you took with the team.

The objective was to take down a newly popular mafia, not unusual to you, the mafia not being too strong or big of a family just yet. However, when finally on the battlefield, you, along with the rest of the team; Barney Ross, Lee Christmas, Hale Caesar, Gunnar Jensen, Toll Road, and Yin Yang, had noticed just how wrong the mission truly was.

It was a set-up, one put in place by your highly unidentified employers, sent to tear your one-of-a-kind, intelligent family apart from what it was. You weren’t very fond to your past enemies, taking them out, ruining their plans, and destroying what could’ve been years of work to put together. This had led to many menacing opponents.

Barney, your leader, had sprung to action quickly, splitting us off and protecting us, being the amazing leader he was. Something you never got to fully acknowledge at times, sometimes being so pissed, you didn’t care if you had threatened his superiority or level of expertise. Hurting his feelings immensely.

The mission had gone fairly well for a while, working hand-in-hand with one another, tag-teaming with your brothers at separate times, given your unexpected predicament and disadvantage.

This was until you had managed to unknowingly cut yourself far from the group of mercenaries, having to run from a silent assailant wielding knives. Running underneath an archway, scared and exhausted, you felt your legs, abdomen, and lungs burn as the only missions in mind now were to get to safety and come home to the one you love undeterred. 

Only time would tell if these were going to be successfully accomplished.

You duck and weave through crates and buildings, running through a small town, but quickly run out of options as you draw yourself into a massive clearing. You scream over the comms, turning your mic on, asking for help, anyone, anything.

But they were too far away, rushing as fast as they could, wanting none other than to be at your side, fighting off anything that were to threaten you. You were their sister, whether it be blood or in arms, you were family and connected as one.

You spin on your heels, looking for a way out, but find nothing. Nothing to protect you or hide away in.  Nothing to just get you out. Accepting your fate, you decide this is it, facing your pursuer now, hands above your head in an attempt of surrender. The surrender goes unanswered though, unaccepted, your attacker pulling a gun from his waist band, shooting you square in the chest, not giving you a chance. 

Walking now, the killer comes to your side, body encased in a pool of blood, seeping into your clothing. Deciding his job is done, he lowers his gun, looking you in the eyes before disappearing into the distance, concluding that a slow death was the best revenge. 

All you do is lay there, unmoving, your mic still on and blaring with the voices of your team, concern and anger lacing their tones. You do not answer however, motivating Yin Yang to track your location from his keypad, Caesar and Toll deciding that bullets weren’t enough anymore, throwing grenades and bombs instead, killing the multiples. Barney, Lee, and Gunnar finishing the last of the survivors off, the full team hurrying to get to you from all different directions.

Gunnar is the first to find you, pumping his long legs harder now as he fears the worst, knowing this situation is a close two-end street, your chances slimming by the minute. Lee and Barney file in a moment later, followed by Toll, Yin Yang, and soon, Caesar. 

All you can do is stare, lovingly, regrettably, and solemnly all at once, knowing there is so much to say but not enough time to do so. So you told them, as quickly as physically possible, the blood now rushing into your lungs and mouth. You told them what you loved most, what you had regretted saying or doing, knowing the full effect of the past now.

And, when the pain gets to its worst factor, you turn to face Barney, him knowing you the most. “The pink book,” you choke out, Barney knowing exactly what you were referring to, “Give it to Tool for me, will ya’? There’s so much I haven’t told him, and just about everything should be in there.”

“Yeah,” Barney answers, his voice fading now, tears in his eyes, “Yeah, I’ll give it to him. I know what ya’ want, and I’ll send the message. You’ve always had a better way of speakin’ than me, and I think he’d like if you came back home in one piece, Kid. Just focus on stayin’ awake for me for now though, okay?” The last of his sentence comes out choked, tears now pouring from his eyes. Tears pooling from all of the men now, knowing that your fate is nearing its end.

“I love you guys...Always know that okay? Keep it with ya’,” I say, my body now feeling immensely lighter than any high could’ve.

“Yer not dyin’ on us Y/N...Ya’ can’t!” Gunnar yells, his emotional defense kicking in as his way of coping. “Yer supposed to be here always-”

All you can do is watch, tears of your own flowing in waves down the corners of yours eyes, rounding my eye cheek bones, slipping down towards my ears, and falling in delicate puddles. They’re all falling apart, and there’s nothing anyone can do to help it. Instead, you weakly motion your hands, grabbing one of Barney’s and Gunnar’s, the rest motioning to either hold onto one another or a limb of your body, such as your knees or legs.

As your vision starts to fade, and the familiar faces of your family dim and disappear, the last face you see is one that wasn’t there. One who will never know what would’ve happened until the group returns home, your body being held within their own arms. Tool. The most talented, artistic, and loving man of my dreams, will never know the full extent of your passion for him. And now, as darkness overcomes you, your last final regret lies on him, your last tears shedding from your eyes. Closing them, seeing the darkness, and feeling the last bit of your being being lifted, no longer seeing or feeling anything. Just black.

Whoever said death was a pleasant goodbye never really understood all of what leaves with the hollow body of a once joyful, full of life person. The regrets, stories, love, and connections staying remnant within them and never truly leaving even when they are no longer visible. For even as they part, the people who knew them now are haunted and reminded of a person no one will ever see again. Never have the beauty of knowing just like they had.

That is, until they part ways as well. 

Until then, it is just a bittersweet goodbye.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

in the wind

[mako x reader]

author’s note: i would like to thank fallin’ flower by svt for giving me inspo. this is totally different from the idea i had originally but i like this cuz it’s seasonally appropriate. just gonna tuck the other idea away for now and probably write it for bolin cuz it fits him more hehehe

word count: 5,068

Your side of the bed is empty when Mako wakes up this morning, but that comes as no surprise. Occasionally you’re up and out of the apartment before sunrise, the slightly sloppy arrangement of the blanket’s edge stuffed beneath your pillow lone evidence of having been there at all. Mako makes the bed properly now that he’s standing, and the finishing touch is the fluffy bunny toy he nearly steps on by accident. You must’ve knocked it off the bed and not noticed. With a small smile he picks it up and sets it between the pillows. He’d won that for you at the fair last year, the only prize he’d managed to get, and he’d complained with a huff about how the games are rigged and that’s why he was performing poorly but you just laughed and assured him you were perfectly happy with your bunny.

While he isn’t surprised to find you gone by the time he’s awake, especially because it’s been happening consistently all this week, what does surprise him is the harsh breeze that nips at his skin once he’s outside. He can’t help the scrunching of his nose and he considers turning around to grab his scarf, but decides against it. He had plans to show up to the department a little earlier today to catch up on paperwork. It would be fine. He’d be inside most of the day anyway.

Or, well, he expected to be. But he ends up being wrong. As luck would have it, Chief Beifong has him on the beat since the officer who would typically be patrolling the area is out sick. So he’s outside again, a sorry amount of progress made on the stack of folders on his desk, trying to fight back sniffles and hoping his nose isn’t as red as he thinks it is. A mother walks by with her son around whose neck she pulls a scarf, wrapped tight and tucked into place, a motion complimented by a light admonition to keep it on and not tug it off again, lest he get sick. And mostly to herself, as she straightens up, she speculates lowly where this sudden turn in the weather has come from. But Mako hears and lets out a light sigh, breath materializing in front of him, and wonders the same.

One consolation of being forced to deal with the brunt of the weather is that Mako’s patrol takes him through the park. Fewer people came here once summer began turning to fall, the cooler air less conducive to outdoor actives like picnics or simply laying out in the grass to enjoy the sun. Today the park is even emptier than usual with the chill in the air, and the icy gusts sweep through the trees which rustle loudly and let go of their leaves, too weak to hold on.

The grass is losing color and the leaves which have fallen are brown and crunch beneath his boots. What leaves are left on the trees are brilliant hues of red and yellow, the truest sign that autumn has arrived in Republic City. Though some may not favor the cooler weather, no one can deny the beauty of a shifting season. Mako certainly won’t try to, and besides, he can hardly feel the severity of the wind anymore, after being outside for some time. Or maybe his face is just numb now.

His patrol is quiet and uneventful, another day passing peacefully. The sun is disappearing behind the horizon, orange light almost blinding as it reflects off the windows of the skyscrapers. Chief Beifong passes by Mako’s desk on her way out and he pauses in his efforts to sort through the new files plopped down on his desk while he was away to listen as she informs him that the officer on sick leave should be back tomorrow. He nods. All right. Thanks, Chief.

She leaves with a curt nod and a sly aside that it’s a good thing too, because if Mako had to be out there again, his nose might fall off. Mako covers his nose with his hand, cheeks heating up. So it did turn red!

It’s dark by the time he’s packed up and left the department. He knows it isn’t late, but the shorter days make it feel that way, and serve to make him feel tired more quickly. However, his destination right now isn’t the apartment. Instead, halfway along the route there, he makes a turn down a different street, continuing until a familiar building comes into view.

Two women come out through the front doors and upon seeing him, smile and wave amicably. One of them says you’re inside, where you always are, and Mako grins back and says thank you. Sure enough, light is peaking through the crack beneath the third door on the left, and he turns the knob and pulls back, opening it and slipping through into the room.

You’re all alone in the dance room, and he knows you see him because of the mirrors covering three of the walls, from the ground up to the ceiling. But you never break your stride, humming to yourself and moving in time with the beat you have set. He stays close to the door, leaning against it in silence and watching you with adoration flittering in his eyes that he doesn’t try to hide.

He knew you were a dancer before the two of you even talked for the first time. He’s nothing if not observant, something of a necessity give his job, and he could easily pick up on the way you held yourself, a sense of ease and litheness to your person he doesn’t often see. His urge to confirm whether his guess is correct is what leads to that first conversation, and your smile when you tell him he’s right is so beautiful and he is transfixed.

Perhaps this aura you exude is practiced for the stage, but Mako is inclined to reason that it’s natural. And he is serving witness to evidence of such, as you dance your way through your routine before finally, you lower yourself gracefully to the floor, right in the center, and he can’t say for sure if it was intentional, the last pose of your dance, or if your muscles are no longer able to support you after practicing for as long as you have. Your nimble descent is punctuated with silence, your chest heaving in deep but controlled breaths and this scene is begging for a spotlight. You aren’t made for the stage; the stage is made for you.

When you meet his gaze through the mirror, he claps, and through your exhaustion you muster a shy smile. You’ve performed before many people but still feel flustered around him, and if he’s being honest, he’s flattered. He’d said as much to you in the past, fond of teasing and fonder still of the blush dusting your cheeks at having heard that.

You’re slow to stand which gives away that you are indeed sore, but you don’t complain about it. You never do. With an inquiry as to how his day has been, you put on your thick coat, ideal for fending off the cold, and scoop up your bag.

He waves a hand. Oh, you know. Same old, same old. And it’s true. It’s been quiet lately and while he certainly wouldn’t mind some exciting stakeouts or chases, he appreciates these quiet days as well. The point is that there’s not much worth talking about and he’d much rather hear about your day instead.

Same old, same old. You say his words back to him playfully and he chuckles, grasping your hand in his. Just practice, practice, and more practice. The company you’re with had decided to hold the upcoming performance outdoors in the park, rather than in the theater they typically were in. It was a chance to take advantage of the weather—it wasn’t so hot as to leave the dancers uncomfortable and weary, and the vibrant colors were a backdrop that could hardly be beat. A performance outside also meant a bigger audience, due to accessibility. Anyone would be welcome to stop and watch for however long they wished.

This performance is also why you leave the apartment during the early hours of morning. While you maintain a disciplined routine even when there are no performances to be preparing for, you’re even stricter with yourself when there are, since you need to ensure everything is perfect. Every small tilt of the head, every angle of an outstretched arm, every expression on your face. You’re the first one in the building and the last one out of it more often than not. He admires your work ethic.

The two of you walk outside and momentarily you let go of his hand to lock the doors. Once you’ve done that, you turn around and catch him sniffling and rubbing at his nose. You frown slightly.

“You forgot to bring a scarf.” It’s not a question.

Mako glances at you and scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, but it’s fine. Really.”

You’re not satisfied with that, but lucky for him, you come prepared. He holds his hand out for you to take but blinks in confusion when you proceed to ignore it and instead rifle through your bag. With a little noise of victory, you pull out your scarf: white, fluffy, and very warm.

Mako smiles, already feeling warmer from your thoughtfulness, but before he can take the scarf, you loop it around his neck for him. He crouches a little to make this easier, since you’re considerably shorter than he is, and you giggle as he does. His smile widens, and after you’re done, he stands straight and takes hold of your hand again. He brings it up to his mouth to lay a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“Thank you.”

You hum in a tone that means Of course. On the short trip home, Mako realizes there is something from his day he would like to share.

“I was out on patrol today and passed through the park,” he explains. “The trees were beautiful. I wished you’d been there to enjoy it with me.”

Your eyes sparkle with affection. “I wish I could’ve been there too. We’ll have to go when we find the time.”

When we find the time being the key phrase. You and Mako are busy with your separate obligations, and often don’t get to spend time together until the very end of the day. Mako meeting you at your dance company’s building and going home with you isn’t a common occurrence, only possible if he leaves work on time. And if he does, you usually tell him not to wait up for you and you’ll just see him when you get back to the apartment. At best, you have a couple of hours with each other, mostly spent in silence due to how tired you both are. But you make do with that. It’s better than nothing.

However, Mako doesn’t feel totally content with it. In fact, he feels rather guilty most days because his work prevents him from making it to your performances. You’ve never made known any disappointment or anger and take care to remind him that it’s okay, you aren’t bothered, but he knows deep down you’d like him to be there and your heart is just too kind to be upfront. It makes his own clench painfully with that growing guilt.

And so, upon the announcement of your company’s plan for the performance in the park, he promised you he would go. If it didn’t line up with his schedule, he would ask Chief Beifong to make changes to the shifts that would allow him to go and make up for it another day. You’d lit up when he told you this, and though you don’t explicitly say so, his promise motivates you to work even harder.

Mako sees it at the end of each day, whether when he meets you at the company building or when he sees you at home: late nights spent practicing, a sweat-laden brow, sore muscles, and a tired smile you gather the energy to grace him with whenever he turns your way and asks  if there’s anything he can do to help you feel more comfortable. He’ll be sitting on the couch and wordlessly open his arms, already knowing what your answer would be, and you plop down next to him and cuddle close, body relaxing with a deep breath. Faintly you admit to him that he makes you feel like you could dance forever.

Me? he questions, partly just to tease and partly from curiosity. He wanted to know more about what you meant by that.

You hum, lowly and fatigued, and he thinks that’s all you’ll share in the ways of a response, and he wouldn’t mind because you need to rest, but after a few seconds you continue. Remember when you teased me about being flustered when I dance in front of you? It’s because I want to do my best to impress you. You’d dance forever if he asked.

When you admit this, he only hugs you tighter and kisses your head and thinks that you don’t have to do anything other than be who you are in order to impress him. He’d love you all the same.

Seeing your hard work behind the scenes only makes him more excited to see the finished product. He hasn’t seen the entire routine, not that you would let him. You stress to him that you want it to be a surprise. It’s simple for him to respect your wish and he waits patiently as the days pass, another X marked on the calendar. In a way, the long shifts at the department are a positive if only because time seems to move quicker while he’s there, so preoccupied with work as he is.

The current month is gone in the blink of an eye. Gingerly you take the calendar from where it hangs on the wall to flip to the next page and Mako sees it, near the top: a big circle, the words “the big day” scribbled inside, in capital letters and paired with three exclamation points.

If it were even possible, he sees even less of you in the final two weeks before the performance. Not only are you working on your own routine, you’d agreed to assist some of the other senior members of the company in reviewing choreography with the less experienced dancers. Originally it hadn’t been one of your obligations, but when the need for extra help arose, you were happy to volunteer. This certainly does nothing to aid your lack of sleep or weary body, but you somehow have the strength to endure it all, looking none the worse for wear and donning a big grin as you explain to Mako what task you’ve taken up.

Of course, the way you plop down into bed each night and fall asleep immediately gives it away, but Mako promises not to tell anyone.

On the day of the show—or, according to the calendar, THE BIG DAY!!!—he wonders as he gets ready for work if you’ll be able to find extra time to review your dance. You’d remarked last night that you hoped you’d be able to, but your new priority had been to help the other dancers run through their choreographies until they—and, well, you too to some extent, given the years of experience you have on them and the trained eye you’ve developed—feel satisfied.

But then you resolved that if you don’t get the chance, it’s okay, and maybe you’re saying it more to yourself than to Mako but he still made sure to remind you not to run yourself ragged. He knows you better than most and knows that you’d try to squeeze in even just a few minutes of last-minute practice if you saw a small opening in your schedule. The intense motivation is inspiring, truly, but it would be a shame if you were to crash on the day your work was to come to fruition.

Once he finishes his stern yet gentle reminder, he looks over at you, and while you nod, showing that you’ve listened and understood, he can detect your excitement for the next day flittering beneath the surface, coursing through your veins so forcefully he suspects you’re one second away from jumping around the room, like a wind-up toy. The corner of his lips lifts in an amused smile and he reaches to take your hand in his.

“Okay?” he asks.

And you know him better than most and know what he’s doing in this moment, softly taking hold of you and pulling you back down to the ground before you float too far away in your own flurried thoughts. The eagerness within you calms down, now a consistent and manageable simmer instead of the original intense exhilaration threatening to burst forth, settled by his touch.

You smile. “Okay.”

When the hour strikes to signify that Mako’s shift is over, he’s quick to clean up his desk and gather his belongings. Chief Beifong is still in her office, the door open, and he pokes his head through quickly to bid her goodbye but doesn’t linger to hear any response. But she doesn’t say anything anyway. She’s aware of what today is.

He doesn’t have time to return to the apartment to change, meaning he’ll have to remain in his uniform, but he doesn’t mind. What he does have adequate time for is a quick stop by the flower shop, and he gets to the park with several minutes to spare.

All the seats that have been put out are filled, but he’s fine with standing. He takes up his place towards the back, and observes the scene, the culmination of your company’s diligence and determination. There’s a stage with a staircase on either side, and the breeze rustles the trees which serve as the backdrop. While there are light rigs set up for when it got darker, for now they’re unnecessary, as the sunlight is soft from the arrival of golden hour.  

The audio technicians are making final adjustments and Mako can see the first group of dancers waiting off to one side of the stage. He scans the rest of the area for you, expecting to find you among the others who are going up later, but he doesn’t spot you anywhere.

Worry festers in the pit of his stomach as he looks around the rest of the crowd, for perhaps you’ve found someone you know and have taken a few minutes to sit down and talk. His effort to find you is unsuccessful, and he’s hardly listening as the introduction to the show is made, a heartfelt thanks for being here and hopes that everyone enjoy what the dancers have worked so hard on. It’s when he hears the rustle of paper that he realizes he’s been squeezing the bouquet stems.

He stares down at his hand, has to manually instruct himself to stop clenching his fist, and one by one his fingers loosen, the wrapping paper crinkling, and he knows this is just to distract himself. The first group of dancers have taken their place on stage and now await the music. Where were you?

