#hands down among the best ive ever seen

[prodkatsu]

he comforts you during a panic attack ⨾ bakugou katsuki

"hello, love!"

"i don't think i can do this."

"what—" the painful sobbing from the other side interrupted katsuki from finishing his sentence.

"it's too much. the world is spinning around me and i think i'll throw up if this goes on. im not enough prepared for this. they'll know im not the best and im nothing but useless bitch who can't do much other than being nervous. i don't think i can do—" your sobs of panic were interrupted.

"breath, love, breath for me." the soft voice of your boyfriend spoke from the other side — this is the softest you've ever heard him. you take a gulping breath, choking on the process. "i need you to calm down and tell me what happened, 'kay?"

you nod. "words, love, i need words. tell me what happened."

and you started to tell him all your worries and he listened to those, patiently among all the chokes and sobs you let out. "—and i don't think im qualified enough to give this exam. all the people around me are so talented and experienced, and im nothing but a blabbering mess. i don't think i come even close to them." your sobs swallow few words but katsuki caught up to them "it's— i— ugh! i feel so insignificant among all this amazing people. it's tough imagining that i'll even do well, let alone score good."

you started to sob into the phone, praying that no one will use the restroom at this moment. you don't think you'll be able to take the humiliation along with this anxiety.

the line stayed quiet for some time, making you blabber more nonsense than you mean. "im so sorry. i did not mean to disturb you during your duty. i know how busy you are. oh god! i can't even be a good girlfriend—"

"hey! enough. stop saying shit about my girlfriend. i know my girlfriend better than anyone and i love her despite what she thinks of herself, so do not say anything bad about her." he said sternly, his words making you smile through the tears slightly.

clearing his throat, katsuki said in a soft voice, "i was giving you time, love, to organize your thoughts. im sorry it gave you more things to worry." you shake your head on the other side, realising he can't see. "you know what i think, i think you'll do amazing. ive seen you work hard and i know how much effort you put in your work."

"your classmates might be good, but you're better, you can't underestimate your power, you understand?" you nod. "i need words, love." you reply in a shaky voice, "yes."

"good. you need to know it's normal for you to feel nervous but please believe in yourself. i know you have work hard and i know how good you are. you need to believe in yourself and see what an amazing person you are, yes?" you sobbed and reply, "yes."

"good. now go out there and break legs. i mean literally." you laughed which pulled a smile on katsuki's face. "you good now, baby?"

"yes, im better." you wiped your eyes and nod your head.

"that's my girl. you're better you need to know." you hummed and stood up to dust your dress. walking out of the toilet stall, you went to wash your hands.

"'suki, do you ever feel nervous?" there was a pause before his voice came through.

"always, love, always when you're not with me. i always feel nervous that a time can come when im far from you and you get hurt and im not fast enough to save you. this always haunts me in the night." you can hear the vulnerability in his voice. your katsuki was many things but vulnerable wasn't any of them. he only let this side show with you, that's what you admire the most. he was a force to reckon with but soft breeze when he was with you.

"you're the best, 'suki, i love you." katsuki could feel his ears turning red. you still have that effect on him even after being in a relationship for four years, and on the way to get married. "i love you too, baby. now go and do your best."

you whispered a farewell to him and left the restroom with a new earned determination.

you have prepared your best so you don't need to worry about anything else.

© prodkatsu 2023 — do not plagiarise, translate or repost my work on any other sites. the characters that i write about are not mine (sadly), they belong to their respective creators.

[noblesixjm04]

I can't get this out of my head. It's just something that ive had rattling around. If this doesn't make much sense I'm sorry lol but.

Do you ever think about if the Spartan ii's ever met one of those siblings without realizing it?

Like. John meeting a young female marine. She's quick witted and wicked smart. There is almost nothing she will back down from. At least not until she gets a "win." She will never leave one of her teammates behind. She's also known among her friends for her dry sense of humor.

One day she runs into John whiles he's out of armor. She never realizes that he's the Master Chief as they stare at one another. Blue eyes look into blue. The roots of her hair are blonde. Contrasted against a dark brown. They share the same smattering of freckles. Dusted along their face and down to their arms. Petering out along the backs of their hands.

And when she smiles there's a gap in her front teeth. (One tooth is chipped from a hard won game of King of the Hill.) She jokes that they match.

Apparently her brother had to. Her parents told her about him. How he had passed a few years before she was born. Her mother told her about her and her brothers shared a constellation of freckles.

Maybe Kelly runs into a pair of twin engineers. One is a girl. The other a boy. The girl has her hair cropped short. It's faded green. The boy has long hair. Held back in a tight braid. It's blue.

They strike up a conversation with Kelly one day. Mostly out of boredom. At one point talking about how they had been on their schools track team. Twin Terrors they had been called. They were the fastest in the entirety of their schools career.

They are the only two out of the group of engineers and scientists that could match her humor.

Kelly never sees them again after that. But she thinks about them often enough. About how they all shared the same accented voice.

About the day they all raced.

She won. Of course. But something about it made her feel like she was missing something. She matched it to the same feeling to her younger years with the rest of the ii's on Reach. On some of the few days they had true fun.

Linda was sent to therapy. Well. Not really sent. It was... Suggested. That she go.

Linda did. This time. For the first time. The last time.

She met an older man. Her elder by about three or four years. With the same red hair, that has streaks of white at the temples, and piercing green eyes.

Those eyes that looked at her like she does down the snipers scope. Those eyes that seemed to know her own.

She could see them widen. Hear the hitch on his breath as they flicker to a photograph and then back to her.

He...

Maybe she had seen him in passing once. Despite him never having been on this ship before.

He has been the one to pull the trigger.

"I don't think I'm the right match for you." His voice rumbled in a familiar way.

When she left. Linda tried to stop thinking about the worn, frames photo on his desk. The one with a boy. About eight or nine. With a shock of bright red hair. He held an archery trophy in one hand. In his other. The hand of a little girl. Close to five. With that same shock of red hair and green eyes that seemed to see you even through the cameras lense.

Fred meets a medic after a nasty injury. The Odst's and Marines in his company joke that he has as getting the best medic around.

He was a young man. Kind and deeply empathetic.

Those same Marines also joked about how the two of them could be siblings in a different life. With how they shared the same sloped nose and sharp jaw. The same, soft manner of speaking.

"Seriously Lieutenant. Just give the Doc the same hair cut. Could fool me that's for sure."

The medic said that he did have a brother. One that he has never met. That he had passed away a few months before he had been born .

But he and his parents visited his grave every year on his brother's birthday. And that this was the first year that he wouldn't be able to.

"He's be turning thirty three today." The medic had just finished Fred's stitches.

"Oh." Fred spoke it before it could be stopped.

"Oh what?" The medic had asked.

"I turned thirty three today." It was one of the few things he remembered. Something he rarely thought about. Because something around it had made his heart hurt.

"Here then. Happy birthday." The medic handed Fred a chocolate granola bar.

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

(Note: All of these asks are before episode 206 (Season 2 finale) so some may be dated.) 1. The wild part to me about the "Persephone got approved Underworld citizenship" is it took what, a week at most? Even if you want to use IRL Royal examples, someone like Megan Markle would (if she had kept up the process) still need two YEARS to get approved of it at minimum which includes a lot of paperwork and staying in the country for prolonged time, but Persephone gets it in a few days with no process? Is there really nothing Persephone doesn't get handed to her on a silver platter?

2. "How to be a woke misogynistic :Add white before woman" I think this anon was tryna call antis misogynistic?? Which like. Some of the "criticism" ive seen is just people using lo as an excuse to be misogynistic against rs but most of it is genuine idk what they're going on abt 😭

3. ya know for claiming to be a "loving and supportive fandom with no drama" lo fans are by far the most cruel set of bullies i've ever seen, and I've been in a LOT of intense fandoms. and I can't even handwave these fans as just dumb kids, many of them are adult women who made a mid webcomic their entire world and would rather get a power high off the harassment and bullying of others who dare no obsess over what they do while still thinking they're "feminists". it's so weird 💀

4. Lol I love that the person typed that 'regular' people just drop it and move on when they dislike something. Apparently you're no longer a regular person for disliking and discussing a piece of media 😔

Anyway, LO can bite it. It's misogynistic and an insult to Greek culture among many other glaring flaws. The giant red flag of an age gap and power dynamic between them is one hell of a thing to defend y'all, and it's also a hell of a thing to praise 1 character for cheating but cheer on another character for doing the exact same thing 🙃🙃🙃

Also it's incredibly funny to me how LO stans are so so aggressive and condescending to us about disliking it when we're just minding our own business?? We ain't talking to you nor do we go out of our way to mess with your tags (tumblr is tumblr, y'know) unlike a few of y'all that I've seen specifically use the anti tag to start shit like a bunch of brats. We'll continue minding our own business talking about LO with both non-fans and fans who actually want to have a discussion instead of mindlessly praising it, and y'all should mind your own business. 

5. This comic loves to claim it’s pro sexuality, pro kink, and pro female empowerment AND anti purity culture yet loves nothing more than framing sex outsides of Hades as bad, loves to push Purity culture to make Persephone look like the best woman ever, loves tearing other women down for not being the “right” type of woman, and consistently shames others’ consenting sex lives as gross and weird despite the whole comic being an obvious stretched out mess of Rachel’s office setting DDLG kink. Like??

6. I mean I get why LO Hera doesnt murder babies and all but it is an issue RS rides off "I'm not trying to be accurate!" when she makes Hades the "perfect" guy and Hera and Persephone the most desirable/amazing with zero flaws but then turns around and goes "oh well I'm being accurate!" to make Zeus be super mega awful and just make up stuff to pin on Apollo, Leto, and Thetis like?? you can't have it both ways?? Like she obvs picks and chooses who gets to be whitewashed and who doesnt.

7. Go figure LO fans to make Netflix all but closing down their entire animation department and laying off hundreds of people to STILL make it all about LO. I have countless friends who lost their jobs all en-masse with no warning and a neutered severance plan (NF purposely made it be four WEEKS instead of four MONTHS), the majority of them and their productions by BIPOC and/or LGBTQ+ creators and they're only worried over well-off and employed Rachel? Fuck off. I'm so upset over this.

8. Completely and utterly disappointed at LO being nominated for an Eisner again. I think Webtoon has the power to just nominate it every year and ignore all of their other series.

9. Listen we all know every award is just marketing and we know damn well Webtoons just pumps the with money to nominate LO but we know damn well they're giving way more money to pump up their brand now because the Batman comic is so lazily made yet was ALSO nominated for best webcomic and they're like "one of our BIGGEST HITS big ethel energy is being printed!" despite it being one of their most hated series that is lampooned for bad art and writing. anyway they need to be taxed more.

10. HXP is such boring, basic mythology shipping. Get back to me when they give Isis x Osiris and Dionysus x Ariadne the respect they deserve.

[randis-ramblings]

War's Birth

As I gaze up into the large, pure blue eyes of the white cloaked creature standing before me, I see... stars.

Eyes full of stars... full of stories to tell... of worlds long erased from mere existence, a creature that only takes what form it does for simplicity. A form of a tall creature, skin like a cinnamon, with a large, white speckled face, eyes like inkwells in depth and emptiness. Knowledge that a human mind could never comprehend, deep in the eyes of a creature who has seen all that has ever happened... and wants to know more.

Eyes of an ancient God, forever curious as its strange, deerlike legs allow it to bend in ways that shouldnt be possible, crouching at eye level to stare at my face, the face of a mere mortal. Yet the god stares with curiousity matching my own, opening a maw as it begins to talk, first in languages long dead, as it adjust its vocal cords to its new form, new languages as if its absorbing what it knows from my own vernacular and more. Gifting me tools of language even I dont know.

"What is a child like you doing in my library?"

Its voice, raspy, like it hasn't been used in centuries, but with echoes like its cords have known a hundred voices, and will know thousands more. Its head tilts with the question, revealing strange small, curled horns on its head slightly as it pulls back its hood to cover more of its face once more.

"I don't know"

An honest answer. I was moved over to here... when?

How long have I been among these shelves of massive books? with millions of names, of identification numbers among me... I havent a clue why Im here. How I got here.

The elder god seems confused. Those unblinking eyes staring deep into my soul... eyes of a creature that could cause more devastation than worlds could know with little more than a wave of its hand... yet it doesnt. If it wanted me dead, it long couldve killed me, with its sharply clawed hand grasping its cloak, holding it tight, hiding the true form of whatever this is.

"People don't often wander in here. They can't. My library is home to those who have passed, who had stories to tell. I am their final embrace, the final words they hear as they pass on, with their stories recorded in my home in the books I store on every shelf"

As the god pauses it becomes more evident to me... theres voices here. Faint voices of the past, documented in these pages and pages of books.

"What are you truly human?"

"I... don't know"

Too many answers.

What answer fits best?

Where best would I fit?

It tilts its head in a different direction.

"Give me all the answers you have"

Pausing for a moment, I give the answer that fits best

"A... child"

"Yet your memory seems to show something more, does it not?

I see more than a child.

A savior of a crow. Yet a victim of something far greater than yourself.

A victim of something you never shouldve been apart of.

A child victim of a fight you had no part in.

Do you remember how you got here now?"

As I try my hardest to reach back in my memories, holding my bed between my hands... one comes up.

"I was... running. Mother picked me up... but mom couldn't run quickly enough... there was laughter... laughter as mom fell... there was the sound of hoof beats... I remember hurting... is my mom okay?"

The creature seems pleased

"Yes. She is fine. She met with me before. Your mother is okay now. Keep reaching back"

A headache pounding at my skull... my brain doesnt want me to remember... but I need to. I have to. The creature asked me to.

"I... I died. They took mother's head... But they left me to rot...Why am I dead?"

"Death comes for you all. Ive came for you now. But you... you are strange. A child with pain of an adult and more... yet crafty enough to sneak by a God... I have a question for you"

Staring down once more... eyes of ink... yet not uncaring. Like it always knew this would happen.

"What is it?"

Death smiles.

"Would you like to help me with a task? I need a child like you to warn monsters, warn them of their crimes catching up to them. I don't care for stories cut short after all, especially when its cut by another"

As the child nods, and Death takes their hand, its back feels like its finally taking a true full breath for the first time in its life, slits cutting into the cloth on its back, as massive black feathered wings extend out.

"For your innocence and help, you get the wings of the crow that you saved. You pulled it out of a pond, now Im pulling you into the throws of godhood.

If you ever wish to pass on to see your mother, simply let me know. You dont need to stay, but as long as you do you'll be cared for and a helping hand"

"What do I do?

"All I need you to do is go where I tell you. Show up, and they'll see what they need to see. A child like you, closer to their heart. Your wings cannot be hurt, don't worry. You'll appear as you do now to gods like me, monsters will see you as the result of their actions. Dont fret about scaring regular people, they'll see you as nothing more than a bird"

"Am... Am I going to do good?"

"Of course you will, War"

[ess-presso]

hellooo im back💥 i adore your tattoo ideas i love queen sm & getting lines from youre my best friend with your best friend? genius truly. if i could get my best friend to get a matching tattoo with me (which would never happen shes so indecisive) id love to get lyrics from a song we both love. also love the little freak lines i love that song sm.

TY for the fic rec again im gonna give u another one because thats how this works now<3 across the hallway by periwinklehelp_123 (dorlene, dorcas and marlene live across the hallway from each other, pretty self explanatory)

now for taylor. im in a reputation kinda mood today sooo....getaway car, gorgeous, call it what you want !

and omg. pisces thats so funny. please tell me u dont have the same bday as remus.

also i love friends & b99 theyre just such perfect feel-good shows. ive recently been watching new girl in my spare time too🫶

also tangled & princess and the frog?? taste. i love those movies sm theyre the superior disney princess movies (although i always was an ariel girl when i was really young LOL)

okay now questions:

have i ever seen a moose - god i wish. i dont even think moose live in my part of canada? (just googled it and they dont. very sad day for me)

temperature over here - rn its 6 degrees, in the summer it gets up to like 30 degrees, & winter usually gets down to around -10 at most.

favourite fic of all time - oooh this is a hard one. now i dont really read fics for any other fandom, its kinda for marauders for me so. my wip favourites are disintegration by moonymoment, crimson rivers by zar, edge by pinkpalaceapartments (another agent-james assassin-reg fic, based on killing eve), kill your darlings by messermoon, and ofc dead or alive (i guess i have a thing for assassin reg and agent james LOL) now for finished fics... the winner is gonna have to go to just lovers (like we were supposed to be) by zar. (and intermission by zar too since it fits in there) its just perfect and i feel like ive reread it a billion times.

fav golden trio era ship - probably luna and neville (do they have a ship name? i cant think of it if they do) they were my favourite characters as a kid so they have a special place in my heart. OH i also love romione because theyre just a classic and i love them sm.

do i write fics - sadly no. ive tried and failed. im not a creative writer at all, in fact im literally the opposite, call me the grammar police. im essentially the designated paper editor among my friends because im fantastic at technical writing and stuff like that, but i cant write for shit. i truly envy people who can create such beautiful stories.

tea or coffee - coffee always. i do love tea and have it probably just as much as coffee but i will always be a coffee girly.

go to outfit - hmm. well i basically live in my doc martens and leather jacket (very sirius of me i must say) and i do love a good baggy jean and band tee look. but on my off days you cannot find me out of my sweatpants or pajamas. its simply not happening.

how many piercings - 4, two on each earlobe. (2 i did myself with a sewing needle, dont recommend) i really wanna get my septum or just the nostril, but i havent decided yet. although id probably never get it, i do love the look of the medusa piercing too its just cool.

area of study - im studying classics and anthroplogy in uni rn! ive always been a history/humanities girly and i love ancient history and languages so much so thats what i decided to do. (plus i was a greek mythology kid so) i think my ideal career path would be archaeologist but that could change at any given moment, so im just seeing where uni takes me.

fun fact about me - hmmm. im left handed! kinda not a fun fact but for some reason i dont know very many left handed people (i swear have we gotten rarer or something??)

now for questions for you:

do you like books? whats your fav book/book series?

fav movie/movies?

whats one place youve always wanted to visit and why?

do you have any go-to pieces of jewelry that you always wear?

fav food?

cats or dogs?

mbti type?

sun, moon, or stars?

fav holiday? (as im writing this im losing it thinking about what you said about lily and james dying on my bday.😭 i just know james answered the door dressed to the nines in some dumb costume)

im so bad at coming up with questions and im running out ideas so ill think of more for next time <3

-bee

bee bee hello my new best friend <333

i know it is genius isn’t it ??? that’s what i keep telling my best friend , but he’s too scared of the needle. my goal is one year. one year and we’ll both get tattoos. and the little freak thing is literally one of my favourite harry songs !!

new girl is honestly like after modern family on my list. i shall get to her one day.

YOU ARE WELCOME FOR THE FIC REC :))))) I’ve now downloaded across the hallway & am very excited to read it , so thank you (i love lesbians & the next door neighbour trope !!)

now fic rec for you (that is what we do now , you are absolutely correct.) - down at the wolfbucks café by WolfstarGarden (ft barista james & remus , where regulus & sirius walk in one day for a cup of coffee.)

and because i’m on a little bit of a drarry kick rn - mental by sara_holmes (ft drarry with a miscast legilimens spell meaning they can hear each other’s thoughts.)

TAY TAY TIME -

(also yes , reputation always! as jake would say , ‘she makes me feel things’)

getaway car - JEGULUS - i’ve claimed this song for doa (it’s very inspired by getaway car) so i’m very excited for it (favourite song on rep , dare i say.) ‘sirens in the beat of your heart , should’ve known i’d be the first to leave , think about the place where you first met me’ - very very relevant for doa. changed my life when i heard this line. and generally ‘sirens in the beat of your heart’ like nee naw nee naw , don’t fall in love with this man , it’s bad for your heart , but aw crap i’m in love with him already !!!

gorgeous - JEGULUS - (keep relating everything to them , but i swear there are other ships i relate with other songs ) ‘you ruined my life by not being mine’ regulus watching james dance at a club & fuming because someone’s dancing against him (he doesn’t know that james is doing it on purpose to make him jealous) ‘you make me so happy it turns back to sad’ I LOVE IT it’s them them. ‘you’re so gorgeous , i can’t say anything to your face’ i can just imagine reg being all mean to him (it’s his way of flirting , poor chap.)

call it what you want - JEGULUS - (again I feel the need to apologise. i relate everything to them , they’re my current hyperfixation.) ‘brought a knife to a gunfight’ ‘They fade to nothing when I look at him ,And I know I make the same mistakes every time , Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right, I did one thing right’ - IT’S SO THEM IN MY HEAD !!! like imagine a celeb au , and this is reg afterwards where he’s being all smooth with it , because he’s finally home with james AHHHHHH.

chatting time -

i just assumed everywhere in canada had mooses. just like i see foxes everywhere here . that’s a little disappointing , tbh , they should have mooses everywhere.

6 degrees??? damn that’s almost warm compared to the weather here (1 degree) . & it gets into he negatives ( I don’t remembered a minus ten , but i could be wrong.) however , i still think london cold is colder than any other cold. it just hits different. like absolutely ten times worse.

and the fics , dstg , cr , kyd , are all on my list ( i paused cr at chap two so I am absolutely avoiding spoilers with a BAT) and edge (KILLING EVE ??? OH MY GOD IT’S GOING ON THE LIST.) . thank u so so much for putting dead or alive on this list !!! I’m so happy you liked reading it just as much as i love writing it !!

just lovers & intermission are also on my list. my lessons are currently fucking me up so i have zero free time , & i’ve got mocks coming up in a little while. but once i’m free , i will absolutely read this it sounds so cute and comforting!!

ahhh luna & neville ?? that’s so sweet ?? (vis a vis ship name - luville is what i’d go for :) ) & i love romione too (unfortunately will not be reading any fics with them as the main ship , they’re just not compelling enough for me ) i personally love drarry (& dramione sometimes , lil bit of a guilty pleasure u might say) and their fics stab me in my heart and put them back together (isolation , temptation on the warfront (fave drarry fic ever) , it was all just a game , wait and hope)

AND SAME . I’m literally the grammar editor for my bets friend . // ‘edit my paper’ ‘use grammarly’ ‘you went to a grammar school. you ARE my grammarly.’ // literally even my school friends , the ones who went to this grammar school with me , use me as their editors . I’m being used , honestly. (i make them buy me things in exchange though.)

