#i do love reading inscriptions

[zanarkandskylines]

₊✩‧₊⇢  right person, wrong time?

『 ෆ k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — repost; after more discussions, i decided to delete the follow up on the original post thread & re-post separately. i don't wanna be accused of stealing someone's idea after already apologizing for it. this'll be the last i talk about it.

Bakugo’s loved you since high school. You always pushed him to work hard, never took his shit without giving it back tenfold, and was a pillar of support through some of the toughest times in his life. Even so, he’s convinced himself you’d never feel the same, that he has no shot with you.

Why?

Because you’re quirkless.

You’re part of the 20% without one, and he told himself he can’t get in your way of your life. Bakugo can’t stand the thought of being the reason why you don’t chase after your own dreams. He knows you too well - you’d put your happiness aside to support him the second he asked. You’d put your life on hold if it meant for him to succeed as a pro hero.

But he can’t do that. You’re the one thing he can’t seem to bring himself to be selfish about.

So Bakugo sits idly by, for years, as your best friend. The one you’d do anything for, no matter the time or place. He watches you date shitty guys and picks up the pieces they leave you in. Buys you your favorite foods when you have a bad day, surprises you with “just thinking of you” gifts, and drops whatever he’s doing the second you need him.

He’s attempted dating, desperately tried to get you out of his heart and make room for someone else - he fails each time. Miserably.

So tonight, that all changes.

You’re attending the annual Hero Gala together tonight, just like you have for the last four years. Bakugo always asks you to be his plus one as it keeps people away from him and he gets to spend time with you…rather, gets to see you dressed to the nines and have you on his arm all night long. It’s the one day a year he gets to pretend you’re his.

You’ve recently gotten a huge promotion in your line of work and he’s broken the top 10 of the hero charts - what better time than now to shoot his shot? He’s waited long enough, run through every excuse in the book why not to tell you how he feels.

The night winds down and the two of you get back into his car, sitting in silence for the ride home. That’s not uncommon for you two, but Bakugo’s reading too much into it tonight. It makes his hands tremble on the wheel, white knuckling the pleather from nerves. Once he pulls up to your apartment complex, he turns the car off and gets out to open your door for you.

To his surprise, you invite him in.

“I have a surprise for you!”

Bakugo’s whole body is tense at this point. What could you have for him?

“Here, open it.” You hand him a small box wrapped in orange paper. “It’s not much and a little cheesy, but congratulations on breaking the top 10!”

He opens the package to find a golden bracelet in a box with the inscription “plus ultra, dynamight!” on the underside of it.

“Ya didn’t have to get me shit, but thank you. I love it.”

He hugs you immediately, scooping you into a loving embrace and relishing in the excuse to have skin contact with you.

“I, uh, actually have somethin’ for you, too.” His voice waivers while he fiddles with his jacket pocket. You raise an eyebrow while waiting for him to present…whatever it is he had.

Bakugo pulls out a small box of his own, handing over the velvet jewelry case. You gingerly take it from his palm and can’t help but notice he’s shaking like a leaf.

“Are you okay, Kat? You’re shaking.”

“Just…open it.”

And you do - revealing a beautiful rose gold locket inside. It’s in the shape of a heart, dainty yet big enough to fit a minuscule picture. Before you open it, he stops you by gently touching your hand. He’s trying to hold eye contact with you, but keeps darting between your gaze and the ceiling.

“I’m sorry if this seems outta nowhere, but it’s been eatin’ me alive for years. And if it’s too much, we can forget it ever happened.”

You tilt your head at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Oh. The locket.

Time crawls to a halt as you pry open the locket, peering into the small enclosure to see two things - a picture of the two of you on the left and a small handwritten phrase on the right.

‘I love you. -Kats’

The silence in the apartment is deafening. Bakugo’s vibrating out of his skin while awaiting a semblance of a response to his confession. You’re normally easy to read, but in the moment, he’s struggling to observe how you could be feeling. It’s driving him fucking insane. He starts to feel regret, embarrassment settling in his bones as he bites his lip.

He just ruined everything. The precious friendship you two had - gone. He knew that locket was a stupid idea.

Bakugo’s preparing himself for your rejection. The tears are building and the lump in his throat solidifies. He attempts to keep himself together as he begins to croak out an apology.

“Look, I shoulda—”

“Say it.”

Bewilderment is an understatement as he recoils at your demand. He blinks the stray tears away, all the breath he had being stolen away by your words. He swallows thickly, never thinking he’d get this far in the conversation. He was fully prepared to high tail it outta there, not…stay.

“Wha—”

“Tell me you love me.”

This can’t be real.

Bakugo’s body moves on its own, closing the gap between you two in under the dim light of your entry way. He cradles your jaw, thumbing over the apple of your cheek and studying your eyes as he takes a deep breath. This is the moment he’s been waiting for - the one he’s been yearning over. The opportunity to tell you exactly how he feels, how much you mean to him.

Four words is all he needs.

“I fucking love you.”

You can’t help but laugh, maybe a little too loudly as Bakugo’s cheeks turn strawberry in color.

“It’s about damn time. I love you too.”

His heart pounds, his legs feel like jello, his muscles stiffen. And yet, he powers through it all.

Your lips meet for the first time - the kiss is soft, sweet, careful.

When you part, his vision blurs a bit, overwhelmed by the emotions swelling in his chest. His lips are slightly parted behind heavy breaths, taking in the moment he was so graciously given.

“I didn’t wanna get in your way.”

You laugh. “Then don’t be in my way, come with me.”

God, he was such an idiot. A lovesick fool blinded by his own infatuation to see that his best friend loved him, too.

You hand the locket to Bakugo and spin around while holding up your hair. He tenderly places the chain around your neck and secures the clasp, letting the metal fall to your collarbone.

“I’m all yours, Katsuki.”

You always have been.

thanks to everyone who sent in a message & encouraged me to keep this up. we're all just trying to have a good time together on this site and share our feelings about characters we love. there's no need to talk down or discourage others from expressing themselves.

[prismatic-bell]

So I’ve seen a few posts going around lately about philosemitism, but mostly in the context of people being called out for it, and it’s occurring to me that if you don’t have a frame of reference for it, you probably don’t understand why it’s really a very bad thing.

So I’m going to share a story that happened to me a few years ago, when I was studying for my b’nei mitzvah.

This lady pulls into my drive thru at work. She’s wearing a MAGA hat, and before I can hide my Magen David necklace—this was not that long after Charlottesville—she absolutely GUSHES “oh, you’re Jewish?” and immediately starts going on about beautiful traditions, Jesus was Jewish, yadda yadda. (All the Jews reading this are currently nodding because they’ve all met this woman at least once.)

And then she gets to the part I want to highlight for the goyim, the learning part of this:

Her: And we need to stick together, because you know what’s right in the middle of Jerusalem, right?

Me: …..the Temple? (It’s not, it’s at the city’s edge, but I could see someone hearing “center of religious and cultural life” and making an assumption.)

Her: no!

Me: …….the Knesset?

Her: no! How do you spell Jerusalem?

Me, thinking she saw the Hebrew book next to me: yod-reish-shin-lamed—-

Her: no, no! U-S-A! J-E-R-U-S-A! The United States is part of Israel!

Y’all.

This woman.

Legitimately believed.

That “Jerusalem.”

Was the name.

Of a Jewish city.

In a language.

THAT DOES NOT HAVE A “J” SOUND.

She literally told me I was wrong when I pronounced it Yerushalayim, which is the Hebrew transliteration of the older “Urusalim,” which is the original name of the city in the Canaanite languages circa 1500 BCE. (An even older inscription has been found in Egyptian, but it’s a little wonky because the two languages didn’t have the exact same sounds—think of how an English word spoken by a Japanese person and then transliterated as they said it would look.) “Jerusalem” as a form literally cannot occur until after the word has filtered through Latin and into English—at the earliest, the 3rd or 4th century CE—because there’s no J in Latin, either.

THIS is philosemitism: this woman wanted so badly for Judaism to be her fun toy that she completely ignored Jewish reality. We weren’t actually people to her; we were a thing for her to exotify. When actual Jewish experience refuted her she ignored it, but many philosemites will get angry when they’re faced with reality.

If you’re thinking “wow, that sounds a lot like fetishization,” you’re right, because it is. It’s fetishization crossed with the kind of “support” a lot of people offer the queer community, where they love it when it’s waving rainbow flags and “oh my g-d, girl, slay,” but the moment it’s anger over the STD crisis or the underserving of homeless queer youth, they dip. They’re only around while it’s ~*~*~aesthetic.~*~*~

Philosemitism isn’t “loving Jews too much.” It’s loving a stereotyped ideal you put on a pedestal, and not allowing for diversity of Jewish experience.

[disneyprincemuke]

santa baby * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic!femdriver

notes: hi i know i took forever to write this but uh what r u gonna do? ik u love me B)

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

you hum, whirling around at the camera crew settling right by the front of the mercedes racing home. “ah, it’s that time of years again, isn’t it?”

“yes! are you excited?”

you nod with a smile as you see a box being pulled out of the cart they’ve been lugging around in the paddocks for the video. “have you seen the present? got any hints for me?”

“aw, we can’t do that,” she giggles. “where’s the fun in that?”

secret santa is the yearly affair that you find yourself looking forward to as the year progresses. it’s always the santa hat and the fun of guessing who’s gotten you what this year. what used to be a silly game of gag gifts when you first started out, is now an endearing event filled with thoughtful gifts that you keep on your shelf for years to come.

last year, max had gotten your name. he is very thoughtful with his presents. his present sits at the top of your shelf: a paper mache trophy he admitted that he made with penelope (you’ve met her and she loves you) deeming you his toughest competitor in 2022.

you’re curious to see who drew your name this year.

“oh! do i get to keep this one?” you giggle as she hands you a santa hat. you pull it over your head snuggly and clap your hands. “where is it?”

“here.”

a box is handed to you, wrapped neatly in a mercedes green paper. you squeal as you take it into your hands and carefully unwrap it. there is something about wrapping paper that is so incredibly delicate and worth keeping.

you carefully tear at the tape holding the seams and edges of the box.

“any guesses who it could be right off the bat?”

“it could be anyone at this point,” you sigh, shaking your head. “could it be max again? hopefully it’s not charles — who knows what he will give me.” you look up to the camera. “in secret santa terms, of course. he is actually a good gift giver.”

you tear off the wrapping paper, folding it up neatly before pinning it between your body and elbow. “okay. truth time.”

you pull the cover off the box and tilt your head at the array of presents sitting comfortably in mercedes’ coloured confetti.

“what did you get?”

“a ‘best mum’ mug?” you say, coming out in a slight question as you lift up the pastel green mug to the camera. “am i pregnant and somehow it’s passed me?”

you hear a chorus of laughter as you venture further, each of the presents somehow getting weirder by the second. “and a christmas card? seriously?”

you graze your fingers over the 3d design on the card with a small smile, reading ‘merry christmas!’ with a cute doodle of a christmas tree in the centre. “we’ve been instructed to tell you to read that after you get all the presents and guess him correctly.”

your eyes trail to the gold plate in the shape of a star.

“another trophy!” you shriek. you squint your eyes to read the inscription on the plate. you sigh and press your lips together into a thin line. you hold it up. “best grid mum. the spelling alone gives it away!”

you step forward and let the camera zoom into it, the inscription reading “best grid mom”. “logan’s my secret santa?”

“ah, rookie mistake with the spelling there, wasn’t it?” she laughs. “there’s one more gift. he told us to give it to you when you figure it out.”

somebody else reaches out with a frame in their hands. you take it into your hands and smile, a picture of you and logan sitting right outside the mercedes home together for lunch sits tightly behind the glass.

“this is so sweet!” you coo, one hand covering your red cheeks. “do you want me to read the card?” she nods. you open the folded card and read as you speak. “thanks for welcoming me this year to the grid. you’re the best ever. hope i get to race with you longer than just this season. love, your secret santa.”

you look up as tears well in your eyes, looking into the camera. “aw, you’re the sweetest, logan. don’t worry, i’ve already got a present for him this christmas.”

you point to the lens of the camera. “can i grab this thing real quick for dramatic effect?” he nods. you grab the frame of the lens and take a step forward. “james vowles, if you do not re-sign logan hunter sargeant, i know where to find you.”

@cashtons-wife

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Hearts [S. R] part 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

part 1!

summary: morning coffees become the special moments between you and Spencer, but you also discover that he may have more competition for his love than you expected.

N/A: I never thought this would be so well received and I honestly feel so happy! I am very grateful to all the people who requested a second part, I hope you like it and if you want to tell me something in the comments I will read it with pleasure!

people who might be interested: @c-m-stuff @no-soy-fer @synthsescape @bella-fics @cynbx

That morning Spencer came to his desk with coffee in hand and set it carefully to one side, the sight of his scrawled name looming large throughout.

Spencer <3

What did that mean? It was his name, that's obvious, but it was written with such a careful and clean line that it was very beautiful to admire and the heart drawn next to it was what didn’t quite add up in the whole thing. Reid knew that it was an ideogram used to express the idea of affection or love, so the most logical conclusion was that you were trying to communicate a feeling of that kind, but then he wondered: was it affection between friends? a simple show of affection, he supposed. Nothing further, surely it could not be anything else.

There were days when you and he barely saw each other, as the team had to go out to handle cases in the field and you stayed behind to do literally whatever you could do to complete your service hours, but every morning without fail you looked for him to deliver the long-awaited coffee. You were keeping your promise and for three days you arrived with two cups on the tray, one clean and the other labeled for him: Reid, Spence, Doctor R., all titles followed by a drawing of a heart. When Friday rolled around and you handed him what he thought would be his last cup, you decided to propose a deal.

"Today I was thinking that I could buy your coffee permanently, if you want” you exclaimed kindly, while you watched him from the chair that you had pulled to sit next to him. Some mornings when there wasn’t so much movement you would stay there to drink a few shots of your coffee and share a small moment of the day "It's on my way here and it's obvious that you like it"

“Oh, I… I couldn't even think about it, no. I would take too much advantage of you"

“You're going to pay me back, Reid. I'll just bring it” you laughed, watching him turn red to the ears while he drank a little to try to mask it.

"Then, I'd love to," he exclaimed with a tight-lipped smile. He was a little excited to continue having excuses to talk to you every day and, above all, to drink the delicious coffee that he had already gotten used to.

"Although I'm running out of ideas, to be honest," you said amused, because that day the cup didn’t have any inscription due to that lack of creativity. But as by the work of fate, an idea came to your mind, so you smiled from ear to ear while you took a black marker from your friend's desk and took the cup from his hand. Spencer looked at you carefully and curiously while you were writing and just when you finished Hotch called you from the other side of the tables "I have to go, don't miss me too much" you murmured, handing him the glass and then winking at the boy, who in response only awkwardly raised his hand.

Once you left, he looked at what you had written, less neatly than the other times, and felt himself grinning like a fool:

My fav agent and again that damn heart.

“Y/N”

"Yeah?" you asked, looking up at another of your fellow interns. You had a room where everyone could stay for a while to work on their own business, but on this occasion, curiously, only women had gathered at the table, there were about five of you in the entire building. Among them Jennifer, a girl you liked very much and with whom you could presume to have something like a friendship, and for some strange reason there was also Victoria.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Huh… yeah, I guess" you muttered a bit confused, and even though you didn't know the girl she smiled in your direction.

“Is that brown-haired guy you talk to every morning your boyfriend?”

“Spencer?” you asked, widening your eyes at the surprise with which the question had taken you. You expected her to ask what band you listened to the most, your favorite food, or some other stupid thing, but not that. Now all the girls' attention was on you, including Victoria's inquisitive scowl and Jennifer's amused look “I wouldn't say that” 

"And do you think you can introduce me?" she said with more enthusiasm than she intended, and they all laughed collectively.

“I get second in line”

"Girls, girls..." Jennifer intervened and you knew that from that moment the topics of the internship would take a back seat “He may not be her boyfriend now, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want him to be”

"Jenn!"

"Am I lying?" she sneered “You smile every time you see him and you two look so in love whispering to each other every morning. Also, a week ago I saw you go out together at night”

"Jenn," you insisted, muttering to her in the hope that she would notice that you wanted her to shut up. It wasn't that you were ashamed of being associated with him, you just didn't want to spread wrong rumors that might embarrass him.

“How come he's already an agent? He looks very young”

“It's because he's a prodigy, duh. He’s as attractive as he’s intelligent”

"I imagine that being such a smart man he knows perfectly the weak points of a woman" another girl murmured, joining the conversation "If you know what I mean"

“For now we are just friends. That's all" you said trying to end the conversation, completely embarrassed that such a personal matter had ended up as the talk of all the female interns of the FBI. It was supposed to be a serious job and you guys looked like gossipy high school girls.

"Maybe he's waiting for someone better," Victoria said into the air, a venomous tone permeating every word.

"Anyway, if you give up, can you get me his number?" insisted the first girl. You nodded just so as not to break his illusion, but you knew very well that Spencer didn't use a phone beyond what was necessary for work.

Even though you yourself had told him that surely many girls liked him, you didn't expect that he really had admirers so close and to be honest a pang of jealousy invaded you. Victoria was the most obvious of them all, but you knew that being college girls they were more likely to admire the masculine charm of perhaps the youngest member of the FBI. They too were young and beautiful, but you chose to trust that you had the upper hand in winning the man's affections.

You tried as hard as you could to concentrate on your tasks, but now that his name had come up it was hard to think of anything but him. Spencer wasn't a very expressive guy, but you knew that he was comfortable with you or else he wouldn't seek you out or agree to talk to you like you did, although clearly that didn't ensure that he was attracted to you. Maybe he just saw you as a good friend.

At night, when you were about to go home, you tried to look for him so you could see him again with the excuse of saying goodbye, but you were surprised when you saw that he was talking to Victoria in an already empty section. Curiosity to know what they were talking about invaded you and you stood where you were, squinting your eyes to try to read their lips. Reid wasn't participating too much in the chat, you'd even say he looked awkward, but she was shamelessly flirting with him. Perhaps the sudden change in attitude that she had had was what your friend had missed so much and just when you thought of approaching to go save him from the situation, she stood on her toes and crashed her lips against his, leaving you standing just in your place and completely in shock.

You didn't expect her to dare to do something like that, but the reaction he had left you even more surprised, because, although it wasn't so favorable, he didn't seem bothered by the show of affection he had just received either. He just stood in front of her, looking her up and down as if he were analyzing her.

You didn't want to stay there any longer and almost instantly you turned around to walk out the front door, hoping that this had meant absolutely nothing to him and the next day you could look him in the face without feeling the jealousy boiling in your veins.

It was almost time for dismissal when Spencer remembered that he had a file to go through that he'd ignored all morning, and he cursed himself a little for leaving things until the last minute. His coworkers told him that he could finish it the next morning, but he knew that if he did that he probably wouldn't have time to drink coffee with you so he preferred to stay a little later there.

Little by little the offices emptied and when there was almost no one left, he finally finished, feeling the discomfort of the recurring pain in his back due to the bad position in which he sat. He put his things away, put on his coat, and slung his briefcase over his shoulder, ready to go back to his apartment, but a person got in the way when he was about to cross the hall. Due to exhaustion and seeing that it was a female body he assumed it would be you, but when he paid more attention, he noticed that it wasn’t even remotely possible that the ironed black hair was yours.

"Doctor Reid"

"Miss Evans" he greeted her, without losing cordiality, but not with too much emotion either.

"What are you doing here so night?"

"Job. There's nothing else to do around here at this hour,” he said without looking at her. But the girl was determined to get that one-night stand that she was sure you had, lie as it was.

“It's a shame, but I know a bar near here that you might like if you want to have a little fun”

“Bars are noisy and are one of the biggest sources of infection that can exist. Sweat, alcohol, and unknown fluids permeate the environment and it is very probable that the consumption of drugs affects not only those who consume them but also those who are close to them, so I prefer to decline your invitation" he exclaimed, hoping that this explanation would be enough to make it clear to this woman that he wasn't interested.

“So you're more of hanging out in the apartment? I have a lot of great things in mine, including a jacuzzi."

“Jacuzzies are unsanitary” he insisted. If he proposed, he would know that he would find a valid excuse for whatever plan she might suggest.

"What a killjoy, Agent Reid” she giggled, but he wasn't too amused by any of it. "Do you ever have fun?"

"I think my concept of fun and yours diverge a lot" he murmured, still not looking at her directly and ready to end the conversation.

Spencer was about to leave when she raised herself to his height and in a quick movement that caught him off guard, she smashed her lips against his. As she turned away from her the man froze completely in his place, looking at her from head to toe as if she were some strange natural specimen.

"What if I promise there will be more of that?" she asked, in a last-ditch attempt, faking a honeyed voice. He was going to respond when there was something that forced him to look in the direction of the exit door, where someone else was already walking. From the pattern of colored stripes on the jacket he knew it was definitely you and if it was you then you probably witnessed the entire exchange. He felt the urge to run after you to justify himself for something he hadn't even done, not knowing why he was embarrassed or worried that you'd seen that. “Come on, are you really going to say no to all this?”

"Listen to me, Victoria. I understand if having power over others gives you pleasure because you are the least noticed and recognized member of the family, or if you enjoy saying hurtful things to people to feed your own insecurities, but I ask that you please stay away from me and stop trying whatever you're trying. I don't like you, you're a bad person and I won't allow you to kiss me without my wanting it, or to make your sexual advances that won't get you anywhere. So again, I say don't bother me again” he said and without waiting for any answer he walked out of sight of her. Even if he had stayed, Victoria had her ego so hurt that she didn't think of anything to say back and instead she just let helpless tears fill her eyes, followed by a gesture of a tantrum.

When Spencer came downstairs he couldn't find you anywhere and the anxiety in his stomach only increased, wishing he had misrecognized the person who had left so it wasn't about you. The matter didn't keep him awake, of course, but when he noticed the next morning that you weren't at his desk, he thought it was reason enough to worry. Worse still when he noticed that you had left a lonely cup on the table, with absolutely no adorable titles decorating it. It made him feel so guilty, like he somehow knew that you were upset because you'd seen Victoria kiss him the night before and he wasn't worthy of your affection anymore.

Even Hotch noticed that he was more distracted than usual and although he had already seen your exchanges, he thought it would be better not to intervene in anything that had to do with young love. Being a cupid was a more difficult task than the one he already fulfilled at the BAU. So when night came and he didn't look at you anywhere, anxiety was already eating him to the ground, wishing he could have your phone number to at least comfort himself with hearing your voice. Going to your apartment was something he considered, but then it became unthinkable because he didn't even know how you would react.

Victoria became less of a concern as she seemed to get the message perfectly and every time during the day that he crossed her path she just looked away, totally offended.

But when the same situation arose twice, he felt that something was wrong and he wasn't going to endure a third time. It was then that Spencer left the house early that morning to stop by a bakery and buy a couple of fresh sweet buns, hoping that this time you were expecting him. But his disappointment was greater when he saw that once again there was only the bare cup of coffee.

"Didn't you see Y/N?" he asked Elle when he arrived, nervously fiddling with the paper bag he was holding in his hands.

“No, she just left your coffee and left, but I don't know where. She seemed pretty rushed”

Spencer inwardly cursed and sighed in frustration, until a few seconds later he caught sight of you on the other side of the building, carrying a stack of folders and talking on the phone. He didn't hesitate for a moment before running (at first, then he slowed down a bit as he remembered the incessant times Hotch had scolded him for it) towards you so he could finally talk to you.

“Y/N,” he said softly as he reached your side, and he took the bright smile you gave him as you turned to look at him as a good sign.

"Wait a minute" you mouthed, still answering the call you had on the line, and when you hung up you finally turned your attention to him "Hey, Reid. Good morning"

"I bought you this" he murmured, showing you the bag with food inside, and you almost moaned with happiness.

“Food is what I need most to survive the day”

"What are you doing?"

“Two days ago, your boss Gideon thought it was a good idea to make me his personal secretary. So right now, I'll do everything he asks me to do” you snorted, obviously exhausted by the work you had done and by the ones you surely would have to do.

It clicked in the boy's mind and then he understood that this was the reason you hadn't seen it, not because you were angry. Relief ran down the length of his spine.

"Really?"

“I don't even think that's legal, you know? I'm an intern, they don't pay me a penny and they take advantage of me like I earn the same as the fucking president” you complained. Until then he noticed that you were struggling to hold the papers and he decided to stretch out his hands to help you carry them, like a real gentleman "Thank you"

“Where should you take them? I'll accompany you” he offered. You led him through the halls to a file store that even he doubted he knew about, and explained that your job for the next several weeks would be to sort and categorize the case files for a more efficient process of future searches.

“I'm seriously thinking about giving this whole damn thing up and selling hotdogs in some park or whatever. I would be happier and I would earn almost the same” you joked, raising your arms to stretch your back a bit like a cat that had just woken up. The place was completely alone, silent and the lighting was so dim that it even looked gloomy “Did you get my coffees?"

"Yes, I did," he muttered, "I thought you were mad at me though”

"Why?"

"Because..." he hesitated for a moment if it would be wise to mention what he thought was the reason for your anger, until he realized that saying it out loud would simply sound absurd. There shouldn't be a reaction on your part to the facts “you weren't there. And you didn't write anything”

"Oh, I was in a hurry. I'm sorry,” you sincerely apologized. While you were talking to him you thought that you could start to categorize the documents that you would have just brought and you got to it, hoping that he wouldn't interpret that as a sign that you wanted him to leave; luckily Spencer rushed to your side to help you as soon as he could.

"Alright. I'm glad to know you're not upset."

"If I had known that you loved my notes so much, it would have taken me a few seconds" you smiled and when you turned your head you noticed that you were too close to him, or he to you, rather.

You were silent for a few moments until he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to know your opinion about what you had or hadn't seen that night.

"Victoria looked me up the other day," he said disinterestedly. You smiled victoriously for not having to be the first to mention it, even though the matter was slowly burning inside you.

“Oh, I know. I looked at you talking to her” you exclaimed bitterly, without taking your eyes off the files.

"And she too... huh..."