“We’re here!”

Mako hears your voice just before the song starts, and he turns to see you jogging lightly, one of the other dancers close behind you. Your steps are careful due to the costume you wear, and you hold some of the extra fabric in one hand to prevent it from blowing in the wind. You both slow to a stop before Xiaohui, your boss and creator of the dance company you’re with, and Mako can’t hear what it is you’re all discussing. But he just cares that you’re here, and as the last of his worry fades, he turns his attention to the stage.

You’d been standing close to Xiaohui to talk to her, but now that your conversation is over, you back up a few steps to a more reasonable distance and your movements in Mako’s peripherals prompt him to look back over at you. You’re not standing very far from him but don’t notice him, which he doesn’t mind. He’s content to watch you, in this short stretch of time before it’s your turn, and if you’re nervous, you do a good job at hiding it.

You start to check over your costume, smoothing out wrinkles you have may created from holding it bunched up while you ran. Then you touch your hair, wanting to be sure it hasn’t loosened from the elegant style you have it in. The other girl you’d arrived with (her name escapes Mako at the moment) sees what you’re doing and leans in to reassure you that you look perfect.

Well, at least, that’s what Mako assumes she says. Because you do look perfect, even in your relaxed state, not having yet taken up the air of the professional performer, that charm and fluidity with the practiced facial expressions to match, enough to mesmerize and captivate. For all your natural poise, when you’re off the stage, you’re goofy and playful and if one didn’t know better, they would hardly believe it was still you when you are on it.

It’s a talent not many have, and even if Mako is aware of your two sides, he’s not prepared when the moment comes, and you ascend the few steps up to the stage alone.

In the seconds of silence before the music plays, your eyes flicker over the audience, and he figures you might be trying to look for him, but you don’t keep at it for long before you look down again, and though he’s too far to see the details of your face, he knows you’re getting into the proper headspace. The melody begins to float from the speakers, and from the very first beat you’re moving, the sound seeming to carry you from one side to the other.

Your gaze is softer than the light from the setting sun and it steals Mako’s breath away. He’d never get used to it, to your presence on stage, lost in the music and the flow of your movements, a smoothness like water heading downstream. You make it all look so effortless, appearing lighter than air and he half expects you to be swept up by the breeze, just like the autumn leaves which surround you. You gain strength from the earth beneath your feet with every step, twist, and turn, and there’s a fire raging inside you which crashes against the walls of your heart, a stunning passion made evident with each agile gesture and dreamy sigh. You’re not a bender but you control the elements better than most.

The dress you wear reaches the floor and flutters freely in the wind now that it’s not being held down, and you appear to glide. And maybe the rest of the audience is thinking what Mako is thinking, that there’s no human on the stage, but something else, a creature from bedtime stories and whose home is the world one sees when glancing into the reflection of a lake on a still day. You’ve emerged from the most ideal parts of the soul, form and breath given to the good deep down in everyone.

Mako’s grip on the bouquet had been slack, his nerves having dissipated after seeing you come running earlier, but it tightens again though not from worry. It mirrors the tightening in the pit of his chest the longer he watches you and he really meant what he'd said before, that you don't have to do anything other than be yourself to impress him. The dance could be the exact same, the one difference being that someone else is up there on that stage, moving to this song in front of these trees and among the falling leaves, but it would never encompass the power you give it. The love he feels for you is profound and the art you live to share with the world only magnifies the reasons why.

As the music slows and fades to a close, and you lower yourself delicately to the ground, a fallen leaf in your own right, he sighs out a breath of admiration, mind hazy like he’s just woken up. You stand up as applause erupts and this time you spot him, your eyes meeting, and despite the space between you filled with an audience as captivated by you as he had been, it feels like you’re the only two people here.

You were scheduled towards the end of the show, so there isn’t long left before closing remarks are made, one more expression of gratitude shared, and then the crowd starts to disperse into a night that’s still young. You’re not able to meet Mako right away, doing what you can to help clean up and put away chairs, and he waits patiently to the side as you do. From where he stands, he can see Xiaohui approach you. Again, he can’t hear the conversation, but he has a suspicion of what it’s about when she motions for you to leave the chair you were about to pick up and points over your shoulder, in his direction.

You follow her finger, and upon spotting him, smile widely. He lifts a hand to give a short wave, and then you turn around, likely asking if Xiaohui is really fine with you leaving now, and she nods. So you begin to say your goodbyes to the other dancers, keeping it brief. And then you’re walking towards him, and he smiles as he presents the bouquet to you. The wrapping paper around the stems is crinkled from his hold but the stems themselves are fine and that's what matters.

“Thank you,” you say as you take the flowers, mindful of the fragile petals. Your voice is quiet, denoting your tiredness, and you’re no longer able to hide it, not that you want to. With the end of the big show, the climax after months of hard work, you can let the walls drop and entertain the idea of sleeping for a full night for once (and maybe a full day too).

“You were amazing.” The compliment’s lackluster and Mako’s not much of a poet but he hopes you understand the depth of his affection, able to be found by peeking between the lines at words not spoken.

A couple of seconds of silence pass as you stare up at him, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks with every blink (up close he can see the glitter dusted across them and across the bridge of your nose, and they glimmer under the light of the lamppost). Finally, when you smile, he knows you’ve understood, and you’re doing it again, what you do whenever he sees you dance: you blush and avert your eyes bashfully, shrinking beneath his fond gaze.

Mako chuckles warmly. While he would like to tease you because he enjoys seeing you get shy, his desire for food outweighs this and he’s sure you’re hungry too, so he takes your free hand in his to lead you out of the park.

“Where would you like eat?” he inquires. “My treat.”

Apparently you’ve been craving ramen, so he brings you to a nice ramen shop Bolin had mentioned stumbling upon randomly one day. It’s calm inside, the patrons talking in hushed voices. A few sit at the bar, drinks in hand and joking around with the chef. The two of you request a table so the host guides you past them, to a booth by the window. After you’ve looked over the menu and given your orders, Mako asks about what happened before the show.

It takes you a moment to figure out what he’s talking about, but once you do, you let out a small Oh! and you begin to explain. The other dancer you’d been with, Meilin, had a tear in her dress she didn’t notice until Xiaohui had pointed it out during rehearsal. You offered to help her patch it, but that involved a trip to a sewing store, still in your costumes, and that cut down on the time you actually had to do the stitching. Thankfully it had worked out just fine.

“Now I’m [Name] the dancer and, apparently, resident seamstress,” you state with a laugh.

Mako laughs too, and then as he settles down, remarks, “That was nice of you to do.”

You shrug like it’s no big deal and maybe to you it isn’t. Maybe there really is nothing for you to note in the way your love stretches and grows to reach anyone who needs it because for you, it’s just another day, and he feels so lucky to rest beneath the shade of something so magnificent.  

Bolin was right: the ramen here is good. Neither of you talks for a while after the waiter brings the food, your appetites whetted from the aromas wafting from the bowls. As Mako eats, he finds his attention drifting to the sight past the windows, to the trees across the street lit by the tall street lamps. Soon, upon the arrival of winter, those trees would be bare. But for now the wind is blowing, and there are still leaves left to float to the ground. His heart feels like one of them, those falling leaves, and he can only hope its gentle descent is to someplace warmer.

He’s distracted, and the lack of clanking silverware from his side of the table prompts you to glance at him, Your head tilts curiously. You okay? you ask quietly. This successfully pulls him from his thoughts, and he turns to you. The light hanging above the table reflects off the glitter sitting pretty on your cheeks and his heart isn’t falling, it already has fallen, right into your welcoming embrace, a perfect shelter from the autumn chill.

The blank look previously on his face is replaced by a smile. Yeah, I’m okay. And how could he not be when he’s with you?

[katie-writes24]

Cursed Blessings

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: MAJOR MENTIONS/BRIEF SCENE OF RAPE! Language, angst, alcohol, suggestive material, and this is just really sad. 

Chpt. 2

Okay, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS! I don’t think the scene is graphic, however it’s there. If you feel that I should put a stronger warning, please don’t be afraid to dm me. 

So, my first ficlet, where do I begin? This story was supposed to be a cute little scene with Thomas and an ex lover but omg, I went so off track but I hope yall like it. I did lots of scheming with this fic and @tinywhim I cannot thank you enough for all the help! Brainstorming with you gives me so much more motivation to actually finish writing stories ngl. But yeah, please be wary. Next part will be much lighter I promise. Let me know if you want to be tagged, I’m tagging my original tjeff taglist. Feedback is always appreciated! And....hope you guys continue this story with me! Enjoy!

Y/N didn’t believe in soulmates, even if she was surrounded by so many people who seemed to be destined to each other. Her parents were married for 27 years, never once betrayed each other, they even died together. Even though her mother would call them soulmates, she didn’t believe it, she just thought they were two people who found an undeniable love. 

It was this phrase that was tossed around so much that it was starting to seem like a far off fantasy. 

That changed when she met Thomas. 

He was brilliant, charming, he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. He had little quirks about him that she knew was just for her to see. Y/N liked when he would tell a story and he would get this fond look in his eye, and start scrunching up his nose the faster he talked. To her it was adorable, to him it was stupid. 

Thomas made her feel safe, she’s never felt like that before. 

They met at an art exhibit, and the two spent the whole night talking about different pieces and ended up going to a small diner, looking ridiculously overdressed. She could see her mother gush about how romantic it was, how she could picture the wedding now. 

Y/N still didn’t believe in soulmates, but she did start to imagine a future with the man. 

Two years in, they were finally thinking about moving in together. Thomas found a nice place in Charlottesville, not too far from his family’s estate. It felt like a perfect dream. They were going to close on it at the end of summer. 

It was all perfect timing. The Jefferson's always threw a big charity event in July, the house would be filled with hundreds of snobby, rich attendees. Trying to fill in a conversation with any of them bored her to death, but Y/N couldn’t complain because while they had no genuine personality, they did have money. The event usually does really well each year, and this year was no different. 

Y/N spent that whole weekend at the Jefferson's estate, helping set up decorations and enjoying her time with him and his father. Ever since Thomas’s mother passed, Peter hasn’t been as social with outsiders. 

And even though she had heard some stories from the past that gave her dreaded chills, the man seemed to mean well. Thomas had told her that it was all in the past, and that he still cares for his father, so she shouldn’t hold it against him if Thomas wasn’t. 

The night after the fundraiser she learned more about Peter Jefferson. He liked to golf, he enjoyed telling awful jokes, and he liked to drink. 

He drank a lot that night. 

Y/N was in the study, reading the final chapter of her book on the couch. Thomas had gone out with James for the night, seeing that he would be leaving to go up to New York till the end of summer. It was peaceful; she was wrapped in a large blanket, feet on the table with a mug of coffee and a good book. 

The characters were clashing, it was something she hadn’t expected. She leaned forward and focused more on the words, not noticing the door open and shut quietly behind her. She only lifted her head when she felt cold fingertips run up her backside. 

Y/N turned around quickly, noticing Peter barely standing on his own. 

“Peter, are you alright? You don’t look too good.” His eyes were foggy, there was a stain across his shirt and he hiccupped to himself as he laughed. 

“Well, I think...you do, darling.”

“Do what?”

“You look..good, very-very good if I might add.” He staggered into the seat next to her and immediately put his hand on her thigh. 

“What are you doing?!” She pushed his hand off and he chuckled again. 

“You know, Thomas...my son he sure did pick out...a beautiful lady. And, heh, at least he did something right, he did something good in his life. But that boy, he still doesn't have the mindset yet...he doesn’t see that-” Peter drifted off as he looked like he was about to vomit all over himself. 

It was an opportunity, it was the perfect time to leave. 

“He’s so blinded by your wit that he doesn’t see that you’re taking as you please, and maybe not even to him alone, right huh?” He grabbed Y/N’s calf as he tucked himself into her neck. 

“He doesn’t see the way you dress, the way you look, how you’re just asking for it! Is he not giving you enough attention, darling?”

His hands felt slimy and unfamiliar, and they were certainly unwanted. 

But what was Y/N to do? She could’ve easily ran out the room. The man was drunk, she could’ve easily shoved him, hit him hard enough, and he would probably stumble and she could get out. She could call Thomas-

Thomas. 

Thomas kept her safe, Thomas promised her that she was his and nobody else’s. Thomas left the house, Thomas brought her into an abuser’s house. 

Thomas was going to be so upset. 

And she could avoid this, Y/N could put an end to this hand running up her shorts. 

But she was numb, she was lost. All she could see was Thomas, all she could think was Thomas. But that certainly wasn’t Thomas’s hands, not his soothing touch, not his caring praise. It was Peter’s, and it was disgusting. But if she ended this, what would he say to Thomas? 

By the time she could feel her feet, it was already over. 

Y/N sat up to her pants on the floor along with a spilled coffee and puke smears on the rug. Her bones were cold, but that blanket had a white stain that made her uncomfortable. She looked and found the door closed. 

As if he never even came in. 

Maybe it was seconds, maybe it was hours, but when she finally sat up her whole body weight caved in on her. 

She had to clean up the mess, she needed to get rid of the evidence. 

She had to clean herself, she felt like this wasn’t her body. She was violated, she was abused, she was used. 

Y/N took the longest shower of her life, whether it be from her crying or trying to disinfect the feeling of hands crossing her torso. 

She went to bed alone, and surprisingly, sleep caught her quick. When she woke up, she was still alone. No Thomas, no Peter. 

Her emotions ran over her again and she sobbed gently into her pillow. She was too afraid to leave the bed, too afraid to go downstairs and see what broke her, is breaking her. It was too much. 

When her tears finally ran dry, there was a knock on the door. Immediately, she pulled her knees up to her chest and felt her heart jump. She stopped breathing until she heard her boyfriend’s voice. 

As he walked in, he had bloodshot eyes, wearing the same clothes as the night before. 

“Sorry I didn’t come back home. I drank a little too much, crashed at James’s place.” 

I drank a little too much. 

“It’s okay,” Her voice cracked and she hoped he didn’t notice it. Y/N couldn’t bear with his overwhelming care right now, she wasn’t ready for questions. 

“Hey, so, turns out I do have to go in tomorrow, and early at that. So, what do you say getting a head start on the drive back?” Raising a brow, Thomas had a soft look on his face. He looked so different all of a sudden. 

“I would like that.” Y/N put on her best smile. 

But she couldn’t hold it forever, she would eventually give herself away, and of course after being together for a couple of years, Thomas would know a difference. The lack of hugs, the uncharacteristic quiet, working, what she claimed, “overtime.”

They were signs. 

The next few weeks, he made an effort to do better, try harder. Thomas booked reservations at the most expensive restaurants, he surprised her at work on Wednesday’s, he made sure to leave the office on time so he could cook dinner for Y/N, always asking how her day was. 

He said those three words at every chance he got because he needed her to know, he needed her to understand that whatever was happening, whoever she was seeing, they wouldn’t love her like him. 

It wasn’t enough. 

“Is there someone else?”  

Y/N turned to look at him, luggage in hand. She’s never seen him so broken, so lost. He had stopped crying, clinging to himself as if to hold him close to the ground. Those eyes, those deep brown eyes that she fell in love with...they were too similar. 

It was like she was back on that couch, seeing those drunken orbs that ruined her forever. 