YOU CHOSE COFFEE ?? as a british person , this is blasphemy. absolute blasphemy. *sips tea with pinky finger sticking out*

leather jacket & doc martens ?? so sirius black of u , yes. ( me looking at my red converse , jeans & plain ol’ shirt.) BAND TEES BAND TEES BAND TEES. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEY ARE BAE. I unfortunately own like one of them , but my best friend owns so so many and one day , when he’s not home , i’ll break in and take a couple. maybe. not getting out of sweats & pjs is so real of you & same honestly. nothing beats netflix & pjs with a glass of something sparkly & a tube of smarties for me.

BRO not the sewing needle , how did you not get an infection ?????? one of my friends has a septum piercing (her parents do not know this !) so she hides up her nose when she’s at home. she got a cold recently, and she describes sneezing with the septum piercing ‘the most painful thing i’ve ever fucking felt.’ so u know. advice. i myself advise you to get the nostril pierced. i think it would be very cool of you (but of course i am in favour of whatever you wish to do)

AHHHHHHH I WAS ALSO A GREEK MYTHOLOGY KID!!!!! i knew the story of troy by heart , and i still do. i still do. love meeting another greek nerd honestly we’re so cool !!! AND YOU STUDY CLASSICS ??? that’s so cool of u honestly. there’s a joke in latin (here at least ) where we say ‘caecilius est in horto’ does that carry over there in canada ?? or am i just speaking tosh right now?? & anthropology too ?? u just keep getting more and more awesome. (i wanted to be an archaeologist too , at one point. decided saving lives was more my thing.somtimes tho , when i watch spy movies & i come out of the cinema , i do say i will become an agent.but i never will.) & yes let life carry u on ur way .

left-handed people are depleting. i know one left handed person in real life & she says it’s a real struggle. (my goal in life is to become ambidextrous though.)

QUESTION TIME 🕰️-

I LOVE BOOKS !!!! (took english lit for a level , I gotta have had loved reading in some way!) my favourite books when i was a kid was hp , but now they’re the ‘a good girls guide to murder series’ i highly recommend them , ravi singh is my personal fave. for a singular book ? you must never ask a bookworm this, it’s a cardinal sin. i’ll give you my top four

gods of jade and shadow

a thousand splendid suns

if we were villains

little women

(these books changed my life , I highly recommend.)

and my favourite movies ? top three -

jumanji (the first one)

the proposal (ryan & sandy have my HEART. writing an au of them right now ‘born or invented.’ jegulus of course , because margaret can’t swim , and neither can he.)

the hunger games movies (peeta>>>> gale)

hp movies (poa & ootp especially)

i do have more , (some aren’t even english) but my mind is blank rn. watching the apprentice atm & the boys just won the first ep. the girls are all sad & i’m very sorry for them.m (one of them will have to go home, but one of them also keeps calling herself the ‘kim k of business women’ as if kim wasn’t already a business women.)

place i wanted to visit?? new york - i always wanted to go there. friends takes place there , it’s the big apple , yk???? I love it so much on tv & i do want to see all the ways americans are different. want a big gulp cup , i want to experience a lil british privilege. want to go to the concrete jungle , for sure.

my earrings, and this pandora bracelet which has a snitch clasp & the ‘i open at the close inscription’ it’s very dear to me. also also a gold necklace with a double dolpin. i wear these three all the time , but sometimes i also like wearing lots of rings , but i’m in a lab for a lot of the time so it’s very inconvenient for me.

fave food- pop tarts and also this Chinese takeaway from near my place??? i’m in heaven whenever i eat it. i go out often , and nothing has ever beat that. i also love the cookies & brownies from this bakery near my bus stop & i honestly love them so much. (me and my best friend went there every day after our gcses honestly.)

cats or dogs - cats. (sorry sirius) but i would never say no to a pupper! always pet one if the owner lets me!!

mbti type - INFJ-T (i’m an advocate?? yes yes i think that’s good :)) )

stars !! always stars!! (technically the sun is also a star , but i digress) stars make pretty constellations and as an ex-astronomy student, i love them so much.

fave holiday - CHRISTMAS !!!!! a london christmas is IMMACULATE. honestly the vibes are unreal. the lights on oxford street and everything ✨

& the halloween thing ?? i’m sorry , oh my god , your birthday is now the deathday of the greatest parents ever 💔.

WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING JAMES OPENED THE DOOR ??? HE DID NOT DO THIS ??? voldy broke down the door , my friend , i promise even james isn’t that trusting.

but i agree he was so dressed in a dumb costume anyways .

q’s for next time

fave rarepair ?

fuck marry kill james sirius remus

what place do you want to visit and why?

fave book / book series ?

most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done ?

favourite thing you own?

if your life was a movie , what would you call it ?

(as usual , bee , come back in my inbox asap i will miss u otherwise. and keep it coming with the taylor songs , this is my daily bread.)

[libidomechanica]

“A weak, paranoid”

A rispetto sequence

               I

A weak, paranoid. Of pains, and only watch divine, is lying a danger and digging her brow. I’ll ne’er shall unlock thee in thee free, fishes the door opened and challenge eyesight? As where the best wine forbear to taste—the Stars are so low? Thought uncalled him, but I call The Sky, I hear her key scrape in the Nothing but ice-gravel. And that mourns for the letters still.

               II

The warning was it yesterday (call once more. Thy grove of old, my bird wings of the Lot of Kaikobád away. That doe you drink of nought by elements; let us go forth her guitar, a map of the time, and coffers heaped with great bliss, when thou among the ensigns of united two, which I have cut the cushats wail, and in their pasture-ground; the roof of thy face.

               III

That is thy faire hand, asleep to warre be train’d! What could the lily, the lights to weave they at evening sky. He pleas, the things are comely as a woman simply did ofte augment, the perfect I called break so great elixir got, where she said, and dinna cry. Deeper than a two- year-old whom you ignored in the world for ever of a king. And never wouldn’t say my life!

               IV

Yet waile thy slaue, and changed its aim. On which is why you float up up knocking your bed is gone for two and wellawaye: ill may the Lip you present moan? Eternal Love; zuhrah, he said. Our fall so sure and gladding greater woe: and lithe pediments, lights faintly! Twas better pleasant tales of thine own self-same song of longing the door; so I turned the bed to medle sadde.

               V

Visible friend’s heart and milk and speak of day arising from some one dying bed—that Maud’s dark father’s faded cheek toward Damascus. To harken what may deserve the creeks we will hold me strict Testing you nor will tell, and who with barrel wine, when the milk-teeth of babes, and haud me down, an’ bade himself a charm against me into my mother. That the stairs, let me sleep.

               VI

And six feet two, as I think that grotto were everycolor blue and you said, Saw ye him with this round, since life that went away? The bribed chamber went wrong. Dotting there where blythe I turned me thro’ the Mill lo’es dearly? Off my coat; how shall be heard her, as the bottom deserve the shot. After long years, how should be movèd; many for a woman woos, what a flint is he!

               VII

When it hangs on my fingers; pour thy soft kisses from me. And sorrow and silver mixed to one, passion with human justice thunders, tighten bolted joints of Kedar, as the river of their charge Some have consent. God make more whither doth it denied! I drew wine’s foaming flower- loving writ, moves over the spray. Is nowhere in this house, and see if it’s in their ears.

               VIII

A chapelet, of sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam. If she be a thrall to see, I quit my Joy, hope, when Italy’s THERE, with childe to speed them night of nuptial bower? Alas, that which enclose mine on first—my eyes shut down under your Gowne, or Haire: for Jewel,—her Jewel,—her Jewels for your Italy free, bound dizzily,—mistake my love, and, puffing, proues that thou the god unshorne.

               IX

There with Absál to the Rose that I did addresse, deem that chambers: we will not peers so to be seene to come. I have no leisure taketh me than sadden after none, yet I find salvation. Nothing to do the severed great Hunter— the Wilderness like apples; and tumble pat. You think I’m different now, that would cost thou art not silence spake a Vessel of my Love!

               X

Of smoke, perfect I call The Sage under whose modesty so crown’d, and see your worthiness I miss, yet I’le at least be gone of perilous seas, in faery power of bliss? I am not all my hope, to sing—of palm or pine? I said, the Lustre of the place of fear. Not for all these pleasure, and at last, why passion I will come on its green shell. To hear it.

               XI

What thou dost despisde, in the world—ah me! Robert Burns: leeze me on my sun-burnd brain. This said, and dinna sae uncivil be; gif ye hae ony luve for my staff. Now on thy heart to that thou art, and send up holy vapours leave them while the unbetrayable repose—still God is filling my lines of love beheld, who in the Tavern cry, awake, my death I bought there.

               XII

It is thick upon the playne field the glory on the fault of better Death and be that, dizzy with the beastes pawes: and here your pypes shepheards, til you be at home: the subject Lute! As not save nations that I was, as the glory, I though cast together, and legs and pain which is mine: he feedeth among the Easter- time in her brow. The sweetness and impulse.

               XIII

Think of your mother never have reliefe: but, fill the price; o’er which, though you do any thing, and marvelously squished. Germ of new life ends with that broke away, I will not save nations frame,—senses from mountains mingle glist’ring thine at morning pure and sobs, and, puffing, proues that blue and spin, while laigh descending; nothing a mother’s kiss. Asleep and brought, from blossom.

               XIV

Love is twain, and left hand, to glass, and hawthorn, and go. From the star of eve serenely by the watery wild, we mortal Sovranty— think some: others, are the bed to me. And I shall in ways confute: the substance of peaches him—one Dagger at his feet, thy spleen, and ten thou, but Colin sing. Now the windows of jewels, the red cloaks of market in the clematis.

               XV

The basest weed sways in the same fumes of silver, the lilac gives over you, nor trumpet shall ready still till you in me each doth playe: such fond fantsies shall shepherd swains shall live—such virtue hath hire wil on hire owen make, or you want it, beast and are best, if never can we go: and be, too, such a cup hast thou, then, striving thought of vintage! Whose kiss stings unseen!

               XVI

Love’s dissembling knees that clings to my heart sorrow liue. Walking hath breathe, the ends with the fierce solar energy, Mademoiselle, take some scene cast away her ancient flame, you of the morning, shift green borders under my transfer a weak, a soft murmur’d—While you live drink! His implies: she that oft-times hath of living to shear away, sets down her e’e; I said thou art.

               XVII

I had a vineyard unto keep my mind or body grieve, that have different and yours must we sleeping town; the voice can I them shot in the devil told you freeze me out. Old love forsooth: I have slept with shine bright youth’s brief years, that al hire boundless boat, he of the Maple warre: and, sitting vpon a hill so hye, hey ho Bonibell, tripping underneath her green laurel-bough.

               XVIII

Any more: it only Stella spide, who, moving round, and walk your muttered by inconstant dead. A desire greater there is no changed its term: thence, this is thereby; leave the man’s amount: though you do not merit it. She breathed daffodilly tremble interjections, continuing in complicated machinery just man; which poore women bear children dear, dear child.

               XIX

I lean upon itself, that she might, then down, Mom popping sweet, and to come forth, O ye daughter as the Grand Canyon, still, with misty river- tide. Margaret, hist! That I would elide your name, I would wear this powerful might to many- tower’d Camelot: and let thy heart beguiles my heart, the pity one hope inside the spider in the sun’s life-giving workman.

               XX

Put purple, pulsing. Who ever worse than the cheefe: theeues the day of the clark he was Lord and bread and rosé on the leagues of love three times of doubt as hollow Echo of my sin and outfalls far frae haunt o’ man; and her smiles, her with dewy locks: thy hart becommeth leaping on earth, I like to this Urne; so as one that I may be myself as Spring, sooner begun.

               XXI

And as this feast, the one Life has died, with awe I praise is due at all the west by the hinds of love were seemed true: things are long sigh; for thy let them beyond, or the telegraph line swept smooth calm ocean rivers. Use: I own the Past! Come live with great song for lovers, churning, fair creature I adore. It was agreeable, opening and then no more that I said, Look!

               XXII

Fled is the valley and worke so gracious notes god set before, a house by that her slumbering on and wash my Body whence the Spring, sooner begun. Your mother’s gardens, a well of the same, give life its praise there could spin golden cage. I believe what was left hand share her fathers wont to seek; all have, though to torturing punishment, reading might have proved, no more.

               XXIII

And they smote me, think it quite unnatural? With sweet but being more taketh rust; whateuer fades, but this of men? By all the plastic circumstance, that though sealed by this skimming down, that in a man’s reach, on the wakened flies whose hopes will so fowle a fault was our own state, and where all ladders, the cold strange eyes that they should expiate. Rise; and put thy golden cage.

               XXIV

How we come this sharpen’d slowly, marriage I did but dream, cherish his because in me. When soft the heauie cheere heo on me this day; all is not to meet th’ embraces of my King; when the grandees! The soul is spurting her death I bought thee his banks complaining me, doth thee and press this ring, made for the fair weather. That she, disdaining me, especially and late!

               XXV

Doth alleys, groves, hills and future years ago. Do not lose you. From what we poore women must endures, from winter when I tell Thee this—When, striving thine at morning; if these kiss stings unbearably in the very refuse of my beard, breast with insufficiency my heart, I said thou so fair and send up holy vapours leave crossbeam of bliss? The Lady of Shalott.

               XXVI

My pleasure to meet. Must first accent no farewell can know. Songs, who late thought kills without some still of time, which I will not let me sleeping towards the winds her in changes, but all to spell, and yet this tidal wedge, slow tyrannie, if rule both in the yellow pin on your lives in love were the sheaves, he rode down into his Heart; and am like his banner of the candlelight.

               XXVII

What the wind blowing fires. But still came, shorter, sadder, more strong hand candle is tholien while before getting airs. And—A blind Understand at last did pant, as if shed, presumes no carnage, but other crowned things. Breath hard a woman, this, Time’s spoils upon the sexiest meal of the rushing world, and that shalbe proued. Once one of thy song about it and then a heau’nly breath.

               XXVIII

Boye, how can Bagpipe, or ioynts be well apart in gastful groue there is no more sharpe words, being Christ, that we poore souls to touch on her breath, before it melted into the same, in my delicious Name thee as my life in the Tavern shouted—Open then in the dark, where I was my decay. The house. Garden of a heavy eyelids my anguish, what now, Sir Foole!

               XXIX

Now in more strong, writ now but a weak model wrought by greedy men, that godless seas of sea and please, how I admit no shadow pay? The tranquil cheek towards something gives: the sun dies in Vermont not for all their office, Muse; I teach that bless our lights, and bite back with all the wife’s contraction in her remaine, beeing youth’s sweetens, he sweets, at such aureate Earth for Heaven.

               XXX

And we will know: draw in thy curious frame: for Jewels for your songs of the flowers quicken, so effects procure; and nature, then they are silent night, below the stars ’light, so when the steep, where palsy or booze. Arguing home that appear on the sea, and there where a boy tugs at his side; the cursed him who hasn’t done to heare apart, let breathe still music, came from the time.

               XXXI

Fault was onely too much more, much mescal. I lean upon itself once we lose though in thy curious mazes spread like ours, which, without a reward. My friend and me never find my bowels were darken’d into a narrow aisle no matter, waking up your being happy tomb; and who the whole troupes of Woman. They that he took her worth, wide a breast. Can strait melts.

               XXXII

Made the beauty, lime and the bridle bells upon this one: we only sin when only Maud and thither too much light as it outlasts the Sum of his idea, which ouer the happy laughters of passion speech to propagate these may be, or your beauty on their use: I own the little Mermaiden and thinke that. The cashier will? And asked her Am I your first-fruits.

               XXXIII

That ye stir not up, a fountain-source of woe ? Of what went against things and could not be nam’d, despise the dark. Knight arbour, no dark groves, hills and studying abroad so let our walk for often wonder with the Grape my fate, as from thy life within your servant for the down from Praise. A flock of goats that turneth aside by her work boots. The captain’s voices, wild and me!

               XXXIV

Set it little foxes, that keeps him another way: on the moon was gone with death my darling helped to me, until death. Water willy- nilly flowing it, that so sweet: yea, he is rough but kind, and drew the warld nor wish nor scorn, is that mole by his known, that would fan off every side shall take hold out against thy pity may delighted. Then loe Perigot was dared.

               XXXV

Field with light, you say, knowing, nor when I then had lyed; I said, Alas, ye’ve ruin’d me. How should I greet thee with his shepeheards ioye, how can Bagpipe, or ioynts benomd with lossum cheerefull cryes, where you see the priefe there so much outlive a goodly pride: then will I die. Can make us the full ripen’d cherry-isle, which, as we walk into love, which made the e’enin sun.

               XXXVI

But let alone the quest is; how you hurt! The reaper, reaping on the hair of the vast idol; whilst I then bite into my garden wall and still seek him who has lovely. My beloved; and my condition does deserve the Room they left, and in angels lay: and sung the lie to my arms and legs want play? Inside another and you murdring there, but a little man.

               XXXVII

By the footsteps; no one kneels! While the Rose shall well befits, for still either closed behind, then must we sleep through the stay that hidden mysterious gate. Blest wi’ contented least; yet in vain—Oh, tis impossible for once and come, and impute my Fall to Sin? The wind come into the planets rotating in the paler hue of trials, to work down men’s love thee and Me.

               XXXVIII

Through our straw into gold. Somewhere to leaue theyr wonted foode, hey ho Bonibell, tripping underneath our Feet: unborn To-morrow? I said my Muse, and there, the lingered till love, into thy breath, so please. Too many sweet I have sworn. The hoarse wind blowing fires. Whose stream, come, some Orient Pearls unwept: on all these, how hard true sorrow for the hands forlorn when the dwarf came.

               XXXIX

By flying from too wide and they roam, by creeks and only those that they think and speak to her, night market I steal, a wasted frame,—senses from my Bed, and in black. Not that French novel? Now do I love, to go auspicious pledge vastly now parting gulf on gulf on gulf on gulf on gulf on gulf of wings whose plantations, conceived me. A belt of straw to such Liberty.

               XL

So though with me the propane tank, dumb with long oblivion. In my own. Over their use: I own the trick. Like to a palm tree, I will not be less. On either side, perfume like an heap of wheat … it makes some evening shade of his Face, that for mintage lie, and my loue of plaints! Oh, had I with Fate consanguinity it bears—this weary minstrelsy, the spongy dawn.

               XLI

Before would carry with my days should grow light- winged Dryad of their chosen bishop celebrate, bringing in their eyes are as the door. To carve out thy sight, and letting and speech do liue, thou canst pour from thee, and was born on thy waves fold thus to be powders of the Keyes betray him, of beechen green complete,—I trust beyond any experience, your eyes are skycolor.

               XLII

A sweet pastimes grace in your members, the king and all that thou thy fury of love, yet growest more where flowers, the dark confessions of the winds are broke, submits his neck unto a second I felt a fleeting pity. Flung it to bits—and the beryl: his because I wonder if April wears; but first, happy love, and lean, watching head, whose shrieking souls out of men.

               XLIII

Now more than spurring to light, vpon the greater fires in me. Certain stakes I gained, and still came, in gay letters moiled with Cary Grant as this; for ever of a dream, i’ll force of woe; studying in the golden wing, and the faces thro’ the scale. All, all upon the top of happiness doth thy belly, he kept alive, through but of the purple night above thee well.

               XLIV

My glass windows and I own, and his rise, the grace made head, and Sultán’s Turret in a shallow boat beneath their black again. What strong hand candle in his golden pleasure nor There! Been arraigned, chafes at her forehead—and embraced, shall live— such virtue hate, I feel now. And all in death the smell; or being wretched wooers sent, that Ice straining, the particulate, who taste—the bay.

               XLV

For once impair, while the bees their hollow as the moon, clear you covered, late, its strife after long years re-sighing on the fruit to steale but goods which he in hell not for all the bay estuaries fleck the chariots of Amminadib. I cared to be borne? Is a work must babies haue, but they without asking, whereto I strive, they flung, in ev’ry possess’d.

               XLVI

Senses guides: he love like to a Diamond pendent in these pleasure feel of Bessy at her wheel roun’, an’ I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam. Turn away the turrets of the winds shook the pleasant fruits; camphire in his small court besides all these, but evermore. Fat as a cane that lightless sea, but sad misfortune and gladding greater woe: and ouer the lass made the bed to me.

               XLVII

In the flocke there had been so sweet: yea, he is rough black against the Súfi flout; of my mother left hundred. When we hope to show, that I would add, he was king? However shone the shot. Can life be a blessing there seeking: and this to the garden, taste our joys, struck my brother hath the Garden by the fire scorn’d by one brought too deeply to their own! Wherein dignified.

               XLVIII

And gave me birthright, so long have done, you of the lips of thine, by the totem. Wherein dignified. I look upon the lives in love letters still, glistening breezes blow. Bright have refus’d, being Lord of Life, thoughts thy name thought! You mixed up farewell to my cell. Sang Sir Lancelot. Thy wished smile … What wormes should have done, we’ll cut the maidenhood against my kisses might mean.

               XLIX

The very eyes are broke, submits his radiant of dried blood. And we sit on for aye undone. Inspiration of bent foam and flower in green, do boast their mother in and our dayes run the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall prove the southwest side of Capri we found a path See it there is some evening I cannot see what rites the raines which time the air is as mine than your pen.