"Calm down" you interrupted him, taking a bunch that were already ordered and moving away from him to take them to a filing cabinet "I saw that too"

“It was so strange”

"It was pathetic," you said without any embarrassment. You finally looked up and noticed some fear in him, as if he thought you meant that he was pathetic "It wasn't even a good kiss"

"And what would one be like?" he replied without thinking. You stifled a laugh and looked at him kindly.

“That's not something I can explain to you, Reid. I would have to show you"

“Well…” he said, finally breaking away from your gaze and staring at you with those big beautiful hazel eyes.

You were surprised that he wasn't averse to it because you honestly didn't expect to achieve anything with that sentence, you just wanted to tease him a bit. Spencer kept looking at you in silence for a few seconds and you knew what that look meant, or at least you thought you did. Those pleading eyes only screamed one thing: show me. Kiss me.

You walked enough steps to close the distance and stand right in front of him, looking down at him with a smile of pure mischief.

“Well, what?"

“Nothing, nothing, I just… I thought you could enlighten me a bit on the subject. As unbelievable as it may seem, I am very uninformed about the standard of what is considered a good or bad kiss” he admitted. Even flirting he sounded like a walking book.

You weren't going to give him time to regret it so you took him by the lapels of his formal shirt and with a yank you pulled him to you. Spencer's breath caught at how sudden the contact had been, and you heard him release the trapped air over your lips, giving you the chance to deepen the kiss. At first he was tense, but after a few seconds you felt his shoulders relax considerably and that's when you slid your hands down the length of his neck until you reached to hold his cheeks. One of your hands left that position only to guide the man's hands to your waist and once you were in this way you took the opportunity to push your body against his a little more, with your torso attached to his. There was no mention of how the tip of your tongue experimentally flicked across his lips and made him sigh audibly.

Spencer nearly whimpered as the heat from your body left his.

“We just shared approximately 80 million bacteria” you blurted out, but he was too flushed and shocked to corroborate denying the information. Just to play with him you decided to give him another kiss, shorter and louder than the previous one "And you just had a good kiss"

You didn't wait for any reaction before separating completely and that made him come out of the trance he was in, still not believing what had just happened. He couldn't even say anything before your phone started ringing with a call.

"I'll see you later?"

"It's up to you," you said with a smile. Spencer nodded and not knowing what else to do he decided to walk out before he could embarrass himself "Oh, and Spence…”

"Yeah?" he answered, trying not to let you notice how it affected him that you called him that way.

“Do you remember the other day when I told you that surely hundreds of girls liked you?” you asked and when he nodded a couple of hairs got messy "Although I'm sure it's true, on that occasion I was only talking about me" you confessed. You couldn't ignore the ringing sound any longer or you'd lose it, so you picked up the hook and started a business conversation, but not before winking at him as a farewell.

Spencer came out of it trying to look as normal as possible, but he still couldn't figure out how he'd have the strength to work objectively for the rest of the day when he'd just gotten such a good kiss from the prettiest girl he'd ever met.

[stinkysam]

Buggy the Clown - So handsome.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “buggy with a reader who wears glasses ( I’ve never seen anyone write for glasses reader 😩)  maybe one day reader pulls out there glasses while trying to read something.” - anon

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

How was Buggy supposed to know you have glasses ? You never wore them ! So to him, you had great eyesight.

He just thought your heavy squinting problem was just you thinking while reading or watching something from afar.

Yet, you had glasses since you were a kid and needed to wear them all the time, which you stopped doing when you became a pirate. They got broken too easily. How many times have you had to buy a new pair just after getting the new ones again…

So you rarely wore them except when you really needed them. But so far it didn't happen much. Except for today.

Today, you had put your hands on a treasure map and couldn't read it. Every details and inscriptions were too small.

Kneeling down to read it, you patted your pocket for your glasses, finding the box quickly. You opened it and put them on and, oh, wow, suddenly everything was neat and clear. People see like this all day long without any help ? That's how you're supposed to see ? You blinked several times, getting adjusted to your new vision and focused back on the map.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here ?” Asked Buggy, approaching you from behind. “Found something interesting ?”

“A treasure map, I think…” You turned to him briefly before looking back at the piece of paper, to make sure it's indeed a treasure map as in map for berries and gold and not some kid's stash of broken dreams and hope. “Wouldn't want to find like last time, a chest full of Uta goodies and posters. We took it, but still. Gold's better. Right ?”

But Buggy had stopped listening, staring at the back of your head.

“Look at me ?” He said moving his head slightly to the side to see your face.

“What ?” You partially turned around. But you were still mainly facing the map.

“Look at me, please.”

You turned around with a frown, not understanding why he was demanding such random things.

He continued staring at you, blinking slowly.

“Whose glasses is that ?” He asks quietly. From whom did you take them…

“Me ?”

“Yes, you.” He rolled his eyes, hands on his hips.

“No, I mean, those are mine.” You said and Buggy continued to look at you. He squinted his eyes, grimacing as he leaned closer, almost nose to nose.

“Since when do you have glasses ?”

“Ferever ?” You blinked back in confusion, not realizing it was the first time he saw you with them. And for a second he wondered if his memory wasn't playing him games. Did he forget you had glasses…?

“Huh…” He looked at your face, still grimacing. What… ?

“Oh ! No ! Yeah, it's the first time I wear them in front of you, you're right.” You said with a laugh, taking them off.

“What !?”

“Yeah.”

“You wear glasses ?!” He yelled, taking them from your hands and putting them on his nose. “How blind are you !?” He asks, moving his flying hand in front of himself.

“Uh… a bit.” You laughed, trying to get them back from him. Without success.

“Wait. So you're seeing me blurry ?”

“Y- yeah ?”

“And you still chose to date me !?”

You said nothing, an awkward smile on your face.

“You only know me blurry !?”

“...It's nice to see you neatly.” You said with a grin.

Buggy grimaced dramatically, cutting himself in pieces, contracting in a random pose.

“Blurry !? I was blurry all this time !?” His hands flew to you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you.

“I fell in love with you blurry, yeah. Are you scared that neatness will change something ?”

He froze.

“It's not- is it possible ?”

“I don't know, let me check.” You said, grabbing back your glasses to put them on. You look at him and make a thinking pose. Buggy stares at you, waiting.

“...” You say nothing, letting the tension build. “You're right, it's too different. I can date you with a neat vision.” You take them off, wiping fake tears.

“Whaaat !? [Name] !” He shook you again. “What does this mean !?”

“You're too handsome.” You fake sobbed. And he froze again.

“What is wrong with you !? Saying such things !?” He said, pushing your head away, while grumbling.

“Understand me !” You continue sobbing. “I'm used to the Buggy who's pretty all blurry. How am I supposed to take I have a boyfriend who's not just pretty but handsome as fuck !”

“Stop it !” He blushed slightly.

“I should've put on my glasses sooner !” You said, eagerly putting them back on to look at him. “Such beauty, I have to look at you !”

“Stop it !” He screamed, face all red from both anger and embarrassment. “Give me the damn map instead !” And with that you stopped fake sobbing in an instant, turning around to grab what he wanted with a small smile.

“Aye.” You simply said, handing it to him, smiling proudly at how red you made him.

[megalony]

Let Him Burn

This is an Eddie Diaz requested by Anon, I hope you like it, any feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefanthefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) takes Chris to the shop for their weekly magazine, but things take a bad turn when someone starts a hostage situation and the 118 arrives to save the day.

Enjoy.

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

"Come on then, cheeky boy." Reaching into the car, (Y/n) scooped Christopher up in her arms, gave him a little spin and set him down on his feet so he could grab the crutches that were waiting for him.

She carded her fingers through his wet locks and slung her bag on her shoulder. A smile lit up (Y/n)'s face when Chris started to speed ahead into the shop. Despite just finishing hydrotherapy which was a tiring hour for him, he was still full of energy and ready to go speeding round the shop.

Every Friday after school, (Y/n) would come to the school and join Chris for his hydro session in the small pool at the back of the school. It was a small rectangle pool but they booked it out every Friday so Chris could make use of it and he could be on his own with his parents when Eddie had the afternoons free to join them. Chris loved to splash around and play with the floats and it burned the last of his energy that he had for the day.

Now it was the second routine they had on a Friday afternoon, they went to the shop ten minutes away from home. Chris would choose the same chocolate bar, the animal farm one with different pictures and inscriptions on each one. And he would get a new Dino magazine that came out weekly on a Friday. They contained new miniature figures and fun facts and he could colour and cut out and make new things.

Chris liked (Y/n) to read the facts and stories to him in the evening and then on the Saturday he would spend all morning cutting out and colouring and doing the activities.

It was one of his favourite routines.

"Chocolate," Chris beamed up at (Y/n) when she caught him up and walked into the shop with him.

(Y/n) rested her hand on his back and nodded, following him past the fruit and veg and towards the back of the shop where the sweetie aisle was.

"I think daddy deserves one too, he's done a double shift."

"Yeah!" Chris grabbed two and handed them over, it made him feel special when Eddie would have a chocolate bar with him and they knew Eddie would be home early tonight. He had been on shift since yesterday afternoon so he was supposed to be home on time for tea if all went well.

(Y/n) followed a step behind him round the corner towards the next aisle where the magazines were and right where it always was on the front row was the blue and green magazine Chris always picked. She let him grab it and he juggled it along with his crutch and they dawdled down towards the checkout.

"Why aren't you fucking listening to me? Try it again,"

Frowning, (Y/n) curled an arm around Chris's shoulders and pulled him back into her chest as she stopped walking. She didn't want to go to the checkout with Chris if that man was going to start shouting, it would unsettle her son.

She watched the lady at the desk try his card again but when it didn't work, he slammed his hand down on the counter and threw the bottle of whiskey onto the floor. The glass shattered, the alcohol splashed like droplets of rain forming a puddle and when he shouted, (Y/n) reeled back.

Chris jumped in her arms, the smile instantly dropping from his face as he brought his hands up to cover his ears, holding the magazine tightly against his left ear in his panic.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I'm not doing this shit, do it properly or I'll light this place up!"

Fear bolted through (Y/n)'s body and tingled down to her toes. The man got a lighter out of his pocket and despite how badly he was shaking, he held the lighter out as if he might either throw it on the alcohol on the floor or throw it on the lady at the checkout. He hadn't made up his mind and either prospect made (Y/n) choke.

Why today? Why did this idiot have to make a fuss today on all days? Why now when Chris was having his Friday routine did this idiot have to make a scene?

"Mummy,"

Reaching down, (Y/n) turned Chris around and let him burrow his face into her chest. He kept his hands covering his ears and (Y/n) tangled her hand into his curls to try and soothe him but she could feel him starting to tremble against her. Each time the man shouted, Chris jumped and shuddered and gasped until he finally screamed.

The scream vibrated through (Y/n)'s chest and shook her heart behind her ribs. She felt the magazine drop to the floor and Chris fought in her arms until he could flop down onto his knees and curl his chest over his legs with his arms pinned into his chest and his hands still over his ears. The crutches fell from his elbows and crashed to the floor with a clattering bang.

"Okay baby, shh, I'm here." (Y/n) went down on her knees in front of him and coiled her arms around him, trying to gently shush him but a fire lit up her eyes when she looked over at the man.

"What's he doing, what're you doing?"

"You're scaring him, what do you expect him to do?" She snapped back, unable to control her own anger. He couldn't expect the few people in the shop to be happy that he was causing a scene. "Baby come here, let's go home."

Reaching forward, (Y/n) curled her arms around Chris's chest and slowly pulled him up into her chest before she tried to stand. His legs hooked loosely around her waist and he tightly dug his arms into her neck until she could barely breathe. His breathing was laboured and harsh in the crook of her neck and he was about to start crying, she could feel it. But (Y/n) didn't get two steps before she stumbled back when the man threw a can of beer her way, narrowly missing her head.

"Stay where I can see you or I'll light this place up!"

Something inside (Y/n) told her to bolt. She could leave Chris's crutches here and the magazine and chocolate which were all on the floor. She could make a break for the exit with Chris in her arms and get in the car and go home. It wasn't worth the risk. As much as (Y/n) could run with her boy in her arms, that man was close and he could still start a fire or throw something else or hurt the cashier.

There was any number of things he could do and (Y/n) didn't want the risk, not unless it was a last resort.

But she didn't know how long Chris could stay here without having a full blown meltdown. Screaming was just the start and (Y/n) dreaded what else her son would do when panicked like this.

"Okay,"

(Y/n) nodded her head and slowly lowered herself down to her knees, still with Chris clinging to her front like a baby monkey. She gently shushed him and started to sway back and forth like when he was little and woke with nightmares. Her hand dug deep into his curls and she kissed his forehead repeatedly.

"Mummy, don't like it." His words were slurred around his thumb he was deeply biting down on, something he did when he was extremely happy or extremely unsettled.

"I know baby, we'll go home soon. I've got you," Shifting round, (Y/n) sat down on her bum, spread her legs out and kept Chris sitting on her lap. She could feel her legs beginning to burn and her lower back was starting to ache already but it didn't matter. What mattered was keeping Chris calm and safe, no matter what.

The stranger started to rant again but (Y/n) couldn't work out what he was saying, all she could hear was Chris whimpering into her neck and her heartbeat thudding rapidly in her ears.

Each can of beer the man threw made (Y/n) jerk and jump but when she watched the man throw down another bottle of whiskey just past the checkout near the window, fright took over her. He leaned down and set the alcohol alight with his lighter and jumped back to stop himself from getting lit up too.

This was bad.

With one arm still around Chris's waist and his face tucked into her neck- thankfully looking behind her so he couldn't see anything happening- (Y/n) dug around in her pocket. She fished her phone out and scrolled down to Eddie's contact. This was going to be hard.

"Ola mi amor, how are you? Did hydro go okay?" It was a relief to hear Eddie's voice after only two rings. Part of (Y/n) was afraid he would already be out on a call and wouldn't be able to answer and if she rang 911 they might think she was pranking them and hang up on her.

"Shh baby, good boy, everything will be okay." (Y/n) buried her nose and mouth into Chris's shoulder and kept her trembling hand between their merged chests. She had to have the phone close enough to speak and just about hear Eddie's voice on the other end but she couldn't let the stranger see in case it infuriated him or made him set another fire.

"(Y/n) what's wrong? Is Chris having a meltdown?" The panic was evident in Eddie's voice when his tone dropped an octave and a sterness overtook him.

"Hm,"

"Mi Amor why aren't you talking to me, is something happening?" Eddie reached his hand out and grabbed Bobby's arm, stopping him from walking past.

He'd never had (Y/n) ring him up like this before. If something was wrong she would always talk to him right away, she would rant and rave if something happened. She would panic or get upset if something was bothering her or Chris and if their son was particularly upset she would hand Chris the phone so Eddie could calm him down and talk to him. She always spoke when he answered, she wasn't giving clear answers right now and it was unnerving.

"Yes, baby."

Fear struck Eddie's heart and he pressed the phone tighter to his ear while simultaneously gripping Bobby's arm in a tighter grip.

"Where are you?" Eddie glanced at his watch strapped to his wrist and racked his brain. "Fuck, hydro's finished so… so are you at the store with Chris, for his book and chocolate?"

Eddie had all of Chris's routines memorised, each day was planned and specified because routines kept Chris happy and in order. He liked structure and if something had to change, they had to sit him down and explain what and why and make sure something else was in place for him. It made him feel calm to know what he was doing.

They had meal plans each week so Chris knew what he was eating each day, they had structures for shopping and only on a Saturday night would Chris ever try and watch a new movie. Every other day he stuck to the same Disney and cartoon movies he knew and liked.

Eddie knew by this time hydro was done and finished and they should be on their way home from the shop with his magazine and usual animal chocolate.

"Hm, yeah."

"Daddy?" Chris started to drool onto his hand and the back of (Y/n)'s shirt but she didn't care. She continued to smooth her free hand up and down his back.

"Shh, we need to stay quiet baby. We'll see daddy soon." She couldn't have Chris trying to talk to Eddie or she would have to hang up. The man couldn't know, if he knew she was calling someone, much less a firefighter, he would get manic.

"Mi amor," Eddie paused, gulped and took a shakey breath, "Are you being threatened or held hostage in the store?"

"That's right baby, we'll see daddy soon."

Bile rose in the back of Eddie's throat and he stumbled forward until Bobby held an arm out around his chest and hoisted him back up.

Oh God.

His family, his wife and son, they were being held hostage in the store. Chris had never been in a situation like this before. He had never been forced to stay somewhere or had his safety threatened. He didn't even watch movies about hostages or guns or violence, Chris wouldn't know what it meant or what was going on.

"We're coming, we'll be there soon mi amor I swear-"

"Who the fuck are you talking to? Why are you spouting shit?"

(Y/n) held the phone closer to her chest and continued to rock back and forth. This was going to give her a chance to speak a bit more freely to Eddie before she hung up. He knew what shop they always went to on a Friday, he had been part of this routine thousands of times each week. Eddie could get the team down here and help them out.

"I'm talking to my son, I told you you're frightening him."

"Stop talking-"

"Then let us leave, let me take him out of here-"

"No one's fucking leaving! This place will go up in flames if you keep testing me, bitch."

"Daddy! I want daddy. Home. Home. Home!"

Terror struck Eddie's heart when (Y/n) hung up on him. Why did he have to be on shift today? Why couldn't he of had today off and worked last Friday or next Friday instead? Anything to be there with his family right now. He could try and descale the argument and calm down the person threatening his family. He could of tried to get them out of there and keep them safe and make sure Chris wasn't going into a meltdown and (Y/n) wasn't panicked.

"(Y/n)…? (Y/n)! Fuck!!" Eddie let his weight drop onto Bobby as his vision blurred with tears and his head started to fill up with air.

They had to get down there. Now.

***

Closing her eyes, (Y/n) buried her nose in Chris's curls and tried to hum quietly in his ear but it didn't do anything to calm him down. If anything, she could feel his panic rising until he started to cry and he was itching to move in her arms. He kept his arms bound tight around (Y/n)'s neck like he was trying to strangle her but his legs kicked out against her hips and he squirmed until (Y/n) had to pin both arms around his waist as tight as she had ever done.

She couldn't have him try and fight his way out of her arms, she had to keep hold of him in case she had to make a break for it and run out of here. Chris wouldn't be able to run or hurry even with his crutches. (Y/n) had to be ready.

"Daddy. Home. Go Home!"

A tremor ran down (Y/n)'s spine when Chris slammed his hand down on her back and made her wince. He wasn't trying to hurt her, he was panicking and he didn't know what to do or how to make everything stop. He wanted his chocolate, his magazine and to be back at home without anything bad happening.

He wanted to be home with his parents, not stuck in a shop with people shouting and crying.

"Daddy's coming here to get us, he should be here soon baby," She continued to rock him back and forth despite how badly he was thrashing around in her arms.

"I want d-"

Chris shuddered and gasped in (Y/n)'s arms when the distant sound of a fire engine rattled the store and got closer. The team had gotten here, Eddie had gotten to them as fast as he could. They were going to get everyone out.

The siren continued to blaze which alerted the man that someone was going to come in and ruin whatever plan he had concocted. His violent shouts, the siren and the sudden blaring fire alarm in the store all became too much for Chris who started to scream at the top of his lungs. He chomped his teeth down on the side of his hand and smashed his forehead into (Y/n)'s shoulder as if he wanted to smother himself to make everything stop.

The action sent (Y/n) tumbling backwards into a shelf and her arms momentairely let go of Chris to cradle the back of her head.

A split second was all Chris needed to scramble out of his mum's arms and shuffle away. He felt like he had tunnel vision, all he could see was the door where he knew his dad and the team would be waiting for them. He wanted Eddie, he wanted uncle Buck and Bobby to get him and take him and his mum home. He wanted to be out of here now.

"Christopher!"

Rolling onto her stomach, (Y/n) scraped her knees on the floor to try and get to her feet and grab him when she saw the assailant bolt towards them.

There was only a split second for (Y/n) to decide what to do and in that moment, she hooked her hands under Chris's arms, hoisted him up off his feet and bolted towards the door.

"Cap I have to get in there-"

"We can't risk running in blind we don't know if he's holding them hostage, if he had a weapon or if he's hurt anyone."

"That's my family! He was threatening to light the place up!" Eddie slammed his fist into the side of the truck, relishing in the burn it ignited in his knuckles and how it caused his nerves to flare.

He had to get in that store now, he had to go in and get his family out and keep them safe, that was his job. Eddie's job was to protect people and keep them safe and if he couldn't protect his family, he shouldn't be doing this job. (Y/n) had called him, she had been desperate for help and Eddie had to do something about this situation.

"Someone's coming out," Hen dug her hand into Eddie's shoulder and pointed towards the entrance to the shop when the automatic doors opened.

"Eddie!"

His head snapped to the left in time to see his wife running out with Christopher in her arms. But right on her tail was a man with vengence in his eyes, fury on his face and his arms stretched out towards her.

Both Eddie and Buck set off into a run but their paces faltered when they watched the stranger grab a fistful of (Y/n)'s hair and yank her backwards forcefully. A strangled sound left her lips and she tilted Chris forward to give him a shove towards the team to get him safe.

The eight year old stumbled forward, tripped over his feet and went down on his knees. He pressed his palms back over his ears, screamed as loud as his lungs would allow and curved his chest down over his knees with his head pressed into his legs to hide himself away and become as small as possible. He was out, he wanted Eddie and he wanted to get in the car and go home, whatever was happening wasn't fun and he wanted it to stop.

"I got you, come here buddy." Buck reached down and scooped Chris up before he backtracked towards Chimney who was waiting uncertainly by the ambulance. He needed Chris as far away from the scene as possible and he had to check if he had any injuries.

"Get off! E-Eddie…"

(Y/n) reached behind her to try and grab the wrist that was tangled up in her hair and in a frantic panic, she waved her left arm to try and either hit him or get some leverage and add some distance between them. His hold was strong and the force he yanked her back with caused her to stumble down to her knees.

She couldn't help but scream when he slammed her head into the side of the door and tried his best to drag her back into the burning shop by her hair. Her head started to thud and everything turned and spun on its axis around her.

A pitiful howl left her lips when she felt his lighter scrape down her left arm from her elbow to her wrist and the flame licked and fizzed against her skin. She dug her nails into his face and screamed, digging her heels into the floor to try and stop him from moving her any further.

She could feel Eddie's name on the tip of her tongue until she managed to open her blurry eyes and saw him heading straight for her. She barely got to focus her vision before Eddie was lunging.

His elbow flew into the man's nose earning a successful snap and when his head shot back, Eddie grabbed his wrist and twisted it round so he dropped the lighter that had burned his wife. As swift as anything, Eddie dropped the left side of his body and pummeled his shoulder into the man's chest and took him down to the ground.

He pinned his knee down on the man's groin and curled his fingers into his palm, smashing his already bruised knuckles into the man's face causing blood to splatter across the gleaming white floor.

He wanted to keep going.

Eddie wanted to smash his fist into the man's face until the flesh tore apart and the bones were exposed. He wanted to pin him down and light up his skin like he'd just done to (Y/n) and drag him closer to the flames by the roots of his hair. Eddie wanted to frighten him and punish him and pummel him for terrorising his family like that.

His son was screaming and his wife had been attacked; Eddie wasn't going to let that lie.

"Eddie- hey, that's enough!"

"Let him burn!" Eddie's chest heaved beneath his shirt that he had been sweating through since he received (Y/n)'s phone call. His arms shook and tensed up and he fought with Hen and Bobby when they grabbed an arm each and dragged him backwards until he was level with (Y/n) who was doing her best to sit up.

They should evacuate any other people in the shop and leave him to be engulfed by the flames. He shouldn't be able to get out, he needed to sit and dwell and inhale the smoke he had started. He shouldn't get priority for anything.

"Get off," He huffed breathlessly and wrenched his arms free from their hold so he could collapse down on his knees in front of his wife.

He wasn't sure whether it was the smoke, the terror of the event or the relief of seeing his family relatively unharmed that made Eddie cry, but the tears drenched his face and he didn't bother to wipe them away.

(Y/n) curled her shaking arms around Eddie's neck and burrowed her face into his neck, hiccuping into his skin when he bound his arms around her and pulled her back into his lap. His face tucked into her hair and he closed his eyes, inhaling her scent to try and calm himself down but a storm was raging inside of him and his heart was working overtime until he was sure he was about to have a heart attack.

"Mi amor," His tone changed, became softer with a gentle edge and he nuzzled his nose into her hair so he could press multiple kisses against the side of her head.

"Eddie…" (Y/n) wasn't sure what she wanted to say, but she didn't have to say anything. She moved her shaking hand up from his neck to cup his face and bring him down for a tear stained kiss. "W-where's Chris?"

"Buck's got him, he's safe. Come here,"

Moving his hands down from her waist, Eddie cupped the back of her thighs and swiftly pulled her until her pelvis bumped into his groin. He curved her legs around his hips and kissed her again while his fingertips dug into the soft flesh of her thighs and he lifted her up with him. He stood up with (Y/n) clinging to his front and her lips glued to his jaw, something she knew would instantly calm him down.

He turned around and made his way over to the ambulance where he could see Buck. His friend was stood in front of the ambulance, a soft smile on his face and Christopher in his arms who was curled up into his chest, calmly biting his thumb.

Eddie carefully sat (Y/n) down on the edge of the ambulance and stood between her legs, feeling the heels of her feet pressing softly into his lower back just above his bum.

He reeled his arms back and reached out for (Y/n)'s left arm and gently squeezed her hand while he held her arm out in front of him for inspection. A light burn ran up the inside of her arm from her elbow down near her wrist, but it wasn't deep her extensive enough to need medical treatment. Cream and bandages would do just fine to make it blister and heal up in a week or so.

A small burn and a bash to the head was the best outcome Eddie could of asked for when he had fretted they would have smoke inhalation, loss of consciousness. He imagined bullet wounds, broken bones, third degree burns, the lot. Anything and everything ran through his mind when he thought about what could have happened with his family.

"Are you okay, buddy?" Eddie brushed his thumb across Chris's cheek when Buck gently sat him down on the ambulance next to (Y/n).