Apparently, her silence was his answer. Thomas nodded his head sadly and walked back towards the bedroom, leaving Y/N stuck to the doorstep. 

~~~

“It could turn out to be a blessing.”

Her jaw was shut tight, hand over her mouth, restricting even the tiniest sob from letting loose. 

“No matter what happens, we’ll help you out….” 

This town wouldn’t let her live peacefully if she dared approach one of those buildings. 

“Have you at least called the father?”

Peter gave her a check and a note two days ago. 

“Why don’t you just come up here? We can figure this out together.”

Her phone dinged, and there was a ticket to New York staring at her. 

“Whatever you need, whatever you decide, we’ll support you, Y/N.”

She was gonna need it. 

Jefferson Taglist: @notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @checkurwindow @einfachniemand @astralaffairs @daveeddiggsit @ramp-it-up @ohsoverykeri-blog @i-know-i-can

[yoongsgguktae]

honey, i’m home 02 | pjm

summary; you finally get to meet his cats, and get to witness how cute your neighbor truly is pairing; jimin x reader genre; neighbors!au | s2l | fluff rating; pg15 word count; 2.1k warnings; sleepy cats, napping kitties, loving felines, and jimin’s arms

a/n; i can’t believe i wrote 2k words about being introduced to cats uwu thank you @dollwithluv​ for reading this over and helping me with some ideas. and shout-out to @starlightseoks​ for letting me honor Kitty Cat in this.

MASTERLIST PART 01 | [PART 02] | PART 03

—

You've been standing in front of his door for a bit longer than deemed normal. Thankfully not a single person has passed you by in the corridor while your fist hovers slightly above the door for what feels like ten minutes now. Naturally your arm gets tired, you sigh in defeat and lower your hand, your eyes fluttering close as you take a breath to slow your nerves. 

You're nervous and you hate it. Hate that you're feeling these foreign emotions, one's you haven't felt since your last relationship a few years back. You stopped caring about what people thought of you, you gained confidence after that monstrosity of a relationship and stopped doubting yourself. But with him, your hard facade is proving to break just at the thought of him, you suddenly care about what this semi-stranger thinks of you. You changed your outfit at least three times before coming to his door, having to remind yourself it's a simple gathering of two neighbors enjoying food together. Again, but this time planned.

Ever since you two shared pizza at your place, your stomach fills with butterflies when you see him around the building or simply when you think of him, which is all the time, to be honest. His soft smile is engraved in your mind and his boasting laugh plays on repeat. He was charming that night, made you laugh harder than you've had in a long while. You suddenly started craving it more, after having a taste of happiness. 

This morning you crossed paths with him in the laundry room, he was taking his clothes out from the dryer just as you arrived to put yours to wash. It took everything in your power to not stare at his arms as he folded his laundry. He wore a tank that put his muscles out on display, he knows very well the effect he has and he's not afraid to show it, you saw it in the way he smirked at you. Only when he wasn't looking did you allow yourself to sneak a glance. 

He invited you over for lunch, said he wanted to introduce you to his cats. You laugh lightly at the memory of his cheeks turning softly red when he referred to them as 'my girls'. Your heart grew two folds as his love for them sparkled in his eyes. 

Suddenly you hear his door unlock and it starts to creak open. Jimin appears in his doorway with that signature smile you’ve learned to grow fond of. "Hey, I thought I heard someone at my door." 

Oh god, did he hear you standing here this entire time? "Hi." You're still rooted in place, trying not to internally combust as you realize he hasn't changed his clothes since you last saw him. Your mind short circuits just thinking about how you're going to survive this lunch date with his arms on full display. Wait, this is not a date, you need to stop overthinking this. 

"Please come in." He steps aside, motioning for you to enter. You pass the threshold into his space, slowly taking in his apartment with wandering eyes, it all feels cozy compared to your own boring place. You hear the door softly click shut behind you, a warm hand barley there placed at your lower back as Jimin guides you to his living room. “I’ve just placed the dish in the oven, should be only a few minutes. In the meantime, let me show you to—” 

“—your girls,” you say for him.

You feel him stop his movements, no longer walking in pace with you. You turn around to see a small pout form on his lips. “You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?” His head tilts to the side as he tsks. 

Jimin resumes making his way to the couch, walking past you. "This here," he says pointing to the cat sleeping on a blanket. "Is Luna." He reaches for her, pets her head softly with the tip of his fingers, just barely as to not wake her. He turns his gaze back to you, you're still standing there, not having moved an inch. "Well, come say hello." He gestures his head to the cat. 

You were still caught off guard by his adorable pout, and that head tilt thing, what was that even? Adorable, that's what. Your body finally responds, moving to get a better look at the fluffy cat napping on the couch. You drop down to level yourself with the furball, your knees cushioned by his soft area rug. "She's so precious!" You coo softly as you pet her head the same way you just watched Jimin do. The cat begins to purr in appreciation. 

You glance up at him, still running your hands at the top of her head lightly. "How old is she?"

"She's five, I rescued her when she was about two along with one of her kittens." He looks around his space, eyes searching. "She should be around here somewhere." His eyes focus to the corner of the room, where a cat tower sits. "Ah, there she is." 

You follow his eyes and see the biggest tower you've ever laid eyes on, nothing but the best for his cats. A similar-looking cat rests inside the top cubby, peacefully sleeping. "That's really sweet of you to rescue one of her babies as well. Were you planning on bringing home two cats that day?" 

"No, I was trying to find a companion for my first cat, but Bella," he says pointing to the black cat. "Was very attached to her mother." Jimin heads towards her, gently picks her up out of the cubby, and carries her back over to the couch. As soon as he sets her down, you see for yourself, the attachment he talks about. Bella saunters over to her mother and makes herself comfortable, snuggling close until she falls back asleep. "I fell in love with their relationship, how Luna was and still is a great mother to Bella. They're inseparable and I didn't want them to get adopted separately and go to different homes when they should be together."

You feel like your heart is about to explode. His devotion to his three cats amazes you. Jimin is a sensitive man and he's not ashamed of it, you can see that he wears his heart out on his sleeve. You admire him even more, wish you could be more like him, someone who can express their feelings genuinely, carefree.

He walks over to his window, the one that accesses the fire escape that is shared with your apartment. A cat lays basking in the sun on the window sill. "Now this here is my baby." His face turns into that of panic for a second as he corrects himself. "Not saying the other two are not of course! Kitty Cat was my first so she holds a special place in my heart," he explains. You're not sure if he corrected himself because he doesn't want you to think he plays favorites or if he fears he offended his other two cats somehow. You find that thought amusing, you let out a light chuckle.

"Kitty Cat?" You sit on his floor with your back against the couch, not wanting to disturb the sleeping mother and daughter. You watch Jimin pick up 'his baby', cradling her against his chest. His hands rubbing soothing circles on her belly. He comes to sit beside you. 

"That's the result of letting my old neighbor's daughter name her. She was only five, so naturally she named her Kitty Cat." He shifts her in his arms and holds the cat out for you to grab. She squirms in your hold for a moment before you settle her in your lap, resuming her nap almost instantly. Jimin smiles at you as he watches the cat get comfortable with your presence. 

The cat's fur is soft under your touch, you play with her white paws, soothingly rubbing your thumbs over them. She's a tuxedo cat and her paws look like little booties, she's precious. "What?" you question when you see him watching you. His smile is doing things to you, you thank heavens you're sitting as you grow weak under his gaze. 

"I think she recognizes your scent."

You look at him puzzled. "What do you mean? This is the first time I've met her." You gaze down at the cat. Have you seen her before? She doesn't seem familiar. 

Your eyes are back on him as he chuckles. "Well you see," he starts. He points at the window Kitty Cat was just sleeping at. "She is the only one allowed on the fire escape because she doesn't run away, except for this one day." He runs his hands through his beautiful black hair, you assume he's mentally reliving the stress of whatever story he is about to retell as his face scrunches up slightly. You watch his locks settle back into place, they look so soft to touch. 

"I went out to the fire escape to bring her back in after some time had passed but she was nowhere to be found. She ended up in your apartment actually." 

That had you narrowing your eyes at him. "How on earth did she get into my apartment?"

"Did you forget already?" Jimin looks at you dumbfounded. "You have a problem with leaving your window open. We talked about this." One of his eyebrows lifts up as he looks at you teasingly, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Right. You don't close your windows. "Yeah yeah, ok I get it." You wave him off. You've been doing a better job at remembering to do so since the night he decided it was a good idea to climb through your window, giving you a heart attack. "How did you get her out?"

Now he's doing that thing again, grabbing at the back of his neck. His arms flex at the motion, your eyes struggling to stay focused on his face and definitely not on his toned muscles. "When I finally heard her meow, I saw her in your living room. I kept trying to make her come to me, but she wouldn't. So I panicked." 

He shrinks into himself slightly and murmurs, "I went in and grabbed her quickly." He looks at you sheepishly, biting his lip as he paused for a moment to gauge your reaction. "But I promise it was super quick and I closed the window behind me," he finished hurriedly. 

Your hands stop their movement on Kitty Cat. You lift a finger and poke at his chest. "So when you said you close my window because you care about my safety, you meant to say you close it because your cat was getting into my apartment." His chest felt firm under your finger. You're momentarily consumed with thoughts of running your hands against his chest, but you're quickly brought back to the present when Jimin grabs your hand.

"Yes, but I also care about your safety, that's why I keep doing it." He doesn't let go of your hand, lowering it in his lap as he continues, "I closed it for you two days ago for example. It was wide open again." His thumb slowly brushes against your knuckles as he holds your gaze.

You fall into a comfortable silence as you two sit there on his floor. Your heart is pounding out of control at the tender contact and the idea of him caring. Does he care for you as his neighbor? Or would you be silly in thinking it could be more than that? You two were strangers just a few weeks ago. You never would have predicted being in this position, over his house with his cat on your lap and him holding your hand.

The oven beeps, signifying the food is ready, screaming for it to be taken about before it burns. The noise makes Kitty Cat stir on your lap. Jimin loosens his grip on your hand and you reluctantly let him go. You watch him grab her off your lap and place her on the couch with the other two.

He stands up, brushes away the imaginary dust on his jeans, and clears his throat. You also busy yourself with fixing your shirt, not knowing where to put your hands now that it wasn't connected with his. You look up to see his hand reaching out to help you stand. 

"Let's eat?"

Your hands connect again. You feel at ease.

—

< PART 01 | PART 03 >

all rights reserved © 2020 yoongsgguktae copying / redistributing the work is not allowed

—

reviews are always welcomed :)

MASTERLIST

[tsukaramachi]

Reunited (Yandere N Harmonia x Reader)

(The image above is from a pokemon valentines event btw not my art. Sorry if my writing sucks :/ The story is also on quotev too and if anyone wants me to post the Yandere akira one too then send me an ask in the ask box please)

“I’m finally coming home…” looking down at the mass of land underneath you as a couple of clouds blocked your vision. You have arrived back home in your own region, Unova. Petting the side of Reshiram’s white feathers, you ponder on where you should land. You thought about paying a visit to your mother in Nuvema town, but it was still a bit far away.

Looking down, you notice how some things have changed since you last visited. From what you’ve heard, your child friends had built a new life for themselves. Cheren became the new first gym leader to challenge the new youth and Bianca is an assistant for professor Juniper. You haven’t been able to hear from them much since they’ve gotten busy, but you still consider them your best friends even after your journey finished.

While reminiscing about your adventures, your hold on Reshiram’s feathers tightens. Prompting the legendary to look at you.

“Ah sorry Reshiram…I was just thinking about my friends…”

You watch as the white dragon breathes out a small breath of fire as if it’s exhaling at your lie. The legendary could clearly tell that you’re upset, but it turns back to looking forward once again. You sigh as you loosen your grip on Reshiram’s feathers and gently pet the area. Sometimes you end up tugging too tightly on its feathers, causing it to grow agitated but it never scolds you for it. For it knows the reason why you’ve been so somber lately.

After your last battle with N. The green haired boy disappeared with Zekrom. You searched all around Unova to find him afterwards and even heard about how some people spotted a giant black dragon flying in the sky. But you could never find him. You even took a journey to a far away regions in hope of finding N, but after two years. You couldn’t find him.

So here you are, finally coming back to your home region.

In the distance, the silhouette of a tower comes into view. Squinting your eyes to try and make out the building. A small smile makes it’s way upon your lips.

Dragonspiral tower, the place where you caught Reshiram and also a place you used to visit quite often. Reshiram flies over to the top of the tower, flapping its wings as it slowly lands on top of the old stone floor. You hop off from Reshiram’s back and throw your arms into the air. Holding your posture, you stretch your body to get rid of the stiffness you felt from sitting for so long. Dropping your hands down, you put your hands on top of your hips.

Taking a look around, the dreary atmosphere makes you feel a bit unsettled. Crumbled white columns and stray debris scattered about isn’t the most comforting, but you’re fond of the tower for something else.

Here, you ventured through the tower along with your pokemon against team plasma. When you reached the top, you witnessed N awaken Zekrom. Then you caught Reshiram at the top of the very same tower. Being here, you could recall one of the memories you had of N. You feel a nudge from the white legendary as it pushes at your back.

You smile and take a hold of its head and pet it gently. It sits down and rest its head on the floor. Sitting yourself down next to it. You lay back against it and doze off.

The sound of shuffling awakens you. Your eyes flutter open, but you’re soon surprised by the image of N’s face close to yours. You freeze in place as you watch him bring up a pale hand to your face. Brushing his fingers against your cheek, you look in awe at him.

Is it really him? The person you’ve been searching for all these years is now finally back? No words seem to make it out of your mouth. What should you even say when you’re so caught off guard?

N smiles at you as he leans in closer to look at you. His green eyes staring intently at yours. His hand lingers on your cheek, but it’s soon pinched. You snap out of your trance and your brows scrunch together.

“Wha-”

A light snicker comes from him. He steps back and flips up into the air. Your eyes widen as you watch the illusion before you fade. His light green fluff of hair grows as it becomes spikier and the green fading away into red and black.

“A zoroark!?” you stumble back into Reshiram, causing the legendary to wake up.

The wild pokemon lands onto its clawed feet, it turns to look at you once again. Its eyes narrow as a grin makes its way across it’s face.

It quickly rushes off and jumps off from the tower, leaving you dumbfounded with the now awake legendary. Taking a second to process what just happened, you snap out of it.

“Reshiram let’s go!” the legendary roars. It leans down as you climb onto its back. It flaps its wings and jumps off the tower, diving down with you clinging closely to its body. You can see the Zoroark look back up at you and it smiles. It lands safely against the floor, but changes into a different pokemon and runs off into the thick forest.

It’s still bright out so you tell Reshiram to follow it. The lengendary’s form shadows over the pokemon as it glides above the trees. Through the leaves, you can still track it. You can’t afford to take your eyes off of it.

The both of you follow the pokemon until it stops in an open clearing. You don’t recognize the area, but it makes you pause. Wild pokemon play happily in the open field surrounded by various wild flowers ranging in color. You can see a group of deerling run around happily and a couple Sawsbuck watching them nearby.

A gust of wind passes through and cottonee and whimsicott drift past you. A sweet scent makes its way to you and you see a pink mist emit from a lilligant dancing around with a couple of other pokemon.

In the distance, you can see the zoroark morph into N again. It raises its hands and waves, but to whom? It’s facing away from you and Reshiram but before you could see whoever comes out. Reshiram suddenly stops and the two of you begin to fall.

Adrenaline rushes through you as you try to keep calm, “Reshiram what happened?!” but the pokemon doesn’t budge. You lose your grip and fall off from the legenday. It’s eyes closed, you call out for it to wake up again. But it’s no use.

Reaching into your pocket. You swiftly pull out its pokeball and call it back. A red light surrounds it as it shrinks and goes back into the ball.

You stuff the ball into your back and shut your eyes. Your only pokemon you have that can fly at the moment is Reshiram and even if you did somehow have a way to stop the fall you don’t have enough time to look through your bag to pull out the right pokemon.

You close your eyes shut as you brace for impact. At least your pokemon are safe…but you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to see them again once you reach the ground.

“Sigilyph, whirlwind!”

A gust of wind circles around you as you’re falling stops. You’re lowered to the grass below. When your foot reaches the ground the wind stops and you fall to your knees. You try to catch your breath as you try to remain calm. You were going to scream, but the event had taken you by surprise making you now feel the fear course through you.

hearing someone get closer to you, you look up to see A darmanitan and the Zoroark that shifted into N from before you fell. The two look at each other and nod.

“Wha… what happened?” you say as you look up at them, you hear something else make its way towards you. But before you can see them, you hear someone murmur a command. Your eyes start to feel heavy, a yawn escapes from your mouth as you try to stay awake. Your arms feel weak causing you to fall onto the soft grass.

“Wait…do you know where…where I can find him?”

———————————-

As N watches peacefully rest. He smiles as he brushes as stray hair away from your face. Ah, it’s been so long since he last saw you. After your final battle, he left to find another way to make his ideals come to fruition. But as he traveled with Zekrom and spent time away from humans. A strange emptiness within him began to grow.

While he was surrounded by the kindness of Pokemon. His interactions with humans lessened with him leaving team plasma and his father being arrested. He was truly free from his old life and while he had ended liberated by you, he had no where to go.

He thought he could find another way to liberate Pokemon without hurting humans, but the feeling of longing made his vision become unclear. Wasn’t just being around Pokemon enough or did he just wish to return to team Plasma? But after seeing that some members had chosen to be passive about it and had gone into hiding, the feeling was still there.

For a while he tried to ignore the feeling by occupying himself by going to different regions to meet different Pokemon. But whenever he tried to act like he was happy it was no use. For the Pokemon he befriended would nudge him to go back to Unova. He wasn’t sure on why, but after recently coming back to Unova. His frisky Zoroark would leave without notice.

He trusts all Pokemon and he always let his Pokemon have the option to leave, but it was a bit strange that the dark type Pokemon had developed the habit of disguising itself as him. Oh but the wonderful surprise that his friends gave him today was so exhilarating.

First, they lead him to an open field deep within the forest that had various Pokemon that lived in the area. He was able to laugh and interact with each and every one just like how he used to as a child.

It was fun and it took his mind off of the foreign feeling, but when Zekrom started to act strangely. He could tell something was coming for how the legendary would stare off towards the same direction.

But he never thought that he would be rushed out to see you again. He couldn’t understand it but once he saw you, he asked a nearby group of Petilil to use sleep powder on the legendary. Which caused it to stop and fall towards the ground. He then had to command his Sigilyph to use whirlwind to cushion your fall to keep you safe.

While the sleep powder didn’t hit you directly, some of it had gotten onto you which made you fall asleep after reaching the ground. He didn’t mind though, it was perfect.

Now, he’s able to watch you rest peacefully by his side. No conflict and being here with you put him as ease. The feelings that pestered him so vanished like thin air when you’re with him and now he understood what those feelings are: it’s love.

He didn’t notice it before but the feeling had blossomed whenever he would see you. In Accumula Town, in front of Nacrene gym, and on the ferris wheel in Nimbasa City. With every meeting, he wanted always anticipated for you to come and he thought of you as some type of rival. But as time went on he realized that you, you’re someone special. Someone who has a strong bond with their Pokemon and is able to understand them without needing to speak to them. He couldn’t believe it before, but after his final fight with you. He missed you terribly so.