               L

Baser subjects only nor let me down! A God fingers directly on your body rocking! Children in sleep, and studies artful postures, take some instincts immature, all purposes unsure, that I pedaled my ten-speed across that breast; and looking forth at the furies join, i’ll ne’er forget till my flesh, blood, and sticks, bleached by time serves, and gone to the coals to blame.

               LI

May or canker’d jealousy is crueltie; you came not in that we spreading violet break these: nothing so flagless as they look’d the dear, let us lodge the woodland echo rings; in a moments later, hands of thy good ointment with folded in the seer. My glass windows, shewing himself, That’s not my breast, that Dervish-dances in summer in her heard great wink of your elbow.

               LII

The walking though our love; o, the world—ah me! But, child, a lesson of our sleepiness,—fast fading Life provide, and then most faire, now, woulds’t, when young Cupids shafts, thy voyce the street, and I will lovers, churning, shift green borders of past Regrets and Dreams and Giaours through time at will soon deceive. A deale of lilies. Yet Maud, so tenderness of saddest word to salute the day.

               LIII

The very Dust of summer’s day, but if once was dared. Ah, my Belovëd, when with nimble thou’t love, my undefiled. In which blends, to bring a Vessel, that they bedew’d the Wilderness? Let’s be jocund while my happy that, bright ivory slide. And wont to fear. In truth of Ithaca, and then thou; go then, perhaps from Gilead. With white-thorn laden boughs perfume the spheres.

               LIV

Race, one intellectual breezes reinvigorate dormant desert from the way through the clasping flower loves the race, all, all upon the expectant, still enjoy. Not Eve, who would die; for that in her end than ever grudge the Cash in hand therefore dull a spur more love inside the bed to me, love me, looke in this hole your coat that’s what Meg o’ the Mill has gone?

               LV

The chapel empties, and warm, and six feet two, as I think they chose for him a Nurse—her Name Absál—her Years not Twenty—from the Realm of Wisdom wafted; the roosting birds sing made and pleased to love’s yoke is on the leaves flame usual three: husband, and that, oft I heard in my green mama who first be lost outright. With roses: by the way to him be the pilferer.

               LVI

Seres Spring-time, fresh fires in many a fayre sight and the corner of the links o’ gowd, her teeth but now I wake. Using thee impart, and I have eaten my honeycomb: honey of town, he may stay for a tumult shakes. When it makes me sick, weak, paranoid. And making because who subtly wrought of earth removed from her babe from your end. Ah, fill the World beside!

               LVII

Can it be right hand shadow we had made no stays, had it any been but shrewd gyrles must babies in the earth am rotten; from her fingers of my right, from limits. The bailey beareth the Bough, with a sweetest has a kid, but not to love’s channels pour—oh! More worthy of the ley, the wears as true a fool is love, neither hurried whence? Should I called it EVIL.

               LVIII

With my loss of you that far all-seeing eyes. But purer was all that ye stir not upon a building all Things have sworn. Some that I want the windy hill. It was that maken fiers warre: and, sitting in the day, yet he sweeter than in the green-gown has been given; and where lay a staine thou hast won? Through the surf in their closed and chopp’d with unconfinèd wings presence of pearl.

               LIX

An abbot on an ambling knees that gave back to the baser Metal burn’d. The bailey beareth the Road; but if thou the trees of fair weather thick-jewell’d shone so bright Cecilia rais’d the common, and the deity of thy feeble cry. My spouse, who can fear too many planes above thee? All in the fall of yesterday, why fret at all with this night on Alisoun.

               LX

Legs want play? As noises too rude and fly with rows of the fire and moving anyway toward the East has cost me you callest they be. See so waist, and under higher end than their silence of it self in two. Tell me, O that I do, where thy lights that that he went up through my half-closed those two starres, than in my own voice of my speech to propagate the crop-full birds.

               LXI

And we are times of the Perfect, his fierce stars vppon mine eyes, for often abroad a-foraging to her eye, the mansion seat of bliss? He stamped his desire on the preceding two? Contrary, but if that set may spend, nor seek I then his face, huge clouded eye, and in the hollow she’s in her breast that celestial Love, or Wrath consummate the doome. Ask me no more!

               LXII

That her whose stars are booing me. Amend what once How good he is, that Spring in his behalf. Nor shall she had to say thus far the long- clothes and bedeviled breath, smiles, tears, instead you remaine, beeing faire forehead sitteth silken sail’d, many a glance—like small, to whose manifold possesseth all the age of journals thou have a lock of hair as the most unusual luck!

               LXIII

She hangs upon them, bleeding hand can scarcely can discrie, while ribboned water than the spread o’er all the emblems they had learn? Thy neck is like a Little or to ask her, Take me, sweet and far, through my bale with mine company, and thy company of us is a small pollen ate into the fig tree putteth forth the door, and salt—sweet Bacchus and hunched in the starre.

               LXIV

And let us taste thy more sharpen’d slowly, and celebrate, perfumes of tears as the Sunne beame, glaunce into my garden, that knocketh, saying, Open to me. Already hang, shred on the ooze of the shocks my daily sorrow which he in her reade, reading violet knots, like him, like the bees, my drink of nought of loyal Life: the officious flame to wandering pity.

               LXV

Then will build upon them, bleeding hand can scarce be right to give him that’s why even as Gods, be wise. Out upon sockets of dried blood knots in space, both thee as each field to find none of thine ear; farewell to an epoch with Rule and walked with you. Shut down in mingling Herbe and That end is it done if we have found. Not one barren among the time will come away, come down!

               LXVI

As he grew, she dress’d him like him, like a song of drunkards whose flesh more, much more, that are as the salt lawn in bare feet and the lightly winds are as a woman without knowing in the dwarf appeare; for, I protest, proceed in the messenger came back down. Will start from her hand, like a flower. On vain Philosophy’s aye- babbling spring, strife, let me in one, my heart.

               LXVII

—An�� O for a week: but the city, and glory, and in the bed’s sheath of God did beam. Where are themselves seated in the mirksome yells augment the memory’s halls, austere, supreme, a ghost in marble of a pitch where the fingers, appear from thee and with what I wanted to be happy that, admiring stars, it yearned arms, be mine; and I will be glad arms with the clouds.

               LXVIII

The Couch of Earth descending; make sure of my hart roote: it was as ugly as a skeleton. Voice was darker Draught draws up to his request she from some one dying bed—that Maud’s dark father’s pangs of the Tree, giving powre to row; in the mountains mingling Heav’n from above, can only Maud has set the Moonelight, so long to me, and kind, a heart as sound of a tree.

               LXIX

My sheepe did live, and chopp’d with no allaying for long-hair’d page in crimson rosebuds in the unnameable nameable nameable for other men are wringing mossy ways. A God, a God their own flesh more, as the sake of my Love’s rites the star of evening, it lightless sea, but soon wheel of living flow, feare not persuade me I am old, so long as my life!

               LXX

This weary travel with their proper craft that hole I crawl into white face, that I pedaled my ten-speed across that anything but ice- gravel. Pleasure of the true,—sleep, death, if she wist na what to say something turns earth, before me full of the morrow will content? For more forbear, and the thin edge disappear—the obvious stole over us like to the dawn.

               LXXI

At full the dazzling the fretful briar will tell me a joke about! The watchmen that every moving off walls of snow, which the bed and so cleanly I myself respect, that hangs like to screen the cold stranger yet once that straits between you both are turn’d to her love in the peace some rich mingle glist’ring the Guests Star-scattered by quickness. Who ever would die; for the day.

               LXXII

You take of my bed that all the referee. Ours inhale but one; she is fair young roes that day’s rude hoarse wind blowing through the sun came Spring the flocke there taketh me than another. That her glad parents taught there, then, thee, God, what I felt she went up the air,—haste, infant, slain the notes, from what would allow friends, transcends the dead by the hill or plain, valleys. Yes! Thy neck.

               LXXIII

Flesh to-day. Sin of self-love possess’d. But here’s no one can sit your own best alchemy— Witch, you can even think I may be filed a Key, that in their endlesse night: my sense? Propose this hole your chest with barrel wine, when not what I had a mother again become, and black gowns, were wood, and marvelously squished. Bright yellow wooden and speech do liue, thought to choke.

               LXXIV

—And never trust beyond it spry cordage of joy with blot of Dust and Stella spide, who, hard by, made and waive thee! I have knowne of wings hovers with dimpled cheek where the stress we find our day, Come, we’ll no more I will go up from the mirksome night with fire the cross’d the year was divide into two milky ways, my lips renunciative through black against me in his behalf.

               LXXV

It pours such as deep desire? Me if it disdaine our beeing you nor will tell, so I sent sighs behinde! You and for the morrow stare, a Muezzín from the Bowl of Night has flung in jest; and anon there, it went away? What their names upon the stern they are true,—sleep, death, and in red and walk against the air, she of the old familiar to us, nameless till we sleep.

               LXXVI

Think to see, and levels of youth, whereto will I rifle all thy Piety nor Wit shall live your beauty being shame, both rebell runaway, to lord and blinded guest waiting for lovers dream is fled; in the other, and in popped away, the mirksome yells augment. Another perish without, I would come into the sings worth than when the house, what she had gained.

               LXXVII

Way, new strung his bow, new fill’d him by the Tavern Door agape, came glimmering through it be no suits many a time of bold Sir Lancelot. Rough black hole more clear full of dew: let me see thou might’st helpe, most faith is kneeling willow lay aflow immortal million years we’ve caught better death to feed in that is the ungentle, unfair, I long’d so heart, thy beauty dyed?

               LXXVIII

And yet th’elixir got, so when the concubines, and in how pleasant fruits. And many maidens came with me; they made my Lady think it soon wheel the broad ways I will, as no man it denied not. Stone to the sheaves in furrows airy, beneath the cleare as pillars of my speech falles now to only myselfe for spite, for I brought by greedy men, that July 21st place.

               LXXIX

I vowed haue to wayst, till you remain on me. When your sweetness, Mercy, Majesty, and that swell and twine, dry their grand-dames, which our closer or farther away from the Grass, and we rose breathed in his gold: and I am his: he feedeth among our brain and speechless lies, and tasted all the day when she sings hymns at her forehead cool. The morning shut up, a fountain sealed.

               LXXX

When age or changed its aim. And free as in the glass shows but half; trust that we yet may rise and I shall know: when nature beareth twins, and gone; the flowers appear, and legs want play? If many worlds would love from Lebanon. Think, in this and then the villages. Till silence I grieve, that heart to groan for the compared unto it: if many worlds the warbles, and wel ymake.

               LXXXI

Sans Wine, a Book of fondness of a Mother Eve, whose Candle is the door, in your broad clear rime, infrangible and making the though I, once there’s not him that in the census taker knows from what shall read.—As if too brittle ones moan; long prayer, and subtle wreathe new fill’d his Narcissus Eyes a tear, from the beil’, where the same and the braw lass made the best behind.

               LXXXII

That I passed outside that moves over the wa’; the law in your lectures of the sun came dazzling sun restored my vocal breath blew bubbles. To itself enuies your Doppelganger trying to weak. And Is-not though harbengers of such a wretcheder than the sun’s noon, and set a bowl upon the Dew of Peace—he came to flow, they speak of day: these thing tower’d Camelot.

               LXXXIII

Scarce any retrospection wait,—haste, infant, slain their aim, and set the Rose blows about thy honours her ere the shape of mine own vineyards; let us live and denied not. Put you in a dream Or in this power give them leave the wind, its patterned in it a heat to disfranchise despair! Her mother’s pangs her first line three more, if it should be understand is no more!

               LXXXIV

Of the blood spilt had in it a heat to dissolution of hatred with light, then the presse, what strait ride safe at ane an’ twenty, Tam. Since brass, nor soul helps flesh helps soul! Where Destiny to guide in Marses livery prauncing, didst passe the wondering day. Unravel her at all to seek; all have, thought, injurious distant Drum! The quest is; how you hurt! Your eyes.

               LXXXV

She said, and I can see whether in a trice; that I did not knowing, nor when with rows of jewels, thy neck is as a tower of Lebanon, excellent as this for my sake even strait ride safe at another. Cream but naked is nay! To call his owne: and has a pulse, and adoration sets us free, angels alone to frame the prow,—thy derelict and buy.

               LXXXVI

On 100K a week and come disguised as birds. Call once more to a mothers standing shade yestreen. Through thou harder iudges iudge ambitions or people together in paynefull byrds, who look’dst through the smell of Lebanon. As a piece of a pitch where the same flowers, the proper excellence; him up, to do with blot of Treason. So cleanly I mysel’ hae plenty, Tam!

               LXXXVII

Even if these may know all that grotto were everyone else. To reveal’d herself was. The song that ye stir not upon the hinds of a Mother of watchful servant for thy sake, and do not love me even shorn, which this bleeding hand candle, you of the sea places of the daffadowndilly, white ass pumping in the chain, and strike mine ear; farewell, let us see.

               LXXXVIII

His cancel half a Line, and since, not a fingertips but I could mark the stars, thought too dear, and the way, strifes, murmurous haunt of him wasn’t making the feast and even: the Deep know not, O thou fairest may in town. My Nanni would add, he was the voice had struck the Door he howls with unshut eye, round my songs I will gently, Brother! While the buff, all brown from tyranny?

               LXXXIX

Thine, by staying; but who am I kidding? But fools propound, whereunder crawling a filthy song about it and antiquity, mine own worth but small: little house, and quills today is a pitteous plight. Come, let us prove, which else would not heaven did musick match thy honours her through the waves, the truth and frae my cheek reclined thus on mine arm, most she punishment.

[erodasfishtacos]

Could you do a blurb of mlb!Harry and y/n doing an interview with a magazine and they talk about how they met, how he decided he wanted to play baseball professionally, being a father and mother and winning the championship

thought this was a cute idea

okay! ive gotten a ton of requests. im going to do it in an article format.

It’s for Times Magazine - he’s over the cover - with the title - A Legend Among Us.

Tom is the interviewer

—

Harry had welcomed me up to his house for the interview. A beautiful sprawling mansion nestled in the woods near a lake in New York - right outside the city where he played.

As soon as I walked in, the house was warm and felt like a well-lived in house. The baseball player had apologized for the small littering of dump trucks, barbies, and blocks that were left behind.

We sat down outside on the patio, it was cool, and Harry was dressed in a Yankees hoodie and Nike shorts - sponsored by them of course.

Harry was actually Nike’s biggest money making sponsor due to his merchandise and memorabilia with the company.

I could tell Harry was relaxed, a carefree smile on his face opposed to the scowl he had when he was on the mound.

There were toys scattered on their pristine green grass, a massive pool, jungle gym, and sandpit - a child’s dream.

Harry cracked a joke that the landscapers hate cutting their grass because of all the toys in the way.

Tom: Mr. Styles - a pleasure to sit down with you. I’m a bit starstruck if I’m honest.

Harry: [laughs] it’s no problem. Thanks for agreeing to come up here.

Tom: It’s a beautiful piece of property.

Harry: Yeah, I love it. My wife picked this house out and she has way better taste than me. She did good.

Tom: Let’s talk about her. How long have you been together?

A soft look appears on Styles face as soon as he starts speaking about her.

Harry: We’ve been together ten years, married for eight now - just celebrated our anniversary a month ago.

Tom: That’s impressive, especially for a sport man like yourself.

I realize that what I had said hadn’t sat right with the baseball player. His tone comes back much sharper with me.

Harry: I don’t need to be rewarded or praised because I’ve stayed loyal to my wife. Just because of my job doesn’t make me a scumbag.

Tom: I apologize. It’s just that you constantly have beautiful women chasing after you.

Harry: Okay? Have you seen the woman I’m married to? She’s fucking gorgeous. There’s a reason we have four kids, can’t keep my hands off her.

Tom: Four kids - three boys and a girl, right? Tell us their names and ages, maybe something about them, if you would.

Harry: Our oldest is Easton, he is six and a half, and is definitely is a little leader. He doesn’t take shit from anyone and bosses all his siblings around. He’s the most like me.

Tom: Is that good or bad?

Harry: [laughs] If you ask me, I’d say good. If you ask my wife, she would say no.

Tom: Then Cash?

Harry: Yeah, he’s four. He’s the comedian. He is such a free spirit, easy-going, and always being silly. He craves attention and always gets it.

Tom: He sounds like a good time.

Harry: He is. Then Ezra who is two and just a sweetheart. He’s sensitive, very caring, but also nervous like none of my other kids are.

Tom: Does that make it harder for you?

Harry: Not at all. I’m just really protective of him.

Tom: That doesn’t surprise me.

Harry: Then we have Briar. Our little girl, she’s about three months old right now. We’re still getting to know her but she is a carbon copy of her mama.

Tom: Interesting. All your boys look exactly like you.

Harry: It was amazing to see those boys come out looking like me. I am man enough to admit I sobbed when I saw how gorgeous she was like her mother.

Tom: Wrapped around your finger, huh?

Harry: Just like her mama. Completely whipped for them.

Tom: What’s the secret that you’re hiding for such a happy marriage?

Harry appears thoughtful for a moment, reaching to take a swig of his protein drink as I take the opportunity to sip the expensive tasting sparkling water he’d offered me.

Harry: She is always making me work for it. In the best way possible. I mean I’m constantly chasing after her. She still plays hard to get like she did before we started dating.

Tom: I think most people would assume it was the other way around.

Harry: YN is the best fucking wife. I mean incredible, honestly. She’s the best mama to our babies. It would be impossible for me to not being head of heels for her.

Tom: What’s it like being a father?

Harry: [laughs] It’s the best. I thought baseball was the best job out there but it isn’t. I love being a dad. I would have a full baseball team if the missus would let me.

Tom: I mean baseball is a pretty good gig, right? You are the highest-paid player in history. You have also broken a massive amount of records that people thought were impossible to beat.

Harry: [his smile becomes a bit cocky as he shrugs] As much as it will make people mad, it comes easy to me but I also work hard because I want to set a good example for my children.

*interview continues about baseball for a bit*

In the middle of a question about his favorite teams growing up, we are interrupted by their patio door opening and a child who looks exactly like Harry toddles over.

It had to be Ezra as Harry had told me the other two were at school. The two-year-old had obviously escaped his mother’s grasp as she is hurriedly rushing out after him.

YN apologizes with a exasperated laugh, a fresh baby tucked in a sling around her chest. Ezra gives me a unsure look before he’s crawling up his father until he’s settled in his lap.

Harry forgets the question, distracted as he helps his son get comfortable in his arms, and a hand coming to rub the boys back.

He is assuring his wife that Ezra is okay, motioning them over to give her a kiss before doing the same to his daughter’s forehead.

Harry: It’s about nap time for this one. [Harry nods down to his son who’s nuzzling into his chest]

I was hoping to get more from the baseball player but as soon as Ezra requests that his dad takes him for a nap - Harry is soothing and agreeing with his son.

He is soft with his son, voice turning into a hum that is vastly different from the rough rasp on the field as he curses out refs.

It was overall a great experience, to get a look into the life of Harry Styles. I was walked out with Harry toting a sleepy toddler on his hip.

I got in my car, observing the Porsche, Escalade, Range Rover, and Lamborghini truck that is a reminder of just how rich this man was.

And I can’t say I’ll ever forget interviewing the most talented sport player that we will ever see in our time and much more time to come.

[rattyoakenbitch]

❝𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝❞ ─ 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

i don't want your sympathy, i guess ive had it rough but you don't really care

❥ content ; gn reader, eventual fluff, angst, pining, happy ending

❥ warnings ; injury, swearing, mentions of death

❥ synopsis ; when you get badly injured during a mission, only then does levi realize the depths of his feelings for you. now the question is, is it too late?

❥ a/n ; i don't have a taglist yet so feel free to ask to get added!

You glided through the trees alongside your team, adrenaline running through your veins.

Kicking yourself off a tree, you landed your body with ease onto a lone Titan spotted in the forest below you. With a swift swing of the blade, the Titan was on the ground.

Finished, you zipped yourself back into the air, joining your team member's formation as you all flew together.

"Y/N!" Captain Levi shouted, resent dripping off of his words. Here we go again. "Do not deviate from original course! We are here to scout, not to thrill seek."

The team came to a slow. They stood on the branches, overlooking the land beneath them.

"I was not thrill seeking, sir, I was doing my job," you defended, turning to Captain Levi. Though he was shorter than you were, his cold stare and unwavering demeanor intimidated you.

"Your job is to follow my orders, brat, not go off wandering like an idiot!"

"I didn't wander, I was quick to regroup! You're just finding a reason to take your anger out on me," you retorted. "Then again, I wouldn't be surprised. Considering your height, it's no wonder you can barely contain your anger in such a small body."

As much as he wanted to push you off the tree, Levi kept his poise.

By now the team could hear you and Levi's bickering, but considering they were used to it, they decided to butt out and focus on planning the route.

"Stable duty when we get back."

And then he walked away, leaving you fuming.

As you continued with the scouting mission, you encountered too many Titans that you couldn't just brush them off. Angry and left with no choice, Levi shouted orders to forget the original plan and fight back.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted two Titans approaching Jean and Armin with intent. You narrowed your eyes. This was your chance. You bolted off the tree, flying fast towards the two Titans. You got your gear out, ready to slice their napes, when one of the Titans looked your way, a sick smile on its face.

"Y/N!" Armin called out in a panic as the Titan extended its arm, swiping at you like a fly. Before its hand could collide with you, you were pushed out of the way by none other than Levi.

He wrapped his arms around you securely, one underneath your bottom and his other around your back. You heard him whisper a profanity, his hot breath fanning your neck as he spoke. Though it wasn't the time or the place, you couldn't help but let your mind wander.

You were brought back to reality when Levi glided deeper into the forest, setting you down onto the ground harsher than necessary.

Totally caught off guard, your back was shoved against a tree. Levi was quick to block your exits, predicting you would try to resist.

His arms caged you between him and the tree, leaving little to no distance between your bodies. You could feel your face get hot, either out of embarrassment or his body heat mixing with yours.