"Just a scrape on his knee, he'll be alright."

"Home," When Chris saw (Y/n) lean forward and bury her face into Eddie's chest, Chris pushed forward and wrapped his arm around his dad's leg. He pressed his chin into Eddie's thigh and tilted his head up so he could look up at him.

He wanted to go home now. He wanted Eddie to take them home and for this day to be over.

"Yeah, I'm gonna take you both home now."

[bitchinbarzal]

Sunday | M Barzal

summary: sunday is your favourite.

-

Sundays were soft.

Sundays were spent at absolute bagels to get the exact order you had got every week.

Sundays were spent holding Mat’s hand while he whispered sweet words to you.

Sundays were spent in Central Park, eating bagels with the love of your life.

You loved Sundays, you loved them more with Mat.

The sun was warmer than it had been in previous weeks, early March was showing a glimpse of what spring in New York had in store.

Mat needed this, you knew that. It was getting closer to the seasons end and the islanders weren’t in a position to clinch yet.

Mat knew he had to put the effort into this team, he didn’t want to let them down.

“You know we didn’t have to do this today, I know the guys are doing a voluntary practice” you mumble, pressing a kiss to mat’s shoulder.

He smiled softly “And miss Sunday in the park with my girl? Absolutely not!”

You laughed “Another Sunday to convince you my bagel is the best…”

Mat rolls his eyes, poking at the breakfast sandwich in your hand “No! It’s not! This-“

He holds his bagel up

“This is the best!”

“I’m just glad they don’t do the Barz-agel this side of the river”

“Hey listen your boyfriend is so famous he has a bagel named after him, you’re a lucky woman”

“Har-har” you muttered, biting into your bagel “The best!”

Mat rolled his eyes again, just smiling this time at the way you smirked still with food in your mouth. Even now, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

Your bagels were finished, with one more argument about whose order was best you took his wrapper and headed towards the closest trash can.

On route back to where he was standing you stopped

“Oh my god, mat have you ever noticed this?!” You screeched.

Mat frowned, walking over to see what you were looking at.

The two of you stared at the golden plaque on the park bench, leaning closer to read the inscription

“Oh that’s so cute! To my beloved Sammy… Mat they were in love” you exclaimed, watching him walk to the next bench along to read that inscription.

“This one says ‘they love this walk, this park but most of all each other” he read and you pout

“That’s so sweet! Can you imagine someone buying you a bench? I wonder how much it costs..” you wonder aloud, pulling out your phone to google it.

The two of you start walking again while you google “Ten grand! Holy shit!”

Mat laughs softly at your tone “Maybe if you’re really nice to me I’ll buy you one”

“Hmm does that mean I have to agree with your bagel choice?”

His eyes brows raise “Well now you’ve mentioned it…”

You smirk, pulling on his hand “Buy me a bench and we can talk!”

“Daddy come on!” Mat chased after the little girl through the park

“Woah slow down princess you’re gonna get lost!”

She turns to look at him with that cheeky grin “Not if you catch up”

He rolls his eyes as her sass “What are you even running for?”

“Look! The seats have words!” She exclaims, pointing to the park benches golden plaque.

Mat crouches down beside her, on her level “yeah? What do they say?”

He watched as she narrowed her eyes, standing closer to be able to read it “that one says a dirty word!”

She Saunders along the benches, reading them all one by one.

She stops abruptly and gasps “Daddy! This one has your name on it!”

Mathew smiles softly, walking to where she is “Yeah?”

“Yeah.. look! It says I love Sunday with you - Hey! That’s my name!”

Mat smiles, kissing the side of her head “It sure does babygirl”

She cocks her head to the side “Daddy read it for me, please?”

“It says, Y/N I love Sundays with you forever, Mat”

She looks at her dad, matching the sad look on his face

“Hey daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that mommy’s bench?”

“It is, that’s mommy’s bench” He nods, squeezing her hand.

“Can I sit? Be with mommy?” She points to the seat with sad eyes.

He nods “Let’s sit together baby, we’ll eat our bagels” shaking the bag.

Sunday smiles “mommy’s bagels!”

Mat rolls his eyes “My girls and their bad bagel choices…” pulling her up under his arm while she delved into the bag of breakfast food.

With the bagel in hand she looks at mat sadly “Daddy… I wish mommy was here”

“Yeah me too babygirl, me too”

Sundays were soft.

Sundays were spent holding Mat’s hand while he whispered sweet words to you.

Sundays were spent in Central Park, eating bagels with the love of your life.

Sunday was the only thing Mat had left of you.

[judeswhore]

one love token; spencer reid

summary: spencer is more than happy about his not so innocent valentine’s day gift

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

requested: no but it’s vday :)

warnings: smallest hint at smut

notes: you can find my masterlist here

spencer was confused.

the pink envelope half hidden beneath his keyboard had drawn his attention the second he'd sat down, his hands pushing paperwork out of the way to set his fresh cup of coffee on the desk. when he tugged it free his eyes caught his own name, written in neat block letters with a tiny red heart acting as a full stop. the bullpen was quiet and almost empty, no sign of his usual co workers or his girlfriend, the only person he could think of that would leave him a valentine's day card. only, the two of you had already swapped cards and gifts that morning, still tangled beneath his warm sheets, the small strip of light peaking through the gap in his curtains the only thing allowing him to see the inscription you'd made on the first page of the new book you'd gotten him.

thumbing at the corner of the envelope, spencer wondered briefly if it was a prank, another one of morgan's terrible jokes that would have the scoreboard evening out. but when he flipped the paper over to see the back he was hit with the faintest smell of flowers, a scent he was extra familiar with and knew one hundred percent didn't belong to morgan. it was the soft floral scent that clung to all your clothes, that stuck to his bedsheets and his shirts long after you'd gone, a scent that spencer had decided was most definitely his favourite in the world. the groove of confusion between his eyebrows got deeper because why would you leave a second card at his desk?

he shook his head and peeled the envelope open, leaning back in his chair to pull the card free, a huff slipping past his lips when a smaller piece of paper fluttered to the floor by his feet. he didn't even look at the card at first, just set it in his lap so he could reach for the bit of paper, gripping it with two fingers before bringing it up to read. just like the envelope it was pink, clearly torn from one of your notepads and obviously hand written in your neatest print.

you'd drawn a heart in the middle, red like the one on the front, and had written the words 'ONE LOVE TOKEN' in bold inside the empty space, in smaller letters beneath 'valid until february 15th'. spencer's mouth tipped into a confused smile, and he flipped the paper to see if there was anything on the back. when he realised that side was blank he turned his attention down to the card in his lap, a surprised snort of laughter getting caught at the back of his throat.

he could feel the tips of his ears burning, his hands shifting so he could cover the design on the front of the card, more than aware of the fact morgan was lurking somewhere in the office and if he caught sight of the image spencer was sure to never hear the end of it. he tried not to look too flustered, brushed his fingers through his hair in an attempt to stop the curls sticking to his forehead. this card was considerably more inappropriate than the one you’d gifted him that morning, far too dirty to be on display at his desk and for a second he worried about what was inside.

the front of the card contained a single glazed donut sporting a smiley face and printed above in large unmistakable letters were words that spencer never thought he’d see. they were also words he never thought would cause a stir deep inside of him. ‘i want you to glaze my hole’ was the exact phrase and despite the laughter bubbling in his throat, he couldn’t stop the film reel that had started in his head, image after image of you flickering each time he blinked. clearing his throat he tugged a little at the knot of his tie, shifted in his seat and once again let his gaze do a sweep of the bullpen, eager to find you and discuss why you were trying to kill him.

it was as if you’d appeared out of nowhere, he was certain you hadn’t been standing in the kitchenette a few moments earlier, back pressed to the counter, a mug of what he knew was hot chocolate nursed between your hands. jj was at your side, talking excitedly, swiping through her phone but you weren’t paying attention. no. your whole focus was on spencer and he watched your lips form a teasing smile, your eyes darting between his and the card in his hand.

“open it.” you mouthed the words, nodded your head at the card and lowered your mouth to the rim of your mug to hide the ever growing smile and he narrowed his eyes. he knew the inside of the card was bound to be just as dirty as the outside and he hated that you were so eager to see him flustered and fumble in the middle of the office. he glanced around, noted that penelope was inside hotch’s office, case file in hand and knew it was only moments before his boss was gathering everyone up.

spencer looked back at you and rolled his eyes at your impatient shooing motion, your eyebrows rising as though to tell him to get a move on. he set it down on his desk, at an angle that made sure no one could really see and flipped it open, eyes immediately tracking the bright red lipstick mark beside his name. it was your lipstick of course, the shade he’d told you so many times was his favourite, the shade that was always guaranteed to leave stains on his neck, around his thumb, the base of his cock. the exact shade you just so happened to be wearing today.

he squirmed again in his seat at the flood of memories, tried to will his cheeks to stop burning, a familiar ache settling inside of him. fingers tugged his tie even looser, his mind uncaring at that moment that he was going to look more than a little disheveled when he got to the conference room. the lipstick wasn’t the only message on the inside, you’d written another little note highlighted by tiny hearts.

ONE LOVE TOKEN FOR THE BEST BLOWJOB OF YOUR LIFE, ANYTIME, ANYWHERE

so that was what the tiny slip of paper was for. at this point his entire neck and face had turned pink, hot to touch and his heart jumped when he lifted his gaze back to yours and you sent him that knee weakening innocent smile. your eye dropped in a wink and he let out a laugh, a breathless sort of sound that had you grinning ear to ear. closing the card he pushed it back beneath his keyboard, not exactly eager for someone to see, and tucked the handmade token into the pocket of his suit jacket before pushing out of his chair. he was headed towards you, a string of reprimands sitting on the tip of his tongue, followed by a couple of commands that he hoped would have you following him to an unused storage closet.

but cupid wasn’t on his side apparently. he was halfway across the floor when hotch’s appeared at the stairs. “we’ve got a case,” a pause. “florida.” spencer’s face twisted into a grimace that matched yours, turned and headed towards the round table, more than aware of the flush still on his skin and your eyes on his back, the token burning hot in his pocket.

he took his usual seat, watched rossi fall into the chair to his left and waited until you settled to his right, your foot knocking playfully into his ankle as a silent hello. your relationship was no secret to the rest of the team, it had been humiliating having to announce it to hotch, having to somewhat ask for permission to be together and even more humiliating to have the team find out because you’d been caught kissing in the car park. everything had worked out and as long as you remained professional, there were no issues but sometimes spencer found it difficult sitting beside you, your perfume making his chest fuzzy, and not being able to touch you, even in the smallest of ways. he settled for nudging you back with the toe of his shoe.

“you like your card?” you didn’t even look at him, kept your gaze on the case file, fingers flipping through the papers but he caught the small quirk of your mouth. your tongue swiped over your bottom lip and brought his attention down, his pulse spiking just slightly and his gaze narrowed. 

reaching into his pocket he pulled his token out, slid it across the table and placed it right in your line of sight before leaning across to you. his lips brushed the shell of your ear, innocent to everyone else but intimate enough to you to draw a shiver up your spine. 

he tapped once on the slip of paper and his next words left no room for argument. “i wanna cash in on this before we leave. bathroom as soon as we’re finished here.”

[clarareberosen]

In the bar.

Some girl: Hey, cutie, do you want to spend the evening with me?

Tech: Have you forgotten how to read? *The inscription on the T-shirt "I have a girlfriend with whom I am happy"*

Girl: I don't see her.

Phee: Turn around and not only will you see her, but you will regret that you decided to ignore this inscription.

Later:

Phee: Once again, why aren't you wearing this T-shirt? * The inscription "I am a married man" *

Tech: I decided that it does not reflect our relationship to the end. If I ever get a T-shirt that says "I'm married and happy with my hot wife in this marriage, so don't dream of winning me over," I'll wear it.

Phee:...

Phee: Have I told you that I love you?

[johnwickb1tsch]

you’re the worst thing (i’m addicted to)

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here...

Part 1.

“Hey, Hels.”

There is no answer, only the warbling of a bird in a distant tree. The day is bright and blue, spring has come again in all her glory. It doesn’t seem right, somehow, that the sun should still shine, and the birds should still sing.

Because she is gone.

It’s been two years, but you still haven’t really wrapped your head around it.

You still have your last text message thread with her in your phone. It’s as though you could just punch a few buttons and still talk to her. Always, she would answer you, no matter what she was doing. Sometimes you want to type in I miss you and hit send, just to see what might happen.

But then, maybe it is appropriate, that today should be such a beautiful day. On this day, forty-two years ago, your sister was born. Roughly ten years later, you followed. As a direct result, your mother died of complications in childbirth.

Your father still blamed you, but Helen never did.

In a way, Helen was your mother, more than the woman who bore you.

It makes it all hurt so much more.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

You look down at the stone, this massive granite behemoth. You find it rather ugly, to be honest, but it will certainly stand the test of time, nuclear war notwithstanding. Loving Wife, reads the epitaph below.

You know it was true.

You know that perhaps John Wick is the only person Helen loved more than you. But the inscription still seems too brief. Short changing her, somehow. 

But then, John paid for the stone, so you suppose he got to pick what it said. 

You were ensuring her memory lived on in other ways. 

“I finally did as you asked,” you tell her. “I’ve used the photos you left me in a painting. We're going to be in a show together. I wish you were here to see it.”

There is a mean part of you that suspects your submission was only accepted because it contained work from the late, great, photographer Helen Morgan-Wick, but you shove that down into the seething pit with all the rest of your fears and doubts. You didn't use them for the attention. You did it to feel close to her, and because she asked you to. One final art project, the note had said. She knew you too well, knew that the only thing that kept you from toeing the line of the abyss was a good artistic obsession.

You knew she’d planned to leave a project for John too. A puppy, she’d said. You’d shared a laugh over it, through tears, the last time you’d been together. You never found out how that had gone. John hadn’t attended a family gathering since Helen passed.

Too painful.

You didn’t blame him one bit. 

“I miss you, Hels. I feel so lost without you.”

“Amen.”

The sound of another voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You turn to find him, in one of his signature tailored black suits, looking unfairly scrumptious despite the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't made a sound in his approach. He never did. The man moved like a ghost and looked like a dark dream. You'd always found him insanely attractive.

You'd never done anything about that, of course. But goddamn, you had eyes.

“Hi, John.”

“Hello, y/n.”

You’ve never run into him at the gravesite before, though you have seen the wilted offerings of daisies left by the stone, and you always had assumed they’d come from him. You haven’t seen him since Helen’s funeral. He hasn’t changed much, really, though there is a sharpness to his aspect you’d never noticed when Helen was alive. An edge to his gaze; how can eyes so dark convey so much? Despite yourself, it sends a little thrill down your spine that you absolutely know you should not revel in.  

Maybe you haven’t seen him in person after Helen passed, but you’ve gazed at him plenty through Helen’s lens. There had been so many photographs of him in the collection of prints she’d left you. Nothing risqué, but the way he’d looked at her even through the camera had been nothing less than intimate.

There were times, late at night in your studio, when you’d pretended he’d been looking at you that way.

“How…have you been?” 

He offers a grim shadow of a smile and a shake of his head that you understand all too well. 

“Nice to be with someone you don't have to pretend with.”

“Yeah.”

You both stare down at the grave, meditating on your loss of this woman who touched you both so completely.

“Do you think she can hear us?” you ask, unable to lift your voice above a whisper.

There is a long pause from her widower, the man she left behind.

“Not really.” He lifts his face to the sun, eyes closed, as though maybe he can feel something of her presence. “But you should talk to her anyway. I might be wrong.”

You smile at that.

“Do you ever talk to her?”

“All the time,” he admits with a huff of self-deprecating laughter. “But then, I might just be losing my mind.”

“Ah well. That makes two of us then.”

You gently lay down the bouquet of Gerber daisies you'd brought for her. Helen’s favorite. If you ever have a garden, you will plant some for her. As it is, you have to buy them from the store. You remember the patch of daisies she’d cultivated in the garden of your childhood home. Their cheerful faces and soft petals. They had been your mother’s favorite too. When you were a girl Helen would sing to you and braid them in your thick hair. You couldn’t know at the time, how precious those perfect days had been.

The wave of sorrow hits you like a freight train, the weight of your loss a crushing force. You start to cry, hiding your face in your hands; you would prefer to do this alone, but you cannot stop it.

You feel an arm about your shoulders. It surprises you—John was never a touchy-feely man, never one for hugs, always preferring a wave or a handshake. Only for Helen, did he ever display any sort of affection. They had always been touching, holding hands or sitting hip to hip on the couch, his strong arm slung protectively around her shoulders. You didn’t want to say you’d been envious of that, but…perhaps you’d wondered, what it might be like, to be so cherished.

When he pulls you against him you only manage some token resistance. “I’ll mess up your suit.” You sound pitiful, even to you.

“I have an excellent dry cleaner.”

His dry wit had always amused you. This time, it breaks you, and you give in. He is solid as an oak, and as it turns out, his chest is an excellent place to cry on. Under the shelter of his chin you wring yourself dry, until it feels like you have nothing left inside you. His large hand rests lightly upon the back of your head, shielding you from the world. He is warm, and his cologne is subtle but heavenly. Sandalwood, maybe, and something spiced. Cardamom, perhaps. A hint of pepper.

You don’t particularly want to move, even though you absolutely should. Yet his hold on you has not loosened, and you tell yourself that maybe John Wick needed a hug just as badly as you did.

“People keep telling me that it gets easier, and I just want to punch them in the face,” you sniffle.

A huff of laughter escapes him. You feel it stir your hair on the top of your head. “Yeah. I get that.”

Finally you pull back, though not as far as you should. You’ve never actually been this close to him before, and you look at each other from a foot away. Sometimes proximity can shatter the illusion of someone’s attractiveness—but not this man. The impossible angle of his cheekbones, the soft scruff of his beard…is it just you, or does the edge in his gaze soften a little, when he looks at you? It makes your legs a little weak, and you kind of hate yourself for it.

It has nothing to do with you, stupid, you tell yourself. Where you and Helen weren’t exactly twins, you did resemble each other strongly. In profile, you’d been mistaken for her in public plenty of times before. If anything, it was probably unnerving for this poor man who missed his wife so much, to hold you, a sorry facsimile, in his arms. Out of pity, most likely.  

Helen had been the good sister. The upstanding one, the kind one. You? You can be such a twisted little thing.

“Sorry,” you sigh, noticing the smudge of makeup on his lapel.

He doesn’t even glance down, that intense gaze still fixed upon you. “Don’t be.”

Unbidden heat blooms from your cheeks to your toes, finding yourself the subject of that gaze. You’ve got to go, before you really embarrass yourself.

“I'll leave you alone. It was nice to see you, John.”

You turn to go, hugging yourself against the early spring chill. Why did you have to feel so bereft, without his arms around you? You take a few steps before he calls after you, “Y/n?”

You freeze in your tracks, a thrill jetting down your spine. “Yeah?” you dare, turning to half look over your shoulder.

“I…was thinking about going to Helen’s favorite restaurant tonight. Would you like to join me?”

Your heart beats double time in your chest, as you slowly turn to face him. You should say no. There’s a thousand reasons you should say no. This was your sister’s husband. It doesn’t matter that he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, and that he’s been kind to you, and that he’s looking at you like he might drown if you say no.

“I would like that,” you answer, and your heartbeat thundering in your ears sounds like the hammering of nails into your own coffin.

Part 2

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐧 [𝐁𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐡𝐮]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairings: yandere!Baizhu x fem!reader

Warnings: !dark content!, Zhongli's cameo, amnesia, references to somnophilia, murder and captivity.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. UNSECRET, MØØNWATER - Only The Beginning

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

God, i've been writing this for two days, almost without getting up from my chair, and now i feel like a crumbling old grandfather. I am surprised that so far the biggest work in my arsenal has been written about Baizhu, because even though i love him, he's not my favorite man, but… I love him so damn much in the image of yandere. Slippery, cunning, secretive, obsessive Baizhu is so disgustingly beautiful that i'm just not going to say another word and just let you enjoy it on your own.

This work has a more complete NSFW version, but about it… Information will be available later (>ᴗ•)

July 18th

Bright sunlight, marking the beginning of a new day, persistently seeps through heavy eyelids, inevitably squinting when consciousness gradually returns to you after a deep sleep. It stings so unpleasantly, and you turn away from the source of the rays, which cruelly outrages your eyes. The embrace of sleep doesn't lose hope of keeping you at least a moment longer in its warmth, but for some reason the heart in your chest shudders restlessly, forcing you to explode from the soft pillow.

A slight shortness of breath, and the eyes open abruptly. You're clutching the blanket convulsively in your hands.

This place…

Your gaze glides anxiously around the bright, cozy room. The curtains barely move audibly from the breeze of summer, unceremoniously slipping through a small crack in the window. For a second, you look at your own palms, twitching convulsively, as does the frightened muscle in your chest, pumping blood furiously through your veins, before the bedside table comes into your field of vision. Freshly cut qingxin flowers in an exquisite vase, in front of which there is a small mug, to which you curiously but cautiously extend your hand. The liquid has a slight greenish tint and the pungent aroma of herbs instantly cuts into your nostrils.

But there was something else.…

You turn your head anxiously to the bedside table again, now hesitantly picking up a folded piece of paper on which «Read it when you wake up» was carefully written in a beautiful neat handwriting. Whoever left it… It doesn't look like anything threatening, so you slowly unfold the sheet, starting to read a couple of lines written in the same perfect handwriting as the inscription on the outside of the note.

«If you're reading this, then you've already woken up. I'm sorry I couldn't spend the morning with you properly.

You probably have a lot of questions. I'll definitely explain everything in more detail when I get home, but for now, just read the information that you will need to come to your senses.

Your name is Y/N. Unfortunately, by the cruel design of fate, you were destined to be tested by a disease that I, your husband, tirelessly struggle with day by day. Believe me, one day everything will change and I will no longer need to tell you everything that I'll write next, over and over again every morning. But it's not a burden to me, my love, don't worry about it.

As soon as you fall asleep every night, your memories are erased in the morning, so you probably don't remember me or the house you ended up in.

This is our house, Y/N. We have been married for ten wonderful years now, and my love for you will never fade, no matter how many trials life throws at us.

You can warm up your breakfast, I left your portion in the fridge. If you need anything else, I've left hints on all the things you use every day. You can also walk to Liyue Harbor and visit me at work if you wish. I left a map for you in the hallway, with which you can safely get to the city, as you have done more than once. I understand if you don't want to see me before I get home, but I'll be very happy to see you anytime.

Please drink the decoction that you are probably holding in your hand right now. Although this medicine will not help to overcome your illness, it will make it easier to survive the stress of the information you have just read.

You have nothing to fear, Y/N. You're safe in our house.

See you soon, my love.»

The edge of the paper crumples in your hand when you unconsciously clench your fingers into a fist, trying to control the tremor running under your skin. Your gaze moves from the sheet to the mug with the cloudy liquid, and you instantly empty the glass, squinting and writhing from the bitter taste.

After putting the dishes back in place, you tentatively pull back the blanket, noticing that you are wearing a light nightgown, pulled up on your trembling hips, apparently from the way you tossed and turned, not wanting to wake up.

Emptiness. Not a single thought as you slowly lower your feet to the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed. There are too many thoughts, but you can't grasp any of them, being in a kind of trance in which your gaze glides over such a damn familiar, but completely strange house. You notice a lot of things, photos of you and some man, feeling that it all belongs to you, but for some reason… Wrong. This is all wrong.

You squint, pressing your palms to your face in resignation, before finally finding the strength to get up and go to the kitchen. Your legs seem to remember this short road, but your eyes refuse to believe that you've seen this place before. It is bright and spacious. In the middle of the room there is a small table designed for two, as evidenced by two chairs standing side by side. There is a light herbal aroma in the air, which permeates the walls of this house, but it is muffled by the sweet smell of baking. Apparently, that man… Your husband left home not so long ago.

How strange it is to call a husband someone whose name you can't even remember, although it's on your tongue, but all attempts to pronounce it are in vain.

«It's probably… a side effect…»

«You… don't remember me…?»

«It's for the best…»

You grab your head convulsively when other people's words, uttered in a painfully familiar voice, are introduced into your thoughts. The memories aren't as old, but they're not as fresh as you think.

«We will always be together»

Is that… is that your husband's voice?

You freeze for a moment, realizing something even more frightening than the fact that you can't remember anything. If everything that a man you don't know wrote in a letter is true, then how does he live with it? After all, you can barely remember what your face looks like, so now you slowly wander into the bathroom, and he tolerates every day that his loved one does not recognize him? He must really love you if that's the case.

You look uncertainly at your own reflection. Disheveled hair, tired look, lost look, crumpled shirt sliding off one shoulder. Even from the outside, you look like a real madwoman, although inwardly you feel that this is not the case at all.

The pleasant cool water calms down a little the alarming heat raging in your trembling body when you wash your face and then brush your teeth with a brush carefully signed with your name. While you were walking around the house, even out of the corner of your eye it was difficult not to notice how every thing that could potentially be useful to you was also signed with your name, and your heart shrinks in your chest from the mere thought that in the world there could exist a person of such bright and pure kindness of soul who is able to do everything This is for someone who barely even recognizes his face. It's probably the letter he left for you this morning.… He does this every day, right?

And so your whole day went by.

You wandered thoughtlessly around the house, checking every drawer and every corner in a vain attempt to awaken dormant memories in you or at least make your heart skip a beat from something other than an indescribable feeling of guilt. Your clothes, jewelry, dishes, men's things, books, jars of herbs, even a tidy sum of money lying in one of the drawers — nothing seemed familiar enough to you to remember anything.

And you didn't even notice how the sun had long disappeared behind the high mountains of the Geo Archon's lands, and the door of "your" house quietly opened. You were enthusiastically looking at the photos found in one of the many boxes lying in the attic when you heard unhurried footsteps coming from the kitchen before the man stopped at the bedroom door, causing you to turn around in fright.

— Oh, I'm sorry, Y/N, I didn't mean to scare you.