Whenever he was riding on Zekrom’s back, he would look down as if he was searching for you. Whenever someone that looked remotely similar to you passed by, he would take a second glance every time to see if it was truly you. At night he had dreamt of you and woke up in the morning to feel emptiness in his heart. He had thought that maybe he was growing paranoid but his friends knew what it really was. Pokemon truly understand more than he ever could.

Raising his hand up to his mouth, N chuckles to himself as he can’t help but find you cute like a sleeping Munna.

“I know you can’t hear me now, but I’ve been wanting to tell you this (Y/N)…” N takes out a one of his golden square bracelets from his left wrist. Slipping the object around around your own, “I love you, (Y/N)… I thought I could be happy seeing Pokemon liberated from being used as tools, but now I’m selfishly wanting more. I want you to be there by my side…I want only you with me and the thought of being away from you again pains me to think of it. You tore away the world’s black and white visage that I had when I was king of team plasma, and I can’t help but wish for you to  stay by my side so I won’t ever lose my way again…”

Leaning down towards you, he tenderly brushes the back of his hand against your soft skin. After two long years he’s reunited with you once again and this time. He doesn’t plan on leaving or letting you go.

[immacaria]

A bird and a Cupid

  This is prompted by Day 2 of SangCheng December: Birds and as I’m not quite happy with the end, I would say that the rest of story is good. Here we have Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang tooking caring of Curió, one of the first birds Nie Mingjue gave to Huaisang (I have the odd habit of calling Nie Huaisang just Huaisang, so if you see just ‘Huaisang’ on the fic you know why) and she is a smartass who kind of brought the two of them together. Enjoy the fic and let me know what you think of it! Have a good day! 

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng had met through Wei Wuxian, but they stayed together because of each other, especially after Nie Mingjue went back to Qinghe and Wei Wuxian started dating Lan Wangj. They found a small apartment near their colleges, beautiful and petite and on which Nie Huaisang went absolutely crazy over it, even though Jiang Cheng had to admit it really was beautiful at the end. The building was fairly good and so were the neighbourhood, their neighbours were students as well and they all kind of bunched up to eat lunch, dinner or just to talk.

  It was good on it’s own way. In the morning, Jiang Cheng would wake up at five in the morning and go into a run, come back, take a bath and go make breakfast. Just then he would wake up Nie Huaisang so they would eat together until it was time for him to go to his classes and Nie Huaisang go take his bath and go to his own art classes. At lunch they would meet with some neighbours to gather up money and get food at the little restaurant/cafe near both the college and the art school. At the end of the day, the two of them would encounter at the bus station and go back home walking. Together, always together. When it was dinnertime, a girl down the hall, one the seniors, would make dinner for the four apartments around hers and feed everybody. So, yes, it was good. 

  "A-Cheng!" Now Huaisang screamed from the door, putting his shoes on the shelf Jiang Cheng had made. "A-Cheng, are you home?" 

  "Taking a bath!" Jiang Cheng screamed back from the bathroom, turning the shower off. "How was your class?" 

  "Good, good. I have yet another art project." He answered, hearing the shower turn on again. He let a shaky breath out, pulling a little golden cage from behind his back and putting it on the table, smiling at the little bird inside. "Hello. I missed you, sweetie." He put his index finger inside it, caressing its head and laughing lowly at the small content sounds the bird made. "Are you hungry? I will catch some food for you, hold on." He headed to his room, smiling at the bird. 

  That bird was the first one that Nie Mingjue gave him and one who was beside him through a lot of times, cheering him with his little songs and jumps. It was even funnier how she kind of mothered the younger birds they brought home, even sighing heavily when that did an idiocy or got themselves in trouble. That was one of the reasons Nie Huaisang brought her here, he got hurt trying to defend one the youngest and needed exams and remedy. 

  "What the hell is this? Why is there a bird on my table?" Jiang Cheng yelled from the living room and Nie Mingjue would be proud of the way and speed Nie Huaisang ran to there. 

  “A-Cheng! Don’t scream! She is sick.” Nie Huaisang held his arms, pulling him away from the bird. He obviously had just got out of the bath and instead of going straight to his room like he would normally do, he decided to go to the living room to talk to Huaisang. “Let Curió alone!” He added, readily ignoring the fact that his roommate was just on his briefs and with a towel on his head. 

  “Cur-what? What kind of name is that?” 

  “It’s brazilian, okay? My cousin TongTong suggested it after Da-Ge brought him from Brazil.” Nie Huisang said, shaking his head. “Let Curió alone!”

  “What kind of fucking name is that?” 

  “I don’t know, okay? You already asked that! We were looking at a list of names Da-Ge had found funny while visiting and we found this one the funniest. We were kids, A-Cheng!” He huffed, letting go of him and opening the cage. He let the little brown bird jump on his finger as he set up everything. “But you can call her whatever you want, just give her food while doing it and she will answer… And probably ask for some food.” He shrugged, letting her eat. He had missed that smartass and cunning bird a lot, especially when pleading for food to anyone who gave her a threat out of time. “Da-Ge calls her Xiao Niao, which is very original in the world the old man lives in.”

  “I am going to tell Mingjue-ge you called him and old man.” Jiang Cheng huffed, still eyeing Curió suspiciously. “Is she going to stay here for long?”

  “Curió is sick, A-Cheng! Be good!” He yelped, pushing him away. “Go put some clothes. No one needs to see your naked glory besides me.”

  “Greedy, aren’t we?” He chuckled, lifting his hands on surrender, going to his own room. 

  “Don’t mind him, Curió. He’s just jealous.” Nie Huaisang smiled at her, caressing her head. “You both are the love of my life, along with Da-Ge and all of your children.” 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  As days passed, Nie Huaisang saw that Jiang Cheng was growing fond of Curió. If he wasn’t near to give her the medicine, Jiang Cheng would do it quicker and better than him. If he was near but had forgotten, Jiang Cheng would appear at his room and scream that he was irresponsible and had forgotten to feed her. At some point, Nie Huaisang got home to see a working Jiang Cheng with Curió sitting at his head, sleeping. 

  Sincerely, the boy could deny all he wanted to, but he had become a bird dad with capital B. Hell, he even defended the name Nie Huaisang and his cousin had chosen based on their six-years-old wisdom and would teach anyone how to pronounce it. So yes, it was very cute and did unholy things to Nie Huaisang’s heart, but no one needed to know the latter. No one besides Nie Mingjue, who would suffer a lot until he could talk about his feelings with Jiang Cheng again.  

  “Da-Ge! I’m dying!” 

  “Good. Die, then!” Nie Mingue groaned and he was sure that he was rubbing his eyes angrily. No wonder why, as it was five in the morning on Qinghe and Nie Huaisang probably just woke him up. 

  “Da-Ge!” He cried out, throwing himself back in the bed. Jiang Cheng wasn’t going to arrive after an hour or so yet and he had enough time to overreact over him. “I can not deal with this anymore! First, he adopts Curió, now he is defending and fathering her! Hell, he even lets her stay on his shoulder and head when it’s just the two of us.” 

  “You are going crazy over?” Nie Mingjue said, even though his tone was lower than it usually would be. 

  “A-Cheng, Da-Ge! Weren’t you paying attention to my rambling?”

  “Didi, you ramble twenty-four hours per day, there are times that, yes, I simply stop paying attention to whatever is that you are saying.” He sassed, making Nie Huaisang gasps in outrage. 

  “You are horrible. Here I am dying and you are making fun out of me.” 

  “Okay, listen. Xiao Niao doesn’t like strangers, even if they give her food. So, if she is so close to Jiang Wanyin, there’s a good chance of the boy being a great child.” Nie Mingjue sighed and Nie Huaisang knew he was massaging his temples. “You are a menace, Huaisang, do you know that? It’s five in the morning and you are screaming in my ear about your crush on your roommate.” Again, his tone was lower than what it would normally be. 

  “Da-Ge, is someone there with you? Is it Xichen-ge?” He smiled, knowing fully well he was. 

  “Stop smirking, I can feel it from here.” 

  “You didn’t answer my question.” He replied in a sing-song voice, knowing the answer fully well. 

  “Yes! Yes, Lan Xichen is here. Happy now?” He growled.

  “Yes. Wait, no! Is Yao-ge…?” 

  “Both of them, you menace, both of them are here.” He interrupted and Nie Huaisang already pictured Lan Xichen on the left side of the bed, sleeping peacefully with his hair in a braid while Meng Yao was wrapped around a pillow, looking like a koala, with his brother in the middle, hugging them both. 

  “And you call me a menace. Bye bye, Da-ge. Happy sleep.” He snickered, turning off the phone quickly. It was a good thing that the three of them finally managed to work themselves around and start dating. It was getting annoying the way they bluntly ignored each other’s feelings. Later, he would have to ask if the video that he sent to Lan Xichen of Nie Mingjue drunkenly confessing his love for both him and Meng Yao had been of any help. But now he had to get up and give his little girl food before making breakfast for him and Jiang Cheng.

  “Hello, Curió.” He greeted the little bird, putting food on a small container inside the cage. “Surprised to see me up, aren’t you? Me too, but since I am already up I guess I will make breakfast for me and A-Cheng, what do you think?” Curió let out a happy sound, that could both mean that she thought that it was a good idea or just that she was happy that she got food earlier than normally. “Yeah, I think so too.” He laughed, going to the kitchen. “Did you know that I met A-Cheng when I was thirteen years old? And that he was a brother who is a danger to society?” He started saying, gathering up everything he needed to make breakfast. “Don’t get me wrong, Curió, Wei-xiong is a sweetheart but he is a feral trash child too and he is so dense. Oh gods, he is so dense that he could bend a knife if anyone ever tried to cut it.” He put a pan on the cooker, chuckling to himself. “And he thinks that Lan Zhan doesn’t like him back. Lan Zhan! The gayest gay I know! But they are coming together and I think they will start dating before the end of the year.” Huaisang said, hearing a flutter of wings. “Coming.” He said, turning the cooker off to go see her. She had already finished eating and was looking expectantly at him, waiting for him to bring her to the kitchen. 

 “I’m sorry for letting you here, sweetheart.” Nie Huaisang said, smiling at her as he brought the cage to the kitchen with him. "As I was saying, they will start dating at the end of the year if Lan Zhan makes the first move. Either than that we are going to see those two idiots dancing around each other, trying to see if the other likes them just as much." He rolled his eyes, deep frying some fish sticks. Curió chirped besides him, jumping away from the cooker. "I know, I know, I don't like deep frying either." He started humming an old song that his mother used to sing to him when she was happy. Soon, Curió joined in, singing her own version of the song and making Nie Huaisang chuckle on his song. 

  "You know, A-Cheng is as dense as his brother, if not worse than him. Did you see how obvious he is to other people's feelings? It's almost painful to watch!" Nie Huaisang said, putting the table. "Yes, I know I'm one of those people, but no one needs to know that there's people dying over here." 

  "Who is dying?" Jiang Cheng asked, opening the door, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. 

  "People, A-Cheng. All over the world." He improvised, letting go of the plate he was holding quickly. 

  "Thought it was someone in your family for you to be awake at this hour." He looked at his phone, checking the hours. "Why the hell are you up?" 

  "I woke up and thought it was good to make breakfast for us.” He showed his tongue to him, turning to the kitchen. "Go take a bath so we can eat." He waved at him. They eat in relative silence, talking about Curió and what was going to happen in the rest of the day while Curió sang her little songs. 

  "So, she is better? She is going back to your house?" Jiang Cheng asked, finishing washing the dishes. 

  "Yeah. One last appointment to the veterinary and she is all good to go. I mean, if she is alright, you know." Nie Huaisang nodded, sipping from his hand-painted cup.

  "Never thought of letting her stay here?" He suggested, eyebrows furrowed as washing his hands. 

  "Never thought of keeping her away from her children." He chuckled, shrugging. "She has to have someone to boss around, A-Cheng." 

  "Just like you." He retorted, rolling his eyes at him. "Don't forget to tell me what happened in the appointment, yeah?"

  "Don't even worry about it." He said, nodding again as his roommate passed by him. In the end, Curió was fine and ready to go back to her home and her babies. Both Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang headed back to Qinghe with Curió and were happy when they saw her flying to join the other birds on the Nie' s terrarium. 

  "So, that 's it. She 's back. Want ice cream?" Nie Huaisang turned to him, hands on his pockets, at the same time Jiang Cheng said. 

  "Can we come visit them?" 

  "Yeah, A-Cheng, we can come visit them." He smiled, open and bright. 

  “Can I kiss you?” He asked quickly as if not to lose his courage. Instead of answering, Nie Huaisang threw himself at him, arms hugging his neck as they kissed. It was chaste, sweet and not near a proper kiss as Nie Huaisang couldn’t stop smiling. “What about that ice cream?”

  “You are paying.” He laughed, pulling him out of the terrarium, still smiling wide and soon Jiang Cheng too was smiling and blushing. Later none of them quite believed that it took poor Curió to bring them together, having both of them parenting her the way she parented the other birds. So, yeah, both of them loved that sassy bossy bird they had. 

[corpse--diem]

Haunted Hallways | Jasmine & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @halequeenjas & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Jasmine shows Erin around a new apartment when they’re interrupted by an old friend.

It was interesting how time could keep moving and stand still all at the same time. Weeks had gone by since her world had all but gone up in flames but the world kept going. Still pushed forward. So Erin had to keep moving with it, and by the time the opportunity came to look for a new apartment, it made all the sense in the world to jump on it. Nic and Skylar had been more than gracious allowing her to stay with them as long as they had but she needed her space. Always had. Especially now, given that some lunatic felt comfortable just waltzing in and burning down buildings she frequently inhabited. The door was already open when she approached the apartment building her new realtor, a Ms. Jasmine Hale, had picked out. From the outside, the place seemed nice enough. Seemed like a place she could exist, at first glance, even if only temporarily. “Hello?” She called out, knocking on the open door before she saw the other woman. Greeting her with a smile, Erin reached out her hand. “Jasmine?” She asked tentatively. “Erin Nichols. It’s nice to meet you, finally! Sorry, I hope I’m not too late. The fog out there is extra wicked today. I had to take my time getting here,” she apologized with a crinkle of her nose.

As Jasmine had rushed up to the apartment she was showing her new client, she was grateful Erin had yet to arrive. One of the stupid floating fish had been circling her Jag and she wasn’t about to become some fish’s dinner. Being late was never a good look for a professional and she wasn’t in the business of wasting people’s time. Just as she was about to head up and place some wards around and scope out the scene, she heard her name. Crap. She threw on her megawatt smile anyway and extended her hand to shake. “Yes, it’s me. Good to meet you in person, Erin.” This fog did really put a damper on the whole driving thing and the fish were weird. With a laugh, she responded, “Oh yeah, the fog is a doozy. Really uncharacteristic for it to be this thick, but better to drive safely.” She kept her face bright and smile winning to not give way to the nerves that were boiling underneath. Larry Bob was likely to show his pathetic, scraggly face to blow this rental for her. She had to hide the horrified look on her face as she opened the door and saw the stripes. She could spin this. “As you can see, this place is really into modern decor, but I think the floor plan and price here is what the real winner is.”

Jasmine was as chirpy and bright as Erin expected any good realtor to be. Not unpleasantly, though, like how an overzealous salesperson could drown you in big grins and enthusiasm. Jasmine was teeming with all of that stuff too, that much was obvious, but Erin could still breathe. She appreciated that. “Good to meet you too--” Erin started, the smile she returned drooping into a slacked jaw she couldn’t stop. Black and white stripes. Everywhere. “Christ,” she mumbled under her breath, the unexpected bold lines making her squint. There was something innately familiar about this scene she couldn’t put her finger on. Probably saw something like it in a magazine at one point. “Modern decor is…” she started, shrugging when nothing positive came to mind immediately. “Well, it’s something, alright. Definitely not my area of expertise.” Didn’t find a lot of that in a funeral home, that was for sure. With a chuckle, she raised an eyebrow in Jasmine’s direction but slowed her movements until she came to a complete stop, gesturing towards the stripes that felt like they were swallowing them whole the farther they went. “I’ve got to be honest, if the apartment looks anything like this hallway, I’m going to save you the trouble and stop the tour right now. This is…” she grimaced, shaking her head. “Like, a lot.”

Modern decor was one of her personal areas of expertise, but this definitely wasn’t it. Still, Jasmine could spin this. They’d both driven all the way out here in the crazy fog and from the video tour, the apartment itself looked darling. “I’ll admit, the exterior is a little loud for my tastes, but that’s not where most people spend a lot of their time… well, unless you like hanging in hallways but that seems weird so,” she explained with a shrug as she led them to the unit in question. Internally, she pleaded that they hadn’t decided to redecorate the interior of the unit as well. As she opened the door to the apartment, she let out a breath of relief. Totally normal just as she had planned. “See, definitely different from the hallway. I think too many buildings are trying to be trendy nowadays, but the floorplan here is amazing. You’ve got all this open space, but let’s take a look around. I always like to end with the kitchen-- if it turns out they didn’t clean something right, you don’t wanna deal with the smell the whole time you’re perusing the place.”

Oh, thank God. This whole set-up was a temporary solution--somewhere to stay while Erin waited for the insurance to kick in and the (hopeful) rebuilding to start. But even temporarily staring at an apartment that looked like the hallway was absolutely out of the question. “Oh, no, you’re so right. This is great,” she exclaimed with genuine surprise and relief. Way better than the other apartments she’d found looking on her own, anyway. “I honestly don’t need anything too fancy. If everything goes to plan, this should be temporary. I should mention that, shouldn’t I? And it’s just me and my cat, anyway. Well, and sometimes my boyfriend, but I’m usually at his place. Indoor pool guy--need I say more?” She raised a playful brow, grinning. “Pets are okay too, right?” She asked, though her attention drifted to the windows in the living room. Not a great view she determined, but not bad either. Decent enough for temporary. What felt like a small gust of wind moved past her--barely detectable if it wasn’t for the temperature. Like someone had opened a freezer right in her face. “Oh, is it always this cold? How’s the heating?” she asked, turning to Jasmine again, following closely behind as she did her thing.

There was a bright smile on her face as she saw Erin look around seemingly happy. Jasmine knew this would be a perfect spot. Nice open floor plan, decent storage space, a nice view from the window-- and for a fair price? Who wouldn’t love this place? If she wasn’t already living in her perfect waterfront home on Harris Island, she’d have snagged this place up. “I do try to make it a habit of being right,” she joked although if she was being honest, she actually meant that statement. “I think this might be the spot for you then. Not overly fancy, but still very comfortable and a practical price. And wait… isn’t indoor pool guy the one who eats water with his cereal?” Men really needed to be stopped sometimes. Water in cereal when milk wasn’t even expensive. It was definitely gross and she definitely judged him a little for it. Still, she recovered with a laugh and said, “But indoor pool. Sure it makes staying there more fun.” She’d looked over the details carefully before showing this place even if she did somehow miss the striped hallway. “Yep, cats are totally welcome! They don’t even charge pet rent,” she answered as she felt a familiar cold sensation. Oh no. She swore she would throw Larry Bob out of existence as she cursed under her breath. She clutched the bag of salt in her purse and looked around carefully only to be shocked to find a ghost that was surprisingly not Larry Bob. “Oh my god, I totally have to show you the bathtub. It’s right over there,” she gestured and quickly threw a dash of salt at the tacky ghost in the Hawaiian shirt. Who dodged her. Of freaking course!

It’d been a few years since Erin had lived in an apartment on her own, and while the circumstances that had brought her here weren’t ideal, it was a little exciting. Something of her own again. Something that wasn’t passed down and filled with ghosts of a family that no longer lived there. This could be hers, for as little or as long as she had, and the thought was a welcome one. Jasmine’s upbeat attitude had a refreshing grounding nature to it. She liked her already. “Ah. You remember that, huh?” she laughed quietly, shaking her head. “The one and the same. Bit of a dumbass--I think the water cereal speaks for itself on that. But he’s a good one,” she said, a teasing fondness in her tone. Good. Betty could live peacefully here too no problem. At this point, she had little doubt about whether or not she would be taking the place. She could picture her curled up at the large window, Nic frying up eggs in the kitchen--oh, she wanted to see the kitchen next. God, it was freezing in here though. Holding her arms against herself, she followed Jasmine, turning her head sharply at the exclamation about the bathtub. “Oh, yeah. Sure,” she nodded, narrowing her eyes.