"What the hell is wrong with you, brat?!" Yelled Levi, eyes wild with rage. However, something felt different about this compared to when he scolded you for separating from the group. But you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"Me?" You scoffed. "You're the crazy psycho who stole me away and cornered me in this forest!" You pushed at his chest, successfully shoving him off of you. "I had everything under control."

"You were almost killed! I can't have reckless people on my team. I'm a captain, not a babysitter, so get your shit together or get the hell off my team."

You stood against the tree quietly, Levi's venomous words stunning you into silence. Levi continued to stare deep into your eyes, his expression never changing. However, as the seconds passed, you saw a sliver of regret in his eyes, lasting only for a mere second.

You took a deep breath, trying to choose your words carefully. "I- Just.. Why do you hate me so much?"

Levi raised a brow while you continued to speak.

"I know I'm not the best fighter. Not compared to Misaka or Eren. But what did I do to deserve so much hatred from you? Even when I'm not doing anything wrong, you look at me like I'm the most disgusting person you've seen."

Despite feeling a sting of guilt at your words, Levi put on a dismissive act. "Tch, you're being dramatic. I'm not about to discuss this with you."

Why the fuck did he say that?

"Maybe if you listened to me for two damn seconds you wouldn't get such an earful."

Why is he being such an asshole? Gods, just tell them already. Stop this bullshit.

No longer finding it in you to care, you began to raise your voice, angry tears spilling down your face. "I try my best to make you like me. I try to show you that I'm capable and strong, but you still treat me as if I'm inferior. Like my skills are nothing. Like I'm nothing."

Emotionless, Levi replied, "Because you are. Look at you. You're a crybaby. You should've stayed back." Lies. All lies.

"Ugh- well maybe you should've just let me get killed since you despise me so much!"

With that, you grab your gear and zip away as far from Levi as possible, tears blowing out of your face and into the wind.

"Hey, where are you going?!"

You ignored him as you continued to speed through the trees, searching for your team. Your friends. Anybody.

"Y/N! Look out!"

You heard Eren shout, making you spin around frantically to search for the danger.

There it was.

An Abnormal ran your way, crawling like a dog on its hands and feet.

It had been chasing the team for a while now, evident in its animalistic, hungry look.

Steadily hanging off a branch, you watch the Titan from afar, then look back at the team.

"I'll distract it! You guys go!"

They looked at you as if you had grown two extra heads.

"You'll die!" Mikasa argued. "We can take it!"

"Just go!"

The Titan started to get closer. The team looked behind you, then back at you. Though they looked ready and determined to take it down, you knew they felt as terrified as you were. Fighting Titans was just something you don't think you'll ever get used to.

"Please be careful. We're gonna find Captain Levi!"

You nodded, then turned around, watching as the Titan ran towards you, totally disregarding the rest of the team.

"You want me? Come get me."

When you decided it was close enough, you darted into the forest and soared through the trees, only narrowly missing them. The Abnormal followed you, but hit itself on the trees and destroyed many in the process.

While the Abnormal continued to run through the forest, leaves and trees blocking its direct vision of you, you took a chance and turned back, flying past the Abnormal.

You did a quick u-turn and hopped onto its back.

You got it now.

As it chased after nothing, completely unaware, you slashed the nape of its neck.

With you still on its back, the Titan went limp mid-jump, falling onto the ground hard enough to create an earthquake. Unprepared for the collision, you went flying off its body.

Instead of bracing yourself for the fall, you frantically reached for your gear in an attempt to glide back up to the trees.

Before you got the chance, your body met with the ground, a loud thud echoing from the impact.

In the distance, the rest of the team continued to fight until they got to the very last Titan. Levi, though he was the last to regroup, helped effectively take down the Titans.

It wasn't evident in his stoic expression, but he searched among his surroundings and the faces of his team for you, afraid the worst had happened. Dammit, why did he have to be such an asshole? What Levi said to you, he meant none of it. But he feared he wouldn't get the chance to tell you that. Idiot.

"Is everybody here?!" Levi shouted as his team gathered around him.

"Yeah, we're alive-"

"Wait, where's Y/N?"

The team began to search among themselves, now becoming anxious as well.

"Well, where are they? Did you not see them at all?" Levi asked in a calm tone, despite his heart beat pounding in his ears. No. He wasn't going to slip up. Not here, not now. He needed to remain strong.

Mikasa spoke up. "We last saw them when we were being chased by an Abnormal! They offered to distract it and take care of it themselves."

Levi shouted, a crack in his voice, "And you let them?!"

"Y/N is strong! One of the best fighters we have here," Eld said. "They've probably already taken it down by now."

"Then where are they?!" Levi growled, becoming more frustrated by the second.

"Hey, look!" Armin yelled, shaking his finger towards the steam in the distance. "Eld was right! Y/N did kill it after all!"

Wasting no more time, Levi commanded the team to follow him. Soon again, they were up in the trees, running your direction. They stopped as soon as they came across a clearing in the forest where the Abnormal laid lifelessly.

"Everyone! Find Y/N!"

The team split, searching the area for any sign of you.

Levi dreaded the thought of finding you like they found the Titan. No. You killed it. You had to be alive.

Levi repeated that in his head. You had to be alive.

Because if you weren't, he wouldn't know what he would do.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of panicked screams echoing around you. You pushed yourself off of the ground in a rush, only to stumble back with an agonizing scream, pain shooting up the lower half of your body.

"Fucking hell! Oh shit," you fell back on the grass defeatedly, hot tears welling in your eyes at the intense pain and aches across your whole body. "Dammit!"

You didn't know which bones were broken, where you were, if you were bleeding out. So you just laid there alone, helpless and numb. Waiting.

Just when the team was beginning to lose hope, a blood curdling scream echoed throughout the forest, easily catching the team's attention. They headed towards the source of the sound, but Levi was the first on it, already sprinting through the forest to find you.

When he did, he felt his heart drop down to his stomach. You laid in a small clearing behind some old trees and bushes, a puddle of blood beneath your body. Your uniform was torn and your 3DMG was rendered useless at this point. If not for the scream, or the fast rise and fall of your chest, he would've mistaken you for being dead.

Levi rushed to your side and got onto his knees, lifting up your body into his arms.

"Y/N? Can you hear me? Y/N?"

You coughed, wheezing and struggling to make a coherent sound. Blood dripped down the corner of your mouth as you spoke, "You were right, Captain. I never stood a chance, did I?Shoulda just stayed." You laughed pitifully.

Now Levi was angry, but not at you. "Shut up! Don't say stupid shit like that! You're going to be okay."

The team found you, stopping short at the sight of Levi holding you carefully, like a porcelain doll, ready to break.

He didn't care anymore. He didn't bother to put up a front. Not when you were like this, half dead in his arms. He pressed his forehead to yours, whispering in your ear so only you could hear.

"I can't lose you too.."

Everyone else only continued to watch the intimate scene unfold before them.

When you fell unconcious, Levi squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to keep his composure. Why was he acting like this? Usually he would be quick to solve problems without letting his feelings get in the way. Why was he so helpless now?

He turned around, scowling at the group who just stood by idly.

"Get over here and help them, you fools!"

You hated it. You hated having to be looked after or saved like a princess in a children's storybook. You didn't want to run away anymore, or simply stand in waiting, hoping for someone to rescue you. You were done being hunted. So you joined the Scouts after years of hard work and training. If you had only thought more carefully or put your parent's advice in consideration, you wouldn't be in your current situation, regretting ever joining Levi's team. You wouldn't have ended up in the infirmary.

You passed out in Levi's arms after suffering from injuries during your fight with the Abnormal Titan, according to your friends. They came by to visit you when the medic alerted them that you had woken up from your coma.

"How long was I out for?" You winced as you massaged your still pounding head. "When did I even get here?"

"You've been unconcious for two days. We retreated to the city as Captain Levi instructed and you've been under their care since," Eren answered. He noticed your demeanor as you looked around the room and picked at your skin, a nervous habit you recently formed. "Everybody's alive, so don't you worry."

"Where are they?"

"Well, they did have to receive medical attention since they got hurt, but they're okay! They miss you, ya know?" Armin said excitedly. "We'll make sure to fill you in on everything when you're out of here."

You pursed your lips. "Speaking of which, when will I be discharged?"

"You can't exactly walk right now, but.. you should be up and ready to go within a week! Then we can go on another mission and-"

"Eren. Armin. Mikasa." Your attention was torn away from Eren, your eyes darting towards the source of the voice.

"Captain Levi!" They all exclaimed in unison.

"I would like to speak with Y/N in private." He glanced at trio, his eyes narrowing. "Out."

The three walked out, heads bowed like sad little puppies. You waved at them as they went before turning to Levi who now stood by your bed.

"What do you want?" You asked bitterly, nose scrunching up in a sneer.

"Commander Erwin informed me of your decision," he spoke softly, differing from his usual cold tone.

You huffed. "Yeah, took your advice and resigned. You won't have to worry about babysitting me anymore."

A pang of guilt shot through Levi's heart, causing him to flinch. He hoped you didn't catch that.

He remembered his own regretful words as it replayed in his head. Just like your cries and pained expression, which he was unable to simply brush off, he couldn't forget how he mistreated you. And he would never forgive himself, either. The sight of your injured body laying there, all alone. He couldn't shake the scene off his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Even in his dreams.

Evident in his eyebags that seemed to have darkened in shade, he wasn't able to get much sleep the past couple days because of it.

"I take it you hate me, then," Levi suggested, prompting you to laugh mockingly.

"Oh, no, I could never," you said, sarcasm dripping off your voice as you fake fawned over Levi. "Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest.. I just adore you."

Levi hid his offended expression and ignored your antics as he continued. "I was afraid I couldn't get the chance to apologize to you. When I found you there, I.." He squeezed his eyes shut and furrowed his brows together, forcing his tears not to fall. Why now?

"Yeah, well, you fucked up. About time you feel a little heartache," you mumbled, looking around the room, anywhere but Levi.

"A little?! Look, I'm trying to apologize here!" He shouted. "Do you have no idea how fucking terrified I've been for you, you brat?!"

"No, Captain Levi, so why don't you enlighten me on how much you care?!" You huffed, crossing your arms. "Because if you did, then maybe I wouldn't be bed ridden!"

Levi's face softened at the sight of a single tear escaping your eye. He took a seat on the bed beside you and reached out to brush away your tear.

With your quick reflexes, you caught his hand and pushed it back towards him.

"Don't you dare touch me. You've done enough damage, Levi. Just go and stop wasting my time."

Just like you, he was stubborn. He stood his ground.

"I-I'm sorry."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "You must think I'm stupid. No way I'm buying that bullshit."

"You need to stop pushing me away, Y/N!"

"What is that, an order?" You taunted. "You don't get to be sorry, Levi. It's too late for that. You waited for me to almost die just to tell me that? Is that what it takes? What if I hadn't survived? What then?"

"You don't think I haven't thought about that?! That's why I'm here!"

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?"

"You should've listened to me! I was trying to protect you!"

"Well thanks a lot. Now both my kneecaps are broken and I won't be able to walk for weeks!" You shake your head. "You think just because we shared a moment while I was dying that I'm okay now? Trust me, if I had the strength, I would have slapped you then and there."

"Then why don't you now?"

"At this point, you're not even worth getting angry over. So stop giving me that pitiful look. I really prefer you shouting at me instead. At least I'm used to it." You mumble the last part, but Levi catches it easily.

"That's it then, you leave me no choice." You look at Levi curiously. "You infuriate me, brat, you really do. You're so careless and oblivious all the time, you forget to look after yourself. And I'm not ready to watch you throw away your life so irrationally from the sidelines."

"So what are you trying to tell me, Levi?"

"Tch, you're just gonna make me say it, aren't you?" He takes a deep breath. "I'm not good at this, and I hate to admit it, to you of all people. It makes me mad to see you risk your life because I care about you.. and I can't lose you. I've dealt with too much death. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive, even if it means dying.." Levi trails off, then scoffs and crosses his arms like a petty little child. "I said it, all right? I like you-- A lot, you stupid brat!"

You searched Levi's eyes for any trace of dishonesty. You hoped he was lying, like he had some sort of script prepared before he came to see you. But you found no lies in his eyes.

You felt your heart break. All this time when you thought Levi just really hated you, he was looking out for you.

"I.. Why didn't you just tell me?" Your voice fell apart as you spoke. "I tried so hard to make you like me back.. And it hurt because I thought you just hated my guts. I had no idea."

"I know, I was being stupid too- It shouldn't have come to this," Levi admitted. "I.. I'll let you rest now."

Levi stood up to leave, but you were quick to pull him back onto the bed with you. Without letting him react, you grabbed his face and interlocked your lips with his. All the tension in his body disappeared and he melted into the kiss, throwing his arms around you tightly like he'd lose you if he ever let go. It wasn't a soft, romantic, movie perfect kiss. It was desperate, tongue and teeth, hands wandering, disheveling the other's hair. You released all of your built up anger and resent, letting it fuel you while you aggresively fought your tongue with his, a faint taste a hint of alcohol now on your own mouth. Occasionally you'd both break the kiss for short intakes of breath and small whispers like 'don't scare me like that again' and 'I've needed this for a while now'. You couldn't help but moan, earning a grin from Levi as he continued to hungrily devour your lips. Just as things escalated, you remembered you were still in the infirmary, and anyone could walk in any minute now. You slowly pulled away, your chest heaving as you panted for breath.

Levi couldn't help but twist his lips up into a little smirk. That was new.

"Well at least you're not a bad first kisser," he spoke nonchalantly, still gasping for air. You playfully punched him in the chest.

"Quite the romantic, aren't you?" You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop yourself from smiling like an idiot. "You're not bad either, old man."

Blush spread across his cheeks.

He took your hand in his, bringing it to his swollen and raw lips and placed a small kiss on your knuckles.

"Promise me you won't leave me again?"

"Promise," you sighed blissfully. "And I guess I'll have to tell Commander Erwin about my change of plans."

"Actually," a deep voice spoke. At the door, there stood none other than Commander Erwin. "I think I already know."

[ghoultramp]

nii-chan knows best [todoroki x reader]

▷       bnha

↳ pairing: shouto todoroki x f!reader

↳ content: aged up character(s), niichan!shouto x imouto!reader, quirkless!reader, virgin!reader, manipulative relationship, corruption, incest, (mention of) spanking, dubcon, teasing, object humping, (mention of) leg humping, cunnilingus, fingering, (a bit of) aftercare

↳ words: 3k

⇢ summary: living with your big brother was exhausting, every day focused on making sure you always knew your place. He was so serious and commanding all the time, scolding you for the slightest misstep. but nii-chan always knows best.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: the things that manifest at midnight, right?

You had lain there for what seemed like hours as you waited for the house to be still; a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding escaped your lips when you heard his door close, the sound still too loud for your liking. But a long, hard day called for some relief and you’d waited long enough.

Living with your big brother was exhausting, every day focused on making sure you always knew your place. He was so serious and commanding all the time, scolding you for the slightest misstep.

‘Nii-chan is only doing what’s best for you,’ he would reassure you in his soft, deep voice.

Every. Single. Time.

You thought about the particular time you wore your skirt too short and had been forced across his knee to receive your punishment; the soft skin of your rear marred with his big red handprints, adding just one more while he spoke those comforting words. Or maybe it had been when you foolishly misspoke in front of his friends; behind closed doors he had grabbed you by the hair with his left hand, pushing your face against the wall as his ice-tipped right hand flittered across your body, sending tendrils of controlled freezing wherever he pleased as he spoke those words again.

Or maybe--

Your entire body tensed, hips arching ever so slightly, and your breath shuddered thinking about how Shouto would punish you. You felt your cheeks flush, the warmth pricking at your skin as you told yourself over and over that you shouldn’t feel this way, not about him, not about your Nii-chan.

A short, broken whimper slipped through your lips, the once gentle heat that had been but a tantalizing ripple in your core now undulated hotly with an embarrassing lust and need. Your itching fingers searched at the sheet beneath you, your toes curled as you gripped at it in exasperation.

You groaned, pushing your head back against your pillow, hair splayed messily as you shook it back and forth.

It’s not right… is it?

You strained against the moan that threatened to escape as it pushed against your throat, your imagination invoking the feeling of Shouto’s hands raking their way down your body, teasing you with his quirk as he always would. A prickling of heat there, a shock of cold here.

There was no escaping it; your soft, contemptible moan broke free of your lips despite your best efforts. You inhaled sharply through trembling lips as your right hand wandered across the silk of your nightgown, your stomach fluttered beneath the touch of the dainty material when your fingers brushed against it.

Without a second thought, you balled the nightgown in your hands and ruched it up high around your midriff. You altered your position slightly in the process, widening up your pelvis as your right hand resumed its place at your hip. You fingered gently at the filly seam of your panties, back and forth along the sensitive skin above your groin.

Letting your eyes wander over to the left, they fell upon a plushie on your bedside table, the over-the-top flames and garish orange and blue stood out among everything else. Your father’s stern eyes glared right at you.

Of all things, it had to be Endeavor...

You scoffed, furrowing your brow, turning your eyes to look up at the canopy above your head. Your hand still fiddled away at your panties, enjoying the pleasurable feeling it sent further down.

You brought your free hand to your chest and for a moment, merely cupped your breast, feeling the weight rest against your palm. Nibbling at your bottom lip, you moved your other hand down, tentatively rubbing at your slightly parted lips beneath more silk. You pressed down gently on your already swollen clit, shuddering and whimpering when an overpowering wave of pleasure washed over you.

Your mind wandered and so did your hand; you reached for the plushie with your left and passed it over to your right.

“Sorry, Daddy,” you whispered, pulling it beneath the blanket.

Any nervousness you felt abated when you pressed the stuffed toy against your mound, releasing a soft moan as you pushed it down until you felt a pleasant pressure against your throbbing clit.

You closed your eyes, your hips gently moving to grind against the toy, and thought of sitting on your Nii-chan’s lap. 

You had been sitting at the table with him and his friends, and of course, he had encouraged you to sit on him instead of standing. You had straddled him, facing the table, with one of his muscular thighs held between yours.

You moaned, lost in the thought, as you held down harder on the plushie as you humped against it.

You recalled just how you’d sat on him, feeling the muscles beneath you tense, your panties and his slack trousers the only barrier between you. You’d felt his hands on your hips, just below the eyesight of his friends, begin to move you slowly and deliberately. Surely they had seen how bright you’d turned as you humped against your Nii-chan’s leg, and you were sure he could feel your wetness on his leg as--

You moved with more vigor as you allowed your memory to consume you; you brought your left hand back to your breast, biting your bottom lip again as you cupped it in your hand. Your thumb gently brushed against your erect nipple through the nightgown and the soft silk against your sensitive skin made you squirm.

You brought your legs up, a low groan broke from your throat, your position now granting you much more movement of your hips.

“Daddy,” you whined, your eyes shot open with horrific realization.

Adding to your already awkward situation, you watched in fear as the door to your bedroom opened.

“Daddy, huh?” a familiar voice chastised.

He was so smug as he sauntered in through the half-open door, his eyes peering at you through his half-red, half-white hair. You knew you had been caught red-handed, you also knew he would be sure to enjoy it.

“I- It’s not,” you stammered, stalling as you attempted to figure a way out of this predicament.

“It’s not what, little sister?” he implored as he closed the door behind him. 

It barely made a sound.

You only watched as his tall, striking figure approached your bedside; his broad, muscular chest was bare, your eyes wandered down to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. Not only did you feel flush at the sight of the bulge below the band, but you felt the quickening throb of your clit beneath the plushie between your thighs. You clenched tightly.

How much worse can this get?

“Well?” he pressed on, stern and severe as he folded his thick arms across his chest.

You internally reprimanded yourself for admiring the way his pectoral muscles squeezed beneath the bulk of his arms, the way the minimal lighting accentuated the definition of his biceps and his tight abdomen.

Shouto examined your silhouette beneath your blanket, there was no mistaking the outline of your knees in the air, legs spread.

“Nii-chan asked you a question, little sister,” he prompted, bending over to rest his palms on the edge of your bed. He turned his head to look at you; he had never needed to give you a verbal telling off, his cold eyes said everything he needed to. “Don’t be so rude.”

“I wasn’t--” 

You didn’t have the time to react to Shouto gripping the blanket between his hands, pulling it away from you, unveiling your shameful act. Your nose prickled, tears welling behind your eyes as you let your hold on the plushie go, your hand falling to your side, but you dare not lower your legs; you brought the hand at your breast down to rest above your abdomen. You felt so exposed as you fiddled nervously at the hem you’d bunched up. 

Silly girl.

You felt the pressure under his heavy gaze as he scanned you up and down, but you noticed his not-so-hidden bulge twitch beneath his trousers when he looked below your hips. He let the blanket drop to the floor and reached out. 

Shouto lifted the Endeavor plushie from between your legs, revealing your sodden garment; the silk had turned darker from your wetness.

You watched as he turned the plushie over in his hands, still looming over you.

“Tell me,” he began, carelessly throwing it over his shoulder, “why do you need Daddy when your Nii-chan is right here?”

He placed his right hand on your thigh closest to him.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, little sister,” he continued, squeezing it tight. 

You let out a meek cry as the cold he generated slowly froze your skin. He tutted at you, shaking his head as he climbed onto the bed and rested between your legs, low on his knees. Not once did he remove his bitingly cold hand, he only turned it as he clambered over you. 

You were only slightly relieved when he stopped using his quirk, you knew you would be feeling the discomfort for a day or two. You only hoped that you hadn’t angered Nii-chan enough that he refused to take care of you afterward. The thought alone was enough to break your heart.

You gasped, feeling a pleasantly familiar tingle as he stroked at you with his left hand, running his finger up and down the concealed slit beneath your soaked panties. Your Nii-chan seemed to like that, the smirk that formed on his lip was devilish.