You're clutching a stack of photos so tightly, clutching them to your chest, as if it's the most valuable treasure you didn't even know existed. But now the glossy pieces of paper slip out of your hands as soon as your eyes meet the gaze of the man towering over you.

— Y-you are… — you stutter, looking away in confusion and suddenly stopping at one of the photos now lying on the floor. — My husband?

The man smiles softly. His golden, surprisingly snake-like eyes follow your gaze before he sits down opposite you. You can't help but take a closer look now in person at these long green curls, braided into a braid, probably incredibly soft and smooth to the touch when a man bends down, carefully picking up photos from the floor and collecting them in his hand.

— You always take them out when you're alone, — he smiles, giving you a gentle look from under the half-lowered glasses on the bridge of his nose. — And I'm also very disappointed that you didn't eat your breakfast after all.

— I just… — you mumble softly, but even those clumsy words melt on your tongue when you feel a man's long, elegant fingers wrap around your wrist, lifting your hand and turning your palm with the back of it to your face.

— This is the answer to your question, — the man raises his own hand, and you look at it in confusion, suddenly noticing the ring on your ring finger. And how did you not notice that before? Probably expensive gold and a small emerald, sparkling even in the dark, and on his hand… The same ring, but with a ruby. — I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten to sign my letter with my name, as I usually do. Huh, maybe I just still have a glimmer of hope that one day you'll wake up and I won't have to get to know you again...

You notice how the man's amber eyes fill with sadness, but the corners of his lips are still stretched in a smile when he suddenly chuckles softly, interlacing the fingers of his free hand with yours, which he still holds in the canopy.

— But it's kind of cute, isn't it? I can meet you again and again, as for the first time, and hope that you will be able to love me again, — you finally feel your heart clench in your chest when he brings your clasped hands to his cheek. But it's not… it's not love. — My name is Baizhu, honey.

— Baizhu… — you repeat, as if deep in thought, but the man suddenly rises from the floor, still not letting go of your hand, slightly pulling you back and forcing you to retreat from another desperate struggle with your own memory.

— Don't overexert yourself, Y/N. You haven't eaten anything, let's go.

You feel like you should just let him take you to the kitchen, which you do, but for some reason you feel so damn uncomfortable around Baizhu. Those photos, his words, his look… Everything says that you probably love this man, since you even married him, but then why are you so worried?

You sit down at the table, carefully watching as an elegant man with perfect posture takes something from the refrigerator and hastily cuts it on a board before sending it to a heated frying pan. It smells delicious… Vegetables and some meat, as you think.

After a few minutes of waiting, a plate of warm snow-white rice appears on the table in front of you and a small portion of pieces of beef, carrots, pepper and sauce, which creates such an appetizing aroma that makes your stomach turn.

— I wanted to cook fish, but I decided that you should eat your favorite dish today.

— Hey! Are you going to pretend that I'm not here?

You scream when an unfamiliar high-pitched voice is heard behind you, and Baizhu just sighs resignedly, placing his palm on top of yours when you almost drop the chopsticks from your hand.

— Changsheng, could you not scare Y/N? — you don't understand with whom your husband is talking to, so you turn around hesitantly, noticing a squinting white snake on a small pillow, looking directly at you. — Y/N, please, don't be scared. This is Changsheng — she's not dangerous. She is… Our friend.

— Since when am I considered a friend of this little girl? I'm just an observer, girl, keep eating your dinner while I'm starving.

— Well, well, hush, — Baizhu suddenly gets up from the table just to get some treats for, it seems, your pet?..

— Why is she talking?! — you still find the strength to get out of your stupor and finally ask the man with his back turned to you.

— Oh, it's a long story, I'm afraid if I start telling it now, we'll go to bed too late, — Baizhu chuckles softly, leaving Changsheng alone with her food before returning to your table.

— Then you could tell me about it… Tomorrow?

«Tomorrow, right?»

You suddenly felt your stomach churn with fear. What's going to happen tomorrow anyway? Will you remember this conversation? Does it even matter what you say or do now if everything starts from scratch tomorrow?

— Of course, — your husband doesn't seem to be at all concerned about how your face is twisted by unpleasant emotions that have flooded into your scattered consciousness. You notice how he calmly starts his dinner, still smiling softly and bringing a piece of meat to his mouth before it disappears between his lips.

— Tell me… Baizhu, how long has this been going on?

You look at your portion, feeling that this food will surely satisfy your hunger, but for some reason your hands flatly refuse to take the chopsticks off the table again.

— Eat, Y/N, — your eyes meet. Baizhu looks at you with unreadable emotion. For sure, this is just a difficult topic for him.

Of course… After all, you'll forget everything that just happened, and he lives with it day by day, falling asleep again and again with the thought that once you wake up, he will be met with a frightened look again. You won't hug him, you won't kiss him, you won't tell him you love him.

You don't know who is he.

You didn't even notice the tears rolling down your cheeks until one of them dripped into your plate of food. It's all so damn unfair. Why do you feel such suffocating guilt, but at the same time you so irresistibly want to escape from here? Why do you want to run away from your own home, from your husband? It's all… too much.

— Oh dear,— Baizhu sighs. It seemed to him that it was not the first time he saw your tears, as if he even knows why you are crying, so he calmly puts down his chopsticks, reaching across a small table to brush a strand of hair from your face behind your ear and touch your reddened cheek. — I know it's hard for you. I promise, everything will change soon.

You look at Baizhu's blurred face in front of your tear-stained eyes, but you can't stop the tears even when you feel the thrill of his thumb caressing your skin.

«Is it hard for me? And you…»

— N-no, I'm sorry… I don't know what came over me, — you sob, trying to calm both yourself and your husband. You wanted to take his hand away from your face, but you let it linger a little longer on your cheek before Baizhu finally pulls away, instead picking up his chopsticks again and pinching a piece of meat from your plate between them.

— Eat, Y/N. You'll feel better, — his honey-colored voice sounds so gentle and affectionate when he speaks to you, bringing a thin slice of meat to your lips.

The smell is so inviting that you unconsciously open your mouth while the man gently puts the meat on your tongue.

— Ha-ha, you're a terrible in cook!

— Really? Then why are you eating my cooking with both cheeks, you rascal?

— Okay, okay, it's really delicious! Maybe it will even become my favorite dish, what do you say?

— Oh, you flatter me...

What kind of voice is that?.. This is not Baizhu.

The homely delicious taste on your tongue suddenly awakened fragments of memories, from which warmth spread in your chest. You remember the male figure so vaguely… his face is blurred, but you feel that your place is next to him. You want so much to grab onto this meager memory, but it slips away from you as quickly as it surfaced in your mind.

Baizhu notices you freeze for a few seconds before finally swallowing your food, and his snake eyes squint at you.

— Is something wrong? Did you remember anything?

— I… — you blunt your gaze down, suddenly feeling awkward. — No, nothing like that. It's just very tasty.

Why did you lie?

✧ ✧ ✧

July 19th

Annoying sunlight, the smell of fresh flowers, an unfamiliar room. And once again, you burst out of bed, clutching the blanket in your fists in fright, before you see the note lying on the bedside table.

«Read it when you wake up»

«If you're reading this, then you've already woken up. I'm sorry that I couldn't spend the morning with you properly again.

You probably have a lot of questions. I will definitely explain everything in more detail when I get home, but for now, just read the information that you will need to come to your senses.

Your name is Y/N. Unfortunately, by the cruel design of fate, you were destined to be tested by a disease that I, your husband, tirelessly struggle with day by day. Believe me, one day everything will change and I will no longer need to tell you everything that I will write next, over and over again every morning. But it's not a burden to me, my love, don't worry about it.

As soon as you fall asleep every night, your memories are erased in the morning, so you probably don't remember me or the house you ended up in.

This is our house, Y/N. We have been married for ten wonderful years now, and my love for you will never fade, no matter how many trials life throws at us.

Please eat the breakfast that I left on the table for you and drink the decoction that you are probably holding in your hand right now. Although this medicine will not help to overcome your illness, it will make it easier to survive the stress of the information you have just read.

You have nothing to fear, Y/N. You're safe in our house.

See you soon, my love.

Your Baizhu.»

When you enter the kitchen uncertainly, there is such a damn familiar smell in the air… meat and vegetables. For some reason, the phantom taste of this dish settles on your tongue and causes an inexplicable feeling of simultaneous calm and anxiety. It's probably what you ate yesterday, but then why are you so uncomfortable?..

Did something happen yesterday, or is it just a figment of your imagination?

Anyway, you notice a plate of pancakes still warm, and you look around the kitchen for a mug to make yourself some tea.

«Baizhu…»

You mentally repeat this name over and over again, trying to get it into your head that this is your husband's name. How could you forget such an important person in your life?

— Delicious… — swallowing the most delicate airy dough, you put down your fork and wrap your arms around your shoulders.

Your gaze turns to the street. The sun is shining brightly over Liyue, which didn't allow you to soak up in bed in blissful ignorance for another couple of hours. Will everything be fine if you go out for a walk? Baizhu… Your husband didn't leave any instructions on this topic. After all, you don't remember anything, but you're quite able to walk, so why are you procrastinating?

Hastily washing the dishes and leaving a clean plate with a mug by the sink, you went in search of clothes. Probably all the women's clothes in the closets of this house belong to you, although you do not remember buying at least one of them. Light dresses, a pair of traditional outfits, several pairs of shoes. There is no hint of what you are doing in this life at all. Do you really just live here and… that's it?

You look at several dresses incredulously, trying to imagine how they will fit you, but then you still choose what is more authentic, and turn to the mirror, taking in your figure with a glance. At least now you look less like a local lunatic than when you woke up in the morning.

When you got to the door, you suddenly noticed a small piece of paper lying on the shelf. The sheet doesn't look new like the one you found by your bed. As if this note has been lying here for a long time and it has already been read more than once.

Unable to overcome your own curiosity, you still sigh and take the folded piece of paper. For just a moment, you're tormented by the thought that this might belong to your husband, and you don't want to violate his personal space, but what the hell?

Unfolding the piece of paper, your eyes widened in surprise for a second before squinting at the drawings on the paper. It looks like a small map with small neat captions that indicated in the drawing, probably the house where you are now, and a certain place called the Bubu Pharmacy, under which it is indicated that your husband works there. Ah, now everything falls into place.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Baizhu probably left this piece of paper just in case you want to take a walk. How sweet and thoughtful of him to worry about you not getting lost, and yet… It's a little unnerving for some reason.

Anyway, you folded the paper back up and put it in the pocket of the only bag you could find in the closet. Although you're sure you're not out of your mind enough to forget the way back, it's better to be safe, right?

When you emerged, you carefully closed the door with the key that your husband had left in the hallway. Fresh air… You take a deep breath, as if you've been locked up for ages, finally feeling a fleeting taste of freedom. Birds are chirping somewhere in the rustling deciduous branches, the grass tickles the bare skin of your feet peeking out of light sandals, and you were almost ready to just stay here and enjoy how the warmth of the sun warms the skin of your face, how the summer wind blows through the light fabric of the skirt of the dress, caressing your legs.

But from this hill, on which a small cozy house is built, in which you apparently live, there is also a beautiful view of the city below, which beckons you with all its appearance, and you do not even think to resist, so uncertainly, but still start your journey, led by pure curiosity and a desire to distract yourself.

When you get to the city, you are suddenly overcome by fear, which for some reason decided to make itself felt only now, when you are already standing with one foot on the bridge of Liyue Harbor.

What if there are people in the city that you should remember, but…

On the other hand, isn't this a good chance to try to remember something? If you have friends, family, and you are lucky enough to meet them on your way, won't they tell you what your husband might not know? Although it is foolish to believe that a person who cares so much about you would not have tried such a way to restore your memory, but still.

You have to try.

So many unfamiliar faces pass by you, but you look uncertainly at each of them. You might still be mistaken for a local lunatic, but what the hell difference does it make if you forget about everything tomorrow? You also notice local shops, restaurants and snack bars, looking curiously at the counters. It all seems familiar. It feels like you've been here before, but almost everything has changed since your last visit, except… The atmosphere? Yes, perhaps, the atmosphere of bright streets filled with the noise of conversations, muffled music and footsteps of hurrying people is exactly what seems native to you.

You stop at a jewelry store, mesmerized by the luxurious rings, chains and precious stones neatly laid out in the window. It's so beautiful, but it hardly suits you.

— You should definitely pay attention to this stone, — you flinch when a low, velvety male voice is heard behind you. You turn around and see an elegant, handsome man towering over you, thoughtfully pressing bent fingers in a black glove to his chin. Tall, slender, dressed in expensive fabrics that gleamed gold in the fading sunlight. The brown strands of his bangs barely sway in the light wind, as does the single exquisite earring in his ear. The stranger's amber eyes stare in amazement at the surprised expression on your face when you freeze, just looking up at him. — Ah, you must be… — the man suddenly stammers, clearing his throat before straightening up and smiling softly. — I wanted to say that this stone will suit you, besides, it is rare enough to be honored to be in your jewelry collection.

— Oh… I'm afraid I can't afford that, — you suddenly get embarrassed, nervously scratching the back of your head and looking away.

— I'm sorry for the tactlessness, I hadn't thought of that. It wasn't nice of me.

— No, it's all right!

— You are too kind, but still, as an apology, will you allow me to buy you tea?

You almost let out an exasperated sigh, but still decided to let the situation go. Although you really can't remember a single person you know, this gentleman's politeness is really amazing…

— If you insist, — you kindly agree, and the stranger gives you a soft smile before gesturing you to walk with him to a restaurant table on the opposite side of the street.

It's a little weird, but… this person doesn't seem bad. You watch a man kindly ask the waiter to serve two cups of tea, and thoughts begin to creep into your head that this man clearly has some kind of high position in this city. It is unlikely that ordinary people behave in this way because of a small misunderstanding.

— Ahem, I'm sorry, — you suddenly draw the man's attention to yourself as soon as the waiter hurriedly leaves the two of you. — I just wanted to say that really nothing terrible happened, so I hope you're not seriously worried about all this.

Honey-colored eyes widen as the man intertwines his long fingers on the table.

— Oh, I understand your concern. The thing is, I didn't really look at the price of this stone.

— Huh? — you wanted to be outraged that the first thing you noticed when you entered this store was the sky-high price tags, but then you cut yourself off. Perhaps this man is just so rich that he doesn't need to bother with such topics. — Ah, I get it. Then I suppose you were going to buy it for yourself, since you said it was quite rare?

— I'm afraid not. I can't afford it either.

«Who are you anyway?»

— I see…

The next few minutes passed in silence until two steaming cups of tea finally appeared on your table. The man thanked the waiter before gently wrapping his hand around the mug and bringing it to his lips. The stranger takes a short sip, closing his eyes and seeming to be aware for several seconds of the taste of the intoxicating drink that has fallen on his tongue.

— Perfect, — the man across from you suddenly breathed out before looking at you. — Please help yourself. This is the best tea in all of Liyue, I assure you, you'll not remain indifferent.

— I'm afraid to addicted to such expensive tea by accident, — you giggle nervously before trying your drink.

Well, the stranger really wasn't lying. Although you vaguely remember all the teas that you have ever tasted in your life, you could tell for sure that this one has a rich taste. Subtle fruity notes, slightly sweet, but not cloying… Perhaps it can really be called delicious.

— Oh, what an exquisite taste, — you try to look thoughtful, like him, when you swallow tea, trying to match your companion for today's walk, who, apparently, is even too well versed in what he cannot afford.

— I'm glad you like it.

— Okay, since we're having tea together now, can I at least get the name of the man who's treating me?

— Oh, where are my manners? I apologize. My name is Zhongli.

«Zhongli… Zhongli… something familiar»

— Well, then we'll get to know each other, Mr. Zhongli, — you smile politely, sipping a little more from your cup.

— And you?..

Damn, did you seriously ask his name and forget to do the same in response? Maybe you should have stayed home after all.

— Oh, yes… I… my name is Y/N.

Zhongli notices you stuttering, stumbling over the words before finally saying your name, and his eyes narrow for a moment before relaxing again.

— Perhaps my question may seem tactless to you, but you didn't want to tell me your name? Because it seemed to me that it was very difficult for you, — the man chuckles softly before taking another sip of tea.

— Huh, no… I don't want to burden you with my problems.

— No, it won't be a burden for me. Of course, if that's your wish, — Zhongli suddenly cuts you off.

You're hesitating, fidgeting in your chair. It doesn't look like he really knows you, so… wouldn't it be okay if you told him? He really doesn't look like a bad person, and how can such absurd information about you benefit him? No more than the babble of a stranger he met on the street.

— The thing is, I don't remember my name. I had to strain my memory a little to remember what my husband called me in the note he left me this morning… I don't remember anything and I seem to forget even the day I lived earlier, as soon as I fall asleep. So I suppose even our acquaintance will eventually be forgotten, as sad as it is to admit.

You suddenly become gloomy, plunging back into unpleasant thoughts about what is happening in your life at all… And can it even be considered yours if you don't remember it?

— That's how it is, — Zhongli chuckles, thinking at first, and then his eyebrows rise, as if he remembered something important, and one of his hands reaches into his pocket, from which the man takes out a small notebook. — Then why don't you write it down?

You look at him with undisguised surprise, but his words sound like something taken for granted, but something that you would never have thought of yourself in your life.

— Write it down?..

— Yes. You can write down that you visited a jewelry store today and met me there, and after that we talked and had tea. Then next time, if fate brings us together again, you can find out from your notes that we have met before.

— But I… can write down everything that happens every day… won't that help me remember at least what happened yesterday? — you enthusiastically press your palms against the table, asking this question more to yourself than to Zhongli, but he nods approvingly in response.

— I suppose so.

— Archons… — you feel tears coming to the corners of your eyes, and blink several times, graciously accepting the man's gift. — Thank you very much, Zhongli. I will… take care of that.

The man smiles, feeling a certain relief when he notices that he seems to have helped you solve some problem that was bothering you today.

— Glad to help, — you put the notebook in your pocket when the man finishes his tea and sets the cup aside. — I hope this will improve your condition a little.

You flinch when someone's hand squeezes your shoulder tightly. You turn around, lifting your head to see the man looming over you, whom you seem to have already seen in the photo in your house…

«Ah…»

— Oh, I suppose that's your husband? — Zhongli doesn't seem worried at all as he gets up from the table, slightly bowing to Baizhu standing behind you.

— Mr. Zhongli, what a blessing that you are the one who met my wife. I'm afraid to imagine what could happen to her if she walked around the Harbor alone, — you notice how your husband's eyes close and his lips stretch into a sweetly friendly smile.

— I just gave the young lady tea as an apology for my own tactlessness.

— It's nice that you admit your mistakes, it's very rare nowadays.

Their conversation sounds quite normal, but for some reason you feel your stomach clench with worry and anxiety.

— Like loyalty to the contract, good manners are something that has long been highly valued in Liyue, — Zhongli suddenly turns his gaze to you. — Now, if you'll excuse me. I suppose I can put you in safe hands now and take my leave.

— Y-yes… — you finally squeeze out the quiet words. — Thank you… for the tea.

Zhongli is smiling.

— I hope you won't forget the taste of it and come back here to taste it again.

And the man left.

✧ ✧ ✧

Baizhu didn't say a word as he dragged you up the stairs to a place that seemed to be the very Bubu Pharmacy to which he drew a map for you. It was quite strange to just let a man you didn't really know drag you in a rather possessive manner to a place that you only found out about in the morning, but for some reason you also remain silent, obediently following him.

It's like you have no other choice. Maybe, in fact, it is.

Your «husband» suddenly stops as soon as you overcome the seemingly endless staircase.

— I'm sorry, please. I shouldn't have been so harsh. You must be scared now.…

You notice how Baiazhu's face contorts in remorse as he looks at you with concern, gently squeezing your palms in his.

— It's all right.… I just found this and thought you wouldn't mind if I took a walk, — you pull your hand out of his grip and take out a homemade card from your pocket, which the man immediately snatches from your fingers.

— It doesn't matter. Y/N, I'm just worried about your condition. I don't think you should talk to strangers. Although Mr. Zhongli is a respected person, I don't know how this can affect your condition. Yes, I left this card, but I didn't think you'd be afraid to go anywhere other than my job, so…

— That's enough, — Baizhu freezes, silently opening his mouth when your face takes on an irritated look, and you cut off his endless stream of words. — I can understand your concern, but isn't everything okay? I'm here, I'm fine.…

— Y/N, I know it's pointless to ask you for anything, but just… Believe me, it would be better for you if you just stayed at home or if you came to me. Why didn't you come to me?

— BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW YOU! — you suddenly shout out, causing Baizhu to freeze in shock. Your words are laced with malice and it's so damn disgusting, but you can't help yourself. — I'm sorry, but I don't remember you, you know that yourself! Why should I listen to you at all? I wanted to take a walk, I have the right to do that, don't I?!

— Y/N, you're crossing the line, — you feel your husband's grip tighten on your palm, which was still in his hand. His snake-like eyes seemed to flash with anger, and the soft smile that you saw earlier disappeared from his face, as if it had never been on him.

The very air around the two of you has become heavier, and you feel like you're starting to suffocate. You have to say something, do something.… Apologize? For what?

— Mr. Baizhu… — you both turn around when you hear a small child's voice coming from the entrance of the Hut. Do you suddenly notice a little girl literally plastered from head to toe with… talismans? — I heard a noise.…

— Oh, Qiqi, it's okay, you can wait for me inside, — as if at the snap of his fingers, a kind and gentle smile shines on Baizhu's face again. But the grip on your arm remains just as painful.

— Okay...

The little girl awkwardly squeezes back out the door, and your husband turns back to you. You can feel his fingers slowly relaxing around your palm.

— I have a few more things to settle, and then we can go home. Or do you want to take another walk around the city?

— No, it's not… I'll wait for you here.

Why do you keep groveling in front of him, even though you've just seen what he can be like? It's an inexplicable feeling.… It's like you're being held down by unbreakable chains held by this man. You don't like it.

✧ ✧ ✧

The drive home was stressful, although Baizhu tried his best to defuse the situation by gently holding your hand and asking all sorts of trivial questions. He feels how tense you are, feels that you don't trust him, but he doesn't seem to pay any attention to it on purpose.

The rest of the evening goes the same way. He helps you change, cooks dinner for you, and you eat together, exchanging a few phrases before it's time to go to bed. You feel a certain relief that you will probably forget this chaotic day when you wake up the next morning, but… now you have a way to remember.

Is it worth writing about it? Is Baizhu really not trustworthy?

You don't know.

— Honey, are we going to bed? — your husband gently strokes your head, standing in the doorway of your bedroom until you dare to enter, clutching the hem of your shirt tightly.

— Yes, but I need to… Go to the bathroom.

That smile again.

— Okay, I'll be waiting for you in bed.

✧ ✧ ✧

July 20th

You're having a wonderful dream. You feel so happy, so carelessly free, when your palm rests in the hand of a man who kisses you on the top of your head.

And this image inevitably blurs before your eyes, no matter how hard you try to remember his face. All that you are allowed to take with you from this sweet dream is a feeling of warmth and comfort, woven by the pure feelings that you feel towards this person whom you are punished to forget.

And the last thing you see is a snake sneaking into your cozy nest before it wraps around the silhouette of the man you love, causing him to disappear without a trace. You want to scream, you want to cry, but you just look at how your pencil-drawn life is erased with an eraser, and obsessive images are drawn on top, from which a suffocating lump rises to your throat.

«Wake up, T/I…»

You open your eyes wide. The room, the smell, the warmth enveloping your body — everything is so unfamiliar and causes the anxiety that you experienced in the last moments of your spoiled sleep. You want to pull away from the pillow, but some force holds you motionless before you feel the movements on the other side of the bed.

It's so hard to breathe, and you purse your lips when you look down, noticing a man's hand hugging your body. Maybe it's…

— Good morning, Y/N.

You turn your head and see a sleepy man. His long green hair was carelessly scattered over the blanket, like thousands of threads that, if you blink, will wrap around your limbs. The man smiles softly, looking at you from under heavy eyelids. His amber eyes are like viscous honey, deceptively sweet and alluring.

— W-who are you? — you grab the edges of the blanket with your hands, pulling it higher over your body and fearfully tucking your legs in. A strange feeling of discomfort appears between the closed thighs, and before that only a distant nausea, originating somewhere in your stomach, begins to be felt more clearly.

— Your husband, of course. I'm glad that I have the opportunity to spend the morning with you today. It's not often that I get this opportunity, — a man's palm, resting on your stomach a second ago, now moves to your cheek, and before you even have time to react, his lips are on yours. The kiss is short and gentle, but you don't respond to it, only letting out a dissatisfied moan before the man pulls away, quietly grinning. — I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. You're so cute when you're sulking.

— Why should I believe you? And… — you wipe your lips with the back of a trembling palm. — …don't do that anymore.

The man smiles, resting his chin on his palm.

— In our house, you'll find many confirmations for every word I say. Although you don't remember it, we've been married for ten years and we love each other.

— Then this is… — you look down, squeezing your hips harder, feeling your underwear stick uncomfortably to your skin, before turning your gaze to a naked pale man barely covered with a blanket.

His face contorts in obviously feigned embarrassment.

— Ahem, like I said, we're married. Unfortunately, you forget all the events of the past day, so you probably don't remember what we did last night.

— That's how… — you want to believe his words, but for some reason there is something inexplicable about this man.

Dangerous.

— I think we should take a shower. Will you join me?

— I'm sorry, I… it's so awkward to ask, uh… — you look away, clearing your throat before your «husband» interrupts your mumbling.

— Baizhu. My name is Baizhu, — he smiles again, leaving a short kiss on your forehead before getting out of bed.

Your assumption that he really wasn't wearing clothes turned out to be correct. Baizhu puts on a robe before silently leaving the room. You hurriedly glance around the bedroom, but then glance towards the open door, hearing a quiet noise coming from, it seems, the kitchen. Hesitantly, you reach down, running your fingers under your underwear, almost immediately feeling your fingertips touch a viscous substance that instantly sticks to your skin. You abruptly pull your hand out from under the blanket, noticing how a cloudy milky slime has remained on your fingers.