“Missed me, bitch.”

Was someone else here? A squatter, maybe? The familiar voice, that deep-throated chuckle shook her immediately. She knew that voice somehow. Her mind jumped to Roy and his goons. Was he seriously watching her this intently? How? “Jasmine?” She called out, slowly reaching for the knife in her purse. “Everything alright in--” She saw the bowl of fruit flying straight at them as she turned the corner to the kitchen. An apple smacking her shoulder when she turned and cowered away and that hearty laugh echoed through the apartment.

“Oh hell yeah. That’s what I’m talking about,” the voice boomed. Erin saw the loud Hawaiian shirt first, covered with dry blood that had soaked down from the side of his head. There was still a gash from the baseball bat she had nailed hi No, no, no. This--this wasn’t happening. Dale was dead. Dale was not standing there in her soon to be new kitchen. “...Dale?” His eyes turned dark when they fell on hers. “Miss me, sweetheart?” His grin was as sharp and vile as she remembered, and without missing a beat, he sent one of the pans hanging for show beside the stove hurtling their way.

If it wasn’t Larry Bob, apparently it was some other jackass in a Hawaiian shirt trying to crash her showings. Seriously? Jasmine was fuming now and wanted to smack this ghost into whatever ether it was supposed to be in. She had been pretty sure Erin went to go check out the bathroom, so she was surprised when he asked if she missed him. “I don’t even know you, you absolute creep,” she retorted with a glare on her face as she quickly reached into her bag for her iron rod. The familiar chill had never been comforting to her, but she wouldn’t lose her resolve to a ghost in a tacky shirt.

She saw him ready to throw and apple and her head whipped back to follow it. It clearly wasn’t aimed at her and she gasped when she saw Erin there. Shit. How was she supposed to explain this? “I’m so,” she started but quickly had to dodge a pan. There was a loud crash as it fell to the floor after colliding into the wall. “Oh hell no,” she grumbled, standing taller this time and charging toward the ghost. “You were not invited to this and I don’t know who the hell you think you are. I’d get out of here before I exorcise you out of existence. I know it must be hard to move on stuck in that awful shirt, but trust me, it’s better than what I’ll do to you.” She raced forward ready to whack him with the iron rod, but he dodged out the way, causing her to stumble forward.

Was Jasmine trying to apologize for the big ass bald ghost in the kitchen? Dale. Fucking Dale. Erin didn’t understand the how or why but there he was, and she’d be a liar if the word zombie didn’t cross her mind again. Because here he was, live and in color. She was still trying to wrap her head around it when Jasmine went on the attack. “Jasmine, don’t--” Erin started, but she was insulting the clothes on his back and charging at him anyway. Exorcise? Did she just say exorcise? Sounded like some Blanche-flavored ghost bullshit she wanted nothing to do with. “Don’t worry lady, you’ll have your turn,” he growled, giving Jasmine a good kick from behind after she stumbled forward.

Erin ran forward out of instinct after her, stopping in her tracks when Dale turned around only feet from her now. His smile wicked, verging into a sneer. “Been a while, huh?” He asked, reaching for anything close. Both of their eyes widened for different reasons when he managed to get a hold of a display knife out of it’s holding block. Erin stepped back with every step forward, shaking her head. “No, no, no--you’re dead,” was all she could manage. She was sure of it - she’d burned his body and that ugly blood stained shirt herself. This wasn’t possible. There shouldn’t have been a body to come back, even if this was some sort of zombie situation. But here he was anyway, swinging the blade at her. She stumbled on the pan that he’d tossed earlier, falling back when another swing of his arm narrowly missed. Grabbing it, she used it as a shield when the blade came down, leaving a dent. Fuck. Yep. Didn’t matter how at this point. He was very much real. “Jasmine!” Erin hollered for help, clambering backwards.

The kick in the back she got from this ghosty asshole as she moved forward hurt, but Jasmine wasn’t about to let this rando spirit ruin this showing. She quickly recovered and tightened her grip on the iron rod. A horrified look crossed her face as she realized Erin was charging toward the ghost who was clearly still stuck in a mid life crisis without any salt or iron. “Don’t,” she called out, but it was too late. She was already in range of the Danny Devito knock off and now he was picking up a knife. She swore she’d banish him from existence right now if he used that knife on Erin. That was a $400 chef’s knife and he’d ruin it. Or worse, it’d be stuck in evidence forever. “Hey, asshole, over here,” she called out as she reached out for the salt on the counter. “Maybe next time you choose to haunt a place, stay out of the kitchen you absolute buffoon of a ghost!” She threw a dash of salt at him, which had to sting, but he was still with them. Ugh. She tossed the salt to Erin and raised her iron rod, daring this jackass to take her on.

Salt? What the fuck was she supposed to do with this? Erin racked her brain, trying to remember something Blanche had mentioned about it -- but it seemed to work. His physical form wavered just enough for him to drop the knife and let out a hiss. “God, you fucking b--” He hollered, turning his head to Jasmine, the dried blood on the side of his head the most glaring thing. Erin kicked the knife down the hallway, scrambling to sit up before taking Jasmine’s lead. His fist missed Jasmine when another handful of salt burned his corporeal form and he flickered again, like someone trying to blow out a candle. “You both want to die today? That’s fine by me, chickadee. I’ve got all the time in the fucking world,” he practically snarled, grabbing for Jasmine once he got a hold of himself again.  

It seemed Erin didn’t hesitate too long on the salt. Small miracles were still miracles, but anger rose in Jasmine the moment he grabbed hold of her again. “Oh, hell no. Get your ugly ghost hands off my blouse,” she yelled as she kept her grip solid on the iron rod in her left hand and stabbed it through him. There was something nausea-inducing in the feeling of an iron rod going through his very much solid form, but she could feel that he was a ghost. Plus, the salt had worked on him. The iron did, too, and soon enough after some choice words he faded away. She let out the breath she had been holding before straightening her jacket and blouse and turning to Erin. “Okay, excuse my French here, but what the fuck,” she exclaimed. “It’s clear you know Mr. Wannabe Tommy Bahama over here, so what’s the deal?”

Ghost. Erin definitely heard the word ghost come out of Jasmine’s mouth. Fuck that. Fuck ghosts. Fuck Dale. Thankfully Jasmine shared the same sentiments. With wide-eyes, she watched as he practically dissolved before her eyes, gone as quickly and violently as he’d come. Something told her he wasn’t gone-gone though. The room was still as cold as it had been before, like a slightly wind chill nipping at her skin. Erin shifted uncomfortably, straightening her clothes as she tried to think of an adequate explanation. “He, uh--” Erin cleared her throat, shaking her head. “He was an old co-worker. It didn’t… you know. End well,” she nodded. That was all she needed to know, right? Her eyes narrowed at Jasmine. “How did you know he was a ghost? He was--” she held out a hand, tapping her forearm with her pointer finger. “Tangible. He could hold stuff. I thought they weren’t supposed to do that.”

It dawned on her that she said ghost outloud and Jasmine mentally cursed herself. Thankfully Erin didn’t find the concept to be too far fetched. At the mention of him being an old coworker, she immediately had a kindred feeling. Funny enough, they both had old coworkers as ghosts following them around. “Funny, I’ve got a pain in the ass coworker that’s a ghost, too. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to see yours. I just happened to be ‘blessed’ with the gift of seeing ghosts… and of getting rid of them. Since you’re not totally running for the hills, I’m an exorcist.” At the question of being tangible, she grumbled. She was thoroughly over this whole ghosts being solid thing. “I don’t know what’s going on there, but it’s a thing right now. Ghosts seem to be solid some of the time and I’m not loving it. So no, he’s not supposed to be able to do that and you shouldn’t have been able to see him.” Realizing this ghost had it out for her, she added, “Whatever place you move into, I’m throwing up some wards for you.” Talk about full service realty.

Jasmine’s words did little to comfort Erin, and it was even less of a relief to know that Dale was probably hanging around with her long before this. That cold feeling wasn’t entirely new--just something she’d shrugged off on more than one occasion. Awesome. Her heart was in the process of dropping to her stomach as Jasmine spoke, only perking up at ‘exorcist’. “Right,” she drawled with a hint of unintentional skepticism in her voice. “I hope yours at least shopped at places that weren’t tacky beach gift shops,” she murmured, trying to lighten the tightness suddenly enveloping her chest. Didn’t work as well as she’d hoped. “All I know is that they exist. I’ve never seen one before. Ever,” She said with a sigh, running a frustrated hand through her hair. Is that what Blanche had to endure on a daily basis? She couldn’t blame her for her freakouts if that was the case. “If he’s not supposed to be like that, then how is he like that? And do they always--uh, you know. Look like that?” She gestured towards her head, a reference to the bloody crack in his skull. The one Erin had put there months and months ago. Her heart beat hard again and she started to pick up the dented pan and knife at her feet, wincing at the scuff marks on both. Her eyes filled with fear, jumping back up to Jasmine. “He’s not going to come back, is he?”

It was evident to Jasmine that Erin wasn’t exactly comfortable with this news. Not that she could blame her. It was likely that this tacky ghost had been following her around for longer than she’d known which was far from comforting. “Worse, when he’s off work, he had crocs in 10 different colors,” she joked to keep the mood from getting too heavy. Of course Erin had never seen a ghost before. It wasn’t a gift that most people had and had to be alarming if you weren’t entirely used to it. Hell, even she was alarmed from time to time. “That makes sense, I’m not sure why people can see them now and why they’re solid. Probably some bigger White Crest bullshit like the fog and the mimes. But yeah, they do usually look like that. Well, not that specifically, but any injuries that killed them are still there as a ghost. Not always pretty, but to be fair, I don’t think your guy here was all that pretty to look at when he was alive either.” Jasmine started tidying up a little bit and put the knife back in its rightful spot. Dale had really come in and made a mess of the kitchen. At least no one was hurt. “The iron will have him gone for at least a few hours. Whatever place you pick, I’ll put wards up. Actually, wherever you’re currently staying should have wards, too. It keeps them out.”

Erin tried to laugh at the joke Jasmine volleyed back at her but it came out more like a stunted, heavy breath. “He sounds like the worst kind of person, honestly,” she said a bit distantly, her brow raised in harsh skepticism. Ghosts. Fucking ghosts. Dale’s ghost. It was hard to focus on anything else but those two things right now. How long had he been following her? How the fuck was he solid now suddenly? Skipping town and going into hiding, putting this place behind her just kept looking better and better every day. “Aren’t we just… super lucky to live in a town like this?” She asked, teeth tight against her smile and her fist slightly clenched. God, she was tired. But for all the nonsense they’d just experienced, this apartment fortunately looked just as good as it had before things got weird. “Oh, yeah, please. I’ll take all the wards you can possibly give me. Anything you’ve got. Like, I will personally pay you extra just for the wards,” she said, finally letting out a long breath, trying to think of anything but the sound of her baseball bat crunching skull bone or that toothy grin. He was gone. They were fine. For now. “But that asshole sure as hell isn’t going to stop me from missing out on a great apartment.” She paused a beat, nodding towards Jasmine, a gentler smile finding its way to the surface. “I’ll take it.”

[riviae]

what if geralt catches regis looking in the mirror, tells him to close his eyes, and starts softly touching different parts of his face and describing them to him. or he has someone paint a portrait for him to look at instead ;_; im sorry your post made me sappy

It became an odd habit of sorts–checking his nonexistent reflection in the mirror–Regis realizes as he brushes off specks of dust from his jerkin. The standing-length mirror situated in the corner of his crypt had been a bit of an inside joke at first–he was already a vampire living in a cemetery, after all; what was stopping him from indulging in a few more lighthearted jokes? He already felt a secret pleasure at the garlands of garlic and collection of silver utensils he kept in his makeshift abode, so it was only in due time that he picked up an antique mirror from one of the stalls in the Beauclair marketplace, careful to keep the glass wrapped in a heavy, dark green fabric until it safely passed the threshold of his home. 

And so the mirror remained, half-hidden in a dusty corner of the mausoleum, a few stray candles on a nearby table offering only a meager flicker of light. Not that Regis needed the candles either, but candles were a very human invention and one the vampire knew made humans feel just a little bit safer. Even if his only human visitor nowadays was Geralt, a witcher who could see perfectly fine in the dark, he had grown accustomed to the warm orange glow, the way the tiny beacons of light reminded him of his time spent amongst humans, learning and growing into the person he was today. 

Just as Regis moves to adjust the cuffs of his shirt, he hears it: a familiarly slow heartbeat and with it, the faintest whiff of blood. Not Geralt’s, thankfully, but as the witcher grew closer, Regis could tell that he had recently bathed and cleaned his armor–it was his swords that carried the scent of old blood–both monster and human–a scent that could never be washed out completely. The swords had spilled so much blood despite Geralt’s best attempts at pacifism. He was a kind-hearted man by nature, but he knew when his only option was to kill. 

“Hey,” the witcher greets, an easy grin upon his face. He meets his own gaze in the mirror before his eyes dart to the vampire. “Hmm… thought you hated mirrors.” 

Regis turns away from the mirror, giving the witcher a fond look. “I hate that I have to avoid them. It’s the same with dogs, sorcerers, and telepaths–I have no hatred for them, I just dislike that I must go out of my way to avoid them.” 

“I remember us having this conversation before. Think that was the first time I saw you really smile.” 

“Is that so?” Regis begins, “Your memory is impeccable as always.” 

“Only for certain things. Certain people,” Geralt replies, giving a tired shrug of his shoulders. 

The admission, no matter how casual, sends a pleasant thrum of warmth through the vampire. For a man allegedly devoid of emotions, Geralt had quite a way of expressing them. Regis didn’t bother hiding his teeth as he smiled, lips pulling into a wide, happy grin. 

“Careful with those fangs. Someone’s bound to notice,” Geralt teases.

“The only prying eyes here are the dead so I don’t think I have much to worry about.” With a lighthearted roll of his eyes, Regis turns back to the mirror, fiddling with his cuffs yet again. 

Geralt’s voice suddenly sounds distant–but perhaps that isn’t the right word. Regis knows what grief sounds likes, the hollowness of it, the way it echoes in the emptiness of what was lost; the witcher’s voice sounds bereaved, but there’s an underlying fondness to it. It’s reminiscent; hopeful, even. “Remember when we first got to Beauclair? How everyone crowded into your room to get ready for the banquet?” 

Regis huffs out a laugh. “How could I forget? Angouleme came in brandishing a pair of garden shears and asked me to cut her hair.” 

“You even humored everyone with your floating scissors routine.” 

Regis grew silent, unable to stop the flurry of memories that Geralt’s words had conjured up. 

There was Milva begrudgingly slinking into the chair in front of the mirror to let Regis trim her bangs, expression softening as the rhythmic motions of having her hair cut lulled her into a light doze. When she stirred, she gave Regis a serious look and thanked him for his services. Whether she knew that the vampire had noticed her slipping out into the stables near the palace to cry at night, had noticed the tired bags under her eyes, and had helped her fall asleep peacefully for the first time in weeks, Regis wasn’t sure, but he did know that it wasn’t long until Milva began saving him a seat beside her during breakfast. 

There was Cahir, usually silent and pensive, who suddenly showed a polite interest in all things related to Regis’ culture as a higher vampire. It was a unique parallel that they shared, both being sojourners in lands they did not belong to. Beauclair was as close to home as Cahir had been since Ciri–and then Geralt–had spared his life despite his connections to the Nilfgaardian Empire. Perhaps he had simply been feeling homesick as he sat in front of Regis’ mirror, invisible hands carefully trimming the are of his head where an axe nearly severed his scalp from his skull. 

Even Dandelion had stopped by his room at some point, waxing poetic about the Duchess while Regis ran a brush through the musician’s long, blond curls. Their conversation drifted easily from topic to topic, spanning the arts and politics until undoubtedly returning to news about their company. Dandelion had always shown a near selfless interest in Geralt’s safety, that much was obvious to Regis, and only solidified that, despite appearances, the man was a genuinely good friend to have. 

Then, his mind drifted to Angouleme. Perhaps the greatest tragedy of Stygga–he preferred to think of happier times, of happier memories, of the lopsided grins and loud laughter that she brought every day to the breakfast table while they wintered in Beauclair. And, of course, her endearing antics, which only increased in creativity when she realized that Regis had no reflection. 

When he finally spoke aloud, his lips twist into a wistful smile. “Ah, that was quite funny, wasn’t it? That was the first time anyone–human, vampire, or otherwise–saw my lack of reflection as interesting, as something to be explored and, dare I say, something endearing about me. I enjoyed having dear Angouleme on my shoulders… even if she did kick me a few times by mistake during her theatrical performance.” Regis pauses, his hands reaching on reflex for the leather strap of his satchel that wasn’t there. Instead, his hands found purchase in the fabric of his jerkin, fingernails scraping harmlessly against the surface. “You know, I would do it all again. Even knowing what I do now, knowing how this all eventually ends, I wouldn’t trade my time with our little rag-tag group for the world.” 

“Neither would I,” Geralt affirms, reaching over to squeeze Regis’ shoulder. The vampire was acutely aware of how his touch lingered there, the warmth and weight that radiated from the man’s simple comforting gesture. 

The reflection in the mirror shows only the witcher, one hand stretched out into the dark, grasp loose and empty. 

“It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?” Regis says. “It’s like I’m not even here. Without a reflection, it almost looks as if you’re talking to a ghost. It was difficult after Stygga to piece my body back together. Even with Dettlaff’s help… I was, well, I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but I was convinced for some time that I was truly dead. There was nothing left of me aside from my consciousness. And once I did grow strong enough to begin the arduous process of becoming flesh and blood again, I had no real memory of myself to work with. I could only build back my appearance based on how I’ve heard other people describe me, of how Dettlaff described me when I was naught but a bloody smear in a dish.” 

“Well, I think you did a good job,” Geralt replies, watching his own reflection as he–almost as if driven by instinct, some vestigial trait from the few vampire genes that were added to his mutated genome–reached up to gently cup the right side of Regis’ face. He knew exactly where Regis was, knew him well enough to reach out while his gaze remained fixed on the mirror, as if he was actually there beside him in the glass. It was only when he spoke again that he met Regis’ eyes, voice barely above a rumble. “You look a bit older, a bit more world-weary, but I recognized you immediately.” 

Regis immediately leaned into the touch. Here, in the privacy of the crypt, he allowed himself a brief respite. He had spent so long trying to hide parts of himself, to hide the parts of himself that had realized long ago that he had fallen for the witcher. But now, after all the weighty events they had lived through, Regis was tired–and this, the warm hand on his face, the feeling of a sword-callused thumb rubbing absentmindedly at the high point of his cheekbone… it threatened to undo him entirely. He knew Geralt would never so much as point his sword at him now, unable to even think about harming him despite his relative immortality–and yet, the steady, consistent thrum of affection he felt for the witcher? It sometimes felt like it was cutting him to pieces, reshaping him into something that would rather turn into a pillar of ash than never see Geralt again–but it also felt a lot like love. Adoration. A warmth in his chest at the sight of the white-haired witcher, gold eyes lidded in contentment whenever his gaze wandered over to Regis. 

“It’s really a shame you can’t see yourself,” Geralt says, hand drifting into Regis’ hair, gently combing a few dark grey locks behind his ear. “But I can help… if you’d let me.” 

Regis inhaled sharply, unable to do anything but give a shaky nod of his head, mind spinning. He feared what he might say, what tightly-held secrets he’d divulge for Geralt alone, his thoughts centering upon a simple mantra: I’m not alone in these feelings–I can’t be…

Geralt’s thumb traces the edge of the vampire’s brow almost reverently and Regis can’t help but shiver at the touch. “You’ve got dark, thick eyebrows mixed with a bit of grey and silver. It suits you. You didn’t always have as much grey in your hair as you do now… but I like it. Feels right, somehow.” 