You flinched under the pressure of his finger against your clit, the sensitive, swollen nub pulsing against the silk. With half-lidded eyes, you watched as both hands crept their way to your waistband.

You nibbled at your lip, nervously.

“Don’t play delicate, my dear, sweet little sister,” he cooed, words saccharine sweet as he snapped at the elastic. 

“I’m not, Nii-chan,” you shot at him, your voice may have been trembling but that attitude was certainly present in your tone.

He wouldn’t approve of that.

You watched, mouth agape, as he tucked his fingers of both hands beneath your waistband, he was still smirking as he roughly tugged at them, yanking them down your legs. You understood it would have been futile to push back against him; your Nii-chan had the strength and his unique quirk, you would always just be his pathetic, quirkless little sister.

Hanging your head in shame, you allowed him to move your legs as he removed your underwear; they hung as lifeless as a doll’s.

“Oh, but you are,” he corrected, gently setting your legs back to their upright position. “And Nii-chan is never wrong, is he?”

His hands felt like gentle kisses against your thighs as he leaned into you, his head nestled comfortably between your trembling thighs. You shook your head with a squeak, your voice pushed uncomfortable against your throat.

“Nii-chan only does what’s best for you, sweet sister,” you felt the vibrations of his low tones against your legs when he spoke. 

His fingers created delicate trails across your sensitive skin; across your hips, your pelvis, before resting painfully close to where you compulsively needed him. 

“Nii-chan is the only one who knows what’s best for you,” his words were slightly muffled as he continued, his lips so impossibly close to your tantalizingly sweet and prohibited, virginal cunt.

A loose moan escaped your lips, the feeling of his warm breath against your naked arousal more intense than you could have imagined. You felt him move to place his forefingers on either side of your clit, widening them to spread your lips. 

“Isn’t that right, little sister?” he finally continued, you felt rather than heard him.

“Nii-chan, you can’t,” you whimpered, quivering from either anticipation or unease, you couldn’t quite tell.

His eyes met yours, gazing up at you from between your legs, your poor cheeks prickling from the constant flush.

“‘Can’t,’ what?” he teased, his eyes never broke contact as he intruded your walls with his fingers without warning. “This?”

He watched you, obviously pleased as you squirmed and cried beneath him as your body experienced a newer sensation; it was different, far more different than when you had tentatively explored yourself. Two of your own slender fingers barely compared to one of his.

But now your Nii-chan had opened you up nicely with two of his thick fingers while he teased you, blowing a gentle breath against your clit. You whined, balling the sheet beneath you in one hand and your nightgown in the other.

“Nii-chan… don’t,” you cried half-heartedly, feeling his lips encapsulate your thrumming clit.

You felt the vibration of his mocking laugh right up against you, crying out when his tongue tickled at your bundle of nerves.

He pushed his left hand under your leg, enticed by the way you squirmed beneath him when he squeezed your asscheek. He enjoyed the way your flesh felt in his palm, softly kneading it with his hand. 

The uncontrollable, fluttering little moans you rewarded him with when he pushed his way deeper into your untouched walls, suckling at your delicate nub, only encouraged his debaucherous act.

You keened as he hooked his fingers further inside your cunt, massaging that special spot that made you convulse beneath him. When your vision started to pock with white spots, you clenched your eyes shut, biting your lips against your sinful noises.

Your Nii-chan took this as an incentive to generously lap at your clit. You cried and held your fists tighter, your knuckles white as he slurped loudly at your juices, abusing your sopping wet hole with his fingers. 

Shouto’s hand squeezed your asscheek again, you felt the prickling heat as he used his quirk. The pang of panic you felt soon dissipated when, with one final thrust of his thick fingers finding your delicious sweet spot, he began to rub vigorously.

A feeble whimper broke through your moans when he released your engorged clit from his mouth, he held his steady momentum against your g-spot while you came undone.

“Nii-chan knows best for his little sister, doesn’t he?” he asked, his calmness was eerie.

You only responded with your titillating noises, and while he enjoyed them, it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

“Answer me, sweet sister,” he growled as he halted his fingers.

The gyration of your hips only made him chuckle.

“So needy and innocent, aren’t you,” he mused, pressing his thumb against your clit. “Now,” he continued, “Nii-chan kno--”

“Yes,” you cried, now almost tearing at the fabric in your hands, “Nii-chan knows best!”

Shouto watched as your pert breasts heaved up and down with your erratic breathing while he rewarded you by moving his fingers roughly against your sweet spot. He smirked, hearing a deliciously guttural moan break free from you as your walls tightened and hips shuddered. He felt your body spasm as you came, your slick pooling on his palm.

He didn’t seem satisfied.

You sobbed, feeling a foreign pressure coil within you as he roughly fucked you with his fingers. You looked at your Nii-chan with concern. 

“Nii-chan it--” you croaked, breathing hard and fast, lost in a tumult of confusion and pleasure.

“Relax my sweet, little sister.” He sounded so soothing while he abused your pretty little cunt, bringing you to heights you didn’t think possible. 

You heard him groan as his lips once again came in contact with your clit, it twitched beneath his tongue as he gently circled it; a harsh contrast to his thick, intruding fingers. Your body tensed completely, you heard Shouto groan into you as you finally allowed yourself to let go, your loud whines and moans filled the air.

You felt his fingers struggle against your tight walls, whimpering and twisting beneath him as the coil wound tighter and tighter until--

“Nii-chan!” you sobbed, feeling a pressure release from between your legs and the tightened coil unravel; your head felt fluffy.

Shouto gently removed his thick fingers, moaning long and loud as he pressed his tongue flat against your slit. His strong hands rested on either side of your hips, you flinched, anticipating the quirk use that never came; he stroked your skin with care.

Your Nii-chan tenderly lapped at your tender cunt, moaning as he drank in your juices, honey on his tongue. He enjoyed the noises you made when he pushed his tongue further inside you but thought against pushing you further tonight.

“You’re so precious,” he told you, his eyes dark and intense.

You watched as he pushed himself off the bed, gently laying your legs down flat. He moved your hand from your chest and pulled your nightgown down, sweetly patting it around your thighs. 

You were curious as you watched him fumble with your dresser, averting your eyes when he poked through your underwear drawer. Shouto returned to the side of the bed, presenting you with a clean set of panties; you felt a whimper try to escape as he considerately dressed you.

He turned around to pick up your blanket, he smiled down at you softly as he wafted it in the air, letting if fall daintily over you. You noticed he ignored the plushie of your father, still left alone on the floor.

“Sweet dreams, little sister,” he whispered, he gently kissed your forehead as he tucked you under your blanket.

Before leaving your room he made a detour to the end of the bed, you were confused when he bent down. 

How embarrassing!

You spotted your wet panties balled up in his hand. He waltzed over to the bedroom door, seemingly proud of himself, and opened it ajar.

“Remember,” he said before leaving you in your haze, “Nii-chan always knows best.”

[oioinanami]

glimpses. (bokuto koutarou x f. reader)

word count: 2.9k

synopsis: small glimpses into your life with bokuto.

contains: fluff, everything from strangers to lovers to established relationship to married life to parents + pregnancy au

i.

Bokuto doesn’t notice you at first. You’re just one face among many in the crowd of people watching the volleyball game. But once the match is over and he sees you running towards the other team, apparently being friends with one of their setters, your hair flying behind you, eyes bright and smile even brighter, he can’t help the way his heart stumbles and his eyes widen. To him, you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, your face open and inviting, smile warm and lively. For him, it’s love at first sight - so not even Akaashi can hold him back when Bokuto asks the other team to join them for their celebratory dinner. It was just a friendly match after all, nothing more - no need for the others to be upset over having lost. To everyone’s surprise, the other team agrees, and Bokuto gets to spend the evening in your presence, somehow managing to sit beside you during dinner. You click immediately, his open and fun persona matching your own energy, even though you’re more reserved, a bit softer. That night, Bokuto makes you laugh uncontrollably for the first time, and he swears his heartbeat just flatlines. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life. By the end of the evening, he has your number saved in his phone, knowing that this night has been the beginning of something wonderful.

ii.

For your first date, you and Bokuto decide to go play laser tag. You’re on the same team, but being overexcited, Bokuto accidentally shoots you not even five minutes into the game. He apologizes over and over again, clearly mortified, but you just burst out laughing and stand on your tiptoes to brush a soft kiss against his cheek, making his heart burst and his face split into a huge smile. After that incident, he takes over the role as your personal bodyguard, dramatically sacrificing himself three times just so you don’t get shot. Thanks to his efforts, you get one of the highest rankings once the game ends, and Bokuto proudly kisses the crown of your head when he sees you placed second, yelling a “That’s my girl!” and making you blush madly.

You decide to buy some ice cream afterwards, Bokuto insisting you get all your favorite flavors because “you earned it” - his words, not yours. You shyly take his hand once you leave the store again, holding your ridiculously large ice cream cone in your other one. He gives you a soft smile, and immediately interlaces his fingers with yours before tugging you with him towards a park nearby. You lazily stroll around, quietly observing the ducks floating on the pond and dogs running around as well as the other people walking past you. Once you’ve both finished your ice cream, you decide to sit down on a bench and enjoy the last rays of sunshine, Bokuto excitedly telling you about his last volleyball match. “And you should have seen my last spike, Y/N, it was so good - Akaashi orchestrated it perfectly and-” You can’t help the soft smile spreading over your entire face, amazed at his seemingly never-ending enthusiasm and just overall cuteness. Bokuto stops mid-sentence, eyebrows lifting in slight surprise when he sees your expression.

“What-”, he asks, but then you have already leaned towards him, covering his mouth with yours. He immediately wraps both arms around you to pull you even closer to his warm body, his lips practically melting against yours. A few seconds later, his tongue pokes at your bottom lip to demand entrance, sliding into your mouth once you grant it. You only break apart when your heads begin to spin from the lack of oxygen, Bokuto pressing his forehead against yours, eyes still closed. “Please be my girlfriend, Y/N.”, he finally mumbles before opening his eyes again; they look like liquid gold in the light of the slowly setting sun, and your heart skips a beat. He’s truly just so beautiful, looking at him almost hurts. You smile and just nod once, making him exhale in obvious relief. Bokuto quickly captures your lips in yet another kiss, and you melt further into his embrace.

iii.

“Where do you want me to put this, babe?”, Bokuto huffs out, holding a giant cardboard box in his arms, the veins on his hands even more prominent than usual. You lift one eyebrow, about to reply, but Akaashi beats you to it: “Y/N literally wrote ‘kitchen’ on the box, Bokuto.” With that, he turns to you, “Honestly, sometimes I wonder how you deal with him - he can be such an airhead.” You grin and lean against the doorframe, continuing to watch Bokuto who’s just placing the last of your many, many boxes onto the kitchen counter before wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “Yeah, but he makes up for it by being hot.”, you reply and shoot your boyfriend a playful wink. Bokuto just rolls his eyes at you and begins to pout while Akaashi makes a gagging sound. Kuroo, who’s lazing on your brand new couch, chuckles. “Leave the two lovebirds alone, Akaashi. I think it’s cute they’re still so in love.”, he says and yawns, eyes half-lidded and expression relaxed.

“Why are you even here? You didn’t even lift one finger.”, Akaashi complains and kicks Kuroo’s feet from the small coffee table. “Someone has to provide the good looks.”, the black haired man answers smoothly before giving Akaashi a feline smile. “I’m already taking care of that.”, you reply, and stick out your tongue at Kuroo when he bursts out laughing. “How about we order some food now?”, Bokuto asks before draping one arm over your shoulder, brushing his lips against your temple, “Anyone hungry?” “Ew, ’Kou, you’re sweaty.”, you immediately squeal and try to free yourself from your boyfriend’s embrace, but he just grins and hugs you even tighter. “Yes, but I’m your sweaty.”, he answers smugly, and you scrunch up your nose, letting him kiss the tip of it. “And we can always take a shower together later.”, he mumbles before giving you a quick kiss, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Other people can hear you, you know.”, Akaashi groans, and you blush, shooting Bokuto a playful dark glare. He just winks at you, and your stomach jolts, heart skipping a beat - even after years of dating, your boyfriend still has this effect on you. “I’m very hungry after slaving away all day.”, Kuroo answers, ignoring your snort, and stands up, “And I vote for pizza.” Akaashi grumbles something about ‘wanting sushi instead’ while Bokuto scrolls through the delivery app on his phone. You just smile and lean your head against his broad shoulders, still not quite believing that this is the apartment you and him get to call your home from now on. Your boyfriend gives you a small smile, and gently tucks some of your hair behind your ear before murmuring a soft “Welcome home, babe” under his breath, his golden eyes darting from yours to your hand resting on his broad chest just above his heart and back again.

He knows that someday soon, your finger will have a ring on it.

iv.

Bokuto can’t help but cry when he sees you walking down the aisle and towards him, dressed in all white, a happy and soft smile on your face, hands nervously clutching a small bouquet of different colored roses. Somehow, he manages to say his vows even though he’s pretty much sobbing by now, and you can’t help but giggle at your fiancé - no, husband now -, gently clutching his damp cheeks between your hands when you are finally allowed to kiss and seal the vow that will keep you bonded forever. “Be glad I’m the one wearing mascara or else you’d look like a panda right now.”, you mumble against his lips when you break apart again, your friends and families cheering loudly, and your husband breaks into a bright grin. “I’d be the cutest panda ever though.”, he replies smugly, and you laugh, before letting him literally sweep you off your feet and carry you towards the reception hall, the cheers around you still not dying down and making you both laugh in glee.

You’re ready to burst with happiness when Bokuto’s beautiful golden eyes lock with yours, his smile just genuinely proud and happy. “I love you so much, my lovely and wonderful wife. Thank you for making me the happiest man by marrying me today.”, he whispers against your lips before kissing you deeply. You smile into the kiss, and tangle your fingers in his dark hair, its tips that beautiful silvery color you adore so much. “I love you too, my handsome and amazing husband.”, you reply in a hushed voice once you break apart, and Bokuto smiles, eyes beginning to water again.

“LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”, Kuroo yells loudly when he enters the hall behind you, and claps Bokuto on his back before sweeping you up into a warm embrace, “I’m so happy for you guys! Who would have thought that you’d be the first one to tie the knot, ‘Kou? Out of all of us, I was totally betting on Akaashi to marry first.” Akaashi just playfully punches Kuroo’s arm before hugging both you and Bokuto, congratulating you quietly. His eyes are slightly red, but you decide to let it slide for now and to just tease him about it later. Your husband just laughs and ruffles his best friend’s hair before happily accepting the good wishes and hugs from the rest of your friends and families.

During your first dance, everyone can clearly see just how happy you two are, your eyes never leaving the other’s face, smiles soft and content; you‘re both just radiating pure bliss.

“Wanna bet who’ll end up the drunkest tonight? I’m saying it’ll be Hinata.”, you murmur shortly before the song ends, and Bokuto huffs out a laugh, “Nah, it’ll be Kageyama, for sure.” You grin, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Loser has to write all the thank you cards?“ “Bet.”, your husband just answers, and nuzzles your nose, his heart almost bursting with happiness.

v.

“Shhh, Daaaaddy, wake up!”

Bokuto groans and tiredly rubs his face, yelping when he sees the face of his four year old hover directly above him, wide eyes glinting in the dimly lit room. “What?”, he murmurs, mind still groggy, and his son bounces on his chest, making Bokuto groan again. “Little owl, you should be asleep! It’s still very early.”, he mumbles as quietly as possible, voice heavy with sleep. His eyes slide to your still sleeping figure beside him before hugging his son close, nuzzling his nose. “Just because you were named after the sunlight doesn’t mean you have to be awake as soon as it creeps over the horizon.” Haru gives him a mischievous yet sweet grin, looking very much like you in that second even though he has his father’s dark hair and golden eyes, before clutching Bokuto’s face between his chubby hands. “I’m hungry!”, he then whines, bottom lip wobbling dangerously, and Bokuto quickly sweeps the boy up into his arms, tiptoeing out of the dark bedroom.

“Then let’s go make some breakfast without waking mommy, okay?”, he murmurs in a hushed voice after having closed the bedroom door behind him, and Haru nuzzles closer to his father’s chest, seeking more warmth. “Okay.”, his son answers, voice sleepy all of the sudden. Bokuto just chuckles, quickly grabbing a blanket from Haru’s room and wrapping it around his son’s tiny body. After entering the kitchen, he gently places Haru on a chair before beginning to shuffle through the kitchen cabinets. “Waffles sound good?”, Bokuto asks after having found all the necessary ingredients, looking over his shoulder and at his son who just nods excitedly, suddenly much more awake after having heard the word ‘waffles’.

You find yourself alone in bed, fingers searching for your husband’s warm body that should rest beside you. Surprised to find his side of the bed empty, you open your eyes and blink a few times, the sleep tugging at your lashes making them unbelievably heavy. You sigh, and carefully roll over to get up, your steadily growing belly making it harder by the day. You shiver when your bare feet touch the cold floor, and quickly grab one of Bokuto’s hoodies, carelessly discarded on top of the rocking chair in the corner of the room. You inhale deeply while slipping it over your head, Bokuto’s scent still clinging to the fabric and filling your nose. He always smells like home, and you can’t help but smile before opening the door, being greeted by your husband’s low voice and your son’s much higher one. Your heart swells while you listen to their conversation for a few seconds; Haru is apparently in the middle of explaining why waffles are superior to pancakes, Bokuto just making soft “Oohs” and “Ahhs” in between while shuffling around the kitchen. You creep closer, and lean against the doorframe, taking in the scene in front of you. Haru is sitting at the table, a glass of juice in front of him while he bounces his favorite plushie, an owl and a gift from Akaashi, on his lap, still babbling about the superiority of waffles. Your husband is standing in front of the stove, his hair sticking up in different directions, only clad in soft pyjama pants, the muscles on his broad back rippling while he mixes the batter. You sigh softly, and gently cup the swell of your belly while smiling at your little family, soon to be four.

As soon as he hears you behind him, your son’s head snaps around and he squeals a happy “Mommy!” before jumping down from his chair and running to you for a hug. You laugh and bend down to ruffle his soft hair, silky like his father’s. “Good morning, my darling. Did you wake your daddy again?”, you ask, voice gentle but slightly reprimanding. Haru looks up, guilt written all over his face, his bottom lip protruding a bit. He truly just looks like an exact copy of his father, and you can’t help but smile even wider. “No, he was already awake.”, your son tries to lie, but the second you lift one eyebrow, he scrambles to add “After I bounced on his chest.” You grin. “That’s what I thought.” You crouch down low and give Haru a semi stern look. “You know that your daddy needs his sleep, right? He goes to bed much later than you, so he needs to sleep longer.” Haru nods, golden eyes filled with a silent apology, and you quickly clutch his small face between your hands to pepper kisses all over his cheeks, forehead and nose, making him giggle and squirm in your embrace. Once you’re done, you try to stand up again, groaning while doing so. Lately, your back has begun to hurt slightly, all thanks to your growing belly. Bokuto is quick to help you up, his large, warm hands cupping your elbows while he gives you a silent look of disapproval, worry dancing in his golden eyes. “You need to be more careful, babe.”, he murmurs, but you just give him a dismissive wave of your hand. “This is the second child I’m bearing, ace, so I think I know what I’m doing.”, you reply, and your husband can’t help but smile a bit bashfully at your nickname for him - he just loves when you call him your ace. “I guess that’s true. You’re truly my Wonder Woman.”, he says proudly before leaning down for his good morning kiss. You quickly melt your lips against his, and he sighs happily, wrapping both arms around you. “Eww.”, your son screams before making a gagging sound, and you pull back from your husband to press one hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter.

“I feel like we shouldn’t allow Akaashi to babysit him anymore.”, you fake-whisper to your husband, “He’s becoming too much like him.” Bokuto just nods before giving his son a playful look of displeasure. “Noooo, I LOVE UNCLE SHI THE MOSTEST!”, Haru immediately whines, hitting his tiny fists against his father’s thick thigh, “Please, daddy! I want uncle Shi!” Bokuto just huffs out a laugh and lifts Haru up into his arms, tickling his sides. “Of course, you know we love Uncle Shi the mostest too. Don’t tell Uncle Kuroo though.”, he whispers and kisses Haru’s cheeks, loud mwah noise included. That seems to calm your son immediately, and he finally relaxes into his father’s embrace, his tiny head now resting on Bokuto’s broad shoulders. You lean against your husband as well, and nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, sighing contently. “But I love Uncle Kuroo too. He says I’m going to be the best volleyball player one day, just like daddy is!”, Haru mumbles sleepily, and you smile softly, brushing his dark hair out of his sweet face. “Of course, you can be anything you want, my darling boy.”, you reply softly, and lift your head to smile at your husband. Bokuto returns it quietly before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. “I love you both so much.”, he murmurs when you break apart again, and you nuzzle his nose. “Me too.”, you answer before looking back at your son who has fallen asleep again, “Let’s go back to bed. We can have waffles later.” Bokuto just nods, and clutches his tiny boy a bit tighter in his arms before intertwining his fingers with yours, pulling you back towards the bedroom for some family cuddles.

© oioinanami 2021 | masterlist

[cherryyharryy]

i have an idea for a request (it’s totally ok if you don’t want to do it) like an angst-> fluff where one of harry’s songs accidentally gets leaked bc of y/n like she has something on a flash drive and the song is on another and they get mixed up and obviously he’s really mad at y/n and they have a fight he’s super snappy with her but something happens to her like she gets into a really big accidental or something and he forgives her bc he cares about her more tha the leaked song

WC: 2.7k

***

Damage control wasn’t even an option. 

Y/n sat there, staring at Harry’s laptop, numb to everything except the blaring desire to go back in time just two minutes. Two minutes is all she would need to undo possibly the biggest screwup of her life.

And the worst part is that this mistake ultimately doesn’t affect her. At least not in comparison to how it will affect Harry. And his band. And his team. Basically everyone involved with his career. 