«Indeed… Either you're my husband, or…»

No, this man doesn't look like a crazy maniac. You examine your arms and the rest of your body for bruises or any other signs of violence, finding no evidence of your frightening theory. Your gaze skims around the room once more, noticing a couple of photos, flowers standing on a table by the window, a woman's robe hanging on the back of a chair that probably belongs to you.

This place really looks like the home of two lovers. Cozy, bright and tidy.

— Here, have a drink, — you startled when Baizhu's voice suddenly rings out in the silence of the room. He's standing over your figure sitting on the bed, holding a small mug in his hand, even though you didn't even hear him come back.

— What is it? — you ask, holding out your hand in disbelief.

— I'm a doctor and I'm trying to cure you. I haven't been successful so far, but it's the least I can do, at least to avoid aggravating your condition.

When you accepted the mug from the man, you immediately felt the characteristic smell of herbs. The liquid is transparent, having a slightly greenish tint. It looks like a harmless decoction. You take a sip, instantly feeling the disgusting bitter taste on your tongue, and choke, almost spitting it all back out.

— Ha-ha, you've never liked taking my medicine, — Baizhu laughs, giving you a warm look before moving away from the bed only to take your robe from the chair and return, spreading it out in front of you while you writhe down the last sips of the decoction. — So you're accepting my invitation?

✧ ✧ ✧

It was so strange to feel the touch of a man you barely knew, who called himself your husband, when he was carefully helping you take a bath. Nothing obscene, but… you felt out of place. Baizhu acts like he's really known you for decades, but you can't return the favor. It's so weird. You didn't feel bad when his hands slid down your stomach, then gently and gently rinsing your crotch from the effects of last night, but it's embarrassing.

For some reason, you feel ashamed that you don't have feelings for this person. On the contrary, you don't even feel comfortable being around him. Of course, you don't remember him, and that's a perfectly normal reaction, but still… This is kind of crazy.

— As much as I'd like to stay with you, I still have patients waiting for me, so… I hope you can manage without me until tonight?

You wipe your hair with a towel, noticing that Baizhu has already managed to get dressed, braid his long hair into a braid and put on glasses. He looked very different than at this morning, but you can't say he looks worse now.

— I've done with this before, haven't I? — you giggle nervously, suddenly thinking about what you do every day.

— That's right, — the man smiles, slowly approaching you. For just a moment, he just stops his gaze on your confused figure before bending down and touching his lips to your cheek. — Then see you tonight, Y/N.

— Y-yes, see you tonight… Baizhu.

The door closes, you hear a loud click from turning the key. He's gone.

You just stand in the middle of the kitchen for a while trying to figure out what to do next, before your gaze stops at one of the drawers, on which it is written in neat handwriting «If you want to have a snack».

You don't feel like eating. Although Bai Zhu mentioned that he always leaves food in the fridge for you while you took a shower together, you hardly feel hungry. To tell you the truth, you don't feel anything. It's so weird, but you're really not standing here because you're thinking or because you need some time alone with yourself. You don't know what you have to do. Although the windows are tightly locked, you can see that the weather is quite pleasant outside, but Bai Zhu took the keys with him. He probably doesn't want you to go out alone.

He probably just cares about you.

You walk over and open the candy drawer, pursing your lips and just staring at the various candies and chocolates that you probably love.

— What am I even doing… — you sigh, about to close the drawer, but as soon as you start to slide it back, your gaze catches on some object lying under the stacks of neatly folded sweets.

You carefully push the chocolates away, noticing a small leather-bound notebook underneath. The first thought that crossed your mind before you unfolded the notebook is that there are probably some recipes written down here, since it is in the kitchen, but even after a cursory scan of the carelessly written lines, you realized that this is not the case.

«I don't know if you will check this place tomorrow, but I know for sure that Baizhu will not look into this box for a few more days…»

«I don't know why I'm hiding this diary, but it seems right to me…»

«July 19th

Today I met a man named Zhongli, who handed me this notebook. He seemed very friendly to me, but I still think that I should be careful with any people with whom I'm connected by fate. Don't you also feel this inexplicable anxiety? It's like everyone knows something you don't. It's so annoying.»

«Baizhu was acting strangely today… When he saw me chatting with Zhongli, they had a very strange conversation. I heard their words, but all the time I had the impression that I did not understand at all what they were talking about. Baizhu is definitely familiar with Zhongli, but does this mean that Zhongli knows me? If so, why didn't he say anything? Why did you pretend that we didn't know each other?»

«I thought about it all the way home while Baizhu tried to pretend that nothing had happened. He's trying to help me, so why didn't he give me a notebook like this before? Wouldn't that help me at least try to remember what happened the day before? It's not enough, I understand, but still… isn't it weird?»

«I feel like he won't let me out of the house anymore. Baizhu was so angry, even though he tried to pretend that he wasn't. He asked me why I didn't come to him…»

«Be careful. I don't know what is really going on, but… all hope is that I will find out in the future, which means I must keep this diary even at the cost of my life. Please move it to another place so that Baizhu will definitely not find it.»

«I'm relying on you. You should know what to do.»

The last lines of the diary, written in obvious haste, began to blur before your eyes. Your head is splitting so much that it feels like it's about to burst, and you wrap your hands around your face, dropping the notebook on the floor, when chaotic images begin to emerge under your closed eyelids.

A man in a suit, the taste of hot sweet tea. Fresh air, the paths of Liyue streets.

«Ah, you must be...»

«I hope you won't forget the taste of it and come back here to taste it again»

«T/I, you're crossing the line»

It's so hard to put the pieces together, like a puzzle with missing parts, but you're desperate to see the whole picture. An obsession that can drive itself crazy, but something forcibly keeps it in check at the cost of lost fragments. You really need to remember this, remember everything, but you run into an impenetrable wall, suddenly opening your eyes.

The kitchen, silence and only a very distant muffled sound of rustling leaves.

— What was that just now?.. — you rub your eyes, just pausing for a second before taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, opening your eyes again and glancing at the notebook on the floor.

You have to… Continue recording. You have to write down everything that happened today, you have to write down what will happen tonight.

✧ ✧ ✧

July 23rd

— Have a drink.

You're sitting at the kitchen table, staring in surprise at your husband, who is handing you a mug.

— But I already drank it this morning.…

— You need to take this decoction twice a day, honey. I know you don't like the taste of it, but it's for your own good, — Baizhu smiles, leaving the mug on the table and insistently pushing it towards you.

You've been acting weird the last few days. Every morning starts the same as usual, but once Baizhu leaves for work and comes back, you… no, you just can't remember. It's impossible.

The man gently strokes your head, watching intently as you swallow the decoction. Every last drop.

— Good girl.

Baizhu's palm descends lower, gently massaging your neck. You flinch at the unexpected oppressive, but not unpleasant feeling, putting your mug back on the table. The bitter taste lingers on your tongue, forcing you to reluctantly swallow again.

— Baizhu…

The man tilts his head to the side, continuing to stand behind you, now moving his hand to your shoulder.

— Will I ever be able to… live as usual?

Baizhu narrows his eyes. The corners of his lips twitch before stretching into a soft smile.

— I'll do my best for this.

— But this decoction is the only thing I'm taking right now, isn't it? Isn't there… another medicine?

Baizhu's long fingers squeeze your shoulder harder.

— I'll definitely find it, dear.

— What if… — you stammer, suddenly pursing your lips, not sure if it's worth saying what you're going to say.

— If? — the man bends down, and you can feel his breath, from which the stray hairs are slightly waving near your ear.

— If… If I keep a diary?

— A diary? — the tone of Baizhu's voice lowers, and you can almost feel the smile fading from his face. — Where did you get such thoughts?

— Isn't that logical? If I can't remember what happened yesterday…

—No, — your husband cuts you off in mid-sentence. — We've been through this before, honey. Do you really think that I would neglect any way to help you if he was a worker?

— No, I'm not…

— You don't trust me?

You swallow nervously. Under the skin, the purest manifestation of fear that a person can experience seems to snake. This question… There is only one correct answer to it. It's on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason you don't dare say it out loud. Why? Do you really not trust him?

— I… — you take a deep breath before turning to face Baizhu. You're looking straight into cold golden eyes, staring intently at how you're desperately trying to hide the worry appearing on your face. He can feel the blood pumping furiously through your veins, throbbing under his grip on your shoulder. — Of course I trust you.

You gently place your hand over Baizhu's fingers, which are almost painfully pressed into your skin. Baizhu sees your expression soften, and you gently stroke his cool skin with your thumb, bending slightly and leaning your cheek against his hand.

The pulsations under his palm are becoming more and more distinct.

— Don't scare me like that anymore. I'm willing to do anything for you, — the grip on your shoulder loosens, and the fingers of Baizhu's free hand tangle in your hair as he bends even lower. His lips are just an inch from yours. You can feel his steady breathing on the skin of your face. — Anything.

And he kisses you.

So possessive and persistent. He can't help himself. He wants to tear you to pieces. He feels the bitter taste of lies on your lips. The same taste that his own lips have.

You're so unfair.

Isn't Baizhu doing enough for you? Why do you doubt it? It hurts Baizhu so much. He feels his heart oozing with a viscous, stinking black substance — the fruit of his own sin and your disgusting lies, and if he is ready to admit his own inferiority, ready to be punished for his actions, then you… he cannot accept that you can be so cruel to him.

You hesitate, trying to hold back the urge to push Baizhu away as his hand slides down your forearm before settling on your hip. It's not like a normal kiss. His tongue invades your mouth uninvited, long and slippery, almost making you gasp as he pushes insistently towards your throat before wrapping around yours again. You whine when he moves, now standing in front of you and possessively stroking your knee.

You were so sweet when you touched his hand. Baizhu almost believed in the sincerity of your words. He really wants to believe. And that's why he can't stop now until he feels your devotion on his own body. You belong to him. Your smell, your taste, your body and soul are all his.

Finally, the suffocating kiss is broken, and Baizhu's lips come off yours. He slowly pulls away, and the thread of your saliva mixture stretching between you breaks off as he begins to kneel down. You squirm in your chair, fearfully clutching the hem of your skirt as his palms slide up your thighs. The tips of your fingers deliberately touch the inside of your trembling legs, which you squeeze to the last before finally hesitantly spreading apart, feeling that if you don't, Baizhu will force them apart.

— What is it, honey? Don't you like it?

A cloying, such a disgustingly cloying voice. You know that he only expects one answer from you, but Baizhu also knows that you really want to answer. Are you lying again? No. This time he knows you're only lying to yourself. He's sure that if he touches your hot crotch now, he will feel the moisture sticking to the fabric of your panties. Isn't that adorable? Your resistance against the desires of your own body is what Baizhu lacked when he fucked you in your sleep, so pliant and completely surrendered to true desires.

— I-like it… — you whisper so uncertainly that you feel sick of how inept this little lie is.

— Well, of course… After all, I know you better than anyone else, — the tips of his fingers cling to your panties, and you reluctantly slightly lift your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs and lift up your skirt. — I know what you want… — Baizhu's lips are pressed against the inside of your thigh. — I know that you love… — he inhales the fragrance coming from you, burrowing deeper and deeper between your legs. — I know that you'll never lie to me. Is that right, Y/N? You're only mine, aren't you? — your frightened eyes meet Baizhu's frighteningly cold gaze, and you nervously swallow a heavy lump in your throat before answering softly.

— Yes… only yours.

The amber eyes narrow slightly before Baizhu's lips stretch into his trademark smile.

— Even if you forget again, I'll remind you of it again and again, every minute of my life, if necessary… — you feel the man's hot breath on the sensitive skin of your thighs when he lowers his head lower again. — I'll always remind you of who you belong to.

There's something wrong with him, you shouldn't feel good with him.… But your consciousness is inevitably clouded by the uncontrollable heat localized in the bottom of your stomach. You can try to deceive yourself, but you can never deceive human nature itself. Baizhu knows how to please you, knows how to make you swallow all those brazen lies that came out of your tongue earlier and replace them with sweet moans that he loves to hear so much.

Baizhu can give you the love, enjoyment, and happy life you deserve. A life that no one else could give you. Just him.

And this is just the beginning.

«Be patient a little more, Y/N… I'll fix it soon…»

Your body trembles as Baizhu wraps his arms around your hips from below, keeping your legs spread apart. You feel so strange.… The sweet anticipation is so tempting, but it's like something's wrong. The darkness so languidly gives way to the vague outlines of your own legs with Baizhu between them as you blink slowly.

And then you see him.

The image of Baizhu suddenly blurs, replaced by the image of another man. You know him. You should know. Just for a moment you have time to look at his face, remember his soft smile, hear a voice calling your name.

You scream when you see your «husband» in his place again. His wide amber eyes are watching intently as you press your palms to your lips in horror. Your chest is shaking, rising and falling sharply in time with your labored breathing. The shackles of deceptive pleasure seem to have evaporated, now replaced by pure panic and anxiety, which penetrate deep into your skin, sending a chill down your spine.

— You… — you're not blinking. It seemed like you even stopped breathing. — Who are you?

✧ ✧ ✧

July 21st

«He refused to let me out on the street. When I asked him if I could at least go to work with him, his face suddenly darkened, but he was still smiling. As always.

Whatever he's trying to hide from me, sooner or later I'll get to the truth...»

«Why does he keep giving me this decoction? As soon as I asked what was in it and what it was for, Baizhu didn't answer anything and just changed the subject. It's so weird…»

July 22nd

«What if I had asked him about the diary? I really don't understand what he wants.… I know that Baizhu wants to help, I know that I should appreciate what he does for me, but think about it. Have you ever seen him do anything for you? Why does he never talk about my past life? Why does he just say that he is my husband and nothing else?»

«You have to find Zhongli… He definitely knows something. It's very risky, but why don't you try to escape through the window when he's not at home?»

July 23rd

«I met with Zhongli, but to no avail. No matter what I asked, his answers were so vague…»

«He said he couldn't tell me the whole truth. He said: «Why don't you ask your husband about it?». Should I even do this? The more I dig into it, the more I realize that he can't be trusted…»

«I have to ask him. Otherwise, it will never stop. I'm starting to remember… I'm starting to remember very vaguely the person I shouldn't have forgotten. Who is he? Baizhu should know him. But I can't ask about it directly.… I think he might get angry if I ask about another man.»

July 25th

— How sweet, — Baizhu smiles, gently closing the small notebook. — And how ugly it is for the God of Contracts to violate his own terms, although … — the man grins, slightly throwing his head back. — …but I should thank him, because don't trials make our ties stronger?

Baizhu turns to you.

— Oh, yes, yes, you can't answer me, — the tips of your fingers run over the tape tightly glued to your lips. — I'm sorry that I had to go to extreme measures. The last few days have been as hard for me as for you… I had to work overtime, leave you alone in this state. There wasn't a second that I didn't think about you, I swear.

He's stroking your cheek.

— Tomorrow will be our last first meeting, I promise. I'll make you forget about everything that worries you so much.… It's the least I can do to help you.

You mumble incoherently, fidgeting in your chair.

— Oh, I know what you want to say. I'm sick of having to do this to you myself. I really wanted it to be different, but your memories started coming back too soon.… This is my mistake. I'll fix it.

For a moment, Baizhu's face is distorted with mock sadness.

— I'm really sorry that I had to get rid of your former husband, — the man sighs. — I wanted you to forget about him, but even my skill is not perfect, it took a little time to refine the «medicine». I'm sorry you had to go through all this.

You gasp for air, about to scream as soon as Baizhu tears the tape off your face, but his fingers instantly press into your jaw, tilting your head back and forcing your mouth wide open.

— I have to give you credit. Although the idea of the diary seemed innocent to me at first, when you had already kept it before, this time you surpassed yourself. I knew that sooner or later you would start digging into things that you don't need to dig into, — Baizhu clicks his tongue. — You should have just trusted me. I have to be the only one who will carry this load.

You take a deep breath and immediately choke when he forcibly pours a disgusting-tasting liquid into your mouth, which you try to spit out, but it inevitably flows down your throat anyway.

— You don't need this.

The room suddenly starts spinning before your eyes. The tinnitus drowns out the sound of your coughing and vomiting.

— See you in our new life, Y/N.

✧ ✧ ✧

July 26th

Bright sunlight, marking the beginning of a new day, persistently seeps through heavy eyelids, inevitably squinting when consciousness gradually returns to you after a deep sleep. It stings so unpleasantly, and you turn away from the source of the rays, which cruelly outrages your eyes. The embrace of sleep doesn't lose hope of keeping you at least a moment longer in its warmth, but for some reason the heart in your chest shudders restlessly, forcing you to explode from the soft pillow.

A slight shortness of breath, and the eyes open abruptly. You're clutching the blanket convulsively in your hands.

Your eyes are frantically running around an unfamiliar room, you feel a drop of cold sweat trickling down your temple. Fragments of a painful nightmare pop up in my mind. There is still a bitter taste on the tongue, causing nausea.

— Are you awake yet, honey? — you turn your head sharply in the direction from which the velvety gentle voice is coming.

There's a man you don't know standing in the doorway. His eyes are closed behind the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and his lips are stretched in a smile while he holds two steaming mugs in his hand, from which a subtle coffee aroma emanates. You scan the soft features of his friendly face with your gaze, and suddenly your eyes widen when they notice a white snake wrapped around his neck.

— Hey, Baizhu! You already left me for a few days with Qiqi, and now you're forcing me to inhale this disgusting smell. Get it away from me, — the snake suddenly spoke in a haughty tone, making you completely numb from shock.

— Okay, okay, — the green-haired man grins, leaving the mugs on your bedside table before sitting on the corner of the bed next to you. — How are you feeling, Y/N?

You tear your stunned gaze away from the pouting and averted snake and turn your attention to the man who is carefully wrapping his arms around one of your palms.

— I… don't know… I'm sorry, but who are you?

The man's fingers tremble on your palm. His smile widens a little.

— Don't worry, my love, I'll tell you everything now.

✧ ✧ ✧

August 5th

Baizhu sips tea from his cup, sighing contentedly. He turns his head to the side where the sound of your ringing laughter is coming from. You carefully place a homemade wreath of flowers that you have managed to collect around your house on Qiqi's head, with a doomed look allowing you to play with yourself like with a charming doll. The little girl looks at you in a puzzled way, probing with her hands what turned out to be on her head, and you smugly straighten up, resting your fists on your hips, glancing at Baizhu, sitting at a table in the garden not far from the two of you. You wave at him and smile radiantly, making the man's heart clench in his chest for a moment.

So carefree and happy.

— I see that she's fine now, — Zhongli says, covering his golden eyes before taking a sip of his hot drink.

— Was there any problem? — Baizhu smiles, interlacing his fingers on the table.

The man opposite chuckles, returning his cup back to the small saucer.

— I'm sick of watching them not detach from each other for the last few days, — Changsheng snorts in displeasure, curling a tighter ring around Baizhu's neck.

— What a nice tea,— Zhongli glances at the empty cup. — Thank you for the invitation. I think I should go now.

Baizhu smiles softly, getting up from the table after the guest.

— I hope you'll find some more time to visit my wife and me someday. You were so kind to help her last time, and this is the least I could do to express my gratitude.

Zhongli nods briefly.

— I'm always happy to help.

— Oh, and by the way… — Baizhu takes out a small notebook from his pocket, handing it to the Consultant. — It was so kind of you to give my wife such a lovely gift, but I'm afraid she can't accept it.

Zhongli's eyes widen slightly when he recognizes the object in Baizhu's hand as the notebook he gave you at your last meeting before taking it back.

— It's a pity, but I guess it did her a favor after all.

— More than that, — the Doctor smiles, squinting slightly. — I hope you know what to do with it. Although I follow all the laws of Liyue, but this time I can forgive some mistake that you allowed yourself to make by violating the terms of our contract. It would be a shame if you were careless enough to look for loopholes in it again, Mr. Zhongli.

— I could say that I hope for future fruitful cooperation, but I wouldn't like to accidentally meet you again at night on the Wuwang Hill.

Baizhu chuckles softly.

— Fair point, — the Doctor turns around again, noticing how you worriedly pull out the wreath that Qiqi was trying to eat from her hands. — It would be extremely awkward to meet again under such circumstances.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 15A: Dreams

Wilmington, North Carolina

Labor Day Weekend, 1988

I'm hung up on dreams I'll never see Help me baby, or this will surely be the end of me…

 - Dreams, The Allman Brothers Band (1969) [click here to listen]

“I’ll be upstairs in just a few minutes. Did you finish your reading?”

Ten-year-old William MacKenzie shook his head. “I was going to, but that’s when Daddy arrived with Jamie and Claire – I mean, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. And then it was time for dinner, and then - ”

Gillian Duncan MacKenzie bent to kiss her son’s forehead. “All right then. Why don’t you get yourself all caught up?”

William’s eyes darted over to Claire, seated across from his mother at the kitchen table, sipping sweet tea.

“Jamie and I will be here all weekend,” she smiled. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk with him about music tomorrow.”

His face brightened. “OK! See you in the morning!”

Claire couldn’t help but smile as William darted out of the room, footsteps quickly thudding on the stairs.

Gillian turned to face her guest. “He’s so excited. It’s not every day that a bona fide rock star is here in sleepy Wilmington.”

“Thank you for asking him to not tell his friends at school. I’m used to the attention now – ”

Gillian raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you?”

Claire shrugged. “Well – no. I don’t know if I ever will be. But one thing that won’t change is how much we value our privacy. So – thank you.”

“Of course, Claire. Privacy and discretion are what I do professionally – how could I not extend the same courtesy to you, when you’re a guest in my home?”

“Still. Thank you.”

A beat. Claire sipped the sweet tea Gillian had made – the same recipe she’d grown to love, those months at The Ridge. Gillian gently pulled Claire’s left hand across the table, studying her rings.

“You said this was his grandmother’s engagement ring?”

Claire nodded. “He inherited it when she died. His sister Jenny kept it for him, until he asked her for it. Called her the day he got home from The Ridge, and went to see her the next day. He gave it to me a few weeks later.”

“A man who knows what he wants.”

Claire smiled. “And I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”

Gillian returned the smile, then focused on the wide band next to the engagement ring.

“I love how solid and simple your ring is. Silver?”

“Platinum. His is the same. Wide enough for an inscription on the inside.”

“I do,” she had whispered. Smiling through the tears. Thinking he looked just a bit ridiculous in his suit. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Love” across his knuckle.

“I do,” he had whispered. Eyes burning, full of awe. Agape at the simple gray dress she had chosen, his mother’s pearls around her throat. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Heart” onto her finger.

“I am so pleased to…” Professor Quentin Lambert Beauchamp loudly blew his nose into a polka-dotted handkerchief. “Excuse me. I am so pleased to pronounce you husband and wife. Jamie, you may kiss your bride.”

He did. To the applause of the ten dear friends gathered in Joe and Gail Abernathy’s Boston backyard.

“That’s beautiful.” Gillian lay her own left hand on the table, adorned only by a thin gold ring. “Dougal never gave me an engagement ring, and he insisted I have the gold band for our marriage. His is silver. He had just sunk all of his money into building The Ridge, and we couldn’t even afford flowers at the reception.”

“That’s beautiful, too, Gillian. And I understand why you wouldn’t want to upgrade. Because what you have now, is that much more meaningful.”

“I was sitting here, when Joe and Gail staged the intervention.” Jamie looked over at his wife – his wife!! – gazing up into the arbor behind the house. “The vines were heavy with grapes. I remember thinking, how appropriate that I’m looking at what could be wine.”

He pulled her closer against his side, and kissed the top of her head. Careful of the tortoiseshell combs that Jenny had so lovingly placed in Claire’s hair as she got ready this afternoon.

“Ian confronted me in a hotel room in…Sacramento, I think. I had been so wasted on stage the night before, slurring through half the songs. Jenny had come to see Ian, and she was so scared for me. She had already done the research, made a few phone calls. I puked the whole flight across country to North Carolina.”

“It’s always the ones we love who we hurt the most,” she murmured.

“I’m never going to hurt you, Claire. You know that, right?”

She turned to face her husband – her husband!! – and smiled. Reassuring.

“I do. And you know I’m never going to hurt you, Jamie. Right?”

He nodded. Couldn’t help but kiss her.

“Ah!”

Dougal MacKenzie and Alec MacMahon turned the corner, and cheered. “Here you are! Come on – don’t let us have all the fun without you. Can’t miss your own wedding reception!”

Gillian nodded. “I don’t need it. I have the life we’ve built together, and our son, and a man who somehow thinks the sun rises and sets with me. I’ll never understand it.”

Claire swallowed.

Of course Gillian noticed.

“Don’t ever doubt how much he loves you, Claire. I’ve seen you two together – you’re so natural with each other. That’s never going to change.”

She clenched her hand into a fist. Centering herself.

“It’s…it’s just so…intense, with him,” she whispered.

“We don’t have to tonight, Jamie. We have forever, now.”

His hands shook as his thumb softly, softly traced down her neck, across the pearls, and settled into the cleft between her breasts.

“I want to, Claire. I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. I just…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gillian asked gently. “I can be your therapist, or I can be your friend. But I will listen.”

Claire took a deep, calming breath. “Being on tour – I see now how he developed the addictions. Every aspect of it is so stressful. He feels so much pressure to lead his band, to write music, to live up to the fans’ expectations. And he has to deal with the label and the tour manager and the production guys, and do media, and somehow find time to eat and shower and sleep on top of all of that.” Her thumb twisted her wedding ring. “He’d use the drugs to come up, and the alcohol to come down. And the women to just forget about everything for a while.”

“Are those groupies?”

Colum had organized a small gathering for the band and crew to celebrate the first show of the acoustic tour. No alcohol or drugs in the room – though Claire quickly learned that the rules by no means extended to hallways and bathrooms and storage rooms at the venue.

Jamie squeezed her hand, standing side by side in the corner, both of them holding a can of Tab.

“Yeah. I can ask them to leave, if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

“No need.” She dropped his hand and quietly approached the four women giggling on the other side of the room.

“Ladies. I’m Claire Beauchamp. I’m with him.”