The witcher’s hand drifts to the corner of the vampire’s left eye, index finger curled underneath a few black lashes of his bottom eyelid. “Your eyes are dark–almost as black as your eyelashes. It isn’t easy to see the separation between your iris and pupil. It makes it difficult to tell what’s going on in that head of yours sometimes, but I like that. Sometimes it’s too easy to read people. Ah, and you’ve always had a very obvious set of crow’s feet in the corner of your eyes. It just means you’ve smiled plenty. That you’ve been happy, and that even subconsciously, you were aware of the happiness you felt, that you let it show on your face after regenerating.” 

He continued, stepping away for only a moment, as if he were trying to put Regis’ entire visage to memory. As if this would be the only time he would get to see him like this again: unguarded, open, hopeful, a vulnerable side that clashed so obviously with his near immortality as a higher vampire. Geralt smiled, drawing closer yet again. “Hmm… your features all together make you look aristocratic. Like I’d see a painting of you in a castle. You’ve got an impressively crooked nose and a sharp jaw. Your cheekbones are high too and you’ve got a few wrinkles on your forehead that make you look distinguished. You’re stunning–you’ve always been stunning. ”

“Geralt…” Regis breathes, tone bordering desperation. “Please…” 

Wordlessly, Geralt closed the gap between them with a kiss, hands cupping Regis’ face. The vampire encircled his arms around Geralt’s shoulders, closing his eyes as he felt the tension in his body disappear. There was only the touch of Geralt’s lips against his own, the warmth of his hands against his cheeks, and the heart-tugging realization that he was truly home. It didn’t matter where he was, so long as Geralt was with him. Because Geralt knew him, knew all of him–the dark, the ugly, the cowardly, the parts of himself that kept him teetering on the edge of relapse–and still loved him. 

It had always been Geralt who saw him–the one person he trusted to be his mirror, to help him see the parts of himself that were worth loving. And it had made all the difference. 

[professional-benaddict]

Starker Britain, 1938 AU

Tony, 18+ Peter, interwar period, Britain, chronic illness, doctors and exams, May and Richard Parker alive but absent, soft pxrn, 2.7k

For the mood boards here

Tag list: @carey-roza @annoyingcatto @strawberryparkers @starker-3000 @starkerprince @urfavisastarker @misssecretstudenttree @80zmdewrit3rbabe

It took two nurses and a very determined doctor to get Peter to breathe, and scream, when he was first born on a very hot and dry August day in 1920. Ever since that day, breathing has been a struggle for the boy and the blue tint in his skin when he was just a babe still lingers on his fingernails, around his eyes and on his lips till this day. Some would have thought that having a sickly son would make Richard and Mary Parker want to spend time with their only child, but in reality it had the opposite effect and made the pair hide away from the son, using work as an excuse. Some would say that it was no excuse at all, however, as Britain needed everyone to do their part to rebuild their homeland after the Great War. And, with another war building up in the Eastern horizon, international relations are not the only ones turning tense, but also family relations and the Parker family is no exception. Richard is called back to do his duty for his country as a Major, while Mary has to start training hundreds of new nurses to treat the wounded soldiers that are coming, which is her duty as head nurse at the hospital in town.

Peter’s parents are so rarely around the Parker estate, so Peter is left alone in the huge house with the maids, his books and Gladstone, a rough looking, but kind hearted English bulldog. Peter finds enormous comfort in his pet, as well as some irony in them both struggling to breathe. Besides petting Gladstone and reading books, Peter looks forward to his weekly visit from the family doctor, Tony Stark. The doctor is American, and even after all these years, Peter is still incredibly intrigued by the way the doctor talks and moves. The boy finds the older man very exotic and endlessly fascinating and always has a list of at least a dozen questions that he has prepared to ask the doctor when he arrives at 1pm on Thursday. The list includes mostly questions about how life is in America, but sometimes also about technology and medicine. 

“Thank you, Hogan.” Tony smiles, stepping out of the car with his medical bag in one hand. The driver gives a wordless nod and exists the car as well to go and have his usual smoke as he waits for the doctor to return on one of the benches in the large garden surrounding the Parker estate. 

Before heading in to see his patient, Tony usually always makes a quick stop by the stables, offering the happily nickering horses sugar cubes from the palm of his hand. The doctor has always been fond of horses. It reminds him of home back in America. But, to his disappointment and confusion, Tony finds none of the Parker’s three horses to be in the stables, which is odd to say the least. Waving a greeting to one of the gardeners, Tony heads down the gravel road to the back of the building instead of taking the steps leading up to the front door. 

“Afternoon, Doc.” The gardener smiles widely, showing the gap between his front teeth as he pushes his hat further back on his head to meet the doctor’s eyes. “Back so soon?” 

“It’s Thursday.” Tony points out with a chuckle. He always comes on Thursdays.

“Oh, right, right, silly ol’ me. This summer heat has been getting to my head, I fear.” The gardener huffs, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. 

“You be careful, Barry, the heat is not to be messed with.” The doctor says, his voice a bit sharp with concern for the hardworking older man. Just like the doctor, the gardener has been serving the Parker’s for decades now. The gardener tips his hat with a grin and says his thanks before excusing himself to continue tending to the flower beds. But, the doctor does not let him go just yet. 

“I couldn’t help but notice that the horses are all gone. Have they gotten sick?” 

“Oh, the army came and took them, Doc.” The gardener says. Tony nods thoughtfully and thanks Barry before heading off, adjusting his hold on his bag and continuing ahead till he reaches the backdoor of the kitchen. 

The kitchen is surprisingly quiet, so Tony guesses that the maids and kitchen staff have just finished with lunch and are taking a break. Setting his bag down on the counter, the doctor peels off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt before washing his hands thoroughly. By the time he is done, one of the maids enters the kitchen and startles with a little yelp. 

“Oh, it’s you Doctor Stark! I didn’t hear you come in.” The maid squeaks out and resumes what she came to do by setting a tray down on the counter. 

“Afternoon, Emily. Was that Peter’s lunch you just brought back?” The doctor asks, eyeing the considerable amount of food that is still left on the plate. At least the glass is empty. 

“Yes, Doctor Stark, he hasn’t been eating much, sadly. Major Parker had to cancel his trip home last weekend.” The maid, Emily, replies dutifully. 

“May I see?” Tony asks, extending his hand. Emily nods promptly and goes to one of the cabinets. From behind a large jar of flour, she pulls out a little notebook and hands it to the doctor. Tony accepts it with a ‘thank you’ and flips through the pages, humming thoughtfully as he looks at the newest food logs since his visit the week before. The boy has been eating less and less. “Thank you, Emily. I assume he is in his room?” The doctor says, handing the notebook back to the maid who puts it back in its hiding place. 

“Yes, Doctor. Shall I make some tea for you?” 

“That would be lovely. And some biscuits as well, if you could?” Tony smiles, placing his jacket over his forearm and takes his bag in the other hand before heading upstairs. He greets the maids as he passes them and then pauses by a door, knocking three times and chuckles at the familiar growls coming from behind the door before entering. 

Like always, it is Gladstone who greets him, or rather comes to inspect to decide whether to let him enter his master’s bedroom. The bulldog has never bitten anyone, although he is fully capable of doing so and gets that point across with his growls and rough huffs as he blocks the way into the room. 

“Hey, boy, will you let me in?” Tony chuckles and crouches down to let the dog smell his hand. After a sniff and another growl, the bulldog waddles back to his owner, using the seat at the bottom of the bed to climb back up to join his master on the queen sized bed. The doctor knows that he has been granted access and closes the door behind him. 

With the thin and light silk curtains drawn, the large bedroom bathes in the gentle and pale yellow light that the midday sun casts. Everything looks peaceful and quiet and the curtains dance lightly in the gentle breeze coming through the open balcony door. The doctor is pleased to know that the boy is at least following some of his advice. Having all the windows and doors shut would just make his breathing worse. 

Turning his attention to the bed, Tony finds Peter on his back, sleeping peacefully. Or as peacefully as he can with his slightly laboured breathing. The boy’s chest rises and falls a little too fast for the doctor’s liking, but at least it is even. He must have fallen asleep just a moment ago since the maid was just here. Tony hates the fact that he will have to wake the boy, but it is a necessary evil. 

“Peter…” Tony starts gently, sitting next to his patient on the bed and taking his delicate hand into his own, feeling his pulse under his fingertips. “Peter.” 

The boy stirs slowly, blinking his eyes a few times, but does not open them yet. He huffs a little, his lips curling into a soft smile at the familiar and comforting sound of his doctor, whom he has known his entire life. The doctor was actually the one who held him even before his mother did when he was first born. 

“Hi…” Peter murmurs, not opening his eyes yet, but tilts his head towards Tony. The doctor feels how the boy’s hand tightens its grip in his, like an infant does on reflex. 

“Hi.” Tony replies softly. “Won’t you open your pretty eyes for me?” 

Finally the boy obliges and cracks his eyes open so that honey brown eyes meet darker brown ones. Peter feels his heart flutter just a bit at the warm smile that Tony returns him. He traces the smile lines in the older man’s face with his eyes for a split second. One can easily tell that Doctor Stark is a kind doctor based on those smile lines. 

“Have you had trouble sleeping too?” Tony asks, getting to business. Peter frowns at him and coughs a little before placing his hand on Gladstone’s square-shaped head. The dog hums in content and settles his head down on his master’s hip to be pet. 

“Too? Have the maids told on me?” The boy asks with a quiet chuckle. Tony notices the sad undertone in the sound in an instant. He does not even need to ask to know that the boy is quite disappointed with his father for canceling his weekend trip home, again. At least his mother does not make any promises, so she does not end up breaking them either. 

“Yes, Emily tells me that you haven’t been eating properly. Must I stress to you once more how important it is that you at least maintain your current weight?” 

“Don’t waste your breath.” Peter shoots back, a playful grin on his face as he looks at the doctor pull out the stethoscope from his bag. It is still the same bag that Tony had with him when he got the message that Mary Parker had started labour and delivered Peter into the world. That was now nearly 20 years ago. But, the stethoscope is a new one. Tony rolls his eyes at the cheeky response. Snarkiness is a good thing. It means that the patients still have some fight in them. 

“Speaking of, how has you breathing been?” Tony asks, putting the earpieces in place after unbuttoning the soft and white cotton tunic that the boy is wearing. Peter of course lays back and lets the doctor do as he pleases, keeping his gaze fixed on Tony’s eyes as he places the diaphragm on his vulnerable and ghostly pale chest. 

“Not any better, nor any worse.” Peter says, coughing weakly and clearing his throat. 

“The same?” Tony rephrases, placing the chest-piece just under Peter’s left nipple. 

“The same.” Peter repeats, still keeping his eyes fixed on the doctor. 

The rest of the check up goes by like always with Tony checking the boy’s temperature, blood pressure, eyes and throat all the while Peter tells the doctor about the books he has finished since the last visit. The finished books include two different ones on botany and three of Doyle’s detective novels. Sometime during Peter’s summary of the second botany book, Gladstone had hopped down from the bed and trotted to the balcony to growl at the gardener down below. 

“‘The Hound of Baskerville’ again?” The doctor asks, putting away his medical instruments now that he has finished the exam. Only one thing remains now. 

“Yes, again! It is the best one I have ever read.” Peter replies, and it is hard for Tony to argue with that. The boy’s knowledge about literature is far greater than his own and after many heated, yet friendly discussions, he was wise enough to stop questioning the boy about literature when he was ten. “Is not Doyle famous in America?” 

“I am not sure. It has been decades since I have been home.” Tony muses, taking out the neat case with the glass syringe from his bag. Without needing to prompt him to, Peter turns over on his side, pushing the expensive cotton sheets and his underwear down to expose his plump ass. The boy’s voice is slightly muffled when he speaks. 

“Because you’ve been here.” 

“Because I have been here.” Tony replies softly, readying the syringe and shushes the boy gently when he sticks the thick, metal needle into the plumpest part of the boy’s ass. Whimpering quietly, Peter tries his hardest to not kick and squirm, although he would very much want to. The injections really are dreadful, but he would have a hundred of them to get to converse with the doctor. 

Finally, the doctor pulls the needle out, but the pain is still there, throbbing and demanding Peter’s attention. Tony knows this and sets the syringe aside before rubbing a comforting hand on his patient’s bony hip. Having a tendency to get lightheaded after the injections, Peter needs a few moments to collect himself and Tony provides comfort and sympathy through gentle touches. He brushes back the boy’s curls from his forehead and lets his hand slip down from his hip and to his lower stomach, resting there just above his public bone. It is a wordless question and Peter replies with a shake of his head. 

“Not today, thank you, Doctor Stark.”

“You’re upset about your father.” Tony points out, pulling his hand back to rest on Peter’s hip again. The boy nods, staring right in front of him and watching as the curtains dance in the breeze coming through the open windows again. It smells dry and hot. 

“I’m upset at my father.” Peter corrects, taking a deep breath before continuing. He shifts his hips slightly, allowing the doctor to pull his underwear back up. “They even took Lady.” 

“Hmm, yes, Barry told me. I’m very sorry about that, Peter. I know how much you loved Lady.” 

“Father would have known. Right? He would have known that they were taking everyones’ horses and he could have warned us. But, he chose not to.” 

“It could have been out of his hands, Peter.” Tony points out, but Peter does not respond. The doctor frowns softly, knowing he made a mistake by defending the Major. “Perhaps they will return her. They might have collected too many horses.” 

“Perhaps.” Peter says blandly, not believing the dumb lie at all. He is not a child anymore. Tony of course notices that he has only made the situation worse and backs off a little, letting his hand go from the boy’s hip. But, suddenly Peter grabs his hand and pulls it around his torso and to his mouth, resting the doctor’s fingertips on his lips. 

Tony huffs out a fond little laugh and scoots closer to the boy, so that his thigh is pressed against the boy’s back where he is still laying on his side, facing away from the doctor. The boy’s breaths tickles his skin. He can faintly feel the soft flesh of the boy’s lips, then the soft vibrations when he speaks. 

“Don’t go…” 

“I’m still staying for tea. Emily will bring it up soon.” 

“No, I mean- don’t go.” 

“Where would I go?” 

“To the war.” 

Tony cannot help but scoff out a chuckle at the ridiculousness of the idea. Twisting his hand, the doctor gently presses his thumb to Peter’s bottom lip. 

“Someone has to stay behind to take care of the ones at home too.” 

Tony can feel Peter’s lips curl upwards in a smile at that, however it does not last long before he relaxes the muscles and purses his lips in a kiss to his thumb. Major Parker may have taken Lady, but he had made sure that Tony was not called in to the medical corps. However, the doctor decides against telling Peter that. 

“Because charity starts at home? Like my mother always says.” Peter says, his voice slightly bitter at that, but his lips are soft. 

“Because you are the future.” Tony corrects and moves his hand to cup Peter’s cheek, tilting his head towards him to finally kiss him on the mouth. Gladstone growls and barks widely at the gardener, but the pair in the bed do not pay the pet any mind. 

[garethandjude]

Sam’s Eulogy

Sam’s funeral was 1 year ago today. Writing Sam’s Eulogy was emotionally the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Reading it in the service was beyond me. Jude and I are ever indebted and thankful to Marc for doing this so well on the day.  It read as follows:

I stand before you today, a representative of a family that feel truly blessed to have such amazing support not just through the numbers here but throughout Sam’s journey. Family, friends, the Russell school, social clubs, the medical teams, work colleagues, the whole Chorleywood community and beyond, we are all united in our love, and desire to pay our respects to our wonderful warrior Sam.

Samuel George Hanson, was born in St George’s hospital on St George’s day, the most precious present on his Dad’s birthday. He was instantly welcomed and loved by his brother Rhys and his family. Whether from his brother’s tickles, or the delight of smearing food all over his face, it wasn’t long before he was smiling and chuckling in his unique way, filling our lives with Sammy sized fun.

As a baby and toddler Sam was seldom without a muslin blanket for comfort – Mum and Dad wouldn’t dare leave the house without one. This set a theme for the rest of his short life. The muslin was eventually superseded, by George bear, Sven, Camo. He loved his teddies and each had a name. Over the past few years there was one teddy that Sam would never be without - Rabbity. Rabbity was so precious to Sam that the internet was scoured for an identical backup to be used when Rabbity was washed. Shipped in from the US, Rabitto was always on standby. Rabbity went everywhere with Sam. Every night he cuddled him, during all his stays in hospital, every operation Rabbity was in the theatre with Sam. Up until the very end, right now, and forever – Rabbity will be with Sam to comfort him.

As Sam grew up, some other Sammy traits soon appeared. With his white blond hair, and golden skin he was a beautiful toddler, with a propensity to wear nothing on his feet. Was he destined to be a surfer dude? He had the look. If he could, he would always be barefoot. At a push he would be in crocks, as a last resort trainers. If he went out, shoes and socks were always the last things on and the first things off. When home, he was easy to find as his shoes and socks would leave a Sammy trail from the door to wherever he was going.

As all children should be, Sam was full of life, a little mischievous and very inquisitive. He loved finding crystals in rocks and bringing pretty stones or fossils home. If it sparkled, it got his attention. Was he a budding geologist or was it a palaeontologist? He was encouraged to do it all. Only a few weeks ago he was busy foraging on the beach intently studying what the tide was washing in. Crab shells, dismembered crab claws, pretty shells, he was intrigued by them all and they all went into our bucket to bring home. Maybe he was destined to be an ecologist?

In hospital Sam would relax by watching his favourite movies. Whether they were Disney animations, classics like Oliver or epic compilations like the Lord of the rings, Star wars, DC and Marvel, he enjoyed them all. He also loved dressing up. Inspired by the heroes and villains in all the movies, when he dressed up, his imagination would whisk him away and he became that character. Woody or Buzz, the Gruffalo, a Dinosaur, a Rabbit, Captain Phasma or America, Kylo Ren or Thor. He would boisterously tear around the house in character, wielding his weapon of choice. Rhys was usually the victim and would laugh out loud as Sam battered him with a foam sword or hammer (most of the time!)

There was one costume, more than any other that Sam just loved – his reindeer onesie. He would wear it around the house, camping trips, on visits to the hospital, he even wore it to school. His size 3-4 years was worn until the legs looked like ¾ lengths and the body was skin tight. He didn’t care, he’d say it was snuggly, and it tickled us to see him in it. Sam loved being snuggly and snuggling up to his teddies or under blankets. But if there was some snuggling to be done, top of the list was always snuggling with his Mummy.

Even when Sam was poorly one of the activities he’d still find the strength to do was Nerf battles. If it rained, the battle would be indoors, if it was dry it would be outside with bullet guns or water pistols. When Sam was less mobile, whole house or garden battles were reworked so that Sam could take up a static sniper position, and take pot shots at his victims, family or friends. Rhys has a fond memory of when he and a friend were speaking and playing with some girls in a neighbouring garden. The talk soon became squeals and laughter as Samster the Gangster popped around the edge of the shed, naked, brandishing a water pistol and soaked them all.

When Sam was young he had always been a healthy child. When the family had colds he seemed to be unscathed, but in the autumn of 2015 Sam became pale, he was low on energy, and he had a rash. At first the GP thought it may be viral, but after a couple of weeks nothing had improved and his tummy was starting to swell. By this point the family were fearing this could be something bad but the odds said they should be wrong. A blood test was done on the 1st of December 2015, a day the family will never forget. Sam was diagnosed with Leukaemia and their Sky fell in.

Sam’s journey since then has been a tough one. His beads of courage are a lasting memory to the 100’s of procedures he endured over the 3 and a half years of treatment. He amassed 1,850 beads in all and the family give thanks to the medical staff here today, representing everyone that has worked at every hour of the day to care for Sam during his battle with Leukaemia. He was inspired so much by your commitment and professionalism that he’d said he wanted to grow up to be a nurse. Would that have been his future? Sadly we will never know.