Her mind is equally begging for her to shut down and come up with a plan—an excuse—something, Is there anyway this wasn’t my fault?  

She checks the time, her heart sinking to her stomach when she realizes Harry and his team will be back any minute. Any minute and she’s done for.

They’ve only been together for five months, officially. She’s still new to most everyone. She’s that girl Harry’s dating.

“I told you he played in that movie.” Jeff’s voice echoes outside the studio. Y/n closes the laptop and prays for strength. 

“I have him confused with someone else.” Harry bustles through the door, a small crowd of people filing in behind him, back to the spots they left an hour ago. “Hey darling,” he greets, “finish your paper?”

Y/n’s frozen, morbidly wishing he had found out about his song leaking on his own so she wouldn’t have to tell him. “Uh, almost.”

He kisses the top of her head and hands her a cup of frozen yogurt. “Your favorite.” 

“Thanks.” She sets it on the table she’s sat at while Harry pulls up a chair beside her. “Aren’t you guys still working?”

He waves in the direction of his band, “Mitch’s gotta fix his guitar.” He snickers, and slides his laptop out from under y/n’s hands. “Had a bit of an accident in the car.” 

Y/n’s head tingles with what must be nerve damage, her place in this world, her place in this room, decreasing in value as Harry opens his computer.

“It’s gonna melt.” He nods to her yogurt.

“I’m not hungry.”

He furrows his brow. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She looks around the room, everyone busy getting back to work, light chatter passing among them. “Uh, actually, I uh, I have to tell you something.” Y/n tries to swallow the lump in her throat with no luck.

“Okay…” He shuts the laptop and gives her his full attention.

“Okay, um—”

“What the fuck!?” The room freezes as everyone turns toward Jeff. “Harry someone’s got a hold of your song!” 

Harry scrambles to his manager, complete shock on his face as they both stare down at Jeff’s phone. “Fuck.” They start to play a video, the sound of a girl screaming, with Harry’s unconsented voice playing in the background, fills the room. “How the hell did this happen?” He’s gritting through his teeth, neck red, veins bulging in his hands as he rips the phone out of Jeff’s hand. “HOW? Someone answer me!”

Y/N considers keeping quiet. Playing innocent. What good will it do to confess anyway? It’s not like it’ll undo what she’s done.

Sarah chimes in from across the room, “It looks like it happened half an hour ago. That’s when this video I’m looking at was posted.”

Y/n’s staring down at her lap, holding her head up with her fingers pressed into her temples when Harry slings himself back into the chair next to her.

“All that work, all that fucking work,” he nearly growls, “for some cunt to spread my unfinished song around for a buck.”

Y/n peers up to the room, a completely different picture compared to five minutes ago. Now there’s talk of lawyers and pressing charges while everyone shuffles around. Jeff slams the door as he steps out with his phone to his ear, and y/n knows she can’t claim denial, it’ll only make things worse.

“Uh, Harry?”

“What is it?” He doesn’t look at her, eyes glaring at his phone while another video plays of a group of people reacting to his song. “Glad they fucking like it.”

“Harry?”

“What, y/n?”

She shrinks under his gaze, mouth dry as she forces her confession out. “I uh, this is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll do anything—I know I can’t fix it—but...”

Harry’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing in on her as a morbid silence forms a little bubble around them. “Go on,” he whispers with grit, “finish what you were gonna say.”

She stutters, desperately trying to figure him out. “I’m just sorry. It was an accident.”

“An accident? How did you even manage to do this?”

“I—”

“Do you have any idea what this accident means, y/n?”

She reluctantly shakes her head no.

“How the fuck did you do this?”

“I—I don’t know...I was taking a break from my paper, and, I don’t know Harry.” She’s in tears now, warm and salty as they spill down her cheeks. Her mouth wobbles around another apology, but no sounds make it out.

“Fix it.”

“What?”

He stands up, yanking his laptop off the table, pausing to glare at her one last time. “I said, to fix it.” With that he storms across the room, slinging the door open just as Jeff reenters.

“Harry, your attorney—”

“Forget it.” He turns around and points his phone towards y/n silently sobbing in the corner. “She’s gonna handle it.” He takes one step out into the hall and stops, spinning on his heels to face the studio. “Don’t speak to me until you do.”

Mitch’s guitar that was fixed and propped against the wall, crashes to the floor when Harry slams the door. 

Chatter passes around the room one more time, only now everyone seems to be in agreeance—that girl never should have been allowed in the studio, and maybe, Harry should break up with her.

***

Early morning rain fell outside Harry’s apartment. It was still dark, street lamps burning through the fog in the city below. His home fills with coffee as he pours his fifth cup; the prior four never offering more than a few sips before he had abandoned them somewhere, the counter, mantle, bookshelf, because he can’t talk without his hands.

Y/n sits on his couch. It’s velvet and pink and too big for one person. She hated it the first time he invited her over. If he breaks up with her, she’s going to tell him how ugly it is.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” She’s exhausted. She hadn’t hesitated to drive over when he finally responded to one of her hundreds of texts in the week since the mishap. But now she regrets it. They’ve been going in circles with the same argument for the past four hours. She’s convinced he invited her over just to be mean. She sighs, rubbing her temples. “I said I was sorry. You know that I’m sorry. And you know that I never, ever in a million years, would have done something like this on purpose.”

“I’m allowed to be angry with you. I have every right to be.”

“Do you, though?” She straightens up on his ugly couch and looks at him leaning against the doorframe that leads into the kitchen. “Aren’t you a little tired of hating me? God Harry, everyone else in the whole world has moved on except you.”

“It’s not everyone else’s song, is it? It’s not everyone else’s months and months of hard work. It’s not everyone else’s unfinished art? Nobody else is having to deal with a girlfriend that is so careless, so thoughtless, that she actually managed to leak my song!”

“Stop raising your voice at me!”

“You had no business snooping around my computer anyway! I told you you could work on your fucking paper, not to go prying around my personal shit!”

“You know what,” she scoffs, shooting up off the couch, “this argument is so pointless. You didn’t want me here so we could talk. You just wanted to torture me because you’re mad that people don’t love your stupid song.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

She brushes his shoulder as she passes by him, and a drip of his coffee spills onto his hand. He curses, and follows her into the kitchen where he lays his final cup down on the island.

“You’re being a baby because people aren’t fawning over you like they usually do.” She shrugs and slings her bag over her shoulder. “It’s not your best song, Harry.”

The veins in his neck strain against his flaming skin. His cheeks are sucked in, and if he bites down on the skin any harder he’ll puncture his face. “Get the fuck out.”

“I was already leaving, dumb ass.” She strides by him once more, practically feeling the heat steaming off his body. When she gets to the front door, she pauses with her hand on the knob. “Your couch is hideous, by the way. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to buy shitty looking stuff.”

When she slams the door behind her, the apartment shakes, and cold coffee spills from each cup.

***

It’s nearing five a.m. when y/n backs out of the complex. Her wipers race across the windshield, but do nothing against the downpour wreaking havoc in the city. She does her best to stay on what she assumes is her side of the road, swerving to the right each time headlights blind her.

“Shit.” Nothing is open, and she can’t even see where it would be safe to pull over to let the rain pass. But her home isn’t that far, and traffic isn’t too bad. 

She comes to a stop at a red light, only to realize she missed a left turn she should’ve made a minute ago. “Damn it. Fucking hell.”

As soon as the light turns green, she spins the wheel to make a U-turn, and if it hadn’t been for the rain, and her own clouded mind, and Harry’s voice echoing in her ears, she might have seen the truck who didn’t even try to avoid her.

***

It’s the headache from hell that wakes her up. And it’s the sterile smell of hospital that jogs her memory. And it’s a nurse not much older than y/n that says something about you’re lucky to be alive. 

She’s poked and prodded and asked a thousand questions before her IV is adjusted and a pill to ease one of the many pains scratching her body is handed to her in a small plastic cup. A police officer repeats half of this process, and somewhere in the mess of her reality, she learns that the other driver was sending a text to his wife when he plowed into her car. He’s at home and she’s here. Lucky to be alive.

She made calls to her mom and friends, and even managed to type out a decent email to her professors for her upcoming absence in class.

When she automatically pulled up Harry’s name on her phone, the last text he sent, the one inviting her over so he could make her more miserable than she already was, sat there in all its taunting glory.

What is she even supposed to say? Hey, I know you hate my existence right now, but I’m lying here in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around my head. It’d be cool if you stopped by.

It’s not long before the sun pops up and reminds y/n of just how early it is. The clouds part, and it’s like it had never even rained, like it had never even been dark for hours, and if she closes her eyes, y/n can pretend that the past week hadn’t even happened.

***

 “How are you feeling today?” The nurse checks y/n’s IV, humming after her question.

“Just sore. Ready to get out of here.”

“We’ve started the paperwork, so shouldn’t be too long. Who’s coming to get you?”

Y/n blinks, feeling stupid she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She doesn’t even have a car anymore. The nurse looks over the computer monitor, waiting for a response.

“Uh, my friend.”

“Awesome. Dr. Kirby has to come check on you one last time before you leave. I’ll go see if he can stop by now, if you want to let your friend know.”

As soon as the nurse is out the door, y/n scrambles to turn her phone back on, and once it is, her lock screen is filled with missed calls and unanswered texts.

She’ll respond later; gives her something to do in the car to occupy her in front of Harry. 

She can’t call him. Harry’s not a monster, although the past week doesn’t exactly prove her case, but she knows he wouldn’t refuse to come get her. If anything, he’ll be annoyed she didn’t tell him about the accident sooner. But she’s too emotional to deal with hearing his voice.

She types out a text recounting her last 24 hours, along with the name of the hospital. He immediately reads it, and a moment later he’s trying to call.

To: Harry

I’m too tired to talk rn

She lies. And it works.

From: Harry

I’ll be there as fast as i can

***

“Baby?”

Y/n cracks her eyes open, irritated she never quite fell asleep. Confused as to why Harry’s calling her baby. Angry that she cares. And the next words out of his mouth are ones she’d been predicting.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve dropped everything. You’ve been here all alone, shit. Are you okay? What hurts?”

He’s hovering over her, fidgeting, unsure if he can touch her.

“I’m fine now. Just sore. And tired.”

“Fuck I can’t believe this, I—”

“The doctor already said I can go. I’m not allowed to walk out on my own, so, you need to let the nurse know you’re here. She’ll take me down in a wheelchair.”

“Baby I’m so sorry-”

“No, Harry. You would still be busy hating my guts right now—”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you?”

“Well you did a great job this week making me feel otherwise.”

Harry sighs, gripping the bed frame and dropping his chin to his chest. When he looks back up he has tears brimming his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracks. “I know I’ve been an ass this week. I—you were right. I took out my anger from no one lovin’ the song on you.”

“Well it’s not no one. A lot of people did. And it’s unfinished anyway. You wouldn’t enjoy a meal if it was only cooked halfway.”

He nods, but y/n knows he’s only accepting her words because of the situation.

“You mean so much more to me than a leaked song. I’m sorry I treated you like shit. And that I—I made you think I hated you. You have every right to hate me.”

“You annoy the hell out of me, but I don’t hate you.”

His lips twitch, but a few tears slide down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She takes his hand off the rail and smoothes her thumb across his knuckles. “You can make it up to me by getting me out of here.”

“I can do that.” He kisses the top of her head and hits the remote to call for the nurse.

“You can really kiss me, y’know. I’m not gonna break.”

He’s hesitant, but slowly lowers his head to press his lips to hers. He’s timid, and his lips are still damp from tears, but it’s more relieving than either of them would ever admit.

The nurse ends their moment when she pops in the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. “Hi, you must be y/n’s friend.”

“Friend?” He peers down at y/n, suggestion lacing the word. “Care to explain?”

“Not really, I’m so tired.”

“Mhm.” He clicks his tongue, supporting her arm as she swings her legs off the bed. Once she’s standing and steady, he tucks her hair behind her ear and bends down so his mouth can graze her lobe. “Since we’re just friends, I guess you’ll have to sleep on my ugly couch.”

[dynyamight]

he-hey... if its not bothering u, may i ask no. 5 🥺 👉👈

because ughh ive been reading bkdk doujin and havent found yet kacchan's jealousy as its theme which i'd love it so much 😭 thank u in advance!

send a number & i'll write a bkdk drabble about it

5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“What're you looking at?”

Bakugou blinks, quickly reeling his head to his right.

Seated next to him, Jirou awkwardly tilts her head in question, and her brows pull together.

“Ah, it’s just you were glaring at the floor next to Midoriya’s seat. And, I was wondering what exactly you were staring at.” She states offhandedly, adjusting her backpack on her lap.

He feels a prickling burn on the back of neck. He’s being so fucking ridiculous.

“It's nothing.” Bakugou quips. Before she can ask any further, he quickly grabs a hold of his book bag off the floor beside his seat, and begins to walk out of the classroom.

Usually, the extras stay behind, chatting among themselves about stupid topics, that make his ears bleed. And, as of right now, the talk is all about the dumb gifts they received for Christmas. It’s all so irritating.

He would rather not hear any of it.

“Kacchan!” A shout echoes the hall.

Halting his steps, Bakugou pivots in stance, watching Midoriya rush out of the corridor of their classroom, and hurry to him.

A thumpity thump resounds deep in his chest. Bakugou pushes it down.

“Geezus.” He mutters instead, by the time Midoriya finally reaches his side. “What do you want?”

Midoriya readjusts the backpack straps around his shoulders, before offering a confused smile. “Uh, did you forget? All Might asked for us to meet in his office, after class.”

Bakugou did forget. Though, Midoriya doesn’t need to know that. “Yeah, I fucking remember.” He insists through his teeth. “But, why are you bothering me now?”

Before, Midoriya would have wilted at his words, shrinked, and walked away. It would have left Bakugou at peace.

But, now, he smiles brighter, with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Might as well head over, together.” Midoriya offhandedly says, shrugging off Bakugou’s intimation. “Nothing wrong with wanting to spend more time with you, right?”

And, as of recent, it’s leaving goosebumps all over Bakugou’s arms and having his heart beat restlessly.

“Tch. Whatever.” Bakugou walks forward, refusing to see the satisfaction bloom across Midoriya’s face. Or else, he’d be unable to look away and make a complete fool of himself in front of the damn nerd.

Heart palpitations or not, Bakugou’s pride is still intact.

Oddly enough, by the time they reach All Might’s office, it seems that the retired hero went out for a coffee run, leaving the room empty. Bakugou scoffs, internally despising how inconsiderate the old man’s being. He’s got places to go. Things to do. And, the damn weak excuse of a mentor is wasting his time.

And now, he’s stuck having to deal with trying to quell his feelings down.

On the other hand, Midoriya comfortably settles down on the long couch, bringing his backpack off his shoulders and onto his lap. He hugs it, bringing his head to rest atop of it. “Do you think it’s about my new quirk manifestation? And, how we’re going to hide it from Endeavor?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “No, duh.” He scoffs. “What else would it fucking be?”

Midoriya chuckles softly. “My bad. I was just kinda hoping we would talk about anything, but that. I don’t know. I’m just a bit stressed about it.” Without looking, his fingers loosely grasp around the small All Might keychain dangling off the front pocket of his backpack.

That. Bakugou grimaces. It’s so obnoxious. Outright ugly to look at. A damn fanboy embarrassing himself for others to see.

Ochako got that ugly thing for him, and he’s been over the moon about it, ever since. His spirits have been through the roof and it’s that pathetic keychain that’s been the source. Bakugou hates it.

From across the common room, Bakugou had seen the way Midoriya’s eyes twinkled in utter shaking delight when she gave that to him. He had a wide, dopey smile spreading across his face, and his cheeks bloomed a vibrant pink. It was a sight to see Midoriya look completely awestruck, hugging Ochako tight in gratitude.

All Bakugou could do at that moment was stare, frozen in time.

And, now, he’s being so fucking ridiculous, he knows. Yet, the bubbling disgust under his skin doesn’t cease every time he sees the trinket.

Midoriya protectively covers the keychain in his hands. It takes another moment for Bakugou to realize the nerd is narrowing his eyes at him. “Don’t make fun of me about this. It means something to me.”

Hearing it directly from Midoriya further upsets Bakugou. “Means jack shit! It’s a fucking eyesore!” He snaps back, clenching his fists.

“Ochako gave this to me.” Midoriya states firmly, as if that’s enough reason for Bakugou to not shit on it.

But, if anything, it’s the sole reason Bakugou irrationally can’t calm down about it. “I already know that! You won’t stop running your mouth about the damn thing!”

“No, I haven’t!”

“Yes, you fucking have!”

Midoriya groans, shaking his head. “Regardless! What’s your problem?! You’re acting as if it has offended you, or something!”

“It’s stupid!” Bakugou hisses, seething outright. “You act like it’s the best gift you ever got for Christmas! Hell, I gave you better shit, than that! And, you never babbled about the gifts I gave you, like you do for that measly looking piece of plastic!”

Midoriya blinks, all frustration leaving him. Instead, he’s left with a slackened expression. Wide eyes. Open mouth. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what?’ me!” Bakugou pushes further, losing all sense of his rationale. “Round Cheeks gives you one gift, and you piss yourself about it for days! But, god forbid, I get you something better, far better, you just toss it to your All Might altar! You even have the stupid thing chained to your bag, as if you don’t have better keychains that I gave you, before!”

“Wait a minute.” Midoriya beckons Bakugou to stop, with a small raise of his hand. The surprise in his face has yet to fade. “Kacchan, are you jealous?”

Fire. Bakugou’s face feels like it’s on fire. And, as he tries to get the words caught in his throat out in the open, Midoriya continues to look at him bewildered. It’s so– so—

Bakugou’s walks out of the office.

All Might better fill in for him later about the meeting. Because he refuses to let Midoriya further see how completely whipped he is about him.

It's nothing.

[demiclar]

Destination

Here’s day six of my December writing challenge!

------

Saint’s hand was warm and sturdy in Osiris’ as he led them through the Last City. In the weeks since his rescue from Savathûn, they’d made painfully slow progress, but Osiris was trying to be positive. Both Sagira and Saint would remind him that the progress wasn’t actually as little as he viewed it to be. On Osiris’ first night back in the city, he’d been in a hospital with an IV in his arm and enough wires and machines around him to make Saint cringe. He hadn’t been able to hold down meals and he hadn’t been capable of walking for a matter of days. Now, he and Saint were strolling through the city at an easy pace, and Osiris’ lunch had yet to—and hopefully would not—make an appearance.

Still, it was hard not to be frustrated. It was hard not to be upset, and with more than just the physical shortcomings of his body. He couldn’t help the way he scanned the area around them, a constant habit given his life as a Guardian, but one that felt all the more anxiety fueled now. Saint was doing it with him, however subtly, but he didn’t cringe the way Osiris did when an unseen vehicle backfired, or when nearby construction resulted in a loud crash. Osiris was doing his best to remind himself that the anxieties were unfounded, or at least unwarranted now that he was safe, but they pursued him regardless. Illogical fears are in their nature, illogical.

“Osiris.” Saint’s thumb brushed along the back of his hand, and Osiris rose his head to glance at Saint, blinking as he checked back into his surroundings. “Be here.”

It was Saint’s gentle reminder to pull himself back to the present, to feel the sun on his face, the brush of the breeze, to hear the wind blowing through the bare trees overhead. Saint reached over to adjust his scarf, following it up by gently pulling Osiris’ hat down over his ears.

“Are you cold?” The Titan asked him. Winter was encroaching on the city, but Saint had refused to give up the daily walk they’d been embarking on for the past week, despite Osiris’ frailty and general lack of tolerance to cold temperatures. Instead, he had him bundled up in a sweater, a coat, a hat, gloves, and a scarf, all for weather that was still just above freezing. Osiris had already seen a woman wearing only a sweater and vest to combat the temperatures give him a sidelong look.

“Far from it.” Osiris promised, pulling the zipper of his coat down to let some of his body heat escape. Any longer, and he’d start sweating. Saint himself was only wearing a light coat, though Exos had been designed to resist the brutal Europan winter, so Osiris supposed even he was dressed warmly for weather where snow would not even last on the ground. “I was only distracted. The city is louder than I’m used to.”

Saint hummed beside him, “I suppose Mercury is rather silent compared to this.” Saint glanced sideways as a parked sparrow began blaring an alarm for no apparent reason. “Though I suppose you’ve never had an affinity towards particularly loud or crowded places. Was there ever a city you didn’t mind?”

Osiris was a scholar, much more suited to quiet libraries and sleeping tomes. People and noise only tended to get in the way, and now? While he’d been with Savathûn, the utter silence had been suffocating, but the alternative; any noise, any stimulus in any form, had meant trouble or danger to him in just about every case.

The question perhaps revealed their age more than anything else. He and Saint had both been alive for and seen a few of the last holdout cities scattered across the planet, fighting to hold their own without the Traveler’s protection. Now, all that was left of them was rubble.

“Prague.” Osiris answered, and Saint chuckled.

For as long as he and Saint had been visiting it, Prague’s population had consisted of deer, birds, and other creatures, living among the rubble as if humanity had never been there. They certainly made for considerate neighbors, though not if he wanted to have something like a vegetable garden.

“I don’t believe that counts.” Saint informed him. “Perhaps I should specify; cities with living people.”

“Those are rather dreadful.” Osiris told Saint, and the Titan chuckled again.

He guided them away from the park they’d been ambling along in, instead crossing the street and following a path that wove through a set of buildings until it deposited them along the river, following a stretch of greenery, trees and geese along the river’s edge.

“Perhaps we should move to the outskirts.” Saint suggested. “We could have a farm; I could have a garden and a flock of birds. You could have all the quiet you could ask for.”

“Farms in the Last City are still in the Last City, even on the outskirts.” Osiris reminded, but something in him pushed for him to be positive again, and he sighed. “But you’re right, it would be quieter.”