She turned slightly, looked at Jamie over her shoulder, and then turned back to her audience.

“So?” A girl wearing a strategically ripped Def Leppard t-shirt popped her gum. “That’s not what I heard about the last time he was here.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “That was then. This is now. I will say this only one time. If you even think about flashing a boob, or smiling at him, or trying to get him alone? I will end you.”

The girls gaped.

“Tell all your friends here in Albuquerque, please. Are we clear?”

“And now, that you’re there with him?”

Claire smiled. “He’s eating and sleeping a lot better. Has a lot more energy. He so desperately wants to do everything right. And I’m not going to lie, Gillian – seeing him perform the songs he wrote for me at The Ridge, and then being there when he comes off stage, all keyed up from singing and playing the guitar…”

“It sounds like in many respects he’s replaced his additions with you.”

Claire looked up, meeting Gillian’ gaze. “Of course he has. The album and lead single will be called She’s My Addiction. Doesn’t get any more obvious than that.”

“And how do you feel about that, Claire?”

She lay her hands flat on the table. “I’ve never felt more…loved, and cherished, than when I’m with Jamie.”

She frowned and opened her eyes when he stopped brushing her hair, one morning in Minneapolis.

“What – ”

The pads of his fingers swept the left side of her neck, still a bit tender from his kisses after last night’s show. “I bruised you. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm. I’m not.”

She swallowed. “But it’s so, so hard sometimes. He loves me for who I am, but I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up. And he stresses over so much that he doesn’t have to. Gillian, he’s been having panic attacks all tour.”

“My God. Is he seeing anyone to help with that?”

Claire sighed. “You’re looking at her. Thank God I did that psych rotation when I was in med school. I’ve helped him recognize the signs, and he knows enough to tell me when it’s happening so that we can get away and I can help him through it. But I’m not a psychiatrist. I can’t be everything he needs. He has to do a lot of work to explore what’s triggering him, so that he can manage that. Because after we take the break at the end of the year, we’ll be on the road for most of ’89. The label has booked more than a hundred shows.”

“And you’ll be with him?”

“Of course. He’s the air I breathe. I know this sounds insane, but we want to try for a baby next year. That way he can be off the road, off touring, to be with me if the timing lines up.” She sighed. “So I’ve talked to him about bringing a therapist with us on tour. He needs to have that kind of support from someone other than me. Especially when we’re in Europe and he’s playing soccer stadiums and dealing with a next level of bullshit.”

“Do you want some recommendations? Between Dougal and I, we can definitely help you find someone.”

Claire smiled thinly. “That would be wonderful. It has to be someone we both trust. Who can deal with all the craziness.”

Gillian nodded. “Consider it our wedding gift to you. I – we – really want to help you. You know this, Claire – getting sober is hard, but staying sober is so, so much harder. It does and doesn’t get easier with time. Dougal would say the same thing.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

She settled her chin into his shoulder, nestled securely in his lap. Together they watched the cornfields of Iowa glide by, thousands of feet below.

“No. Not really. The pills helped me deaden the pain. And my life doesn’t have that kind of pain at all, now.”

The private plane had four clusters of four seats, two seats on each side facing each other with a table in between. Jamie and Claire always had a cluster to themselves. Ian, his bass tech, Jamie’s guitar tech Arch, and Angus’ drum tech always sat together. Colum kept to himself. Leaving Angus in the final cluster – which he shared with the two groupies he’d been surprisingly faithful to since Albuquerque. He hated flying, but the girls certainly made it easier for him – plying him with snacks, rubbing his back, squeezing him between them in the big seat.

Claire turned slightly, and inhaled at his temple. Kissed his earlobe as he shivered. “I know you miss it, Jamie. And it’s OK.”

His grip tightened on her hip. “You taste so much better,” he whispered. Eyes far away.

Claire wiped the corners of her eyes. “I just love him, Gillian. So fucking much.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so proud of him, for everything he’s done, and for the man he’s worked so hard to become. I’m not going to lie – sometimes it’s so damn hard to deal with everything. With all of his past shit, and how he still lets it mess with his head. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told him that none of it bothers me. Not the drugs, or the alcohol, or the destroyed hotel rooms, or what is probably hundreds of women. I can’t let any of that bother me, because that’s not the Jamie I know. But Gillian…”

Gillian reached across the table and took Claire’s hand.

“He makes everything so fucking hard sometimes. He starts to spiral, and he worries that I’ll have had enough and walk away. But then we just take a deep breath, and we look at each other, and all the bullshit is gone, and it��s just so easy again.”

“You need a day off!”

Jamie rubbed his hands over his face, exasperated. “I do have a day off tomorrow, Claire. You know as well as I do that there isn’t a show.”

She huffed, hands on her hips. “Not the point, Jamie. I saw the call sheet for tomorrow. You’re meeting with the label, and then with Colum to talk to the merch guy, and then the lighting team, and then you’re doing some local radio spots. That’s NOT a day off!”

He shrugged. “At least we can get dinner together and it won’t be shitty venue food.”

She pursed her lips, trying so hard not to scream. “Do you not remember the panic attack last night? You were sobbing in my arms, Jamie. It was really, really bad. And then you were so exhausted, but you wanted to be a hero and do the show anyway, and then you tripped over your fucking amp when you went on stage and could have broken your arm. Where would that leave us, hmm?”

He reached out to her – and she stepped back.

Not done with him yet. 

“You need rest, Jamie. Your body is going to shut down. And that won’t be good for anybody.”

“Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Beauchamp?”

A hint of a smile. Good.

“Yes. I’m your personal physician. I’m prescribing a day in bed, sleeping.”

He smirked. “OK. But only if you’re in it, too.”

She shrugged. “I’m not making any sense.”

“Yes you are,” Gillian smiled. “You said it’s intense between you – there’s no way it couldn’t be. Set aside his being a musician, and being in just about the biggest band in the world right now. Think about how and when you met. What had happened to both of you beforehand. All the changes you’ve made in both of your lives, in a relatively short timeframe. It’s overwhelming. And being on the road with him this summer had to have just upped that intensity.”

“We’re together non-stop. Which has been great, because we have so much time. We have what nobody else has, and I treasure that, I really do. But it’s also exhausting sometimes.” Claire paused, considering. “Nobody else knows what I’m about to tell you, but it’s another factor. We…we didn’t…” She closed her eyes. “We waited until our wedding night.”

Gillian’s silence was a gift.

“We were both so scared. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I think we were worried that…that it wouldn’t be good, for some reason. And it was good, Gillian. So fucking good. We both cried.”

“You’re everything.” He kissed her nose and cheeks and forehead and mouth over and over and over again, his tears mixing with hers. “My heart is going to burst.”

She hugged him tighter, nails digging into the flames tattooed on his shoulders. “Love you,” she whispered, breathless. “Love you love you love you love you…”

“I don’t need to tell you this, Claire, but I will anyway. It’s been a really good decision to spend so much time together, to really get to know each other, before you were married. Both of you deliberately wanted your relationship to be different from anything you’d known or done before. And now that last barrier is gone between you. So everything has changed, am I right?”

Indianapolis. Married one week. He couldn’t stop smiling at her, standing side stage during the show. She couldn’t stop giggling when he found her after the encore, threw her over his shoulder, and ran to his dressing room. His breath hot against her lips, breathlessly pleading for her to stay quiet, as they loved each other on the sofa and the techs and roadies and catering people and production staff bustled by the locked door.

“It has, Gillian. But in many ways it hasn’t. It feels like yesterday, and it feels like forever.”

New Haven. Married two weeks. The morning after a powerhouse show at the Coliseum. A penthouse suite overlooking the water. She had slipped out of bed in the dark, opened the curtains wide. Watched him watch her as she returned to bed. Held his gaze as they loved each other, dawn breaking over their faces.

“I get that. You’ve introduced another layer to your relationship. Probably the most complex layer that there is.”

Providence. Married two weeks and two days. Holding each other in a bath, Jamie’s hand splayed across her belly, Claire’s nose buried in the curtain of his hair.

“So, be patient with yourself, Claire. Cut yourself a break.” Gillian reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “And just enjoy yourself! My God – what an incredible life you have.”

Claire’s smile was the widest Gillian had ever seen.

“Holy shit. I married a rock star.”

“I heard that!”

And then Jamie was there, smiling, and kissing Claire’s smile.

Dougal hung back in the doorway. Exchanging smiles with his own wife.

“Come on, rock star. You said you’d help me hook up the new CD player.”

Jamie pulled back. Rubbed his nose against Claire’s.

“Hey, Dougal?”

Dougal crossed his arms. “What?”

Jamie stood. Squeezed Claire’s hands. Kissed her wedding ring.

“Love is a much better high than any drug.”

Dougal rolled his eyes. “I’ll put that on the new pamphlets we’re printing up for The Ridge. But the stereo won’t install itself. Help out, and I’ll even let you play that new stuff you brought.”

[p4p1l0nn]

“GHOSTS OF US”

pairing: johnny x reader

genre: angst.

a/n: [edited] just wanted to mention this johnny fic is a standalone read — no sequels in sight. author’s just feeling a bit whipped for johnny and decided to whip up another tale.

johnny, a solemn expression etched on his face, struggled to find words that could stitch back the fabric of their unraveling connection.

“i can't explain it,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “the spark, the fire we had — it's just not there anymore.”

a mix of pain and confusion in your eyes, implored, “was our love just a temporary illusion, johnny? something you could discard when it became inconvenient?”

johnny, grappling with the weight of his own choices, insisted, “i didn’t plan for this. i never wanted to hurt you.”

“but you have, johnny. every day, a little more,” you sighed, your voice trembling like fragile leaves in the wind. “it’s like watching the person i love disappear, leaving only a hollow shell behind.”

as the room seemed to tighten, johnny struggled with his next admission. “i thought i could find happiness elsewhere. i thought i needed something more.”

your heart breaking with each uttered word, questioned, “and what about me? wasn’t i enough? or was i just a placeholder until you found whatever it is you’re looking for?”

“i don’t have answers,” johnny confessed, a painful honesty in his voice. “all i know is that staying feels like a lie, and leaving feels like tearing my own heart out.”

you, grappling with the harsh reality, whispered, “so you choose to break us instead? to break me?”

“i’m sorry,” johnny uttered, his voice a fragile apology in the air. “i never wanted to be the one who stopped loving. but i can’t pretend anymore.”

as johnny’s apology lingered in the air, you took a deep breath, your heart heavy with the weight of acceptance. “i understand, johnny.” you whispered, your voice carrying the strength of bittersweet understanding. “sometimes, we have to let go to find our way back.”

silence. no response. johnny stood silently in the stillness, his shoulders weighed down by the burden of unspoken words.

your voice a mere whisper on the wind, repeated softly, “let it go, johnny.” the breeze, once a gentle companion, now carried a sorrowful tune, mourning the love that had slipped through the cracks. johnny, lost in the echoes of his own thoughts, mumbled another apology.

“let me go, johnny,” you urged, your words hanging in the air like fragile petals. “it’s been years.” in a heartbreaking twist, johnny was confronted with the truth — you had left this world long ago. the connection that seemed so real existed only in his own mind.

he knelt beside your grave, the cool breeze carrying whispers of forgotten memories. the tombstone stood as a stoic witness to the fading echoes of your shared past.

a lone willow, its branches weeping like johnny’s heart, cast shadows upon the weathered gravestones. the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving hues of melancholic purples and oranges painting the sky.

“johnny, do you remember the way i used to laugh?” your voice, like a ghostly breeze, wove through the tombstones, reaching the depths of johnny’s soul.

his eyes, filled with an unsettled sorrow, scanned the inscriptions on nearby graves. the silence was broken only by the distant chirping of the crickets and the soft rustling of leaves.

he hesitated, the weight of the question sinking into the earth beneath him. “i . . . i think so,” johnny murmured, his voice barely audible in the quietude of the graveyard.

“tell me, johnny. what was the sound of my laughter?”

his breath caught in his throat, and the distant city lights flickered. a fading sunbeam highlighted the engraved letters on your tombstone, casting a poignant glow.

“i . . . i’m sorry. i can’t remember,” johnny confessed, his words a fragile offering to the memory slipping through his grasp like grains of sand.

“it’s okay, johnny. let go,” you whispered, the words mingling with the wind that swept through the cemetery.

yet, johnny’s fingers tightened on the bouquet of flowers he held, a silent plea against the fading tide of recollection.

“it relieves me, you know,” you spoke softly, your voice a gentle melody. “to see you moving on, even if it means forgetting the little details.”

he looked up, his eyes meeting the translucent figure beside the gravestone. “but i don’t want to forget you. i can’t,” he pleaded, his fingers tracing the letters on the cold stone beneath him.

you extended a spectral hand, a comforting gesture. “johnny, it’s not about what you want. it’s about what we both need. i’m at peace, and i want you to find that too.”

he gazed into the emptiness of the gravestone, wrestling with his emotions. “but why? why do you want me to forget you?”

a breeze whispered through the trees, carrying your words. “because my love, clinging to memories that only bring you pain is no way to honour what we had. life is for the living, and you deserve happiness beyond the shadows of the past.”

johnny’s shoulders slumped, the weight of understanding settling upon him. “i just . . . i feel guilty. like i failed you.”

your form shimmered in a comforting light. “you didn’t fail me, johnny. you’ve carried the burden for too long. i want you to let go of this guilt and live a life where joy can bloom again.”

he nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “i’ll try.”

with a heavy heart, johnny placed a vibrant daisy on your grave, its simple and cheerful petals reflecting the brightness that you once brought into his life.

a wistful smile crossed his face as he said, “just like you, always spreading joy.” trying to lighten the heavy air, he added, “guess what? i’m thinking of bringing a lemon pie next time, even though you know i can’t stand that stuff. just for you.”

a gentle breeze stirred, as if carrying away your laughter, and johnny chuckled, finding comfort in the shared jokes that transcended the realms of the living.

with a final lingering gaze at your resting place, johnny whispered, “goodbye for now, love. until our laughter echoes together again.”

and with that, he walked away, the weight of memories lightening with each step, leaving behind a graveyard filled with flowers and a heart holding onto the sweetness of shared moments.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

SO WHAT'S THE REAL DEAL WITH ISRAEL? A history of a nation, a people, and a whole lot of conflict.

There is a LOT of misinformation going around in relations to the history of Israel and Palestine. I’m going to do my best to provide you with a comprehensive overview of this land and what’s going on. 

Is it going to be perfect? No. But it’s going to be a lot better than the crap I came across today of an infograph that was filled with wrong information set to fuel the desire that people seem to have to ‘be on the right side’ of a war. 

This is going to be LONG. But I’m going to try to make it interesting. I hope that at least one person that enjoys history gets something out of this. And please, feel free to ask questions! 

And I do mean questions and not just hate screaming out ‘facts’ that you read once from someone with no sources on a badly photoshopped image of two women talking about how Israel isn’t a real place. 

I’m not here to spread hate. I’m here to give you the facts so that hopefully things can be understood a little better and maybe we can start choosing to help and not simply fuel the fire of hate. 

I’m going to use a lot of Wiki links because I would like to encourage people to go read the articles and do a little wiki deep dive for themselves. It’s fascinating, and hey, you might learn a few random cool things on the way.  I'd also encourage further reading if you are really interested or have questions. Wiki can only get you so far.

I’m also going to avoid talking about religious history in depth and simply stick to the people. 

SO! Let’s get into it! Let's actually LEARN something for once!

We start with 14 tribes in the Bronze age 1175-900 BCE

We get into some sketchy history that dates back to King David. Early records are rough because of all the war and destruction from back then...also that it was 1175-900 BCE and record keeping was often difficult at best when it wasn't being burned down. 

Essentially, the 14 tribes did what everyone did back then (and arguably still do) and they fought. A lot. 

King David (1005 BCE - 968 BCE) is credited as the one who gathered up a group of people that had been fighting with another group of people and kicking the ever loving shit out of these people with slingshots (a standard weapon used by shepherds to fight off thieves and LIONS) and the use of a nice newly created metal called Iron (welcome to the Iron Age!) 

He got mythicised a bit and the whole David vs Goliath became the story. It's where record keeping got a bit off... But there is proof of this man existing. 

After the war, he united the split up tribes and became King of Judah and created the capital of Jerusalem ((hey look! They got their name because they were from Judah. They were the Judes. The Jews. The Jewish People. See how language evolves over time?). 

The next king, one you may have heard of, was King Solomon (968BCE-928BCE). He is credited as being in charge of the building of the first Temple. 

The first temple was an incredibly sacred place and where a lot of the things that defined and made the Jewish culture were kept. 

After he died, there was no clear succession line and the kingdom split into two. The Kingdom of Israel in the north and the Kingdom of Judah in the south.

Let's head on over to Wiki and see what they have to say about this piece of land. 

"The earliest known reference to "Israel" as a people or tribal confederation is in the Merneptah Stele, an inscription from ancient Egypt that dates to about 1208 BCE, but the people group may be older." 

So yeah, we got Israel mentions that date back to 1208 BCE. Before the splitting of the religions and people. 

But WAIT. What's that strip of land to the west called the Philistine states??? 

It isn't what you think it is. 

The Philistines were a group of people who lived in Canaan during the Iron Age, roughly 1175 BCE. 

They often had tiffs with their neighbors over land and identity, which often left their relations with Jerusalem not the best. 

Now, during this time, many of the settlements throughout what is now Israel was sparsely populated and the original inhabitants (the Canaan people) were dwindling and fading out. It wasn't uncommon during this time to come across completely abandoned settlements and ruins. 

Most of the population was centered around Jerusalem. 

You see, back in the late Bronze age, Egypt called all the shots. Take a look at the map down below. Look at all that Egypt territory! 

(keep an eye on that purple bit. It’s about to get important). 

Egypt had final authority on all land disputes in this area. They considered the whole area to be a part of their domain. Their records were a little....outdated. They still listed everything as being run by the Canaanites! In fact, it wasn't uncommon for the lingering Canaanites to run to Egypt any time they had issues with the other tribes and demand that it be settled in their courts.  When we start to see mention of Israel in Egyptian records, it is referring to a people (think ethnicity) and NOT a state! And the Egyptians were starting to see them as a problem. 

So what happened to the Canaanites? They got absorbed by the tribes that were taking over the land: Philistines, Phoenicians (Hey, I know that word from middle school history!), and the Israelites. 

In 539 BCE, a little nation called Neo-Assyrian Empire took the northern part of Israel. Then they slowly expanded into the Assyrian Empire. 

Wait a moment. Zoom in. Enhance. Look at Jerusalem hanging out all alone over there as an unconquered little square surrounded by orange. 

You see, Jerusalem was built as a fortress. A fully walled in city surrounded by unforgiving hill country, and land that worked in their favor. 

And then, Babylon happened. They were having a pretty good run and getting a pretty good reputation as being a HUGE thorn in the side of the rising empires. 

You see that bright purple bit on the other map up there? Yeah, it’s about to get a LOT bigger. 

(This is a VERY simplified map. Because this is early Neo-Babylon and it absolutely expanded further than this over time. )

They expanded around 911-505 BCE and wiped the Philistine people out. POOF. GONE. These people most likely were killed off and taken as slaves by Babylon and then assimilated into the Babylonian people. 

What's interesting is that the Hebrew Bible (which is a record of the Jewish People, their history, and their story of survival as well as laws) is the primary source of the mention of the Philistines due to the conflict with them. (It’s also mentioned in the Quran.) 

So what happened? 

In-fighting. Lots and lots of in-fighting. But that's over simplifying it. If you are Jewish, you know what I'm talking about (this is why there is a rule about how "A Jew is a Jew is a Jew". Division is what leads to weakening of a people and leads to what happens next). The fracturing of the kingdom and disputes over rulers and laws caused them to divide their loyalties and left them open to bad things. Very bad things. 

Remember Babylon? And how they wiped out the Philistines? 

They didn't exactly avoid Israel on their voyage to wipe out the Philistines. 

720 BCE, The Kingdom of Israel fell to the newly forming Babylonian Empire. 

King Nebuchadnezzar II grew tired of Jewish revolts against the new empire (see the unconquerable city of Jerusalem) and well... 

They attacked Jerusalem. This is called "The Fall of the 1st Temple" in Jewish history (589–586 BCE).

Jerusalem fell and the Jewish People were exiled (taken as slaves) to Babylon. This is recorded history! 

It was during this that the Israelite religion really started to form and come together. 

You see, when the temple was wiped out, it was a blatant attempt to destroy not just a people, but a record of a people and erase them and all mentions of them from the face of the earth (See the Philistine people who pretty much only exist because of a few Jewish records about their disputes). 

But the people retained their stories in exile and really got together and formed the corner stone for the way the world's first Monotheistic religion worked: Judaism. (People of Judah. Get it? It's based on a people from a place!) 

The exile lasted for a long....long time. Exile not just as slaves, but with strict laws that forbid the Jewish people from setting foot in their old land. 

What happened next? King Cyrus! (At this point, Persia existed 550 BCE). 

I'm not going to get into the history of Persia (though it is FASCINATING and I recommend you look at it if you want to know the history of the middle east.) 

Now good king Cyrus told the Jews that they were all free to go in 538 BCE. So naturally the Jewish people packed up and made a run for Judah. 

This was called "The Return to Zion". 

What does that mean? 

"Zion is a placename in the Hebrew Bible, often used as a synonym for Jerusalem as well as for the Land of Israel as a whole." 

So that’s where that word originated from! 

OH. You know what else is called Zion? Mount Zion. A mountain located to the south... It has SIGNIFICANT biblical meaning, as well as the location of strongholds and other things. Look it up. 

So, the Jews were allowed to return to Judah, but it still fell under Persian rule. They were just considered a 'Self-governing Jewish Province". 

Some returned. Some stayed. They'd lived in Babylon so long that they figured they had made a home there. I’m also willing to bet that there was reluctance to leave due to 1. The great distance they had to travel (like some sort of…exodus?) and 2. Fear of it being a trick and getting captured again. Hmmmm…. Sounds like a familiar story? 

You may be asking yourself about Egypt right about now. What's this exodus and ten commandment thing and the plagues and all that fun business I heard about in the bible/torah/Quran. (Hi Moses! in Hebrew his name is Moshe. In the Quran it's Musa! But in Muslim, it's a different story and not exactly the familiar one against Pharaoh!) 

Well, I'm not going to get too deeply into the religious stories for a lot of reasons, but a lot of the original Bible (old testament)/Torah was based off of stories told while the Jewish people were in exile in Babylon! They told these stories as a way to keep their faith, traditions, and cultural identities alive while being forced to assimilate. (The story of Noah and the flood mimics a Babylonian flood myth: Gilgamesh Flood! It's a fascinating read). 

But that isn't to say that Judea didn't have complicated and often nasty relations with Egypt. 

But, as the Jewish people slowly started to return to Judah, a more distinctive Jewish identity, culture, and religion started to form. 

And it was at this time that the Second temple was built. 

This is where things are going to start getting complicated. 

Second temple period! (520 BCE-70 CE) 

Because of what happened in Babylon, it became more important than ever to revise how they did things. 

The second temple became a bigger deal and the way the city was run changed. 

Hey look, Persia has a new king! And he's not liking what he's seeing in Judea. These guys are starting to get a little too big for their britches. 

BUT WAIT! Look over there! It's Alexander the Great! And he's conquered Phoenicia and Gaza! 

The Greek Syrian empire is starting to spread out. But there's a small truce with Judea. They’ll protect them from Persia and the Jews can keep doing their thing as long as they aren't a problem. 

However, the Seleucid Empire is starting to push into Judea and take control. The Seleucid empire was a Greek power during the Hellenistic period (312 BCE) founded by the Macedonian Empire...Ruled by Alexander the Great. And they are big into worshiping other gods and forcing people to worship their gods and rulers. This is a big no no for the Jewish people and kingdom of Judea. 

They start to send envoys to Greek trying to get the rulers there to listen to them. It’s not long before their envoys start coming back with bad news….and then stop coming back. 

The Jewish people have seen this before. 

And guess what? Jerusalem has become a problem. They aren't liking all the Hellenistic influence happening in Judea or the fact that the empire is starting to put a stranglehold on them. 

Alright, all my Jewish people? It's time to revolt with the Maccabees! (167-140 BCE) Jerusalem was under siege and the walls are breached! The city is taken and the temple has been captured by the enemy. 

Remember about the hostile countryside I mentioned earlier? 

Time for some Guerrilla warfare! The Maccabees retake the city and spend 8 days fixing up the temple after it was desecrated and all they got is just a little oil that stretches out way longer than it should have lasted (Hanukkah cliff note story version). 

But, there are other powers that are threatening them. Egypt has fallen and the Seleucid Empire is pretty pissed at them. 

We get revolt after revolt. Judea wants the Greeks gone and Rome is the power to do it.

140 BCE - 63 BCE. The Hasmonean dynasty takes control of Judea. They expand outward. 

The Hasmonean dynasty was a ruling dynasty of Judea that is WAY more complicated than I'm willing to get into because I barely understand it. But here it is if anyone wants to take a crack at it. 

Basically, with the Seleucid Empire falling apart, Judea gained autonomy and expanded into neighboring regions (Perea, Samaria, Idumea, Galilee, and Iturea). 

The Roman Republic stepped in at some point and it became a "client state" of Rome. 

Now, those of you that know your Greek/Roman history know that some big power changes are starting to happen. 

Enter King Herod (37 BCE) (And all the Christians in the room say BOOO.) 

Now SOME of you may be paying attention to the dates. We stopped going down and started going back up. 

All the Christian’s here know what that means. A certain Jewish man has been born, caused problems for the Romans, and then was killed by the Romans for causing problems. 

We now have the birth of Christianity. At this point it’s just seen as a division of Judaism and not a real separate entity. 

We got Julius Caesar and Pompey and Mark Antony and Augustus happening over there in Rome and Judea is doing its best to stay alive and independent. They need protection from the other places that are trying to take them out and they know Rome is the key. So they make deals with one ruler only for that ruler to be killed and replaced by other rulers. It's getting hard for them to keep up. 