If there is one thing that blossomed in hospital, and epitomises Sam it would be his love for Lego. Over the years we had various activities to fill the time. Card games, dart guns and dart boards, Qixels and crafts. He would enjoy them all but the favourite was definitely LEGO. What started with a small Lego set to help while away the time, grew into a ritual fuelled by both Sam’s and his Dad’s enjoyment of it. If Sam was spending any length of time in hospital he’d be doing Lego. The anticipation and the walk to collect a new set from the Amazon lockers in GOSH were all part of the excitement. The real magic was watching him build; so focussed and determined, his tongue out during the tricky bits. When he completed something, the sense of achievement was always evident on his face - in the big beaming smile. From timid beginnings, he fumbled through his first few sets but soon became a master builder completing multi bag sets intended to last days in just a few hours. If there is one thing that demonstrates how much time Sam spent in hospital, and particularly the months in isolation it would be the size of his Lego collection. On display in his room he was always proud to show it to people.

The last 9 months were particularly tough. The disease and treatment taking its toll. Sam was a third heavier, had lost his hair again, and then grew dark hair back almost everywhere. His hearing was impaired and his legs were weak. He would be unrecognisable to those that had not witnessed the change. But to those that had it was still Sam and he was a fighter, he would get through this. His attitude to all the pokes, prods and procedures was inspirational “let’s just get it over with” he would say. He hated general anaesthetics, but to overcome the fear he developed his own routine of yoga breaths and a snuggle with Mummy or Daddy while he had his sleeping milk and just got it over with. His animated moral – “Never give up” that we are so blessed that he made, will live with us forever. Sam you’re a trooper - thank you for being so brave.

Despite everything he’d been through he was still the cheeky, inquisitive boy we all loved. He always had a willingness to learn and would look forward to his lessons in hospital, at home or in school. Even on days post BMT when his mouth was too sore to speak he still had his lessons, writing or using the iPad to communicate. It would be the highlight of his days only missed if he was asleep.

Sam was doing so well in his treatment, he was winning his battle with leukaemia. He was in remission, his transplant was a success and his diseased white blood cells had been replaced 100% by his brother’s donor cells. His recovery was not without issues, that would, and did make him feel lousy, but the bigger picture was always good and in a few more months he was going to get through this. One day, he was going to ring the bell in Hospital that signified the end of his treatment.

On the 21st March Sam was taken by his parents to Watford because of his rapid breathing. This was thought to be a visit like many other. On the 22nd of March suddenly and unexpectedly Sam’s condition deteriorated and after many hours he was stabilised in Watford and transferred to intensive care in GOSH. Sadly, despite battling his biggest battle and supported by an overwhelming number of people and well-wishers, Sam was never to leave. He passed away peacefully in his parents’ arms on the 4th of April 2019. Sam never got to ring the bell.

Sam didn’t quite make the 8th Birthday that he was so excited about, but during his short time with us has achieved more than many may achieve in a lifetime. In his name, 10’s of thousands of pounds have been raised for charities that have benefited him or his family; CLIC Sargent, Be child cancer aware, Children with Cancer and Spread a Smile. The Radio 5 Live broadcast for the ‘No Isolation’ robot has over a million views and touched thousands of people. The hope is that these contributions may bring unforgettable memories, or lead to new treatments that help save the lives of other children in a similar situation and maybe one day ensure nobody has to endure the loss of a child from Leukaemia. Sam, you should be proud.

Everyone gathered here today has been touched in some way by Sam’s life. It may take a long time for friends and family to adjust, but after the grief and mourning, we will be left with the memories and sparkle that Sam brought to our lives. We will reflect on a life full of amazing adventure, love and bravery. Sam’s courageous battle and attitude should and will inspire us to never give up. We will all miss you Sam but may your star forever shine bright. ⭐

02.05.20

[miraimisu]

Funny/random 6

—

Gladion doesn’t know what to expect when he gets an emergency call from Hau at 4 a.m. in the morning. He’d been barely awake when he picked up the phone, but he recalls the distinct buzz of chatter and laughter in the background of the call and what had sounded like Ilima cheering on to someone that, if Gladion is to trust his instinct and previous experiences, will surely be Moon.

When he reaches Melemele, still half asleep and wearing clothes that don’t match in colors, shirt wrongly put with the front on his back, he hears Hau laughing hysterically at a secluded point of the beach as Moon seemingly builds a cage made of bricks around Ilima’s barely conscious form. She’s about at shoulder’s height when Gladion gets to her.

“What–” Gladion sputters. Moon turns to him, innocent and unknowing. “What exactly are you doing?”

“I’m building a cage.”

“A cage?”

“A cage of bricks.”

“And cement,” points Hau out, earning a soft nod from Moon who, unfazed by Gladion’s presence, dabs a thick layer of cement on the brick and slaps it on top of another. “Ilima and Moon made a bet.”

The Champion (who would surely lose her job if Kukui caught her red-handed) shrugs nonchalantly. “Ilima was all like ‘I bet you can’t cage a Pokémon in’ and I told him that’s abusive, so we resorted to cage him instead. We had to drag him here ‘cause he passed out the second we sealed the deal.” Moon wags her eyebrows. “He’s not gonna see it coming.”

“He literally won’t see if you cage him in. You’re not even leaving a gap for him to see through, dude.” Hau shakes his head. “Building him a cage is fine, but he’s gotta breathe somehow.”

Gladion, trying to shake the spoors of sleep off his organism, frowns at the two. “How is that worrying you and not the fact that he won’t be able to leave?” Both Hau and Moon shrug, either ignorant or too drunk to care. “Where did you even get all this from?”

Moon finally stops building, brick on her hand dripping with wet cement. “Did you know the mall is rebuilding its entrance because of that bad storm last week?” Gladion shakes his head. “I didn’t either until… an hour ago. Maybe a little less.”

Gladion watches her build with uncanny calmness. Maybe he’s too tired to care, maybe it’s the way the moonlight shapes her or how the murmur of the waves washing at his feet tranquilizes him, but it’s hard for him to complain about something that, legally speaking, the victim can’t prove he saw. On the basis of law he’s innocent and Moon’s the criminal.

Which he means he should get her to drop all those tools that she somehow knows how to use.

“Moon,” he says her name calmly, coughing the raspiness of sleep away. She whips her head to him, eyes bright and at attention. “Drop the brick and walk away. Slowly. I’m scared you might trip in your state.”

“I’m fine. I’m not drunk.” The spite in her voice would be credible if it weren’t for the light daze glossing her eyes. “I’m a very professional Champion doing Alola a favor. This should count as community work.”

Gladion turns to Hau, as though he will convince her, but the young Kahuna shrugs and sighs. “Tried my best earlier. She’s not gonna let it go. That’s why I called you.” He gets on his feet. Moon pays no heed to his departure. “Maybe she’ll save the tourists from Ilima’s weird flirting. He says he does it unintentionally but I think something’s fishy there.”

“I fell for the charm when I began my Island Challenge,” both men turn to Moon, blinking in surprise. “I got some dignity. He deserves it for making me lose my cool. He’s got this sway of his words that could turn stones pink.”

Hau nods solemnly. Gladion stares at her like she just grew another head out of thin air, surprised. The other snickers, knowing that Moon won’t hear them, deeply focused on her task. 

Gladion narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t cry about it, my dude. She’s well over it.” Hau regards the scene one last time, wincing as Moon slaps a brick on so hard it nearly shatters. He turns to the President once more. “I thought I could take advantage of that thing you two got goin’ on–”

“We have nothing going on.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Anyway, I thought I could ask you to take her home since I honestly can’t. I’m so drunk I don’t know how I’m even awake, man.” He points at Moon with his thumb, grinning. “She’s a handful and I got work tomorrow. I’m passing her on to you. Don’t do anything funny to her.”

Gladion swings his eyes to her, watching her nonchalantly work on her little masterpiece, and then looks at Hau. “What do I get out of this?”

“Moon is really cute when she’s hammered.”

“She’s cute every day.” Gladion is so tired he might as well let that slip. It’s not like any of these idiots is gonna remember anyway.

“She’s also super honest and you might get you two’s feelings and all that stuff on the road.”

Gladion thinks this through for two exact seconds.

“Deal.”

Hau animatedly shakes his hand with Gladion���s, then stalks off along the beach. “Take care of her! Good luck, dude!”

Hau also falls face-first into the sand but Gladion doesn’t stay to pay attention to that, and instead walks towards Moon with all the time in the world, quietly watching her work.

“Are you aware this is a little bit illegal?”

“Under what law?”

“Under rationality’s law,” he mutters. That gets Moon to stop, as she calmly sets the brick on top, but it doesn’t stick to the wall. “Do you realize that when Kukui finds out about this, he will give you a colossal earful?”

Moon grins. It’s full of teeth and devoid of good intentions. “He doesn’t need to know. And even if he did, this is my very own masterpiece, I’ll have you know.” Moon pats the cage in what could be closest defined as kindness and fondness. “This is my mark. My heritage for the world to take. It’ll outlive all of us.”

“You’re a famous Pokémon trainer, a Champion, and yet you decide that this is your remarkable feat in history?”

The way she blinks at him leads him to believe she’s genuinely confused. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Let me phrase it another way,” Gladion clears his throat, choosing to entertain her for a little longer. “Do you realize that you won’t remember any of this tomorrow and that Kukui will realize this was yours and will force you to take it down brick by brick?”

“Why would he know?”

Gladion simply points to the bottom of the cage. “You wrote your name with a Sharpie.”

Moon huffs. “That could be somebody trying to incriminate me.”

“It’s your signature. You even drew a small Rowlet.” Gladion narrows his eyes at the scribbled owl. “It looks too horrible to be the work of anybody but you.” 

Moon rolls her eyes, yet stops her work to contemplate her options. “If Ilima wakes up and sees himself free and uncaged, he’ll think I’m a coward and that I didn’t stick to the bet.”

“Don’t you think it’d be much better if he thought you’re the rational Champion we all love and not insane when drunk?”

Her eyes widen and a lovely grin curls her lips, much more teasing and amazed than intoxicated. “Aw, you love me? Really?”

That seems to be doing the trick, and it’s not like she’s going to remember any of this tomorrow so he chooses to be truthful, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve loved you for years now. You’re just too dumb to see it.”

“Well, I can see it now!”

“You’ll forget about this tomorrow, Sherlock,” he mutters, very much disgraced that her delight by his declaration is but a side-effect of her intoxication. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

Sighing as she pouts, he brings an arm down to her waist and another under her legs, proceeding to carry her away. Moon instantly complains. “Hey! We were having a lovely conversation and I’m busy with my descendants’ heirloom!”

“You won’t remember any of this tomorrow and it’s not like you mean any of what you’re saying right now,” Gladion laments, walking across the beach, making a sharp turn to the right. “You can sleep if you want. We’ll be there in a bit.”

Much to his surprise, Moon has gone quiet. He refuses to look down lest he gets distracted by the image of something that would be romantic if it weren’t for how drunk she is. Gladion sometimes wishes Arceus wouldn’t bless him with moments like these where things are going great at the wrong time.

After a few minutes of silent walking, she presses her cheeks on his chest. “I’ll make an effort to remember this.”

“It’s mathematically impossible for someone as drunk as you to remember all that happened tonight.”

“I’ll beat the odds and make an effort. If I don’t remember, you can always tell me tomorrow,” her words are muddled at the end by the yawn she lets out, all before shifting in his arms. “Just… Just you wait, Gladion. I’ll get you to say that again, you hear me? That way I can tell you how I feel too.”

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to tell her again in the future. People say drunk people are honest. Maybe she’s being honest. She’s always honest, after all.

Gladion smirks to himself. “Sure. I’ll be waiting.”

“Good,” she yawns again. “That’s what I like to hear…”

And she falls asleep like that. Her breath evens out and she goes silent, making Gladion stop in his tracks to check if she’s actually asleep.

Under the opportune light of a lamppost and his shadow, she looks at ease and comfortable, peacefully asleep even if his arms are (or should be) anything but comfortable. Her lips are parted slightly and her brow is no longer tense in apprehension and false euphoria, but softened and calm.

Chuckling, he presses a kiss on her forehead and keeps on walking to her house, smiling all the while and silently wondering how Ilima will get out of the trap Moon had built around her.

But oh well, that’s not for him to worry about.

—

[Prompt list]

[fives-coffee]

Coming Home

Summary: Vanya meets an old man one lonely night and offers him a sandwich. If only she knew how much it meant to him.

Warnings: Mild language and sad times

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I may have made this TUA sideblog just so I could post this, so yeah. I hope you like it!

---

Five was rarely given assignments during this time period. The time between when he ran away and the day the world ends.

It was smart, he supposed.

He had never expressed any feelings of compassion or indicated that he missed his family in any way. But he never expressed anything but general contempt and, occasionally, specific hatred towards those at the Commission—the only people he had interacted with in over thirty years—so it wasn’t all that odd.

The Commission knew nothing about him other than his abilities and his long history of being the only man on the planet, but that only meant that they had to be extra cautious. Just because he had never mentioned his family or openly voiced any desire to see them, didn’t mean that he wouldn’t seize an opportunity to interfere with their timelines.

So he was kept away from them as much as possible. It was a rule that went unsaid but understood. And it was a good rule, one Five would enforce himself, were their roles reversed.

But Five was a smart man—a genius, if he wasn’t being humble (which he rarely was). And he had underestimated just how much he would risk to catch a glimpse of his family if ever given the opportunity.

That opportunity came on a mission in 2004. He was supposed to be in Bulgaria, thousands of miles away from his family and theoretically safe from interfering with the timeline.

But as previously noted, Five was a smart man. And, as it turns out, he was also a desperate one.

It was a quick trip—it wouldn’t take long for the Commission to notice his absence and that just wouldn’t do if he wanted to prevent the Apocalypse at some point in the future. So he teleported as much as he could, onto a plane or a bus or a train, just so long as it was headed in the right direction.

Home.

It took him fourteen hours to get there from Bulgaria. But it felt like a lot longer than that. Possibly because it had actually been forty-two years, three months, and seven days since he had laid eyes on the academy.

Since he had seen his family.

He didn’t know what he expected to find, but somehow the fully erect and functioning school that had been his home for thirteen years surprised him.

No decimated building. No rubble, no fire, no buried memories. No corpses belonging to his family.

In fact, he supposed they were all inside at this very moment, sleeping peacefully as night had fallen in the hours it had taken him to find his way here.

He supposed it was for the best, knowing that if he saw Vanya or Ben or the others, he would want to say something. To do something.

He was supposing a lot because he wasn’t sure what else to do other than stare up at the building and think about what he would do if he could. What he could do if only he would be willing to try.

Five had never been weak, but he had been alone. So he knew that was why tears spilled down his wrinkled and weathered cheeks as he took in everything he had lost and was so close to having back.

Weakness wasn’t acceptable, but loneliness was an old friend. Five thought that maybe he had never actually felt this alone before. When he was traveling around after the Apocalypse, he had had Delores and a few fond memories of his family. Then he had no hope of ever seeing them again, and he had made peace with that.

Now he was ten feet away from them and still unable to reach them. To warn them. To protect them. To save them.

The tears fell harder and Five just stood there, watching and wondering if his time with the Commission was worth it. Could he really prevent the Apocalypse? Could he really make a difference? Or was it all just a waste of time? The dreams of an old man who had too little and too much all at the same time?

Perhaps it would be easier if he gave up now. No more killing done for the sake of humanity. No more dreams of a future where he could walk through that door again. No more—

“Who are you?”

The question was soft, drifting quietly to him in the silence of the night, but it still surprised him.

Humiliating, really. When was the last time he had allowed himself to be caught off guard?

As his tired gaze moved down to the stoop in front of him, he felt his heart freeze in his chest before it began pounding in earnest.

Vanya.

She was still young, though two years older than the last time he had seen her. It was unsettling, to say the least. Seeing his sister who had always been growing along with him still so small. Still so young and— Jesus was that hope in her eyes?

“Who are you?” he mimicked, voice managing to come out clear despite his tears and more callous than he meant it to. But what else was he supposed to do?

He wasn’t sure what he had been hoping to do when he came here, but it wasn’t this. Talking to his fifteen-year-old sister who looked more than a little heartbroken as she stared up at him like he was just some strangerand not her favorite brother.

“I…” she hesitated, voice meek and unsure before she seemed to find her courage. She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes with a forced confidence that made his heart clinch painfully. She was so, so young and still so scarred. “My name is Vanya. This is my house.”

“Is it?” Five asked, discreetly wiping his eyes before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Then why are you out here so late, Vanya. It’s late. You should be in bed.”

Her name felt strange in his mouth—not because he wasn’t used to its sound anymore. He said all of his siblings names every night before he slept, an odd ritual that still stuck with him after all of these years. And he often talked about them to Delores when he still had her. It was the strangeness of speaking it to her that had his throat closing and the burning sensation returning to his eyes.

Still, he fought to maintain his cool demeanor even if all he wanted to do was pick up his sister and hold her to him and never leave her again.

He told himself it was necessary, but he wasn’t so sure if that was true or if he just couldn’t fathom a reality where it was possible anymore.

“I’m… waiting for someone,” she answered, eyes lowering to the ground as she shuffled from foot to foot. Always so guilty, always so afraid to take up more space than she was allowed. Five’s brow furrowed.

“Who? Is your family not inside?” He wasn’t sure why he asked—if he was mad that they had possibly left her behind or worried that she was waiting for someone else. Someone who could hurt her. The thought made him sick even though he knew for a fact that she would be dead along with the rest of humanity in fifteen years anyway.

“Well… they are. Just not all of them. One of my brothers is… missing,” she said the word like she knew she meant something else, and Five felt his blood run cold. “He’s been gone for a while now, but sometimes I feel like he’s still around. Just waiting for me to come find him. But… the others think it’s silly.”

Five opened and closed his mouth, watching his sister watching the ground with an ashamed look on her face as he fought to find an appropriate response. One that wasn’t I’m right here Vanya or I love you. I’m so sorry I kept you waiting. What he ended up saying was, “What’s his name?” Maybe because he wanted to confirm that it was him she was talking about and they hadn’t lost another sibling or maybe just because it had been so long since he had heard her—or anyone of importance—say his name.

“Five,” she said, his name catching in her throat in a way that made him think it had been a while since she had said it too. When he didn’t say anything, she sniffled and drew back, raising wide, apologetic eyes to his. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you, sir. I just—I thought maybe—I’m sorry. I’ll just… go.”

She turned to go, seeming embarrassed and heart broken and defeated, and Five’s frantically grasped at something else to say. Something to make her stay just a little longer. Something to dispel the sad expression on her face and thaw the ice that had settled around his heart, if only just for a second.

“What’s that in your hand?” he asked, just now noticing that she was holding something. She appeared to have forgotten about it as well based on the way she blinked down at it in surprise.

“It’s… it’s nothing. It’s just silly,” she said, turning back around to face him with a bashful expression.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Five reassured her. And for the first time in decadeshe smiled. A genuine, real smile that felt a bit like coming home. Vanya smiled back, and he thought that made it worth the ache in his chest that accompanied it.

“It’s a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich,” she explained, looking down at the plate with a fondness that took Five’s breath away. “It was his favorite,” she elaborated when he said nothing. As if he didn’t know. As if that’s not why he found himself suddenly incapable of speech.

“So… you made it for him? For your brother?”

Vanya nodded hesitantly, still hiding behind her bangs the way she always did. It seemed some things never changed. Or maybe it was just him that did. “I know it’s stupid—everyone tells me so. But I can’t stand the thought that maybe he’ll come back, and he’ll be hungry and alone and…”

“And?” Five urged when she stopped, crouching down so that he could meet her eyes.

“And then he’ll leave again,” she admitted in a whisper, as though if she said it too loudly, she would make it a reality.  