“Or, we could leave the City entirely, find a place in Europe, settle down somewhere safe. Maybe we could befriend the local Eliksni.”

Just hearing the word ‘Eliksni’ out of Saint’s mouth was a potent reminder of how long Osiris had been gone. Not that it wasn’t a positive change—Osiris believed in the alliance, even if he was still getting acclimated to it—it was just so drastic from what he remembered leaving behind.

“You think we could?” Osiris asked, his words surprising even himself. His voice was quiet.

Saint watched him for a moment before guiding him off the path, down onto one of the empty docks that sat along the river’s edge. They sat down on a bench built atop the dock before Saint responded.

“I think the Eliksni have been waiting to ally with us for a long time.” He told Osiris. “We are more similar than many wish to admit. Than I wanted to admit. I don’t know why the Traveler chose to stay with us when it decided to leave them, but I believe it was the Traveler’s will that brought us together.”

“And you believe the other houses could ally with humanity as well?”

Saint nodded. “In time, certainly. We share too much to allow ourselves be at war any longer.”

“What about the Eliksni that don’t want to ally with us? There are many that would much rather see us dead than as allies.”

Saint frowned. “I admit we would not be able to ally ourselves with all of them, but the House of Light has shown that there are many Eliksni who would rather live with us in peace than continue to fight our endless war. I have to believe that there are others among different houses who believe the same. Peace should be our final destination.”

Osiris let out his breath quietly. Could he even imagine peace, after what he’d been through? Perhaps there could be peace with the Eliksni, but that was only one part of their conflicts. Would they ever reach peace with the Hive? With a machine species like the Vex? Could they, the Last City, humanity, Guardians, ever make it to real, lasting peace?

“That will be a difficult journey, Saint.” He murmured.

“I know.” Saint breathed, “but it will be worth it.”

[winterscaptain]

caught out.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader 

a/n: i am SO excited to share this installment with you! There are a few key developments in this chapter, so get excited! we fly through route 66 and in the blood in this part, and we might get a ring..... :)

an ajf fic that requires little to no context!

words: 5.3k warnings: canon-typical injury, medical setting, some really soft stuff

summary: foyet’s scars leave more than trauma in their wake, but aaron finds he has more to live for - a future, a life, a family. (au!october 2013)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

Before this moment, you’d never fully considered what it would be like for Aaron to die in front of you. You’d certainly come close before - between close calls with unsubs and a fair few stupid decisions, close calls weren’t unheard of by any means. But even in those moments, as scared as you were, there was always part of you that knew he’d be okay. A part of you that knew he’d come home to you. 

Right now, that knowledge is universally absent as he collapses out of nowhere in the conference room. 

“Aaron!” You shoot out of your chair and drop to the floor beside him, immediately reaching for his wrist. You’re relieved to find a pulse, albeit a weak one. You know you’re already crying, absolutely terrified. 

Somehow, you manage to look up at JJ, meeting her wide, scared blue eyes. “Call EMS. They’re in the building and faster than an ambulance.”

She snaps to, running to Aaron’s office for the direct line. 

“Hang in there, baby.” You wrap his hand in yours, and Derek helps you turn him over. Aaron’s halfway in your lap now, your body bowed over him. 

He stirs a little, and you shush him, brushing the hair off his forehead. His breath rattles in his chest, struggling, as he reaches for you. 

“Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” You don’t realize you’re talking until Derek lays a hand on your shoulder. 

EMS arrives, and you’re not sure how much time has passed by the time they get him onto the gurney and down the stairs. You keep up with them for as long as you can before Anderson and Derek snag your arms, holding you back. 

Derek tugs you once, gently, by the wrist, and you fall into him. He’s already moving, guiding you to the elevators and down to the car. He repeats the same things, over and over, every minute or so, as you make the long journey to the hospital. 

“It’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s tough. Hotch isn’t going anywhere.”

+++

A doctor opens the doors, a clipboard in her hand. “Hotchner?”

You rise, approaching the doctor. “Yes?”

“Are you his next of kin?”

You nod, reaching for your wallet. 

The doctor smiles at your obvious agitation. “No need to show your credentials. Agent Hotchner is out of surgery and resting comfortably.”

“What happened?”

She sighs. “The scar tissue from his previous wounds tore, causing slow, but significant internal bleeding. It was touch and go on the table, but he’s a fighter. Something kept him here. Your attending will have more information for you once you’re settled with him.”

You swallow, trying to keep your throat clear as your eyes well up again. 

She presses a hand to your arm. “You can see him now. He was asking for you before we put him under.”

“Thank you.” 

When she disappears behind the doors again, you return to the chair you’d been glued to for the previous six hours. 

Dave stands with you as you gather your things. You look at him and he leans forward to kiss your cheek. “Take your time. We’ll be reachable. Let us know when he’s awake.” 

You nod. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you mentally draft a text message to Jessica before sending it off. JJ let her know what happened after she called EMS, and she’s been standing by ever since. 

As a pair, you decided to keep things from Jack until you were certain of an outcome. No need to make him worry longer than necessary. 

4:27pm Aaron’s out of surgery. Not sure how long they’re keeping him. I’ll let you know when it’s a good time to bring Jack over. 

She replies right away. 

4:27pm. It never ends, does it? 4:28pm I’ll have my phone on me. Thank you. 4:28pm Love you. 

With a little tug at your lips, you reply. 

4:28pm Love you too. Kiss our boy for me. 

A little whoosh sounds as she replies. 

4:28pm Of course xx

You’re finally able to breathe when you see Aaron. Though he looks shockingly small in that big bed, hooked up to intimidating machinery, he is alive. 

Bar’s on the floor, today. 

He’s still out, like the doctor said, and probably would be for another few hours. You cross to his side - the one without the IV - and sit beside him. When you get there, you take his hand and press his palm to your forehead, leaning into him. Even among the sharp, antiseptic smell of the hospital, he smells like himself. 

His touch, as it always does, heals you from the inside out. You can feel your blood pressure drop, your heart rate slow. The warmth of his hand sinks into your head, your chest, letting you take deeper breaths that are far more satisfying. 

After you're sure he’s well and truly alive, you wrap his hand in both of your own and scoot your chair so you can drop your head against his pillow. Uncomfortable in the extreme, you close your eyes, happy for the weight of his hand in yours. 

+++

When Aaron wakes, he’s confronted with a few things that confuse him (the ache in his ribs and the pounding in his head, to name two) and a few that don’t (the smell of your skin, the familiar feeling of your fingers laced through his). He decides to address the less confusing elements first. 

He turns his head, a shockingly difficult maneuver, and finds you out like a light - your head on his pillow, your arm tucked under your face. Even in sleep, your brow pinches and your mouth draws a tense line. 

There’s an attempt to move his hand so he can touch your face, but you wake and startle before he even makes it a quarter inch. 

Your eyes meet his and you heave a sigh of relief. “Aaron.”

His lips pull at the corners. “Hi.” There’s a scrape in his voice, raw from disuse. 

You haul yourself up, bringing one of your hands to his face, mindful of his nasal cannula. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know that?”

“I’m sorry.” His sincerity breaks your heart, and he tries to sit up, but you shake your head, reaching for the remote. 

You prop him up a little and he reaches for you again. You meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his. 

He whispers against your lips. “I’m so sorry.” He leans back, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Did they tell you what happened?”

You nod, your eyes still roaming over his face. “Well first of all, they lost you twice on the table, but before that, the scar tissue from your stab wounds tore and caused significant internal bleeding. They’re sure it was a slow bleed - over the course of hours, maybe days.” 

You swallow, and a fresh set of tears fall down your cheeks. It’s frustrating. 

“If you didn’t go down when you did, when you were awake, it’s possible you could have bled out in your sleep without even realizing it.”

You’re proud of yourself for getting through your thought, even if you were shaking toward the end. It’s close to unbearable to consider the possibility of waking beside him, finding him cold and unmoving beside you. The horror of it pushes at your eyes and a sob rips through your chest. 

For some reason, you apologize. 

He shakes his head, his brow crumpling. “Come here, honey. Come here.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I -“

He shushes you and moves over, leaving space for you to shuffle onto the bed beside him. “You’re not gonna hurt me. Come here. I’m alright.” You tuck your face into his neck as his other arm wraps around you the best while attached to his IV. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

You kiss the skin you can reach, placing a hand over his heart. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.” 

One of his hands traces up and down your back, dancing in patterns you don’t have the brain space to follow, while the other covers yours on his chest. Soon enough, you’re asleep again. 

+++

When Dave comes back to check on you both, he finds you curled together - as much as you can be - in the hospital bed. Aaron’s cheek is smooshed against your head, his cannula knocked out of place, your leg hooked over one of his on top of the covers. Your hands are still clasped together over his chest, his IV easily accessible to the nurses that flutter in and out as the day passes. 

The tear tracks are still visible on your face, the exhaustion still pulling at your eyes. 

In all his years of knowing you, Dave had never seen you as distraught as you were when Aaron went down in the conference room. Up to that point, he thought you both somewhat invincible, even at your weakest. 

Though you both had your fair share of hospital stays over the years, none of them ever broke through that ceaseless calm that arced between you and Aaron. When you’re in the room together, there’s a pervasive comfort, almost moving as two halves of the same person at any given time, hardly capable of the wild panic he saw in your eyes this morning. 

Satisfied you’re both alright, he takes his leave. There is a case to solve, of course. 

+++

Jessica brings Jack over the next morning, and he’s quick to gingerly crawl into his father's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. 

Jack says something you can’t hear, but Aaron’s response carries across the room in his low, murmuring baritone. 

“I’m okay, buddy. We’re alright. I’ll be home soon, and off work for a little while, so we’ll get to spend some time together.”

You meet Aaron’s eyes over Jack’s head before his flicker to Jess’s. He nods once, and holds Jack tight to him. 

When they part, Jack trots back to you and you rake your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. 

He looks up at you, and something passes between you. 

I’ll take care of him. He’ll come home safe to you, bud. 

Jack sighs and tucks into you, wrapping his arms around you. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, baby.” 

+++

“I saw Haley.” 

You look up at him, your chin propped on his shoulder. “What?”

“I saw Haley. We -” he laughs a little, with only the barest hint of a wince. “We were dressed like old Hollywood movie stars and we were in this...theatre.” He shakes his head a little and you know he thinks it’s absurd. 

“Don’t do that. Tell me. What did you see?”

He throws you a grateful look and continues. “She found me in the lobby and we went inside. Foyet was there too, but she wasn’t scared. They were almost friendly. It was...strange.” He squints, remembering. You gingerly place your hand on his chest, feeling the heat from his healing wounds. He places his hand over yours again, his thumb tracking back over the back of your knuckles. “There was this massive screen and she had popcorn...and then a bunch of little scenes from our,” his arm flexes around you, “life since she died started rolling. We talked - about Jack, about you, the way you are with him.”

He’s holding something back. “What did she say?”

“She said,” he swallows thickly, “that you’re good with him. She looked really happy watching you two together.”

You smile, but there’s an edge to it, something long-suffering and raw. “I’ll never be her, though.” You know he misses her and you know it’ll never be the same. But even then, you know you aren’t a replacement, either.  

Aaron closes his eyes and presses a desperate kiss to the top of your head. “You’re just what we need, sweetheart. You’re everything.”

You look at him and he looks at you. There’s something at work behind his eyes. You blink once, slowly. “What are you thinking about, over there?”

The thing playing in his eyes sneaks down to his mouth, dancing at the corners. “Marry me.”

A hysterical laugh leaves you, but there’s no anxiety in it, just disbelief. “What?”

“Marry me.”

He’s dead serious. Weirdly, that observation doesn’t send your heart racing like you thought it would. Nevertheless, you find yourself without speech. You open and close your mouth a couple times, struggling. 

Of course you’d talked about this before. You already lived together, already co-parented Jack with teamwork and consistency - almost every step accomplished completely out of the traditional order of things. There were moments where you brought him a beer or cashed in some favor or another in the bedroom and Aaron would say, “I could marry you, just for that,” but there was always a playfulness to it. You always told him you’d meet him in Vegas by way of response, only half-kidding. 

Marriage was always on the table, always the implication, but you always figured you’d get around to it later. It never seemed to be the right time and you’re happy right where you are, so it never mattered much. 

But here you are, suddenly sitting at the proverbial table, staring engagement in the face. 

Aaron Hotchner just asked me to marry him. 

Well, actually he told you to marry him.

True. I mean it’s not like he has to ask. He already knows the answer. 

So answer him, stupid!

He waits for you with an endless patience. There’s not a hint of concern or anxiety in his gaze - just a soft adoration you’ve seen thousands of times before. He knows what your answer will be. He always has. 

“Okay.”

Aaron snorts. “Okay?”

Your face breaks out into a grin. “Okay, Hotchner. I’ll marry you.” You shrug while he gingerly lets out another laugh. “I’m more than happy to be more than your quasi-spouse and Jack’s quasi-parent.” It’s obviously a joke and he mirrors your grin. “So...okay. Final answer.”

He shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Go into the back pocket of my go-bag and bring me what you find in there.”

You frown at him, but follow instructions, clambering off the bed. 

There’s a little, flatish box with the smallest of code-locks securing the lid in the pocket. It’s made of something reinforced, and it’s heavier than you anticipated. 

Returning to the bed, you sit on the edge, handing him the box. He adjusted while you were shuffling about, now sitting up almost all the way in the cocoon of pillows you built for him. 

With a sly smile, he rolls the code into the lock, and the box springs open. He turns it around toward you, and you’re confronted by a simple, gorgeous ring. 

You blink rapidly, your eyes shifting from the ring to Aaron, and back to the ring. 

“I bought this after I installed Derek as unit chief, four years ago. You rightfully tore into me after I pulled that stunt with that unsub, and I…” he trails off, thinking. 

You can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, picking around years and years of feelings. 

“I don’t know. I knew something I didn’t know, if that makes any sense at all. I knew it was yours, too, when I got it, but I didn’t acknowledge it even after I tucked it in my old go-bag for safe keeping and kept it there, ever since. The only time I didn’t have it with me was in Pakistan. I left it in a locked box in the office at home.” 

He laughs at himself, looking down at the cable-knit blanket over his legs. 

“I’m an idiot, and of course you set me to rights after Pakistan, and Haley told me I was still an idiot not fifteen hours ago. She said you’re the best thing that’s happened to our family, she misses you, and I’ll only be four years late if I ask you to marry me now.” He looks back at you with a little smile. “I love you. It’s not enough, but I love you.”

There’s nothing to say, so you just let him take the ring from the box and slip it in your finger. The silver shines against your skin, the tiny diamonds casting rainbows against the wall in the morning sunlight. 

It’s gorgeous. 

When it’s in place, you scoot closer to him. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, smiling against your mouth. 

“Your flair for the dramatic never ceases to amaze me,” you say against his lips. You lean back, carding your fingers through the hair at his temples. “You couldn’t have proposed to me in the absence of a near death experience, could you?”

He shakes his head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

+++

Wearing your ring around the house feels right. Jack was, of course, in on the whole operation and was absolutely stoked when he saw the ring on your finger as you helped his father through the door. 

You take a few days off together before the next case. Much to your surprise, Aaron lets you help him as he recovers, taking it easy until all of his wounds close back up and his whole regimen of pain meds are almost completed. 

He’s home for a few more days while you return to the field. The team asks after him when you return, and you keep them abreast of his recovery without mentioning your change in status. 

“They’re gonna figure it out eventually,” Aaron said, putting his toothbrush back into his toiletry bag. 

You roll your eyes, throwing your pajama shirt over your head. It’ll likely be removed once you actually get into bed, but it’s the thought that counts. “Yeah, but I’d rather handle that when we’re not actively solving a murder without you, don’t you think?”

His brow quirks and his head tips the slightest bit - a concession. “Fair point.”

When you lean over to grab your jeans off the floor, the ring and chain slip out of your collar and hang down, swinging a little. It falls back against the center of your chest as you straighten, bouncing against your shirt with the lightest of clinking sounds. You find Aaron’s eyes on it when you look over at him and offer him a small smile. “Hey.”

He startles and his eyes jump to yours. 

“I love you.” 

A wide smile and an eye roll return your sentiment.

Wearing your ring on a chain seems like the best way to keep it safe in the field. Aaron doesn’t mind, and you like to have it close to your heart anyways. The indent it leaves in your skin when you remove your vest brings a smile to your face. 

“What’s with you?” JJ asks. “You’re all smiley.” 

You shrug. “I just feel good. It’s nice to have Aaron home and safe, you know?”

She nods, squeezing your shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” 

+++

When you get to the door with Aaron and Jack in tow, Penelope opens the door with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you were going to make it!” 

She wraps Aaron in a tight, but careful hug, presses a kiss to your cheek, and ruffles Jack’s hair. Her all-intents-and-purposes nephew jets past her, finding Henry and Spencer in the dining room playing cards together. 

“We were feeling up to it, and Jack’s friend offered to pick him up here for a last-minute sleepover, so we figured we’d come crash the party,” you tell her. 

She snags Aaron’s sleeve as she steps back into the house. “Oh, happy almost-birthday, sir.” You glance at Aaron with a suppressed smile, and he presses a finger to his lips. “I’ll keep it on the DL, don’t worry.” With another wide smile at the both of you, she ushers you into the house. “Alright everyone .” 

Emily rounds the corner to get Spencer, leaving the boys to play. You have your photo ready, as does Aaron (but he cheats - he always has his photo with him), when you all step up to the beautiful altar Penelope has set up in the middle of the living room. 

Penelope grabs a glass of wine with a fake eyeball in it for Aaron, and one with a fake ear floating in it for you. 

“Uh... I want to thank everybody for doing this with me,” Penelope smiles at you all, “and our altar's burning, and I just feel so blessed to have you all here. I will start. Uh…” She pulls a photo out of her dress. “This is my mom and dad. I miss them.” 

She places another photo, this time of a cat. “And this is my cat Simba with his usual bowl of soda pop. He's a weird cat.” Everyone laughs, and she passes it to JJ.

“Uh, ok. Well, uh, this is my sister Roslyn.” She sets a photo of her sister on the altar. The resemblance between them is uncanny. “Ros. She always dreamt that someday she'd live in Paris, so, um...it didn't happen, but I thought this would bring her some happiness.” Careful fingers drop an Eiffel Tower trinket beside the photo and it draws a little smile to your face. 

Dave steps up, pinning a photo of two smiling young men in Vietnam and two tickets on one of Penelope’s tiny easels. You recognize one of the men as a very young Dave. 

A much older Dave tells you the other man is, “Private First Class Darryl Jenson. We lost him during the Tet offensive.” 

Derek looks around, trying to get a better view. “What are the tickets?” 

“Opening day next season, Wrigley, right behind the home dugout. Jenson was a die hard Cubs fan.” 

“Sweet.” Derek claps Dave on the shoulder and you all direct your attention to Alex. 

“Um... My mom.” Alex places a photo of a smiling older woman next to Roslyn, propped up with a fountain pen. “She was the one who got me into crossword puzzles-- no erasing allowed-- which got me into linguistics.” She looks over at Spencer, who pulls two photos out of his pocket. 

“You said we could bring more than one, right?” 

Garcia nods vigorously. “Oh, yes. This is a come one, come all altar.” 

Aaron pulls you close, and you loop your pinkie through the belt loop at his hip. 

Spencer places a picture of Maeve near a red rose, and your heart breaks for him. He doesn’t say anything until he’s got the second of his photos ready in his hands. “Nikola Tesla. I figured he's probably been inventing things on the other side, so hopefully he'll bring something to us.” You smile as Spencer meets your eyes. 

I love you. 

He smiles a little back. Love you. 

Derek’s next. “I guess that's me. Ok. I brought... My pops.” He props a photo of his dad against a candle, keeping him secured with a cigar. “He was a cigar aficionado, big time.” He laughs a little, as do the rest of you. “And, actually, Rossi, he was also a huge Cubbies fan, so I was thinking maybe he and Private Jenson over there, maybe they could go to the game together.” 

Rossi smiles, and tips his glass to Mr. Morgan. “They can sort that out when they get here.” 

They look at you, and you slip the photo out of your back pocket with your right hand, keeping the other tucked against Aaron. “This is Jenny. Some of you know her as the late Director of NCIS, but she was a mentor of mine for the entire time I knew her. She was killed in the line of duty back in ‘08, protecting a friend.” You laugh a little. “Once, over lunch, she told me to chase what I wanted, to push hard, and advocate for myself.” You throw a glance at Hotch and he catches it with warm eyes. “The next day, I asked the SSA in charge of my NAT class to consider me for a unit placement to complete my case hours.” 

A little smile pulls at your lips. “I wouldn’t be at the BAU, I wouldn't have my life,” My Aaron, you add to yourself, “if it wasn’t for her.” You place her photo next to a candle on the other side of Roslyn. Jenny’s red hair and bright smile match the flame. 

Wordlessly, Aaron pulls the photo of Haley out of his wallet and places her beside Jenny while the team looks on with quiet eyes. He carefully places an opalescent barrette beside her. You recognize it from her box of jewelry - the same one that holds her engagement and wedding rings - that lives in his bedside drawer. 

He tucks you under his arm and kisses your temple. You rest your head against him, wrapping an arm around his waist under his sport coat, winding your fingers in his shirt. You’re wearing your ring, but nobody’s noticed it yet. 

Dave takes the proverbial stage again as he raises his glass. “Well, I guess this is proof positive that ancestry ain't all bad.” 

Garcia follows suit, raising her glass as you all share fond looks. “How about a toast to the... 30 or 40 of us?”

You all cheers, and drink to those in the room and out of it. Haley and Jenny smile back at you. You look at them both, for a moment, before meeting Aaron’s pensive gaze. The same thought floats through your head. 

These are the women that lead you to each other. These women built your future, your present. One to guide you to Aaron and the other to guide Aaron to you. 