6 CE Rome is their ally. 44 CE Rome sends someone to preside over them and Judea is considered a "Minor province." 

Powers are changing hands so fast that no one knows who is in charge anymore. 

The Hasmonean Kingdom eventually falls, but the Jewish desire for independence continues. Only now, they are at war with Rome. 

This whole time period is a cluster of problems and it’s honestly hard to keep up with who was allies and in charge and ruling and expanding and fighting. Just know that Caesar wasn’t the only one getting knifed in the back and by the time a face was stamped on a coin there was a new face in charge. It was rough. 

The important thing to know is that in the year 70 CE, Rome besieged Jerusalem. 

Emperor Titus was done with the Jewish issue. 

They held out as long as they could. And then the walls fell. 

The city was burned and the temple was looted and burned. The majority of the population that wasn't killed in the fighting was outright massacred and the rest were taken as slaves. 

The Jews that managed to make it out of the city ran for the countryside and hillside. Many were hunted down and killed by waiting soldiers. The Jewish population was sold and scattered across the roman empire. 

The loot taken from the temple was paraded through Rome with the slaves. They even made a monument for it! 

Arch of Titus, which still stands in Rome today. You can see them carrying the holy Menorah through the streets. 

There is plenty of Archeological evidence that supports what happened at the destruction of Jerusalem. 

Massive stone collapses from the Temple Mount's walls were discovered laying over the Herodian street that runs along the Western Wall. 

It's theorized that 1.1 Million people, the majority of the Jewish people, were killed during the siege. 

I can't convey enough just how big this event was. 

All Jewish people were forbidden from setting foot in Judea. 

We now come to 73 CE, Christianity is considered its own distinct religion. 

So what happened to the land? 

All the Jews were gone. Banished, enslaved, or dead. So who got the land? 

Well... Firstly, the city of Jerusalem was gone. When Rome wanted something gone, they made it gone. 

There was rubble and not much else. 

Know what else they did? The forest was burned down. The land was razed to a point where even today, it is still struggling to recover. 

Jewish areas around Jerusalem were systematically destroyed one by one. There were still uprisings here and there, but they were quickly put down. 

The Roman emperor Hadrian decided that he'd had enough of revolts and set out to destroy Judea once and for all. And while he did kick it in the teeth, he never succeeded in destroying the people. (They got real good at surviving and real stubborn about not getting eradicated). Small Jewish areas did survive in various outlier areas and small farming places that were otherwise overlooked. But life was certainly not made easy for them.

Judaea was changed to Syria Palaestina. 

Sound familiar? Two empires that were enemies to the Jewish people. Remember when I said the Greek records were really out of date and still listed the Canaanites as in charge of the area? Well… They also still called the area Palestina.   You see, Hadrian got the name "Palaestina" from Herodotus' Histories from nearly 500 years before. But Herodotus only called the strip of land along the coast "Palaistine" after the Philistines. He wasn't referring to all of Judaea. And the reason Herodotus called that strip of coastline "Palaistine" was because the Philistines were Mycenaean Greeks, so he was recognizing a (long since dead) former settlement of Greeks. (When Rome wants you gone, they want you GONE and to suffer).

Rome built a colony on the ruins of Jerusalem, Aelia Capitolina. Eventually, former Judea became a Christian pilgrimage and was settled by Christians. The land became known as Palestine. 

Not what you were expecting, huh? Bet you didn’t think the Christians would get involved in this Jewish vs Muslim issue. 

So 900 BCE to 70 CE, it belonged to the Jewish people (with the brief exception to the period of exile to Babylon). 

Then the Christians took over from Rome when Christianity took over and mass conversions started to sweep the world. 

Eventually, the population became a mixed bag of Romans and migrants from nearby provinces. 

361-363 CE - The Roman Emperor says the Jewish people can return to Jerusalem to rebuild the temple. In fact, he encourages it! He’s excited about it and starts to fund it and gathers up all the leaders, who are confused but cautiously optimistic. 

The Emperor is assassinated before anything gets underway and the Jewish people are banished from the holy land again. 

438 CE - Jews are now allowed to visit the Temple site. Note how it's visit, not live. A few times a year they are let into the city to visit where the Temple once stood so they can pray, then they are forced to leave again. 

Oops! Back up a it! What’s happening over there during all this? It’s the 7th Century and Islam has now become a major religion! Any Jews hanging out in the Arabian Peninsula? Convert or get out. They’re going to keep their eye on what’s been happening with Rome, the Jews, and the Christians in regards to ‘Palestine’. 

After all, Islam is a cousin to Judaism and they do share similarities to the holy sites. 

And there have been MANY wars over the holy sites. Sieges, betrayals, false alliances, and an overall repeated attempt to eradicate and massacre people over the land.

Now, we all know the Roman Empire eventually fell. But the Jewish people? Still banished. They became the Diaspora. Attempting to settle in place after place until they are either massacred, converted, or kicked out. They have no home. Just a place to sit for a bit until the next massacre forces them to flee. 

That's not even getting into the Crusades of the Christians against Islam in Palestine 1095-1291!! 

So... Skipping over a LOT of history and massacres and terrible things....

Oh boy oh boy. I'm going to skip a LOT. Because the crusades are a mess of WTFery and I'm not writing a thesis here (right?). 

But... 1917, enter Britain. Because of course Britain has to get involved at some point. You wouldn't be telling a world history tragedy story without Britain somehow getting involved. 

They take control of Palestine from the Turks. Basically, WWI just ended and the Ottoman Empire lost big time. Their punishment? Britain now rules their land (I’ll get to that in a bit). 

A decree is issued establishing Palestine as a national home for Jewish People, so long as nothing is done to cause prejudice or remove the civil rights or religious rights of the existing people that live there (Non-Jewish communities). 

Many Jewish people interpret this to mean that ALL of Palestine is now a Jewish State. 

1921: Britain changes their mind. All of Palestine east of the Jordan River is closed to Jewish settlement, but not to Arab settlement. 

Oh boy. 

1923: Britain says Arabs can immigrate but NOT Jewish people to Syria and Lebanon. 

What? What are you doing Britain? 

Remember that Western Wall rubble that was found in Jerusalem? The last remains of the Temple? By 1929: Muslims and Jews have been fighting over that wall for ages. Riots break out in Palestine and Jewish people are massacred. 

Annnnnnd that takes us to 1933 when Hitler rises to power. Jewish people everywhere attempt to start to emigrate and flee to what they hope are safe countries. 

1939: British government limits Jewish immigrants to 10,000 a year. Jewish people are trapped and the Holocaust catches up. 

1945-1948: Post Holocaust refugees try to find the only place that they may call home: Palestine. The British government detains them and prevents their entry. 

1946-1948: Things start to get violent in Palestine and British rule is unsure if they want Jews there or not. 

1947: the UN approves the creation of the Jewish State and an Arab State in British ruled Palestine. 

1948: Israel declares independence as a Jewish State and opens up to all Jewish people trying to find a safe place to live after the Holocaust. Essentially, it becomes a refugee state and if you are Jewish in any manner of the word, you are now a citizen and have a country to escape to when the massacres happen. 

A Jewish Exodus from Arab and Muslim lands results as they flee or are expelled. 

Egypt invades and Israel holds fast, expanding its borders as a result. 

Egypt continues to attack and threaten Israel until the Six Day War in 1967 when Israel captured the West Bank

(Pictured here)

The West Bank is considered the heart of Palestinians. This is known as the Gaza Strip. 

Many Israelis see this area as their ancestral Homeland. Many Israeli settlements are starting to push into this area in a ruthless attempt to take it back. I DO say ruthless because they have been using violence against those living there and farming there. 

There is international law that states that this area is off limits to Israelis. 

"1890: The term "Zionism" is coined by an Austrian Jewish publicist Nathan Birnbaum in his journal "Self Emancipation" and is defined as the National movement for the return of the Jewish people to their homeland and the resumption of Jewish Sovereignty in the Land of Israel. "

Now, the term Zionism has taken on different roles and meanings over the years. I mentioned above what the word means and comes from. But it was later claimed by right wing Israelis who want the Arab nations out of Israel. It was later taken back again to being used as a simple declaration of nationalism for the right for Jews to have a place to call their own. 

It's...complicated. I think Zionism can only really be defined by those who claim they are Zionists. Which ideology they follow may vary and much like any notion of nationalism, there are problems and dangers. 

Is it wrong to be a Zionist? Depends. But the answer is not a straightforward yes or no. 

The Jewish people deserve to exist in a state. But so do the Palestinians. 

Let's talk about Palestine! 

Historically, you got nothing until Judea is destroyed and the people are taken as slaves and killed in 70 CE. 

Then you have a bunch of Christians wandering around it declaring all the historical sites to be theirs. Which, since Christianity comes from Judaism, they happen to share a lot of the same spiritual and historical sites. 

But so does Islam.

There are repeated revolts, wars, disputes, and claims to the area by MANY different factions. 

Many times the Jewish people attempted to retake the area only to be put down again and again. 

In the late 6th Century, Islam was founded. They conquered Palestine in 636. Unlike previous rulers, they allowed Jews and Christians the freedom to practice their religion in peace.... but they had to pay a special tax and be submissive to Muslims. But, they did lift the centuries long ban on Jews being banished from Jerusalem. 

Guess who wasn't a fan of all this? 

Time for Crusades to 'liberate' Jerusalem from the Muslims. 

European Christians campaigned against Muslims to reconquer the 'Holy Land' of Palestine. 

Hey look! The Ottomon Empire (1466 CE) decided to show up! 

As I mentioned above, the Ottoman Empire had sided with the Germans and lost. They were driven from Palestine and British rule took over. 

Remember how I mentioned that the British government declared Palestine to be a Jewish State in 1916? Well it turns out that just one year earlier, in 1915, it had been declared an Arab State in which the UK agreed to recognize Arab independence. BOTH declarations were seen as giving full control to either the Jewish People or the Arabs. 

Good job Britain. Way to do what you always do and cock it up. 

Here’s the biggest problem with saying that you side fully with Palestine. Internationally recognized terrorists political movement of: Hamas. 

Hamas is an Acronym that translates to 'Islamic Resistance Movement'. 

It's a political military movement that governs parts of the Gaza Strip. 

They have taken charge and governed the Gaza Strip since 2006 and have periodically attacked Israel. They promote Palestinian Nationalism in a strictly Islamic context. 

In fact, they propose that Israel NOT be recognized as a state and that a strictly Palestinian State be formed. 

All the truces they offer to Israel over the years? Incredibly Antisemitic. They have carried out numerous terrorist attacks against the citizens of Israel and continue to 'advocate' for the return of Palestine without Jews. 

They tend to be the 'dominant political force' in Palestine because of their anti-israel stance. They pretend to want a two state solution, but will repeatedly reject talks and demand "From the River to the Sea". Their end goal is to remove ALL of Israel and return the entire region to Palestine, thus making it an Islamic State. 

It’s important to know that this is a radical group that unfortunately has a lot of control and uses its own people to terrorize and hide behind in an effort to bring about fear and hate and death. The actual Palestinian people do not deserve that. 

It’s also important to know that the Israeli people do not all support their own government or leaders who have decided to take up an extremist approach to attempting to eradicate the terrorist movement. 

MANY Israeli and Palestinian people believe in trying to find a negotiation that will benefit both sides and share a land that in a long lengthy way does represent three major religions. 

It is important to know what Charities are supporting. Where the money is going, and who is only furthering violence on both sides. 

It’s also important to know your history. 

When I was little, If you said someone was Jewish, I imagined a white European man. Why is that the common image of a Jewish person? How is it possible to be a colonizer if your people come from that country in the first place? 

So I'm going to ask you a question, and I REALLY want you to think about this. 

If someone owns land and comes from a land, they are forcibly removed from the land for a LONG amount of time, someone else comes in and makes a home of this land and lives there for a long time, and then the first people want that land back.... Do they become colonizers? Are they wrong? Do they not deserve their land back?

If you think the answer is yes, you need to go have a conversation with the Native Americans. 

BUT, as we all know... What do you do about the people that currently own and live on that land that was stolen from the first people? Maybe you didn't do the stealing, but you acquired stolen property and if you give it back then now you have nowhere else to go.... What sort of conversation needs to happen now? How do you solve this problem? 

If you made it to the end, I thank you so much for taking the time to be curious about history and how it impacts current events. If you have questions, please let me know.

[kamisatomay018]

Until We Reunite..

A Kamisato Ayato Fanfiction

Warnings: modern au, mentions of character death and violence, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, reincarnation themes. Ayato x fem!reader (reader is named Sakura)

This one’s gonna be pretty long!

“A..Ayato…” you whispered softly, voice broken with pain as you reached out your bloodied hand towards your husband, tears streaming down your cheeks. “S..Sakura..forgive me..I couldn’t..protect..” he cried softly, barely managing to crawl towards you, holding your hand. Both of your bodies were filled with slashes and wounds, blood spilling uncontrollably ruining the expensive silk clothes that once shone brightly, adorning you both. You both knew this was the end, that you both were going to die. At least by the grace of God, you would die together. You weakly reached out your other hand to him, cupping his cheek. “Don’t..blame yourself my love..this is not your fault..nor is this the end of our love.” His pain filled amethyst eyes stared at you, somehow trying to pull you closer despite how badly wounded he was. “Will we meet each other again, perhaps in a better time?” He whispered weakly, not wishing to part with you. How cruel fate was, snatching away his happiness from him just when he had found it. You mustered up a small smile, nodding as you felt your energy being drained away, your heartbeats fading into nothingness. “I promise..we will find each other again in another life. I am forever bound to you, Kamisato Ayato..” Taking deep ragged breaths, he managed to place a last kiss on your forehead, holding you close as his own life force started giving away. “Until we reunite my love..” And just like that, you both breathed your last, buried in a bloodied embrace and an unfulfilled promise..

500 years later

There he stood, as elegantly as ever, his messy blue hair, classy outfit and AirPods in his ears. His bag hung loosely down his right shoulder as he stood leaning against the wall, engrossed in his phone completely unaware of the number of girls fangirling over him, their eyes dreamy and filled with daydreams of this immaculate man, or so they thought. After all, Kamisato Ayato was the smartest boy in college. You too, were no different except the fact that you were way more subtle and decent than the other girls present around. You had been crushing over Ayato for around 2 years now, but of course you could never confess. He was the epitome of perfection, class and elegance, and he was no doubt very rich. Yet his demeanour was that of a gentleman, he was eloquent and an excellent student. It wasn’t like you were just some random student, on the contrary you were beautiful yourself, but you were very different. Unlike everyone else, you preferred a simplistic lifestyle, without any makeup or heavy accessories. You were always clad in simple yet classy clothes, and never attended college parties or fests. Being around crowds was just not your cup of tea, you would much rather spend that time in the library, reading about ancient civilisations and historic records. You were a history major after all, while he was a business management student.

In your eyes, you both were worlds apart. You weren’t as rich as him, not were you as popular as him. You both were…acquaintances at best, having collaborated twice when he, to your utter surprise, had requested your help in his project. He wished to show in his detailed project the future prospects of creating devices that can decipher ancient texts and inscriptions. His particular interest was in the ancient civilisation of Narukami, which had fallen to a Great War. He needed someone who could provide him with honest feedback on his idea, and after doing his own research, he decided that you were the most capable person for the job. You were a top student in your major, and had done multiple research papers on inazuman history. You still remember the way your infatuation had just grown during the time you were helping him, but alas, all good things must come to an end, and so did your collaboration. Ever since then, you both never had the chance to interact, except sharing courteous smiles when bumping into each other in the corridors.

Sighing softly, you shook yourself out of your thoughts. “He can’t be yours Sakura!” You kept reminding yourself, making your way to the library. It was way better to distract yourself in reading than get distracted by the handsome features of Ayato. Walking through the isles of your large campus library, your eyes searched for a book you had been waiting for, ‘The Tales Of Narukami’, which had become a best seller recently. Your eyes lit up as you found the book, but then you mentally groaned seeing the book kept so high up in the rack. “Oh for god’s sake..” you mumbled, standing on your tip toes to try and reach the book, but to your dismay, you could not reach it. As you were about to give up, you saw an elegant hand easily grab the book, adorned with a gold and platinum ring, and a limited edition Rolex.

“Here you go.”

Oh gosh you knew this voice all too well. The same deep voice that gave you butterflies in your stomach, the same voice that made your heart skip a beat and the same voice you yearned to hear every single day. You turned around to face him, gasping softly at the close proximity between you two as you timidly reached out to take the book, trying not to blush right in front of him. What you didn’t notice was the way Ayato’s amethyst eyes flickered with amusement and adoration. Ah if only you knew how adorable you looked with your pink cheeks. “Thank you so much Ayato.” You mustered the courage to look into his gorgeous lavender eyes that shown ever so brightly. Gosh he was so perfect, so tall and handsome, leaning over you effortlessly. “Don’t mention it Sakura.” He gave you his charming smile, stepping back leaving space between you both. You immediately felt this sense of disappointment as his warmth and scent left you, but you were careful not to let it show.

You smiled softly, heading to an empty table in a corner of the library and to your utter confusion, Ayato followed you, sitting right in front. “I do hope you don’t mind me taking some of your time? There are a few things I wish to discuss with you.” He spoke, his voice soft and eyes tender as he gazed at you. “Oh of course not, please tell me what it is that you wish to discuss.” You watched as he placed his hands on the table, adjusting his posture. “Well then- I will not beat around the bush. I wish to…take you out on a date.” What? What did he just say? It was very clear by your expressions that you were absolutely dumbfounded. Ayato found it so endearing that he wished he could click a picture and save it for himself. “Huh?” Was the only thing that you could say. Were you dreaming? Your absolute crush was asking you out on a date?

Ayato let out an amused chuckle as he nodded, ever so gently holding your delicate hand into his larger and warm one. “I know this may seem very sudden, but truth be told, I have been infatuated by you for quite some time now..So Sakura, will you do me the honour of being my date?” That’s it, you could no longer hold back your smile. You blushed profusely, butterflies swarming your being as this moment felt like a dream come true. “I…I would love to Ayato..” His smile visibly brightens, making him look heartbreakingly handsome. Of course, he knew you would say yes, but hearing you say it felt even more surreal. “I am truly delighted to hear that. If you are free this Saturday, I can arrange something that will definitely be to your liking.”

You smiled shyly, nodding. “Saturday sounds good.” “Great! Well then how about you give me your number, and I’ll come to pick you up on Saturday?” You became flustered at how gentlemanly he was, stuttering. “Oh! You..you needn’t go through so much trouble-“ He holds you hand again, silencing your words. “It is no trouble, it is but proper etiquette. Besides, where I’m gonna take you will be a little surprise~” You ended up giggling shyly, and your melodious giggles made Ayato’s heart flutter. Eventually you agreed, giving him your number and assuring him that you’ll send him your address. “Well then I’ll take my leave, my class is about to start. I’ll see you soon Sakura.” “Goodbye Ayato!” You smiled happily at him, waving sweetly as he left.

You still could not believe what had just happened. You got up, issuing the book to be borrowed as you headed home, feeling so giddy and excited. The whole day you lay in bed, kicking your feet like an excited child. Just then you heard your phone’s notification, and to your delight, it was Ayato. You quickly opened his texts, a smile adorning your features.

“Hey, it’s me, Ayato. I hope you got home safely.”

“Hello Ayato, and yes, I did reach home safely.” urgh, how is he this perfect and such a gentleman??

“I am glad to hear that. And I am looking forward to seeing you again.”

“So am I.. ah which reminds me, here’s my address!”

“Noted, I’ll be there by 4 pm. Dress up a little, I’m taking you somewhere fancy.”

“What- Ayato you don’t need to!”

“Oh hush, it’s nothing. I want you to have the best date ever. After all, first impressions matter~”

“No need to worry about that Mr. Kamisato, you’ve already made an excellent first impression..”

The next 2 days pass by in a flash, only this time, you saw Ayato way more frequently as he would come to visit you in the library, listening to you fondly as you talked animatedly about the history of Inazuma. He loved the way your eyes shone due to how passionate you were about the subject, and your knowledge impressed him. Likewise, he would also share his interests with you, once even bringing his favourite boba tea for you. The increasing closeness between you both had become a hot topic for gossip at college, as a lot of girls envied you, and a lot of guys envied Ayato. Oh well, neither of you cared as your feelings for one another kept blossoming.

Saturday arrived finally, and you looked at yourself in the mirrror, wearing a beautiful floral dress with stilettos and your hair down. Grabbing your wallet and phone you rushed outside hearing a car honk, which was probably Ayato. Upon stepping outside, your eyes landed on the immaculate man seated in the car, wearing a black shirt with black pants, his hair falling gracefully on his right shoulder. Oh he looked so good that you couldn’t handle it. He was indeed God’s finest creation, each feature of his perfect self crafted with care and time. You smiled shyly, sitting in the car beside him.

Ayato meanwhile, was completely awestruck by your beauty. You looked so magnificent that all he wanted to do was wrap you in his arms and kiss you until you were breathless, he just wanted to make you his girlfriend already. “You look…so beautiful Sakura..simply stunning..your beauty always amazes me.” You blushed at his words, and to his delight your cheeks turned as pink as the flowers on your dress. “Thank you Ayato, you look reallly handsome too..” He chuckles at your words as you both set off for your destination. “Why thank you. Now as for our destination..Well have you ever heard of the Grand Narukami Museum?” Your eyes widened in disbelief at his words. “What..no way..Ayato that is the biggest and most sought after museum! Its tickets are literally impossible to get! How did you even-“

Ayato simply laughs at your babbling, shaking his head. “It was not that difficult really, my mother is a trustee of that place. When I told her that my date was such a master at history, she was more than pleased to let me take you there. I figured you would enjoy being there.” You felt your heart melt, and you swore you just fell so in love with him. “Oh Ayato..I cannot thank you enough..I’ve dreamed of going to this museum!” “Is that so? Well then, I’m going to fulfil many such dreams of yours, if you’ll let me.” You blush once again, nodding “I would like nothing more than that..” He smiles at your words, gently holding one hand of yours, intertwining it with his. You felt instant shivers at his soothing touch, his warm and larger hand engulfing your giving you a strange feeling of safety and comfort. How was he able to have such an effect on you already?

After a while the car stopped as you both reached the biggest museum in all of Inazuma, one where getting entry was next to impossible for a common person due to the precious and mysterious artefacts present here. It is said that there are countless precious objects from the ancient Narukami civilisation that archaeologists and historians have still not been able to classify. You still could not believe that you were getting a chance to see this place for yourself. “Shall we M’lady?” ayato’s soothing voice snapped you out of your trance as he offered you his arm like the gentleman he was. “Yes, yes we shall..” holding his arm gently, you both made your way inside. Upon spotting Kamisato Ayato, the guards and staff bowed to him, as you both reciprocated the action. “Sir Kamisato, we welcome you. Everything you had requested has been arranged. We hope you both have a wonderful time.” He nods with a polite smile “You have my utmost gratitude.”

As you two made your way inside the museum, a soft gasp left your mouth due to how much you were in awe of this place. “Oh my god…this is..beyond beautiful..” Ayato smiles at you, not disturbing your train of thoughts, rather choosing to admire you in this moment. He loved how you gained happiness from such simple and knowledgeable things rather than materialistic ones. You were unique in his eyes, and the fact that you stood out from the crowd drew him towards you. He showed you around the museum, your enthusiasm was contagious as you excitedly spoke about all the relics you recognised, even leaving the staff of the museum in awe of your knowledge. “Miss, your extensive knowledge is truly remarkable. We have never seen someone identify these objects so quickly.” The manager spoke, making you flush. “Ah I..i just am very interested in the history of our land that’s all..” Ayato chuckles at your modesty, holding you closer with affection. “She is indeed extraordinary..”

The two of you had a lot of fun there, as your bond only seemed to grow stronger. The last section of the museum was the portraits of the rulers of the ancient civilisations, which was an area not many were allowed to see. But since you were with Ayato, anything was possible. “This is the final section of our tour I believe.” Ayato spoke, his eyes roaming around the countless portraits. “Oh my…these are all original paintings from back then!” You left Ayato’s side to walk ahead, eyes shining. He chuckled too, walking behind to a section of paintings.

As you were walking, you came across a portrait that made you stop dead in your tracks. There stood a man, wielding a hydro sword and dressed in expensive silk robes, his blue hair and lavender eyes staring right into you. What on earth was Ayato’s portrait doing here? The resemblance was almost terrifying, making you turn around and look at Your Ayato, who was admiring a painting of the Grand Narukami Shrine. You stepped closer to the painting, reading the details. “Kamisato Ayato, head of the Kamisato Clan and Yashiro Commissioner of Inazuma. Murdered along with his wife in 1530 at the age of 28..” How come you had never read about this man anywhere? And…why on earth is he the exact same like the man you’re on a date with? The name, the features, everything…You stared up at the portrait again, and an unexplainable ache took over your heart, tears filling your eyes. It felt like you knew him, like you missed him dearly. You felt connected to him. But why?

Meanwhile, Ayato walked towards a portrait that made him stunned, as he froze on the spot. It was..you. A painting of you, only..you were dressed in a beautiful silk kimono embroidered with threads of gold, your hair made in an elegant bun. Your eyes were gentle, an expression of authority and elegance was visible on your face. What..what in Teyvat was going on? He searched for details of the portrait, reading softly. “Kamisato Sakura, First Lady of the Kamisato Clan and wife of the Yashiro Commissioner, Kamisato Ayato. Murdered in 1530 with her husband at the age of 26..” wait what? Kamisato Sakura? The name, the face, everything was the same. That was undoubtedly you, but how? And the Yashiro Commissioner had the same name as him? He looked at the portrait again, and winced as a dull pain struck his head. Countless emotions flowed through him the longer he stared at the portrait. Guilt, agony, anger, grief…

“Ayato..”

“Sakura!”

You both spoke at the same time, facing one another. You both were shocked again to see portraits of people who looked just like you, the resemblance so uncanny that it left you both speechless. “Ayato look..” you pointed at a portrait of the Kamisato couple, standing together in all their glory wrapped in a gentle embrace. Their eyes were full of love for one another, the joy visible on their faces. At that very moment the world spun around as you winced at the sudden headache you got, closing your eyes as countless memories flooded through your mind like an untold story forgotten in time..