Five cleared his suddenly dry throat, offering her a less genuine smile as he fought to suppress his tears. He had dreamed of meeting his family again, but he had never imagined it going like this. For it to be so painful and for him to feel so useless.

“I’m sure that your brother would love that,” he said, and he was because he did. “And I know that when he comes back to you, he will do everything he can to stay with you.”

“Do you really think so?” Vanya asked, hope and pain clear in her timid voice.

“Yes.” Five spoke firmly, reassuringly, hoping it was enough to convey what he couldn’t say. “I think that one day, your brother will find you and he will never let go.”

“Then why hasn’t he already?”

The question caught him off guard, though he supposed it shouldn’t have. Vanya was fifteen and upset and talking to a complete stranger about the brother that deserted them. It was natural that she would wonder why he hadn’t come back already.

It still stung though.

His immediate thought was to say that he couldn’t yet, that he wasn’t able to, but he knew that was a lie. He could now—he had the briefcase and the knowledge of how to use it. Hell, he was actually there right now. But not in any way that mattered. Not in any way that would last beyond the next fifteen years.

What good was coming back just to watch his family die in the Apocalypse?

All good excuses, he told himself. He just wasn’t sure how to explain that to a fifteen-year-old who was his sister and who was mourning him when he was unable to simply tell herthat.

“Sometimes… Sometimes we have to do unpleasant things before we can do what we really want. Maybe he has something important to do before he can come home.” He spoke earnestly, in a way that he never had even before he left this place. He just needed her to believe him, for her sake or his, he wasn’t sure.

Luckily, she seemed to understand.

She nodded, hesitant at first but then surer, punctuated with a small, relieved smile on her face. “Thank you. I… I hope you’re right.”

“I am,” Five assured her, smiling at her one last time before rising from his crouch. “Goodnight, Vanya. I hope you see your brother again soon.”

He was half way down the block, footsteps fast and sure as he rushed to put as much space between himself and his home before he did something stupid, when he heard her voice again.

“Wait! Please, wait!”

Briefly, he considered picking up his pace or just teleporting away, if only that wouldn’t give him away. But ultimately, it was the desperation in her voice that broke him.

He stopped walking and waited for her to catch up.

“You never told me your name,” she said, voice still quiet and unsure despite the edge of accusation she tried to display.

“I didn’t,” he agreed easily, hands still carefully stuffed in his pockets as he looked down at where his sister was standing in front of him.

She blinked up at him, seeming to accept that he wouldn’t be answering her without surprise. He thought that was to be the end of their conversation, so he offered her one last nod before moving to step around her—only to be met with a plate being thrust at his chest.

He blinked down at the plate and the sandwich that it held, surprised and uncomprehending. “What are you…?”

“Take it,” she said, voice firmer than it had been all night. Probably firmer than it had been in years. “If my brother isn’t going to eat it, well… you might as well.”

“I…” Five started, a refusal on his lips before he could think better of it. Before he could give in to the desire for this little slice of normalcy and nostalgia that was literally being offered to him on a silver platter.

How long had it been since someone had made food for him? How long had it been since he had eaten his favorite sandwich? How long had it been since he had seen Vanya—sweet, innocent, ordinary, Vanya—smile at him like they were sharing a secret?

Too long, he knew. So he reasoned that this small act of weakness could be excused.

“Thank you,” he said, reaching out to take the plate from her small hand. “This is actually my favorite.”

Vanya’s smile only grew at his confession, and she seemed immensely satisfied with herself. “Good. Consider it a thank you, for listening to me. For giving me hope.”

Guilt weighed on Five’s shoulders as he thought back on the book he still had tucked away with his things. A book that hadn’t been written yet but would bring to light years of slights and cold-shoulders and loneliness that he had never noticed before.

He saw it now, on her pale, hopeful face. How much this one kind conversation impacted her. Like his mere presence and willingness to listen was the best thing to happen to her in a long time.

It made him sick.

He took a large bite of the sandwich anyway, both to see her smile again and fill the sudden void in his stomach. “No need to thank me, Vanya. It was my pleasure.”

He handed her back the plate without another word, sandwich still in hand as he turned his back on her and left. It was easier this way—he couldn’t bear sticking around long enough to actually say goodbye.

Besides, he thought with a smile, I’ll see her again soon.

And he would. No more dragging his feet or fucking around for the Commission. He was going to find a way back to his family, one that would be permanent. He would find a way to stop the Apocalypse before it even began.

He would save them all, and one day he would be able to tell Vanya that he was right, as he always was.

There would be no time for sweet reunions or tearful confessions, of course. He was a soldier now, and he wouldn’t rest until the world—and his family—were saved. But he would savor this, at least. A peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich and a few words shared with his favorite sibling. A smile and a promise. Hope.

It would have to be enough. For now.

[kylagabrielle22]

“Excruciating Reminiscence”

      On the morning of 27th of June, 2015; it was very gloomy and dull to start the day. I stepped outside to our backyard and viewed an aurora firmament that was the tincture of holocaust near the horizon. The ground was cracked underneath my feet and the breeze was humid; it had not rained in a month already. Dust stuck to my ultra-boost Adidas shoes as I made my way to our neighborhood to begin my usual morning jog.

      Everyone knew me as an ambitious woman, calling me names such as “Bridget Jones in-your-face” but I knew myself better that I was a sophisticated lady even if I was that aggressive when it comes to my aspirations. I was kind of lean, with dark, long, frizzy, and wavy auburn hair and my skin was tanned since I was young. I had squint lines at the corners of my hazel brown eyes gained by a memoir spent beneath the sun; at twenty-two, now and then I wonder whether I could decide and have the life in the metropolitan or in the bush I had chosen.

      The daytime was already becoming tepid and the sun was reflecting much light luminously. So, I twirled up the sleeves of my button-up, dry fit Adidas shirt. I wore my usual bluish and faded jogging pants which had grown cottony and cozy over the years. Actually, all of my outfits were just bought at the boutique near our house which was selling a lot of cheap, good, quality second-hand items. I glimpsed at my white G-shock watch and it was a little bit after 8 in the morning. I realized I had a long plenty of time ahead and I still need to do some tasks.

      I pulled the gate open then closed the gate again. When I got home, my family was not there already because my parents were at their work and my siblings had their own family now. Since I am the youngest, I still need to go to school and I better prepare myself already. I took my shower, brushed my teeth, put my well-ironed school uniform on, wore my black shoes with white socks and of course I did not forget to put my go-to make-up routine on my lovely face.

      I arrived at our school early always and I never had the chance to be late. I always got highest scores during examinations, written quizzes, oral recitations and even performance tasks. I always represented my section and my academy during competitions with confidence thus I never lose. My teachers always praised me and I was a favorite to most of the folks whom I knew but I cannot deny the fact that there were some people whose insecure about me and easily get jealous on my achievements in life.  

      “Six more months Bridget Jones in-your-face slash sophisticated Bridget lady, you are going to the metropolitan at last and achieve all your dreams there’, I said to myself as I was finally done writing my valedictory speech in my pocket-sized room. I got bored right after writing my speech; I got my android phone and listened to some songs on my hacked Spotify account with my favorite playlist on. I imagined things while listening to the songs; I formed a mental picture of my life in the metropolitan and how my life could be if I was already there. I knew for sure that I could live there peacefully and fabulously. I closed my eyes, felt the rhythm of the melody of the songs until I slept.  

      On the afternoon of 21st of September, 2017; the most awaited moment in my entire life happened. I was now travelling to my metropolitan dream. The first hundred country mile was on rutted gravel rocks pocked with potholes, first on the reserve, then winding past a number of subnormal villages. That partition would take up to the early afternoon, I was not fond of travelling but I allowed my mind to wander as I took in the world I called my dearest metropolitan. Until, I saw tall buildings and a lot of luxurious cars, I knew that I was already at the border of the metropolitan.

      Indeed, dreams do come true and sometime I was here at the metropolitan area. A big thanks to my former academy and to my Byzantine bloodline I was able to have a big opportunity to apply to some big companies here and I got the job immediately. My life here started well; I had a very nice house with silk-lined wallpaper and polished parquet flooring. The kitchen was about twice the size to our old kitchen, and the refrigerator, when I opened it, was always pretty full. I could say I got a pretty good salary.

      Time had become fragmented, headstrong, arriving and departing in chaotic array of hours. I got tired of my hectic schedule in this metropolitan life I had here. I got tired on my work and I did not have much appetite to begin my day. What was worse was that I did not have much time with myself. So, I gave my life a break. I explored the city life and went each night to clubs and bars. I even tried smoking weed and drinking whatsoever drinks they called.

      On the evening of 30th of December, 2018; I was dressed in faded blue Levis jeans, velvet red Channel sandals, and a yellow sleeveless Burberry blouse that dipped to a low V in front. With smooth, tanned skin and auburn hair framing high cheekbones, I drew my gape with irresistible force. My round eyes widened with some effusive enthusiasm when I eventually came to a breathless stop in front of a guy. He was wearing an all-black outfit and he was smiling above the cosmos with the full moon and dazzling stellar.  

      I have not felt this kind of feeling inside of me way back then. This emotion was unfamiliar to me and I do not know how to react. I was caught off by him and this might be cliche to think but I truly fell in love at first sight of him. Since I do not know what to that moment I turned my back on him and closed my eyes for about a minute. When suddenly, someone patted my shoulder. So I turned and faced the person, surprisingly it was the guy.

      He asked me if I was all alone tonight and if it was fine to me if I let him be my friend. I directly said, “Yes, of course. I’m Bridget Jones and you are?”. He replied, “Andrew Sterling my lady.” while shacking my hand. We went to a night club; we talked about our chaotic lives, we danced on the dance floor like we knew ourselves for so long already and we drank a bucket of alcoholic drinks.

      I was getting tipsy and when I am tipsy I cannot control myself already. I danced and drank one more bucket of beer while he was just watching me and was beaming all along perfectly. I was so exhausted and did not realized that it was already 31st of December which means it was New Year’s Eve. I slept with him in a motel close to the night club and all I could remember was that he said “I love you Bridget Jones.” and kissed me passionately.

      I woke up hearing the swishing sound of the wind and the noise of the cars passing. It seemed, oddly, and I slowly opened my eyes. I lay enthralling it, letting it crystallized, letting my cerebrum play catch-up, as I recognized each for what it was. I looked for my phone to see what time is it but I could not find it. I tried checking it on my bag but I also could not find my bag. “Fudge, darn it!’, I screamed loudly. All of my cards were there; my credit card, ATM card and even my debit card. I got nothing left with me but only my body.

      Then, I remembered what happened last night, I remembered the guy named “Andrew Sterling”, whom I fell in love at first sight with. I realized that I was just being tricked all that night. He just used his charm on me to take my bag; my cards and my phone. I was being swindled by a guy whom I fell in love with for the very first time. No one is completely predictable hence, we all have blindsiding bursts.

      It felt like a long time ago. Although, I could still recognize the lady I was then, I see nothing more than a congruity to the lady I am now. Life before with my mom and dad seems even complete than life without them and living all alone. I forgot my very own and had not paid attention to my parents’ life in the hinterland. I was too ambitious and I focused too much on my aspirations which resulted in a worst situation. I forgot that I was once the sophisticated lady even if they knew me as” Bridget Jones in-your-face.”.

      On the dawn of 1st of January, 2019; I was in the middle of nowhere, it was raining so hard and all I can hear was the tormenting sound of the thunder and the never-ending noise of the raindrops. My heart still wanted my metropolitan dream to be possible but the universe was not governed by wants or even needs. Some things do not work, no matter how much you want them to. I let my choices led me to the wrong path in life. The scary part, I thought to myself, was not the pain but the lasting existence. From now on, I must reckon on things that felt like they came from somewhere deeper than mere reminiscence.  

[lazynoodlepuff]

Shelly Johnoson (Briggs) x reader headcanons

These are bullrtpoints because I’m to lazy to write a full fanfiction. Did I retconed some things for Drama™? Yes. Did I love Shelly and want to protect her with my life? Correct. Am I gay for her so I wrote it with female reader in mind? Positive. But she deserves someone better than Bobby (don’t get me wrong, he’s not bad but.. I mean... she deserves me. Or you, my dear reader. yes.) I couldn’t find anything online so... Brace yourselves, it’s four pages long.

You remembered Shelly from school. She was a year or two younger than you so you only knew her by sight

After graduation you went to college outside Twin Peaks but it didn’t felt quite right

Twin Peaks was a peculiar town, one of its kind and you loved it

So you came back

You met Shelly at Double R diner

She was waiting your table and had the prettiest simile you’ve ever seen

It took your breath away and for a couple of seconds you were just starring at her, completely mesmerized

‘What can I get you?’ she repeated, laughing slightly to make it less awkward

You chuckled too, embarrassed

‘Sorry, I’m a bit tired. Just moved back here’

You ordered coffee and cranberry pie just because she told you that they’re good

And damn, she was right

You heard that she dropped out of school and married a trucker

Your heart ached at the thought of her being married to someone else, even if you knew she would never reciprocate your attraction

You became a regular visitor at Double R

The small talks became longer

And longer

Oh you fell for her so hard

One day you came by later than usual, Shelly was just finishing her shift

You asked if she wanted to go for a drink or something together

You didn’t really believe that she would

But her face lit up when you asked that

‘That would be nice, Leo’s out of town anyway’

You start hang out together outside the diner

And you talk more and more

Get closer

But you notice things that worry you, small at first and easy to dismiss but growing in significance with time

Like she never spoke about her husband

Or almost never invited you over

How quiet she was at any mention of her marriage

And you’ve never seen him but apparently no one in town liked him much or was close with him

You noticed that she was much more withdrawn and quieter when Leo was in town

You couldn’t shake the feeling that it was not right

She was young, married, supposedly in love but she didn’t seem happy

So you asked her about it

‘He’s just… not the men I thought I was marrying’

It didn’t sound like the whole truth, but you dropped it for now

You begun to realise that you were slowly falling in love with her

You took her out as often as you could – seeing movies, going for walks, live music in Roadhouse, hanging out at your flat, even just shopping for household items or groceries together

Sometimes you felt like a fool, doing everything to see her beaming at you again

Oh god you were so in love

One day you were strolling side by side, down a forest path, far from anyone who could see you

You felt her knuckles brushing against yours

It’s not a coincidence, is it?

You felt it again, so you cast a quick look at her

She avoided your eyes

You carefully entwined your fingers with hers

You two walk for next couple of minutes in silence, holding hands

Finally, you two stop and look at each other

You want to say so many things, but your mouth goes dry when you look at her, you hope that she can see all the love in your eyes

Hesitantly, you tuck a loose strand of  hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek as you did so

Her smile was so sad

‘Isn’t it weird? When I met Leo he was showering me with affection, I thought I love him so I married him. Then it turned out that he just wanted a maid he didn’t have to pay for, and I thought that I’ll never love anyone ever again, yet here I am with you.’

You felt so happy and so sad at the same time

‘I never thought that I would find someone so wonderful to love me back’ you said pulling her into your arms

You wished the whole world would go away and there were just the two of you forever

It was also when you kissed for the first time

Unsure, clumsily and very, very softly

You’re always soft and gentle with her

One evening when you were sitting on the sofa in your living room, she told you about Leo

What he did to her

She was quiet and withdrawn, even more than usual, in the past two weeks, you knew that Leo came back from the road and you prayed so he would leave again

He was back on the road yesterday

But Shelly told you about the abuse, how scared she was when he was around

How she dragged her by the her, calling her a stupid bitch because she tripped, spilling soup on his jacket

She showed you bruises on her arms, fading away now

And it broke your heart

You wanted to scream or to cry but you couldn’t do it in front of her

You just hold her close once again, with all gentleness you had, her head buried in the crook of your neck, whispering into her hair that he’s a bastard and doesn’t deserve her, that she’s the most wonderful women in the world and you love her so much

You might have cried eventually

You were supporting her and trying to make her believe that she can leave him

That she should leave him

But of course, it’s not so simple

It never is

Especially if someone is used to abuse

And is simply scared too

You made her promise that she would call you if anything would happen again

You also told her that if she would ever need it, she could stay with you, you will keep her safe

You were worrying a lot

When Shelly bought a gun, you weren’t sure what to think of it but if that’ll keep her safer you could accept that

And when Leo wanted to hit her again, she shot him

She called you at the middle of the night, she was so scared

You couldn’t make much sense of what she was saying but you pulled a jacket over your pyjamas and drove to her

She was sitting in the floor crying and shivering, blood on the floor

She told you that Leo screamed like an animal, then run away

‘He’s going to kill me’ she sobbed

‘I won’t let that happened’

You took her back to your flat, barricading doors as she insisted, still shivering, tears on her cheeks

You took her to bed and hugged until she calmed down

And then till the morning

You picked up her things the next day and she stayed with you

You convinced her to fill the domestic violence report and to divorce him

When Leo was shot dead you finally could breathe peacefully. He was gone from your life

Shelly was hesitant to officially move in with you

But she did eventually

You told her that she will never, ever be bound to you and can leave if she’ll wants to

You respect her and keep reminding her that you always will

It’s hard at the beginning, there’s a lot of baggage

She has nightmares about Leo returning to kill you both. Sometimes she wakes up at night, shivering but tries not to wake you up.

When you realised that, you do your best to never look annoyed and just sit with her until she calms down

Sometimes you catch her staring at you, looking like there’s still a part of her that is afraid that after some time you’ll turn out to be like Leo

Sometimes when you’re angry at something she physically flinches so you try to not be very expressive with your anger

You don’t argue often. Once when you were arguing with her, you don’t even remember what it was, you raised your hand and Shelly broke off and cowered, taking step back

It was quick, involuntary instinct

When you saw that all your anger disappeared immediately, you wanted to cry – the person you loved was hurt so many times that she was afraid that you would do it too

You end up on your knees apologizing

She was apologizing for reacting like that too

You told her that she doesn’t have to apologize

You both end up sitting on the kitchen floor, half-crying

You slowly worked out how to live together

Every day before she leaves to work you tell her you love her

She smiles at you with the same smile that made her fall for her all that time ago

She brings you leftover pie from the diner

You share house tasks, especially when one of you is exhausted after all day of work

You still go out together even if less often than at the beginning

You don’t show affection in public

But in your home, sometimes you can’t stop yourself from it

Casual pecks in the cheek every now and then when you’re walking around the house

Cuddling when you watch TV

Cuddling in bed

You’re often feel very protective so you’re the one who is being snuggled to (aka you just love holding her in your arms or with her head on your shoulder on in the crook of your neck)

A lot of softness and fondness

God, she’s so touch starved

And you would be mistaken if you’d think that she’s passive in receiving admiration

Oh, she initiates contact so often

And she’s the one who bought sexy black lingerie to your surprise

Not that you would ever complain

When you make love your hands are everywhere

It was a bit awkward at the beginning, but you figured it out together

Did I mention neck kisses?

Like, a lot of them

You just build a happy life together with a lot of respect and love for each other and nothing could change that