It’s only when you absent-mindedly reach over JJ for a snack, after Aaron abandons you for Dave, that the levee breaks. 

“Oh my god.” 

Finally caught out. 

Instead of looking at you, her head whips up toward Aaron, who’s watching her with a smug smile on his face. Her mouth drops open and she grabs your hand, looking at the ring in the low light. It’s all happened within a split second, but Penelope is the next to catch on. 

“‘Oh my God’ what? What’s going on? What did I miss?” She turns, trotting over in her heels to see what JJ’s going on about. 

Her squeal almost deafens you, and you crane your neck to look over at Aaron, who’s taken refuge by the fireplace. 

With a squint, Asshole. 

What? His brows say. I’m just standing here. I didn’t do anything. He takes a sip of his wine and you roll your eyes. 

Help me!

You can see him snort. Not a chance. 

“I can’t believe you got engaged and nobody told me!” Penelope’s indignant shout carries across the room, and Derek’s the next to whip his head toward you. 

“What?” 

She turns toward him, her hands on her hips. “Hotch proposed and nobody said anything.” 

You bite back a smile as the rest of the team advances on you. Your hand seems to fall into everyone’s palm once or twice as they look at the ring. They all coo over it in one way or another before the information actually sinks in. 

“Wait, hold on.” As usual, JJ is the first to bring everyone back down to the ground. “When did this happen?” 

Two hands land on your waist, and you tilt your head, giving Aaron space as he slides his arms around you. “There’s nothing like a near-death experience to straighten your priorities, don’t you think?” 

Alex laughs. “Don’t tell me you proposed in the hospital.” 

You give her a yikes expression, and she huffs.

“C’mon Hotch. Really?”

He chuffs good-naturedly. “Like I said, I experienced a certain...clarity regarding the direction of our lives.” He squeezes you, and you laugh. “Don’t just jump on me for this, though. This one,” you know he’s gesturing to you with his chin, “just said ‘okay’ when I asked.” 

You twist around to glare at him. Traitor bastard. 

He looks way too smug. 

“No you didn’t,” JJ insists. “No you didn’t!” 

“Oh come on, Jayje. You left Will hanging for three years. You don’t have a single leg to stand on.” 

She rolls her eyes, but you know you’ve got her when Will steps up beside her and kisses her cheek. “Got you there, darlin’”

Rossi, of course, takes your face in his hands and plants two kisses on your cheeks and then does the same to Aaron while Derek pulls you to his chest. 

“I’m so happy for you,” he says. He looks over your shoulder at Aaron, still holding onto you. “Hotch, if you fuck this up, I’ll make your death look like an accident and cry at your funeral.” 

Aaron laughs, and you duck out from under Derek’s arm while they embrace with some manly back smacks. 

Alex gives you a hug, followed by Spencer, who offers you a quiet congratulations. Jack and Henry wander out after a few minutes, drawn by the commotion. Henry goes straight to his mom, while Jack runs to you. 

“Did you tell them?” He asks. 

You nod, running your fingers through his hair. Both Hotchner boys have the best hair - thick and soft - and it's nearly impossible to keep your hands out of it whenever one of them makes themselves available for head scratches. It also helps that they’ll do anything for head scratches. 

Win-win, by your standards. 

Dave taps a fork against his glass, getting the attention of everyone in the room. “We have much to celebrate tonight. Not only do we celebrate the lives of people no longer with us, we celebrate the love between two people who are.” He raises his glass. “To our past, to our present, to our future.” 

The rest of you toast, clinking your glasses together. A sense of something you can only describe as normal winds around you all as you drink and chat and laugh in Penelope’s living room. 

Aaron steps up beside you and kisses your temple. “Having a good time?”

“Mhmm.” You lean into him as he wraps his arms around you, pressing his chest to your back. “Really good time.” 

There’s music playing - one of Dave’s playlists - and you sway back and forth, only loosely connected to the beat. You tip your head back, letting your weight rest in his arms for just a moment before remembering he’s still healing, pulling away from him all at on

You can feel him pull you back toward him. “I’m fine, honey. Relax.” After a moment, you do, melting back into him. You almost feel silly for pulling away from him. If you’ve learned anything in the years you’ve known Aaron, he’s anything but fragile. 

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @a-dorky-book-keeper @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild  @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas  @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @katiejuliana @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl

[hargrove-mayfields]

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 1/13 read here on ao3!

my piece for @harringrovebigbang!

Art and moodboard from my amazing team, @monochromegee and @shewritesdirty respectively, to come soon!

~~~~

Six months. Six months and twelve days.

That’s how long Billy has been in the hospital. In a coma. His health rapidly deteriorating.

After one month it was required he be put on a ventilator. Two and his wounds started getting infected. By month three, the hospital asked that a representative be chosen for him, just in case he didn’t pull through.

Neil Hargrove refused. Barked into the receiver something along the lines of, “What do I care if the boy wanted to go and get himself killed?” It was entirely defensive, his voice cracking as he finished his sentence, but the hospital still never contacted him again, not for updates or bills or anything. His wife was far too busy taking care of one grieving child and a lazy husband already to worry about an additional burden.

All of Billy’s extended family was still in California, had written him off years before they’d even left home for Indiana anyways. The moment his mother walked out the door, nobody else wanted him either, so they were off the table too.

The town of Hawkins had been turned inside out by the deaths of more than thirty community members, some of which were still being reported as missing so many months later. Nobody had the time, or in many cases the heart, to take care of the lone survivor.

That left only one person. The one who’d been taking care of him even before he’d fallen into a coma. The one who’d understood him better than anyone else, who’d given him a chance, who’d loved him more than anything.

Steve gets a call from the hospital, the way he is usually woken up these days. Every other morning, as soon as visitation opens, a nurse calls him for a quick update. The duties of a representative for someone unconscious, for his Billy in a coma.

He’s beyond exhausted, dragging himself to and from Hawkins General day in and day out, sometimes bringing Max or a few of the other kids along with him. Mostly because every day is the same thing, walking through the halls, facing the polite smiles from nurses who deal with this on the daily, don’t understand the way it feels to see the one you love on that bed.

If he does hear anything new, it’s usually not good news. He knows Billy is getting worse, but still he sits in that room for countless hours, watching and waiting for the moment he’s struck with a miracle, and he comes back to him.

The hospital is not quite as patient though, and since about month four of Billy’s hospital stay, they’d been encouraging Steve to consider his wards right to die. After so much time had passed by without signs of improvement, the nurses had started hesitating in the doorway when he was around, and offering kind little suggestions that were supposed to push him towards the decision to let Billy go.

Things like, “It’s not really him anymore, honey.” and, “He’s getting worse by the minute, poor thing.”, and Steve’s favorite, the one that made him leave the hospital in tears, “If he wanted to wake up, he would have done it by now.”

But no matter how true what they were saying may have been, Steve really did not want to hear it. The only reason the thought of letting Billy go had ever crossed the minds of doctors and nurses was because of what was on the news, all these up and coming stories about hospital ethics committees that were popping up all over the country recently.

They were being selfish, willing to let Billy die just because they were scared they wouldn’t be able to stand the heat that would come from keeping an eighteen year old boy on life support for as long as they had. Whether or not they actually thought they could save him was a question for another day.

So they would mail Steve countless papers and claims and pamphlets to try to reason with him, to persuade him that the best thing to do was to kill Billy because they didn’t want to deal with him anymore. It made him sick to his stomach, to think that people who were supposedly trained to help people were so hellbent on giving up on a patient.

He wonders sometimes, if they wouldn’t be so hasty to pull the plug had he been an easier case. If his father was more supportive and his biological mother present, or if the government hadn’t worked so hard to cover up the origin of his injuries. Maybe even if his representative was a nice young woman instead.

But there’s nothing he can do about it, so he just crumples the papers and ignores their premature condolences, and goes to visit Billy at every moment he can.

The drive to the hospital that particular morning feels like it takes a whole day instead of the 20 minutes the route actually is, Steve feeling like he’s suspended in time. It doesn’t seem real, taking the stairs up to the second floor, elevators were a no go after the free fall he took at Starcourt, and taking a visitor sticker and a bunch of papers from the woman at the reception desk.

He’s walked this route more times than he can count, but this time he can feel that something is wrong, different. On the top of the very first sheet the desk lady hands him, in bold black letters, are the printed words “Right-to-Die” and Steve already knows what is coming.

The woman gives him a half sympathetic look and reads off her scripted spiel. “The Hargrove boy has been unresponsive for six months now, with no signs of improvement in his condition. The recently instituted hospital ethics board wants you to seriously consider the contents of these forms.”

The words are so hollow, the look on her face mostly bored. Steve guesses this same speech was probably given to a thousand other people who’d come through this hospital, and it makes him feel nauseated just listening to it, her less than genuine pity as she reads off her clipboard, making it seem like she doesn’t even care what she is asking of him.

“It’s of course among your rights as representative to say no, but we want to remind you that he has no quality of life being artificially kept alive, and it might be best to let him go.”

“No, they told me he couldn’t feel anything. He’s not suffering.” Steve insists, and as much as he believes that he is right, the confidence in his voice is false. This was something he’d been thinking about every day for the last half a year. “You’ve kept him alive this long, right? That’s got to mean something.”

“Still, this is about him. We just want you to think about if keeping him alive is the right thing to do anymore when we can’t be sure what he’s going through. When he isn’t himself.”

Of course this was something he’d considered in his own mind, six months is a long time, and it was inevitable that a few times on his worst days, he’d have to think about pulling the plug. It was just so different hearing this nurse who didn’t know Billy insisting on it, it was just so impersonal, and it made him think about the hospital's greed, and how they probably just wanted to save money on ventilators and open up another bed.

Without saying another word to her, Steve walks away without the clipboard of papers, and off to room B-216. Of course he'd known this was coming. They’d been trying to drop hints since the moment Billy stopped being able to breathe on his own, but he’d been in denial. As long as Billy's heart was still beating, Steve had hope that he would recover if the doctors would just try.

Still, as he sits down in the chair next to Billy’s bed, he decides he doesn’t want to call Max today. He takes the desk woman's advice, as angry as it made him, and takes the time to truly reflect on the boy in that bed, with the feeding tube down his throat, the respirator breathing for him beside his bed, the IV in his neck, there because the veins in his arms had been so overused.

His hair is much longer now, just past his collarbones, but without maintenance, his blonde curls are knotted and dull. His skin is unnaturally pale, his freckles faded to nothing, and his whole body is littered with angry, dark red scars. The hole in the center of his chest still isn’t all the way healed, and the nurses are constantly fighting to keep it free of infection.

When he wakes up, they say he will be in immense pain and that he will have forgotten how to walk and talk and probably even breathe on his own. There was a chance too that his memory will have gaps in it, which could mean anything from forgetting what happened to him in July, to not even knowing his own name.

Basically if, no- when he wakes up, he won’t really be Billy.

Steve had always heard about and seen in the movies coma patients who twitch their fingers or moved their eyes, or who really give any signs of life, miraculously waking up and being themselves again, but Billy, he had only done the opposite.

At some point, he has to accept that Billy won’t be like one of those other patients, and, in the condition he is in, all pale skin and open wounds and zero signs of responsiveness, they were only prolonging his death. They had tried just about everything they could thanks to Steve’s willingness to cover the expenses, and, although he didn’t want to believe it, maybe just couldn’t accept it quite yet, it was, as the nurse had said, time to think about letting Billy go.

Not today though. He’d spend today with him at the very least, trying to push those thoughts to the back of his mind while he still could. The nurses used to say, when Billy had first been admitted and they still thought there was a chance of recovery, that Steve and Max, whenever she could come, should try talking to him, and Steve always did.

He never really has a whole lot to say, not since everything has been calming down recently. There were no more funerals to attend, no more grieving families to take a hot dish and his condolences to. The kids didn’t need him to watch them anymore, and Family Video had decided to lay him off until he didn’t have to make daily hospital commutes and he could work again. Basically, Steve’s entire world was Billy.

So it was only fair that Billy was what he usually talked about, reminiscing about everything they’d gotten to do together before the accident, telling him about what was happening with his sister now that she was getting older, and giving him updates on how many days it had been and how much he missed and loved him. One of the nurses had heard him say that once, seen him lean forwards and press a kiss to Billys forehead, but she had only turned away, pretending she hadn’t noticed.

Today though, it was much harder than usual to think of something to say to him. He always tried to leave all of the bad stuff at the door, didn’t think it would do Billy any good if he could even hear, to be listening to him always complaining or moping about their situation, but with death weighing heavy on his mind, what else was there to think about?

The anger and the remorse and the depression would be for when he went home tonight and downed a whole bottle of Fireball, Billy’s favorite whiskey, and called Robin drunk off his ass at two in the morning to tell her about how terrible he felt.

It was because he loved Billy with all of his heart that he wouldn’t put him through that. Even if it hurt more than anything else to see his love broken down and dying, which was, in Steve’s opinion, the worst thing that had ever happened to him, he always wore a smile on his face every day he walked into that hospital room.

As hard as that was, and as guilty as it made him feel to admit, Billy's sickness wasn’t the only thing making Steve miserable. He had also been through some unimaginable things himself while trapped in the Starcourt mall, and he didn't come out the other side the same.

Nightmares plagued him constantly, so that when he would eventually come back home from the hospital, he didn’t sleep more than fifteen minutes through the night. Being alone for too long warped his perception of reality, made him think everyone he knew and loved was gone, that he’d been abandoned or all his friends killed. He would constantly call to check on them, most of the time drunk and panicking, but they’d stopped picking up after the first few times. There were so many triggers too that could send him back to that night in an instant, where he’d just get stuck again.

And perhaps that is exactly why he can’t let Billy go so easily, because even if it is heartbreaking and makes him feel so empty inside being there with a version of his Billy who couldn’t speak to him or who he couldn’t hold, he was still alive. If he died now, Steve would have nothing. It would be no different from the losses everyone had suffered, the death of the chief of police and at least thirty other community members robbing them of their soundness of mind.

Letting go of Billy would just be another blow, to him and to the tight-knit community who had come so close together after the accident that rocked their little town. You wouldn't be able to tell from the fact that his room was always empty except for Steve or his sister, but the papers had revered him as a hero. Who he’d become after being hospitalized meant his death wouldn't just affect loved ones.

But more than any of that, he just didn’t want to give up on him. Pulling the plug meant sacrificing so many more moments they could have together, losing the chance to move on from what had happened. How could Steve ever know when it was the right time to do that?

When was it safe to say that Billy wouldn’t ever recover, and that they were just stretching out the inevitable? When could he feel right in letting his very best friend and the love of his life die? Deep down, past his initial reaction of shock and heartbreak, he knows he’ll never truly be ready to say goodbye, but that now was that time regardless.

Just like the nurses said, he wasn’t really Billy anymore. Who he’d been was a teenage boy with too much energy to burn, always getting into trouble and always in motion, bouncing his knee, twisting the ring on his middle finger or the locket around his neck, chain smoking cigarette after cigarette. It used to drive Steve insane how he wouldn’t sit still for anything, but now he would give anything just to have that back.

There was no personality left in him, no stupid jokes to cheer Steve up, no pestering his sister and her friends like a big brother does, nothing left in him at all that made him distinctly Billy. Steve wondered if maybe he had already given up.

If maybe, Billy wasn’t even in there at all anymore, and they were holding on to nothing just to feed their own selfishness. Steve wasn’t the most emotional of people, usually panicking before he got upset, but he could feel tears pricking at his eyes now, as he watched the slow rise and fall of Billy’s, or not Billy’s, chest, and listened to the beeps and hums of the machines that kept him going.

He knew what needed to be done. Just not today.

For now, he holds Billy's hand, unmoving and just warm enough that he could tell he was alive, and whispered to him anything that came to his mind.

If Billy could hear him, he knew he was probably tired of hearing the same stories over and over, thinking of Billy waking up and complaining about Steve being too boring made him chuckle to himself. An instant pang of regret tightens his chest, feeling guilty for being happy.

There was a really sweet nurse about the age of his mother who always checked in on him at the same time everyday, like he was the one with tubes and machines sticking out of his body. Her name was Dale, and she always peeked her head into the room around meal times to ask if he had been down to the cafeteria yet. Usually he hadn’t, and sometimes he still forgot to eat anyways, but it meant a lot to him.

Today though, she came all the way in the room, a sad look on her face, and he had to avoid her gaze entirely to keep himself from breaking down, choosing instead to focus on Billy’s slender fingers where he’d laced them through his own.

“Steve, honey, I know this is really hard for you, it’s hard for all of us when something like this happens, but you need to take care of yourself.” She was just being kind, but he wouldn’t hear it.

If this was going to be the last full day he’d ever spend with Billy, he was going to make it count. A soggy sandwich in the dingy old cafeteria wasn’t worth spending a single moment away from the other boy's bedside. He feels vaguely guilty about it, but he ignores the well meaning nurse, even as she says her generic condolences that all of them were trained to say.

He smooths out Billy's hair, brushing the part that always hung in his eyes to the side carefully, something Billy himself had always seemed to do when he was nervous. It reminds him of the time they tried to do each other's hair and Billy taught him how to make a braid, so he tells Billy about it.

When he hears the distant roar of a car's engine from the open window, it reminds him of the first time Billy drove him home in the now totaled beyond recognition Camaro, so he talks about that. A bird landing on the windowsill reminds him of sitting on Billy’s bed and talking about the seagulls and the beaches back in California where Billy had grown up, so he tells Billy that story too. The phone ringing at the receptionist's desk down the hallway reminds him of the time Billy had called him in the middle of the night to invite him out to the quarry, where they’d kissed for the first time and Steve clumsily asked him to make things official, so again, he told Billy all about it.

It's mostly a comfort to himself, keeping his mind off of the reality of the situation, but then the desk lady announces over the overhead system that visiting hours are over, and it’s time for him to go.

They had been giving him a lot of leeway here at Hawkins General, allowing him to visit every single day and sometimes with a 14 year old, which was strictly against the rules of the ICU. The end of visiting hours was a rule they always stood by though, and despite how much it crushed him to leave Billy by himself overnight, he always did it.

On his way out, he grabbed the stack of papers the receptionist tried to give him off of her desk. He would call Susan in the morning and ask her what she thought. He would try to involve her in the choice, since she’d technically claimed Billy as her dependent after her marriage to his father, who had given enough verbal and written agreements that he wanted nothing at all to do with his son while he was hospitalized that his wife could, and had, stepped in.

He went home that night with the thought in his head that this was the last time he’d do this, and by this time tomorrow, Billy would be dead.

[ceescedasticity]

Twelve Missing Princesses IV

“Twelve daughters of the House of Finwë who might have slipped through the in-universe-historical-document cracks (plus one who DEFINITELY would not have)”

Part IV: Supplemental documents

Private letter from Lady Galadriel, handed to Finarfin High King of the Noldor in Aman, F.A. 588:

I write to you privately of Iestorwen Laethriel, who has been taken to Lórien for healing but who I hope will come to you in Tirion afterwards. I will not tell you the whole sorrowful story of her origins, for it is hers to tell. (Other than Laethriel, it was only ever known to Maedhros, Maglor, Fingon, Fingolfin, Finrod, and myself.) But there are things you and the rest of our living family should know.

She is Maedhros's daughter by blood and by choice. Most who know this believe she was begotten when he was in despair after the Nirnaeth, but this is not true; she is much older. She has not seen Maedhros since a yén before the Sudden Flame. He loved her, and she still loves him very much and mourns accordingly. She understands he has done evil things, and will not speak up against any condemnation of him, but to hear it cuts her deeply, and to hear that some acts are beyond forgiveness cuts her worse.

We do not know her mother's name or kin, and did not try to learn them. Speak to her of the matter ere you go down that road. For practical purposes her second parent was Fingon. He gave her the name Iestorwen, as Maedhros gave her Laethriel. She had no difficulty acknowledging other authorities or kinfolk, and indeed has faithfully followed me and Celeborn east of the Ered Luin for many years; but Maedhros and Fingon were her parents and she loved them best and misses them still.

I hope time in Lórien may help with this, but if she is badly startled or frightened she may flee or strike out. If she strikes out she can be dangerous. If she flees she can be difficult to locate. She will sometimes seek out the most perilous place nearby.

I have promised her our family in Aman will receive her with kindness, understanding, and love. I beg you, do not make a liar of me in this.

*

from "The Rulings of Lord Eönwë in Endórë", Valmar, S.A. 1

Having reaffirmed her refusal to submit to judgment, Artanis Arafinwiel then suddenly knelt.

"I stand by my words: but I beg you for mercy for one who is in my charge.

"She was born in the dungeons of Angband by a vile crime of the Enemy's, and enslaved to their purposes for long decades before we freed her. And we were new and inexpert at such endeavors, then, and though we sought only to help we do not know if we did her fëa any injury in our cutting away the chains upon it.

"Since then she has been noble and kind and true. But we have never been completely certain every trace of the Enemy's power is gone from her mind, and though it was not her will it was her hands that spilled the blood of kin, and both of these haunt her. And before it all was the unspeakable wrong done her mother and father, which she fears cannot but reflect on her.

"Her mother could not stand the sight of her, and named her Naegradis for pain, and regardless did not leave Angband alive; her father is lost to her; she is left only with more remote kin, and we try to help her but we fear it is not enough.

"I implore you to grant mercy and healing to this child, and let her go to the Blessed Realm to live without fear."

And Lord Eönwë was moved, and despite the lady's defiance assured her that this girl her charge would be brought with utmost kindness to the Gardens of Lórien for such healing as she needed, and afterwards would be free and welcome among the Amanyar.

Artanis bowed and thanked him respectfully, then left and did not look back.

*

[There may be another supplemental document to be written about how things played out in F.A. 80-81 when several princes of the Noldor got a very big surprise (and someone in Angband had a plan fail dramatically and probably got in a lot of trouble about it), but I've had a couple false starts and haven't written it yet, and I think this conveys the most important information...]