“Do you take Kamisato Ayato to be your husband for all eternity?”

“Yes, I do”

“And do you take Kujou Sakura to be your wife for all eternity?”

“Yes, always.”

Ayato’s amused eyes flickered towards you, the all too familiar teasing smile adorning his features. “Daarin, how long do you plan on staring at me hm?” You blushed at his words, getting up to adjust his clothes and help him put on his coat. “Is it a crime for me to admire my husband Lord Kamisato?~” his melodious laughter filled your ears, as he held you close, placing a loving kiss on your forehead. “Of course not Lady Kamisato, I am all yours.”

“Ayato come on, take a break my love, you seem so tired. Let me make you a cup of tea.” He gave you a grateful smile, looking visibly tired from all the paperwork. “Thank you Daarin, you’re right, I should take a break..”

“I’m home my beloved!” “Ayato!! Welcome home, how was your trip to Watatsumi island?” He smiled lovingly, embracing you as he inhaled your scent. “It was successful, negotiations have been going smoothly.” You snuggled closer to him, basking in his warmth. “I’m so proud of you! Her excellency will be very pleased to hear this.”

“I love you Kamisato Sakura.”

“I love you eternally too Kamisato Ayato..”

“Sakura!! No, please don’t hurt her, leave her alone!” Ayato begged for the first time, crying as the enemies stabbed you, making you fall onto your knees, gasping for air. “NO!!” He shrieked, wanting to reach out to you but alas, the enemies surrounded him, enjoying the agony of the Yashiro Commissioner. He fought endlessly, his body filled with slashes and wounds, but it was of no use. In the end, he lost, thrown to the ground near you, bleeding profusely. “A..Ayato..” you whispered brokenly, reaching out your bloodied hand to him.

How cruel fate was, only giving you both 4 years of bliss until you both were brutally murdered on that fateful night, ending the legacy of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commission. That was how the downfall of the great empire of Inazuma began, as the two lovers breathed their last, dying in one another’s embrace with a promise left to fulfill…

You gasped audibly, tears falling down uncontrollably as all the memories of your past life came rushing back to you. As you blinked through your tears, you noticed you were sitting on the floor, embraced in a tight hug by Ayato, who also seemed to be crying endlessly. All the memories had come back to him, making him fearful of losing you again. It felt like yesterday when he saw you getting stabbed and kicked away, while he was helplessly surrounded by countless enemies. Both of you stayed like that for a long time, embracing each other as you shed tears for your past life, for all the memories you could have made if only you had lived. Tears that symbolised love, pain, loss and now, a fulfilled promise.

“Ayato..” you spoke after a long while, looking up at him. Now it felt so different, now it felt like you had known him all your life. You cupped his cheek softly, wiping away his tears just like you had all those centuries ago. “Dont blame yourself..” He cried bitterly, caging you in his arms. “It was all my fault, I could not protect you..everything was lost..we could have had so many more memories..” You smiled sadly, making him look into your eyes. His tear filled amethyst eyes hurt your soul, as you brushed his hair away. “We have an entire lifetime to make memories now. I told you, my soul is bound to you..that was not the end of our love. Look, we found each other again..” Those words put a smile on his face as he nodded, hugging you closer than ever. “Yes..our promise has now been fulfilled. We are reunited my love, and this time I promise, no one will ever come in between us and our love. This time, I’ll protect you until the end of time..”

As you both sat there, embraced in the safety and warmth of your arms, the portrait in front of you glowed, the smiles of your past selves widening a little. Your love was unending, having the power to transcend time. After all, your wedding vows to each other were that you would love one another for every eternity.

[catt-leya]

Nighttime || Rick Grimes 18+

Sooo this might be the sweetest fic I've ever written. I tried to make up for the loving words you wrote to me and I hope it's like you imagined it to be 💗 and again: thank you so much 💗💗💗

Original request here

About the fic: It's mainly fluff but it wouldn't be me if I wasn't able to at least mention a bit of smutty action 👉🏼👈🏼💗

Trigger: none (?) but a bit pregnancy at the end

Hospital

Shivering, you look around the hospital you've fled to and take a deep breath as you hear the pure silence. If there were living dead people walking around here, you should have heard them by now. 

In fact, this hospital may be the last place in this city that hasn't been completely overrun and razed.

Carefully you walk through the long and dark corridor, avoiding the cables hanging from the ceiling.

Perhaps you could find a reasonably safe space here to at least gather yourself and then move on to another city.

Maybe you could also find some supplies and get yourself....

Before you can finish the thought, you hear soft footsteps.

Immediately you stop, rooted to the spot, and try to figure out where the footsteps are coming from.

It is so oppressively quiet that you hear every step as if the source were only 2 meters away from you.

Your hands get sweaty and you take a silent step to the side to lean your back against the wall, listening strained for the sound that must be coming from around the corner to your left.

You force yourself to stay calm and figure out what it is first, firmly believing that if push came to shove, you could take on a walking corpse.

The air sticks in your lungs as the light flickers and the source of the footsteps becomes visible. 

A man dressed only in boxers and a hospital gown stops in front of the door facing him, staring at the inscription that you can't read from your position.

He doesn't look like he likes to eat people for snacks, but you've learned the hard way that that doesn't have to mean anything, so you still stay as quiet as you can and watch him slowly reach out for the door, from which a muffled groan can be heard.

Dead or not, don't let this guy open the door.

If need be, you can take him on, but certainly not the ones he'd most likely let through the door, so you take a big step toward him and yell, "No, don't."

He flinches violently and jerks his head around to look at you as if you were the undead.

Still keeping enough distance from him, you say, "Keep the door closed" hoping he's alive and understands what you've just said.

To your relief, he still looks like he's about to pick up his feet and run, but he replies, "What's behind there?"

The fact that he can speak is proof enough for now that he's normal, and you relax a bit.

Only now do you really look at him and discover a bandage wrapped around his waist, which you point to, "You're in the hospital for that, aren't you?"

Confused, he looks down at himself, as if he's forgotten that he doesn't look like he's just been here for a short visit, and then nods, "I got shot."

You take another cautious step toward him, "You have no idea what's going on. Can it be?"

Again he looks at you helplessly and confused beyond measure, "This must be a dream. A coma dream. I'm not awake at all."

Dryly you laugh out, "It would be nice. But no, you're wide awake and probably just slept through how it all started, Sleeping Beauty."

You feel tremendously sorry for the panic in his beautiful blue eyes, but the sooner he understands what's going on, the sooner you might have a helping hand, too. It goes against the grain for you to admit this, but the fact is that it might not be such a bad thing to have a man by your side who's a few heads taller than you.

Now that it's a matter of life and death, you can't afford to be picky, but you still ask again about his bullet wound, "Where did you get that?"

You hope he's not a gangster or a rapist. True, he doesn't look like it, but as you said before, you shouldn't just trust appearances.

His gaze slides over your body and he says softly, "I'm a Sheriff and I got caught in a shooting."

You exhale heavily and actually give him the benefit of the doubt, "Would you like to come with me? I can explain what happened while you were in a coma, Sheriff."

Farm

Smiling, you look to Dale sitting high atop his RV, "I can help you."

The old man loves being able to watch over everyone from above and you know that for a fact, but you love it at least as much as he does. That's why you don't even wait for him to answer and climb so far up to look over the edge at him.

He probably didn't even hear you and looks spellbound through his binoculars. With a furrowed brow you follow the direction he is looking and can see two people without recognizing who it is.

You clear your throat loudly and Dale flinches in surprise.

When he looks at you, you raise an eyebrow and grin, "I don't know exactly what you're looking at, Dale, but I doubt very much that it's a possible threat to our group."

Quietly, he murmurs, "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."

Confused, you brace yourself on the roof and sit cross-legged next to him, "What are you talking about?"

"See for yourself," sighing, he hands you the binoculars and you reluctantly take them to see what he's getting at.

It takes you a small moment before you find the two people he's been watching, and you bite your lower lip as you recognize Rick's curls and his back.

By the way he's standing, he's partially shielding the person he's talking to, but even from that, you know full well it's his wife Lori.

Sighing, you hand Dale his binoculars and shrug, "They're just talking. That doesn't have to mean there's trouble in paradise."

The old man next to you snorts in disbelief, "Girl, you haven't fallen on your head. Nothing at all is going well between those two anymore, and it's tearing our group apart piece by piece."

You know he's not wrong, but because Rick is your best friend, you keep your mouth shut.

But Dale really gets into it, "You can't tell me you don't see the way Shane looks at Lori. At some point, it's going to pop, and it's going to end badly."

You grit your teeth.

Of course you see it, and you have a guess or two about what happened when Lori thought Rick died in the hospital, but you don't know anything for sure, and you'd think it unfair to saddle Rick with more guesses and possibilities when he already has his hands full.

So you say unnaturally calmly, "Dale, you have no idea what they're talking about, and even if it's not a good conversation, Rick will make sure it doesn't turn into a big problem for the group."

Briefly, something flashes in your old friend's eyes and he sighs softly, "I know, kiddo. Rick is a good man. It's not for me to judge, but he deserves someone better."

Your eyes dart to the two figures in the distance, but they're gone and you shrug, "Possibly."

Silently you look at each other and you cry out softly when you hear Rick's voice from downstairs, "Darling? Are you upstairs?"

Dale grins broadly at you and murmurs, "Lori doesn't like it when he calls you that."

Unwittingly, your cheeks grow warm and you slap his upper arm, "Shut up."

Hectically, you scoot to the edge of the RV and look down at Rick: "Yep, what's up?"

The way he looks up at you makes your heart sink to the floor, and then when he also asks in a raspy voice, "Can I talk to you?" Wouldn't you know a situation where you wouldn't drop everything to be there for him.

You nod at him and smile at Dale: "I'll be back later."

But he shakes his head, "I'm not counting on it, kiddo."

You can't suppress the rolling of your eyes, and instead of answering, you make your way downstairs to Rick.

When you reach the last two rungs of the ladder, Rick grabs you by the waist and lifts you down from the RV.

Instead of letting go of you right away, he pulls you back against his chest and presses a kiss to your cheek, which makes you giggle softly and you lightly slap his hands to get him to let go of you, which he reluctantly does.

Holding you in his arms has always felt right to him, and he wouldn't stop anytime soon.

He just has to touch you as soon as you come near him. Whether it's an arm wrapped around your shoulder or even just a little touch on your lower back.

God, it's enough for him to pull a leaf out of your hair like this while you look at him with your beautiful eyes.

Gently, you stroke his chest with the flat of your hand, smoothing down his shirt, "What do you want to talk to me about, Sheriff?"

As you do, your eyes slide from his face to your hand and you notice how dirty his shirt has already become, "Rick? You're going out with Shane tomorrow aren't you? If you'd like you can give me your shirt then and I'll wash it for you...That is, of course, if Lori hasn't already offered."

You look back up at him and he just stares at you.

The RV is close behind your back and Rick is standing very close to you as he usually does, which adds a little too much tension to the situation and you take a step toward him to push past him on the left and maintain decorum.

For a brief and naive second, Rick thinks of something he shouldn't be thinking about and then in turn takes a step to the side as well before clearing his throat so as not to sound as hoarse as he probably would, "You want to wash my shirt?"

He sounds so surprised you chuckle, "You say that like it's something amazing. We're friends Rick. Of course I'll wash your shirt if you want. You're incredibly busy, so it's the least I can do, and I can help you out with it."

You grin at him, "And maybe I'm a little selfish too, because you're prettier to look at when you're wearing clean clothes."

His heart warms and he hasn't felt this way in a long time...so wanted and appreciated for all he has given up for the group.

And all because you offered to wash his stupid shirt.

He takes a deep breath and reaches for your hand, "Can we go to your tent, darling?"

Concerned, your grin falls from your face and you bite your lower lip, "Of course. Come."

Gently, you pull him behind you to your tent, which is set up near the others.

You realize this must be about the conversation Rick had with Lori, and Rick's grip on your hand is so incredibly tight that you can feel how agitated he is, and maybe a little afraid he's going to crush your fingers.

Even though you can barely move your fingers, you don't say a word about it and open the tent.

That's the moment Rick lets go of your hand and you crawl inside in front of him.

He doesn't really want to, but as soon as you're on all fours, his gaze slides to your butt and he squints his eyes hard, trying to keep it together.

Partly because he's still married, no matter what Lori has done, and partly because he doesn't want to jeopardize the friendship you have because of some knee-jerk reaction.

He adores you far too much for that.

So he forces himself to think clearly again and crawls behind you into the inside of the little tent.

Because Rick is so much bigger than you, he takes up an incredible amount of space in the cramped room, but you don't mind.

It's nice to have him close to you and you reach for his hands as if it were a matter of course, "So, what's up, Sheriff?"

His eyes are fixed on your hands as he mutters, "Lori slept with Shane when I was in the hospital where we met. She thought I was dead. She...I..." 

You squeeze his hands, "Shhhh, it's okay. Take your time."

He sighs softly and you gently tug on his hands, making him look up questioningly.

Slowly you lean back and as you lie flat on your back, you pull him down to you.

At first he hesitates, but when he looks into your loving eyes, he can't help himself and lets himself sink onto you.

Because the tent is so small, he doesn't try to crush you too, but you release a hand from his and press his head firmly but firmly to your chest.

Rick closes his eyes as his cheek comes to rest in the hollow between your breasts, expecting you to push him higher or a tad lower, but you don't seem to mind him lying on your breasts and as he hears your regular heartbeat, he relaxes more and more until he's able to get out coherent sentences again without bursting into tears, "You know what the real problem is, darling? Somehow I don't care that she slept with him. She told me and I didn't care. Shit, I even suspected it, and the only thing I thought about when she confirmed it, was how to get us all through the winter."

You stroke through his hair in slow motions and he leans harder into your touch, "And instead of supporting me, she tells me and expects a due response. As if I don't have a hundred other thoughts in mind. How twisted is that, please? I don't care about my wife and I'd rather think about the fact that I don't know how to handle the pressure of making life and death decisions. Decide your life and your death."

For a brief moment you wait to see if he wants to say anything else, but instead he presses himself tighter against your body, as if he can't stand to be away from you, and you tickle through his curls, which seems to please him as you whisper in a husky voice, "You're not twisted, Rick. You're giving it everything you've got, and there's nothing wrong or amiss with the way you feel. Don't beat yourself up because you might feel differently than it would be socially acceptable to react to a woman cheating on you. You feel what you feel and there's nothing you can do about that, nor do you have to."

You tug lightly on his curls, eliciting a soft groan from him before murmuring in a buttery smooth voice, "And yes Rick, you make choices but we all know you make the ones you feel are right and everyone sees your efforts. No one would ever blame you and you shouldn't blame yourself. You look out for us as best you can and in return I'll look out for you as best I can. I promise."

He feels tears coming to his eyes, and he's not really the type of man to start crying quickly. Especially not with a second person.

But it surprises him himself that he doesn't care with you and isn't ashamed at all as he buries his face between your breasts and lets out everything that's been building up since the hospital and lets you stroke his hair until he falls asleep on top of you.

Prison

You brush your hair out of your face as you step into the anteroom of your jail cells and hear Rick's raucous laughter.

When you see him sitting at the table with Hershel and Glenn, you can't help but smile broadly. Not too long ago, Rick was way too close to the abyss, and now seeing him so relaxed and at ease makes your heart leap.

Slowly you walk towards the happy group and frown as you watch Glenn waving his arms trying to explain something. The situation looks so funny that you don't notice the alcohol bottles on the table until now, and you realize why Rick is swaying and Glenn looks like he's fighting a battle against invisible flies.

But when Rick sees you he immediately tries to get up and almost knocks over the whiskey on the table, if Hershel hadn't grabbed it first.

Stumbling, he comes toward you and slurs, "Darlin'."

As soon as he can reach for you, he pulls you into his arms and you can't suppress a giggle, "Could it be that you're drunk, Sheriff?"

He keeps his hands on your hips as he pulls away from you and half turns to the people sitting at the table, "Am I? I don't know."

Hershel, who is the only one sober, throws me a pitying smile and I stand on my tiptoes to breathe a kiss on Rick's cheek.

Immediately he turns his attention back to me and I tug on his belt loop, "Will you let me go? I'd like to get some sleep."

The smile he gives me is mischievous and makes him seem much younger than he is, "Haven't you noticed?"

You frown and he winks at you awkwardly, due to the alcohol in his blood, "I never want to let you go."

Again you tug at his pants, "You probably don't even realize right now how incredibly wrong that sounded. On any level." Still, you can't stop laughing.

But just as he said, he doesn't let go of you and instead pulls you to his seat at the table.

He plops down in his seat and fits you tighter so he can pull you onto his lap, but you brace yourself, "Rick, I want to go to sleep."

You didn't know how good he was at pouting until now and you swallow hard as he looks at you with his blue eyes, "Darlin' please. Stay with me a little longer. Then I'll come to bed with you."

You sigh, "Rick..."

And he tugs on your hip again, "Please? I can only sleep with you."

You are well aware of the looks the others are giving you. Even though everyone knows that Rick and you share a bed, even though you're just friends, it's still strange to see him begging in this way while you're not alone.

With everyone else, he's always the somewhat cocky leader, and once he's alone with you, you feel like you could ask him to crawl on the floor and he'd do it for you.

You lower your voice a bit and stroke his dark curls, "That doesn't mean I'm kicking you out of bed, Rick."

You immediately see that he's ready to argue, but before he can say anything, Merl, who has recently come to live with you, walks in and laughs harshly, "So big Rick Grimes is begging to sleep in bed with a chick who won't even let him fuck her."

You couldn't care less what Merl normally has to say, but Rick is already not controlled when he's sober, and now that he's drunk, even the minimum level of control is lost.

Thanking God you react quickly enough to push Rick back onto his butt by the shoulders and hiss, "Shut up, Merl."

Grinning, he takes a step closer, "Oh come on. He can take it. If you don't want him anymore, you're welcome to come over to my place. It's just that I'm more into it when chicks beg me to fuck them."

You grab Rick firmly by the hair as he tries to get back up and drag him down as he growls, "You miserable asshole."

You look to Glenn for help, but he's looking spellbound at the scene in front of him and Merl is far from done, "What's Rick? Afraid you're going to sleep alone tonight?"

You can see it very clearly. You see when the last fuse blows on Rick and you grit your teeth and tug at his hair so hard that he has to look at you and you say quietly, "Forget him, Rick. I ain't going nowhere."

Merl laughs harshly and you wheel around to him, "And what's your problem? Do you really need it that bad? Laughing at Rick asking me to sleep in a bed with him and not having anyone with you yourself, am I seeing this right? You need to come on to me in that disgusting way, but let's get one thing straight: Before I come to bed with you, I'd rather sleep alone in the woods, and you know what's funny? You might think it's pathetic that Rick sleeps in a bed with me and doesn't nail me, but guess who's going to be lying in bed pressed up against a woman's body afterwards, touching me however he pleases? Right! Not you."

Merl stares at you with his mouth open and Rick is already starting to get up again when Hershel blinks several times and stands up, "Okay, let's all calm down and take a deep breath. Merl, I think it's best if you leave now."

For a brief moment, you think he's going to say something stupid again, but you glare defiantly at him and he softly growls something about "fucking whore" before disappearing and you drop onto Rick's lap with a deep sigh.

It stays quiet until you grumble, "Aren't you going to keep drinking?"

Rick wraps his hands around your stomach and pulls you closer to his chest, "Darlin'..."

Again you sigh, "Rick, give it a rest."

You don't feel like talking about it anymore, and as another attempt is made to address you, you turn your head in his direction and mumble lazily in his ear, "It's all right. If you're thinking about what Merl said, forget it. I like how soft you are to me. Only to me."

With the words, you kiss him briefly behind the ear and then turn your gaze back to the whiskey bottle, "Okay, I could use a drink."

All the while you remain sitting on Rick's lap, letting him push you back and forth when you sometimes get too heavy for him in the long run.

Only once do you slide closer to him yourself, but where he immediately grabs you tighter and slurs harshly in your ear, "Don't, Darlin'."

You know full well that your cheeks are getting hot and you quickly excuse yourself before he pushes you back into another spot.

The bottle doesn't last long, and as Hershel announces that he wants to get into bed, everyone else starts moving as well.

Rick, who had been swaying before, leans on you with his full weight and you're also drunk enough that you can't quite walk straight.

Giggling and stumbling, you drop onto the bed and you slide against the wall as you always do, while you kick your shoes off your feet and Rick unhandily peels himself out of his pants.

You watch him do it, as you have every time since you first fell asleep together.

It's not just Rick who can sleep better with you. You also love his weight on you and the heat he radiates.

Sluggishly, he crawls into bed with you and slides between your legs to rest his head on your breasts.

Under his lashes, he looks up at you, "Thank you."

You bite your lower lip and stroke his curls as you always do, "For what, Sheriff?"

Quietly, he clears his throat, "For what you said to Merl."

His hand slides over your hip bone and you feel the touch all the way down to your toes as you take a shaky breath, "It's just the truth."

He turns his head a bit and puts his hand just below your chest and for the first time you hope he would move his hand higher.

Even if it was just by accident.

But he stays still and mumbles, "Still. You didn't have to do that, and that's why I thank you."

You can't bring yourself to say a word, and you don't need to, because Rick falls asleep on top of you a short time later, too.

Alexandria

You stretch out on the bed and blink against the sun that falls into the bedroom you share with your boyfriend Rick.

Grumbling, Rick presses a kiss to your bare stomach and looks up at you from below, "Everything alright, darling?"

Grinning, you look into his scrunched up face and push his hair a little flatter on his head because his curls are sticking out in all directions, "Yes, Rick."

The golden light of the rising sun shines on him in a way that makes it look like he's surrounded by a halo, and you stare at him dreamily.

Never could you put into words how much you love him and have for a long time.

Already on the farm you were addicted to him, only you never realized it and then he told you in prison that he loves you and not only sees you as his best friend. Never having seen you only as his best friend and you couldn't help but fall head over heels for a relationship with the stubborn and impulsive leader of your group.

After the war with Negan, things are quiet and you enjoy the mornings you spend together in bed maybe even a little too much.

Still you just look at him and he rests his chin on your stomach and puts his hands on the sides of your naked breasts.

Along the way, he paints little circles on them with his thumbs, paying no attention to your nipples, which immediately perk up as he looks at you questioningly with his bright eyes, "Do I have something on my face?"

And smiling at him, "No, sorry."

Again he breathes a kiss on your skin, "You don't have to apologize. I like it when you look at me like that."

Lazily you put your hands to his cheeks and gently tug on his beard, "Hmmm, how do I look at you?"

His smile we lascivious, "Like you were waiting for round two from last night."

Giggling, you tug harder on his beard, "Maybe."

Before he can push himself over you, though, you murmur softly, "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Immediately he sees the uncertainty in your eyes and pauses for a moment, "Did I do something wrong?"

Of course, he looks to blame himself first. Always at himself first.

So you quickly shake your head and nervously bite your lower lip, "No, no. That's not the point."

Slowly, he slides off of you to rest on his elbow beside you, "What's wrong, darling?"

You can't stand it when he doesn't touch you and instead place your own hand on his chest, "We're safe here, Rick."

He sighs deeply, "Darling, I have no idea what you're getting at."

You realize you're beating around the bush, but you don't have the heart to just say it, so you go wide again, "You're a great dad."

Rick grabs your chin and pushes your head up so you can't avoid his gaze: "Okay, now tell me what's going on or I'm going to lose it."

Shakily, you exhale, "Would you like to have a baby with me?"

Rick freezes.

His hand slips from your chin and he swallows hard, "You want a baby?"

Unsure, you blink up at him, "Yeah? If you don't want to, that's okay too. We don't have to do anything you don't-" His lips are on yours.

Surprised, you moan into the kiss and Rick slides his body over yours.

It's similar to the feeling of him laying on top of you so he can sleep only then he's not pressing his hips into a very specific spot and he's certainly not humming in your ear, "I sure as hell want a baby and I'm all for getting it on right now, darling."

Your heart hammers in your chest and you gasp softly, "Okay."

You move your hands to his shoulder blades and press your fingers into them as he turns to your neck and spreads wet kisses over your sensitive skin.

He's so warm and hard on you that it feels like your own skin is too small for you and you start to squirm under him, "Don't drag it out, Rick. Please."

He chuckles against your neck and slides between your legs so you can feel his cock where you need it most.

Roughly, you moan and push yourself further toward him, but he presses you back down on the bed with his free hand and murmurs hoarsely, "Easy. Wait a moment. I don't want to hurt you, darling."

Rick lifts his head and the love and admiration in his eyes makes you giddy and you nod slightly, "Okay."

Smiling, he presses a soft kiss to your lips and positions himself so that his tip is pressing against you and you shakily try to suppress pushing Rick against his handsome ass with your heels so that he is finally inside you.

His lips hover over yours as he penetrates you inch by inch, whispering over and over how much he loves you.

It's not the freakiest sex you've ever had, and it's not the hardest, but the way he doesn't take his eyes off you for a second and is so deep inside you that it feels like he's perpetuating himself inside you makes it the best sex you've ever had.

Every little touch of his hands on your body is pure intimacy and you have to pull yourself together not to start crying with happiness.

Then, when he kisses you hard on the mouth and you chase your climax together, you can't control yourself and shuffle into the kiss, "Rick, I love you. I love you so much."

He looks into your eyes briefly before leaning over you and kissing the tears on your cheek, "I know, darling. I know."

You grab his cheek and pull him back to your mouth, wishing this moment would never end.

@hail-yourselves  @bean-is-reading  @chanlvr2  @criminalwalkingsupernatural  @sunshinevirus  @toxic-ink  @kingtwhiddleston  @bloodycherry22  @vane28282  @bamslover  @revesephemeres  @emo-potato-virgil  @tropodyn  @mrsashleybarnes18-blog  @igotbasicdrag @moonshine147 @1-800-isabellapotter @starkstiless

(If anyone else would like to be tagged, just let me know 💗)